Читать книгу Montana Man - Jillian Hart - Страница 10

T he train jerked to a stop. Miranda sat up and pushed her way off the extra baggage piled in the corner. Was it safe? Had they reached a town?

Light splashed through the unsealed cracks in the car. She eased through the darkness, leaned against the uneven painted boards and squinted through the narrow slat.

Yes, it looked like a train platform. Relief shivered through her. If she slipped off now, the men after her might never know where she was. Maybe they still believed she’d jumped and given up their search. Maybe.

But memory of the bounty hunter’s flat dark eyes frightened her. He was a ruthless one, the leader of determined men. She’d been eluding him for the last six months.

He was smart enough not to be fooled by a bonnet in the snow.

Lights glowed like faint beacons through the shroud of the storm, calling her out of the corner and toward the closed door. She caught her toe on an edge of a trunk and her shin slammed hard into another piece of luggage as she fell. Pain felt far away—she feared her feet were frostbitten.

Just as her hands were. She couldn’t feel the edge of the door as she tugged it free, but she could hear the creak of steel as the opening widened. Driving snow fell like a veil, obscuring even the platform from view.

Thank heavens for this storm. It folded around her as she stepped out of the car, isolating her from the rest of the world. Ice scoured her face as she hunched into the wind. The wind beat against her, but she gritted her teeth and stumbled forward. Pain shot up her too-cold legs in fast, knifelike slashes.

The faint glow of light at the edge of the platform seemed too far away.

Just keep going. She concentrated on that light, and it guided her across the confusing world of wind and snow. The world was one icy blur, and she felt alone even though there had to be other travelers struggling against the storm.

You’re safe, Miranda. Keep walking. You can’t quit now. A gust of wind blew her backward.

When she turned around, the train was nothing but the faint glow of lit windows in the dark cold night. It looks like you’ve escaped them. For now.

Suddenly the wind eased, and she stumbled against the protective wall of the ticket booth, closed tight for the night. The snow thinned, and she leaned against the frozen board, struggling to catch her breath.

The shrill train’s whistle blasted apart the night. Heart pounding, she waited to see if anyone was following her. The wind died in a sudden gust, leaving the snow to fall in graceful swirls to the ground and illuminating her to anyone who stood on the icy platform.

Panicked, she stumbled deeper into the shadows. The train shuddered, and the engines roared. The glow of lighted windows shadowed both the falling snow and the edge of the platform where a shadowed figure stood, surveying the night.

The whistle blasted again and he hopped back aboard, his predatory movements familiar. The bounty hunter.

Had he been fooled after all? She pressed deeper into the shadows and held her breath. The clackety-clack of the churning wheels made the whole platform rumble as the train slid into the dark, taking away her adversary.

For now. Relief sliced through her, hard as the blizzard’s wind. She’d escaped him again.

“I’m awful cold, Uncle Trey,” a thin voice belled above the howl of the tireless wind. “Where’s your house?”

“Not far at all,” Trey’s whiskey-warm voice answered. “You hold on to me tight and before you know it, we’ll be sitting in front of a hot fire and maybe, just maybe, I’ll warm up a cup of hot chocolate.”

The veil of snow hid all but the shape of the man and child from her sight. Her chest ached and she wished she could step out. But he’d met the Pinkerton agent face-to-face. He’d seen the bounty hunter. He must have heard she was an heiress and that her father had offered a small fortune for her return.

The sweetness she’d felt with him and Josie remained in her heart. She would not forget them. She would not forget the man who’d made her laugh.

“Miss Miranda? Miss Miranda, is that you?” Josie called out above the sounds of the storm.

What should she do now? Through the curtain of snow and darkness Miranda watched as Trey strode closer. Brushed by darkness, touched by a flicker of light, he held Josie in one steely arm. His Stetson kept both the shadows and the snow from his face.

She couldn’t hide any longer. Miranda stepped out of the darkness. “Hello, Josie. Trey.”

