Читать книгу Montana Man - Jillian Hart - Страница 10

T he blizzard continued to howl between the buildings like a trapped wolf. Wrapped well against the early morning temperatures, Miranda kept her head bowed to the wind and tried not to slip on the boards.

Many merchants hadn’t opened up yet, or were still out attempting to shovel off the boardwalk. Snow drove so hard it was impossible to see the street beside her.

It was her lucky day. The mercantile was open. A striped awning sheltered the front door, where a freshly shoveled path led into the store.

A bell jangled overhead, the scents of wood smoke, leather, the pickle barrel and a blend of hundreds of other scents welcomed her. A potbellied stove in the middle of the store glowed red, puffing out heat.

“’Mornin’.” An older gentleman straightened from his chair near the warmth.

“Good morning.” She slipped between rows of canned goods and tugged her shopping list out of her pocket.

“Miranda!” Josie limped toward her, locket sparkling against her blue wool dress. “Are you shoppin’, too?”

“I firmly believe that shopping is a girl’s duty.” Warmth gathered behind her breastbone, and she knelt so she was eye-level with the child. “You’ve got an empty basket.”

“I can’t decide. I’m tryin’, but it’s hard.” Josie’s brow wrinkled. “Uncle Trey doesn’t know anything about shoppin’.”

“Men never do. It’s one of their many flaws.”

“I heard that.” Trey’s boots knelled on the floorboards. “My flaws are only good ones. And Josie, I can, too, shop.”

Miranda gazed up the strong column of Trey’s legs, encased in soft denim, past the breadth of his chest. Her heart kicked just from looking at him. Heavens, he was a handsome man.

“You can’t, either, Uncle Trey.” Josie shook her head. “I gotta have curtains and not plain white ones.”

“White curtains?” Miranda lifted one brow. “Surely you can spring for a nice print.”

Trey held up his hands. “What’s wrong with white? It matches everything.”

“I see your problem, Josie.” Miranda tried hard not to look at Trey again. “It looks like you need help with that flawed uncle of yours.”

“I may be the best doctor this side of the Badlands, but I’m confused. I don’t know what’s wrong with white. We can have white curtains, white quilts.” Trey gestured toward the ready-made items spread out on a back counter. “Maybe blue?”

“But it’s for my bedroom.” Josie grabbed hold of Miranda’s hand. “’Cept we don’t got a bed yet, and I’m only five.”

“You need help, Josie. You can’t trust a man to do a woman’s job.” Miranda took a breath, heart pounding. “I could help you out this morning. I have a few hours to spare until the train comes.”

“The train?” Josie’s brow furrowed. “You can’t leave. You just can’t. You got off at my new town and everything.”

Miranda gently brushed soft red curls away from the girl’s sad eyes, feeling Trey’s scrutiny like a physical touch. “This isn’t my new home, Josie, not like it’s yours. I have to go.”

“Oh.” Josie blinked, and tears gleamed there, honest and aching.

Trey’s face darkened, the jaunty grin gone from his mouth, leaving only a stark strength. “Miranda, where do you plan on going? There won’t be a train today.”

“I have a schedule right here in my pocket.”

“The passes are closed due to the storm.”

“Closed?” That didn’t sound like a good thing. Not good at all. Maybe for the train, but not for her. “The trains will run as soon as the storm’s over, right?”

“It’s not that simple. You’re in Montana Territory now. The word is that there won’t be a train for a few days after the storm or more. Maybe an entire week. We’ve got twelve-foot drifts out there.”

“A week?” She couldn’t stay here for a week. That would give the bounty hunters too much time to backtrack. Now what did she do? “I can’t leave until the storm clears.”

“No one leaves this town or enters it until then. We’re rimmed by mountains on all four sides, and the teamsters’ routes take as long to clear as the tracks.”

“We’ll see.” She’d been in worse straits and figured her way out of them.

“Will you really help me, Miranda?” Josie clung tightly to Trey with one hand, and Baby Beth with the other. “Mama made my other bedroom, and now I only got Uncle Trey.”

Trey gazed down at her, sizzling male power. “Yes, Miranda, help us. I’m woefully inadequate.”

It had been so long since she’d felt like this, full and alive, as if she could make a difference. As if she had worth.

But what if one of the bounty hunter’s men had spent the night here, too?

Either way, she was trapped in this town until the storm passed. “Okay, I’ll help you out. Let’s take a look at these quilts again. Tell me which ones you like.”

“I like the dotted one.” Josie ambled away from Trey’s grip. “And the flowers. Do you like them?”

“Absolutely.”

Miranda let Josie study the two patterns she liked for a long moment. Trey didn’t leave. He stood behind them, his presence as hard to ignore as the blizzard outside. Every hair on the back of her neck tingled, as if his look were a touch.

