The Best Gifts Are Always Unexpected

Home for Christmas by Jillian Hart

Christina Eberlee is desperate for the safe haven promised to her by the Montana man whose bridal ad she answered. Yet she can’t forget the handsome marshal who helps her on the journey. Maybe venturing from her planned path could lead Christina to the home she was truly meant to find.

Snowflakes for Dry Creek by Janet Tronstad

“Maybe you could marry her.” Gabe Stone’s niece and nephew long for a mother just like the mail-order bride Gabe’s brother sent for and then abandoned. Yet in making the children’s Christmas dreams come true, Gabe and Annabelle may discover the most precious gift of the holidays is love.

Praise for Jillian Hart

“A sweet romance with characters

who only want the best for one another.”

—RT Book Reviews on “Her Christmas Family”

in Mail-Order Christmas Brides

“A sweet, romantic novel,

with memorable characters.”

—RT Book Reviews on Snowflake Bride

“This is a beautiful love story between two people from different stations in life, or so it appears.”

—RT Book Reviews on Patchwork Bride

Praise for Janet Tronstad

“This great story filled with kindness,

understanding and love is sure to please.”

—RT Book Reviews

on “Christmas Stars for Dry Creek”

in Mail-Order Christmas Brides

“Elizabeth is a wonderful, caring character.

Jake is a gentle giant,

and their love story is full of Christmas joy.”

—RT Book Reviews on Calico Christmas at Dry Creek

“Janet Tronstad’s quirky small town

and witty characters will add warmth

and joy to your holiday season.”

—RT Book Reviews on

“Christmas Bells for Dry Creek”

in Mistletoe Courtship

JILLIAN HART

grew up on her family’s homestead, where she helped raise cattle, rode horses and scribbled stories in her spare time. After earning her English degree from Whitman College, she worked in travel and advertising before selling her first novel. When Jillian isn’t working on her next story, she can be found puttering in her rose garden, curled up with a good book or spending quiet evenings at home with her family.

JANET TRONSTAD

grew up on her family’s farm in central Montana and now lives in Pasadena, California, where she is always at work on her next book. She has written more than thirty books, many of them set in the fictitious town of Dry Creek, Montana, where the men spend the winters gathered around the potbellied stove in the hardware store and the women make jelly in the fall.

Mail-Order Holiday Brides

Home for Christmas

Jillian Hart

Snowflakes for Dry Creek

Janet Tronstad

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Home for Christmas

Jillian Hart

And let the peace of God rule in your hearts.

—Colossians 3:15

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Epilogue

Dear Reader

Questions for Discussion

Chapter One

Montana Territory

December 21, 1885

“I think we’ve been on this train forever.” Christina Eberlee gripped the handrail, breezed down the steps from the passenger car and landed on the icy depot platform. Snowflakes caught on her eyelashes and needled her face as she twirled around in the December wind, waiting for her new friend to descend from the passenger car. “Or at least it feels that way.”

“It certainly does,” Annabelle Hester agreed, holding her beautiful hat in place as the wind tried to snatch it. “It feels nice to get out in the fresh air. I’m afraid train travel isn’t quite as glamorous as I imagined.”

“Me, either. Exciting, but cramped. Who would have guessed?” Christina trudged through the snow, thinking of the blessing of Annabelle’s companionship. Before they’d met, she’d sat alone on her velvet-covered seat, listening to the clickety-clack of the wheels on steel rails and counting the miles passing by. Dread was a hard thing to battle alone, envisioning all the things that could go wrong with this mail-order bride situation she found herself in.

Her biggest problem would have to be that her imagination would not stop seeing doom. Tom Rutger might be a perfectly fine man—he’d certainly seemed so in the letters they’d exchanged—but her errant mind kept picturing a bald bridegroom with a severe overbite and warts. A man that smelled like cabbage. Or—and this was the worst—one of those men who was nothing but hair, including a gigantic handlebar mustache, bushy beard and hair curling over the backs of his hands like fur.

Then Annabelle Hester had joined her table in the dining car, and Christina was delighted to learn she wasn’t the only mail-order bride on board. Annabelle was one, too! Finally, someone who could share her worries. Annabelle had chuckled over Christina’s greatest fear—abundantly curling hand hair—and they’d become instant friends.

“Montana Territory is such wide-open country,” Annabelle commented as she looked around. She was a dainty, lovely young woman who outshone every other female on the platform. “So different from back East.”

“You will come to like it, I’m sure. I didn’t like Dakota Territory at first, but I came to love the wide-open spaces and the skies that go on forever. Not that you can see either with all this snow,” Christina replied.

