What was his message? Why wouldn’t he tell her? Was he disappointed or angry or—?
Gus cleared his throat gruffly as he pulled a pitchfork from a haystack. “I know why you’ve come to Noelle, but you’d best watch yer step. You need to protect yerself.”
“Learning how to dance isn’t dangerous.” She grasped the horn, sitting high on Caradoc’s back, and slid the saddle toward her.
Gus pitched hay into a corner of an empty stall. “Yer risk ain’t in waltzing, but in being sweet on my grandson.”
His sudden directness made her hold on the saddle slip. The leather seat struck her chest like a giant open-handed slap. She was lucky it hadn’t rotated as it fell. The horn would’ve knocked the breath out of her completely.
She muttered a string of curses as she balanced the saddle on her hip and used her free hand to rub the sting from her chest. “Who told you that?”
Enticed by his dinner, Caradoc trotted into the open stall. Gus removed his bridle so he could eat unfettered, then commenced brushing which made the horse snuffle and sigh happily between mouthfuls of hay.
“Who said I’m—?” She waved her hand in the air, searching for the words to express her feelings for Max.
“Hopelessly in love with the wrong man?”
“Yes. No!” She dropped the saddle and set her hands on her hips. “Why would you call Max that? He’s the right man. The only one for me. And you haven’t answered my question. Who told you?”
“That yer besotted? Smitten? Hooked like a fish? Fallen head over heels? Or is it heels over head? Or arse over—?”
“All right. I’m all of that. Now tell me who told you.”
“You did.”
Her mouth fell open like the fish Gus had compared her to. Except she wasn’t hooked onto anything now. She was floundering. “I never said a word.”
“Didn’t have to. It’s how you look at him. How yer voice changes when you talk about him.”
“Does Max know?” Please don’t say you’ve told him! I need to change first. I need time to make him see me as more than a friend.
“Not likely. Not with his thoughts always on work. He’s the same as Jack was before marrying Birdie. Now even their honeymoon bliss is gone. Impending fatherhood has Jack back to fretting ’n working more hours than not. I’m worried again.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. I wish I could help, but I can’t. Not with Jack’s workload, at least. I have my own work in Denver.”
“But if you stay there—working all day, every day as hard as Max ’n probably yer brothers too, you won’t marry. None of you will. You’ll grow old waiting fer Max to take notice of you.”
She heaved an indignant breath as she picked up Caradoc’s saddle and set it on the rack holding the wagon harnesses. “I’m not waiting any longer. I’m making changes.”
“But are they the right kind?” Gus tapped his chest. “I know matchmakers in Noelle who, I wager, can find you a husband who’ll accept you as you are.”
“I don’t want those men! I want Max. And those husbands you mention, here in Noelle or anywhere else, don’t exist. No man wants a wife who wears trousers.”
“How do you know?” Gus asked.
“I know what I’ve seen. Men pay attention to women who wear—” She groaned when her gaze found her skirt covered in bits of straw. “No one wants this,” she grumbled as she pointed at the disorder that had sprung out of nowhere to mar her transformation.
“Don’t be so certain. I’d love to have you, exactly as you are, as my granddaughter.”
Tears pricked her eyes. When Gus held out his hand, she hesitated for only a heartbeat before she ran to grab it.
She wanted to stay in Noelle with him, but she couldn’t without Max by her side. “Help me change Max.”
“No.”
She jerked away from him in disbelief. “Why not?”
“Because he’s happy where he is. Listen, I’d gladly help you show my grandson what he’s missing if he were here.” His voice grew thick with emotion. “Unfortunately, Max ain’t comin’ home fer Christmas. Nor will he, like Birdie hopes, be visiting Noelle any time after that. He doesn’t need you ’n me. Not like Jack ’n Birdie do.”
The lump in her throat made it hard to speak. “But I need him.”
“You need new opportunities before you’ll know that fer sure. You could take the reins here in Noelle. Then Jack could stay in his carpentry shop or whatever building he’s constructing in town. Heck, he could even do an occasional stint at the office if need be.”
