by Jillian Hart
“Excuse me.” She hated to move away from him. It was like walking away from paradise. She wondered if Rafe felt the same. His gray eyes had turned charcoal with emotion, and there was no mistaking his gentle regard as he watched her cross the room.
Her heart began to pound. She had given up on romance and it had found her, anyway. God had not forgotten her, although she had lost hope. She opened the inside door, which led into the shop.
Molly, one of her part-time helpers, peered in. “There’s a customer asking for you, Cora.”
“I’ll be right there.” Her voice didn’t sound like her own. Her words were too happy and far too hopeful. The door to the shop closed, giving them privacy. “My lunchtime is over.”
“Then I’ll get out of your way.” He grabbed his coat and his hat. “I want to talk more with you, Cora.”
“I would like that.” Rafe was the kind of man she could talk to forever. He fascinated her. She felt he truly cared when he listened to her. “The store is closed on Sundays.”
“Sunday, then.” He loaded his arms with the wrapped bundle of Holly’s new things. His gaze darkened as he paced closer.
My, but he looked intent. Joanna’s words rolled into her mind. He cannot keep his eyes off you. Mark my words, he’s sweet on you. She smiled shyly as he leaned close, gazing into her eyes for one long moment.
“You are a mighty fine lady, Cora Sims.” He moved to the door, but he didn’t look as if he wanted to leave.
His words made her resistance tumble. She could no longer deny it. She was sweet on him. Of all the men who had crossed her path both here and in Miles City, where she used to live, none had ever affected her like this. “Will you and Holly be attending church?”
“I reckon she will drag me there.” The twinkle in his dark eyes said that he didn’t mind so much. “Any chance you would want to sit next to me?”
She was foolhardy, that was what she was, liking him far too much. But his steady gentleness made it simple to believe that he felt the same way. “I’d be glad to sit with you.”
“How about that?” He hesitated, as if there was more he wanted to say, but he opened the door. Snowflakes tumbled over him, dappling him with their purity, clinging to him like grace. He was more snowflake than shadow. The last thing she saw was his heart in his smile. He closed the door, leaving her alone to weave dreams of him.
Holly hung back, clinging to the wooden sill of the dry-goods store’s display window. To keep her new dress for Sunday, she wore her old clothes, and had a neglected look to her. She needed Cora, Rafe thought, someone who would have enough love to spend on the little things. Like hair ribbons and starched bonnets and perfectly tied sashes.
Too bad he hadn’t been able to break the news to Cora. He drew up short on the boardwalk. If they hadn’t been interrupted, that girl might have a home right now. “Holly.”
She didn’t answer. Probably couldn’t hear him. She was mesmerized by the Christmas tree on display behind the glass. This was the third time she had fallen behind. He knew why. She was dreaming about Christmas at her new home with her ma, wishing and praying with all her might.
He waited, keeping a careful eye out. Something didn’t feel right. He couldn’t put his finger on what, so he stayed attentive. The door to the dry-goods store swung open and a severe-looking woman with a raised broom headed straight for Holly.
“Shoo! Get away from my window! Your kind isn’t welcome here!”
He stood in front of Holly. “Calm down, ma’am. She isn’t doing any harm.”
“She’s scaring away customers.” The woman rounded on him with the vigor of a feral cat. “And I just washed that glass. And you…I’m calling the sheriff, that’s what I’ll do!”
“Don’t you hurt that child, ma’am,” he said, while Holly stared, confused. Poor thing. “Come, Holly. Let’s move along.”
“Riffraff!” the woman said.
He had been called worse. He kept a hand on Holly’s shoulder, moving her along. He didn’t bother to hurry. The woman didn’t concern him much. He could feel her disdain pouring after him like a chill on the wind. He was used to it. Some people considered him no better than an outlaw, never mind that his work made their world safer.
“That’s what Mrs. Beams called me.” Holly’s hand crept into his and held on tightly.
“Don’t you pay any mind to folk like that. They have their own set of problems.”
“I was just lookin’.” She sighed, dragging her feet at the next window display. “That one’s got a real doll. Not a corncob, but a real doll.”
