by Jillian Hart
“I fell and apparently broke it, but don’t worry, the doctor said it should heal just fine,” she finished quickly, buttoning up her coat. “By the end of January, it will be good as new.”
“Doctor?” His jaw snapped tight, and his polite tone was strained. “I didn’t agree to pay for no doctor.”
“I don’t expect you to.” She struggled with her mittens. Tom confused her. Perhaps he still feared she might take advantage of him, and it was true enough there were women in the world who thought nothing of such a thing. He would soon learn she was not one of them. He didn’t open the door for her, so she grasped the knob and pulled. Below-zero temperatures hit her like a punch. “I’ve made arrangements with Dr. Frost to work off what I owe him.”
“By doin’ what exactly?” Hazel eyes turned stone hard.
“By cleaning his office.” Now she was displeased with him. “I’m not that kind of woman, Tom. I would think you could tell simply by looking at me.”
“Sorry.” He flushed red and bowed his head. He appeared to be humbled, except for the strain snapping along his tight jaw. “I just saw you makin’ cozy with that man at your table, and I thought the worst. Shouldna done that.”
“No, and thank you. How about we make a pact?” She realized the only horse and vehicle tied at the hitching post had to be Tom’s, so she swept snow off the sled’s wooden seat with her sleeve before she sat. “Instead of thinking the worst, we’ll think the best of each other. Agreed?”
“Agreed.” Tom shook snow out of a fur robe and handed it to her.
“I’m so glad you are to be my husband, Tom.” She laid her mittened hand over his gloved one, willing her heart to feel. The spark of affection she longed for did not take root. Perhaps that would take time. “I can’t wait for my new life with you to start.”
“Me, either.” The corners of his mouth relaxed. He untied the horse, who flinched when he came near. The horse’s gray flesh rippled and the animal sidestepped.
“Git back here, you old nag.” Tom’s voice held a note of what sounded like affection. “I rescued her from a merchant on the road to Billings not long ago. She was pulling a big heavy wagon all by herself, and it was stuck in a mud bog.”
He paused to sweep snow off his side of the seat and climbed in. “The merchant was beating her something terrible. If you look, you can see the scars on her flanks. Well, the poor thing couldn’t pull that vehicle out of the mud—it would have taken a team of oxen—” He yanked the end of the fur robe over to cover him and snapped the reins. “So I offered the merchant cash for her outright. Twice what she was worth.”
“That was kind of you, Tom.” See, what a good man he was, saving an abused animal, she thought. She eased back against the seat, releasing a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding.
“It took her months to recover from her wounds.” He guided the horse down the street into the low morning sun. Shop fronts whipped by and windows glinted in the sunshine. “She took a lot of care and time, poor thing, but she survived.”
“And now she has a good home. You did good, Tom.”
“Oh, pshaw, it wasn’t much.” He blushed bashfully.
Rather cute, she decided, letting out another held-in breath. He had many good features. A high, intelligent forehead, a straight nose and a boyish smile that gave him a friendly quality, like a man she could feel comfortable with. “What is her name?”
“Maggie. I rescued her just in time, too, because my team died not long after. First one, then the other.” His hands gripped the reins firmly with a capable air. “Old age. I couldn’t stand to sell them when they became too infirm to do the work around the farm. My brother lent me one of his horses until Maggie was strong enough to do the hauling.”
“That must have been a hard loss for you.”
“It was. You get attached to the critters.” Tom shrugged shyly.
“Yes, that’s the way it is with horses.” Snowy townscapes gave way to the crisp, clean shine of mantled prairie rolling ahead of them endlessly. “When Ma and I had to sell our mares, it was like losing part of the family.”
“I know what you mean.” His gaze caught hers and held, and in them she thought she saw the same hopes for a compatible and happy marriage. Perhaps he was lonely, the way she’d been. Perhaps he felt empty the way she did, wanting to spend her life loving someone.
They shared a smile, and she wished her heart would spark. She wanted to love him. She wanted it more than anything.