“No, as I can hardly see my hand in front of my face. Or you,” Annabelle quipped in a dignified manner.

“Are you starting to get excited?” Christina trudged through the near-blizzard conditions toward the depot, where lemony light offered shelter and the promise of warmth. Her teeth were chattering.

“I’m quite looking forward to meeting Adam Stone, my husband-to-be.” Annabelle tumbled through the open door. “I’m grateful to find such a man.”

“I pray he is a great blessing for your life.” The blast of heat from the potbellied stove in the center of the train station’s waiting room felt delicious as she looked around. A ticket counter and the telegraph window stood at one end and the newsstand at another. A kindly faced matronly woman was pouring cups of coffee and tea for interested passengers. The little sign said two cents.

And that was two cents too much. Christina’s heart sank. Her reticule, dangling from her wrist, didn’t have so much as a penny inside it. She’d spent her last few cents on her breakfast toast and tea. Her stomach rumbled, reminding her it was almost noon.

“Are you in the mood for something hot to drink?” Christina asked. “I’ll wait in line with you, if you are.”

Something—or more accurately someone—crashed into her shoulder. Knocked off balance, she slammed to the floor. Pain roared through her arm. All she saw was a blur racing away—the boy who’d rammed into her, a reticule swinging from his hand.

My reticule, she realized. He has my reticule! She levered herself up, watching in horror as the kid dashed through the doorway and into the storm.

“Help!” Annabelle called. “Stop that boy!”

But he was gone, just an impression of a dark coat and a faded red hat disappearing into the veil of snow, her most treasured possessions gone with him. A lump wedged into her throat. Vaguely she was aware of footsteps charging the length of the room as a man in a black coat and Stetson raced into the snow.

“Are you all right?” Genuine concern marked Annabelle’s lovely face as she grasped Christina by the elbow and helped her up. “Are you hurt? Oh, you’re bleeding.”

“Am I? It’s nothing.” At least she was trying to pretend so. Pain shot up her arm in swift, knife-sharp spikes and she gritted her teeth against it. Her worst injury was the loss of the contents of her reticule—her dead adoptive mother’s broach and the locket with the image of her sisters, whom she hadn’t seen since she was adopted as a small child. Now all she had of her sisters was the fading image in her head.

“Christina, you can deny it all you want, but it doesn’t change the facts. You are hurt and you need a doctor. Maybe there’s one traveling on the train.”

Tears swam into her eyes, but she blinked them away. She cradled her aching arm, standing on shaky knees. Everyone stared at her. How embarrassing. She wanted to sink through a hole in the floor. If only she’d been paying better attention, she might have seen the boy coming.

“Don’t you worry,” Annabelle soothed. “I don’t have much money, but I’ll split what I have with you. It will be enough for meals until you reach Angel Falls.”

“That’s generous of you, but no, I can’t take your money.” Especially since she’d run out of her own funds anyway. She swallowed hard, pushing the sharp zing of pain to the back of her mind. It was nothing but a bump, she thought, cradling her hurting arm. Maybe a bruise. No need to worry. She swiped blood away from the skinned heel of her hand.

“Poor dear.” A plump older lady gave her a sympathetic look. She patted one of the benches near the stove. “Perhaps you should come sit down here. I sent my daughter to tell the ticket clerk to fetch a doctor.”

“No doctor.” A medical bill was the last thing she needed. “I can’t afford one.”

“Maybe that man was able to catch the boy and bring back your reticule,” Annabelle said hopefully.

“What man?”

“The one who ran after the boy.” Annabelle gestured toward the doorway.

Right. The man had returned, nothing but a blurry shadow cloaked by the thick snowfall on the train platform. The vague shadow took on shape. First a hint of wide shoulders and the crown of a Stetson coming closer until he broke through the storm and everything and everyone surrounding her vanished in comparison. She caught a hint of his face as he strode forcefully into the light—rugged, carved granite, high cheekbones and an iron jaw. At well over six feet, he towered over everyone in the room, a formidable behemoth of a man with a badge glinting on his dark wool coat.

“Sorry, ma’am, he got away from me. He had too big of a head start.” His dark blue gaze gentled, softening with apology. An odd combination—steely man and kind heart.

“I figured as much. Thank you for trying.”

“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

Angel 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.

This was what she’d prayed so hard for, day to day and from night to night. All around her, families reunited or said farewells, clinging to one another, sharing loving looks. Husbands and wives, mothers and sons, friends and sisters. Gentle wishes and cries of welcome or sad sounds of parting peppered the air around her. A lovely family crowded together, reunited, a mom flanked by two beautiful little girls while her husband kissed each daughter on the cheek. Tears stood in their eyes. Anyone could see the love that bound them. The happiness they felt when they were together.

