Christmas Male (2 page)

Snow was falling fast now in tiny, airy flakes driving on a hard wind. She shivered, watching it fall so fast, sticking to everything in sight, even her sisters. Emma, Abby and Dee waved, but she hardly had a chance to wave back as the train jerked to a start and they were rolling away, leaving the platform and all she loved behind. Sadness hit her hard and she hung her head, blinking back tears.

More love waited ahead of her, and that made the ache in her heart lessen. She reached into her reticule and pulled out Chester's latest letter.

My deer deer bride to be, (he wasn't a good speller)

Cant wate to meet u. U ar my dreem com tru and al my happynes. Cant wate to treet u lik a kween. U ar my hart.

Al the luv in the wurld,

Chester

Maggie's hand landed on her heart again. Oh, her dear, dear, Chester. Love filled her, that amazing affection that had grown right from his very first letter. How could she not have been taken by the humble, hard-working man who'd raised two brothers after their father's death? He'd left school when he was eleven to work in the mines to support his family. That commitment right there had told her everything she needed to know about the man. He'd worked hard, pulling himself up by his bootstraps, to be a part owner of the lumber mill where he now worked.

Over the past few months, his younger brothers had both written her, describing him as good looking, even handsome, modest and an incredible man. A man longing for a wife and family in a part of the territory where marriageable women were few and far between.

As she traced her fingertips across Chester's written words, joy flooded her chest, made the love she felt for him glow. She gazed out the window, watching the snow fall, and let herself dream. Oh, the happy life she and Chester were going to have together. She couldn't wait.

Pine Haven, Montana Territory

Miles McClintock had worse days. It wasn't blizzarding, for instance. He wasn't caught and dying in an avalanche. He wasn't standing at the altar in front of family and friends waiting for his bride who never came—

Hell, he wasn't gonna think about that ever again. He ground his molars together, drove the ax into the ponderosa pine that had fallen across the road to town, and cursed himself for even thinking of her. He'd banished that day, that woman from his brain forever. He would take a hot poker to his head and scorch those memories from his mind for an eternity to come—
if
it were possible.

As it wasn't, he drove the ax blade deep into the tree's bark, into the heart of the wood. Bright honey rings stared back at him, as he extracted the blade. Another two blows and the tree broke in two. Miles swiped snow from his lashes, tossed the ax in the back of the wagon box and remembered his days living in Manhattan. New York City didn't often get snow quite as deep as this, and he'd never had to cut a tree out of the road before he could head to the mercantile, but being out West had its merits. Mostly, that his friends and most of his family were not here. Their caring sympathy had nearly done him in. No, Montana Territory was a better place to be, trees, copious snow and all.

"Hey, what's the hold up?" an impatient male voice shouted from behind Big Jack, who swiped his tail and lifted his head most alarmingly. The giant draft gelding sidestepped nervously in his traces.

That could only mean one thing. The Collins brothers. Miles bit back a groan, grabbed hold of a sturdy branch and heaved with all his might. The top half of the fallen tree eked incrementally across the snow behind him. Damn, it was heavy.

"Yeah, get that big-assed horse outta the road!" Another equally obnoxious voice yodeled through the air.

Drunk. The permanent state of the Collins men. Miles rolled his eyes, dug in his boots and heaved with all his strength. Half of the giant tree inched off the road.

"Make way!" One of the Collinses bellowed.

"Comin' through." A second Collins roared.

Miles frowned. What was wrong with those folks? If he wanted noise, he would have stayed in New York City instead of retreating all the way out here to the middle of nowhere. He dropped the branch, the tree rustled to a rest on the snowy shoulder of the road and the Collins' sorry looking gelding, the one they'd won in a poker tournament, ambled into the ditch around Big Jack, doggedly pulling the sled loaded with Collins men. No saying why the sled didn't turn over on the slope, but there was nothing like the luck of the drunk.