“It is you.” He fought the urge to reach out and touch her, to see if the silk of her hair and the smooth angles of her face were real and not a dream. “The Pinkerton agent saw you jump from the train and—”

Miranda stepped farther out of the shadows, courage and grace. She was caked with ice and snow and shivering so that her teeth chattered. Her skirt was torn beneath the hem of her cloak and blood dotted her sleeve.

He still couldn’t believe it. “We all thought you’d jumped to your death.”

“No, I just made them think I did.” She brushed the snow from her eyes with one mittened hand. She glanced over her shoulder where the train had disappeared, the platform now empty, sheened with thick ice. “Are you going to contact them?”

“Not on my life.” His throat ached. “You’re the woman who gave Josie her good-luck charm.”

The wariness in Miranda’s eyes changed, and she bit her bottom lip. She looked vulnerable, lost in the storm. She brushed a mittened fingertip beneath Josie’s chin. “See? Didn’t I tell you that locket was magic? You’re safe and sound, just like I promised.”

“Your locket sure worked real good.”

Pleasure lit Miranda’s face, and as the storm swirled around her, she looked like an angel, not a ghost, alive, not part of the shadows. “Every time you’re afraid, you just make a wish on that locket, and everything will be fine. I promise.”

She gazed up at him with eyes so wide, his heart stopped beating. “It was good seeing you again, Trey. You take good care of Josie.”

She eased back into the unlit shadows, choosing the darkness to the light. Again she glanced over her shoulder into the darkness, where the tracks stretched unseen for mile upon mile.

Snow tapped to the hard ground, veiling her as she vanished from his sight.

“Wait!” He hurried after her, but the platform felt empty. He couldn’t see anything in the storm.

She was gone, just like that, just as she’d done on the train when he’d thought her dead and lost forever. His chest balled up tight.

“Miranda! Miranda, don’t go.” Josie’s distress keened in the harsh night. “Uncle Trey, you gotta find her.”

“Did you see where she went?”

The wind slammed hard, driving him back a few steps. The blizzard curled around them, dimming the already faint lights of town.

There. He caught a shifting shape and headed down the street, where the livery barn shadowed the wind. “Miranda.”

Her shoulders stiffened. She kept walking. The wind tangled her skirts around her ankles, and she stumbled, but caught herself before he could reach her. “You’re following me.”

“Usually the pretty women chase after me, but in the dark it’s hard to be swayed by my good looks and charm, so I have to chase you.” He held out his free hand and the two bags—his medical bag and her satchel. “I have something of yours.”

“My clothes. Thank you.” She smiled sunshine as the blizzard howled around them. Her gloved fingers brushed his and heat snapped up his arm.

She took her satchel with a flourish. “I figured the Pinkerton men would confiscate this.”

“I just didn’t tell them I had your satchel. It didn’t seem right. We thought you were dead, and those agents were mourning the loss of a fat bonus. I just didn’t have the heart to interrupt their grief.”

“So, I guess you know about the reward.”

She might shine like a rare diamond, but she was lost, alone and afraid. His heart tumbled. He’d always been a soft touch for anyone in need. “Is there a reward? For returning your satchel?”

“You know I meant something else.” She brushed snow from her lashes.

“Right. You’re afraid I’m going to turn you in. Now, I could hand you over to the sheriff, if you turn out to be a dangerous felon, but it’s a bad storm. In another minute all three of us are going to be icicles. So why don’t we just find a diner and have supper.”

Could it be true? Maybe some good luck finally was catching up with her. “Are you saying you’ll forget I’m on the run if I buy you a meal?”

“No. I’m the man. I’ll buy.”

Even in the dark, his grin dazzled. Though he was half frozen in the wind, humor sparkled in his eyes. The strong line of his shoulders and chest blocked the wind and most of the snow. He’d saved her on the train, just like he was doing now.

“Goody!” Josie managed to say, despite her chattering teeth. “I’m real hungry, too. Miranda, do you like fried chicken when it’s really crispy?”

