Always Dakota Page 2

  “You’re dead on your feet,” Maddy told her.

  Margaret nestled her head in her pillow, surprised by how good it felt against her face. How cool and comforting. “I…I thought I was prepared,” she said, her eyes closed. “I thought I could handle this.”

  “No one’s ever ready to lose a father,” Maddy said as she covered Margaret with the afghan from the foot of the bed. The weight of it settled warmly over her shoulders.

  “Sleep now. By the time you wake, everyone will be gone.”

  “Nothing’s ever going to be the same again,” Margaret whispered.

  “You’re right, it won’t.”

  Maddy’s voice sounded soothing, even if her words didn’t. But then, Margaret could count on her friend to tell the truth. Already she could feel sleep approach, could feel the tension leave her body. “Matt didn’t attend the funeral, did he?”

  “No,” Maddy said.

  “I thought he would.” She was keenly disappointed that he hadn’t bothered to show up.

  “I know.”

  Maddy was disappointed in him, too. Margaret could tell from the inflection in her voice. Few people understood why she loved Matt. If pressured to explain, Margaret wasn’t sure she could justify her feelings. Matt Eilers was as handsome as sin, shallow and conceited. But she loved him and had from the moment she’d met him.

  With Maddy’s tutoring, Margaret had done everything possible to get Matt to recognize that she was a woman with a woman’s heart. A few months back, she’d had her hair done and put on panty hose for the first time in her life. The panty hose had nearly wrestled her to the ground and the new hairdo had made her look like one of the Marx Brothers—in her opinion, anyway. The whole beautifying operation had been a unique form of torture, but she’d willingly do it all again for Matt.

  “I’m sure he’ll stop by later and pay his respects,” Margaret whispered, confident that he would.

  “He should have been here today.” Maddy wasn’t nearly as forgiving. “Don’t worry about Matt.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Call me in the morning,” Maddy said.

  “I will,” she promised, exhausted and grateful for Maddy’s friendship. Her last thought before she drifted off to sleep was of the father she loved and how bleak her life would feel without him.

  Jeb McKenna knew his wife well, and her silence worried him as he drove the short distance between the Clemens house and his ranch. Unlike the Clemenses and most other ranchers in the area, Jeb raised bison; Maddy owned the grocery store in town. Right now, though, she was staying home with their infant daughter.

  “You’re worried about Margaret, aren’t you?” he asked as he turned down the mile-long dirt driveway leading to their home. Maddy had barely said a word after seeing Margaret to her room.

  “She was ready to collapse,” Maddy told him. “God only knows the last time she slept. Sadie said she’d been up for two nights straight.”

  “Poor thing.” One didn’t generally think of Margaret in those terms. She came across as tough, strong, capable. They’d been neighbors for about five years—ever since Jeb had bought the property—and he’d seen Margaret on a number of different occasions. It was some time before he’d realized Margaret was a she instead of a he. It’d startled him, but he wasn’t the only person she’d inadvertently fooled. Maddy confessed that when they’d first met, she’d taken Margaret for a ranch hand.

  “Bernard’s death has shaken her.”

  Jeb understood. Joshua McKenna was in his late sixties now, and Jeb knew that sooner or later he, too, would lose his father. The inevitability of it made him feel a wave of sadness…and regret. He parked the car and turned off the engine.

  “I’ll talk to Margaret in the morning,” Maddy said absently.

  The October wind beat against him as Jeb climbed out of the vehicle and reached in the back to unfasten Julianne’s car seat. At three months she was showing more personality than he would’ve thought possible. She gurgled and smiled, waving her arms as though orchestrating life from her infant seat. She’d proved to be a good-natured baby, happy and even-tempered.

  Carrying the baby seat, he covered Julianne’s face with the blanket and hurried toward the house, doing his best to protect his wife and daughter from the brunt of the wind.

  Maddy switched on the kitchen lights and Jeb set the baby carrier on the recliner, unfastening Julianne and cradling her in his arms.

  “I liked Pastor Dawson,” Maddy said casually.

