“But first,” Jack rushed to say, “could we order food? Birdie needs— We all need some nourishment.”
“Sure. What will you have?” Josefina asked.
“A…taco?” Robyn glanced at the Peregrines and then Josefina.
“I’ll have the same,” Gus said.
“And us as well.” Birdie patted Jack’s hand. “I’m ready to eat.”
Jack sighed with relief, then chuckled when Birdie added, “A lot.”
As Josefina departed, Robyn noticed the men at the surrounding tables still stared at her. She chose to ignore them by focusing on her drink. The delicious chocolate warmed and relaxed her. She hoped the taco was just as good and that she could savor it without speaking to any bachelors, or without the Peregrines being hounded about freight jobs.
Blessedly, only the buzz of whispered conversations disturbed the room.
When Josefina returned with a tall dark-haired man who expertly balanced their plates while exchanging adoring smiles with Josefina, Robyn knew he must be Nacho Villanueva.
When the last plate was set on the table, a hesitant voice said, “Could I have some of that chocolate, Mrs. Villanueva?”
A “me too” chorus came from the surrounding tables.
“But first,” said the man who’d made the initial request, “make sure that lovely lady gets her cup refilled.”
Robyn’s gaze swept the room, eager to find the lady he meant. Her jaw dropped when she found him pointing at her. Her amazement turned to annoyance when she also found his gaze on her figure rather than her face.
She was more than what she wore!
Max looked her in the eye when he spoke to her and not about her. He also wasn’t here. A fierce longing to see him again overshadowed her delight to be with the Peregrines and the Villanuevas.
Fully committed to replacing dancing—and all types of socializing—with working, Robyn turned to Josefina who was filling her cup. “Mrs. Villanueva, for the duration of my stay in Noelle—”
“Please call me Josefina or even Fina.”
“Fina, about my lessons—”
A chill breeze ruffled her skirt as the diner door banged open. A group of dusty miners burst into the room, hollering good-naturedly for their dinner orders.
“Hold that thought,” Fina called over her shoulder as she followed her husband back to their kitchen. “I’ll return as soon as I can.”
Robyn ground her teeth in frustration. Her trip to Noelle wasn’t going as she’d hoped. Nor were her attempts to regain control of her venture. Maybe her comfortable, but not totally fulfilling routine in Denver wasn’t so bad. At least there, she’d held the reins and knew her destination.
“Miss?” The query, hesitant but hopeful, came from her left.
She stared at her cup and prayed the man was talking to Birdie, which was ridiculous because Birdie was a Mrs.
“Here it comes,” Gus whispered in her ear. “Yer first proposal.”
Surely a man wouldn’t ask to wed a woman he hadn’t even conversed with. Her certainty wavered when she remembered most of Noelle’s mail-order marriages had started that way. But hadn’t those couples formed a bond, no matter how small, through letters prior to their meeting?
She longed to feel that connection as well.
“Miss,” the man repeated with a dogged determination that reminded her of Max.
Max had never ignored a challenge and neither should she.
She turned to face her chatty neighbor head on. “What do you want?”
He gulped and mumbled, “Me and my friends…” He gestured to the men at his table. “We were hoping you might…clear up a question we have.”
“About marriage?” Gus asked eagerly.
“In…a way, yeah.” The man’s voice gained volume. “It’s about wives.”
“See!” Gus boasted. “I was right.”
“Fine.” She stomped her foot. “Let’s get this over with. Ask and I will answer.” A resounding, no!
Oblivious to her ire, the man smiled. “Are you related to Seamus’ wife or to Doc Deane’s?”
Confusion held her tongue-tied. She’d reread Birdie’s letters about the women of Noelle until she felt like she’d known them all her life. But why would this man believe she was related to two strangers who’d come to Noelle separately but for similar marriage-minded reasons? She couldn’t have heard him correctly. “Do you mean Norah and Cara?”
He nodded as vigorously as the men seated around them. They all stared at her expectantly. “Yes, the redheads.”
Irritation made Robyn bristle. “They have names you know. A woman isn’t just somebody’s wife or a hair color.”
