Mail-Order Christmas Brides Boxed Set (27 page)

“He does.” Elijah led the way down the opposing street, walking with quick certainty. Masculinity radiated from him with quiet assuredness.

He seemed like a man comfortable with who he was, a man sure of what he stood for. Soft feelings rose within her, but that was only natural. It was impossible not to admire a man cradling an injured boy in his arms, keeping the child tucked safely to his chest for warmth.

Yes, simply a little admiration, that’s all, she told herself, praying Tom would be like Elijah—good, decent, strong and caring. A man who would cradle their children in his arms one day.

“What is a child that age doing running around on his own?” she asked as they hurried down the boardwalk. “Why didn’t his parents come running?”

“Good question. Maybe they are busy in one of the shops.” He nodded in recognition of a man in a dark coat riding a fast-moving horse in the direction of the wagon accident. A star glinted on his chest. “There’s the sheriff. He’d spot anyone searching for a missing child here in town and send them on to the clinic.”

“Oh, the boy’s waking up.” Christina leaned in closer with her soft lavender fragrance and sweetness. Her gleaming hair held highlights of cinnamon in the late day’s light. As the brim of her blue hat brushed his jaw, places long dark in his heart brightened.

He didn’t feel the weight of the boy or the cold of the wind or hear the clatter and chaos echoing down the street. All he could see was her. The cute slope of her nose, the big wide blue eyes focused on the child in his arms and her caring expression burnished her, making her more incredible than anything in their snowy surroundings.

“Hello, there.” She smiled into unfocused, blinking eyes. “Do you remember what happened?”

The boy groaned in pain and rolled against Elijah’s chest, burrowing closer as if to his parent. Perhaps the boy was confused. Not surprising he would be after being hit like that. Elijah ignored a stab of longing. The promise of a son had died with his fiancée long ago.

“What is your name?” she asked gently, not wanting to startle the child.

No answer. The boy took one look at her and hid his face against Elijah’s jacket.

“That’s quite a lump you have on your head.” Her gentle attempt to talk to the boy garnered nothing. The child didn’t move.

Was he crying? Or just trembling from the cold? Elijah couldn’t tell. He glanced down the street, half expecting to see a worried mother dashing down the boardwalk after him. Nothing.

“Guess he doesn’t want to talk to us,” Elijah quipped. “Must be a good sign?”

“Must be. Does your head hurt?” she persisted.

Nothing. The boy was probably just scared, Elijah thought.

“You’ll be all right,” he reassured him. “We’ll get you looked at. Doc Frost’s a nice doctor. He’s got two girls about your age.”

Still no response. The boy wasn’t bleeding and he didn’t seem badly hurt. All good things in his favor.

As Elijah glanced over his shoulder one more time, he spotted something else beyond the crowd of onlookers. A man strode across the street coming from the direction of the train depot. His jaw set, his posture stiff, his quick steps angrily stalking toward the hotel.

Tom Rutger? He winced, not wanting it to be so. The foreboding lodged in his chest told him otherwise. Christina’s groom had come to claim her. The man stalked into the hotel and disappeared, but likely he’d reemerge in a minute or so. That was all the time he had left with Christina.

“Maybe this is where we go our separate ways.” He stopped in front of the clinic door. “Go on back to the hotel.”

“But I want to stay until his parents come.” Torn, she set down her satchel and ran her fingertips across the boy’s head. The child wouldn’t look at either of them, stiff with tension.

“He needs a doctor now.” He clutched the child to him, taking a step back. “I can manage it from here.”

“But I feel as if I should do more.”

“I know, but the child is my duty now. Look, your Tom is coming.”

“You’ll let me know what happens, right? I’ll be at the hotel. You could drop by and tell me his parents found him.” She scooped up her satchel. “I want to make sure his story gets a happy ending, too.”

A happy ending sounded nice, but stopping by to see her? Not a good idea. He opened the door instead of answering her. He would make no promises he didn’t intend to keep. Heat from the potbellied stove inside the clinic washed over him, but he shivered as if with cold. Probably it had to do with the brawny, blond-headed man storming up the boardwalk behind Christina. Dark eyes bored into his. No way to miss the clear message of possession.