Please, let that be me one day. It was what she wished with all her heart.

“Ma’am?” A country-looking man in a brown hide coat swept off his wide-brimmed hat. His brown hair was a little too long and mussed, and his abundant facial hair all but hid his mouth and a good deal of his collar.

Maybe she could talk him into a trim, she thought optimistically, refusing to be disappointed. He looked less prosperous than she’d hoped with his threadbare trousers and patched boots, but his eyes were kind. That was a prayer come true. That was what mattered.

“Tom?” she asked excitedly, suddenly so nervous her mouth felt numb. “It’s wonderful to meet you.”

“Sorry, I ain’t Tom.” He put his hat back on, looking disappointed. “I’m Jed. Guess you ain’t Aida, either.”

“No, I’m sorry.” She truly was. She watched as Jed continued down the length of the platform. Another woman stood at the far end, looking lonely. Christina wished she’d known there was another mail-order bride on the train. Her mind drifted to Annabelle. How were things going with her? Was Adam all she’d hoped for?

“Excuse me, miss?” A very proper-looking man in a black suit approached her. A top hat hid most of his sleek, well-combed black hair. This couldn’t be Tom, since the man looked like a butler and not a farmer. “You wouldn’t happen to be Miss Louisa Bell?”

“No, sorry.” She watched as the man moved on, searching out the only other lone female waiting on the platform.

The rumble of the engine vibrated through the boards at her feet. The wind gusted, swirling her skirts around her ankles. She prayed no one could see the hole in her sock or the state of her well-mended shoes. She drew her brown coat more tightly around her, unsure what to do. There were no other single men on the platform. She’d been quite clear in her letter to Tom about the day and time she would be arriving. Perhaps something had held him up? Or, worse, perhaps the letter had been lost in transit?

A little of her happiness leaked out with her next breath. A flake of snow struck her cheek, and she shivered. The hustle of the crowd had gone.

“How’s the arm?” The rumble of a smoky baritone drew her attention. Marshal Elijah Gable tipped his hat to her. “Still just bruised?”

“Yes, exactly, and feeling much better.” Not that she could move her fingers yet, but she was hopeful. “What are you doing loitering around the depot?”

“Oh, keeping my eye out for crime or nefarious-looking ruffians.”

“So a big part of your job is just standing around doing nothing?”

“Something like that.” Little did she know he’d been watching over her. “I also help damsels in distress.”

“If I see any, I’ll point them in your direction.” Blue flecks in her eyes glittered up at him.

The stubborn light within him strengthened like an ember refusing to be put out. “This clearly isn’t my business, but your fiancé hasn’t shown up to claim you.”

“He’s coming, I’m sure.” She glanced around the empty platform, maybe thinking she was hiding her anxiety. Behind them the train rumbled, like a giant beast ready to bolt. “Perhaps he got waylaid.”

“Maybe.” Elijah couldn’t imagine anything that would cause him to leave Christina alone in a strange town and penniless. “Why don’t I help you get settled, so you’re not standing here all afternoon?”

“Oh, no. Tom said he’d meet me here, and that’s right where I’ll be when he comes.” She motioned toward the cozy little station where lamplight shone through frosted windowpanes. “I will be warm and safe there, so go about your business. I see no damsels in distress here.”

“That’s too bad. Just thought you might want some company.” Snowflakes drifted lazily on a gusting wind, harbingers of another storm coming. He planted a hand on his hat, holding it when a gust hit. “It might get cold waiting.”

“I’m sure he won’t be much longer.” The dainty curve of her chin hiked up a notch. “Any number of things could have happened. A sick animal on his farm or a broken axle on the drive to town could have delayed him. There could have been an accident on one of the streets in town and he stopped to help. He’s a reliable man, my Tom. He’ll come.”

“I’m sure. The thing is, the station closes between trains. There won’t be another one until morning.” As proof, the lamplight went out, leaving the small window in darkness. A tall, pole-skinny man opened the door and took out his keys to lock it behind him. “With the sun about to set, it might get cold waiting here.”

“Yes, it might.” She bit her bottom lip, studying one of the benches tucked up against the side of the station house. “I’m sure Tom won’t be much longer.”

Was she aware of the slight wobble in her voice, the one hinting that maybe she wasn’t so sure?

This isn’t your business, he tried to tell himself. Being near to her like this would only make him hurt more, because as she stood in the hazy light before sunset, dappled with snow and lovelier than anything he’d ever laid eyes on, he cared about her. He didn’t know why she brought life to his heart. He only knew she did.