  The Methodist minister had recently taken up residence in town. Although Larry Dawson had grown up in Buffalo Valley, Jeb didn’t remember him. That wasn’t surprising, seeing that the pastor was near retirement age. Dawson was slight in stature, his hair—what was left of it—completely white. He hadn’t been in contact with Bernard Clemens for many years, but he’d given a respectable eulogy.

  “The pastor invited us to church services on Sunday,” she murmured.

  Although it was an offhand remark, Jeb knew Maddy was interested in becoming involved with a church community. He hesitated; the drive into Buffalo Valley took at least fifty minutes, and that was on a good day. Going to church would consume nearly all of Sunday morning. He opened his mouth, about to offer his wife a list of excuses as to why it would be inconvenient to attend. Before he could utter a word, he changed his mind. The fact that she’d mentioned the invitation at all meant this was important to her and shouldn’t be taken lightly.

  When he married Maddy, Jeb knew there’d be a number of concessions on his part, but he loved her enough to make them. She’d certainly made concessions of her own—one of which was living so far out of town, away from her friends and the grocery she’d purchased a little more than a year ago. Church for Maddy would be a social outlet, and it would uplift her emotionally and spiritually. Women needed that.

  Jeb and Maddy had met soon after she’d bought the one and only grocery store in Buffalo Valley. Her lifelong friend, Lindsay Snyder, had begun teaching at the high school and married Gage Sinclair the following summer. Maddy had been Lindsay’s maid of honor; the very day of the wedding she’d decided to settle in Buffalo Valley herself.

  Jeb would be forever grateful that she had. His life changed the day he rescued Maddy during a blizzard. She’d been trapped in her car while delivering groceries and would have frozen to death if he hadn’t found her when he did. He’d brought her home with him, never suspecting that their time together would have consequences affecting both their lives. Consequences that included an unexpected pregnancy…He’d fallen in love with her in those three snowbound days. After losing his leg in a farming accident several years earlier, Jeb had thought it would never be possible for him to live a normal life again—or to feel normal emotions, normal desires. Maddy had shown him otherwise. They’d been married four months now and he was so much in love with her he had to pinch himself every once in a while to convince himself this was real.

  “What do you think about us attending church services?” she pressed, studying him closely.

  “I think that’s a fine idea,” he said. It wouldn’t hurt and might even do him some good.

  Her smile told him how much she appreciated his response.

  A few minutes later, Maddy efficiently changed Julianne’s diaper, then settled into the rocking chair. She unbuttoned her blouse and bared her breast for their baby. Fascinated, Jeb watched as his infant daughter instinctively turned toward her mother and greedily latched on.

  Maddy rocked gently and hummed a lullaby. It wasn’t long before his daughter had taken her fill and Maddy carried her into the nursery to prepare her for the night.

  Jeb had the television on, watching a news broadcast, when Maddy joined him. They’d decided to skip dinner, since they’d eaten the equivalent of a meal at Bernard’s wake that afternoon. Now, sitting at her husband’s side, Maddy picked up her knitting, a recently learned skill. Leta Betts, a devout knitter and Lindsay’s mother-in-law, had taught both Maddy and Li
ndsay how to knit while they were pregnant. “I wonder what Margaret’s going to do now.”

  Jeb glanced away from the television long enough to recognize that Maddy needed to talk about this. He reached for the remote control and muted the sound. “It wasn’t as though Bernard’s death came as a shock.”

  “I know. It’s just that…”

  “What?” he urged.

  “I’m worried about what’ll happen to Margaret without her father there to protect her.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “She’s alone for the first time in her life—and vulnerable.”

  Jeb frowned. He hadn’t given the matter much thought, but Maddy was right. Margaret had lived a sheltered life, protected by her father and his name.

  “She’s easy prey for some man. Anyone with a good line can just step in and take advantage of her. Look at all the attention she got at Bob and Merrily’s wedding.”

  Jeb had no recollection of anything about that night except Maddy. She’d been seven months pregnant with his child. It was the night he’d asked her to marry him and she’d agreed.

