A slow smile lifted his lips and crinkled the lines at the corners of his eyes. He leaned back a bit more and gazed down his nose at her.
“I reckon I could manage.”
At the suggestion in his eyes, heat rushed up her neck. She’d never been the recipient of such a look, but even a complete ninny recognized desire when she saw it.
She had to be bold now. Brave, even. “Then you’ll marry me?”
He nodded and extended a hand. “You’ve got a deal, Christmas.”
Ignoring the butterflies battering her stomach, she reached for his hand.
A loud whinny from the barn-attached side of the cabin and a banging on the stable door had Hap on his feet and sliding into his coat.
A hard look replaced his smile. “Stay put.” He grabbed his rifle before opening the door and stepping out, shutting the door behind him.
Carole scrambled out of bed. Terror flooded her body. Had her cousins finally found her? Hands shaking, she pulled on the denim pants, socks, wrapped the quilt around her shoulders, and stepped to the door. She pressed an ear to the wood, listening intently.
Chapter 9
Her proposal rattled him to his bootheels.
He’d never expected to marry.
Might have to do some serious considering about the situation…that was for sure.
Rustler banged on the stable wall again.
As he stepped off the porch and reached to open the top half of the stable door, Hap scanned the valley. In the distance, following the same track he’d traversed himself, came four riders.
The flurries had stopped but their travel was still slow going, the horses knee-deep in the new-fallen snow.
Hap retreated to the porch.
Rustler hung his head over the panel and snorted his disapproval.
Behind Hap, the door creaked.
“Who’s coming?” Carole whispered.
“Looks like some of your kinfolk. Get back. Bolt the door. Do you know how to use a gun?” His gaze stayed fixed on the riders heading down the valley trail.
“Yes.”
“My sidearm is in my holster, hanging on a peg on the wall under my extra shirt. Don’t shoot me.”
“This is no joking matter, Mr. James.”
“I’m not joking, Christmas. Now bolt that door.”
Once the riders hit the base of the track to the valley floor, they made a run for the cabin and spun to a stop in front of the porch, scattering dirt, rocks and slush.
“You boys lost?” Hap asked, raising a brow. He stood, feet spread, his rifle balanced across his forearm, grip steady and ready for any move these scalawags were tempted to make.
Every one of them had an unshaven face, similar scowls, and wore clothes that hadn’t seen a washtub in a good long while, if ever. Looked like Carole had let her cousins fend for themselves.
Good girl.
“We ain’t lost,” the oldest, most weathered looking of the four snarled. Short stirrups and dirt-water brown hair read them each as brothers. “We seen your smoke, and we’re lookin’ for our cousin. She rode out two—maybe three—days ago, and we ain’t seen her since. She coulda made it this far. She had a horse, but it come back without her.” He edged his mount closer to the porch. “You seen her?”
The other horses shied around, shuffling, stirring up the snow-streaked mud.
Rustler snorted from the stable, whinnying in annoyance.
“I haven’t seen her or any sign of anyone down this valley.” Hap nodded at the horizon. “Storm’s comin’. You best find that cousin of yours and head for home. Had a slide earlier at the far end, so nobody is getting out in that direction.”
“You gonna invite us in for a cup ’a hot coffee?” Another short box of a man danced his buckskin closer and made to dismount.
Hap stepped to the edge of the porch and readjusted his grip on his rifle.
“Yeah.” Another of the brothers, this one built larger and sporting bushy sideburns, sidestepped his horse, looking like he’d swing down, as well. “That seems like the neighborly thing to do here.”
“Nope.” Hap held his gun at the ready. “Not today, fellas. Sure be a kindness to get those horses back to shelter before they drop, and I haven’t got enough supplies to be sharin’.”
One of them growled.
Hap nodded toward the distant black clouds closing in. “That storm’s arriving any time. If you head out now, you might get back to High River before the weather hits.”
“How’d you know we was from High River? We never said that,” the eldest brother spoke up, his eyes narrowed.
“Sheriff Granger mentioned you boys maybe bein’ neighbors. Said she was gonna keep an eye on you and asked me to do the same.”
“Dang busybody. She ain’t got no cause suspicionin’ us. We ain’t done nothin’.”
“You managed to lose your cousin.”
“That weren’t our fault. She just run off,” bushy-sideburns whined.
“Well, maybe explain that to the sheriff, and she’ll put together a search party. Help you find her before she freezes to death out here.”
“Yeah. We’ll think on that.” The eldest wheeled his horse in a tight half-turn.
“Do you want me to ride in and tell Granger what happened, so you can keep searching?”
“Naw. We’ll take care of it. That danged female is our kin. No point you bein’ out in this storm, too.”
“Yeah, no need at all.” The four exchanged glances.
“That’s real considerate of you all. I’ll keep an eye out, just in case.”
“Obliged. Let’s go, boys. We gotta find that stupid woman ’fore she gets herself dead and we—”
“Yeah, let’s go.” The eldest one whacked the baby-face with his hat and yanked his horse around to head back up the valley. The other three followed at a fast clip.
Hap stood still and watched them until they rode to the top of the trail and out of sight.
He heard wood creak.
