Читать книгу Mail-Order Holiday Brides - Jillian Hart, Janet Tronstad - Страница 11

Chapter Two

Angel Falls. Chilly air burned Christina’s face as she stepped from the train onto the platform. Ice crunched beneath her shoes as she savored her first look at the town that was to become her home. Snow mantled the train station’s roof and clung to evergreen boughs. It frosted the rooflines of a street of shops and a few small shanties across the way. A gray sky stretched overhead from horizon to horizon and the shining peaks of the distant Rocky Mountains rose up to disappear into the low clouds.

Home. The word filled her with possibilities. She gripped the red handle of her black satchel more tightly with her good hand, hardly aware of the hustle of folks climbing off the train behind her. She searched the small crowd for Tom’s face. Let him not be too hairy, she hoped. Her palms felt damp against the wool of her green mittens as she waited for her husband-to-be to step forward and claim her.

This was what she’d prayed so hard for, day to day and from night to night. All around her, families reunited or said farewells, clinging to one another, sharing loving looks. Husbands and wives, mothers and sons, friends and sisters. Gentle wishes and cries of welcome or sad sounds of parting peppered the air around her. A lovely family crowded together, reunited, a mom flanked by two beautiful little girls while her husband kissed each daughter on the cheek. Tears stood in their eyes. Anyone could see the love that bound them. The happiness they felt when they were together.

Please, let that be me one day. It was what she wished with all her heart.

“Ma’am?” A country-looking man in a brown hide coat swept off his wide-brimmed hat. His brown hair was a little too long and mussed, and his abundant facial hair all but hid his mouth and a good deal of his collar.

Maybe she could talk him into a trim, she thought optimistically, refusing to be disappointed. He looked less prosperous than she’d hoped with his threadbare trousers and patched boots, but his eyes were kind. That was a prayer come true. That was what mattered.

“Tom?” she asked excitedly, suddenly so nervous her mouth felt numb. “It’s wonderful to meet you.”

“Sorry, I ain’t Tom.” He put his hat back on, looking disappointed. “I’m Jed. Guess you ain’t Aida, either.”

“No, I’m sorry.” She truly was. She watched as Jed continued down the length of the platform. Another woman stood at the far end, looking lonely. Christina wished she’d known there was another mail-order bride on the train. Her mind drifted to Annabelle. How were things going with her? Was Adam all she’d hoped for?

“Excuse me, miss?” A very proper-looking man in a black suit approached her. A top hat hid most of his sleek, well-combed black hair. This couldn’t be Tom, since the man looked like a butler and not a farmer. “You wouldn’t happen to be Miss Louisa Bell?”

“No, sorry.” She watched as the man moved on, searching out the only other lone female waiting on the platform.

The rumble of the engine vibrated through the boards at her feet. The wind gusted, swirling her skirts around her ankles. She prayed no one could see the hole in her sock or the state of her well-mended shoes. She drew her brown coat more tightly around her, unsure what to do. There were no other single men on the platform. She’d been quite clear in her letter to Tom about the day and time she would be arriving. Perhaps something had held him up? Or, worse, perhaps the letter had been lost in transit?

A little of her happiness leaked out with her next breath. A flake of snow struck her cheek, and she shivered. The hustle of the crowd had gone.

“How’s the arm?” The rumble of a smoky baritone drew her attention. Marshal Elijah Gable tipped his hat to her. “Still just bruised?”

“Yes, exactly, and feeling much better.” Not that she could move her fingers yet, but she was hopeful. “What are you doing loitering around the depot?”

“Oh, keeping my eye out for crime or nefarious-looking ruffians.”

“So a big part of your job is just standing around doing nothing?”

“Something like that.” Little did she know he’d been watching over her. “I also help damsels in distress.”

“If I see any, I’ll point them in your direction.” Blue flecks in her eyes glittered up at him.

The stubborn light within him strengthened like an ember refusing to be put out. “This clearly isn’t my business, but your fiancé hasn’t shown up to claim you.”

“He’s coming, I’m sure.” She glanced around the empty platform, maybe thinking she was hiding her anxiety. Behind them the train rumbled, like a giant beast ready to bolt. “Perhaps he got waylaid.”

“Maybe.” Elijah couldn’t imagine anything that would cause him to leave Christina alone in a strange town and penniless. “Why don’t I help you get settled, so you’re not standing here all afternoon?”

“Oh, no. Tom said he’d meet me here, and that’s right where I’ll be when he comes.” She motioned toward the cozy little station where lamplight shone through frosted windowpanes. “I will be warm and safe there, so go about your business. I see no damsels in distress here.”

