The diner and Robyn were behind him now. He was too late to stop her dancing lessons. He turned the next corner and headed for the bridge in a stupor. He didn’t want to go forward. He wanted to go back.
All the way back to his days working with Robyn in Denver and his nights…dreaming about holding her in his arms. A jolt of excitement made him sit up straight. The team, sensing the change in him, sped up.
Today he had a chance to hold Robyn for real. As soon as he unloaded this wagon, raced back to the diner, and cut in on the dance partner currently holding her. Jealously made him pull back on the reins.
The team snorted and tossed their heads, confused by his mixed signals.
He locked his gaze on the train depot ahead and mapped the shortest path to the best location to unload his cargo as fast as possible. A partially loaded wagon rested next to an open railcar. He parked next to it and started heaving bales into the empty side of the car.
“No time even for a hello, I see,” drawled a familiar voice.
He glanced over to see his brother setting a crate on the wagon bed opposite him. He scanned Jack’s wagon but the only other familiar sight was the Peregrines’ team of mules.
“Where’s Woody?” he asked, eager for their friend’s help.
“Busy with his menagerie of animals, I imagine.” Jack stepped back inside the railcar.
And Max went back to throwing bales onto the side his brother had conveniently emptied for him to fill.
Jack came out carrying another crate. “No need to rush. This train doesn’t leave for a few minutes. And I’ll help you unload your wagon soon as I’m done loading mine.”
Not if I get done first. Then I’ll be helping you. He tossed the bales faster. He paused only to jump aboard the railcar and stack the hay along the wall to make room for more. Then he was back on his wagon and repeating the routine.
It allowed him to enter another routine. Talking to his brother in stops and starts as they worked.
“I heard Woody got married.”
Jack disappeared inside the railcar and only answered when he came out with his next crate. “He did.”
“Happily, so?” Max asked as he prepared to leap into the car.
“Very.”
Jealousy upset his balance. He fell on the bales and scrambled upright, hoping Jack hadn’t seen.
“You all right?” Jack called from outside.
“I’m fine.” He should have been more than fine. Woody was a good man. So were Nacho, Seamus, Storm, and Liam. And his brother too. He should’ve been happy to hear and see them all so settled.
“Woody drives the stagecoach sometimes.” Jack’s words distracted him from his moody thoughts.
“But he no longer drives your freight wagons?”
“He’s too busy.” Jack winced as his own stride finally faltered. He paused long enough to rub his thigh above his wooden leg, then went back to work.
“And you aren’t?” And if Woody wasn’t helping Jack, who was?
“The work here is my responsibility. And I don’t mind being with the mules now. I even like that one.” Jack gestured to the mule on the right.
Which looked identical to the mule on the left, but Max knew the difference. The mule Jack liked had helped him save Birdie from falling off the side of the mountain to her death.
“Gus is with Ezra now?” Jack asked, ever the worrier.
“Yep. And he said he’d be busy there the whole day. Didn’t want to be disturbed until supper time—when he’d make his own way home.”
“I’m good with the first part of that scenario. Not the last.”
“Same here.”
They worked in silence for a full minute as Max mulled over another topic. Noelle’s matchmakers and their successes.
“So…Storm is happily married as well?”
“He is. You didn’t see him and Molly at their ranch?”
“I was in a hurry to get back to town.” He scowled. “I saw her goose however.”
Jack laughed. “The gander’s name is Daniel.”
Max laughed with him. And his mood lightened. When had he last laughed with his brother? “Noelle is a crazy place.”
“But a good place too. Or at least it’s trying to be.” His brother paused briefly again to rub his thigh. “We had a lot of strife that came with the railroad construction.”
“Ezra told me the best spot to put down roots is near a town but not in it.” But when Max had last lived in Noelle, he remembered Ezra worrying that the Thorntons’ ranch might not be a good fit for him and his grandson. Their house was too big for just the two of them.
As if reading his mind, Jack said, “Ezra also says the best only came after Molly moved into their house.”
