by Cat Cahill
He didn’t deserve someone as good as Elizabeth. Aimee had certainly reminded him of that. He was nothing but a ranch hand, spending days outside in the sun chasing down other men’s cattle. And come January, he’d be something even lower—a rustler of those same animals. Maybe one day, he’d at least appear deserving of a kind, gentle woman like Elizabeth, even if he wasn’t.
So why couldn’t he simply let her go? Why did he do fool-headed things like buying her Christmas ornaments? Or letting her scare up cake for him? He couldn’t stay away, even though he knew it would only lead to trouble and a broken heart.
But did it have to?
He’d have money soon. He’d at least carry the appearance of a man who deserved the world, even if he was still the same man at heart. Landon drew his hands across his face, trying to make his thoughts line up in some way that made sense. What if he asked her to wait? Would she? Could he live with himself if he did?
She glanced over her shoulder at him, and her smile grew more brilliant than any of the gold Christmas decorations that surrounded them.
As wrong as it was, he couldn’t let her go.
Chapter Thirteen
Elizabeth shivered against the wind that bit at her face. It had grown more fierce as of late, coming down from the mountains that towered over the hotel as if it were on a mission to race across the valley as quickly as possible. Her father would have said that such a wind bode ill weather to come.
But the sun shone, as weak as it was, and it wasn’t snowing even a bit at the moment. She’d come outside for some fresh air and a little exercise. One could only stay cooped up inside for so long without needing to see the sun.
And so she wrapped her coat more tightly around herself and thanked God for her hood and a good pair of wool gloves. Maybe if she continued working at the hotel, she could save some money for a nicer coat, one that would not only keep her warmer but would also look as if it belonged to a woman of a decent station, and not one who’d lived such a miserable life in a mining camp that she’d actually felt a tiny spark of relief when her husband had died.
She made her way through the ankle-deep snow, her face turned up to the sun each time the wind gave her a moment. It was silent outside the hotel, the sort of silence that only comes with a fresh blanket of snowfall. It was as if the usual sounds of the world had been muffled, and the only one allowed was the wind cutting through the branches. And a thwack-thwack-thwack from somewhere closer to the creek.
Elizabeth stilled. It sounded as if something was hitting a tree. She moved carefully through the snow to what Genia had told her was an old wagon trail that cut through the tree line to the creek. The creek itself was entirely frozen, but that sound continued somewhere off to Elizabeth’s right.
She followed the creek for a short ways until a figure came into view behind a stand of aspen. It was a man, swinging an axe at a pine tree, over and over. Elizabeth squinted through the sunlight. She recognized that coat, smudged with dirt and grass and smelling of campfire smoke.
It was Landon.
She hurried toward him as he swung the final stroke that felled the tree. It came down, crashing through its neighbors and sending snow blowing through the wind. Elizabeth held an arm up in front of her face to keep the icy flakes from hitting her skin. When she looked again, Landon had dropped the axe to the ground and was pulling the tree by its trunk across the snow. He stopped when he saw her.
“Is that . . .? Are you . . .?” She couldn’t seem to form a sentence.
“For Christmas,” he said abruptly. “For the hotel.”
For me, she thought, and she suddenly felt too warm in her old, threadbare coat. “Thank you. Do you need assistance? I could fetch one of the kitchen boys to help you haul this back up to the hotel.”
“No need.” He adjusted his grip on the tree and picked up the axe with his free hand.
“Well, I could at least carry that for you.” She took the few steps that stood between them and pulled the axe from his hand. It was heavier than she’d thought it would be, but she smiled at him and gripped the thing with both hands.
“I thought this was a fair size for the lobby.” He nodded at the tree. “Large, but not too much so.”
Elizabeth inspected the pine. “It’s perfect. It’ll look lovely in that space near the front windows.” She shifted the axe to one hand to run the other over the tree’s needles. “No one’s cut a tree for me before. And I’ve always wanted one.”
When she glanced up, Landon was watching her, curiosity etched across his face.
She sighed. As much as she didn’t wish to speak of Colin, she’d brought this explanation upon herself by mentioning it. “My husband didn’t much care for Christmas. He thought it a waste of time and effort to cut down a tree.” She figured it would be better to keep the diatribe that usually accompanied such a request to herself. No one had ever made her feel so insignificant as her own husband had.
“It isn’t a waste of time if it makes you happy,” Landon said, irritation slicing through his voice. “Your former husband sounds like a man who didn’t much care for anyone’s happiness but his own.” He paused, and added, “I overstepped.”
Elizabeth didn’t know what to say to that—any of it. He was right about Colin. He was right about overstepping. And she wasn’t at all sure how she felt about any of it, especially the noticeable lack of an apology. Somehow she doubted Landon ever gave an apology for anything he wasn’t truly sorry for. So she swallowed and took the axe into both hands again before saying, “Shall we bring this tree up to the hotel?”
He nodded and began to haul the tree down the creek toward the wagon path. Elizabeth trailed behind him, trying to discern what all of this meant. The man was awfully forthright—when he actually spoke, that was. She had so many questions for him, if she could get him to answer in more than just a couple of words. Who was this woman who’d hurt him so badly before? Why was he still here when a job awaited him in Cañon City? What was this job? And what of his family? She knew none of the answers, although if she were to be honest with herself, she knew exactly why he was still here.