Why did her skin sparkle, as if waiting for his caress? After how Lewis had tried to hurt her, the last thing she wanted was a man’s affections.

Every time she looked up, Trey’s gaze met hers. Every time Josie limped to him, eager to show her uncle every item she’d decided to buy, he grinned.

Why on earth did his smile make the emptiness in her chest fade away?

The door blew open with a bang. Miranda protected Josie from the wind as Trey gestured for them to enter his home. Snow drove past them onto the rag rug in the entry, and Miranda took Josie’s hand, careful to keep her from slipping as she stepped with her bad leg on the slick wood floor.

“Let me tend to Josie.” Miranda knelt down to unbutton the girl’s ice-caked cloak. “It’s too cold to leave the deliveryman outside.”

Trey kicked the door closed, wrapped in snow. “Doesn’t look like Mrs. Stoltz is here right now. I hate to ask—”

“Go help the deliveryman.” Miranda nodded, peeling Josie out of her cloak. “I have a feeling they don’t usually do this in the middle of a storm.”

“Whoppler owes me a favor or two.” He winked, knelt down to ruffle Josie’s red hair. “I’m going to need a doorman.”

“I can do it!” Josie lit up. “I know I can.”

“The floor’s awful slick.”

“I can be careful.”

Affection flickered in his eyes before he tugged open the door and struggled outside into the mighty storm.

“Are you excited to get your new furniture?” Miranda tugged off Josie’s rubber boots.

“Uh-huh. It’ll be like I have a home here now.”

“I’m glad.” Miranda hung the little cloak and scarf onto wall pegs to dry. “Can you go fetch me a towel? I’ll get this floor cleaned up, so you won’t slip.”

Josie took off, her gait hurried but uneven. Miranda slipped out of her wraps, taking a moment to look around. The windows were dark, even for midday, casting the room in shadows.

Honeyed log walls and floors kept the bitter cold out. She knelt before the gray stone fireplace and stirred the banked embers. Exposed to air, they glowed. When she added kindling, they became fire.

She lit a lamp, and she could see the room better. A fine carpet softened the wood floor. The overstuffed sofa looked comfortable, the perfect place to relax after a long day. A book lay open on one of the cushions.

What would it be like to live in a home like this? Snug and cozy, safe from the bitter storm and all her troubles? To curl up on a sofa and read for hours?

“Here’s a towel.” Josie, breathless with excitement, walked as fast as her injured leg would allow.

“We’d better hurry.” Miranda set aside her daydreaming.

She barely finished drying the floor for Josie when a bump sounded at the door. Miranda opened it and let the little girl hold it open for the men.

Trey backed into the room, carrying a heavy piece of furniture. Whoppler’s youngest son held up the other end, and the men plowed through the room.

“That’s my bureau!” Josie’s eyes shone.

An hour passed before the delivery sleigh was unloaded. Each time Josie’s happiness grew a notch, her sadness faded away. Each time Miranda felt a little brighter.

“That’s it.” Trey burst through the door alone and dropped a bundle on the ground. “The blizzard looks like it’s blowing out. It’s hard to tell, though. It feels like a three-day-er.”

“A what?”

“A three-day blizzard. We get them all the time.”

“Uncle Trey, you look like a great big snowman!” Josie clapped her hands.

“Watch out, or I’m going to melt all over the floor. Who would treat Mrs. Watts’s rash then?” Trey swiped at his jacket, but the driven snow was so thick, it didn’t crumble. “I can’t find my buttons.”

“Lucky for you, I’m here.” Heart full, Miranda swept the broom’s bristles across his chest. “I’ve always wanted to take a broom to a man.”

“I bet you have.” A slow smile crooked his lips and his gaze. Why, it looked as if he was staring at her mouth.

Heat flushed her face. She didn’t lift her gaze from the broom as she swatted the stubborn snow. It wouldn’t break apart. Like a miniglacier, it remained on his chest, immovable, while she could feel his gaze on her face, soft like a touch.

She knew that touch. She’d felt it before. It was the way Lewis had looked at her when she’d thought… There. The snow cracked. One more determined swipe sent the whole of it smashing to the floor.

“Miranda, come see!” Josie pulled aside the oilcloth protecting her purchases. “Oh, the flowers look so pretty.”

“Pink roses are my favorite, too.” Miranda set the broom aside, but Trey caught her hand.

It was impossible not to look at him. Not to feel a spark of attraction, a spark she didn’t want to feel, when his gaze fell to her mouth. “Have I thanked you today?”

“You don’t need to.”