"Got to get to the whiskey," Chester Collins explained as he drove past, clutching the reins in a loose-limbed, absent sort of way.

Little wonder the gelding didn't take advantage and run like hell for Canada just to escape. Heaven knew
he
would. Miles didn't bother to tip his hat in greeting, as was the custom in this part of the country. He didn't think well enough of the Collins brothers to go to the bother.

"Pompous jackass," Delbert Collins mumbled to his brothers. "Thinks he's better'n us."

"Well, anyone would be better than you, Del," Lester Collins joked, slapping his brother upside the head. The three inebriated brothers roared hilariously, their sled skidding down the snowy road and out of sight.

"Jackasses." Another male voice rang out dismissively. Winston McClintock circled around the far side of Big Jack. Only then did Miles notice his father's horse and sleigh in the road parked where the Collins brothers had been. "I thought we'd escaped all the fools in the world by coming out here, but I'm learning there's bound to be at least one anywhere you go."

"Or three." Miles nodded in brief greeting to his father, grabbed hold of the other half of the tree and heaved. The pine groaned, the heavy trunk didn't seem to want to budge. "Are you going to stand there or help me?"

"Guess I'll have to do something since you put it like that." An amused grin hooked the corner of Pa's mouth. A man past his prime, but he didn't look it. Winston McClintock grabbed hold of a thick branch and pulled. "I was hoping to conserve energy. At my age, moving something like this will burst a muscle."

"And not at my age?" Miles asked wryly, aware of every one of his thirty-five years as his muscles burned.

"Ah, you're young, got plenty of good years yet." Winston winked as the tree moved one more foot and they both released it. It rustled and shook, tucked up against the steep hillside. "I didn't know you were heading to town or I would have offered you a ride."

"It was a last minute decision." Miles dusted the snow off his gloves, pounding through the snow toward Big Jack. "I thought I could make the train, but looks like now I might miss it."

"Got your book done, did you?" Winston hurried to keep up. "Haven't seen you for the past week. Spending all your time locked up in that room scribbling away isn't smart. You can't live your life that way."

"Why not? It's working fine for me." Miles's defenses went up, he could feel thick, iron-hard bars wrapping around his chest. He didn't let anyone in, not even his father. "I'm happy."

"Son, you aren't happy. You're existing but not living." Concerned furrows dug into Winston's face, drawing deep lines around his mouth and emphasizing the network of grooves around his hazel eyes. "You need to get out there and find another woman, marry her, start your life over again."

"The last thing I need is to find a woman, trust me." He should have known this was coming. He leaped onto his wagon seat, pulled up the buffalo robes and grabbed the reins. At the first shake of the leather straps, Big Jack leaped into motion, as if understanding the urgency of the situation. They whizzed by Winston, who stood there on the road's shoulder with his hands planted on his hips and a disapproving look on his face.

Find a woman. Miles shook his head, snorting in derision. Yeah, he needed a woman like he needed a hole in his head. That's why he moved to Montana Territory—to get away from every woman in existence. There were hardly any females in this rugged area of the Rocky Mountains. A few married women, sure, and some really old grandmother types, but that was it. A man's paradise.

And it
was
paradise. Despite the snow hurling from the gray cloud-laden sky at a fast and furious pace, it was a beautiful place. He looked around, savoring nature's majesty—the white slopes of the mountains, the sheer beauty of the forests, the sky so close you could almost reach up and touch it—it was unparalleled. A peaceful, respectful hush settled across the landscape.
This
was a place where a man could think. A man didn't have to be anything but who he was. There were no airs here, no pretenses, no social pressures and customs and expectations. Here, a man could be thirty-five years old, unmarried and no one thought he was wasting his life.

Well, except for his father. And his grandfather, but that was another story.