“Don’t open that door,” he ordered in a harsh whisper.
“Are they gone?”
“Not far enough.”
Hap didn’t care to take the chance they’d double back to see if he’d lied.
He stepped down from the porch and reached for the top door on Rustler’s shelter. “Thanks for the warning, big guy.”
The stallion shook his head.
Patting the horse’s neck, he closed the door and stood for several minutes, intent on the ridge at the far end of the valley. No wonder Carole wanted to escape that wretched bunch. No way would he desert her to their tender mercies, as if they had any. No sir. He was committed now—for better or worse.
One last look and he turned, stepped up on the porch, pushed open the door, and nearly smacked Carole in the face.
“Good grief, Christmas, get away from the door. And don’t go looking out the window, either.”
“They’re gone, aren’t they?”
“Looks that way, but caution never hurt a body, so let’s wait a bit to be sure.”
“Okay.” She turned and moved to the bed.
She wore the denim pants and his too-big-for-her shirt. Her feet looked small and delicate when she climbed back on the bed and wrestled the quilt around herself.
“Right.” He walked to the table and sat in the only chair, propping his rifle against the nearest wall. “Now, tell me about your cousins. What do you know they’re planning?”
Carole sat in the middle of the bed with the quilt tucked around her. “Their scheming to marry me off to one of them so they can take over my grandfather’s ranch. That’s what they plan! I heard them talking one night when they thought I’d retired for the evening. After that, they intend to murder me.”
Hap’s fists clenched.
“Had a lively discussion about whether to drop me down the well or the abandoned mine shaft they’d scouted out—after they have the deed signed over, of course. That’s when I figured I’d better get out of there and find
the sheriff.”
“Don’t you have family that would notice if you went missing?”
“Yes, my parents. But weeks could pass before they realized I hadn’t written, something must be wrong, and my brother or father could get here.” She twisted the quilt in her fists. “My cousins are vicious, not stupid. They intend to make my demise look like an accident.”
Tears welled in her beautiful green eyes. With a forlorn look, she swiped at them with the corner of the quilt. But nothing seemed to stem the tide.
Hap’s gut twisted.
“Stop cryin’, Christmas. Right now.” He crossed to the bed, sat, and tugged her into his arms. “Do you think for one minute I’d let anything happen to you? We have a deal now, don’t we?”
Nodding, she pushed closer.
Christmas was small, but thankfully not frail. She had a strength to her. He could hold her without feeling as though she would shatter like one of his mom’s precious china cups.
“I thought I could handle anything,” she said through hiccupping sobs. “I wanted to live on Grandfather’s ranch and raise my horses. But my cousins scare me, Halloran.” She leaned into him and spanned his ribcage with her arms, holding tight. “They’re really, really mean.”
“They’re bullies.” He smoothed her hair like he would a hand-shy colt. “But only with someone smaller or weaker. They’d never face off with someone their own size, or even one on one. Jackals run in packs.”
“They were going to drown my grandfather’s cat and kittens. The mama had her litter in the pantry, and those foul men wanted to drop them in the creek—in a burlap bag—all of them.” She stiffened and her voice grew stronger.
“And what did you do?” He eased her froth of red curls away from her face and rested his cheek against her forehead. Her skin was like silk. He closed his eyes to relish the moment.
“I hid them in the barn. In the loft.” She leaned into him again and tightened her grip around his middle. “I buried the ladder under the hay so they wouldn’t know what I’d done,” she said in a so-there whisper.
“Good thinking.” He smiled at her resourcefulness. “There’s good hunting in any barn. She’ll be fine until we get back to rescue them.”
She nodded but didn’t release him.
“You know…since we’re getting married, you can call me Hap.”
“Hap for Happy? How did you get that nickname?”
He playfully touched her nose. “That’s a story for another time.”
Carole gave him a watery smile.
The wind wailed down the valley, sending a banshee’s cry through the trees.
The walls shook. The windows rattled.
She burrowed closer, out of fear or being chilled, didn’t matter.
Hap hoped she wasn’t crying. He couldn’t bear to see her tears. Somehow, he needed to take her mind off her snake-mean cousins.
“We’d better check this old cabin for drafts,” he said, leaning back against the headboard and looking up at the ceiling. “That storm’s coming. Looks like we’ll be staying put for a while until we can shovel out. I brought mudding. We just need some straw.” Hap rubbed a hand up and down her arm, for warmth and for comfort, but mostly because he liked touching her.
With a small intake of breath, Carole lifted her head and looked up at him. “You brought mud?”
“Not really mud. More like clay and dirt mixed with some lime to make a waterproof filler. The Indians use the mixture to patch walls, mold bricks, and build adobe houses. The dried daubing is durable and makes good insulation.”
“I could help.” She straightened away from him.
Hap wished he’d kept his big mouth shut. He liked holding her. He liked the feel of her in his arms. But now wasn’t the time for such thoughts.
Forcing himself to ease away, he scooted off the bed, then reached back and pulled up the covers, snugging them around her.
“Stay put,” he said. “I’ll tend to Rustler and get some straw to mix in the daubing. I don’t think we have any serious holes, but I’d rather patch what we can find now. We can’t let any heat escape, and we’ll conserve on the wood we have to burn later.”