  “Almost every single man in Buffalo Valley invited Margaret to dance.”

  It went without saying that the transformation in Margaret’s appearance and manner was due to Maddy’s efforts.

  Maddy’s knitting needles clicked more rapidly, signaling her anxiety. “Margaret is about to become a very wealthy woman.”

  “Credit her with some sense, Maddy,” Jeb said. “She’s intelligent and capable. Bernard made sure of that.”

  “I agree with you, except for one thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “She’d marry Matt Eilers in a heartbeat. Don’t ask me why, but she’s in love with the man.” The knitting needles were a blur by now. “He’d take advantage of her, too.”

  “You don’t know that,” Jeb said, although he suspected she was right. He wasn’t any fonder of Matt Eilers than Maddy was. They’d never had any business dealings, he and Matt, so Jeb had no concrete reason to distrust the rancher. But he did.

  “I hate myself for thinking ill of him,” she muttered.

  Jeb shrugged. He viewed Eilers as a weak man, although he wasn’t sure exactly what had shaped that opinion.

  Maddy’s sigh was expressive. “Last I heard, he was dating Sheryl Decker in Devils Lake.”

  Jeb had never heard of her. “Who?”

  “Sheryl Decker. She waits tables at a truck stop outside town.”

  “Maybe he’ll marry her, then,” Jeb suggested, hoping that would be the end of the discussion.

  Maddy sighed and relaxed the knitting needles in her lap. “We can always hope.”

  “Matt,” Sheryl Decker called from the bedroom. “Bring me my cigarettes, would you?”

  Matt opened the refrigerator and grabbed a cold can of beer. Sheryl knew he didn’t like her smoking, but his wishes didn’t dissuade her.

  He returned to the bedroom and tossed the pack onto the bed, the abruptness of his action telling her he didn’t approve.

  “You know how much I enjoy my smokes,” she said, pulling open her nightstand drawer and reaching for a lighter. She placed the cigarette between her lips, lit up and blew a stream of smoke toward the ceiling.

  Matt joined her on the bed and took a deep swallow of beer. He was upset with himself and with Sheryl. She knew he’d wanted to attend Bernard Clemens’s funeral. He might not have liked the wealthy rancher, but Clemens was his neighbor and he felt honor-bound to pay his last respects. Sheryl, however, had other ideas, and like a fool he’d fallen under her spell—and not for the first time, either. Without much effort, she’d managed to lure him into bed; despite his best intentions, he’d let it happen.

  “Are you still mad at me?” she asked, running her long fingernail down the length of his arm.

  “No,” he muttered. He couldn’t blame anyone but himself.

  “You know I have to work tonight, and this afternoon was the only time we could be together.”

  He did know. His mistake was in stopping by Sheryl’s place at all. He’d come into Devils Lake for feed and had expected to get back before the funeral.

  “You can still go to the reception, can’t you?”

  “No.”

  She wrapped her arm around his bare chest. “I’m really sorry,” she purred like the sex kitten she was. Matt had never wanted this relationship to take the path it had. He’d started coming by once or twice a month for dinner and companionship. Occasionally he spent the night. They had an understanding, or so he’d assumed, one that provided mutual satisfaction. Lately, however, Sheryl had begun to bring up the uncomfortable subject of marriage. Matt didn’t try to argue simply because it was easier to let her talk than to argue.

  “I was thinking we should get married after the first of the year,” she said, taking another deep drag of her cigarette.

  Matt sighed. He didn’t understand what it was with women and marriage. “Yeah, maybe. Whatever.”

  “Don’t sound so enthusiastic,” she said with heavy sarcasm.

  “I can’t figure out why women are always so eager to get married.”

  Sheryl stared at him incredulously. “Do you think I want to wait tables the rest of my life?”

  To be perfectly honest, he’d never thought about it one way or the other.

  “You planning to marry anyone else?” she demanded, then without asking helped herself to a long swallow of his beer.

  “Margaret Clemens,” he said, knowing that was sure to get a reaction.

