by Jillian Hart
“And so you were trying to get to know me.” All of his questions. All of their quite personal conversations. Understanding hammered through her. He had not been interested in her romantically. He had not been falling in love with her. Of course not. He would never be captivated by a plain brown bird like her. What had she been thinking?
Disappointment struck like a blow. Reeling from the impact, she tore her hands from his and bounded out of her chair. With every breath she took, she could feel her heart breaking. How had she let herself believe? All these years no man had ever been swept away by her. How could she have been so foolish?
“Cora.” No man could be more compassionate. He ambled toward her. “I know this comes as a surprise to you. I had to look out for Holly’s welfare. She hired me to.”
“With three pennies.” That made him perfect in her estimation. She swiped at her eyes, hating the tears that blurred her view of him and betrayed her emotions. She blinked hard, willing her vision to clear. Any moment, he would guess at her misplaced love for him. How pathetic she was going to look when he realized that she thought he was about to proclaim his intentions for marriage.
Pain crackled like winter lightning through her. He was talking, and she tried to calm her emotions to hear what he was saying. Something about how sorry he was for what happened to her. It was the agony on his face that shocked her the most. He was a good, caring man, which was what had confused her. Here he was concerned about a violent crime against her that had never happened. He was anguished by the thought of her having been harmed.
It was time to spare them both more agony. She wiped the tears from her cheeks and dug deep for the right words. “Rafe, you have mistaken me for someone else.”
“No, I am very sure. I telegraphed every major town in the territory. You are the only Cora Sims. There is no other.”
“Yes, but I have never had a child.” Looking at his sincere confusion only made her heart break even more. She loved this man. She feared she always would. Drawing in a shaky breath, she faced him. Let him look in her eyes and see the truth. “I’m truly not Holly’s mother.”
“But she has your sewing kit, Cora. You admitted it was yours.”
“Once, long ago, yes.”
“Then I’m asking you to accept Holly.” He rubbed away more tears on her cheeks with the pads of his thumbs.
Those stubborn tears. She blinked harder, but more of them fell. She didn’t know if she was crying for Holly or for herself. “My sewing kit was sold along with everything of value after my father died. I haven’t seen this since I was eleven.”
“But—” he finally seemed to be hearing her “—if you didn’t leave it with her as a baby, then…”
“I don’t know. Somehow it must have found its way to Holly’s family.” She longed for him to take her hands in his again and to feel his solid comfort. Pain twisted through her for Holly, for him and for the love she would never have. “I’ve never had a child and no tragic attack that could have given me one. I’m sorry, Rafe.”
“Then you’re not her ma.” Devastation carved into his features.
“No, although I wish I was.” She watched the girl outside, gaining confidence on the swing and gliding higher. Snow fell like pieces of dreams. The wind gusted again, signaling the coming storm. The girl had to be getting cold, and yet she looked happy as she swung toward the sky and fell back to earth again. “What will become of her now?”
“Don’t know.” His voice was strained and uneven, gruff, not with anger but defeat. “I thought for sure—” He didn’t finish, staring, instead, out the window at the child who played innocently unaware that she had lost her only real hope for a mother and for a home. “I don’t have any other leads. There simply are none.”
“If there is something I can do, some way I can help you search, I would be happy to. I’m excellent at writing letters.”
“You have to understand, Cora, there is no one. The orphanage she’d been with had a fire and the records were lost. Holly’s pa moved to Montana Territory from back East, but no one knew where. You were Holly’s last chance.”
“Her last chance? Me?” Rafe saw tears silver her eyes. “That’s breaking me.”
“Me, too.” His jaw worked. It was tough keeping so much dammed up inside. He couldn’t believe it. He was good at his job. He had a knack for following leads and hunting down impossible cases. Never had he been so wrong. He grabbed the case from the table, turning it over in his hands. He had been so sure. “What am I going to do? What is she going to do?”
“You aren’t going to take her back to an orphanage, are you?”
