She gave Kin a look. “I don’t like to be deceptive. I’m not helping you shop for the parson.”
“You are now.” Kin grinned at her, then stuffed his last bite of toast into his mouth.
Jacinda laughed. “Very well, I can do that. But I hope you weren’t being deceptive about the weather?”
He shook his head, wiping his fingers on his napkin. “No, ma’am. The roads will be a bear to traverse, but the weather should hold until we make it back home.”
“That’s such a relief. All right.” She stood. “Give me five minutes to clear the table, and then we can be on our way.”
Kin stood with her. “I’ll get your horse from the livery.”
“Perfect. I’ll be ready when you get back.”
Fifteen minutes later, they were on their way out of town, and Kin was right. The sun had come out and all around them the snow sparkled with dazzling diamond dust. The wind that had driven the storm, slid cold fingers around her neck, and she tucked her coat a little tighter. Though the snow was mounded higher along the embankments, it was still knee-high to the horses in most places and the going was hard.
They came to a spot where the wind had blown most of the snow clear, and paused to let their horses catch their breath.
Jacinda tipped back her head and inhaled long and slow of the snow-scrubbed morning air. The sky domed above them, as blue as denim, but when she turned to look back at the receding storm, the clouds were stacked up like black sheep at a trough. “Oh my, Kin, look at that!” Jacinda pointed. “Isn’t it beautiful? Imagine the awesomeness of a God who could turn something like that”—she waved at the bank of clouds—“into this.” She swept a gesture to the blue sky and sunshine before them.
Kin cleared his throat. “Yes, ma’am.”
Jacinda angled him a look. She knew he was still uncertain whether he believed in Jesus. Floundering through the process of letting go of his own will and surrendering to God’s. She tried to broach the subject with him gently, as often as she could, but she decided that today she would let the matter drop.
He was a good boy. She only hoped he didn’t keep putting off the surrender until he could no longer hear the still small voice of the Lord calling to him.
Even though it took them longer than normal to reach the train station, the tracks lay empty when they arrived. They’d beat the train.
With a frown, Jacinda glanced at her pendant watch. “The train should have been here five minutes ago.”
“You know how these things go,” Kin said. He stretched a hand for her to precede him up the platform steps. “They’re not late for at least another thirty minutes.” He smiled and motioned to a bench. “Shall we?”
“Thank you.” His reassurance eased some of Jacinda’s tension, but by the time another forty-five minutes had gone by, and still no train in sight, her anxiety had climbed even higher than before. Several others had been waiting with them, and now, down the platform, a group raised their voices in agitation.
Jacinda studied them. One man had just come from inside the station and he was gesticulating a tale. The others seemed to be upset, but they were too far off for her to make out their exact words.
Kin slapped his hands to his knees and stood. “I’ll check with the station master to see what’s going on.”
Jacinda couldn’t sit another moment or she just might scream. She rose. “I’ll come with you. I could use the walk.”
She followed him through the large double wooden doors into the station. The domed ceiling caused every conversation to echo, and she was glad they’d been sitting outside enjoying the sunlight instead of in this loud chamber, despite the warmth that emanated from the large wood stove along the back wall. They stepped to the end of a long line before the only manned window, and as Jacinda looked around she noted with growing unease the number of other passengers who paced the area, many of them repeatedly checking the time.
Something had happened to the train. She pressed a hand over the crimp in her middle. She’d already wired the rancher a princely sum for this horse. She prayed the train hadn’t derailed. What if the animal had been killed?! Not to mention all the people who would have been on board!
Ahead of them a man pounded the counter with the side of his fist. “An avalanche! How we s’posed ta travel east fer Christmas if’n the trains can’t pass through?”
The station attendant responded in a voice too low for Jacinda to hear.
Wide-eyed she met Kin’s gaze. “This can’t be!”
His lips pressed into a grim line. “Let’s just wait until we have the full story before we panic.”
Too late for that.
