Mail-Order Christmas Brides Boxed Set (25 page)

“I just wish I’d been successful. You’ve been hurt.”

“Nothing to worry about.” Or so she was hoping.

“You hit the floor pretty hard.” He knelt before her, closing the distance between them. His closeness unsettled her, as if he’d chased off every speck of air in the station. Concern softened the rugged planes of his masculine face. “Can you wiggle your fingers?”

“Can you wiggle yours?” Christina asked.

“As a matter of fact I can.” Seriousness clung to him like the snow on his shoulders, but a hint of a smile settled into the corners of his hard mouth. He held out his gloved hands, moving his fingers. “Now your turn.”

“See? They wriggle perfectly.” She waved her fingers on her good hand. “Everything is fine. Now, if you’ll excuse us, Marshal—”

“Gable. Elijah Gable, and I want to see you move your injured hand.” He didn’t budge, his big form blocking her from leaving. “Looks to me you have broken your arm, Miss...?”

“Miss Christina Eberlee, and since I have no funds for a doctor, no, nothing is broken. You let the thief get away with my reticule, remember?” she couldn’t help teasing.

“So this is my fault?”

“Somewhat.”

“Then I suspect I owe you an apology.” He looked up at her through spiky black lashes. “I should have run faster.”

“Exactly.” Why were the corners of her mouth trying to smile? She’d lost everything that mattered the most to her—the keepsakes were all she had left of those she loved. And this man made her want to forget everything with one small hint of his grin. There were good men everywhere, she thought, and it was nice to have a pleasant encounter with a lawman for a change instead of fearing them.

“Here comes the ticket agent.” The marshal’s tone rang with reassurance. “You were injured on their property. They should provide a doctor.”

“Really, I’m fine.” And embarrassed by the attention. Heavens! She shook her head at the uniformed man coming toward her. People were still staring, and the waiting train blared its five-minute warning. “I just need to rest, is all. C’mon, Annabelle.”

“I do think you need medical care, Christina,” Annabelle said.

What she needed was her reticule. She wanted to hold her adoptive mother’s broach in her hand and remember the compassionate woman. She wanted to gaze just once more at the image inside the locket, those small girls’ faces frozen forever in time, a reminder of love and family, things she did not have now.

And hadn’t had in years.

“I’m sure you are right,” she told her friend as she rose from the bench. She ignored her wobbling knees and rubbed at the cut on her hand. Yes, it certainly was bleeding. Fortunately, not too badly. “If it continues to worsen, I’ll have a doctor in Angel Falls look at it. I promise.”

“I’m going to hold you to that.” Annabelle looked as if she meant it.

Warmth filled Christina’s lonely heart. It had been a long time since anyone had cared for her. What a good friend Annabelle was. Indeed.

“I’m the one who failed to run fast enough.” The marshal offered her his arm—and what a strong, reliable arm it was. “The least I can do is to see you onto the train and make sure you’re settled comfortably.”

“No need.” She studied him—his rough, mountain-tough looks took her breath away. “Thank you for your kindness.”

“Just doing my duty.” He jammed his hands into his coat pockets, making a powerful image beneath the fall of lamplight.

Snow swirled around her as she stepped into the bite of the storm. She glanced over her shoulder for one last look at the man. “Goodbye, Elijah Gable.”

“Maybe not, Miss Eberlee.” He tipped his hat, the low tones of his voice stolen as the wind howled around her.

She stumbled after Annabelle, trying not to remember her other less-than-kind encounters with lawmen over the past handful of years. The local sheriff arriving at the homestead to tell of her adoptive father’s deadly fall from a horse. A year later his deputy knocking at the door with eviction papers. Local law enforcement hauling her from the back stall of a livery stable, where she’d curled up for a night’s sleep. Being accused of stealing food from a grocer when her stomach audibly rumbled with hunger—which it wouldn’t have done if she’d been the thief in question.

“Christina?” Annabelle’s cultured voice cut into her thoughts. “Do you need help getting up the steps?”

“No. You’ve been so good to me. Thank you.”

“It’s what friends do for one another.” Annabelle reassured her with a smile.

She climbed into the shelter of the train, shivering from cold and shock, and stumbled to her seat. Her stomach twisted up with a hint of nausea. Fine, perhaps it was time to admit at least to herself that her arm may be broken after all.