Outside, the little girl noticed they were looking her way and smiled widely. She was a different girl from the one who had come up to him on that Helena street. Gone were the patched hand-me-downs and the hungry eyes, replaced by a healthy complexion and hope. How was he going to take that away? He hid the case in his pocket, safely out of sight. “What choice do I have?”
“I don’t know. How hard is it to find a good home for a child?”
“Nearly impossible is my guess.” Why else would there be so many unwanted orphans? He knew that for a fact. “I can’t believe this. I failed her.”
The only one who had ever relied on him, and he’d failed her. Defeat became too big to describe. It suffocated him with a mix of regret and self-recrimination. He couldn’t bear the thought of what he had done.
“She doesn’t know?” Cora’s question was tremulous, as if she felt crushed, too.
“No. She can’t read. She doesn’t know a single letter. She’s kept that case all this time. Either no one read the name for her or no one knew about it. She says her pa bought it for her ma.” Second-or thirdhand. He hadn’t considered that before. It wasn’t like him not to consider every angle. Maybe there was a bigger truth at work. Something beyond his need to find a mother for Holly. The first time he had spotted Cora Sims closing up her dress shop, rational thought had fled his mind, leaving insanity in its place.
Insane. Yep, that sounded about right. Because he had to be insane to start imagining life in a town like this, in a house like this, with a woman like Cora. He didn’t belong here or anywhere. He was as homeless as Holly and twice as unwanted.
Best to face that fact and not let it bother him. Feelings did no good for a man like him. “There is a small blessing in all this. I’m glad nothing bad happened to you, Cora.”
“Rafe, I—” She stopped.
That got him to wondering what she’d been about to say. Something bonded them, he couldn’t deny that. He would give anything for that bond to turn into more.
The door banged open and Holly came in, dappled with snow, her cheeks rosy with happiness. She looked as if she belonged in this tidy kitchen with the lace curtains and ruffled chair cushions. It about shattered him to think she wouldn’t be growing up in this safe home with cake on a plate on the counter and Cora as her ma. That was the life this nice girl deserved, not the one she had waiting for her.
He thought of that Beams woman and shivered. Holly was not going back there. That left an orphanage or someone looking for a child to take for work exchange. The thought of her laboring on a farm somewhere for food in her belly—no. Fierce anger thundered through him. It wasn’t going to happen. What was the alternative? Was there one? It wasn’t as if he could keep her, hauling her with him as he tracked down dangerous men.
“I’m frozen up like an icicle.” Holly trudged deeper into the kitchen. Snow tracked behind her, marring the polished floor.
Cora didn’t react, not to the snow, anyway. That didn’t surprise him, but it did strengthen his resolve. She was the kindest woman he had ever known. He more than liked her. He adored her. Somehow he was going to have to face that.
“Come right here and stand in front of the stove.” Loving goodness, that was Cora. He saw her more clearly than ever as she guided the child by the shoulders. “I’ll get you a cookie to nibble on while you warm up.”
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sp; “Thank you, Miss Cora.” Holly beamed up at the woman in sheer adoration.
“We had best take that cookie with us, kid,” he said. “We’ve got to get back to the hotel.”
“We do? Can’t we stay here longer, Mr. Rafe? I like it here.” There was a bigger question in the girl’s eyes, one of bare hope. He feared she knew why they had been spending so much time with Cora, and that was why her lower lip wobbled.
He hadn’t been so smart, after all. He felt like dirt. No, he felt lower than dirt. He grabbed his coat, fighting a strange lump in his throat. “We’d best go, Holly. Cora, thanks for having us to dinner.”
“It was my pleasure.” Tears stood in her eyes, in her luminous eyes full of love.
He had never beheld a greater beauty. No one had ever looked at him that way. In a blink, that honesty had faded, but the feelings remained. How could one look jolt him like an earthquake? How could one fine woman feel that for him? His boots became steel, too heavy to lift. Maybe the truth was tougher. He didn’t want to walk away. He wished to heaven today had gone differently. That Holly would have had a ma to love her and he would have—
No, there was no point in wishing. He shrugged into his coat, fighting to keep emotion from his voice, but that lump remained in his throat, betraying him. “Let’s get going, Holly.”