Chapter 3
Maude Carver pressed her hands together and followed her brothers to the bench the sheriff motioned them toward. Sinking down, she tried not to tremble as the sheriff sat in a chair behind the imposing desk.
The outer door banged open and another man with a star on his chest that read “Marshal” tromped in. Maude didn’t remember seeing him before, but he was large, imposing, and his eyes were striking—the color of the forget-me-nots on the china Ma used to have.
She remembered how Ma would carefully unwrap each piece from the old flour sacks she kept them in. She only brought the good dishes out on Christmas, Easter, or if the squinty-eyed parson was calling. Otherwise the plates were kept in the bottom of the cabinet.
Beside her, Kane cleared his throat quietly, and Maude came back to the present with a start. She realized she’d been staring at the marshal and forced her gaze to her clenched hands.
The man strode to the stove. “Any of you want some coffee? Mighty cold out there today.”
Kane nodded with his typical deferential politeness. “Yes, sir. Thank you.”
Coffee sounded heavenly. When was the last time she’d had a cup? The Kastains always brought Kane a cup, but brought her and Seth tea, and she’d manners enough to know better than to ask for something different. “Yes, thank you.”
The marshal pinned his silvery-blue gaze on Seth, one eyebrow quirked.
Seth nodded too. “Thank you.”
With a dip of his chin, the marshal lifted the coffee pot. “I’ll get water from McGinty’s and be right back.”
As he headed out the door, the sheriff rose, opened a drawer in his desk and withdrew several tin cups. They clanked together as he gathered them by the handles and then strode over to place them on the little table beside the stove. “I don’t have cream, but there’s a little sugar here, if you like.”
Maude licked her lips. Sugar. She hadn’t had a taste of sugar for nearly two years.
The sheriff plunked himself back into his chair and clasped his hands behind his head as he propped his boots on one corner of his desk. “While Marshal Holloway finishes up with the coffee, why don’t we get down to business.”
Dread dropped into the pit of Maude’s stomach making her forget all about coffee and sugar. She knew this scrape they were in was all because of her.
The sheriff pinned Kane with a look. “How long have you been in this area?”
Kane met the sheriff’s gaze in that straightforward way of his. “Longer than we intended to be. We were headed through to Seattle when I came down sick.”
Worked himself into a sickness was more what he ought to have said.
The marshal returned. The pot’s spout already wisped steam. The water he’d fetched must have been heated. He scooped a generous portion of grounds into the pot and set it over the burner of the wood stove.
“Where are you from?” Despite the sheriff’s casual tone, his eyes seemed able to cut right to the bone.
Kane shifted.
Maude clenched her hands in her lap. She held her silence, content to let Kane do their talking, and also knowing that she’d have plenty of her own questions to answer soon enough.
“We grew up out Montana way. Little ranch near Fort Benton.”
The first waft of percolating coffee filled Maude’s senses. Her mo
uth watered.
“And what brings you our way?” There was a hard edge to the sheriff’s words.
Kane leaned forward and planted his elbows against his knees.
Only because she knew him so well could she see the tension in his posture.
“Short version is that our Ma and Pa were both killed and I needed to get my siblings out of town for their protection.” Kane’s jaw bulged.
The sheriff dropped his feet to the floor and sat up. “I’ve got time for the longer version.” His flinty expression made it clear they wouldn’t be going anywhere until he’d heard it.
Kane sighed. “My pa ran cattle up in the hills near Fort Benton. Had about three thousand acres of prime land. Problem was, it was just a little too prime.” He sat up and pushed his palms against his thighs as though he were drying them. “Few years back, the area had a drought. People in the area were barely scraping by. But there were a couple of deep springs on our property that kept us going when everyone else was dry. Big outfit came in and started buying up all the smaller places around us. Most everyone was happy to sell at rock bottom prices just to be shut of the place. But Pa didn’t want to sell at all.”
The marshal quietly set about to pouring several mugs of coffee.