A cruel truth, because she was not free. He could only pray that the man who’d claimed her was worthy of her. A smart man would walk away. This was a safe town, he and his fellow lawmen worked to keep it that way, but no young woman should be sitting alone in the cold and dark. It was his professional duty to see her somewhere safe, and that made it a little easier to snatch the battered satchel from her gloved hand.

“Hey, that’s mine.” Soft tendrils of brown silk framed her heart-shaped face in airy little wisps. “You are helping me against my will, Marshal.”

“Sorry, it’s my sworn duty. The train is leaving—” He paused while the whistle blew loud and long. “Your Tom will know to look for you at the hotel. This isn’t a big town. There aren’t a lot of other places you could go.”

“I don’t know which hotel he made my reservation at.” Her gait tapped alongside his, as lightly as a waltz. “I’m afraid we didn’t exchange many letters.”

“You were in a hurry to wed?”

“Very much so, as I was sneaking into the local livery stable to sleep during the night and creeping out before the owner arrived each morning.” Her chin hiked another notch. “I could have been arrested for trespassing if I’d been caught. What do you think about that, Marshal?”

Her tone remained light and sweet, but it took a like soul to hear the hollowness beneath. He clomped down the depot steps.

“I do know how that feels.” His honesty surprised him. His past wasn’t something he dredged up. He followed the boardwalk, staying at her side. “My parents lost our farm when I was ten. We lived out of our wagon for two years. Pa would work wherever he could find day wages, usually harvesting or planting. In the heat of the summer or the bitterest days of winter I slept in the back of the wagon. Then one day, the wagon broke down, Pa couldn’t afford the repairs and so we slept where we could.”

“You were homeless, too?” Surprise softened her, opened her up in a way he’d never seen in anyone before. She had a pure heart, he realized. No guise, no facade, just honesty. “So you know what it’s like?”

“To be so hungry your stomach feels ready to gnaw its way out?” He nodded, hating to remember those tough times.

Her curls bobbed as she nodded her head. Yes, she knew exactly what he meant. He was afraid of that. He blew out a breath, hating she’d known that existence. Considering the worn and patched state of her clothes, maybe she was still living it.

“I pray those times are behind you.” He pitched his voice to be heard above the approaching rattle of a teamster’s wagon. “I’m glad you found Tom. Life has to get better from here, right?”

“That’s the idea.” Snow breezed between them, as if to divide them. As if heaven were reminding him she was not his to care about. “Do you know Tom Rutger?”

“No, sorry. Moved here in September.” The sidewalk came to an intersection and he stopped. Christmas was in the air. Somewhere, perhaps a street or two over, bells chimed. Sounded like Reverend Hadly was out collecting coins for the orphanage again.

“So, you’re new to town, too.” The storm swirled around them with sudden vengeance, veiling the horses pulling vehicles down the street. The shops on the other side were merely glimpses of shape and color before the snowstorm swallowed them. “Where did you move here from?”

“Helena. I was headquartered there. When the office opened here, I jumped at the chance.”

“You always wanted to live in Angel Falls?”

“No, I was looking for a change. My pa passed away a few years back. Thought it might be a good time to start somewhere new.”

“I’m glad you did, or we never would have met.” Her smile could make him forget to breathe. Unaware, she brushed snowflakes out of her eyes. She peered up at him, her face rosy from the cold, asking a deeper question. “Did your pa find a job in Helena? Is that when you were able to find a home?”

Strange how two very different people—she, a little dainty thing and he a tough, lone-wolf of a lawman understood one another. She truly understood what a home meant. “My father finally landed a steady job working on a big farm overseeing the wheat fields just out of town. He only worked nine months out of the year and things were lean, but it was just the two of us. It was the turning point for us.”

“Just the two of you? What happened to your mother?”

“She passed away when I was eleven.” Those were times he didn’t talk about. He didn’t explain there had been no money for a doctor, and the wagon had proved too cold a shelter in winter.

But Christina seemed to know that without him having to say so. Understanding shone in her eyes. “I’m so grateful you had your pa.”

“We got through it together.” He swallowed hard, grateful not to have to explain further. Strange how she could understand him like that. “The hotel is across the street. We’ll get you checked in and I’ll leave a note for Rutger at the train depot, so he knows where to find you, even though it’s the only hotel in town.”

“Thank you, Elijah.” His name rolled off her tongue like a hymn, sweet and reverent, and the sound filled him up. He admired whoever Tom Rutger was for his choice in a bride. A smart man—one not pining after another’s intended—ought to get moving and stop wishing. He took her elbow to help her across the street but a horse’s shrill whinny of alarm stopped him.