“Yes, sir.”
Cora watched him with tears in her eyes, unshed and aching with pain.
Yep, he thought as he closed the door. He felt the same way. There was no happy ending here. He led the way through the snow falling like those wintry pieces of his heart.
Chapter Eight
They had left, the big man and the small girl who had stolen her heart, walking down the pathway side by side. Cora dropped onto the window seat, hollow, shivering despite the roaring fire in the stove. Iciness crept in through the glass, seeping into her very soul. Hot, unfallen tears pooled, making the vision of the man and child blur. They were her dream, gone forever now. Rafe had never loved her. And Holly, that poor girl. What would become of her?
She swiped at her face, hating that her fingers came away wet. She was not crying for herself. Her heart was destroyed, but she had done it to herself. That was what came when a woman like her set her hopes too high. They were bound to be dashed. She knew better. What made sobs tear out of her was the thought of a child alone, completely, without a safe home and the chance to go to school. Books lined the shelf next to the door, packed with wonderful stories. Holly would never know the pleasure of being carried away to Dickens’s England or meeting Austen’s Bennet sisters or Brontë’s haunting moors.
She would never play with friends in her yard, go sledding down the street or run screaming over a game of tag. She would never know the security of having a mother’s love, someone to braid her hair and sew pretty dresses and help soothe her childhood dilemmas with cookies and kindness.
Cora leaned her forehead against the glass, miserable for the lost child. Holly was nothing more than a gray shadow now, veiled by snowfall, trudging away with her hand tucked in Rafe’s. Her head was bowed forward, as if she was crying. The man and child took another step and the haze of snow enveloped them, stealing them forever from her sight.
Please watch over them, Lord. I know You have a plan, but it is hard to see.
She had never felt so bleak. A knock on the back door rang like a gunshot through the silent house. She started, then pushed away from the glass with the wild hope that Rafe and Holly had come back. She was halfway to the kitchen when she realized that of course they hadn’t, and certainly not to the back door. Emmett strode in, key in hand, flecked with snow and grinning ear to ear.
“I was hopin’ you would feed me.” He was un-ashamed of his shameless self-invitation, bless him.
“The stew is still warm and I have cake.” She blinked away the last of her tears, glad none were on her face, and forced what she hoped would pass for a smile. “Let me take your coat. You are a welcome sight, dear boy.”
“You are, too.” He shrugged out of his jacket and unwound the scarf from his neck. She had made both for him. How handsome he looked, so strapping and grown up as he kissed her cheek. “I got to missing you.”
“Me? What on earth is there to miss about me?” Although she was pleased as she hung up his things. She scurried to the stove to pour him a bracing cup of tea. “I would have thought you were doing something much more interesting than sitting in your spinster aunt’s kitchen.”
“I’m not courting any young lady in town, so where else would I be?”
Apparently not in the place he rented above the hardware store. She set the tea on the table, determined not to hint about a certain young lady in town he might want to get to know. He might not admit he was interested, but Cora knew her nephew. Down deep he was bashful. He took time getting to know people. As she dished up a bowl of stew, she remembered the timid boy who had climbed off the stagecoach, leading his younger brother. Emmett had been a bit older than Holly, with wide, sad eyes.
“You spoil me, Aunt Cora.” Emmett eagerly took the bowl from her and finished serving himself. “You stop waiting on me, you hear? You’ve done your duty. I’m all grown up.”
“Nonsense. You know how I love to fuss.” That was what she called it, but it was more than that. Taking care of her nephews was a joy and a privilege, and she sorely missed it. “I need to get in all the fussing I can, because soon you will be leading your own life, as you ought to be. So indulge me.”