She couldn’t help but scowl like a petulant child about to be denied her favorite toy. “I’m happiest driving wagons.”
“If you find the right partner, he could do the office work.”
“Max does that.”
“He also enjoys being a bachelor more than being a family man.”
He might change. But Gus was right. It wasn’t right to push Max to change if he was happy as he was now.
A frown pinched Gus’ brow. “What did my grandson say about yer comin’ to Noelle?”
“I didn’t tell him. My brothers said they’d inform him. I hoped they might inspire him to follow me.”
Gus shrugged. “Even if they did, they can’t inspire him to complete such a journey. He’ll turn back.”
“What makes you so certain?”
“Yer story ’bout him givin’ you the Clyde. Was a time, not long ago, when all Max wanted was to get on the road with that horse. Now he’s found something he likes better. Staying put in a bustling city where he’s king of his castle. Noelle ain’t big enough for Max.”
“But the town’s growing,” she protested, hoping that might somehow entice Max to come to Noelle.
“Not fast enough fer some. And that shouldn’t concern you if yer makin’ yer decisions for yerself ’n not for my grandson—who you won’t see dancing at a party in Noelle this Christmas.”
Chapter 3
With Jack and Birdie leading the way, and Gus by her side, Robyn trudged down Noelle’s main street toward her future. Whatever it might be. The town that Birdie had described so passionately in her letters failed to revive her enthusiasm. Without the prospect of Max joining her in Noelle, how could it?
She glanced over her shoulder, scanning the junction where the street turned toward Denver, hoping to glimpse a man she now accepted she wouldn’t see any time soon. For the reasons Gus had explained plus one more.
As Brynmor often warned, Only the daft, the desperate, or the devil traveled the wilderness after dusk. Which was coming quickly. Twilight darkened the snowdrifts under the frost-tipped evergreens that now appeared black.
When she faced forward again, she found Jack’s worried gaze on Birdie, and Birdie’s equally concerned gaze on her.
Too much looking back. She squared her shoulders and studied the nearest structure. “The Golden Nugget Saloon looks splendid. Is that one of the renovations you mentioned?”
“Oui. Both Jack and Gus,” Birdie said proudly, “had a hand in that, and several new builds. Wait till you see Elwood Hunter’s bookstore at the end of the street. It’s not far. We could go there now.”
“You’ll see everything better when the sun’s up and it’s warmer and…” Jack trailed off as Birdie’s chin raised mulishly.
Robyn scrambled for a way to turn the conversation. “Sheridan’s Hardware looks closed for the evening. I imagine the bookstore is the same. Since I’m keen to see interiors and exteriors, let’s delay any town tour until the morning.”
A relieved smile lightened Jack’s countenance until Gus said, “Cobb’s Penn is also closed, but you can still see Daphne’s hats in their window.”
“This is something I can’t wait to show you!” Birdie grabbed her hand and tugged her off the street and onto the walkway outside the general store.
Birdie made the leap in one nimble step. Robyn did not. Her toe caught on the hem of her skirt. She stumbled like a drunk and swore just as incoherently as one.
Only Birdie’s steadying hand kept her upright, while Jack and Gus, bless them, made no comment on her lack of grace.
Jack positioned himself close to Birdie, so she wouldn’t have to release Robyn’s hand. He held out his arm to his wife. Birdie snuggled close to her husband’s side and gazed up at him with so much love that Robyn’s chest grew tight with envy.
“This is my favorite spot,” Birdie murmured.
Jack’s huff sounded oddly amused. “I’ll admit,” he drawled, “that Cobb’s Penn has better windows than Peregrines’ Post, but surely that’s not enough to garner such favoritism?”
Birdie snorted a very unladylike laugh, but her voice was as pleasant as a Sunday prayer when she murmured, “Charmant bourreau des coeurs.”
Gus grinned as he waggled his finger at his grandson. “She knows you too well, Sunny Boy.”
But Robyn did not. “What am I missing?”
