A Stockingful of Joy

by Hannah Howell

  “You felt a need for some adventure?”

  “No, I felt a need to protect Deidre.”

  “The stronger and more worldly Deidre?”

  She smiled and nodded. “Yes, and I pray she doesn’t figure that out. She could become cross.” She looked up at him, knowing it would not take him long to see how ill-prepared she was for the job she had taken on, if he had not already, and wanting him to understand what drove her. “As I told you in the dining room, I owe Deidre and my uncle more than I can say. They not only took in a penniless orphan, they treated me as part of the family. Deidre truly is like my own sister. I fear I did not think of who was better suited for which journey, only that Deidre felt this route was the more dangerous. Naturally, once I knew that, I could not switch with her.”

  “Naturally.” He shook his head, but he did understand. “Well, my brother Tyrone is also taking the more convoluted route and, damn his hide, he probably nagged me to switch for the very same reasons. Who knows? Maybe those two will bump into each other just like we did.”

  “Would he try to make her go back?”

  “He would, but he’d also see why she couldn’t. If she does meet up with him, he’ll get her to Paradise safely.”

  “It’s more coincidence than we can hope for, I think.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. We each picked very similar routes. Not that surprising as there aren’t that many ways to get from Saint Louis to Paradise, not unless one’s on horseback the whole way. Maybe that was the only coincidence and the rest will just fall into place.”

  “That would be nice. As I said, Deidre’s strong, but when one is dealing with killers, a little help could mean the difference between life and death.”

  Mitchell turned his gaze on their fellow passengers, studying them carefully as he considered all the possible ramifications of Tyrone meeting Deidre Kenney. If Deidre really was as pretty as Maura, Tyrone would be thinking about seduction, probably as fast as Mitchell himself had. Unfortunately, the cynical Mitchell would not be doing it because he felt he had just met his mate for life. If Tyrone and Deidre Kenney paired up for the journey to Paradise, Deidre might reach the town safely, but, quite probably, well bedded. Mitchell winced as he envisioned arriving in Paradise with Maura only to find a seduced and abandoned cousin. And, recalling the flashes of anger he had glimpsed in Maura, probably a thoroughly enraged one as well. Such a thing would not help him in his goal to make Maura want to stay with him. He shook aside that concern, seeing no gain in worrying over something that had not yet happened and might never happen.

  His eyes narrowed as he realized that two burly, unwashed men at the front of the car were far too interested in him and Maura. They were trying to be subtle in their observations, but were failing miserably. Maura was enough to draw any man’s gaze, but he did not think admiration for a beautiful woman was what prompted the constant glances from these two men. Mitchell was sure the two men were trouble, but just how much and how soon it would strike, he could not guess. He struggled to keep the tension he felt out of his voice and body, not wishing to alarm Maura. Depending upon what the two men did, the comfort and speed of the train might already have been cast aside.

  “What do you intend to do with the money from this?” he asked her, hoping conversation would keep her unaware of any possible danger and keep him distracted enough so that he did not act rashly out of fear for her.

  “Deidre and I intend to improve our farm,” she replied, wondering why that no longer filled her with the interest and urge to plan that it had at the start of her journey. “Since my uncle had a job, we did not need to make the farm produce all that much to live comfortably. Now we shall.”

  “You and your cousin want to become farmers?” He tried to picture two delicate redheads out in the hot sun seeding, plowing, and reaping. Although pure pigheadedness would probably make them modestly successful, the backbreaking labor would age them far beyond their years. “That is no work for little ladies.”

  “Deidre and I are not unaccustomed to hard work, Mister Callahan.”

  The stiffness in her voice told Mitchell that he had offended her, and he grimaced. He had always been one to speak his mind bluntly and he doubted he could change now. He certainly doubted he could change before they reached Paradise. Even as he promised himself he would try to temper his words, Mitchell decided that Maura needed to learn to be far less sensitive. She would hear a lot worse if she followed through on her plans. A lot of people found it highly offensive for a woman to do a man’s job. If the two women were successful, they could also count on their fellow farmers making trouble for them. No man could long stomach a woman doing a better job than he did.

  “Just because you can do the work, doesn’t mean it will suit you,” he said, gentling his tone.

  “Our families may not have made a great success at farming, but it’s all we’ve known. The house and the land are now ours. It seems logical to make it our living.” She shrugged. “We have a mule, a plow, and fertile land. What would you do?”

  “Work it, but I’m not a little bit of a female with skin so fair I’d probably light up like a match under a hot sun. I know women can farm. I’ve seen it. I’ve also seen how it bends their backs, steals all the youth from their faces, and makes them look far, far older than they are. It’s foolish for two beautiful young women to willingly plow their health and youth into the dirt, if you ask me.”

  “Well, no one asked you,” Maura snapped, her annoyance growing when she realized he had made her lose her temper—again. Before the argument could gather strength, however, Deidre was diverted by the slowing pace of the train. “Why are we stopping?”

  A little relieved that the quarrel had not continued, for he knew he would just say more things to annoy her, Mitchell glanced out the window. “We’re stopping for water.”

  “So soon?”

