by Jillian Hart
“To be so hungry your stomach feels ready to gnaw its way out?” He nodded, hating to remember those tough times.
Her curls bobbed as she nodded her head. Yes, she knew exactly what he meant. He was afraid of that. He blew out a breath, hating she’d known that existence. Considering the worn and patched state of her clothes, maybe she was still living it.
“I pray those times are behind you.” He pitched his voice to be heard above the approaching rattle of a teamster’s wagon. “I’m glad you found Tom. Life has to get better from here, right?”
“That’s the idea.” Snow breezed between them, as if to divide them. As if heaven were reminding him she was not his to care about. “Do you know Tom Rutger?”
“No, sorry. Moved here in September.” The sidewalk came to an intersection and he stopped. Christmas was in the air. Somewhere, perhaps a street or two over, bells chimed. Sounded like Reverend Hadly was out collecting coins for the orphanage again.
“So, you’re new to town, too.” The storm swirled around them with sudden vengeance, veiling the horses pulling vehicles down the street. The shops on the other side were merely glimpses of shape and color before the snowstorm swallowed them. “Where did you move here from?”
“Helena. I was headquartered there. When the office opened here, I jumped at the chance.”
“You always wanted to live in Angel Falls?”
“No, I was looking for a change. My pa passed away a few years back. Thought it might be a good time to start somewhere new.”
“I’m glad you did, or we never would have met.” Her smile could make him forget to breathe. Unaware, she brushed snowflakes out of her eyes. She peered up at him, her face rosy from the cold, asking a deeper question. “Did your pa find a job in Helena? Is that when you were able to find a home?”
Strange how two very different people—she, a little dainty thing and he a tough, lone-wolf of a lawman understood one another. She truly understood what a home meant. “My father finally landed a steady job working on a big farm overseeing the wheat fields just out of town. He only worked nine months out of the year and things were lean, but it was just the two of us. It was the turning point for us.”
“Just the two of you? What happened to your mother?”
“She passed away when I was eleven.” Those were times he didn’t talk about. He didn’t explain there had been no money for a doctor, and the wagon had proved too cold a shelter in winter.
But Christina seemed to know that without him having to say so. Understanding shone in her eyes. “I’m so grateful you had your pa.”
“We got through it together.” He swallowed hard, grateful not to have to explain further. Strange how she could understand him like that. “The hotel is across the street. We’ll get you checked in and I’ll leave a note for Rutger at the train depot, so he knows where to find you, even though it’s the only hotel in town.”
“Thank you, Elijah.” His name rolled off her tongue like a hymn, sweet and reverent, and the sound filled him up. He admired whoever Tom Rutger was for his choice in a bride. A smart man—one not pining after another’s intended—ought to get moving and stop wishing. He took her elbow to help her across the street but a horse’s shrill whinny of alarm stopped him.
He couldn’t see much through the curtain of snow. Harnesses jangled. A lady screamed.
“Whoa!” a man called out as shadowy wagons skidded to a stop. Horses reared in alarm and a load of lumber crashed to the ground.
Elijah was running before he’d even realized he’d stepped off the boardwalk. His gaze riveted to a small form lying motionless in the middle of the chaos.
“He came out of nowhere, Marshal.” The teamster jumped down from his wagon. Panic-stricken, the man dropped to his knees beside the still body. “He’s just a little tyke. He ran in front of my horses. Couldn’t stop ’em in time.”
“Are you okay, boy?” Elijah brushed the muddy snow from the mired street off the boy’s face. Lashes blinked up at him as the child tried to stir, but he slipped back into unconsciousness. Just a little guy, maybe eight years old. Somebody’s son, somebody’s loved one. He laid a hand on the boy’s chest, relieved at the steady heartbeat.
“He’s still breathing.” Christina knelt beside him with a swish of her skirts. Distress wreathed her lovely face. She ran tender fingers across the child’s forehead. “He has quite a bruise already, and a lump.”
“My horse done it.” The teamster’s face twisted, torn up. “Must have hit him with a hoof when he reared up in surprise. Will he be all right?”