He couldn’t see much through the curtain of snow. Harnesses jangled. A lady screamed.

“Whoa!” a man called out as shadowy wagons skidded to a stop. Horses reared in alarm and a load of lumber crashed to the ground.

Elijah was running before he’d even realized he’d stepped off the boardwalk. His gaze riveted to a small form lying motionless in the middle of the chaos.

“He came out of nowhere, Marshal.” The teamster jumped down from his wagon. Panic-stricken, the man dropped to his knees beside the still body. “He’s just a little tyke. He ran in front of my horses. Couldn’t stop ’em in time.”

“Are you okay, boy?” Elijah brushed the muddy snow from the mired street off the boy’s face. Lashes blinked up at him as the child tried to stir, but he slipped back into unconsciousness. Just a little guy, maybe eight years old. Somebody’s son, somebody’s loved one. He laid a hand on the boy’s chest, relieved at the steady heartbeat.

“He’s still breathing.” Christina knelt beside him with a swish of her skirts. Distress wreathed her lovely face. She ran tender fingers across the child’s forehead. “He has quite a bruise already, and a lump.”

“My horse done it.” The teamster’s face twisted, torn up. “Must have hit him with a hoof when he reared up in surprise. Will he be all right?”

“Head injuries can be dangerous,” Christina said, taking the end of her scarf and gently swiping the boy’s face with her good hand. The child moaned, stirring again. “That’s a good sign. How are you feeling, sweetheart?”

The boy’s eyelids fluttered, but he didn’t open them. Small, scrawny, scared, he was a ragamuffin who could use a good meal. Poor kid.

“Anyone know who he is?” Elijah asked.

“I don’t, sorry, Marshal.” The teamster shook his head.

“Never seen ’im before.” Les from the lumberyard ambled over. “I saw the whole thing. The boy ran out of the mercantile like a rabbit being chased by a coyote. Didn’t even stop to look for traffic.”

“He darted into the road,” agreed elderly Mrs. Thompson from inside her covered carriage. “I don’t recognize him, and I know everybody in this town.”

“Thanks, ma’am.” He scooped up the boy carefully, cradling him in his arms. “Anyone else hurt?”

“Nope.” The teamster’s concern remained carved on his rugged face. “I’ll check in with your office later. See how the boy’s doing.”

“I’d appreciate that.” The weight of the boy in his arms reminded him of his new mission. The doc’s office wasn’t far. He turned to the woman at his side. “I guess this is where our paths part again.”

“You’re wrong about that.” Her chin hiked up as she gripped her satchel’s handle with her good hand and accompanied him around the maze of stopped vehicles. “I want to help you with that little boy.”

“But what about your intended?” He stepped onto the boardwalk. “You might miss him.”

“Tom and I will find each other. I believe that is God’s will for us.” It felt easy to think so in this small, cozy town graced with white. She loved the way snow made everything fresh and new. This is what she hoped to make of her life, to recover it and start again. Thanks to Tom, she had the chance to belong and find a real home, to have a husband and one day a family. Helping the wounded boy felt like her first act in this new life. Do the right thing, her adoptive mother used to say, and it will always work out right in the end. “Right now, this boy needs us.”

“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

“Christina?” 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?”

“That’s the one.”

Elijah leaned his forehead against the cool glass, picturing the run-down barn, the pig shelters made of scrap lumber, the shanty that had never seen a coat of paint. Tom Rutger might be the far side of prosperous, but that hadn’t answered the question. “Is he a good man?”

“I don’t like to talk ill of others. Let that be enough said.” Sam let out a sigh.

“That’s what I was afraid of.” He couldn’t stop wondering about Christina. Where was she now? Maybe dining with her bridegroom? They’d walked down the boardwalk away from both the hotel and other eating establishments in town, save for the boardinghouse.

He wished he could get the black feeling out of his stomach. With a sigh, he searched the stormy street. He did spot someone else he knew on the boardwalk. Sheriff Clint Kramer lifted a hand in acknowledgment and moseyed over.

“There’s the sheriff. Maybe he has some news on the boy.” Elijah headed for the door.

“Good. I’ll get him cleaned up.” Sam rinsed out the cloth. “Maybe while you’re gone, I can get him to talk.”

“That would be an improvement.” Elijah donned his hat, burst onto the boardwalk and his boots took him straight to the sheriff.

“No one is looking for the boy. As far as I can tell, no one knows who he is,” Clint said, jabbing his hands into his coat pockets. “Angel Falls is a small enough town—someone ought to know him.”