Big Jack rounded the final corner that brought town into sight. Pine Haven was a little way station along the mighty Northern Pacific Railroad, a tiny settlement in the middle of the Rockies. Gray smoke curled from the chimneys of the few homes and cabins lined up along the residential lanes. The road circled around to the main street where a few shops clustered on one side of the road and the railroad tracks on the other. Currently, a train idled along the tiny platform, pointed in the wrong direction for the eastbound train.

Hmm, that was a problem. Miles frowned. He'd been expecting to meet the westbound train. He hurried to park Big Jack, grabbed his heavy envelope and rushed up to the ticket window.

"The train is running late," Old Bill explained, taking Miles's package and stamp money. In a town this small, the depot served as the post office too. Bill's bushy, handlebar mustache hid most of his frown. "It's this storm. Guess the tracks had to be dug out not once, but twice. Word is the train is idling halfway down the mountain."

"Figures." If he'd known that, he wouldn’t have been in such a hurry to move that tree. Ignoring the ache in his back, Miles knocked snow from his hat brim and peered through the dizzying white downfall toward the west, where the forest of trees hid the uphill grade of the tracks. Somewhere out there, a crew was busy shoveling away, doing their best to try to keep the trains running on schedule.

"Yep, they just sent a second crew out not long ago." Bill set the package aside and counted back Miles's change. "And the storm's getting worse, by the looks of it. Hope you get home before the blizzard hits."

"I have a few quick errands and then I'm heading home." Miles blew out a sigh and pocketed his change. "You'll make sure my package gets on the next train?"

"You bet. That's what they pay me for. Say, is this here another book?" Bill's black eyes lit up, beneath bushy eyebrows. "I liked your last one. All those outlaws getting rounded up in the end, near to put a tear in my eye. Will this one be a western too?"

"Yes. Hoping this one feels more authentic." Miles backed away, tipping his hat in farewell. "Maybe moving all the way out here will help with that."

"Maybe. Hey, don't leave yet. I've got some mail—" That's as far as Bill got. He stopped mid-sentence, staring at something behind Miles's elbow. "Well, howdy there, Miss. You look lost. Did you just get off the train?"

"Yes, I'm sorry to interrupt," a soft, feminine voice apologized. "This is the Pine Haven station, right?"

"Yes, that's what it says there on the sign, Miss," Bill said politely, in his grandfatherly way. "The train's gettin' ready to depart. You ought to jump back on before it takes off without you."

"Oh, this is my stop," the woman continued. Behind her, other passengers from the train were re-boarding, having gotten out to stretch their legs and perhaps grab a smoke for a few moments. "I'm in the right place, but I was supposed to meet someone. He's not here. Is there somewhere I could wait for him out of the cold?"

Miles rolled his eyes. That was a woman for you. Clearly there was only the small ticket booth and office. Since it looked like this might take a while, he frowned at Bill. "I'll come back later."

"No need, it'll just take a minute." Bill nodded dutifully. "Now, young lady, I suppose I could let you stay in my office, but it's small and against railroad policy."

"Well, I wouldn’t want you to break any rules." The woman stepped up to the other side of the window, bringing her into Miles's view. She was a little thing, willowy and petite, with cascading blond hair and a heart-shaped face. Spun sugar couldn’t be sweeter than the way this woman looked.

Miles wasn't fooled. He knew the true nature of women—any woman—so he wasn't as charmed as poor Bill, who likely looked at her and saw a helpless, innocent thing like his granddaughter.

"Oh, and this gentleman was first in line," she said in a melodic voice. "Please finish helping him first."

"Don't do me any favors." The bitter words popped out, surprising even him. Miles glowered. Well, who could blame him? Bethleigh had been a blond, sweet thing—just the sweetest. At least, that's how she'd seemed at first and on the surface. Miles had learned a great deal about adorable-seeming women. He didn't much care if the little blond gave a gasp of surprise at his surliness or if Bill's bushy eyebrows shot up to the brim of his cap in disapproval. No one was getting past his defenses—no one. He would never be fooled like that again—not even for an instant while standing on a train platform. "I'll come back for my mail."