Robyn- A Christmas Bride

by Jacqui Nelson

  “You’d rather go to the freight office with Jack and Birdie than to the saloon with Grandpa Gus and me?” Disappointment lowered her voice but not her gaze.

  “No. I’m going with you.”

  Her expression brightened, but only briefly. “If you keep shaking your head like that, it might fall off.”

  He went completely still as he imagined her brothers doling out that advice when she was young. The thought of not having her near to challenge him made him shudder. He strove for a reply that wouldn’t reveal his turmoil. “I can’t figure out why the name Norah sounds familiar. I’ve heard it before, but I can’t remember meeting her.”

  “She’s Seamus’ wife,” Jack said.

  The name suddenly fit. Seamus had been married before coming to Noelle. “She’s the one he talked about arranging to bring to Noelle.”

  Robyn raised her chin. “She’s the one who stopped waiting for him to make those arrangements. She came to Noelle on her own and now they’re a happy couple.”

  “You’ve met them?” Had she already been to the saloon? How many men had she talked to there? Had she enjoyed speaking with any of them?

  “Not yet, but I want to.” She fiddled with the end of braid. “I’ve heard Norah has hair like mine.”

  “No one has hair like yours,” he objected.

  Robyn’s eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed. “You’re right. Mine’s curlier than most. Redder too. Other women have better hair.”

  “No,” he said flatly, rejecting her words.

  “No?” she queried. “No what?”

  He struggled for a reply that wouldn’t be boorish or bossy. Talking to her had once been so easy but now… All he could think to say was no.

  “You’re behaving strangely. Are you feeling well?” When Robyn’s gaze examined his face, her frown grew. “You look flushed. Maybe you should go to Peregrines and rest, after all.”

  Gus rapped the table with his knuckles. “He doesn’t need sleep. He needs to wake up ’n say what I said earlier about not changing to please others.”

  When had Gus said that? Max sat taller in his chair. The ‘when’ didn’t matter. Gus’ advice was sound and reminded him of Brynmor’s. Keep insisting Rob doesn’t have to change.

  “You don’t need to wear a dress,” he blurted.

  Her frown disappeared. “You noticed my dress.”

  “Of course.” Every man in the diner had noticed.

  She smiled as she ran her hand over her skirt. “Birdie picked the fabric and the style. It’s remarkable how she can take a boring bit of cloth and transform it into something…worthy of attention.” She peeked at him through her lashes. “Don’t you think so?”

  He clenched his jaw, unable to say the truth. That the dress, like Robyn, was perfect. It fit her like a glove and was the best color to highlight her hair and freckles. He struggled to find something negative about the garment, other than the fact that it drew too many men’s attention to her.

  Which it continued to do as Robyn kept fiddling with the fabric. Dealing with it appeared to take some effort.

  He yanked his gaze away from her hand as she touched the curve of her waist. “Did you wear it on your ride to Noelle?”

  “Yes, and that resulted in some challenges.” She glared at her skirt then shrugged. “I’m learning to work around them.”

  “That isn’t right. You shouldn’t have to work so hard.”

  Robyn gaped at him like he’d transformed into an unrecognizable version of himself. So, did Gus and Jack.

  Only Birdie acted unfazed. “Grand-père.” She rose to her feet, and Jack jumped up to join her. “Remember not to stray too far from Robyn’s side. She’s a resourceful woman, but Noelle can bewilder…” Her gaze remained on Gus, but Max felt her words directed at him. “Recent returnees as easily as newcomers. We want to see all of you return safely to Peregrines’ Post tonight.”

  The underlying reminder that his grandfather was prone to forgetful wandering, wasn’t lost on Max. Birdie had phrased her messages similarly when she’d brought Gus to Denver.

  “Stay together,” Jack said more bluntly. “We’ll pay our bill here and expect to see you at home soon.”

  Gus offered his elbow to Robyn. She linked arms with him and headed for the door. Max’s lips parted with wonder. He’d never seen her touch anyone so easily. Robyn disliked hugging and handshakes and… That’s why he’d never been brave enough to hold out his hand to her.