“That’s our place up ahead.” Tom’s voice broke the spell as he nodded to the left. A small smudge darkened the white spread of prairie. As Maggie drew them nearer with the clip-clop of her steeled shoes on snow, the farm became clearer. First a rise of gray smoke, then the faded red side of a barn and finally the mare pulled them onto a rutted driveway.
For the first look at her new home, Christina scooted forward on the seat, straining to see around the curve of the lane. The barn came into view first, paint peeling, the structure listing to one side. Mud stained the lower boards and trailed to the other shedlike structures behind it. Covered pigpens, she realized, mostly by the smell.
“My brother lives over the rise of that hill.” Tom gestured beyond the pigpens. “See the smoke? His wife is lookin’ forward to havin’ another lady around.” Tom yanked on the reins, drawing Maggie to a sudden stop. “Here we are.”
The garbage in the front yard caught her gaze. A rusted washtub full of fallen snow, used tin cans poked up through the mud, edges jagged. What looked like a burning pit, full of refuse waiting to be burned come spring, sat far too close to the sagging board steps leading to the door. No porch, just an unpainted, weathered shanty with a crooked stovepipe jutting out of a half-sloping roof. Obviously Tom had built only half the shanty, which was often the custom of a new homesteader, intending to add the second half of the home later when times were more prosperous.
Obviously that time had never arrived.
“It ain’t much, but it’s home.” Tom rose from the seat and held out his hand to help her. “It’s your home, now.”
“I’m glad to be here.” She scooted across the seat and planted her feet gingerly in the deep snow. “I talked to the minister.” Tom left the horse standing in the bitter wind and hiked across a random board poking up through the snow. “Reverend Hadly can do the ceremony as quick as this afternoon.”
“That soon?” She hated the wobble in her voice.
“Of course, I understand if that’s a mite too quick.” Tom veered to the right, away from the neglected-looking shanty. “I know you ladies like to have things right. Your dress all pressed and your hair done up. But if you’re thinking you want to invite folks, say that marshal, then I have to put my foot down. It would hurt my feelin’s to have you see him more. I’m sorry about it, but you can understand, right?”
“I—” She blinked, realizing he was taking her to see the barn first. “I had no plans to invite anyone to our wedding.”
“Good. That’s settled, at least.” He slopped through ankle-deep mud and muscled open the barn door. “Maybe tomorrow afternoon would be better. We could say our vows and be home in time for you to feed the pigs.”
“The pigs?” She heard them oinking and rustling in the shadows. She was supposed to feed them?
“I made it clear in my advertisement.” Tom’s voice hardened, or maybe it was just the darkness that made it seem so. Straw crackled beneath his boots as he lit a lantern. “I said I was a farmer. I was looking for a helpmate.”
“I thought that meant keeping house, cooking, tending the garden.” She searched through her mind but the words printed in the magazine hadn’t led her to believe she would be doing heavy barn work.
“Yes, I want you to do all those things and the pigs.” Tom blew out the match and tucked it into the drawer at the base of the lantern. “I was very clear. You aren’t trying to renegotiate with me, are you?”
“No, but I—” Her hopes hit the ground. She didn’t
know what to say. Golden light pooled onto the dirty floor and onto the nearest crudely built pen where too many pigs were crammed in a too-small space. Blunt snouts poked out between the wooden rails to sniff in her direction. Several animals squealed in a high, threatening way at her.
“As you can see, it’s too much work for one man. Since my brother took over his wife’s parents’ place, I’ve been hurtin’.” Tom’s beefy frame ambled closer and his voice gentled. “You coming here is an answer to my prayers.”
“You are an answer to mine, too.” This isn’t as bad as it seems and there’s goodness in everyone, she reminded herself. Maybe Tom was overwhelmed with work, as he said. Maybe he needed a helpmate as much as she needed one and they could clean up this place and all would be well. It was a desperate thought, but it was all she had to cling to. “Maybe we can improve our lives together.”
“I like the sound of that.” Tom smiled and brushed snow from her hair, and the gesture made her pick up her hopes and pray this could work. “Now come along and I’ll show you the shanty.”
* * *
Elijah couldn’t get the image of Christina and her fiancé out of his head. Tom Rutger clearly looked smitten with her as he’d driven away in his home-built sled. Who wouldn’t be? All it took was one look, one smile and men fell like trees at her feet.