“Head injuries can be dangerous,” Christina said, taking the end of her scarf and gently swiping the boy’s face with her good hand. The child moaned, stirring again. “That’s a good sign. How are you feeling, sweetheart?”
The boy’s eyelids fluttered, but he didn’t open them. Small, scrawny, scared, he was a ragamuffin who could use a good meal. Poor kid.
“Anyone know who he is?” Elijah asked.
“I don’t, sorry, Marshal.” The teamster shook his head.
“Never seen ’im before.” Les from the lumberyard ambled over. “I saw the whole thing. The boy ran out of the mercantile like a rabbit being chased by a coyote. Didn’t even stop to look for traffic.”
“He darted into the road,” agreed elderly Mrs. Thompson from inside her covered carriage. “I don’t recognize him, and I know everybody in this town.”
“Thanks, ma’am.” He scooped up the boy carefully, cradling him in his arms. “Anyone else hurt?”
“Nope.” The teamster’s concern remained carved on his rugged face. “I’ll check in with your office later. See how the boy’s doing.”
“I’d appreciate that.” The weight of the boy in his arms reminded him of his new mission. The doc’s office wasn’t far. He turned to the woman at his side. “I guess this is where our paths part again.”
“You’re wrong about that.” Her chin hiked up as she gripped her satchel’s handle with her good hand and accompanied him around the maze of stopped vehicles. “I want to help you with that little boy.”
“But what about your intended?” He stepped onto the boardwalk. “You might miss him.”
“Tom and I will find each other. I believe that is God’s will for us.” It felt easy to think so in this small, cozy town graced with white. She loved the way snow made everything fresh and new. This is what she hoped to make of her life, to recover it and start again. Thanks to Tom, she had the chance to belong and find a real home, to have a husband and one day a family. Helping the wounded boy felt like her first act in this new life. Do the right thing, her adoptive mother used to say, and it will always work out right in the end. “Right now, this boy needs us.”
“He does.” Elijah led the way down the opposing street, walking with quick certainty. Masculinity radiated from him with quiet assuredness.
He seemed like a man comfortable with who he was, a man sure of what he stood for. Soft feelings rose within her, but that was only natural. It was impossible not to admire a man cradling an injured boy in his arms, keeping the child tucked safely to his chest for warmth.
Yes, simply a little admiration, that’s all, she told herself, praying Tom would be like Elijah—good, decent, strong and caring. A man who would cradle their children in his arms one day.
“What is a child that age doing running around on his own?” she asked as they hurried down the boardwalk. “Why didn’t his parents come running?”
“Good question. Maybe they are busy in one of the shops.” He nodded in recognition of a man in a dark coat riding a fast-moving horse in the direction of the wagon accident. A star glinted on his chest. “There’s the sheriff. He’d spot anyone searching for a missing child here in town and send them on to the clinic.”
“Oh, the boy’s waking up.” Christina leaned in closer with her soft lavender fragrance and sweetness. Her gleaming hair held highlights of cinnamon in the late day’s light. As the brim of her blue hat brushed h
is jaw, places long dark in his heart brightened.
He didn’t feel the weight of the boy or the cold of the wind or hear the clatter and chaos echoing down the street. All he could see was her. The cute slope of her nose, the big wide blue eyes focused on the child in his arms and her caring expression burnished her, making her more incredible than anything in their snowy surroundings.
“Hello, there.” She smiled into unfocused, blinking eyes. “Do you remember what happened?”
The boy groaned in pain and rolled against Elijah’s chest, burrowing closer as if to his parent. Perhaps the boy was confused. Not surprising he would be after being hit like that. Elijah ignored a stab of longing. The promise of a son had died with his fiancée long ago.
“What is your name?” she asked gently, not wanting to startle the child.
No answer. The boy took one look at her and hid his face against Elijah’s jacket.
“That’s quite a lump you have on your head.” Her gentle attempt to talk to the boy garnered nothing. The child didn’t move.