“That yer family ain’t the only ones fond of names. Sunny Boy,” Gus said with a distant look in his eyes, “was what I called Jack when he was young ’n radiated happiness.” He frowned. “Before the war ’n what came afterward.”
“And charmant bourreau des coeurs?” Robyn asked, hoping to distract the Peregrines from those difficult times.
“Means charming heartbreaker,” Birdie replied quickly, probably eager to divert their thoughts as well. “My name for Jack and his teasing when he knows all too well that where I am is not what I love best, but who I’m with—my husband, my grand-père and our good friend.” Her gaze held Robyn’s. “Remember when I wrote to you that Daphne and I were collaborating on ensembles?”
“Daphne’s hats and your dresses. A head to hem pairing.”
Birdie’s eyes widened. “You quote my exact words.”
Robyn shrugged, embarrassed to reveal how many times she’d read Birdie’s letters.
“Zut de zut!” Birdie released Robyn’s hand and tapped herself soundly on the temple. “What a dolt, I am. I should have sent one of Daphne’s bonnets with your dress. First thing tomorrow, we shall obtain you a new chapeau.”
Robyn’s hand flew to her knitted wool cap. Replacing her trousers was one thing, but giving up her hat?
Birdie gestured to the finery in the window. “Which one do you like best?”
All of them, and none of them. They were beautiful but… “I like my cap best. It’s warm, and even though it’s plain in color, it’s exquisitely soft, and was made in a way that is precious to my heart.” Robyn knew she was rambling but she couldn’t stop. “The wool came from sheep farmers who’d recently emigrated from Spain.”
“Let me guess,” Gus said. “They couldn’t afford to pay Max so the wool was their gift to him? And then your cap became Max’s gift to you?”
“Not only me. Last Christmas, he also made caps for each of my brothers.”
Jack released a low whistle. “My brother knitted hats for all of you?”
“Of course, he did,” Robyn said perturbed. “Why should that surprise you?”
“Well, first of all, I thought Max was too busy for knitting. And second, I thought he’d grown tired of folks ribbing him whenever they saw him knitting, which he did quite often in our office. He only stopped a week before he left Noelle.” Jack’s expression turned as perturbed as she’d felt prior to his explanation. “Did your brothers make fun of him too?”
“Never. My brothers may also be charmants bourreaux, but they’d never tease Max about the caps he made for us. Not after he took the time to make them look like the one Bryn inherited from our father.”
Birdie took hold of her hand again and squeezed it reassuringly. “Your brothers said he died before you were born, and your mother soon afterward. I’m sorry you didn’t get to know them.”
“Bryn tells so many stories that it feels like I do know them. He says Papa told him his cap was made in our ancestors’ home in Monmouth. Since the wool started coming apart, Bryn has kept the hat in his pocket and won’t let anyone mend it. Says every stitch, even the unraveled ones, tells us something about who we are and where we came from; the same as words in a journal.”
Gus pressed closer to Cobb’s Penn’s window. “Do you see any needles inside? I want to learn how to knit.”
Jack cleared his throat. “Grandpa, you’ve already learned how.”
“I have not.” Gus stiffened. “What have I forgotten now?”
“Remember when we came home after the war?” Jack asked.
“You took up carpentry ’n Max started knitting.”
“And who taught Max?”
“Yer gran did.” Tears glistened in Gus’ eyes. “Then she tried to teach me.”
“But you were always better at leather tooling. And last year you did some mighty fine wood whittling.”
Gus swiped his hand across his eyes and straightened his shoulders. “And maybe, this year, I’ll do some mighty fine knitting. I’ll make caps fer everyone, myself included.”
“But would you wear it?” Robyn wondered if she’d wear anything other than Max’s cap.
When Gus opened his mouth to argue, she said, “You enjoy your flat cap too much. And I love my wool cap and…” She stared at Daphne’s hats, so very different from what she wore. “Do women wear hats like mine?”
“Hmm, I can’t rightly say.” Gus tapped his chin, same as he’d done outside Peregrines’ Post when he’d pondered her stealing Max’s horse. “I should focus on something everyone wears.”