“I saw the men after you. I saw how badly they wanted you. I just want you to know—” His voice dipped, so only she could hear. “I appreciate what you’re doing for Josie. Look how happy she is. Because of you.”

“I’m sure it’s because of her dashing, debonair uncle with the big billfold.”

“Yeah, but I couldn’t have picked out the curtains to match the quilt. Or the ten other things you helped her choose. You did a good job with her.”

“Hurry up, Uncle Trey.” Josie, the shades of grief gone from her face, hugged a lace pillow in one arm and Baby Beth in the other. She limped toward her bedroom door. “I wanna see it all perfect.”

“Then we’d better get busy.” Trey’s lips brushed Miranda’s cheek, quick and light, but the contact left a snap of sensation on her flushed skin. “That’s for Josie’s smile.”

Even though she knew what all men were beneath the polish and charm, she liked him. Heaven help her, she really liked him.

Mrs. Stoltz returned in time to hem the curtains while the soup warmed. By the time the noon meal was ready, the new curtains, tiny rosebuds printed on creamy white cotton, were, too. Mrs. Stoltz promised to add ruffles later.

Trey hung the curtains across the wide window after the meal, according to his niece’s careful instructions.

The rose-and-green braided rug graced the gleaming wood floors in the room’s center. Josie’s white four-poster bed was tucked in the corner, next to the warmer inside wall. The thick quilt sported appliquéd roses against rosebud-print calico blocks, a match to the curtains at the window.

“Oh, Miranda.” Josie clasped her hands, swirling awkwardly on her injured leg. “It’s so pretty!”

“You really like it?”

“I do! It’s not like my old room at all, so it won’t make me sad.”

Miranda felt a mix of emotions, shades of sadness for the girl’s loss.

“It’s a good thing we had Miranda to help.” Trey laid his hammer on the brand-new bureau. “I might have talked you into the polka dots. We’d have had a disaster on our hands. Guess what?”

“What?” Josie gazed up at her uncle. “You got me a surprise?”

“You’re too smart. I can’t get nothing past you.” Trey gently tweaked her nose. “This should keep you and Miranda busy for the rest of the afternoon. Unless you two have designs on the rest of Mrs. Stoltz’s chocolate cake.” He cast his gaze to her.

“The offer of cake is mighty tempting.” Miranda’s heart was warm, filled with the sweetness of the day.

“I’m glad we’ve tempted you, Miranda.” Tiny lines crinkled in the corners of Trey’s eyes, laugh lines carved there over time. “Wait until you see my surprise. I’ll be right back.”

She tried not to watch him, but her gaze followed him across the room. He looked strong from the back, too, she realized, her breath catching. Wide shoulders, muscled back, lean and powerful thighs.

What was she doing? She should head back to her hotel, study the map she’d bought and figure out the best way to keep ahead of the bounty hunters. This storm wouldn’t last forever.

But she didn’t want to go. She didn’t want this happy feeling to end.

Trey returned with a trunk.

“That’s no surprise. Those’re my clothes.” Josie tugged at the clasp.

“That’s what you think.” Trey snapped the lock and lifted the top. “These are things I saved from your house.”

“Mama’s afghan.” Josie trembled as she pulled the length of wool into her arms.

“And look, things she made.” Trey lifted delicately crocheted doilies by lacy edges. “I thought you’d want to have them here with you.”

Josie nodded, tears gleaming.

“Wait, there’s something else.” He fished a brass frame from inside the brimming trunk. “A likeness of your parents.”

Josie added the daguerreotype to the bundle in her arms and hugged it tight, looking not quite so lost.

Without words, he pressed a kiss against her cheek, his love for her so true.

I don’t belong here. Miranda felt it like a punch. She backed out of the room, her step made quiet by the howling storm outside.

Regret filled her, and she could not look away as the big man and little girl fished through the treasures in the chest. Treasures Trey was probably hoping she would help Josie find places for.

She wanted to stay, but it wasn’t her right. She tried to keep her step quiet on the parlor’s polished wood floors, heading for the door.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Trey strode through the parlor as she cinched her sash tight. “What about my chocolate cake bribe?”

“Tempting, but Josie needs you.” She reached for her cloak. “Thanks for including me this morning. I’ll keep the memories in my heart for a long time.”

She stepped out into the cold and closed the door before the honest plea in Trey’s eyes changed her mind.

The cold blizzard battered her, isolating her until she felt alone in a world of wind and white. She struggled through the deep snow toward the street. At least, she thought it was the street.

Now she wasn’t certain of the direction. Snow pummeled her from every angle. Town was left, right? She turned around. A shadow hazed through the snow.

Fear licked through her, and then she recognized the jaunty angle of a Stetson. Trey broke through the veil of snow.