The man dropped his gaze along with his voice. “Meant no offense. Sorry.”
She felt like she’d kicked the stuffing out of a daft but still brave scarecrow. “Apology accepted. Now to answer your question. No, I have not had the pleasure of meeting Norah or Cara let alone the gift of being their kinfolk.”
“But you know their names, and you have red hair like theirs and—”
“Hair!” Robyn seized her braid; certain she now had the answer to one of her questions.
The man cringed. “Sorry again to speak of—” He waved at her hair. “Is it a forbidden subject?”
“I hope not.” She pivoted on her seat to face Birdie. “Do you think Norah or Cara could offer advice for changing my hair?” Her shoulders slumped. Further transformations were pointless if Max wasn’t around to bear witness.
“Why’d you want to do that?” her chatty neighbor asked. “You got pretty hair.”
“See?” Gus’ elbow poked her side and made her sit straighter. “Yer perfect as you are.”
“Yeah,” said the man who’d asked about her relations. “You should be proud to be Irish.”
His advice turned her spine as stiff as a wagon seat with no springs. “I most certainly am not!”
Again, the men blinked in surprise.
“I’m proud to be Welsh,” she clarified.
“Ah,” he said as if he suddenly knew everything about her. “You come from mining folk.”
“No, my family and I are teamsters.”
“You’re a…?” Too perplexed to even complete his thought, the man scratched his head.
“A wagon driver. Yes.”
“Well, ain’t that something.” His tone left her perplexed again.
“Something suddenly less perfect?” she demanded.
He shrugged. “Something different. Thought most Welsh workers found their calling down a mineshaft.”
One of his friends cut in. “You mentioned family. Is your husband a mule skinner too?”
A surge of stubborn resistance made her answer only part of his question. “We don’t always drive mules. We have horses too.”
Gus’ fingers drummed the table. “She forgot to mention she ain’t married.”
The men’s eyes lit up as they leaned toward her.
She met their stares without blinking and said as ominously as she could, “But I have three extremely large brothers.”
That news brought wariness to their interest.
“Who live in Denver.” Gus slapped the table hard. “Gentlemen, enough dillydallyin’. Let me introduce you to Miss Robyn Llewellyn, who will be spending Christmas with us in Noelle. So, save a dance for her at the party ’n— Ouch!” Gus scowled at her. “Why’d you step on my toe?”
Robyn sprang to her feet, planted her hands on her hips, and muttered, “Because, Bon-papa, you know there is only one man I wish to dance with.”
“And he ain’t here. So, save yer crossness for when you see him.”
A second bang of the door and flurry of chill winter air heralded the arrival of another diner. In the doorway stood a tall fair-haired man with a red beard. Not bright red but still red. A warm shade of cinnamon that had become her favorite.
Her heart skipped a beat. Max had come to Noelle.
“What—?” Gus’ voice cracked then grew thi
ck with emotion. “What did I say? Always knew he’d come back.” He cleared his throat and shouted, “Welcome home, Maximilian Boy!”
Gus’ reversal of opinion made her groan, but not for long. She shared his elation to see Max.
Her heart raced with excitement as she tried to smooth her skirt and then her hair. The skirt obeyed. The strands escaping her braid did not. Too curly, too wild, too unladylike!
She must arrange to talk to the redheads, Norah and Cara, after all. And speak to Avis about hair taming products. And while she was at Avis’ store, purchase one of Daphne’s hats. And, above all else, learn how to dance from Fina.
Against the odds, Max had come to Noelle. She must hold her faith that whatever happened next, whatever Max did or didn’t do, her plan to see how Noelle might change them both was in motion. She couldn’t turn back.
Chapter 4
Max stood, astounded. Not by how much Noelle had changed, but by how little he had. Hovering inside Nacho’s front door with so many unenthused faces staring at him, he still felt like an outsider, a fraud, a square post in a round hole. Every success he’d earned since leaving Noelle seemed insignificant or even worse, like none of it had happened.