“Now, I can’t afford a fancy porcelain doll.” He meant to sound gruff, but it didn’t come out that way.
The girl sighed again. “I was just lookin’, is all.”
Maybe he would have to come back and buy that doll, maybe when he stopped by the sheriff’s to make sure the charges were going to stick. It wouldn’t hurt the girl to have a nice Christmas present.
They cut down the alley and took the back way into the hotel. The stairs creaked and the place was drafty, but after he got a fire built in the stoves in both rooms, it was comfortable. While Holly laid out her new purchases on her bed and told her doll all about them, he sat down with the gold-and-pearl-inlaid sewing case. Cora Emmaline Bauer Sims was etched in fancy lettering across the top.
Cora Emmaline Bauer Sims, according to the land office, owned her shop and her house outright. He opened the delicate case and ran a callused fingertip over the fine velvet-and-silk lining. All the utensils were missing, places where a thimble, scissors, needles and various other sewing tools had once neatly fit. It was a wonder that Holly had been able to hold on to it.
The memory of Cora’s pretty blush stayed with him. In his mind’s eye he could see her lovely face pinkening and her eyes deepening to a captivating blue. He went to put away the sewing kit and caught his reflection in the bureau mirror. Gruff. Rugged. A loaded gun at either hip.
Too bad he didn’t have a chance with her. He frowned at his reflection. He was no prize. No fine lady wanted a man who made a living with his gun. He was a loner; being alone was what he knew. It was safer.
She sure was nice, though. Peace filled him as he remembered their talk. He’d never known the simple pleasure of sitting and talking with a lady. It surprised him how much he liked listening to her and seeing more of who she was. She had been able to tease out pieces of his life story, too, something he never told anyone.
“Mr. Rafe?” Holly padded in with her corncob doll cradled in the crook of her arm. “Did you find her yet?”
He steeled up all the weakened places so that not a single feeling leaked out. “Remember what I told you?”
“I know.” She sighed, running a finger down the handkerchief she’d borrowed to wrap like a dress around the dried corncob. She fussed with the fabric as if she carried a precious china doll. “I gotta wait. You can find her, right?”
“I’m doing my best, Holly. You have to trust me.”
“But what if she ain’t here? What if she died?” She hugged her doll gently, the way a good mother would. A tear dripped onto the doll’s dress. “If she’s dead, you ain’t gonna find her.”
“She’s not dead.” He felt like a donkey’s behind. “I don’t want you worrying.”
“Then why haven’t you found her?”
“I’m working on it. You leave it to me. I’m good at what I do, I promise you that.” He wanted to tell Holly that her ma had been the woman who’d waited on her today, but how could he? He guessed Cora had been brutally taken advantage of in her past. How would she take this news? Some women were forever broken by a terrible crime like that. He figured others found a way to bury the memory and piece their lives together the best they could, which was sort of how he had managed to move on from the war.
Cora had made a nice life for herself in this town. That told him she was a strong woman. But strong enough to face the child she’d worked so hard to forget? The one irrefutable remind
er of a crime? He didn’t know the answer to that.
“Mr. Rafe? I like all my new things. Miss Cora was awful nice to me.” Holly kept hugging her doll, looking small and uncertain and alone.
He surely knew how that felt. Seeing her reminded him of being a boy, aching for a mother’s love and a father’s attention and knowing it could never be. Not even when he had been with the Tildens. They had been kind to him, but it wasn’t the same. They knew they were always going to send him on and there was no attachment, no caring. Loneliness gnawed at him like a hungry wolf. He shook his head, annoyed at himself. What had happened to his self-control? Wasn’t he going to stay detached? Uninvolved?
“I’m glad you’re happy, Holly.” He cleared his throat, doing his best to sound curt. “We want you to look nice when you meet your ma.”
“Do you reckon she’ll like me?”
He did his best, but those big blue eyes did him in. He wasn’t man enough to fight it, not anymore. He cared about the girl. He cared what happened to her more than he should. More than what was smart.