But the thought frightened her as much as it sent joy spreading from her fingertips to her toes. Even though he had already proven how different he was from Colin, how could she know for certain that he wouldn’t change later? Colin had been nothing but gentle and loving with her until they were married and moved to California. Then he’d turned into a man who was angry at the world. And that anger drove him to drink and gamble every cent they had, made him hurl insults at her so frequently she strove to avoid him, and ultimately found him dead in a mining accident he’d caused.
How could she ever trust another cowboy again, when she’d experienced what she had?
But how could she deny the feelings that were growing inside her each time Landon so much as glanced at her? Perhaps if she got to know him better, it would make everything more clear. If she could ask him the questions that pinched at her mind, then maybe she’d know for certain.
Chapter Fourteen
It was late by the time the tree had dried enough to be set up in the lobby. Landon lost count of how many times the needles had pricked his fingers and how often the sap had dripped down the backs of his hands, but it was done. He stepped back and admired his work. To be honest, he was more interested in how Elizabeth would react when she saw it tomorrow. He didn’t want to miss that, and if he hoped to be awake early enough to see it, he needed to find his way to bed soon.
Only a couple of other guests remained in the lobby at this time of the evening. Landon crossed to the stairs and made his way up to the second floor. The area that overlooked the lobby was empty save for one woman, standing on a ladder.
Elizabeth.
Landon’s heart almost stopped when that ladder teetered just slightly to the left. But Elizabeth righted it and went right back to hanging something green over the doorway to one of the rooms. Why in the name of all that was good was she doing this hers
elf? She’d had the sense to ask him to hang those pine boughs downstairs, but now she climbed a ladder on her own? He strode toward her, impatient to get her off that ladder before she fell and hurt herself.
He was just a couple of steps away when the ladder tilted again. But this time, it kept going sideways, down toward the floor—and Elizabeth with it. She gave a startled cry, and that jolted Landon into action. He covered those last couple of steps as if they were but a tiny hop, just in time to catch her as she went down. With one arm wrapped under her waist and the other behind her knees, he held tight to her as she grabbed his neck.
The fear melted from her eyes as she looked up at him. It lasted but a second, but it felt like an eternity. She was safe because of him. And if he could make it that way forever, he would.
“Landon,” she whispered.
He realized he was still holding on to her as if she were falling, and he quickly set her down on her feet. She stumbled a little, and he caught her arm. “Are you all right?”
“I think so.” She pressed her free hand to her heart. “How did you get here just in time?”
“I don’t know,” he said as he took in the flush on her face and the delicate fingers pressed to her apron. “I suppose I knew angels can’t really fly.”
She tilted her head. “What do you mean?”
Warmth flooded his face. What a ridiculous thing to say. “Nothing. What were you doing up there?”
“Hanging mistletoe. It’s not actual mistletoe, but it is a sprig of greenery with red berries. I found some growing along the creek.” She glanced down at his hand that still clutched her arm.
He should let her go. It was late, and while most of the hotel had gone to bed, it was entirely possible that someone could walk by them. But instead of dropping her arm entirely, he found his fingers moving down her arm to her hand. It was small and soft in his, which was calloused from years of work outside.
She drew in a sharp breath, but she didn’t move away from him. And so he let his hand remain curled around hers.
“I should apologize for what I said to you the other day,” she said, her eyes on their hands. “In the shed, when I said you were the same as any man who worked on a ranch.”
He raised his eyebrows but said nothing.
“My husband was a ranch hand, and he was . . . not particularly kind. And so I’ve always had it in my head that his behavior came from those years he spent in the company of other men, driving cattle and the like. But I fear I was wrong. I owe you an apology.”
Her words cut into him, somewhere deep inside, a place where he hid his worst faults and fears, where he’d tucked away the cruel words Aimee had said to him. If this beautiful woman with the tender heart believed he was more than a poor cowboy, then perhaps he was. He gripped her hand tighter, and she looked up at him, her eyes wide with trust.
And yet, he was planning to keep the truth from her.
“You don’t owe me anything,” he said.
She raised her other hand and touched his cheek, a slight graze of the fingertips that sent his head spinning. “What is it that makes you so disbelieving of any kind words spoken to you?” she asked.
Landon couldn’t piece together two words with her hand on his face. He gripped her other wrist gently, and she stopped. “Perhaps because they aren’t true.”
“But they are,” she insisted. “You have a kind heart, even if you believe you don’t. Even if someone else told you otherwise.”
Would a man with a kind heart be planning to make money stealing other men’s cattle? “You don’t know everything about me,” he said.
“Then tell me.”
Her face was so close to his. Just a few inches. He could see her eyes tracing his face, feel the pulse in her wrist, see her breath quickening as he searched her face . . . for what? For proof she was speaking lies? Or for permission to close that distance between them and finally press his lips against hers?
“Tell me,” she said again.
He wasn’t good at words, and so he said nothing. Instead he moved closer to her, inch by inch until she closed her eyes. He could kiss her right now, and he wanted to, badly.