“Why haven’t you built—?” He bit back the words a house for you and Birdie.
Not enough time would be the answer. Time was the eternal problem.
“Do you have plans after supper?” Jack’s smile remained firmly in place.
Max’s smile vanished. “I hoped to spend my evening with Robyn.” But if he didn’t make it to Nacho’s and make a good impression there, she might not want to speak to him later.
A frown shrouded Jack’s happiness “You should be with her right now. I should’ve taken Gus to Ezra’s and been the one to haul those hay bales. Let me finish unloading them while you go find Robyn.”
Relief flooded Max. He jumped down from his wagon and turned toward town—where he saw Culver Daniels running toward them. For a big man, the blacksmith moved remarkably fast. He reminded Max of the Llewellyn brothers. Except he wasn’t a redhead or Welsh or a man prone to teasing others.
Culver grabbed his hand and shook it as heartily as Liam had. “Good to see you two working together again. Makes it easier to ask for your help. I know you’re busy. You’re always busy, but I have a pair of sculptures I need to get on this train.”
Max stifled his groan. “That’s a two-man job.”
“Even faster done by three,” Culver said. “It’ll be like old times. The Peregrine family saving the day.”
Maybe in Noelle but not in the war, where they’d first met Culver. They’d known him longer than anyone in Noelle. Max couldn’t refuse him. “We’ll need to finish here first.”
Culver leapt inside the railcar. “I can assist with that.” He planted his hands on his hips as he glanced between Max and Jack. And gave them the biggest grin Max had ever seen on the man’s face. “Who needs the most help finishing?”
Surprise dropped Max’s jaw. He was wrong. The smithy was a teaser as well. He’d heard Culver had also married last Christmas. Had his wife improved his humor? The man radiated joy.
Max huffed, but couldn’t help joining in the torment. “Jack needs the most help. As usual, he’s slower than me.”
Jack let out a sigh and the familiar worry lines returned to his brow. “You don’t have to stay,” he whispered between receiving crates from Culver so their conversation remained private. “You could’ve said no. You still can.”
“Have I ever said no to work?”
“You probably should now. Robyn’s—”
“Happy doing what she needs to do.” Avis had said she’d been smiling a lot. “And besides helping Culver, you still need to deliver your incoming shipment to the town. And I need to return this wagon to the Thorntons.”
“You’ll have time to see Robyn tonight,” Jack said.
“Yes, I will.” And as soon as they were alone and no one could interfere, he’d ask her point blank to help with Peregrine work.
“This is the last one,” Culver said as he handed a crate to Jack and turned to Max. “Now for the bales.”
Max dredged up a smile. “Thanks for helping us.”
“It’s the least I could do, and I’ll do more.”
“You don’t have to,” Max replied. “Hauling freight is our job.”
“And,” Jack added, “it’s our pleasure to help a friend.”
“My thoughts exactly
,” Culver said. “I look forward to returning the favor.”
Ezra had said similar. Max shrugged and tossed bales to Culver, hoping to turn the conversation to a simpler topic. Ezra and Culver’s favors wouldn’t help him convince Robyn to return to Denver with him.
Her brothers would be mighty disgusted if they learned of his failures today. He was disgusted with himself.
Like they’d suggested, distracting Robyn with the enticement of helping with Jack’s work was his best plan. And judging how her eyes had lit up this morning when she’d peppered Jack with questions about his deliveries for the day, it should have been an easy plan to accomplish. If he cut out all the unreliable parts, like depending on Jasper to show up for breakfast, the plan could still work. He still had a chance of getting Robyn to come home to Denver with him.
Unless she had changed so much in one day that she’d lost interest in what had previously made her happy, and didn’t want to spend time with him anymore.
Chapter 8
Robyn set five dinner plates on the office counter and sighed. Not only in appreciation of the beautiful counter Jack built, but in commiseration for the Peregrine family not having enough room for a dining table, and in disappointment that she hadn’t seen Max since breakfast.