  “Trains need a lot of water. Want to get out and stretch your legs?”

  When she nodded, he stood up and gently helped her out of her seat. She was a little puzzled when he took great care in getting her into her coat, tugging her hat onto her head, and wrapping a heavy scarf around her neck. Maura felt a little bit like a child being prepared to go out and play in the snow. If Mitchell thought of her as little more than a child, it would certainly help her with her goal of maintaining some distance between them. And yet, Maura realized that she did not like the idea at all, was even hurt and insulted by it. Recalling the way he had kissed her, a kiss no man would give a child, actually relieved her mind. She was, she decided, becoming contrary. It was almost sad. She had barely known Mitchell a day, could number the time spent in his company in mere hours, yet he was already having a devastating effect on her carefully constructed facade and her rigorously controlled emotions.

  Once outside, she took a deep breath of the crisp, clean air. With each breath she cleaned her nose and lungs of the less pleasant scents of unwashed people, train smoke, and the, thankfully, occasional whiff of a very cheap cigar. She wished she could bottle some of the fresh air so that she could take a sniff each time those unsavory aromas grew too much to bear. At least Mitchell smelled nice, she mused, then cursed herself for even noticing that.

  Glancing up at the gray-blue sky, she murmured, “At least there is no hint of snow.”

  “We’re having a mild winter, so far, at least. It’s one of the few things working in our favor.”

  “Is it? If it makes travel easier for us . . .” she began, then grew silent when he cursed.

  “It makes it easier for them. I know,” he ground out between clenched teeth.

  “Sorry. That was obviously something you did not wish to be reminded of,” she said as he took her by the arm and they started to stroll the length of the train.

  “Actually, it’s something I’d be a fool to forget. I fear I’ve allowed myself to be lulled into complacency because I haven’t had to confront any of the Martins’ hirelings.”

  “Well, you were headed the wr
ong way. Somehow, the Martins learned that Deidre and I had taken on Uncle’s responsibilities. I fear they might have even learned when we left. All they had to figure out was which route we took, and I fear they have learned that as well. I suspect they know the same things about you and your brother. You were simply going to find out what happened to the people you had hired, to find the papers, while the Martins knew the deeds had already left Saint Louis and so could ignore you. I suspect there may be someone in Saint Louis assigned to making sure you don’t find out about me and Deidre and come back after us. Now that you are with me, they seek you out as well. Perhaps . . .” she began as they reached the end of the train and turned so that they were headed back toward their own car.

  “No,” he said firmly, looking for the two men who had so keenly aroused his suspicions in the railroad car.

  “You cannot possibly know what I was about to say,” she protested.

  “Yes, I do. You were about to suggest that I allow you to finish the journey without my charming company.”

  She wanted to deny it but could not. “I may have been thinking that, since the Martins have not yet set anyone on your trail, you might be wise to take your great hulking self off in another direction.”

  “Hulking?” He pulled a mournful face and placed his hand over his heart. “You wound me, darlin’.”

  “I doubt it.”

  “Anyway, there is no point in me leaving your side now. Not only would it be extremely cowardly of me, but I am sure I have already been seen with you. I have no doubt that I am already a marked man.”

  “They might still think you are, well, just some flirtatious gentleman I met on the train.”

  “Nope. The Martins have known me and Tyrone for a long time. I’m sure they’ve passed out real clear descriptions of us and warned all of their men to watch out for us. They don’t want us to get back home.”

  Before Maura could respond to that dire outlook, Mitchell tensed and peered intently between the railroad cars. She was just about to ask him what had caught his attention when he cursed and shoved her aside. Maura cried out as she landed on her back on the hard, snowy ground. Several shots rang out and Mitchell’s body landed on top of hers hard enough to push the breath from her lungs. She was faintly aware of screams, shouts, and the sound of people running as the other passengers who had stepped out for a moment ran for safety.

  For one brief, horrified moment, she feared Mitchell had been shot dead. A hundred regrets fled through her mind. She wondered a little wildly how she had collected so many in such a short time. Then she felt his hard chest move against hers as he breathed.

  “I thought you had been shot!” she cried, torn between a dizzying sense of relief and outrage that he would frighten her so.

  “Not at the moment, but there are two fools would sure like to put a bullet in me. You, too, so stay down,” he ordered.

  As if she could do anything else with so much male flattening her into the ground, she thought. Her heart pounding so furiously she would not be surprised to discover he could feel it even through their heavy clothes, Maura lay as still as she was able so as not to disturb his concentration in any way. She had told herself she was aware of the danger she was in, was ready to face it, and now she knew she had lied to herself. Although she had been chased, even nearly caught once, followed and watched, she had never faced such a blatant attack. Neither had she so clearly seen that this business could cost her her life, that, in truth, her life meant absolutely nothing to these people. Just as her uncle and Bill’s lives had meant nothing. Just as the Callahan brothers meant nothing. And all of this killing was considered acceptable in order to gain land, wealth, and prestige.