“So where does that leave us?” He couldn’t abandon the boy. Hard to forget how the kid had sobbed, face pressed against Elijah’s chest. “Maybe the doc can keep him at the clinic overnight?”

“That’d be best. I’ll leave a note on the office door, in case his parents decide to come looking for him.” Clint tipped his hat, taking a step back. “Talk to you later, Elijah.”

“Later.” Snow bit his cheeks and swirled in a furious dance down the dark, empty street. His thoughts should have stayed on the kid, but his gaze wandered to where lit windows in the boardinghouse glowed faintly through the storm.

Christina’s angelic face filled his mind. Remembering her light chestnut locks and her willowy grace, the light she brought to his battered heart returned.

She’s not yours, he reminded himself. If only that could keep his soul from wishing.

He stomped the snow from his boots and yanked open the clinic door. “Doc? Want me to grab some supper?”

“That’s a fine idea.” The doctor toweled off the boy’s face with a practiced hand. “Since I’ve got a patient for the night, we’d best feed him. I’ll send word to my nurse. She’ll be the one staying with him, once I get settled.”

“Sounds good.” Elijah leaned against the door frame, studying the boy who lay as stiff as a board, staring hollowly at the wall. “Too bad the kid isn’t talking. Yep, it’s a shame. I won’t be able to know what he wants for supper. Should I get him liver and onions? Boiled pig’s feet soup? Or a tripe sandwich, maybe?”

“Order him the soup.” Sam winked. “There’s nothing more appetizing than seeing a swine hoof in your soup bowl.”

“True enough.” Elijah winked back, but the boy didn’t stir. Hard not to notice the ragged clothes, or a string holding the leather toe to the sole of one shoe. A suspicion about the child lodged between Elijah’s ribs, making it hard to breathe as he pushed away from the door. “I’ll be back, Doc, with that soup and maybe a tripe sandwich or two.”

“We’ll be waiting,” Sam assured him, fetching clean long johns out of a nearby drawer, which looked as if they might fit the boy.

The kid was too little to be on his own, Elijah thought to himself as he left the warmth and light for the dark and storm. Icy wind needled through his clothes as he faced into the wind. He met no one as he hurried down the snowy boardwalk, past businesses closed for the night and into the light shining from the boardinghouse.

He walked past a long row of windows, blazing brightly. A potbellied stove glowed red-hot in the room where a dozen tables lined the walls, filled with diners. Mildred spotted him through the window and waved, signaling him to hurry on in.

“There you are.” Her smile put pink into her appled cheeks. “I wondered where you got to. It’s roast beef tonight, your favorite. I talked the cook into making those mashed potatoes you like.”

“Mildred, you are a treasure, but I’m sort of still on duty.” He thought of the homeless boy, rigid with fear. He knew what that was like. Long-ago memories threatened to whisper to the surface but he clamped them down in time. “Could you wrap up—”

That’s as far as he got. Words failed him when Christina Eberlee waltzed from a shadowed stairwell and into sight. Her lustrous brown hair held highlights of nutmeg that gleamed like the finest silk in the candlelight and framed her ivory face to perfection. “You.” Surprise crinkled her soft forehead. “What do I have to do to get rid of you, Marshal?”

“Don’t know, ma’am. Perhaps take a flyswatter to me?”

“I’ll keep it in mind for next time.” Humor crooked her lush mouth upward. Her blue skirts swished around her ankles as she came to a stop in front of the tea service, halfway across the lobby. Without the bulk of the coat he’d always seen her in before, she looked even tinier. Slender, petite, as delicate as china.

He towered over her like Goliath. “I thought you were staying at the hotel.”

“Change of plans.” Her smile didn’t dim. “What’s your excuse?”

“I live on the top floor, for now, but I’ve been looking to buy a house.” He swept off his hat, realizing too late he’d left it on too long. A gentleman would have taken it off sooner.

“Miss Eberlee, you know our illustrious marshal?” Mildred waved the younger woman over. “Why didn’t you say so?”

“I didn’t know he lived here.” Christina waltzed over. “Buying a house sounds like a big step.”

“I’m ready to settle down, plus this town feels like home.” He wanted her to know she’d come to a good place. He hoped she liked Angel Falls as much as he did. “Folks are friendly, going to church is like being with family and this piece of Montana is beautiful. Can’t go wrong by living here.”

“See? That’s another good sign from our Lord. I’ve been doing a lot of praying lately. Some days it’s tough to have faith that hard times will turn into good.” She drew in a little breath, as if grasping on to determination. “It really has to be changing for the better.”

“That’s my wish for you.” He knew that when he knelt to say his prayers tonight, they would be for her.

“How is the boy?” she asked. “With his parents by now?”