She tentatively touched her hair arranged atop her head, the soft ribbons and hard pins holding it up. Her fingers skimmed the back of her neck which made her shiver. Without the warm weight of her braid, she felt…exposed. She tried to distract herself by keeping her hands busy. She arranged the cutlery around the plates, then placed the high stools next to them.
It astounded her that Jack had built a chair just for her. That he hadn’t been content merely to lend her Max’s seat in the belief his brother wouldn’t be here for Christmas. She sighed again. This time happily.
Jack and Birdie and Gus had made her feel like a desired part of their family.
“It’s really lovely,” Birdie said.
“I’m honored that Jack made a seat for me, especially since I’ll only be here a few days.”
“Oui, Jack’s gifts are also très belle, but I was speaking of your hair,” Birdie said from her seat by the stove.
A spot Robyn had suggested because Birdie had sounded out of breath. Not that she’d told Birdie that. Instead, she’d admitted to being a terrible cook, and that Birdie had better sit and tend to the stew, or they’d all be eating burnt food.
She’d come to realize that Birdie was as stubborn as Gus and as hardworking as Jack. Birdie had spent all day sewing. And in Gus’ absence, she’d also ran the postal counter. While Robyn gallivanted around town changing and not changing.
Her time at Cobb’s Penn had, except for Max not being there, gone according to plan. Her time with Fina afterward had not, but she’d still managed to be helpful. Now guilt pricked her conscience.
She should’ve helped Birdie first.
“What did the folks at Nacho’s say when they saw your new hair and hat?”
“There was little time for talk.” Which wasn’t completely true. The diner had once again been too busy for Fina to give Robyn dance lessons. She’d stayed to help serve the customers and, as before, struggled to converse with them. “But I meet Jane Creary there. She taught me how to handle the food orders.”
“Thank goodness she and her family chose to stay and run their boardinghouse. After so many treated them so terribly, I wouldn’t have blamed them if they’d left. The Crearys are the best of neighbors. Hardworking. Kind. Always eager to help.
“When Jane saw me struggling, she tried to help, but…” Robyn straightened her backbone. It’d take a lot more time to teach her the art of conversing with strangers, but she must invest the time. The gift of that gab would come in handy at the Christmas party—where she still hoped to dazzle Max. “Jane said she’d ask her sister, Rosalind, for advice about talking in groups.”
“There are many things to learn, but while you are learning them, know this.” Birdie’s spoon circled the pot at a determined pace. “You are already perfect as you are. And I’ll say it again and again until you believe it. Your hair, in a braid or as it is now, is très belle. You are beautiful no matter what you wear.”
Robyn appreciated Birdie’s conviction, but she wasn’t so certain. After returning to the office and not finding Max here, she’d stowed her new hat under her bed upstairs. It could stay there until the Christmas party. She’d felt odd wearing it at the diner and on the street. It seemed too flamboyant to wear…anywhere.
Not like her cap which she’d been comfortable wearing everywhere. She couldn’t, however, don it tonight if she wanted Max to see her newly transformed hair.
Where are you? She stared at the door, willing it to open and for Max to walk in, for all three of the Peregrine men to appear.
Only the daft, the desperate, or the devil traveled the wilderness after dusk.
In a big city with many streets, she’d never failed to find at least one that led home. While here in Noelle, surrounded by so much snow…
Her shivers returned. “It’s getting late.”
“Maybe they’re across the street again?” Birdie had informed her that she’d last seen Max and Jack helping their friend Culver, the blacksmith who’d married the gypsy widow, load several hefty items on the train.
She must know the depot’s schedule well to have chanced seeing them. Or had she just looked outside a lot?
Robyn’s gaze followed Birdie’s to the ladder by the window.
“Keep your eyes on the stew. I’ll take a look.”
Birdie laughed. “Oh, the things you’ll do to get out of cooking. I envy your height.”