“Absolutely. Trey, she’s cold. You should get her inside.”

“Then come help me. There’s an inn just a few steps from here.”

Miranda hesitated. What should she say? She needed to find a room and keep quiet. Make sure the bounty hunter hadn’t sent one or two of his men to check out the town. “I can’t.”

“Not even for fried chicken?” Josie’s teeth chattered again. “It’s my very favorite.”

Miranda hadn’t wanted anything this much in a long time. “I am looking for a place to stay, and I don’t know where to start. I suppose I could go with you.”

“Then the locket you gave Josie is working.” Trey leaned forward, his chin grazing her cheek, speaking so only she could hear. “Because it brought you to us.”

A roaring fire crackled in the inn’s dining room and drove the ice from her bones. Miranda shrugged out of her cloak, startled when Trey caught the garment by the collar and helped her out of it.

He hung her cloak on a peg by the hearth. Other jackets lined the wall, collecting heat for the other diners in the room.

I shouldn’t be here. She could feel it. She should stay hidden. She may have fooled the bounty hunter, but he would be back. As Trey led them to a table near the hearth, every one of the six customers waved greetings.

This was a close-knit community where a stranger would be noticed.

“Let me.” Trey pulled out her chair, towering over her, mountain-strong.

The breath stalled in her chest. Her skin tingled as she slipped past him. She sat down, knowing he was behind her. Having a meal with him was a very bad idea.

“Do they have mashed potatoes here, too?” Josie gazed up at her uncle, as if she had to make sure. “And not the lumpy kind?”

“The smoothest in the entire town.” He tucked her into the chair beside Miranda. “Does Baby Beth like potatoes, too?”

“She’s a baby, Uncle Trey. She’s got a bottle.” Josie rolled her eyes.

Trey’s grin flashed, sending shafts of heat straight through Miranda’s heart.

The waitress appeared to take their order, on friendly terms with Trey. When she left, Trey leaned across the table, the candle flickering between them, and caught hold of her left hand.

He turned her palm over in his to study a gash, puffy and darkened by dried blood. “Let me bandage this for you. You could use a few stitches.”

“It’s not that deep.” She slipped away from his touch. “I’ll tend to it myself.”

“You’re the independent sort. I noticed that.” He brushed his finger against the edge of her sleeve. “That’s a bad bruise on your wrist. Let me look at it. Did you do that escaping from those agents?”

Fire scorched across her skin, and she hauled her injured hand beneath the table. Out of his reach. “I cut my hand on the rail when I pretended to jump.”

“What did you really do?”

“I swung over to the ladder on the side of the car. It was within reach.”

“Pretty dangerous.” But judging by the light in her eyes, she’d taken pleasure outwitting those Pinkerton agents. “I’ve never met a woman who could climb up the side of a moving train.”

“It wasn’t moving very fast.” She dipped her chin enough to hide the shadows in her eyes.

He wondered what injuries lay within, ones he couldn’t see. “You stayed on the roof the entire train ride?”

“No, I climbed down into the baggage car and took shelter there.”

“Did you hurt your wrist on the ladder, too?”

“You’re relentless, do you know that?”

He pushed back his chair. “Just add it to my list of character attributes.”

“Flaws, you mean. All right, I was crawling across the roof of one of the passenger cars and a gust of wind pushed me into the metal lip on the roof.”

She shrugged, as if she’d done nothing unusual. She didn’t fool him, she was a woman of courage and grit. A combination he admired.

He knelt beside her and cradled her injured hand in his. Her wrist was delicate, the skin like silk. She still felt cold, oh so cold.

“I don’t need a doctor’s help.” She tried to wrestle her arm from him, but she lacked strength.

She was injured. “You could have a fracture, Miranda.”

“I can move my fingers just fine.”

He unbuttoned her sleeve and ran his fingertips across the inside of her wrist. Her skin was purple-tinged, but her wrist wasn’t broken. “Remember what I said on the train?”