You aren’t good enough. The thought curled through his mind, reaching through him until he stopped. Up close, she was even more beautiful, and if he kissed her, it could not only ruin her, but turn him into the worst sort of man—one who stole a heart under a pretense.
With every part of him feeling as if it were weighed down with lead, he let her go and stepped away.
Elizabeth’s eyes fluttered open. She reached for the wall and gripped the doorframe. “You didn’t tell me.”
Landon was still attempting to discern the meaning behind her words when a voice sounded from behind him.
“Oh, my. Elizabeth, are you all right?” A round woman—a Mrs. Ruby, he believed—came bustling past him toward Elizabeth and the downed ladder.
Elizabeth stirred, taking her eyes from him to the woman, and she instantly stood straighter. “I’m not hurt. I was attempting to hang some berries over the parlor door, and the ladder slid out from underneath me.”
Mrs. Ruby took her arm and held it out as if she were inspecting her charge. Then she glanced back to Landon.
“Mr. Cooper was passing by and was kind enough to help me up,” Elizabeth said, her cheeks coloring.
Mrs. Ruby narrowed her eyes at Landon. He tried his best to look as if he hadn’t just been contemplating kissing Elizabeth. It must have worked, because the woman said nothing. Instead she returned to fussing over her employee.
“It’s past time for you to be in your room,” she said.
“Oh! I must’ve lost track of the hour. I’m so sorry.” Elizabeth’s voice held an edge of desperation.
Landon wanted to step in for her. To tell Mrs. Ruby that Elizabeth had done nothing wrong. And he wanted to ensure Elizabeth he’d hang those troublesome berries for her tomorrow, but the words stopped up in his throat. Instead, he nodded at both women—neither of whom appeared to see him—and inched away until he was around the corner and headed down the south wing toward his room.
He fumbled with the key in his door. Elizabeth had his mind all addled. She kept asking him to confide in her. What if he did? What if he told her everything, from his dreams of owning his own ranch to the methods he was being forced to take if he wanted to do so? She’d be appalled, that much was for sure.
But maybe she’d understand, even if she didn’t approve. Or perhaps she wouldn’t, and he’d lose her forever.
He sighed as the door swung open. If he told her, there would be no taking it back. And if he didn’t, could he live with the knowledge that he hadn’t been entirely truthful with her?
Landon didn’t know the answer. All he knew was that he wished he’d kissed her anyway.
Chapter Fifteen
Elizabeth hardly slept. After waking up for about the tenth time, she finally rose and left so she wouldn’t awaken Sarah. Uncertain as to the actual time, she had the feeling it was very early morning. She made her way downstairs, hopeful she could find something to occupy her time before the breakfast shift she was scheduled to serve.
The lobby was empty. Even the desk clerk had disappeared off to somewhere. But something was different . . .
Elizabeth paused, and then gasped. The tree Landon had cut down yesterday stood tall and proud in the usual empty space between the hotel doors and the gathering of chairs around the fireplace nearest the dining room. Its lofty branches reached out, and it filled the room with such a lovely scent. She almost felt like crying, she was so happy to see it. Even without decoration, it made the room so much warmer and more homelike. Her heart ached as memories of childhood Christmases with both her parents and Monroe flitted through her mind. There weren’t many—not so many she could remember well, at least—but each one was precious to her.
She clasped her hands together in front of her, already dreaming of how she’d decorate the tree. Perhaps the other girls would help her
. Maybe Landon would look on, that sullen look finally erased for good as the Christmas spirit took over.
Landon.
She shivered when she thought of him and how close they were last night. How very, very close she had come to letting him kiss her. And she wouldn’t have stopped him, either, even though he never explained himself. It was almost embarrassing to remember how wanton she’d acted, now, in the quiet of early morning. But she knew, deep down in her heart, that if she had it to do over again, she wouldn’t change a thing.
But what would she do if he never opened up to her?
Elizabeth sighed and left the beautiful tree she knew he’d put up for her. How could a man be so thoughtful and so closed off at the same time? And he’d disappeared yet again without so much as a word to either herself or Mrs. Ruby. She hurried back to the lunch counter and took inventory of all the items she knew they’d need for a successful breakfast service. Someone must’ve stocked the counter last night, as everything was in place.
At a loss for what else to do, Elizabeth wandered into the kitchen. A few of the kitchen boys were up and beginning breakfast preparations, but nothing was ready for the hotel staff to eat yet. She took the spare cloak from the peg near the door and stepped outside.
The wind whipped her hair from the loose chignon she’d pulled it into. She pulled the hat from her head before it loosened from its pins and flew off into the trees. It was small enough she could put it into one of the pockets that had been sewn into the cloak. Perhaps there was something to what her father had always said about the wind coming down from the mountains.
Elizabeth blinked into the flurries that stung her face. Tucking her chin to her chest, she walked along the rear of the hotel and through the snow that now came up mid-calf.
“I fear there’s a storm coming,” a voice said from somewhere in front of her.
Elizabeth looked up. She had made it to the garden—such as it was in this weather. Penny stood there, her curls dancing around the edge of her hood and her face pink with cold.