Читать книгу Mail-Order Holiday Brides - Jillian Hart, Janet Tronstad - Страница 13

Chapter Four

“Hello, there.” Christina peeked around the door frame into the boy’s room. The meal she carried, still steaming hot, made her stomach twist painfully in hunger. She breathed in the spicy richness of peppered roast beef, buttery mashed potatoes, doughy buttermilk biscuits and bacon-studded green beans. “The marshal thought you would like something to eat.”

The child sat with his back to her and said nothing, staring at the wall. His slight shoulders drooped, his spine slumped and his mop of freshly washed hair promised to be a mix of blond and brown when it dried.

No one had come for him. Didn’t anyone care?

“How does your head feel?” She set the plate on his bedside table.

No answer. His back rose and fell slightly with each breath.

“It’s good to see that you’re all right. I was really worried about you.” She withdrew a napkin, which Mildred had provided, from her skirt pocket and tucked it beside the plate. “I’m Christina. What’s your name?”

The boy shook his head.

At least he’d acknowledged her. That was progress, right? Encouraged, she sat on the foot of the bed.

“I’m new to town. I only know the marshal, and now the doc and the lady who runs the boardinghouse where I’m staying,” she explained. “I could use a friend.”

“Why?” One thin shoulder shrugged. “You’re better off on your own.”

“I’ve never found that to be true.” She knew what it was like to feel alone and disheartened. “Friends always make life better. They help you, you help them. They share their life, you share yours. Why, I was all alone coming out here on the train—”

“The train?” he interrupted, his back stiffening rod-straight.

“—and I met someone who was feeling the same way,” she continued. Maybe the boy had learned not to trust other people. Was there maybe a way he might open up to her? “Annabelle and I started talking and next thing you know, we were friends. Just like that, wanting to help each other and cheering each other on. I was hoping you would be my friend, too.”

“Uh—” His emerald-green eyes stared up at her like a deer caught in a hunter’s snare.

“I used to live in Dove’s Way, Dakota Territory with my Ma and Pa, until Pa’s death. Then Ma passed away late in the summer.” She slipped the plate off the night table and held it out to him. “That’s when I went to Spring Glen to look for work. It was a bigger town along the railroad. Where do you live?”

The boy gulped, still staring at her. His face turned red and he bowed his head. He took the plate from her and stared at it hungrily.

“I spotted a school bell tower when I was walking here.” She heard footsteps in the hallway, coming closer. “I could see it over the tops of the buildings on the street. Is that where you go to school?”

Instead of answering, he seized the fork tucked on his plate and shoveled in a heap of mashed potatoes.

“Hey, good progress.” Elijah shouldered into the room, seeming to fill it. She couldn’t look anywhere but at him and his wind-tousled dark hair, his easygoing grin and strong, reassuring presence. He paced deeper into the room holding two plates of food. “You got him eating. Any chance he told you his name?”

“No, but he’s going to have to, as we’re now friends.”

“Is that so?” Elijah set one plate on the nightstand. “Slow down there, fella. Eating so fast isn’t good for you. I ought to know.”

The boy didn’t look up. He didn’t slow down. A fringe of too-long hair tumbled over his forehead and hid his eyes as he forked in load after load. If he had glanced at the man before him, he would have witnessed the solemn understanding deep in the marshal’s midnight-blue eyes. Maybe then the child wouldn’t be so afraid.

“Still not using your left arm?” Elijah handed her a plate loaded with food.

“I’m just resting it. It’s fine, really.”

“Right. Like I believe that.” He shook his head, scattering thick dark hair, and gave her a glimpse of a slight set of dimples. “You know I have plans for you and the doctor.”

“I figured there was a price to be paid for this meal.” She still couldn’t wiggle her fingers, so maybe a doctor was needed. She set the plate on her lap, grateful for it. “Let’s say grace.”

“Sounds good to me.” Elijah took her hand warmly in his own.

Little snaps of awareness skidded down her arm, heading straight for her soul. No need to worry about those little snaps. It was harmless, perhaps because she and Elijah were so alike. Without words they recognized the silent boy’s plight because they had been there. Elijah’s dark blue eyes riveted to hers, and the steady light of reassurance she read there drove out everything else.

Yes, his friendship was a surprise blessing. Proof that the good Lord watched over her every step of the way. In gratitude, she bowed her head. Before she closed her eyes she saw Elijah’s broad, capable hand gently catch hold of the boy’s. His fork stilled and he gave one last swallow.

“Thank you, Father, for the bounty of this meal. We are truly grateful.” Elijah’s deep tone rumbled like a hymn, reverent and earnest. “We are also thankful for the blessing of friends You have placed in our lives. Please let us find ways to help each other according to Your word. Amen.”