At least, that’s what had happened to him. Elijah squinted against the late-morning sun and clomped up onto the boardwalk. He had to stop thinking about her. He had to stop his heart from caring. What he felt wasn’t right. He just needed to exert a little more willpower and these feelings would fade. This was a little crush, that’s all. Nothing serious.
“Good morning, Marshal.” Arthur Lawson looked up from sweeping a light layer of snow off the walk in front of his mercantile. “Can you believe the storm last night?”
“It must be slowing down business. Not many folks are out and about yet.”
“True, and it’s one of my busiest days of the year.” Arthur sent the last of the snow off the edge of the boardwalk, his work done. “Funny thing happened this morning. I opened my front door and found my boardwalk shoveled clean, like it had been done in the wee hours, with just this fine layer of snow drifted on the walk. Isn’t that something? Someone did a kind deed. Now, what can I do for you? Have you finished your Christmas shopping?”
“In a way.” He had no family to buy for. Other than the Christmas Eve church service, it was a holiday he spent alone. “Mind if I ask you a few questions?”
“Not at all. Come on in out of the cold.” The man opened the door and leaned his shovel against the wall. “Would you like some coffee?”
“No, thanks.” Elijah yanked off his gloves and held his hands out to the potbellied stove, puffing heat into the roomy store filled with tidy shelves and product displays. “Did you happen to see yesterday’s accident?”
“No, I was busy with customers, but I heard all about it.” Arthur shoved a lock of salt-and-pepper hair out of his eyes and poured a cup of coffee from the pot on the stove. “Caused quite a ruckus, and near to suppertime, too. I’ve never seen the street backed up like that. Heard a boy was injured. Any news on him?”
“The doc said he’ll be okay. Before the accident, Les from the lumberyard saw the boy running out of this store like a bullet. Did you notice him in your store?”
“Well, I noticed a boy. Guess I didn’t realize it was the same one.” Arthur took a sip of the steaming brew. “Little guy, say around eight or so, scrawny, ragged looking. Eyes were big as saucers when he was looking at all the foodstuffs.”
“That would be the right kid.” Hard to forget how fast Toby had put away an entire plate of food.
“I saw him take a handful of jerky from the container, right there, next to the pickle barrel.” Arthur shook his head. “Oh, I saw him steal, all right. But a kid like that, one who looks as if he hasn’t had a meal in a goodly while, I look the other way. Figure the Lord is good to me and has blessed my business. I can spare a few pieces of beef jerky.”
This was why Elijah loved his job. He spent time dealing with the worst of humanity, but he’d had the privilege of seeing there was so much more to the human heart. “You’re a good man, Arthur.”
“No, I’m a father.” The man set down his cup.
Would Elijah ever be a father one day, he wondered. Christina popped into his mind, her exquisite beauty, her kindness, the way she’d brought him to life. He had to stop tormenting himself with what was out of his reach. Even if she wasn’t promised to another man, he didn’t have to be a genius to know Christina Eberlee would never be his. “If Toby comes back to the store, will you get word to me?”
“Is he in some kind of trouble?”
“That’s what I want to find out.” Elijah pulled on his gloves. “A boy like that is too young to be on his own.”
“He needs family. He needs love,” Arthur agreed. “I’ll keep a sharp eye out.”
The shopkeeper’s promise heartened him as he pushed out the door and into the frigid wind. Signs of Christmas surrounded him, but the shop displays he walked by didn’t put him in the holiday spirit. Garlands and holly, Christmas trees and nativity scenes stared back at him through glass windows but didn’t touch him. His heart had closed up, and he knew why.
He spotted a small gray mustang pulling a sled at the far end of the town, coming in from the east. Sunshine glanced off the drifts which hadn’t been beaten down yet by traffic. Christina was probably in that sled, he guessed.
“Marshal.” Doc Frost swept open his office door, a mug of steaming coffee in hand. “Come in out of the cold and have a cup with me.”
“Can’t say no to that. I scoured the town again this morning. No sign of Toby.”