“You said a great deal on the train.” Her skin seemed to burn beneath the gentle stroke of his finger.

“I’m your good-luck charm for as long as you need one. So relax and let me take care of this.” He grabbed his medical bag from beneath the table, then worked with efficiency.

Swabbing the wound stung a little. Then he wrapped the white muslin around her palm and between her thumb and forefinger, then around again. His fingertips grazed her skin. She burned and tingled from the contact.

He was strength and gentleness. He was bold and caring. He deftly knotted the last bit of muslin into place and then moved away. It felt as if the heat drained from her body and she thirsted for more of his touch.

She’d never had this reaction to a man before. Why was she feeling this now?

Throughout the meal, Miranda watched the windows. The blizzard beat against the panes with inhuman force. Once, she saw a shadow against the glass but couldn’t be sure.

She tried to relax and enjoy the meal while Trey teased smiles from Josie and tried to do the same to her. But her stomach was twisted so tight she could barely eat. She couldn’t shake the feeling the bounty hunter was out there, even though she’d seen him reboard the train as it departed.

Any number of his men could have disembarked during the storm, as she had. The snow had been so thick, she never would have seen them. What if they are out there looking for me?

Earlier, she felt certain she’d evaded them. But instead of quietly finding a room and staying hidden, she was here in plain sight in the light and the warmth. Anyone could see her through the glass.

This was a bad idea. And growing worse every time Trey flashed her a charming grin. Had she ever seen a more handsome man? She couldn’t think of one. The square cut of his jaw, the strongly chiseled face, the jaunty grin and sparkling eyes, that was just for starters. His shoulders looked sculpted from pure bronze, his personality glittered with humor and radiated compassion.

Every time he flashed that one-sided grin, she felt hotter. More aware of herself as a woman. Sure, she was lonely. But she would have to be in a coma not to respond to this mesmerizing man.

She didn’t even get the chance to pay her share of the bill. The waitress didn’t even bring it. Apparently Trey was a frequent patron because he was billed monthly.

“I never have time to cook,” he explained, draining the last of his coffee cup. “I’m always working.”

“A doctor’s life.” Miranda knew it well. “How long have you been practicing here?”

“Five years. A small-town doctor isn’t a rich man, but I like what I do.” His voice rumbled with affection. “Josie, you’ve got dark circles under your eyes. Time to get you home.”

“Can Miranda come, too?”

“Well, she’s certainly welcome.” Trey quirked one brow.

“No.” She saw right through that look of his. “I’m not staying in your house, Mr. Dashing and Debonair.”

“I guess there’s the small matter of your reputation.”

“Exactly.” Heat flushed her face and a flicker at the window caught her attention. Someone on the boardwalk? Or just her imagination?

Trey watched her carefully. “The wind is getting worse. If this keeps up, the whole town will shut down. It’s almost there now. Look, there’s the sheriff.”

A definite shadow moved outside the window. The door swung open. Frigid wind drove through the dining room. The rugged lawman shouldered the door closed and crunched through the ice thick on the floor. The waitress hurried to speak with him.

Maybe it had been the sheriff outside, and not a bounty hunter.

Trey circled the table and wrapped one hand around the back of her chair. She stood, and she tingled from head to toe. “Are you going to stay here? This is a good inn.”

“I might.” She gazed at the window, remembering the frigid walk from the train depot. “I don’t want to go out again. I just got warm. Do you and Josie have a long walk home?”

“Not far at all.” Trey scooped the little girl up into his arms.

She stifled a yawn. “We don’t hafta go outside again.”

“Sorry, Red.” Trey’s affection came light and gentle. He settled the girl on his hip. “That big yawn is a sign. I’d better get her home and in bed.”

Now that it was time, she didn’t want them to go. For a little while, the loneliness in her heart had fled. But it was creeping back again. And a long lonely night stretched ahead.