“That’s too bad. Just thought you might want some company.” Snowflakes drifted lazily on a gusting wind, harbingers of another storm coming. He planted a hand on his hat, holding it when a gust hit. “It might get cold waiting.”

“I’m sure he won’t be much longer.” The dainty curve of her chin hiked up a notch. “Any number of things could have happened. A sick animal on his farm or a broken axle on the drive to town could have delayed him. There could have been an accident on one of the streets in town and he stopped to help. He’s a reliable man, my Tom. He’ll come.”

“I’m sure. The thing is, the station closes between trains. There won’t be another one until morning.” As proof, the lamplight went out, leaving the small window in darkness. A tall, pole-skinny man opened the door and took out his keys to lock it behind him. “With the sun about to set, it might get cold waiting here.”

“Yes, it might.” She bit her bottom lip, studying one of the benches tucked up against the side of the station house. “I’m sure Tom won’t be much longer.”

Was she aware of the slight wobble in her voice, the one hinting that maybe she wasn’t so sure?

This isn’t your business, he tried to tell himself. Being near to her like this would only make him hurt more, because as she stood in the hazy light before sunset, dappled with snow and lovelier than anything he’d ever laid eyes on, he cared about her. He didn’t know why she brought life to his heart. He only knew she did.

A cruel truth, because she was not free. He could only pray that the man who’d claimed her was worthy of her. A smart man would walk away. This was a safe town, he and his fellow lawmen worked to keep it that way, but no young woman should be sitting alone in the cold and dark. It was his professional duty to see her somewhere safe, and that made it a little easier to snatch the battered satchel from her gloved hand.

“Hey, that’s mine.” Soft tendrils of brown silk framed her heart-shaped face in airy little wisps. “You are helping me against my will, Marshal.”

“Sorry, it’s my sworn duty. The train is leaving—” He paused while the whistle blew loud and long. “Your Tom will know to look for you at the hotel. This isn’t a big town. There aren’t a lot of other places you could go.”

“I don’t know which hotel he made my reservation at.” Her gait tapped alongside his, as lightly as a waltz. “I’m afraid we didn’t exchange many letters.”

“You were in a hurry to wed?”

“Very much so, as I was sneaking into the local livery stable to sleep during the night and creeping out before the owner arrived each morning.” Her chin hiked another notch. “I could have been arrested for trespassing if I’d been caught. What do you think about that, Marshal?”

Her tone remained light and sweet, but it took a like soul to hear the hollowness beneath. He clomped down the depot steps.

“I do know how that feels.” His honesty surprised him. His past wasn’t something he dredged up. He followed the boardwalk, staying at her side. “My parents lost our farm when I was ten. We lived out of our wagon for two years. Pa would work wherever he could find day wages, usually harvesting or planting. In the heat of the summer or the bitterest days of winter I slept in the back of the wagon. Then one day, the wagon broke down, Pa couldn’t afford the repairs and so we slept where we could.”

“You were homeless, too?” Surprise softened her, opened her up in a way he’d never seen in anyone before. She had a pure heart, he realized. No guise, no facade, just honesty. “So you know what it’s like?”

“To be so hungry your stomach feels ready to gnaw its way out?” He nodded, hating to remember those tough times.

Her curls bobbed as she nodded her head. Yes, she knew exactly what he meant. He was afraid of that. He blew out a breath, hating she’d known that existence. Considering the worn and patched state of her clothes, maybe she was still living it.

“I pray those times are behind you.” He pitched his voice to be heard above the approaching rattle of a teamster’s wagon. “I’m glad you found Tom. Life has to get better from here, right?”

“That’s the idea.” Snow breezed between them, as if to divide them. As if heaven were reminding him she was not his to care about. “Do you know Tom Rutger?”

“No, sorry. Moved here in September.” The sidewalk came to an intersection and he stopped. Christmas was in the air. Somewhere, perhaps a street or two over, bells chimed. Sounded like Reverend Hadly was out collecting coins for the orphanage again.

“So, you’re new to town, too.” The storm swirled around them with sudden vengeance, veiling the horses pulling vehicles down the street. The shops on the other side were merely glimpses of shape and color before the snowstorm swallowed them. “Where did you move here from?”

“Helena. I was headquartered there. When the office opened here, I jumped at the chance.”

“You always wanted to live in Angel Falls?”

“No, I was looking for a change. My pa passed away a few years back. Thought it might be a good time to start somewhere new.”