He considered turning tail and heading back to Denver. As fast as he could. Then Grandpa shouted his name, and he saw him, Jack, Birdie and—
He shook his head in disbelief.
Was that Robyn? Wearing a dress? Surrounded by a roomful of men? Men who dismissed him and pinned their gazes on her. With too much enthusiasm.
He made a beeline for her. His brother leapt from his seat and intercepted him. Max held out his hand for a welcoming handshake, but Jack yanked him in for a fierce hug.
“You’re back.” Jack squeezed him even tighter.
“And you’re cracking my ribs.”
The instant Jack released him, Gus hugged him just as intensely. Birdie did as well. When he was finally free, he still struggled to breathe. Their exuberant greeting overwhelmed him. He coughed and said, “It’s good to be here with you.” He meant it even more when he saw Robyn smiling at him.
“And what brings you here, Red Beard?” The familiar spark in her eyes when she said her special name for him, made it even harder to draw in air. Suddenly, her eyes darkened and her voice wavered as she said, “I hope…all is well in Denver.”
“Your brothers are good.” As good as he could imagine them ever being. “I’m here for you.” He forgot to breathe entirely when her eyes shone brighter than he’d ever seen. “You’re needed in Denver, Red Bird.”
“Red Bird?” a nearby diner repeated like a squawky parrot. “Ain’t that the name of the Denver stage?”
A fork clattered on a plate. “It’s bad luck to name a stagecoach after a woman.”
“Yer thinking of ships.”
“Naming ’em after women or having women aboard ’em?”
“Probably both.”
The men’s absurd conversation riled his temper. So, did the fact that, when he spared them a glance, he found them still staring ardently at Robyn despite their words.
She grabbed his arm and pulled him to the table where Gus, Jack and Birdie now sat. “What do you think?” she asked him.
About everyone, including me, unable to take our eyes off of you? About how your smile warms me better than any fire? About how my heart—heck, my everything—doesn’t feel right when you’re not near?
“I think the Denver stage is lucky because of its name. You make everything better.”
The flare of her smile held him spellbound, until he glimpsed the unfamiliar flutter of her skirt as she gracefully claimed a chair at his family’s table.
He crossed his arms and widened his stance, fighting the temptation to join her. “We must return to Denver. Right now.”
“You’re leaving?” Jack scowled at him. “After a year and a half away, why can’t you stay for a day or two?”
He battled the urge to give in to his brother or admit he couldn’t catch a train at this late hour or even probably find a horse to hire to ride home. He’d built too much in Denver to give it up. Even for a day, as Jack asked. “You know why. You’ve been in this business as long as me. There’s always work to be done.”
Jack’s gaze dropped to his plate. Birdie’s darted to her husband, and Gus’ rose to study the ceiling while he tapped his chin.
Robyn stared him straight in the eye. “Tell me, what are my brothers doing in Denver?”
“They’re working.” Was she still concerned about them?
She didn’t appear worried. Determination sharpened her steel-blue eyes. “And with them looking after your business, what’s the rush to leave?”
“We’re needed in Denver.”
“We are and we aren’t.” Her bluntness made him flinch. At least she’d said we not you or I.
He hadn’t lost her completely. They still had a connection. One he couldn’t grasp. “I don’t understand.”
“I know. You and my brothers don’t realize that they need a change as much as anyone. They need to take the reins, to be leaders. So—” She drew in a deep breath. “I could wish for many things this Christmas, but this is all I will ask of you. If you want to give my brothers—and me—a gift, then give them this time to stand on their own.”
Max’s shoulders slumped. He’d forgotten about Christmas gifts. “But I—” If he didn’t get her out of Noelle as quickly as possible, he faced a greater chance of losing her.
“That’s a mighty fine gift to ask fer ’n to give,” Gus said. “Selfless on both sides.”
“Agreed.” Max sat defeated at the table.
Jack inhaled sharply. “You’re staying?”
“Only until Christmas Day.” That’s when Robyn’s brothers said she’d return to Denver if she hadn’t made a success of her transformation. If she hadn’t found the man she wanted to marry.