“No one’s come for him, and he’s not talking.” Elijah’s jaw tightened at the sad situation.

“Why don’t I show you to a table, just the two of you?” Mildred offered, charging toward the open dining room doors. “You can keep chatting while I fetch your meals.”

“Oh, no.” Christina took a step back. “I only came up for tea.”

“No supper? But you must eat, dearie.” Mildred looked stricken. “The kitchen closes in an hour. We don’t stay open later like the hotel.”

“I have a better idea,” Elijah said. It was easy to see the problem. He guessed that Christina didn’t have any money for supper. “Mildred, wrap up four roast beef suppers and a jug of hot tea. Doc has a patient staying at the clinic, and Christina is going to join us.”

“I am?”

He wanted to do this the right way, so she wouldn’t feel awkward about eating with them. “Neither Doc or I can get the kid talking. Maybe he’ll open up to you where he doesn’t trust us. Think of the meal as payment for your help.”

“Oh.” Her forehead crinkled as she considered his offer. “Fine, although I’m not sure it will be a fair bargain.”

“True. Doc and I are getting the better part of the deal.”

“You are a charmer. I’m going to have to keep my eye on you, Marshal.” She looked up at him through dark lashes and his heart tumbled.

A harmless tumble, he told himself. Being sweet on a lady was no crime as long as he didn’t wish for more.

“That’s me, a real charmer. I haven’t beaued a lady since I was twenty.” His throat worked—even after a dozen years the loss hurt. It had become vague, it had become distant but Darcy had been his first love. As it turned out, his only chance for love and a family. “Trust me, I’m so far out of practice I’m no threat to the lovely ladies of Angel Falls.”

“I wouldn’t say that was true.” She sparkled up at him, her kindness capturing him. As if he wasn’t caught enough.

“Four meals, ready to go.” Mildred barreled in with the packages wrapped in thick paper. “And a crock of hot tea. You bring back the dishes, Marshal. I’ve got my eye on you.”

“I’ll toe the line, ma’am.” He winked at the older lady, grateful for her intrusion. When it came to Christina, he’d be wise to keep his heart closed or she would surely break it.

Remembering what the doc had said about Christina’s intended groom, he prayed that the pig farmer would fall hard for her, too, and be the good husband she deserved.

Love could make a man better, Elijah thought as he waited for Christina to fetch her coat from her room. Lord, let that be true for Tom Rutger.

Chapter Four

“Hello, there.” Christina peeked around the door frame into the boy’s room. The meal she carried, still steaming hot, made her stomach twist painfully in hunger. She breathed in the spicy richness of peppered roast beef, buttery mashed potatoes, doughy buttermilk biscuits and bacon-studded green beans. “The marshal thought you would like something to eat.”

The child sat with his back to her and said nothing, staring at the wall. His slight shoulders drooped, his spine slumped and his mop of freshly washed hair promised to be a mix of blond and brown when it dried.

No one had come for him. Didn’t anyone care?

“How does your head feel?” She set the plate on his bedside table.

No answer. His back rose and fell slightly with each breath.

“It’s good to see that you’re all right. I was really worried about you.” She withdrew a napkin, which Mildred had provided, from her skirt pocket and tucked it beside the plate. “I’m Christina. What’s your name?”

The boy shook his head.

At least he’d acknowledged her. That was progress, right? Encouraged, she sat on the foot of the bed.

“I’m new to town. I only know the marshal, and now the doc and the lady who runs the boardinghouse where I’m staying,” she explained. “I could use a friend.”

“Why?” One thin shoulder shrugged. “You’re better off on your own.”

“I’ve never found that to be true.” She knew what it was like to feel alone and disheartened. “Friends always make life better. They help you, you help them. They share their life, you share yours. Why, I was all alone coming out here on the train—”

“The train?” he interrupted, his back stiffening rod-straight.

“—and I met someone who was feeling the same way,” she continued. Maybe the boy had learned not to trust other people. Was there maybe a way he might open up to her? “Annabelle and I started talking and next thing you know, we were friends. Just like that, wanting to help each other and cheering each other on. I was hoping you would be my friend, too.”

“Uh—” His emerald-green eyes stared up at her like a deer caught in a hunter’s snare.

“I used to live in Dove’s Way, Dakota Territory with my Ma and Pa, until Pa’s death. Then Ma passed away late in the summer.” She slipped the plate off the night table and held it out to him. “That’s when I went to Spring Glen to look for work. It was a bigger town along the railroad. Where do you live?”

The boy gulped, still staring at her. His face turned red and he bowed his head. He took the plate from her and stared at it hungrily.