“Miranda.” He leaned close, cheek to hers, to be heard above the wind. “Let me see you home.”

“But Josie—”

“Is fine. Mrs. Stoltz is with her.” Trey offered his arm. “It’s time to let me take care of you.”

Take care of you. Lewis’s favorite phrase. Miranda couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling as Trey tucked her hand against his elbow.

It was too hard to talk. Trey led her the few blocks to town, where the boardwalk provided scant shelter from the storm. Storefront windows gleamed with light. The boardwalk was nearly empty.

With every step she took, he was beside her, towering over her, protecting her from the wind and snow. His arm felt iron-dependable hooked in hers.

Trey pushed open the inn’s front door, but her hand caught the wooden frame, too. She would hold her own door. She would take care of herself from here on out. She wasn’t looking for someone to shoulder her problems.

Trey swept off his snowy hat. “This doesn’t have to be goodbye.”

“Yes, it does.” She couldn’t forget the sight of him and Josie kneeling before the trunk, haloed by lamplight, surrounded by love. She was glad they had each other.

“Thank you for joining us.” Trey turned to her in the foyer, where the dining room stretched behind him, empty and bright with lamplight. “You don’t know it, but you made my first day as Josie’s guardian a good one.”

“That’s what you are, a guardian?”

“According to the lawyer.” He unbuttoned his icy coat, ambling toward the potbellied stove in the lobby. “But truly, I’m not sure what I am. I just know that she’s my sister’s daughter, and I love her.”

“Believe me, love is enough.” She heard the ghosts of the past in her voice, and she bit her lip. Those ghosts were best left behind and forgotten. But this day would linger in her heart a long while. “You’ll do just fine, a dashing and charming man like you.”

He nodded once, slightly, his smile slow as he faced her. “What about you, Miranda? The train will be running by the end of the week, and you’ll be short one good-luck charm.”

“I’ll manage. Josie needs it more than I do.” Miranda paused. “Will her leg improve?”

“According to the specialist? No, but then, I’m an optimistic man. There’s no telling what the future holds.” But his eyes said it all, shadowed with quiet grief. Josie might never walk without a brace again.

Miranda’s throat ached. She wished…no, she’d given up wishing on first stars of the night, in believing there could be fairy-tale endings in this cold world. “Maybe her new good-luck charm will help.”

“Maybe.”

“And if not, then she has you.”

“Me?” He shrugged one brawny shoulder. “I’m not sure she got a good bargain in gaining me for a parent. But I’m going to try to do right by her.”

“Try? You’re going to do fine.” What was this man, with the saucy humor and charm, who’d stood up to an armed bounty hunter on the train, that he sounded uncertain now? “You’re wonderful with her.”

“I’m a good uncle. I don’t know how good a father I’m going to be.”

“Probably the best one in the territory.” She waited until a grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Be careful heading back. The wind’s rising.”

“I’m an old hand at handling blizzards.” He caught her gaze, intimate as a touch, as tangible as a breeze to her face. “Josie and I won’t forget your kindness. Remember, you have a friend if you ever need one.”

His words rang in her heart. She couldn’t speak as he stepped out into the storm. The wind roared, fierce and brutal, and the darkness stole him from her sight.

The staircase curled up into the dark, the polished banisters gleaming in the parlor’s light. The boards squeaked beneath her step. Her stomach felt tight, her chest fluttery. She’d find another inn. Just in case. It never hurt to be careful.

She packed her satchel and checked out. She’d noticed a quiet hotel just a block away. Lucky for her, they had an available corner room with two big windows and a fireplace to chase away the winter’s cold. It would be her home for the duration of the storm, and she was grateful for it.

Alone, she pulled the book out of the mercantile’s brown wrapping and settled down beside the fire to read. Alone, the minutes passed slowly. The hour hand on the clock crept across the small etched face.

She ate in her room and went to bed early, reading until her eyes were heavy. But the minute she closed her book, Trey materialized in her mind. His saucy grin, his twinkling eyes, the tender way he’d given Josie her parents’ picture.

She lay in the dark a long time, listening to the howl of the storm, hearing its loneliness.

“Uncle Trey?” It was the faintest whisper.

He looked up from his medical journal, blinking. The lamp at his elbow cast only enough light to read by; he couldn’t see anything else but darkness in the room. Then a ghostly wisp of pink flannel shivered through the deep shadows.

He rubbed his tired eyes and pushed back his chair. “Josie? What are you doing up?”

“Nothin’.”

She sniffed once, and his heart broke. It simply broke. How was he going to make her world right again?

Determined, he pressed a kiss to her brow. “You’ve got to be awake for a reason. Don’t tell me you’ve developed a bad rash on your big toe and it itched so much it woke you up.”