“I’m glad you did, or we never would have met.” Her smile could make him forget to breathe. Unaware, she brushed snowflakes out of her eyes. She peered up at him, her face rosy from the cold, asking a deeper question. “Did your pa find a job in Helena? Is that when you were able to find a home?”

Strange how two very different people—she, a little dainty thing and he a tough, lone-wolf of a lawman understood one another. She truly understood what a home meant. “My father finally landed a steady job working on a big farm overseeing the wheat fields just out of town. He only worked nine months out of the year and things were lean, but it was just the two of us. It was the turning point for us.”

“Just the two of you? What happened to your mother?”

“She passed away when I was eleven.” Those were times he didn’t talk about. He didn’t explain there had been no money for a doctor, and the wagon had proved too cold a shelter in winter.

But Christina seemed to know that without him having to say so. Understanding shone in her eyes. “I’m so grateful you had your pa.”

“We got through it together.” He swallowed hard, grateful not to have to explain further. Strange how she could understand him like that. “The hotel is across the street. We’ll get you checked in and I’ll leave a note for Rutger at the train depot, so he knows where to find you, even though it’s the only hotel in town.”

“Thank you, Elijah.” His name rolled off her tongue like a hymn, sweet and reverent, and the sound filled him up. He admired whoever Tom Rutger was for his choice in a bride. A smart man—one not pining after another’s intended—ought to get moving and stop wishing. He took her elbow to help her across the street but a horse’s shrill whinny of alarm stopped him.

He couldn’t see much through the curtain of snow. Harnesses jangled. A lady screamed.

“Whoa!” a man called out as shadowy wagons skidded to a stop. Horses reared in alarm and a load of lumber crashed to the ground.

Elijah was running before he’d even realized he’d stepped off the boardwalk. His gaze riveted to a small form lying motionless in the middle of the chaos.

“He came out of nowhere, Marshal.” The teamster jumped down from his wagon. Panic-stricken, the man dropped to his knees beside the still body. “He’s just a little tyke. He ran in front of my horses. Couldn’t stop ’em in time.”

“Are you okay, boy?” Elijah brushed the muddy snow from the mired street off the boy’s face. Lashes blinked up at him as the child tried to stir, but he slipped back into unconsciousness. Just a little guy, maybe eight years old. Somebody’s son, somebody’s loved one. He laid a hand on the boy’s chest, relieved at the steady heartbeat.

“He’s still breathing.” Christina knelt beside him with a swish of her skirts. Distress wreathed her lovely face. She ran tender fingers across the child’s forehead. “He has quite a bruise already, and a lump.”

“My horse done it.” The teamster’s face twisted, torn up. “Must have hit him with a hoof when he reared up in surprise. Will he be all right?”

“Head injuries can be dangerous,” Christina said, taking the end of her scarf and gently swiping the boy’s face with her good hand. The child moaned, stirring again. “That’s a good sign. How are you feeling, sweetheart?”

The boy’s eyelids fluttered, but he didn’t open them. Small, scrawny, scared, he was a ragamuffin who could use a good meal. Poor kid.

“Anyone know who he is?” Elijah asked.

“I don’t, sorry, Marshal.” The teamster shook his head.

“Never seen ’im before.” Les from the lumberyard ambled over. “I saw the whole thing. The boy ran out of the mercantile like a rabbit being chased by a coyote. Didn’t even stop to look for traffic.”

“He darted into the road,” agreed elderly Mrs. Thompson from inside her covered carriage. “I don’t recognize him, and I know everybody in this town.”

“Thanks, ma’am.” He scooped up the boy carefully, cradling him in his arms. “Anyone else hurt?”

“Nope.” The teamster’s concern remained carved on his rugged face. “I’ll check in with your office later. See how the boy’s doing.”

“I’d appreciate that.” The weight of the boy in his arms reminded him of his new mission. The doc’s office wasn’t far. He turned to the woman at his side. “I guess this is where our paths part again.”

“You’re wrong about that.” Her chin hiked up as she gripped her satchel’s handle with her good hand and accompanied him around the maze of stopped vehicles. “I want to help you with that little boy.”

“But what about your intended?” He stepped onto the boardwalk. “You might miss him.”

“Tom and I will find each other. I believe that is God’s will for us.” It felt easy to think so in this small, cozy town graced with white. She loved the way snow made everything fresh and new. This is what she hoped to make of her life, to recover it and start again. Thanks to Tom, she had the chance to belong and find a real home, to have a husband and one day a family. Helping the wounded boy felt like her first act in this new life. Do the right thing, her adoptive mother used to say, and it will always work out right in the end. “Right now, this boy needs us.”