“Or perhaps not wears but simply needs?” Jack asked. “Like food and a fire to warm themselves? Like we’ll find at Nacho’s?”
She’d forgotten about the diner. When she pivoted to face it, her companions turned with her, finally, in accord.
“Time to meet the dancing lady,” Birdie said.
Robyn had forgotten about that as well. Did she really need to learn to dance if Max wouldn’t be at Noelle’s Christmas party? Should she just go home?
“I’m eager for everyone to meet you.” Birdie cut a diagonal course across the street that’d allow them to reach the diner in the least number of steps.
“I can’t stay long.” Her words spilled out without thought and warning.
All three Peregrines slowed their pace. The air vibrated with unasked questions.
“But I said I’d stay for Christmas and I will.” And if she didn’t fill her time with dancing and planning a new future, what should she do? The diner’s sign caught her attention. Nacho’s Tacos. An intriguing name and maybe a delicious distraction. “I’ve never had tacos. Are they good?”
“You might never find out,” Gus grumbled. “We’ll be lucky if our meal ain’t interrupted nonstop.”
“By?”
Gus waved his arms in the air. “Talk of work: to be done, that ain’t been done, or not done fast enough. The town’s in a flutter from all the railroad politics ’n an unquenchable thirst fer progress. Christmas should be a time to slow down ’n count yer blessings. But oh no, everyone wants their deliveries ’n dreams handed to them immediately. They can’t wait any longer.”
They sounded like she’d felt. Suddenly spending her time learning something as frivolous as dancing seemed both selfish and pointless. Dancing with a partner who wasn’t Max wouldn’t make her happy, but if she helped the Peregrines with their work, she could make them happy, and maybe a whole lot of other folks in Noelle as well.
Folks she’d read about in letters and would soon meet.
She watched Birdie lift her skirt just enough to allow her to gracefully step onto the boardwalk outside Nacho’s. She mimicked the action and couldn’t help but grin when she didn’t trip.
Maybe dresses weren’t so bad after all.
Jack held open Nacho’s front door for them to enter. As he did, a gust of wind hit Robyn’s legs and twisted her skirt around her ankles. She kicked at the hem to straighten it. When it resisted, her curse was strong and clear. A hard yank finally set her to order and allowed her to stand tall and view her surroundings.
&nbs
p; Every man in the room gaped at her. She searched for a woman’s face. For Josefina or Daphne or… Who else had Birdie written about? The woman who ran the general store across the street. What was her name? Avis! Yes, Avis probably sold many helpful products that’d be a mystery to most.
Robyn ran her hand over her long braid. What might Avis recommend to subdue curly hair currently half-tamed in a practical plait?
Jack led their party to an empty table.
Gus stayed close to her and whispered, “Good job on making yer entrance memorable. I count ten bachelors still staring at you. One of them could be yer future husband.”
An unbearable ache rose in her chest as she imagined Max not filling that role and them no longer working together. The sight of Birdie gathering her skirt to sit provided a welcome distraction. She concentrated on copying her movements.
“Which man should we talk to first?” Gus asked.
“None of them,” she muttered as she claimed her seat without a hitch.
“But—”
She crossed her ankles demurely and her arms stubbornly. “First, I want to meet Josefina.”
“And here I am.”
Robyn’s arms dropped to her sides as she gaped at the woman in front of her. Birdie’s description failed to prepare her for the vitality the dancing lady exuded.
“And I have my pot of chocolate,” Josefina declared with a smile as she raised a kettle that traditionally would’ve held coffee. “Shall I pour you a round?”
When everyone agreed and the task was completed, Josefina offered her hand to Robyn.
She froze. She wasn’t comfortable shaking hands or hugging people or— If she didn’t change this, how could she expect to change anything else? She seized Josefina’s hand and shook it so heartily that she amazed herself.
“I’m also happy to finally meet you.” A teasing glint sparked Josefina’s eyes as she glanced at Birdie. “A little bird has pestered my ears continually about you.”
Birdie laughed. “And I intend to pester you more tonight.”
Robyn- A Christmas Bride Page 3