“Likely he curled up in someone’s stable to ride out the storm. For all we know, he’s still there, warm and safe. But I worry about that lump on his head. He needs to be watched.” Sam ambled over to the row of clean cups on a shelf.
Elijah shut the door behind him and took off his hat, savoring the warmth from the stove. A small fir stood in the front corner of the room, undecorated, stuck in a makeshift tin can stand.
“My daughters insisted I bring it in this morning.” Sam held out a mug, steam curling from the dark brew. “We’ve had our tree up in the parlor for a week, but this one’s stayed in the barn. Keep meaning to bring it in, but something always distracts me.”
“Like medical emergencies?”
“Yes, those tend to crop up.” Sam had the easygoing, relaxed humor of a man with everything—a loving wife, two darling twin girls and a happy home. It was nice to see. “Better have my nurse decorate that tree. Christmas will be here before you know it.”
“It’s a few days away.” Elijah took a sip of coffee—black, strong and bracing. His gaze strayed over the cup’s rim to the window, drawn by an inexplicable force. He saw Christina slide off the seat of Tom Rutger’s sled and step onto the boardwalk. Her gaze caught his through the window.
“I’ll come by for you tomorrow morning?” Tom Rutger’s words rumbled faintly through the window. He hadn’t offered her a hand down. “I’ll speak with the minister.”
“No... I mean, I’d rather have a Christmas Eve wedding,” she said to Tom as she tore her gaze away from the window. Elijah tried not to hear her faint words muffled by the window and walls, but his ears strained for the sound. “Remember, I wrote in the letter? I wanted a few days to acclimate and to get to know you first.”
“I don’t remember that.” Tom’s jaw grated, his flat tone loud enough to hear plainly inside the doctor’s office. His gaze shot through the window like a bullet.
Elijah took one step back. This really wasn’t his business. The conversation outside lowered to an indiscernible murmur. His pride took a hit when he spotted sympathy for him on the doc’s face. The man must have guessed that he had feelings for Christina. And if Elijah had been that obvious, then anyone else might be able to guess, too. Even Christina.
“I’d like to see her go to a better man,” Sam said, polishing off the dregs in his cup, looking thoughtful. “She’s a real fine lady. Tenderhearted. You could tell that by the kindness she showed Toby.”
“Well, you heard her.” Elijah grabbed his hat and plopped it onto his head. “I know Christina, and she’s given Tom her word. She’s marrying him.”
“She could always change her mind,” Sam pointed out hopefully.
He was not going to let that hope in. Elijah set down his cup, barricading his heart. “Thanks for the coffee. I’ve got to find Toby. Won’t feel right until I do.”
“I worry about him, too,” Sam said, nodding his approval.
Elijah wished he could avoid Christina as he charged out the door but she spun toward him. His spirit acknowledged her even as he forced his feet to carry him away. Her gaze burned like a brand on his back. “You accepted my proposal.” Tom’s terse words traveled on the inclement wind. “I have it in writing. You said you’d marry me, and you will.”
“On Christmas Eve day.” Her gentle answer held a firm note. Easy to imagine her with her chin up, standing her ground, but Elijah resisted the urge to look. He couldn’t step in to help; likely that would only make matters worse for Christina. “You ain’t changin’ your mind about me, are ya?” Tom’s tone turned plaintive and wounded. The sound of a man manipulating carried on the wind.
Elijah’s stomach turned, trying not to listen. He wanted more for Christina, so much more. But she’d given her word, he knew, and she’d likely made a binding promise in her mail-order agreement, a financial agreement that could not be ignored. He paused at the intersection. It’d be smart to check the nearby alleys one more time. Since it was nearly noon, likely Toby would need to start searching for his next meal. Elijah couldn’t help Christina with her marital situation, but he could help the homeless boy. He could make a difference for Toby.
Chapter Six
Lord, I don’t know what to do. Christina sat quietly as the doctor finished putting the new and improved splint on her arm. Her visit with Tom hadn’t gone as well as she’d hoped. There had been no sign of the man she’d been dreaming of. Tom hadn’t bothered to gaze deeply into her eyes, he hadn’t gentled his voice when he spoke to her and he never once mentioned his hope for love between them, as his letter proposing marriage had suggested.