  The icy fingers of terror clutched at her heart and Maura fought them back with a rising fury. This was an appalling situation, and she would not allow these murderers to force her to cower in some corner. She wished she was a man so that she could stand at Mitchell’s side and fight these killers, instead of being shielded by Mitchell’s large body, pressed against the frozen ground so hard that she could feel the chill of the earth deep in her bones. Although she had spoken of revenge for her uncle and Bill’s murders, Maura now knew that she had never truly felt that urge, not deep down in her heart. Now she did.

  Mitchell fired, the blast of the gun so close, Maura felt a painful shock in her ear. One brief glance revealed a man who had obviously been stepping between two cars. He slowly sank to the ground, blood soon staining the snow beneath him. She knew she should be horrified, but, at the moment, she felt no more than relief with a hint of grim satisfaction. The sound of a rifle shot pierced the air next. She felt Mitchell jerk with surprise and wondered what would happen next. Maura was just about to ask when he slowly got to his feet, tugged her up on hers, and caught her close by his side when she swayed.

  Through the space between the railroad cars, Maura could see a second body sprawled facedown in the snow. Then two railroad guards appeared, pausing only to nudge each body with a booted foot as they walked toward her and Mitchell. Even though she felt steadier on her feet, she kept close to Mitchell. The two lean, hard men might work for the railroad, but they looked neither welcoming nor safe.

  “Only two men?” Mitchell asked, not liking the way the two guards studied him and Maura.

  “Only two,” answered the taller of the two, his neatly cut sandy hair barely visible beneath his big hat. “They were after you and the woman?”

  “Yes. I noticed them just before the train stopped and thought they looked suspicious,” Mitchell replied. “I hadn’t realized there were any guards on this train.”

  “Which is just the way we like it. Allows us to keep a closer watch. Man doesn’t think he’s being watched and he acts natural. You’re right. These two acted suspicious.” He briefly glanced back at the two dead bodies. “I’d thought they were planning a robbery.” His narrowed gaze returned to Mitchell. “Planned a killing instead.”

  “Don’t know how they planned to get away afterward.”

  “There was a man waiting on them with two horses near the water tower. Winged him, but he rode off.”

  “Damn. I was hoping this was all of them.” He glanced at an avidly listening Maura and inwardly winced.

  Maura listened to Mitchell and the tall guard discuss the two dead men. While the second guard stood silently by, Mitchell and the other man played question-and-answer games. Each time Mitchell neatly avoided a direct reply to the man’s query, making it clear that he intended to tell the man as little as possible. Both guards began to look grimmer and grimmer, although, if asked, Maura would have thought that impossible. In fact, they began to eye Mitchell as if he was the cause of all the trouble. It was grossly unfair, but instinct told Maura not to argue and she decided to listen to its advice.

  “Why is it you don’t want to tell me exactly what is going on here?” demanded the guard.

  “It’s personal and there’s really nothing you can do to help me solve the problem,” Mitchell replied. “I know who’s after me and why, but I’ve got no proof of my allegations.”

  “Well, keep your trouble private if it suits you, but you’ll do it elsewhere.”

  “Not here, I hope.”

  “Nope, you can get back on the train this time. Might as well enjoy it while you can. At the next stop you and the lady will get off and stay off. I suspect you can find another way to get where you’re going.”

  Chapter Four

  “BOOTED OFF THE TRAIN. Tossed out like some common criminal. I have never been so—so—” Words failed Maura as she walked beside Mitchell toward a large, very plain, and obviously very new hotel.

  “Mortified?” Mitchell cheerfully offered her a possible choice of word to complete her sentence.

  “How can you be so blase about this?”

  He shrugged. “Not much choice. We might try getting on another train if there’s one passing through anytime soon. Could check at the ticket office.”

  “I wouldn’t bot
her. I just saw that guard go into the telegraph office. Unless he is sending word to his mother or the like, I think using the trains might soon be a lost option. I do believe he is sending out a warning about us.” She sighed. “It is almost as bad as seeing my face on a wanted poster somewhere.”

  “Then it’s the stage.” He glanced down at her. “Or horse?”

  “In this cold? I should also confess that I am not a very good rider,” she said quietly. “My mother felt proper ladies should only ride in carriages. When I went to live with Deidre, she began teaching me, but I’m not nearly as good as she is.”

  “Not to worry. We’ll think of something.” He set their bags down on the rough board sidewalk in front of the hotel and advanced on her until he had her neatly trapped against the side of the building.

  “You are behaving most improperly again,” she said, blushing when a couple walking by glanced their way and quickened their steps. “I think you are shocking people.”

  “I just want to talk to you before we go into the hotel.”

  “And this conversation requires that I be flattened against a wall?”

  He grinned briefly, then eyed her with a combination of wariness and determination. “We are getting only one room. We will sign ourselves in as Mister and Mrs. J. T. Booker.”

  “We will, will we?” Maura did not know if she should be outraged or alarmed.

  “Yes, we will, and you can just stop looking at me as if I’m something that oozed out from under a rock.” He sighed and then gave her a crooked, almost sheepish, smile. “I won’t say that all of my thoughts about sharing a room with you are innocent. They damned well aren’t. Seduction isn’t why I’m saying we have to do this, however. Someone just tried to kill us. They weren’t even sneaky about it, either.”