  He hadn’t wanted to make her uncomfortable.

  He scrambled to his feet and followed her—mesmerized as always by the way she moved, the straight line of her shoulders, the angle of her chin, the sway of her hips now enhanced by the infernally perfect dress.

  He didn’t need it to remind him how enticing she was. She’d captivated him from the beginning.

  At least her hair remained the same. It hung down her back in a long braid. If she kept changing, would he be lucky enough to see it unbound and flowing free?

  His spine sagged. He couldn’t hope for that. He couldn’t be more selfish than he’d already committed to being. No more changes for either of them. Robyn must remain as she was—perfect in every way, even when she stayed one step ahead of him and thwarted his plans. While he must remain as he was—dog bone determined to impede and unravel her plans.

  At least until December 25. After that, if— No, when they made it back to Denver together, things could be different. They could make shared plans. He’d put aside his work to see them fulfilled.

  But in Noelle, he’d have no holiday. For the next three days, he had the most important work he’d ever do.

  Chapter 5

  December 22, 1877

  Three days until Christmas and the party

  Holding her lantern high, Robyn hurried down the stairs linking Peregrines’ second floor bedrooms to Jack’s small carpentry shop. In the pre-dawn gloom, her light bounced off the wooden legs suspended from hooks over the workbenches. The limbs’ unusual positions, in the air rather than on the ground, might have been spooky to some but not to her.

  She knew what had shaped this room.

  She’d pestered Max and Birdie with many questions about Noelle. Birdie had a flair for describing people in detail. Max was better at outlining buildings and the roads linking them. Most days Max had only two words for his brother. Hard-working and bossy. But he’d easily expressed a thousand words or more for this room. He made Jack’s workshop as comforting as it was awe-invoking.

  Jack’s creations, like Birdie’s dresses, were works of art crafted with care and compassion. Having lost his leg in the war, Jack knew firsthand how the right replacement gave not only the gift of mobility but a chance to regain one’s confidence. People shouldn’t judge other people, or even rooms, by how they looked.

  They shouldn’t judge themselves either.

  She lengthened her stride, unwilling to examine that thought too closely.

  “I only have to change a few things,” she muttered to herself, “and then I’ll be happy.” The naïve simplicity of her statement made her careen to a halt.

  Life was seldom simple.

  The papers attached to the limbs fluttered in the wake of her sudden stop. Letters of introduction, Jack’s replies requesting measurements, all the back-and-forth correspondence necessary to ensure an artificial replacement was a success.

  Without the knitted liners that had previously been custom-made for each limb. Max had stopped creating them when he’d given up almost everything to pursue the dream of running his own freight office.

  Pondering that loss made her spirits plummet. Had she been wrong to request that Max give her brothers the opportunity to run his business for a few days? They could be as determined as Max when they finally set their sights to something. What would they give up in order to rise to this new challenge?

  She’d hoped they’d release the past and reach for the future. She didn’t, however, want them to become so obsessed that they did only one t
hing. Like Max had done. Until he’d come back to Noelle and agreed to stay until Christmas.

  Careful not to make a sound, she set her palm on the door in front of her. On the other side, Max lay on a bunk that Jack had set up for him in the freight office.

  Had he slept well?

  She hadn’t. She’d tossed and turned with thoughts of him being so close. She’d never stayed overnight in the same building as him.

  Back home, her brothers began worrying if she was even a minute late returning. Home currently was a one room rental over a shop where fiddles and banjos hung from the rafters.

  They’d yet to see a hurdy-gurdy there. She prayed they never saw one again. While Brynmor couldn’t pass the store window without looking for that instrument or for something more unobtainable—the singer who played it. They’d last seen her in Cheyenne, when Robyn’s family and Lark’s troupe parted ways under the order of Lark’s rifle.

  Proving that some musicians were as incapable of change as some freighters.

