Christmas Male (5 page)

"Nice to meet you, Miss—-?" Pa called out, his brows arched with a question.

"Miss Carpenter," she answered pleasantly. She really did seem rather sweet. "But it's Maggie to you both. Thank you so much for your kindness."

Miles's chest hitched strangely when she walked away. The howling wind whipped at her, tangling her skirts and hair, knocking her slightly off course. A blizzard was brewing—he recognized that low, eerie note in the wind that always meant one was on the way. Where would she go? There wasn't a hotel in this town, and she couldn’t stay at the depot forever, not if the blizzard kept the eastbound train from pulling in. And even if the train made it, how would she buy a ticket if she was low on money? He chewed on his bottom lip, not liking this, not liking this at all.

And not liking that he didn't like it. He opened his mouth to call her back, but Pa landed on the step beside him and called out after her.

"Come back here, Maggie, and we'll help you figure things out." Pa looked ready to leap into the snow after her. "Say you were my daughter. I wouldn't want you stranded alone in a strange town. Let us help you."

She stopped, stood still for a moment as if debating. When she turned around, she was flocked in white and shivering.

Against his will, Miles's chest tightened. Bethleigh would be having a fit by now, railing on about the snow and cold and what about me? Sylvia would have been manipulating to get everything she could out of the situation. But not Maggie. She looked miserable in the cold, and still undecided about accepting help. How about that? An honest lady. Miles sighed, resigned, and stepped into the punch of wind and snow after her.

"Come on," he said, reluctantly holding out his hand to steady her before the wind blew her over. "You can't walk in this, the storm is only going to get worse. If you can't accept charity, then consider the train ticket a loan. Pay me back in installments when you can. How's that?"

He felt relief move through her when she placed her gloved hand in his. Such a small hand, womanly and slender, his heart skipped a beat. Stupid heart. He shook his head, knowing this was how he'd gotten his heart broken in the first place. Good thing he was wise enough not to follow his feelings. Good thing he was strong enough to stand his ground.

"That's a really nice offer." She gazed up at him, a grateful smile touching the corners of her mouth. Hell, the sadness in those eyes got him. His pulse lurched and there was no stopping it. She brushed snow off her face. "I just hadn't given any thought to what I'd do if this didn't work out. I was so sure of Chester. I guess I just wanted everything he wrote to be true so badly."

Pain shone in her eyes, raw and honest. It hit him hard, burrowing deep. He felt the ghost of a similar pain cinch hard in his chest.

"You wanted to believe the best." He tugged her toward the boardwalk. "I did the same once, and lived to regret it."

"Did she break your heart?" Sympathetic, those blue eyes. Caring. Not an ounce of guile in them.

Maybe that's why she affected him, why he answered.

"Yes," he confessed, voice low, so his father waiting on the steps wouldn't hear. "I had it happen twice. Both ladies decimated it."

"I know the feeling." Maggie's hand, so small compared to his own, squeezed his, and it was his undoing. He clamped his jaw shut, hauled her through the storm, unable to keep hold of his bitterness. Not when it came to her. She'd been hurt too—it wasn't women who had a monopoly on harming people. He thought of the Collins brothers and gritted his teeth. Anger burned. It wasn't right how she'd been mocked and tricked.

"We'll get you headed home tonight," he promised. "Back to your family."

"Not so fast," Pa called out, reaching out to take Maggie's other hand. "You might get on the eastbound train, it could make it here before nightfall with the crews already working to keep the tracks clear, but you won't get much farther."

"I won't?" Maggie's heart-shaped face crinkled with concern. "Well, I would be on the train. I'd be warm and comfortable. I'd have supper in the dining car. I'll be okay."

"No, no, I can't have that." Pa had a glimmer of mischief in his dark eyes. His mouth quirked up in the corners, full of trouble. "I won't be able to sleep a wink tonight worrying about you trapped on a snowbound train. No, you're under the McClintock men's protection now."