Maude wished she could block out the rest of Kane’s story, or maybe make him stop telling it, but there was no escape from the bleak past.
Kane accepted a cup from the marshal and took a sip before continuing. “Problem was, Vince Stoke didn’t want to take no for an answer.”
“What happened?”
Kane glanced at Maude. She knew he was concerned about her hearing the tale again on account of how she’d panicked the last time he’d told it to someone.
She sipped her coffee, not even caring that the marshal hadn’t added any sugar. She gave Kane a nod. Then took a breath, closed her eyes, and prepared herself to revisit the horror.
As Kane told the story it was as though she had traveled back in time.
“There was an evening sing-along at the schoolhouse,” Kane said. “But our ma was suffering from a headache, so our pa stayed home with her and the three of us went.”
Maude remembered her excitement as she’d dashed from the house. Heard the squeak of the screened porch door and Ma’s voice calling for them to have a good time. Had she replied? She’d never been able to recall.
“The schoolhouse was a thirty-minute ride from home.”
She could smell the decaying leaves of that autumn day. Hear the horse’s hooves crunching through them and the wagon wheels grinding over the gravel of the road. She remembered how Lucy Paxton had run to meet her and tugged her into the coat room, chattering gossip about Brody Frederick.
In the auditorium, the piano was especially out of tune that night. Maude wondered if the Frederick brothers had somehow sabotaged it.
“After the singalong was done, we arrived home to find our house on fire.”
Both the marshal and the sheriff seemed taken aback by that. As they should be.
With the harness jangling, she’d studied the starlit sky as the first waft of smoke drifted to her on the night air. Had Pa set the pig they’d slaughtered earlier that day to smoking? She tested the smoke again. No. Something didn’t seem quite right. Then she’d seen the black belch of soot and cinders blocking out a column of starlight.
Kane yelled at the horse, his voice sharp, panic-filled. Maude clung to the seat, and a few moments later the wagon skidded into the yard. Bright flames clawed at the night sky, feral, blistering, and unapproachable.
From his seat in the wagon bed, Seth’s cries pierced high above the devouring crackle.
Kane’s breaths puffed in a rhythmic percussion as he raced from the inadequate water trough to the house with the too-small bucket.
Despair sapped the strength from Maude’s legs. The damp ground pressed cold against her knees, and the smoke-scented wind cooled the tracks of her tears. The salty taste of despair still stung the tip of her tongue.
Kane’s hand settled at the back of her neck. “Breathe, Maude. Just breathe.”
She blinked and realized that the taste of tears was such a reality because she was crying. “Sorry.” She dashed at her cheeks, fixing her gaze on the pot-bellied stove and doing her best to push the anguish away.
The sheriff folded his hands and sat quietly for a long moment before he finally spoke. “You think the fire was set purposely by this Vince Stoke?”
“I know it was.” Kane’s jaw worked from side to side. “But I don’t have any proof. We had nothing but the clothes on our back. All the papers had been destroyed in the fire. And the local magistrate was bought off, because even though he knew our family had owned that land for years, he wouldn’t help. I had these two to think of. So I sold the horse and wagon and we started west. We worked doing odd jobs for anyone who would hire us, most times just for food. Then I took powerful sick. I don’t remember much of the next few days.” Kane glanced at her.
And the sheriff’s narrowed gaze followed.
Maude swallowed. “After Kane took sick, we couldn’t find anyone who would hire us. They all said we was too young to do an honest day’s work. And the one place I explained that our brother had taken sick, the lady clapped her apron over her mouth and shooed us away with a broom. By the time we got here, Kane was so fever-racked that he couldn’t travel anymore and the weather had started to turn cold. We needed more than just food.” She hesitated, plucking at her skirt as she worked up the courage to keep speaking. “I knew it was wrong—”
“We knew it was wrong,” Seth inserted.