  “Margaret Clemens,” Sheryl repeated with a harsh laugh. “That’s a joke, right?”

  “Not according to her father.”

  Sheryl twisted around so she could look him in the eye. “You talked to Bernard Clemens about marrying Margaret?”

  “No,” he said, disliking the cold tone of her voice. “He mentioned it to me.”

  “When did he do that?” She brushed the bleached blond curls away from her forehead.

  “A few weeks back. He asked to talk to me and I went over to see him.”

  “And what exactly did he say?”

  “He claimed Margaret’s in love with me.”

  “Is she?”

  Matt lifted both shoulders in a shrug. He hadn’t told anyone about the conversation. He’d never considered Margaret in romantic terms, and it flustered him to think she held any such feelings for him. Not that he was interested. Margaret was, well…Margaret. He didn’t even view her as a woman, like Sheryl, for instance, who was feminine from the top of her head to the tips of her crimson-painted toes. Although if memory served him right, Margaret had been dressed in something pretty the night of Buffalo Bob and Merrily’s wedding.

  “Her dad warned you off, did he?” Sheryl asked, apparently finding the question humorous.

  Matt wasn’t sure how to answer. “As a matter of fact, no. He seemed to think I’d marry her.”

  “For her money?”

  Matt nodded. “According to him, Margaret’s determined to have me.”

  “Really?” Sheryl made a low snickering sound.

  “That’s what he said.” It wasn’t something to brag about. Actually it was more of an embarrassment than anything. Ever since their conversation, Matt had gone out of his way to avoid Margaret Clemens.

  “Are you going to marry her?”

  “No!” His denial was swift and angry. How could Sheryl even suspect him of something like that?

  She didn’t say anything for several moments, then seemed to come to some conclusion that excited her. Tossing aside the blankets, she scrambled to her knees and a slow smile crept over her wide mouth. “Why not marry her?”

  “Well, for one thing, I don’t love her. For another…” He couldn’t think of a second reason fast enough. “Hey, I thought you wanted me to marry you.”

  “You will, make no mistake about it. But you could marry Margaret first.”

  He couldn’t believe his ears. “Why would I want to do tha
t?”

  “Why?” she asked as if that was the most hilarious question anyone had every posed. “Because she’s rich.”

  “So?”

  “You’ve been hoping to buy the Stockert ranch for years.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “You can have it.”

  Matt frowned, beginning to sense what Sheryl was suggesting. “I hope you’re not saying what I think you are.”

  “Sure I am. Marry her. She’s already in love with you—isn’t that what her daddy said? Give her what she wants, and then after a few months file for divorce.”

  Matt had never heard anything more heartless. “That’s cruel.”

  “Matt, she has more money than she knows what to do with. Think of the months you’re married to Margaret as a way to help her through her grieving. She needs someone and she wants you. All you’d be doing is giving her what she needs and what she wants. You’d just be…providing a service.”

  Matt’s frown darkened.

  “Why else do you think her daddy called you in for that little talk?” Sheryl continued persuasively. “He knew that Margaret was going to need you. In his own way, he was asking you to watch over his little girl. And once Margaret understands that, she’ll be grateful. Grateful enough to buy you the Stockert place.”

  Matt didn’t like the sound of this. “Bernard warned me not to hurt her.”

  “You wouldn’t be hurting her, you’d be helping her through a difficult period in her life. Think about it, Matt. Bernard practically ordered you to step in and take care of his little girl. Besides, she’s in love with you, so she’ll do whatever you ask. It’s only fair that you be compensated for what you’re giving her. You’ll just have to convince her that a year of marriage is worth the price of the Stockert place. And then…you’d have your ranch.”

  He wanted Sheryl to shut up; her plan was starting to seem plausible.

  “I could quit my job and then the two of us could get married….”

  Matt shook his head. “Forget it,” he said. “Besides, once I married Margaret, what makes you think I’d want a divorce?”

  Sheryl burst out laughing. “Two things,” she said. “First of all, we’re talking about Margaret Clemens here. She’s got about as much sex appeal as a bag of potatoes.”