“Thanks for your assistance, Miss Eberlee.” Elijah nodded in farewell, reined in his feelings and stepped into the clinic. The boy sniffed against his chest, clinging hard. Probably worried about what his ma would say once she caught up to him. “Goodbye.”

“Goodbye.” The last daylight vanished, the colors and light of the world bled away and stole his last view of her. The brightness in his heart turned to black as he let the door swoosh shut behind him and handed the boy over to the doc.

Chapter Three

“C
hristina?” The voice behind her rumbled in a cool tenor. “Brown coat, blue hat, green mittens. Carrying a black satchel with a red handle. Just like your letter promised.”

“Tom.” Breathless, she spun to face him. Anticipation pounded through her like merry jingle bells. This was her husband-to-be. The man she would spend the rest of her days with, the man who would be her everything.

The last dregs of twilight made it hard to see him. He stood before her in shadow. His beefy shoulders spoke of strength and capability. The outline of his Stetson hinted at a hardworking man who spent his time in the Montana sun.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” she breathed, charmed when he swept her satchel from the boardwalk for her. “I had meant to wait at the depot for you, but the marshal said it would be cold and dark, as there were no more trains expected.”

“I was a mite disappointed to find no one there.” He had a pleasant voice with a vulnerable sound to it, as if he harbored great feeling deep beneath his rough exterior.

A wedge of lamplight reflected when a shop’s door opened, giving her a brief glimpse of his jawline—hairless. At least she didn’t have to worry about a foot-long beard. Definitely a good sign.

“I was on my way to the hotel when a boy was struck by a startled horse,” she explained.

“I figured the hotel might be where you was headed.” Instead of backtracking, Tom stepped toward her and kept on going. “Sorry to say, you won’t be stayin’ there. I got ya a place at the boardinghouse.”

“Oh, I didn’t know.” She stopped herself from wondering about Elijah. It was the boy who troubled her, who’d burrowed into the marshal’s coat like a baby bunny caught in a snare. He’d looked trapped, defeated. Determined to check on him as soon as she could, she tucked her aching arm against her side and followed Tom down the snowy boardwalk. “You and I didn’t have much time to exchange letters, with your proposal and train ticket arriving the way it did.”

“I didn’t dare risk waiting too long. I knew a lady like you had options. I didn’t want to lose out, not again.” Sadness ticked across his shadowed face and weighed down his voice.

“What do you mean, again?”

“I’ve been lookin’ for a wife for some time. In fact, you’re the third lady I’ve proposed to this year.” He offered his gloved hand to help her off the boardwalk and onto the street.

Her heart didn’t leap at their first touch. Her soul didn’t whisper to her,
he’s the one
, as she’d hoped. But she also knew it would be improbable that she and Tom would be a match at first. Love took time and nurturing. But she wanted to love him. It was enough that he stayed beside her, protecting her from the brunt of the wind the way a true gentleman would.

“I took too much time thinking things over with those other ladies,” he explained. “By the time I got around to writing, first one and then the other had already been claimed. With you I wrote right away. You were too much to miss out on.”

That touched her. Her heart gave a little sigh. She wanted to be wanted. She wanted to matter to someone. She held tightly to his hand as she swept up onto the boardwalk. Light spilled over them, showing him fully for the first time.

Rustic. His fur coat made him look like a bear. His wide-brimmed hat hid most of his round face. He’d never be called handsome with his rather large nose and prominent chin, but his eyes were a friendly hazel and his muscular shoulders gave him a strong and dependable air. Looks weren’t what mattered. Neither did riches. It was the man within that counted.

“This ain’t the best place in town, but it’s what I can afford.” Tom shrugged in apology. “It’s safe and warm, and I talked to the manager, who promised to make you welcome.”

“Thank you, Tom.” His thoughtfulness did more to reassure her than anything could. Snow brushed her cheek as she stepped past the door he held open for her. She caught a glimpse of denim trousers and boots as she swept into the light and warmth. “You’ve done so much for me. Sending me a train ticket, offering me your home and your love. I hope we can be happy together.”

“You’ll make me very happy indeed.” He looked her up and down. Something glittered in his gaze, something she didn’t understand, but it was gone before she could analyze it.