“He does.” Elijah led the way down the opposing street, walking with quick certainty. Masculinity radiated from him with quiet assuredness.

He seemed like a man comfortable with who he was, a man sure of what he stood for. Soft feelings rose within her, but that was only natural. It was impossible not to admire a man cradling an injured boy in his arms, keeping the child tucked safely to his chest for warmth.

Yes, simply a little admiration, that’s all, she told herself, praying Tom would be like Elijah—good, decent, strong and caring. A man who would cradle their children in his arms one day.

“What is a child that age doing running around on his own?” she asked as they hurried down the boardwalk. “Why didn’t his parents come running?”

“Good question. Maybe they are busy in one of the shops.” He nodded in recognition of a man in a dark coat riding a fast-moving horse in the direction of the wagon accident. A star glinted on his chest. “There’s the sheriff. He’d spot anyone searching for a missing child here in town and send them on to the clinic.”

“Oh, the boy’s waking up.” Christina leaned in closer with her soft lavender fragrance and sweetness. Her gleaming hair held highlights of cinnamon in the late day’s light. As the brim of her blue hat brushed his jaw, places long dark in his heart brightened.

He didn’t feel the weight of the boy or the cold of the wind or hear the clatter and chaos echoing down the street. All he could see was her. The cute slope of her nose, the big wide blue eyes focused on the child in his arms and her caring expression burnished her, making her more incredible than anything in their snowy surroundings.

“Hello, there.” She smiled into unfocused, blinking eyes. “Do you remember what happened?”

The boy groaned in pain and rolled against Elijah’s chest, burrowing closer as if to his parent. Perhaps the boy was confused. Not surprising he would be after being hit like that. Elijah ignored a stab of longing. The promise of a son had died with his fiancée long ago.

“What is your name?” she asked gently, not wanting to startle the child.

No answer. The boy took one look at her and hid his face against Elijah’s jacket.

“That’s quite a lump you have on your head.” Her gentle attempt to talk to the boy garnered nothing. The child didn’t move.

Was he crying? Or just trembling from the cold? Elijah couldn’t tell. He glanced down the street, half expecting to see a worried mother dashing down the boardwalk after him. Nothing.

“Guess he doesn’t want to talk to us,” Elijah quipped. “Must be a good sign?”

“Must be. Does your head hurt?” she persisted.

Nothing. The boy was probably just scared, Elijah thought.

“You’ll be all right,” he reassured him. “We’ll get you looked at. Doc Frost’s a nice doctor. He’s got two girls about your age.”

Still no response. The boy wasn’t bleeding and he didn’t seem badly hurt. All good things in his favor.

As Elijah glanced over his shoulder one more time, he spotted something else beyond the crowd of onlookers. A man strode across the street coming from the direction of the train depot. His jaw set, his posture stiff, his quick steps angrily stalking toward the hotel.

Tom Rutger? He winced, not wanting it to be so. The foreboding lodged in his chest told him otherwise. Christina’s groom had come to claim her. The man stalked into the hotel and disappeared, but likely he’d reemerge in a minute or so. That was all the time he had left with Christina.

“Maybe this is where we go our separate ways.” He stopped in front of the clinic door. “Go on back to the hotel.”

“But I want to stay until his parents come.” Torn, she set down her satchel and ran her fingertips across the boy’s head. The child wouldn’t look at either of them, stiff with tension.

“He needs a doctor now.” He clutched the child to him, taking a step back. “I can manage it from here.”

“But I feel as if I should do more.”

“I know, but the child is my duty now. Look, your Tom is coming.”

“You’ll let me know what happens, right? I’ll be at the hotel. You could drop by and tell me his parents found him.” She scooped up her satchel. “I want to make sure his story gets a happy ending, too.”

A happy ending sounded nice, but stopping by to see her? Not a good idea. He opened the door instead of answering her. He would make no promises he didn’t intend to keep. Heat from the potbellied stove inside the clinic washed over him, but he shivered as if with cold. Probably it had to do with the brawny, blond-headed man storming up the boardwalk behind Christina. Dark eyes bored into his. No way to miss the clear message of possession.

“Thanks for your assistance, Miss Eberlee.” Elijah nodded in farewell, reined in his feelings and stepped into the clinic. The boy sniffed against his chest, clinging hard. Probably worried about what his ma would say once she caught up to him. “Goodbye.”

“Goodbye.” The last daylight vanished, the colors and light of the world bled away and stole his last view of her. The brightness in his heart turned to black as he let the door swoosh shut behind him and handed the boy over to the doc.