  She shouldn’t disturb Max if he still slept. She pressed her ear to the door and listened. All was quiet. Upstairs, Gus’ infamous snoring, that Max had used many words to describe, couldn’t be heard down here. The hour was too early even for early risers like Jack and Birdie.

  She should go back to bed, but she was already dressed and wide awake. She’d come this far. She might as well see if Max was up. If he wasn’t, she’d go upstairs and count sheep.

  She turned down the wick on her lantern and eased the door open a crack.

  Max’s bed was empty. Her heart raced with anticipation.

  She didn’t have to wait. They could talk about what would happen today. She wanted him to accompany her to Cobb’s Penn.

  She pushed the door wide open and froze. The office was empty. Panic squeezed her chest. Had Max gone back to Denver? Had he even been in Noelle? Was last night a dream?

  She shook her head at her foolishness and inhaled a fortifying breath. Max’s makeshift bed was here. With his travel sack beside it.

  He hadn’t gone far. He’d promised to stay in Noelle until Christmas.

  She’d find him in town.

  She raised her chin. When she did, she’d give him something extra fine to see. Her new hair and her new hat. Like her brothers, she needed to let go of the past. Just a little. She’d wear Daphne’s hat and keep Max’s wool cap in her pocket. Same as how Brynmor kept their pa’s hat in his.

  Her dress had created a ripple, but she needed a wave.

  She strode down the meticulously straight row dividing the tidy stacks of freight. The passageway in the waist-high counter was propped open. She sailed through, set her lantern on the stovetop, and contemplated the last pieces of wood. She needed to go outside and fetch more from the piles flanking the office. Piles stacked taller than her.

  Jack had invested considerable time ensuring Birdie was well provided for.

  The front door opened and Max came in, balancing a bundle of wood in his arms. The wind had blown his blond hair into a snarl around his rugged face and neatly trimmed red beard. As always, this intoxicating combination of untamed mountain man and precise businessman drew her to him.

  She rushed forward to help him.

  He easily closed the door behind him with his heel. He, of course, didn’t need her for something as simple as that. He was a capable man used to living on his own. But she couldn’t stop wanting to be part of his life, and he spent most of his time working.

  “Let me take some of that wood,” she said.

  A frown pinched his brow. “Better not. Wouldn’t want to get your dress dirty.” He steered a wide path around her and unloaded his wood by the stove. Then he dropped to one knee and began arranging it in a neat stack.

  She planted her hands on her hips. “Women who wear dresses can still make fires you know?”

  “I’ve no doubt of that.” His frown deepened when he stopped to stare at her dress.

  She felt her cheeks grow hot. His face appeared rosier as well. That was probably from his recent trip outside in the invigorating air. Without even a shred of a smile, hoping he was finally looking at her in a new way was foolish.

  “But when I worked in this office,” he said in a gruffer than usual voice as he went back to his stacking, “my first task was starting the fire while Jack started the coffee.” He glanced at the pot sitting on the stovetop and his tone lightened. “It’s a sad fact, but no amount of practice will make anything I brew as good as his.” He flashed her a smile that melted the stiffness from her body. “Or yours.”

  “You’re such a tease. You and my brothers.” She stomped her foot, but couldn’t help grinning. She’d missed their banter. “You just want me to cook for you.”

  He chuckled. “Yes and no. I’m hoping you’ll make us some coffee. That’s all. Your brothers are angling for you to cook more of the meals.”

  “They’ve been doing that for a long time. But they’re better cooks than me. At least Bryn is.”

  “That’s the older sibling’s cross to bear,” Gus grumbled.

  Robyn whipped around to find Max’s grandfather watching them from a perch on a stool behind the post office end of the counter.

  “Yer brothers are worried the wheels on the wagon will stop rollin’ if they ain’t on top of it. So, they do the stuff others don’t want to do ’n not always what they want to do. Which ain’t right.” He thrust his finger in the air. “Seize the day ’n do what you want, I say!”

  Robyn glanced at Max. The return of his frown made her hesitant to discuss her plans. So, like a coward she asked, “What’s on your list for today, Bon-papa?”