Miranda followed Trey through the empty dining room. The lawman left with a bang of the door, and the waitress announced they were locking up early. Sheriff Kelley was closing down the town.

“You’ll be comfortable here. I know the innkeeper.” Trey reached for his jacket. “Rest easy, Miranda. I’ll come by tomorrow.”

She almost told him not to bother but held back the words. Why complicate things? She had her life to fight for. He had Josie to protect.

Trey shrugged into his coat. “Let’s get you wrapped up, Red.”

“Baby Beth needs her cloak, too.”

“She sure does.”

Miranda watched as Trey patiently sorted through the bundle of wool, found the doll’s matching cloak and handed it to Josie. He knelt down beside his niece and helped her into her heavy cloak. With care, he wrapped the scarf around her neck and worked the cap over her head.

His tenderness wasn’t feigned, but came from the heart. As Josie snuggled in Trey’s strong arms, sheltered and safe, Miranda’s arms felt empty, and she couldn’t help dreaming. Couldn’t help wishing that one day there would be a child of her own she could hold and comfort and make the world right for.

“I didn’t see any of those men following you get off the train. I thought you might like to know.” Trey faced the door. “Do you want me to watch over you? I can stay.”

“Not necessary.” She was better off alone. “Good night, you two.”

“’Night, Miranda.” Josie peered over Trey’s shoulder as he pushed out the door.

The night and storm enfolded him, stealing them away from her. The door clamored shut, snow drifted to melt on the floor, and once again she was alone.

“This is your house?” Josie stood in the dark, clutching her doll tight, her voice wobbly.

“It looks better if you can see it.” He felt through the dark for the match tin and lit a lamp. Light danced to life, illuminating the log walls and sparse furniture.

Not a home for a child, that was sure. He’d have to do something about that. First thing tomorrow.

“For tonight, you’re going to sleep in my room.” He didn’t mind the sofa. He swept the girl onto his hip, knowing her leg had to be hurting.

“Don’t I get a room?”

“Sure. But we’ve got to get it all ready for you. I can take you shopping as soon as the storm breaks.” He shouldered open the bedroom door. “You like to shop, right?”

Josie nodded, her fine red curls catching on his whiskered chin.

Already, he’d disappointed her. In truth, he hadn’t been prepared when his sister’s lawyer contacted him. His work occupied every spare moment of his life lately and he’d barely had time to make full-time arrangements with Mrs. Stoltz. Now he regretted not doing more.

He pulled back the dark green quilt. The clean flannel sheets smelled of soap and winter sunshine. “C’mon. Climb in.”

“I’m still wearin’ my clothes, Uncle Trey.” Josie rubbed her eyes, tired and sleepy. “I need my nightie.”

“We don’t have it yet. Your trunks are still at the train station because it’s too dangerous to have someone deliver them tonight. You can sleep in your long underwear. They’ll keep you warm.”

“Okay.” Josie sounded weary, and he knelt to pluck at the row of buttons marching down her back.

In no time the dress and her shoes were off and laid on the seat of the nearby chair. He carried her and Baby Beth to the waiting bed, unlatched her brace and helped her settle between the sheets.

“I could read to you for a while, if you want.” He reached for one of the books on the nearby shelf, looking for one appropriate for a little girl. “I know you like being read to.”

“I’m tired.” Josie rolled on her side, her arms wrapped tight around her doll. “G’night, Uncle Trey.”

“Sleep tight, sweet one.” He pulled the quilt up to Josie’s chin. Wetness dampened his fingers.

“I miss my mama.” Her words came muffled by the covers. “I miss her so much.”

“Me, too, honey.” Trey laid his hand on her back and felt the shake of her sobs. She didn’t want to be held, but stayed huddled in a ball until sleep claimed her.

When he reached to turn down the crystal lamp’s wick, Miranda’s locket caught the light, burning steady and bright. When the wick sputtered and the flame died, the locket held a reflection for just a second longer, then darkness filled the room.