“All right, but I fully intend to fill your coal boxes and shovel your walk before I leave.” He took his bowl to the table and dug into the stew. “Want to tell me what’s going on with that Jones fellow?”
Pain rasped through her. Refusing to let it show, she drew in a breath, straightened her shoulders and took a sip of tea, now cold. She had forgotten to refill her cup. She was more distraught over Rafe than she cared to admit. She had fallen for a man who had not fallen for her. “He’s bought several dresses for his young ward. I suppose we are acquaintances of sorts. We have some things in common, since I understand how challenging it is to suddenly find yourself raising a child.”
“Oh, I think it’s more than that. A man like Jones doesn’t sit with a lady in church because the two of them are ‘acquaintances.’”
“What do you mean?” She had misinterpreted Rafe’s interest in her. That was a fact. Now that it was proved she was not Holly’s mother, why would she see Rafe for any reason outside of her work?
“I asked around. I wanted to know more about this Mr. Jones.” Emmett stirred sugar into his tea. “One of the deputies said he’s no man to mess with. He’s smart, fair and honest and the best gunman anyone has ever seen in these parts. He always gets his man. He brought in the notorious Clarkston Crow without a scratch, after two marshals and four bounty hunters died in earlier attempts.”
“Goodness.” She remembered the capture of the notorious outlaw. It had been in the newspaper two years ago. Crow had not left anyone alive who could identify him when he robbed banks, trains or stagecoaches. For a good part of that year, she knew many people who had been too afraid to travel out of town. “Mr. Jones is quite an impressive man.”
“I like him. I like the respect he shows you, Aunt Cora.”
“He has been a fine gentleman.” It took all her strength to hide her broken feelings. “He rescued Holly from a sad life. Only a truly decent man would do that.”
Rafe was a lawman in the most demanding way. He was not tucked safely behind a desk, but risked his life to bring in the bad guy. Her estimation of him remained high. Now, if only she could figure out a way to make her heart stop loving him. She took another sip of cold tea, fighting terrible sadness.
“That was mighty good, Aunt Cora.” Emmett set down his spoon with a clatter and shoved back his chair with a loud scrape. Suddenly her home no longer felt so empty and desolate. “Now, where do you want your Christmas tree? You best go clear a place. I’ve got a spruce in my sleigh. I’ll go br
ing it in.”
“You dear boy. Thank you for remembering.” She had momentarily forgotten that Christmas was marching closer. It was the time of year meant to remind us of the power of kindness and the saving grace of love. “This blessed season simply isn’t the same this time without you boys living here with me.”
“You mean dragging in snow on our boots and badgering you about what we’re getting for Christmas and searching the house when you’re not home trying to find the presents you hid?”
“Yes, that’s exactly what I miss. The excitement of having you boys help me decorate cookies and string popcorn. Those were good times. I’m glad I have them to remember.”
“Me, too.” Emmett grabbed her cup and took it to the counter, then took a fresh one from the cupboard. “You know how much Eli and I appreciate your taking us in. I figured out the other day that I’m older now than you were when we landed on your doorstep.”
“It was a big responsibility, but I haven’t regretted it for one moment.”
“You did a lot for us, Aunt Cora.” He poured tea, growing serious. “It was a sacrifice.”
“That’s part of love.” She thought of Rafe and Holly. Had they reached the hotel? Were they packing to leave? Surely they would not leave in a snowstorm. She prayed they would at least say goodbye.
Tears welled in her soul where she hid them, not knowing what else to do. Her heart might be in shreds, but the love she felt for Rafe Jones was whole.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” Emmett set the steaming cup on the table in front of her.
“I will be.” Thank God for the blessing of this boy, for both her nephews.
“Then you sit and relax while I bring in the tree. Eli will be by shortly. We can all decorate the tree together.”
Their walk back to the hotel started out in silence. What was there to say? The snow fell with a vengeance, pummeling them as they went, the wind gusting as if to drive them back to the safety of Cora’s home and back to the illusion that Holly belonged to her.