“Is Rustler going to be okay out there?”
“I checked for drafts earlier. The structure is solid. He should be fine.”
Standing for a moment, just looking at her, he couldn’t move. She reminded him of one of those china dolls he’d seen at Cobb’s Mercantile with a halo of copper curls settling around her shoulders. He just needed to remember that she intended their relationship to be a ‘convenience’ and in name only.
Stop staring. She’ll take back her offer.
“I’ll be right back, and we’ll get to work.” He forced himself to move to the door, thinking over all he needed to consider.
Options he’d never counted on stared him in the face. A wife. Children. A family of his own. All things he’d put aside with the death of his parents. Carole made them real again. Did he dare?
Oh, Lord, do I dare risk my heart?
Chapter 10
Hap slipped out, pulling the door tight against the fierce wind racing down the valley, stinging snow flurries fast on the storm’s shirttails. He couldn’t see the far ridge through the white curtain, which meant no one spying from there could see the cabin. That suited him just fine.
He opened the top half of the stable door.
Rustler poked out his head, looked around, and stepped back, snorting his disapproval.
“You got that right, buddy. Nobody should be out in this cursed weather.” Hap checked the water barrel just inside the door, still nearly full, and dumped another can full of grain into the feeder. Hay was within reach. “You’re all set. Hunker down and rest easy. I’ll check on you after a bit.”
He pried a hunk of the bale loose and then closed the door, dropping the crossbar into place so the wind wouldn’t rip open the door.
Praise God the stable shares a wall with the cabin. I don’t have to grope blindly from the barn to the house and risk wandering off into nowhere. Another couple of minutes out in this storm, which was fast becoming a blizzard in his estimation, and his ears would freeze right off his head.
He crossed the porch, opened the cabin door as little as possible and slid inside, bolting the door behind him.
Carole stood next to the potbelly stove, holding her Christmas quilt up to the heat to warm one side. She turned and held it out.
“Wrap this around you. Around your head, too. Your ears are really red. Do they hurt?”
“I can hardly feel them.” Hap dropped the hay in a bucket near the door and stepped forward, taking the warmed fabric into his cold hands. He swung the quilt around his shoulders and pulled the edges up to cover his ears. “Sweet Jesus, that feels good. A few more minutes and I think frostbite would have been a real consideration. Thanks for the blanket.”
Her sweet smile warmed him from the inside out, more than any quilt could ever do.
“The coffee’s hot. Would you like more?” She stepped back, ready to reach for the cup he’d left sitting on the table.
“I would. Thank you.”
Hap couldn’t remember the last time someone not in his employment worried about his personal comfort. Her kindness warmed his heart, reminding him of how his parents always considered the needs of their partner ahead of their own. The forgotten memory surprised and comforted him.
I could get used to this kind of caring.
Sitting down on the chair nearest the stove, he pressed the quilt to his ears. They tingled like they’d been pricked with sharp needles. Painful but reassuring. He still had feeling in both.
Had Carole’s cousins made it back to High River before the storm caught them? He hoped the horses survived without injury—although he couldn’t say the same about the men.
“Here’s your coffee.” She came close enough to touch.
Along with the smell of coffee, he caught a whiff of cinnamon and apple blossoms, accompanied by a scent
that was uniquely Carole’s own. Enticed by her fragrance, Hap wanted to nuzzle his face into her neck right under her ear where the scent would be most intense.
To cover his reaction, he pulled the quilt close around his neck and reached for the cup she held out. A sip of the strong, hot brew warmed him all the way down.
Odd, really. He hadn’t noticed a woman’s fragrance since he’d lost his ma. Memories of lilacs and fresh bread came to mind whenever he thought of his mother, along with the ache of missing her something fierce.
Taking another drink, the smell of coffee eased the memories of fresh bread and lilacs into the past, where he could deal with them.
Christmas perched on the edge of the rough-hewn bedstead. Once again, she’d tucked her stocking feet under her and pulled a wool blanket over her legs. She still wore the rolled-up dungarees and his own woolen shirt. If it weren’t for the froth of red-gold hair hanging around her face, she could have passed for a youth—that is, if he hadn’t held that particular body close or had her arms wrapped around him in a vise-like grip.
But Hap remembered the press of her small, plump breasts against his chest and the definite curve of her waist as she clung to him in sleep. He could never—would never—forget how she felt in his arms.
He wanted to feel that way again. Be close to another person. Experience affection. The thoughts made him lightheaded and aroused. Down, cowboy.
For right now, he needed to keep his mind on other concerns. Being stranded in a blizzard required planning and attention to some serious details. Conserving the wood they laid up and making sure they could melt the water they needed were critical. In this storm, running out of dry wood could be a death sentence, and, subsequently, becoming snowed in would not help their chances of survival, either.
Hap had known coming out here to this cabin could be risky this time of year, but he figured he could manage. He’d done so before. He hadn’t, however, reckoned on having to fend for his very own Christmas angel.
His Christmas Carole (Rescued Hearts Series Book 1) Page 6