After Annabelle settled in next to the window, Christina collapsed beside her, grateful to close her eyes for a moment. She just had to hold on through the rest of the day’s journey, and surely her husband-to-be would help her.

She tried to envision a caring man, gentle-voiced like her adoptive father had been, but her fears returned. She blinked hard, but the image of warts, a bald pate, a severe overbite and all that hair jumped into her mind’s eye and refused to leave.

Lord, let Tom be as wonderful as his letter
.
Please
. Prayer filled her heart, full of so many unspoken wishes for her life. She’d been wandering for so long, since her mother’s death. The hardship of her mother’s medical debts, the loss of her job and the economy had each been a blow.

She was weary of sleeping in stalls and stables, in back doorways and abandoned buildings, working for day wages in hot kitchens, endless fields or drafty hotels. Nothing had worked out and although her faith was strong, she had to wonder why the Lord had put these hardships in her life. Maybe this chance with Tom was a better path, the good future God meant for her. She surely hoped so.

All she really wanted for Christmas was a home, a place to belong.

So why did the marshal’s face slip into her thoughts? Granite strength, chiseled cheekbones, steely jaw.

* * *

“Hello again, Miss Eberlee.” A familiar voice sounded next to her ear. “How’s that arm feeling?” Marshal Gable asked.

“A tad tender.”

“I told the conductor what happened, how you fell on the railroad’s property and convinced them they had an obligation for your care.”

“Oh, I wish you hadn’t.” Pink crept across her face, making her even prettier, if that were possible.

“I brought you a poultice. One of the cooks in the dining car whipped it up for me. Said it would help with the bruising.”

“That’s very kind of you.” Surprise flitted across her gentle features. “You went to too much trouble.”

“Not at all, considering I failed at my professional duties,” he quipped.

“You can’t fool me. You’re not responsible and you failed at nothing. You’re just being nice.”

“Force of habit.”

“That I believe.” She carefully pushed up her sleeve. “Tell me what a Montana marshal is doing on a train?”

“I delivered a wanted man to the proper authorities in Chicago.”

“And you’re on your way home?”

“Yes, but wherever I am, my sworn duty is the same. To serve and protect.” Elijah leaned in to lay the warm, doubled-over cloth on her lean forearm. A terrible bruise discolored her ivory skin. His heart twisted painfully in sympathy—nothing more. No way a rough, tough lawman like him could be interested in a sweet dainty miss like her. No possible way. A combination like that only spelled trouble.

“My, it feels so much better.” Her cornflower-blue gaze communicated her appreciation.

Looking into her honest eyes made his heart tug strangely. It surprised him, considering he’d closed up his heart to softer feelings long ago. He ought to stand up, head back down the aisle to his seat three cars down and forget about this young lady with her heart-shaped face, rich brown curls and compelling eyes. But did he?

No, he stayed where he was, blocking the aisle, kneeling beside her. “I broke my arm a few years back. I was riding on regular patrol with two other marshals. One was a trainee, a real greenhorn, and I figured I’d give him a few tips. So there I was instructing him on the proper demeanor of a Montana Range Rider and my horse startled. He reared, tossed me in the air like I was a sack of potatoes and wham, I hit the ground.”

“Pride goeth before a fall?”

“Something like that. I got up, dusted myself off and realized my hat brim was bent, I’d broken my arm and ripped out the back seam of my trousers. I was the laughingstock of the unit.” He chuckled, remembering the humiliation. “It took years to live down, especially the trouser seam. I had to ride all the way to Cedar Peak with my union suit showing. Did I mention it was winter? It was snowing, and I was mighty chilly.”

“You’re making that up.”

“It’s the truth. God willing, I learned my lesson so that doesn’t happen again. But seeing as I’m a man and prone to mistakes, it’s anyone’s guess how long it will be before my dignity takes a fall again.”

“I’m beginning to think you aren’t terribly good at your job, Marshal.” Humor put little sparkles in her eyes and curved her rosebud mouth into the most amazing smile he’d ever seen.
Lovely
was too mild a word to describe her and
beautiful
too common. Miss Christina Eberlee was extraordinary. She tilted her head to one side, studying him intently. “First you can’t catch the boy with my reticule and now you confess you can’t stay on your horse.”