“Amen.” When she opened her eyes, the lamplight flickered more brightly and Elijah seemed to be surrounded with it, bronzed by the golden glow. His goodness shone through. She could see it clearly.

There is so much good inside of everyone, she reminded herself, thinking of Tom. Sometimes it just takes a while to get to know someone before you can see it. She needed to have faith. Tom had been the only man to answer her letter. She’d answered twenty advertisements that frigid November day when a magazine skidded down the alley she was huddled in, blowing like a leaf in the wind, and came to a stop at her feet. It was all the change she had for postage and paper. And it had led her here, where she was safe and warm with friends. She had to believe that God had brought her here for a reason.

“My ma taught me to pray.” The boy’s words came raspy, almost like a whisper. His bottom lip trembled as if using all of his courage. “Did your ma teach you?”

“She did.” Elijah’s answer rippled softly, warm and comfortable. His earnest wish to help the boy touched her. They’d left so much unspoken about the child. The ragged clothes, being too skinny and the haunted look in his wary green eyes all pointed to one simple truth.

“My older sisters showed me how to steeple my hands and kneel before my bed to pray at night.” Christina found herself answering, longing for what was lost. She plopped a forkful of potatoes on her tongue, so good, so smooth and buttery. That’s when she noticed the boy’s plate was empty. She chewed and swallowed, planning on giving the boy half her food.

“My ma taught me, too.” Elijah leaned over and slid half his roast beef slices onto the boy’s plate. “She could sing like an angel. She was always humming one hymn or another, especially this time of year.”

“We celebrated with music, too.” Christina slid her biscuits onto the child’s plate. “We would spend Christmas Eve going through all the carols and hymns we knew, singing along while my adoptive ma accompanied us on her piano.”

“Did you ever learn to play?” Elijah’s gaze met hers as he slid half of his potatoes from his plate to the child’s.

“Yes.” The memories warmed her and made what was lost closer. “I’m not nearly as good, but I can pound out a decent hymn or two.”

“Decent?” He wasn’t fooled. “Something tells me you can play better than that.”

“I’ll never tell.” Merry chips of periwinkle twinkled in eyes as sweet as blueberries.

“How is our patient doing?” Doc Frost burst into the room. Elijah had been so absorbed, he hadn’t heard a single footstep approaching. Absorbed by Christina’s beauty, as any man in his right mind would be.

“His appetite is just fine,” she quipped. In the soft light, her gentle nature shone through. Her rosebud mouth, perfectly made for smiling, curved upward in the corners like a cupid’s bow. “Okay, I really am curious about your name. Just your first one. I can trade my green beans for it.”

“Green beans?” the boy said. Her joke almost made him smile. “That’s not a very good trade.”

Her chuckle was like a chime of carillon bells. “Well, I suppose I could give you my dessert.”

“There’s dessert?” The boy’s eyebrows shot up and he crammed a too-big piece of roast into his mouth.

“Chocolate cake.” Christina cut a small bite of roast with the side of her fork. “With chocolate icing.”

“It’s a deal.” The boy swallowed and sat back against the wall. The desperate look around his eyes faded, as he was no longer quite as hungry. “I’m Toby.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Toby,” she said.

“Well, Toby, if you don’t mind—” the doctor gestured toward Christina “—I’m going to borrow your new friend for a few minutes. But I promise you, the marshal will see to the doling out of dessert.”

“I excel at that,” Elijah quipped, sending the doc a grateful nod. “I’m a scrupulous lawman except for when it comes to chocolate cake. I just thought I should give fair warning.”

“You wouldn’t try to keep a slice for yourself, would you?” Christina rose gracefully, bringing her plate with her.

“Me? No way. I’d never do anything like that. Never.” He winked, like a man feigning to do otherwise.

“I’ll have you know, I’m immune to those dimples of yours.” She swept away from him, unaware that he couldn’t take his gaze from her. “Any woman would be mesmerized by them, but not me. So there’s no need to go flashing them.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He watched her leave the room with a swirl of her skirts. Down the hallway, over the pad of her step, she spoke to the doctor.

“I’ll find a way to pay you, Doc, I promise you.” Her quiet promise brooked no doubt. “Maybe I could clean your office in trade?”

“I’m sure we can work something out,” the doctor answered, their voices fading to silence.

“She’s really nice.” Toby stuffed a biscuit into his mouth. “She’d make a real good ma.”

“I’m sure she would.” A little arrow of pain speared him. Best not to think about Christina as a mother or as Tom Rutger’s wife. “It’s time you and I had a little talk.”

“Are you g-gonna arrest me?” Big green eyes widened. Toby glanced from window to door, like a trapped animal ready to bolt. “I didn’t mean it, honest. I wished after I’d done it that I could take it back.”