  Gus crossed his arms. “Can’t tell you. It’s a secret.”

  Max’s cough drew her attention.

  He held her gaze as he tapped his chest and tilted his head back toward Gus. The tips of several knitting needles protruded from under Gus’ tweed vest.

  “Late to bed and early to rise,” Max whispered to her.

  “The traits of a man on a mission,” Robyn replied in the same tone.

  Gus winked at them. “That’s me.”

  “That,” Max said with a sigh, “is what worries me.”

  She shared his concerns plus one of her own. She hoped Max’s arrival in Noelle had ended Gus’ urge to introduce her to every bachelor in Noelle.

  Last night, Gus had found Jasper but not Ezra in the Golden Nugget Saloon. The two old-timers had claimed a corner table where they conversed covertly. Max and Robyn sat at the bar and chatted with Norah and Seamus—whenever the couple weren’t pulled away to tend customers.

  The saloon had been just as full as the diner. She hoped today wasn’t as busy. She wanted to get to know all of the Noelle women better.

  Norah, similar to Fina, had been a whirlwind at work. She’d also been willing to put aside her labors this morning and ask Cara to do the same. They’d meet her at Avis’ store to discuss hats and hair.

  The closer that event came, the more nervous she became.

  “Time to seize the day,” she mumbled as she reached for the pot on the stove. “I’ll get the coffee brewing.”

  “I’ll add more wood to the fire.” Max worked beside her in silence, but when they all had steaming mugs in their hands, he spoke instead of drinking. “What time are you expected at Cobb’s Penn?”

  His unexpectedly direct question made her choke on her coffee. She sputtered her reply. “As—soon as—it—opens.”

  Norah was eager to, as she’d said in her delightfully lilting Irish accent, compare hair horror stories with her and Cara.

  “That’s perfect.”

  “It is?” His certainty puzzled her.

  “Yes. Jack and Birdie will be down soon. There’ll be time to discuss Noelle’s shipping before you head out. You were always interested in every end of the business. Maybe you aren’t now.”

  Her confusion deepened. “Of course, I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “Last night you spoke of other things.
” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Mostly shopping and socializing.”

  He made her sound frivolous. He made her feel guilty. Her shoulders slumped. Max’s expression turned as glum as her mood.

  She enjoyed talking to people, but the shopping was only a means to an end. Hauling freight had made her happy until she wanted more. With Max. “Jack said you could take a holiday.” Why won’t you take that holiday? With me?

  “And Birdie said...” Gus tapped the counter impatiently. “Something similar. Something ’bout investin’ time in what you truly need.”

  His words raised her spirits. She was relieved to have him as her ally again. “You’re right, Bon-papa, that’s exactly what Birdie said.”

  Max stared at his cup. He hadn’t taken a drink which was odd. In Denver, he’d always enjoyed her coffee. In Noelle, things were different. And not the different she’d hope for.

  He adjusted his hold on his cup. “Jack also said he had too much work to take a holiday. I’m only suggesting we spend a few minutes listening to his plans for the day, before we go about ours.”

  Gus huffed. “Talkin’ about work usually leads to gettin’ involved in work.”

  Max nodded, but when he caught her watching him, he went unusually still.

  “Well, I got my own project to attend to.” Gus downed a large swig of coffee and smacked his lips in appreciation. “Can’t dillydally. Not even over this good a treat. I’m off to Ezra’s as soon as my cup is empty.”

  Max’s spine stiffened as his gaze pinned his grandfather. “You’re not planning to go to Ezra’s ranch on your own.”

  “Of course, I am. Why shouldn’t I?” Gus held up his hand. “Don’t answer that. I’ve heard it all from yer brother. What happens if you wander off the road? Or you fall down the mountain? Even Birdie knows better than to do that now. This ain’t like last winter when she—”

  “Bon-papa, we invited Jasper to join us here for breakfast.”

  Gus slurped another mouthful of coffee. “When’d you do that?”

  “Last night. It wasn’t only me, it was—”