Was he crying? Or just trembling from the cold? Elijah couldn’t tell. He glanced down the street, half expecting to see a worried mother dashing down the boardwalk after him. Nothing.
“Guess he doesn’t want to talk to us,” Elijah quipped. “Must be a good sign?”
“Must be. Does your head hurt?” she persisted.
Nothing. The boy was probably just scared, Elijah thought.
“You’ll be all right,” he reassured him. “We’ll get you looked at. Doc Frost’s a nice doctor. He’s got two girls about your age.”
Still no response. The boy wasn’t bleeding and he didn’t seem badly hurt. All good things in his favor.
As Elijah glanced over his shoulder one more time, he spotted something else beyond the crowd of onlookers. A man strode across the street coming from the direction of the train depot. His jaw set, his posture stiff, his quick steps angrily stalking toward the hotel.
Tom Rutger? He winced, not wanting it to be so. The foreboding lodged in his chest told him otherwise. Christina’s groom had come to claim her. The man stalked into the hotel and disappeared, but likely he’d reemerge in a minute or so. That was all the time he had left with Christina.
“Maybe this is where we go our separate ways.” He stopped in front of the clinic door. “Go on back to the hotel.”
“But I want to stay until his parents come.” Torn, she set down her satchel and ran her fingertips across the boy’s head. The child wouldn’t look at either of them, stiff with tension.
“He needs a doctor now.” He clutched the child to him, taking a step back. “I can manage it from here.”
“But I feel as if I should do more.”
“I know, but the child is my duty now. Look, your Tom is coming.”
“You’ll let me know what happens, right? I’ll be at the hotel. You could drop by and tell me his parents found him.” She scooped up her satchel. “I want to make sure his story gets a happy ending, too.”
A happy ending sounded nice, but stopping by to see her? Not a good idea. He opened the door instead of answering her. He would make no promises he didn’t intend to keep. Heat from the potbellied stove inside the clinic washed over him, but he shivered as if with cold. Probably it had to do with the brawny, blond-headed man storming up the boardwalk behind Christina. Dark eyes bored into his. No way to miss the clear message of possession.
“Thanks for your assistance, Miss Eberlee.” Elijah nodded in farewell, reined in his feelings and stepped into the clinic. The boy sniffed against his chest, clinging hard. Probably worried about what his ma would say once she caught up to him. “Goodbye.”
“Goodbye.” The last daylight vanished, the colors and light of the world bled away and stole his last view of her. The brightness in his heart turned to black as he let the door swoosh shut behind him and handed the boy over to the doc.
Chapter Three
“Christina?” The voice behind her rumbled in a cool tenor. “Brown coat, blue hat, green mittens. Carrying a black satchel with a red handle. Just like your letter promised.”
“Tom.” Breathless, she spun to face him. Anticipation pounded through her like merry jingle bells. This was her husband-to-be. The man she would spend the rest of her days with, the man who would be her everything.
The last dregs of twilight made it hard to see him. He stood before her in shadow. His beefy shoulders spoke of strength and capability. The outline of his Stetson hinted at a hardworking man who spent his time in the Montana sun.
“It’s so nice to meet you,” she breathed, charmed when he swept her satchel from the boardwalk for her. “I had meant to wait at the depot for you, but the marshal said it would be cold and dark, as there were no more trains expected.”
“I was a mite disappointed to find no one there.” He had a pleasant voice with a vulnerable sound to it, as if he harbored great feeling deep beneath his rough exterior.
A wedge of lamplight reflected when a shop’s door opened, giving her a brief glimpse of his jawline—hairless. At least she didn’t have to worry about a foot-long beard. Definitely a good sign.
“I was on my way to the hotel when a boy was struck by a startled horse,” she explained.
“I figured the hotel might be where you was headed.” Instead of backtracking, Tom stepped toward her and kept on going. “Sorry to say, you won’t be stayin’ there. I got ya a place at the boardinghouse.”