“You didn’t mean to startle the horses.” Elijah focused his attention on the kid. Toby shook his head, as if that wasn’t what he’d meant to say. Curious about that, Elijah continued on. “No one else was hurt...no harm was done except for the teamster who had to restack his load.”

“Oh. I’m real sorry about that, too. So, you ain’t gonna throw me in jail?”

It was tough to gaze into those worried green eyes and not feel something. It had to be hard being all alone. Elijah couldn’t help caring. “Want to tell me what happened to your folks?”

“Uh—” Toby focused on the door. He jabbed another hunk of biscuit into his mouth, making it impossible to talk.

“Let me guess. They passed away.” Elijah cut another bite of roast. “Was it very long ago?”

“Last year.” Still chewing, Toby hung his head. “We all got sick, Ma, Pa, me and my little brother. I was the only one to get better.”

“You don’t have anyone looking after you?”

“Nope.” He speared the last slice of beef on his plate. “After I ran off from the orphanage, I been doin’ okay on my own.”

“Let me guess. You rode in on one of the trains?”

“I’ve been riding the rails since summer.” Toby set his fork on his empty plate. “I haven’t got caught before. I run real fast.”

“Want to tell me why you were running out of the mercantile?”

“No.” Misery hung on him.

Not hard to figure what was going on. He’d have to talk to Lawson over at the mercantile next. “Toby, we’re gonna have you stay the night here, where the doc’s nurse can take care of you. Come morning, we’ll get you a fine breakfast and talk some more. Is that okay with you?”

“Talkin’ won’t do no good.”

“Just goes to show you’ve never talked much with me before.” He took Toby’s empty plate and stood. “I’ll go fetch your two pieces of cake from the other room. You know you’re safe here, right, Toby?”

“I guess.” He blew out a sigh. A line of tension remained burrowed into his forehead.

“Nothing bad will happen to you here. You have my word.” Elijah paused in the doorway. “So sit tight until I come back. Do I have your word on that?”

Toby nodded. “Mister?”

“You can call me Elijah.”

“You ain’t gonna send me back to the orphanage, are you?” The kid’s voice wobbled with worry.

“Not tonight. Your head has to hurt, so we’ll talk about all that tomorrow. Tonight, you’ll be safe and warm. I promise.”

The boy nodded, as if in agreement. Elijah wasn’t sure he could trust him. Best to speak with the nurse and make sure she kept a sharp eye on the door, just in case. Wind gusted against the siding as he left the room, a reminder of the frigid conditions outside. There was something about the kid. He’d come across runaways in his job before, but this one affected him.

He followed the sound of Christina’s dulcet alto. “...I really had hoped it was just a bad bruise,” she explained to the doctor. “Guess I was wrong.”

“You’ll need to keep icing it on and off to get the swelling down.” The doc tucked a final piece of gauze into place and stood. “There. When you take her home, Elijah, make sure and get her ice from the kitchen.”

“I’m perfectly capable of getting my own ice,” Christina said, rolling her eyes.

“I’ll take care of it.” Elijah leaned one shoulder against the door. The sight of her filled him with peace. It took every scrap of his willpower to keep from tracing the curve of her cheek and the adorable tip of her chin with his gaze. Stay unaffected, Gable, he thought, straightening his spine. “So, it was broken. I was right all along?”

“Yes, yes, no need to comment on it.”

He intended to say something light and breezy in return, but a loud whap, whap, whap echoed down the hallway behind him.

He stepped into Toby’s room to find the window open and the shutter slapping the siding. No sign of the boy. His clothes and coat were missing from the closet. He really hadn’t thought the boy would escape and leave chocolate cake behind.

Elijah hung his head. That was one dangerously cold winter storm and Toby was out in it. Alone.

* * *

“Elijah.” Christina spotted the marshal in the small crowd of the late-breakfast rush at the boardinghouse. The red-hot stove struggled to heat the dining room. The morning might be cold, but the storm had blown out. A small blessing. “Elijah.”

“Christina.” The broad-shouldered marshal turned in his chair, and the smile that stretched his granite face when he spotted her drove the chill from the air.

“How’s your arm feeling?” He bounded to his feet, looking strappingly handsome in a dark shirt and denims. Likely every woman in the room swooned at the sight, and it wasn’t only her.

“It’s better. See, I can wiggle my fingers. The swelling is going down. The doc is going to be happy, since now he can splint it properly.” She fiddled with her unbuttoned sleeve cuff, showing the makeshift splint over her broken wrist. “I can tell by looking at you that you didn’t find Toby. I worried about him all night.”

“Me, too.” Shadows darkened his eyes. “I looked everywhere I could think.”

“How late did you search?”

“No idea.” He pulled out a chair at his table. “The storm finally turned bad enough that I had to stop.”