"I am?" She arched a brow. "I didn’t see that happen. There was no sign, no notice, no announcement made."

"It happened the minute Miles stepped in to help you." Pa grinned, looking pleased with himself. "McClintock men don't walk away from a lady in distress."

"But I'm not in distress," she pointed out practically. "I slept on the train on my trip here. I can do it again on the way back."

"But not in a storm, with a train stalled on the tracks." Pa wasn't going to give up apparently. "You would be a target for bears, mountain lions, even wolves."

"I doubt the wildlife will be able to open the car doors, Pa." Miles frowned. He saw exactly where this was going. "She'll be fine. I'll get her a first-class ticket."

But Pa didn't pay him any heed. He was determined to prove his point. "A first-class ticket doesn't mean she'll be perfectly safe. There are outlaws, robbers and kidnappers to consider."

"My sister Callie was robbed and kidnapped from a train last August." Maggie blew out a sigh. She was nothing but a swatch of white, a shadow in the worsening storm, but a note of resignation rang in her soft voice. "It was a horrifying experience for her. That's something to consider. Maybe I should stay, but I'm not sure I should go with two strange men either, even if one of them stood up for me."

"Don't worry, you'll be perfectly safe with us. Ask anyone." Pa turned around, searching the span of boardwalk. There was no one around, but that didn't stop him. "Come into the feed store with us. Ask the owners and see what they have to say about us. How about that?"

Miles squeezed his eyes shut, knowing it was the right solution. She was safest with them in this town full of bachelors, most of them rough men who worked for the railroad. But that didn't mean he liked it.

Damn. Looked like that rich bastard was taking her home. The man pulled the curtain back farther, peering out the saloon's only window. Fury beat in his gut. He hated Miles with a passion. Men like him had everything and thought they had the right to push everyone else around. Well, not this time. Resolved, he crooked his neck, keeping the pretty little miss in sight as she sashayed up the steps, smiling at old man McClintock.

She had a stunning smile. Look at the way she walked, back straight, dainty shoulders back, her neck a long, graceful column. That was all easy to tell even with her layers of winter clothing. The man bit his bottom lip, pondering his options. A single lady on her own, naive to the world. An innocent—you just had to look at her prim, wide-eyed manner to know no man had ever taken his pleasure between her thighs. He felt his crotch twitch in response—clear proof he wouldn't mind being the man to breach her virgin flesh.

A smile stretched his face, put a little beat in his heart. He wanted her. Bad. He watched her skirts sway as she swirled to a stop next to old man McClintock as he opened the door for her. Beautiful little thing with that slope of a nose, big blue eyes and blond curls. Why, she'd go for a hell of a lot of money. He had friends who owned saloons in other small towns up and down the rail line who were always looking for fresh whores. After he was done with her, of course. A woman all alone, desperate for marriage, without a man to protect her. She was easy prey. Since she hadn't taken him up on his offer, he'd have to get her away from the McClintocks first.

Down the boardwalk, she swept out of sight into one of the shops. His crotch gave another twitch. He'd go after her tonight. He'd break in quietly, into the McClintock's mansion and snatch her away. His breath caught with anticipation. Already excitement charged through his veins. He'd take her, he'd break her, and he'd love every minute of it.

Whatever reservations Maggie had spending the night in a stranger's home vanished on the ride away from town. The storm began raging with such ferocity, the trees on either side of the snowy road roared and cracked, like monsters fighting in the dark.

She'd spent most of her growing up years on the plains, where blizzards howled across the land in desolate, howling gusts. But here, in the mountains, it was different. Almost terrifying. Any minute a tree or a huge limb could come crashing down on top of them, but Winston McClintock's team of horses didn't seem troubled as they hurried along, following the dark road around a corner.