“That’s perfect.” Robyn pulled her chair closer to him.
Her proximity thrilled then tormented his heart. How would he bear it if one day she chose to sit next to someone else?
“You won’t be bored in Noelle,” Jack said. “It’s a bustling town now. You’ll have lots to see on your holiday.”
Max felt his jaw drop. “Holiday?” He couldn’t remember the last time he or Jack had taken one. “Are you closing your office for Christmas?”
“Well…” Jack rubbed the back of his neck. “No. I have too much to do.”
Max’s spine stiffened. “And I don’t?”
Birdie reached across the table and grabbed his hand. “Don’t think of it as a holiday, but as a break to achieve something different.” The intensity in her grip and her voice startled him. “A time to invest in what you truly need.”
Right now, he needed one thing. Robyn in his life. He wanted her back in Denver with him. He’d consent to give her brothers an opportunity to change, but he couldn’t give her the same chance. He also had an understanding with her brothers—do everything to stop Robyn from marrying someone who’d keep her in Noelle.
The pull of too many forces rearranging a life he’d grown comfortable with put him on edge.
“Don’t glower,” Robyn said. “It’s only for a few days, and we can tackle Noelle together.”
He latched onto the word together. He wasn’t letting her out of his sight.
“We’ll have fun,” she insisted.
Not if he accomplished what he’d come to Noelle to do. His gut rolled with reprimand. One selfless act did not forgive a supremely selfish one.
Birdie squeezed his hand, dragging his focus away from his gloomy thoughts. Leaning across the table, she now grasped Robyn’s hand as well as his and formed bridge between them.
Despite their many shared conversations and smiles, he’d never had the bravery to hold Robyn’s hand.
“We should go home to Peregrines’ Post.” Jack’s gaze shot to Birdie, then Robyn.
Robyn scanned the room until she found a woman helping Nacho serve the diners. Or ma
ybe it was the other way ’round?
“Fina looks busy. I’ll talk to her tomorrow. Let me finish my taco, then we can go.” Robyn fixed her attention to her food and so did Birdie.
Gus grinned. “Robyn’s staying in yer old room, Maximilian Boy, so you’ll be bunking with me.”
Max grimaced, thinking about Gus’ snoring. “Or I can find a room at—” He waved his hand in the air. “Does the Golden Nugget still offer room rentals?”
“Suspect they’re all full,” Gus said. “And the new Creary Boardinghouse too.”
“We won’t hear of you staying with others. We’ll set up a bed on our main floor.” Jack gave him a clandestine wink. “Where it’s quieter.” He nudged his plate in front of Max. “You must be hungry. Eat this.”
Jack’s big brother I’ll-tell-you-what’s-best manner irked Max, but his belly picked that moment to rumble, so he chose to eat rather than argue.
“Yer all set ’n so am I.” Gus polished off his dinner and patted his stomach happily. “I’m gonna go talk to some friends about a Christmas project.”
Jack exhaled wearily then asked much too casually, “Who are you hoping to see?”
“Ezra ’n Jasper.”
The name Jasper was unfamiliar but Ezra Thornton was not. “Is Ezra still living on the ranch with his grandson?”
“Yep. And, like me, he has a fine new granddaughter. Unfortunately, Storm’s bride came with a not so fine goose.” Gus shuddered.
“It’s pretty late for traveling,” Jack said.
“And much too dark,” Max added.
Gus’ expression turned puzzled then miffed. “Who said anything about going there tonight? I’m headin’ to the saloon. If I can’t find Ezra or Jasper there, I can at least enjoy a beer or some of that whiskey Seamus ’n Norah started brewing this spring.”
“Sounds like fun.” Robyn set her fork on her now empty plate. “Max and I will go with you.”
“We will?” He shoved his plate away from him, his appetite gone. There’d be even more men in the saloon than in the diner.
“Gus wants to talk to his friends. I want to talk to Norah. You might find an old acquaintance you’d like to talk to as well.”
He shook his head. I only want to talk to you.
Robyn- A Christmas Bride Page 4