Maude nodded. “But we were afraid Kane was dying. In fact, I think he was dying. If it wasn’t for Mr. Davis helping us find that warm room at the Kastains, I don’t know what we would have done.”
The marshal and the sheriff smirked at one another.
The marshal said, “Mr. Davis. There’s something we haven’t heard before.”
Maude frowned. She didn’t like the way their tones disparaged the kind—and okay, handsome—man who had helped them. She lifted her chin. “He was downright gentlemanly.”
The lawmen both composed their features.
“Yes. I’m glad he was able to help you find lodging. However, that doesn’t negate the fact that I have several people in town who were wronged by your theft.”
Maude’s shoulders slumped. “Yes, sir. I know. We’ll be happy to work to make it up to them.”
“The Kastains have said we’re welcome to keep renting the room in their barn for a dollar a month,” Kane said.
Maude lifted her gaze. She hadn’t even known her brother had spoken to them about that.
He continued. “I like it here. Good community. If I can find work, we’d like to stay. And we are happy to pay back more than what was taken from anyone my brother and sister wronged.”
The sheriff scrubbed a hand over his jaw and met the marshal’s gaze. They both nodded at each other.
“Well, all right then. I’m satisfied that it was a culmination of bad circumstances that resulted in poor judgement.” The sheriff bounced a look between her and Seth. “I hope from now on you’ll realize that just because a few people treat you badly, doesn’t mean everyone will.” He stood and stretched his hand first to Kane, then to Seth, and finally to her. “We’re happy to have you join our community. Now how about we make a list of everyone you took something from and go from there.”
Maude released a breath of relief. The magistrate back home likely would have had them pilloried and flogged.
This hadn’t been nearly as painful as she’d feared it would be.
Chapter 4
After they spoke to the attendant and learned that there had indeed been an avalanche on the tracks to the east, Mrs. Holloway slumped morosely onto a bench near the stove.
Kin was trying to decide how best to encourage her when he noticed a man wearing a conductor’s uniform organizing a group near the station’s entrance. “I’ll be right back
.”
He jogged through the crowd, hoping he wasn’t going to miss what the man was saying.
“—heading out in fifteen minutes. If you’ve got a shovel, bring it. Those who don’t have one, can spell the ones who do, from time to time.”
A man at the back of those gathered raised his hand. “How big was the slide?”
The conductor shook his head. “Small enough that the train seemed undamaged, from what the rider who brought the news said. But that’s about all we know at this point. If we can, we hope to shovel out the tracks enough that the train can get here. It’s not too far down from here.”
This was good news. He made his way back toward Mrs. Holloway. He could go with the group to help shovel. Hopefully that would ease her mind some. Kin propped his hands on his hips as he waited for a man pushing a large cart piled high with luggage to pass.
A thought occurred to him and he smirked. From the way the rest of the Christmas presents he’d been asked to help with had gone this year, he probably should have known that he ought to decline to help with this one. Seemed it was his year to have to repair the gone-awry Christmas plans of every woman in Wyldhaven.
When the cart of baggage passed, he looked up to see Parson Clay and Tommy standing next to Mrs. Holloway. He’d forgotten that today was the day they were supposed to leave to go be with PC’s family back east for Christmas.
Agitation twisting his features, Tommy rushed toward him. His hands wrung. “Th-the train got a bunch of s-snow on it. W-we d-don’t get to go to PC’s m-ma’s house no more.”
Kin settled a hand on Tommy’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. I know you were looking forward to that.”
Tommy nodded. “L-looking forward to it. To C-Christmas.”
“We can still have Christmas Tom, you’ll see.”
“Still have Christmas?” A new hope lit Tommy’s expression.
Kin nodded. “Of course. I’ll make sure it’s a good one, all right?”
Tommy jumped up and down, hands flapping. He grinned at PC. “K-Kin will m-make sure it’s a good C-Christmas!”
Marshal Zane's Christmas Horse: A Wyldhaven Series Christmas Romance Novella Page 2