Perhaps it was simply the reflection of the lamplight in his eyes, she decided. He stood, perfectly valiant, swept off his hat and self-consciously ran his fingers through his dark blond hair. She felt self-conscious, too, worrying he would be disappointed in her, perhaps wishing she was prettier and trying to ignore the niggle of what felt like doubt in the pit of her stomach.

That’s not a sign, she told herself. Anyone would feel trepidation meeting the stranger she’d agreed to marry. She’d prayed hard on this. Hadn’t she felt peace in her soul after discussing this with God? And it wasn’t as if she had a better choice. She’d answered twenty advertisements men had placed looking for wives in the
Hearts and Hands
magazine. Tom had been the one to answer her with a proposal and a train ticket. To a homeless woman, he’d been an answered prayer.

That’s what he still was. The answer to her prayers. She watched as he spoke respectfully with the middle-aged woman behind the front desk. He unbuttoned his coat, showing a wedge of flannel shirt and red suspenders. Her husband-to-be was apparently a farmer, which would make her a farmer’s wife. She knew nothing about farming, but she vowed to work hard. She would do her best cooking for him and keeping house. She’d learn about chickens and pigs or whatever she needed to because this man was going to be her everything. This man had promised to give her a home, his home, for Christmas.

“Mildred will get you settled.” Tom thrust out the battered satchel. “I’ll come by tomorrow right after lunch. Say, one o’clock?”

“I’ll be ready.” Christina took her satchel and tried to ignore the hollow feeling settling into the pit of her stomach. “I’m looking forward to it. I can’t wait to see your farm.”

“Can’t wait to show it to you.” Tom gave a bashful smile. “Good evening, Christina.”

Her throat closed up watching him go. He donned his hat, straightened his bulky fur coat and pushed through the door with a powerful snap. An icy wind blew snow around him and he disappeared into the night and storm.

“C’mon, dearie.” Mildred shuffled from behind the desk, heading toward the stairs. “I got your room a-warmin’. It’s gonna be a cold one tonight.”

“That’s kind of you.” What was she doing feeling lonely? Perhaps disappointed? Tom likely had chores to do on his farm instead of spending time getting to know her over supper, which she hadn’t realized until now that she’d been hoping he would.

There is plenty of time for that, a lifetime, she told herself as she followed Mildred not up the staircase but down a set of narrow steps into the basement. In a few days she would be fixing supper in their home. There would be endless evenings ahead to ask questions about his childhood or to tell him of hers. It will work out, she thought optimistically. It had to.

“Here ya go.” Mildred opened a door. “Coffee and tea are complimentary, self-serve if you’re interested. Let me know if you’ll be taking supper as Mr. Rutger didn’t pay for your meals, only your room. It’s fifty cents, a real bargain.”

Fifty cents? Christina bowed her head to hide her disappointment. She thought of her lost reticule, ignored her growling stomach and tightened her grip on her satchel. “Not tonight, thank you.”

“All righty.” Mildred gave a motherly smile. “The coal hod is stocked. Come find me if you need anything, dearie.”

“I will.” Christina waited until the older woman left before squeezing through the narrow door. The small room was cozy with a comfortable bed, a darling bureau and two armchairs, a peephole window and coal heater in the corner. Better than she’d had in years. She tucked her satchel next to the bureau, sat on the foot of the bed and rested her aching arm.

I’m not disappointed,
she thought stubbornly, willing it to be so.

* * *

“Doc, do you know much about a man named Tom Rutger?” Elijah held out the basin of warm wash water he’d poured and carried from the woodstove.

“Tom? Sure I know him. I know just about everyone in this county.” Sam Frost took the basin, dunked a washcloth into the sudsy water and returned to his little patient’s side. “Why are you asking? Is it official business?”

“No, just curious is all.” He glanced toward the dark window, remembering the brief outline of the man who Christina was going to marry. “I didn’t like the look of him.”

“He and his brother took over the family pig farm when their folks retired, oh, seven or eight years ago. The brother married and moved onto his wife’s place last summer.” Doc Frost swiped at the mud obscuring the injured boy’s face.

No worried mother had knocked at the door looking for her child. No father had frantically searched the streets for a son that had wandered off. Elijah stared beyond his reflection in the window and studied the dark boardwalk. No one would be coming for the boy. He felt it in his guts. Returning his thoughts to the subject of Tom Rutger, he said, “I think I know which farm you mean. Just east of town?”