“I reckon she will.” He remembered the image of Cora showing a green dress to Holly—he’d been keeping watch from the shop across the street. He cleared his throat, uneasy with the feelings stirring within him. He had no business caring about someone else. It wasn’t as if he knew anything about being a father. “Go to bed. It’s late.”
“Yessir!” She scampered off, clutching her doll, leaving him alone in his room. She’d left the door half-open, and he could see her kneeling at the foot of her bed. He had never met anyone so full of prayers.
He hoped God really could hear the lonely wishes of an orphan. Because he hoped that Cora would want her child now that time had passed and she’d had a chance to heal. That was the outcome he sure hoped for, the happy ending he would pray for, if he could.
If only he could get rid of the tight feeling dead center in his chest and the punch of alarm in his gut. He feared trouble was ahead and he could do nothing to stop it. Not one blessed thing.
Chapter Six
Rafe Jones. He was all Cora could think about even two days later. As she sat in church waiting for him and Holly to arrive, her thoughts were still on him as they had been every moment since they had last parted. Yesterday throughout her workday, her gaze had gone to the front windows to keep watch for a certain dark-coated stranger. Every stitch she made on one of Holly’s dresses by evening reminded her of sitting in her back room, listening to him speak. She could hear the deep rich timbre of his voice and his heart in his words.
This morning had been no different. She shifted on the church pew to get a better look at the open door. Cold wind and meager sunshine poured in as the faithful shivered into the vestibule and down the main aisle.
“Miss Sims.” Rhett Jorgenson tipped his hat and stopped, a surprise since he had always kept a deliberate distance between them. He towered over her, dashing as always, but now his handsome forehead was pinched and his rugged good looks darkened. “I need to know about that bounty hunter I saw hanging around your store. He’s not giving you any trouble?”
“Goodness, no.” Not to be rude, but she glanced at the back again. She did not want to miss Rafe and Holly. “I’m sewing a new wardrobe for Mr. Jones’s young ward.”
“Oh, so he’s a customer.”
How strange. Mr. Jorgenson had never been curious about her customers before. “If he’s in need of new boots, I’ll be sure to recommend you.”
“I appreciate that.” The merchant hesitated. Strange how he stood there, seeming uncertain. Uncertain was not Rhett Jorgenson’s style. “I heard you were robbed. Are you sure it has nothing to do with this rough? He’s a gunman, the best in the territory, according to Dobbs. Those types of men are untrustworthy. You’re a God-fearing woman. You don’t understand the way the world works.”
“Oh, I understand just fine.” For all the bachelor’s good looks, Cora saw something else now. She did not find him interesting in the least. “Good day to you.”
A familiar family crowded into the sanctuary. Joanna McKaslin, her husband and their two children. Her friend spotted her and gave a friendly wave before following her husband to their usual pew near the back.
“Cora?” A woman’s voice had her whipping around. Lu Evans, who owned the town bakery, had crept down the aisle in front and was peering at her over the back of the bench. “Do you know what I have been hearing?”
“That my special Christmas rates at the shop are extended until Christmas Eve?”
“Oh, you stop teasing,” Lu said with mirth. “You know good and well what I am talking about. A certain rugged bounty hunter dined with you with the other night. And he has been spotted at your shop a couple of times.”
“I’m pleading the Fifth.”
“That says it all, honey. I’ll keep hoping. Love can come into a woman’s life at any time. I met my Harvey when I was thirty-one. Now we’re an old married couple with our children grown and gone. There’s no reason that can’t happen to you.”
Those were exactly the words she had been too afraid to think. So much could go wrong on this perilous journey from meeting to courting to marriage. Romance had never worked for her. Men had never seen her as more than passable. Until Rafe. When he spoke to her, it was as if the entire world melted away. When he listened to her, he seemed to pay attention with his entire being. His caring regard made her soul sparkle like a candlelit Christmas tree.
Suddenly a silence swept through the sanctuary. She twisted in her seat, her eyes meeting his instantly. He stood several inches above all the other men. He looked rugged, yes, but tame. As they shared a long-distance smile, joy came to her heart.