“Oh, I didn’t know.” She stopped herself from wondering about Elijah. It was the boy who troubled her, who’d burrowed into the marshal’s coat like a baby bunny caught in a snare. He’d looked trapped, defeated. Determined to check on him as soon as she could, she tucked her aching arm against her side and followed Tom down the snowy boardwalk. “You and I didn’t have much time to exchange letters, with your proposal and train ticket arriving the way it did.”
“I didn’t dare risk waiting too long. I knew a lady like you had options. I didn’t want to lose out, not again.” Sadness ticked across his shadowed face and weighed down his voice.
“What do you mean, again?”
“I’ve been lookin’ for a wife for some time. In fact, you’re the third lady I’ve proposed to this year.” He offered his gloved hand to help her off the boardwalk and onto the street.
Her heart didn’t leap at their first touch. Her soul didn’t whisper to her, he’s the one, as she’d hoped. But she also knew it would be improbable that she and Tom would be a match at first. Love took time and nurturing. But she wanted to love him. It was enough that he stayed beside her, protecting her from the brunt of the wind the way a true gentleman would.
“I took too much time thinking things over with those other ladies,” he explained. “By the time I got around to writing, first one and then the other had already been claimed. With you I wrote right away. You were too much to miss out on.”
That touched her. Her heart gave a little sigh. She wanted to be wanted. She wanted to matter to someone. She held tightly to his hand as she swept up onto the boardwalk. Light spilled over them, showing him fully for the first time.
Rustic. His fur coat made him look like a bear. His wide-brimmed hat hid most of his round face. He’d never be called handsome with his rather large nose and prominent chin, but his eyes were a friendly hazel and his muscular shoulders gave him a strong and dependable air. Looks weren’t what mattered. Neither did riches. It was the man within that counted.
“This ain’t the best place in town, but it’s what I can afford.” Tom shrugged in apology. “It’s safe and warm, and I talked to the manager, who promised to make you welcome.”
“Thank you, Tom.” His thoughtfulness did more to reassure her than anything could. Snow brushed her cheek as she stepped past the door he held open for her. She caught a glimpse of denim trousers and boots as she swept into the light and warmth. “You’ve done so much for me. Sending me a train ticket, offering me your home and your love. I hope we can be happy toge
ther.”
“You’ll make me very happy indeed.” He looked her up and down. Something glittered in his gaze, something she didn’t understand, but it was gone before she could analyze it.
Perhaps it was simply the reflection of the lamplight in his eyes, she decided. He stood, perfectly valiant, swept off his hat and self-consciously ran his fingers through his dark blond hair. She felt self-conscious, too, worrying he would be disappointed in her, perhaps wishing she was prettier and trying to ignore the niggle of what felt like doubt in the pit of her stomach.
That’s not a sign, she told herself. Anyone would feel trepidation meeting the stranger she’d agreed to marry. She’d prayed hard on this. Hadn’t she felt peace in her soul after discussing this with God? And it wasn’t as if she had a better choice. She’d answered twenty advertisements men had placed looking for wives in the Hearts and Hands magazine. Tom had been the one to answer her with a proposal and a train ticket. To a homeless woman, he’d been an answered prayer.
That’s what he still was. The answer to her prayers. She watched as he spoke respectfully with the middle-aged woman behind the front desk. He unbuttoned his coat, showing a wedge of flannel shirt and red suspenders. Her husband-to-be was apparently a farmer, which would make her a farmer’s wife. She knew nothing about farming, but she vowed to work hard. She would do her best cooking for him and keeping house. She’d learn about chickens and pigs or whatever she needed to because this man was going to be her everything. This man had promised to give her a home, his home, for Christmas.
“Mildred will get you settled.” Tom thrust out the battered satchel. “I’ll come by tomorrow right after lunch. Say, one o’clock?”
“I’ll be ready.” Christina took her satchel and tried to ignore the hollow feeling settling into the pit of her stomach. “I’m looking forward to it. I can’t wait to see your farm.”
“Can’t wait to show it to you.” Tom gave a bashful smile. “Good evening, Christina.”