“He’s a smart boy.” Christina couldn’t ignore the fact that Toby knew how to get by. He’d been on his own for a good while. “He would know to find shelter and warmth.”

“He was safe and warm where he was.” Elijah’s face compressed, a hint of his inner regrets. “I should have kept a better eye on him.”

“I should have, too.” She laid her hand on his, which rested on the back of the chair he held out for her. An act of friendship, that was all, a gesture of comfort. So why did it feel like more? Touching him was like coming home to a warm fire after being out in winter’s cold. She removed her hand and settled into the chair he held for her, troubled by her reaction to him.

Maybe it was because she’d been alone, that’s all. Of course it felt nice having friends again. First Annabelle and now Elijah. Tears of gratitude burned behind her eyes, even as she felt sad for Toby. Her life was changing for the better. She had friends, and in Tom she would have a husband and a home. The chance for a family and a happily-ever-after. She wanted that for the homeless little boy, too.

“Here, you may as well finish up the bacon.” Elijah shoved a small plate in her direction.

“Oh, no, I just came in for tea.”

“Fine, but I ordered too much. I’d hate to see it go to waste.” He shrugged, as if it didn’t matter to him, but it did. He turned over the clean cup at her place setting and lifted the small teapot sitting in the center of the table. “I was about to head out and continue my search for Toby.”

“Judging by the way you’re dressed, it’s your day off.” She studied the offered plate but didn’t move to take it.

“Yes, I had time off for the holidays, so I may as well use it for Toby. I don’t have much else to do but stay in and read.” He poured himself a steaming cup of tea, too.

“You read? Me, too. At least when my ma was alive, if we weren’t sewing or knitting, we were reading. Staying up way too late at night because we couldn’t put our books down and come morning, we talked books over the breakfast dishes.”

“You had a happy home.”

“I did. The Lord was watching over me for sure when Ma and Pa came to choose a child.” She looked wistful instead of sad, as if hoping the past could come around again. “I had it once, and it’s what I’m wishing for again.”

“I’ve noticed that you make your own happiness, Christina Eberlee.” He liked that about her. He wished he could get past the knot of worry in his gut.

Please let Tom Rutger be good to her, he prayed. He wanted the man to do his best for her. She deserved that and more.

“So, what do you like to read?” she asked after bowing her head for a brief, silent grace. “Adventure novels?”

“Good guess. I can’t put them down.” He nudged the sugar bowl in her direction. “I was going to start The Last of the Mohicans last night, but—”

“But you were out looking for Toby.” She stirred sugar into her tea. “I could hardly sleep last night thinking about him out in the cold.”

“Me, either. I’ve already put in some time trying to track him down. Will do more when I leave here. We’ll see if I can’t bring in the little renegade.”

“He’s far too young to be on his own. You know he’s been that way for a while. His clothes, his hair. How skinny he is.” She thought of the past five months spent sleeping in the shelter of alleys or stables. Toby deserved better. “And what about the bruise on his head?”

“The doc said he looked fine—it was just a hard bump, but he needs to be looked after. I’ll find him...don’t worry. I won’t stop until I do.”

“What will happen to him then?” She already knew the answer, her stomach knotting as she took a bit of bacon.

“The orphanage.” Elijah shrugged, a helpless gesture. “That’s standard protocol. When there are no parents or guardians, a minor child is surrendered to the territory.”

“I know.” Dark, dim memories of a cold bed and bland food, of stern, overworked women taking care of too many children threatened to well up. Memories she’d thought she’d forgotten. She didn’t want that future for Toby. There was something about him, a sweetness, that grabbed at her heart. “Maybe you know of a family around here looking for a little boy?”

“Times are hard. Many folks are having a hard time providing for the kids they have, but I’ll ask the sheriff. He knows everyone in this town, so he might know of someone.”

“At least there’s a chance.” The boy’s round face and owlish eyes flashed into her mind, an image of him staring at the wall and refusing to talk, refusing to trust. She would pray hard for him, she decided as a familiar man caught her eyes. He made his way into the room, dressed in a shaggy fur coat.

“Tom!” She took a step without realizing she’d stood. She was halfway across the dining room without realizing she’d left the table. She spun around, laughing at herself. “Elijah, I’ll see you later. Thanks for the bacon.” She held up the strip clutched in her good hand.

“Anytime, Miss Eberlee.” He went to tip his hat to her, only to find he wasn’t wearing one. Embarrassment crept across his chiseled face in a pink sweep.

He was funny. Her heart thumped an extra beat, likely in anticipation of being with Tom. He’d come to take her to see her new home.

He stood framed by the doorway with his bulky coat unbuttoned, his blue flannel shirt and red suspenders showing. Tension bunched along his jaw. Fury darkened his face. He did not look glad to see her.

Tom didn’t look glad at all.