“I appreciate you not mentioning the torn seam. The guys still tease me every now and then. The broken arm mended and I bought a new hat, but my pride has never been the same.” His chuckle died away as a spark lit up his heart, giving light where there had only been darkness before.

All because of her smile.

“Miles City, next stop!” the conductor called from the end of the car.

“Miles City,” Christina repeated, turning to her traveling companion and exchanging words he could not hear and didn’t try to.

He couldn’t say why he felt the way he did, unable to look away, noticing every little thing about her. The elegant curve of her slender shoulder, the graceful column of her neck and the curl of her dark eyelashes against her cheek. The spark in his heart continued to burn like a newly lit candle in the void that had become his heart.

He hadn’t felt anything like this since his fiancée died well over a dozen years ago.

“Promise me you’ll write.” Christina’s dulcet voice reached him as the train slowed with a squeal of brakes.

“Of course. Christina, we must stay friends.” The other woman spoke as the car jerked to a stop. “This is such a fine adventure we are both on. You must write and tell me what Tom is like.”

“And you must tell me about Adam.” Christina stood and stepped out of the way so her friend could leave. “You’ve been a blessing to me on this trip, Annabelle. Know I’m praying for your marriage. May it be filled with great happiness.”

“I’ll be praying for you, as well.” Annabelle squeezed Christina’s good hand before walking regally away, disappearing down the stairs.

They were all alone now. His pulse galloped as he debated taking the empty seat next to her and continuing their conversation. Maybe he’d buy her lunch because she didn’t have the funds for a meal, what with her reticule gone. That felt like his fault, too.

“I hope she gets every wonderful thing she deserves.” Christina slipped into her seat, taking care to readjust the poultice. With a flick of her gorgeous brown locks, she strained to look out the window, where the falling snow had ceased, giving way to gray skies. “Oh, look at those lovely children she gets to be a mother to. Like me, she’s a mail-order bride.”

“A
what?
” His pulse screeched to a stop. He couldn’t have heard her right. “A mail-order
bride?
”

“I’m on my way to meet my husband-to-be.” Christina blew out a shaky breath, sounding a little apprehensive, a little hopeful.

“Is that right?” His voice sounded tinny, even to his own ears. “You’re getting married, huh?”

“That’s why I’m on this train. I’m going home—to my new home. Someplace I belong and will never have to leave.” Hope lit her up. “I’m hoping to marry on Christmas Eve day.”

“Well, congratulations.” Disappointment hit like a blow. He swallowed hard. So, she was spoken for. “Best wishes.”

“Thank you. It won’t be long and I’ll be meeting Tom for the first time.”

“Tom.” The man had a name. He fought to ignore the squeeze of pain in his chest where the light dimmed, sputtering like a candle burning out. “I pray he’s a good husband to you. You deserve that.”

“You’re a kind man, Elijah. I’m glad we had this chance to meet.”

“The pleasure has truly been mine.” He tipped his hat, taking a step away. He didn’t tell her that for twelve long years his heart had been as cold as stone, as dark as a starless night.

Until her.

He spotted a man with a medical bag making his way down the aisle. “Here’s the doctor I asked the conductor to find. You take good care of yourself and that arm. Have a nice life now, you hear?”

“Yes, sir—Elijah.” His name on her lips had never sounded so good. His heart lurched as he tipped his hat to her.

So, that was that. He’d learned the hard way years ago that love was all about timing. Once again, he’d felt the right things at the wrong time. As he headed to his seat, leaving Christina behind, the wintry chill in the air burrowed deep into him and would not leave.

Chapter Two

A
ngel Falls. Chilly air burned Christina’s face as she stepped from the train onto the platform. Ice crunched beneath her shoes as she savored her first look at the town that was to become her home. Snow mantled the train station’s roof and clung to evergreen boughs. It frosted the rooflines of a street of shops and a few small shanties across the way. A gray sky stretched overhead from horizon to horizon and the shining peaks of the distant Rocky Mountains rose up to disappear into the low clouds.

Home.
The word filled her with possibilities. She gripped the red handle of her black satchel more tightly with her good hand, hardly aware of the hustle of folks climbing off the train behind her. She searched the small crowd for Tom’s face. Let him not be too hairy, she hoped. Her palms felt damp against the wool of her green mittens as she waited for her husband-to-be to step forward and claim her.