Robyn snorted because she knew Birdie was more than content with what she had, including the office’s unusually high windows that made the use of a ladder necessary for Birdie to see outside. Birdie loved every inch of Peregrines’ Post and Freight. She would never ask for more. But she and Jack needed more.
They needed a home away from their work and their worries. Unfortunately, Jack had been so busy doing jobs for others, that he hadn’t had time to build his own house.
As she approached the window, a firm knock rapped the door and halted her in her tracks.
A stranger must be outside. Someone who, like Birdie when she’d first arrived in Noelle last year, hadn’t known to just open the door and let herself in. Peregrines was a business open more hours than not.
Or maybe Max waited outside carrying so much wood that this time he couldn’t open the door. He needed her help.
She yanked open the door.
Revealing her brother, Heddwyn, standing on the doorstep. He’d never been to Noelle, but he’d heard the stories about Peregrines. He knew he could open the door, but he hadn’t. Why?
A series of expressions crossed his face as he stared at her. Shock. Awe. Uncertainty. Terror.
Her heart seized with dread. She grabbed his arm and shook it hard. “Why are you here and not in Denver? What’s wrong?”
“Thank the blessed stars, you’re still you.” He enveloped her in a tight hug.
She gasped for air. Why was he behaving so oddly? She could count the times on one hand that he’d hugged her. Her panic grew. She tried to wriggle free. When he wouldn’t let go, she jabbed him in the ribs with her knuckles.
“Ouch!” He stepped back, rubbing his side and looking more offended than injured.
She knew this expression well, but the familiarity didn’t comfort her. “Has something happened to Bryn or Griff?” she demanded.
His brows shot up and so did his palms. “Now calm down, Little Red Robyn. Nothing’s happened to anyone.”
Her entire body sagged with relief. “Then why are you here?”
“Because…” He shrugged sheepishly. “Nothing happened. To anyone. In Denver.”
She narrowed her gaze on him. “You came here because you were bored?”
“And now I’m not. The train ride was fascinating, and Noelle is mesmerizing. So tiny and
strange. But the most astounding thing is this!” He waved to her hair and her dress. “You’ve done it. Have you received his proposal of—?”
“Not yet.” Her inability to say otherwise made her scowl. “And this—” She waved at him standing in Peregrines’ doorway. “Was not part of our agreement.”
Hedd’s lower lip protruded in a fake pout. “Could you agree to let your poor ol’ brother inside?”
“You really should,” Birdie said. “It’s cold outside.”
Robyn flinched. She’d forgotten about Birdie. “Get inside, Hedd. You’re letting in all the cold air.” She yanked him in and slammed the door against the draft, concerned not for her brother’s well-being but Birdie’s.
But Birdie was now smiling brightly.
Heddwyn doffed his wool cap and returned her smile. “Greetings, Hen who Rules the Roost. Thank you for your clucking voice of reason.”
Birdie laughed. “Of all of the Llewellyn brothers you are the most terrible of the teasers.”
Robyn grabbed his arm again. “Do Bryn and Griff know you’re here?”
Hedd looked everywhere but at her. “Look at those dresses.” He released a low whistle as he inspected Birdie’s inventory hanging on several lines. “They’re spectacular.”
“A teaser and a flatterer.” Birdie shook her head. “Heaven help the ladies of Noelle. Especially the single ones.”
“No time for them. I want to see everything that you told me about this office. Like Jack’s counter.” He ran his hand along the length of it. “And Gus’ leather tooling rack and—” He paused only to sniff the air. “Is that stew I smell? I’m famished.”
Robyn folded her arms. “You’re not getting any food until you answer my question.”
“Bryn and Griff will hardly notice I’m gone.” Hedd circled the room, examining Pearl’s drawings on the walls and the white and royal blue panels that hung beneath the high windows.
Birdie had found the bird-patterned fabric, an almost identical print to the ones she sold last year, on one of her summer trips to Denver.
Robyn- A Christmas Bride Page 7