The child at his side waved and hauled him through the crowd and down the aisle. She was adorable in the green wool dress and matching bonnet. In his usual black, Rafe seemed to draw all the attention as he stalked down the aisle. With every step closer, the sugar-cookie warmth of the connection they had shared returned and grew stronger.
“I’m so glad you’ve come.” Cora slid down the pew to make room for them. “Holly, you look very pretty.”
“You ain’t just sayin’ that?”
“Not even a little bit.”
Surprise and disbelief marked the girl’s face. “Pa used to say that, but…” She fell silent and let out a wobbly breath as if some things were too painful to say aloud. “I love the dress sooo much. Thank you, Miss Cora.”
“My pleasure, dear girl.” She couldn’t help the tug of affection for the orphan. Her twin braids were far from even. Clearly someone with no experience had plaited her hair. There was time to fix that before the service began. Lu had not started playing the organ to welcome the worshipers yet. “Would you like me to rebraid your hair?”
“Oh, yes!” Holly clasped her hands together, giving a glimpse of her bright spirit.
“That’s kind of you, Cora.” Rafe shrugged sheepishly. “Braiding isn’t one of my strong suits.”
“You did fairly well for a bounty hunter.” She dug inside her reticule for her comb.
Feeling his gaze, she turned her attention to the work of untying Holly’s braids, but she could not stop her awareness of him. He radiated quiet dignity. It was impossible not to admire him.
“I hope you don’t feel too uncomfortable here. You mentioned you were not a churchgoing man.”
“I’m not. There’s never been anything in my life that would make me want to believe.” His jaw muscles went tight and he shrugged out of his overcoat. He watched her work, his emotions unreadable. “I stopped by the sheriff’s office. The lowlife I caught with your reticule is named Sol Krantz. He’s locked up, trying to make bail.”
“That’s good. I feel better knowing he’s behind bars.” She quickly parted and separated fine strands of hair and began plaiting. Rafe’s expression sharpened like a dagger.
“Did Krantz threaten you?” His growl was low and dangerous, but she was not afraid.
He was a protectiv
e man, that was all. There was nothing dangerous about Rafe Jones. Aware of the child listening, she kept her voice light. “He cautioned me. It’s nothing to fret about.”
“I say it is. If he talks to you, I want to know about it.”
Did he have any notion how wonderful his words sounded to her? She was used to being alone. For a decade she had managed her own business, owned her own home and been the sole provider and parent for her two nephews. Every problem, every shortfall and every hardship over those years she had shouldered on her own. For the first time in her adult life, she was not alone.
She tied a ribbon onto the end of the first braid and started another. The organ began to play an aching rendition of “Amazing Grace.” The gentle notes rose above the rustling of fidgety children and subdued conversations. “How is the search for Holly’s mother going?”
“Well.” That was it, just one word. That was all he was going to reveal.
She peered through her lashes at him while she worked the second braid. He watched her as if he admired what he saw.
He could be the one. He could be the man for her. The one who would change her life with his love. The one who would hold her close, the man she could trust with all her heart and soul. As she tied off the braid and fussed with the ribbon, she considered what little she knew about him. He was a mystery. What she did know about him broke her heart. He had been an orphan. He’d served in the war. He was a man without home or anyone to care about him. He was a bounty hunter who had let an orphaned girl hire him for a few pennies. Didn’t that say something remarkable about him? Perhaps that was all she really needed to know.
The hymn’s melody reminded her that everyone was lost, that everyone was given a second chance. Maybe the man all in black, who had no reason to believe in anything, had been brought here for a reason.
“Miss Cora?” Holly scooted into place against the pew’s back. “Thank you lots. I sure like my hair. You tie a real good bow. This was my pa’s favorite song.”
“It’s one of mine, too.” She smiled over the girl’s head at the solemn man, sitting so still and shadowed. Tenderness sifted through her. She adored him. This was no fantasy, no wishful thinking or dream. The affection she felt for him—from him—was as real as the stone floor beneath her feet.