The thick trees gave way to a clearing, but the storm made it impossible to see anything. Only a glimpse of flickering light that grew larger and steadier as they neared. Maggie blinked ice and snow off her lashes at the sight of a grand log home, dark except for a large bay window glowing lemony with lamplight. The glow revealed a shadowed covered porch in front, which would be lovely come warmer weather.

"Go on in, hurry." Winston pulled down his scarf, his smile encouraging. "Don't even bother with knocking. My father likely won't hear it over the storm. Just run straight up the steps and let yourself into the house."

"Okay." So, there were three generations of McClintock men residing in the house. Since she didn't want the horses to stand too long in these frigid winds, she slipped out quickly from beneath the warm buffalo robe, gritted her teeth to keep them from chattering and plunged into the snow. The sleigh skidded away, and behind it she saw Big Jack (pulling Miles's sled). The horse (not the man) offered her a friendly nod of hello as he paraded by. Maggie caught sight of a hulking man's shadow holding the reins—Miles—but then the darkness and storm claimed him and he was gone.

That man unsettled her and she didn't know why. The arctic winds blew away her body heat, driving ice clear to her bones. She quaked so hard, she could hardly climb the snowy steps. She stumbled across the porch, grateful to have someplace safe for the night. If she'd learned anything in the feed store from the owner, the owner's wife, his five kids and his mother-in-law, it was that the McClintock men were upstanding, the best sort. And it was only for a night or two, right? Just until the train was running again. How bad could that be? She stomped snow off her boots and grabbed the doorknob.

One turn and she tumbled into the house. Warmth immediately wrapped about her. Wonderful, delicious warmth. She soaked it in and closed the door behind her, leaning against it, breathless. Think of how cold the train would be (if it reached the Pine Haven depot). Even with the stove at one end of the car going full blast, it wouldn't be as comfortable as this. Yes, it was a good decision to stay here for the night.

"Chester Collins, that had better not be you," a man's voice rang out, thundering from down the hallway. The unmistakable ratchet of a rifle echoed above the drum of footsteps. "You keep your dirty paws off my scotch—Oh!"

A tall man with thick silver hair, a short tidy silver beard and a shotgun marched into sight, standing in the light from a wall sconce. He had Miles's hazel eyes and strong facial bones—sharp, high cheekbones, powerful, angular jaw, straight, perfect nose. The old man spotted her and lowered his gun, befuddled.

"Well, now, you're not Chester Collins, are you?" He seemed friendly and nice, like a good man who'd lived life the right way. A man you could trust. "Where did you come from, missy?"

"Your son and grandson came to my rescue." She unwound the scarf from her face, felt the ice and snow crumble away, sifting to the floor. "I was stuck in town."

"With nowhere to stay." The tall man leaned his rifle against the wall. "Sure, Pine Haven needs a hotel or something, that's for sure, but I have to say, this is a first. Come on in, dear. Take that coat off and we'll get you warmed up in no time. I'm John McClintock, by the way. Follow me."

He had a nice, warm smile, open and friendly. She felt at ease with him instantly. He was so like her own grandfather had been, easy-going and amiable, someone who wouldn't hurt a fly if he didn't have to. She crossed the spacious foyer, trying not to gawk at the grandness of the entryway. It had a high ceiling and to her right, a wide staircase rose up in a curve to a spacious looking second floor. She glimpsed several doors to numerous rooms wherever she looked. This was a very prosperous family. She felt out of place and a little shabby in her handed down coat.

"I'm Maggie Carpenter." She followed him into the front room, where a big fire raged in an impressive-sized hearth. The chimney dominated one wall, a tall column of gray river rock. Expensive, comfortable sofas and overstuffed chairs were placed throughout the room, situated for conversation in front of the fire or perhaps reading at either the large picture window or the bay nook. The glass had gone white with snow, but when the storm was done she had no doubt there would be amazing views. The only thing missing was any sign of Christmas. There were no decorations, no garland or ribbons and no tree. That seemed a little lonely, somehow.