“I spotted a school bell tower when I was walking here.” She heard footsteps in the hallway, coming closer. “I could see it over the tops of the buildings on the street. Is that where you go to school?”

Instead of answering, he seized the fork tucked on his plate and shoveled in a heap of mashed potatoes.

“Hey, good progress.” Elijah shouldered into the room, seeming to fill it. She couldn’t look anywhere but at him and his wind-tousled dark hair, his easygoing grin and strong, reassuring presence. He paced deeper into the room holding two plates of food. “You got him eating. Any chance he told you his name?”

“No, but he’s going to have to, as we’re now friends.”

“Is that so?” Elijah set one plate on the nightstand. “Slow down there, fella. Eating so fast isn’t good for you. I ought to know.”

The boy didn’t look up. He didn’t slow down. A fringe of too-long hair tumbled over his forehead and hid his eyes as he forked in load after load. If he had glanced at the man before him, he would have witnessed the solemn understanding deep in the marshal’s midnight-blue eyes. Maybe then the child wouldn’t be so afraid.

“Still not using your left arm?” Elijah handed her a plate loaded with food.

“I’m just resting it. It’s fine, really.”

“Right. Like I believe that.” He shook his head, scattering thick dark hair, and gave her a glimpse of a slight set of dimples. “You know I have plans for you and the doctor.”

“I figured there was a price to be paid for this meal.” She still couldn’t wiggle her fingers, so maybe a doctor was needed. She set the plate on her lap, grateful for it. “Let’s say grace.”

“Sounds good to me.” Elijah took her hand warmly in his own.

Little snaps of awareness skidded down her arm, heading straight for her soul. No need to worry about those little snaps. It was harmless, perhaps because she and Elijah were so alike. Without words they recognized the silent boy’s plight because they had been there. Elijah’s dark blue eyes riveted to hers, and the steady light of reassurance she read there drove out everything else.

Yes, his friendship was a surprise blessing. Proof that the good Lord watched over her every step of the way. In gratitude, she bowed her head. Before she closed her eyes she saw Elijah’s broad, capable hand gently catch hold of the boy’s. His fork stilled and he gave one last swallow.

“Thank you, Father, for the bounty of this meal. We are truly grateful.” Elijah’s deep tone rumbled like a hymn, reverent and earnest. “We are also thankful for the blessing of friends You have placed in our lives. Please let us find ways to help each other according to Your word. Amen.”

“Amen.” When she opened her eyes, the lamplight flickered more brightly and Elijah seemed to be surrounded with it, bronzed by the golden glow. His goodness shone through. She could see it clearly.

There is so much good inside of everyone, she reminded herself, thinking of Tom. Sometimes it just takes a while to get to know someone before you can see it. She needed to have faith. Tom had been the only man to answer her letter. She’d answered twenty advertisements that frigid November day when a magazine skidded down the alley she was huddled in, blowing like a leaf in the wind, and came to a stop at her feet. It was all the change she had for postage and paper. And it had led her here, where she was safe and warm with friends. She had to believe that God had brought her here for a reason.

“My ma taught me to pray.” The boy’s words came raspy, almost like a whisper. His bottom lip trembled as if using all of his courage. “Did your ma teach you?”

“She did.” Elijah’s answer rippled softly, warm and comfortable. His earnest wish to help the boy touched her. They’d left so much unspoken about the child. The ragged clothes, being too skinny and the haunted look in his wary green eyes all pointed to one simple truth.

“My older sisters showed me how to steeple my hands and kneel before my bed to pray at night.” Christina found herself answering, longing for what was lost. She plopped a forkful of potatoes on her tongue, so good, so smooth and buttery. That’s when she noticed the boy’s plate was empty. She chewed and swallowed, planning on giving the boy half her food.

“My ma taught me, too.” Elijah leaned over and slid half his roast beef slices onto the boy’s plate. “She could sing like an angel. She was always humming one hymn or another, especially this time of year.”

“We celebrated with music, too.” Christina slid her biscuits onto the child’s plate. “We would spend Christmas Eve going through all the carols and hymns we knew, singing along while my adoptive ma accompanied us on her piano.”

“Did you ever learn to play?” Elijah’s gaze met hers as he slid half of his potatoes from his plate to the child’s.

“Yes.” The memories warmed her and made what was lost closer. “I’m not nearly as good, but I can pound out a decent hymn or two.”

“Decent?” He wasn’t fooled. “Something tells me you can play better than that.”

“I’ll never tell.” Merry chips of periwinkle twinkled in eyes as sweet as blueberries.

“How is our patient doing?” Doc Frost burst into the room. Elijah had been so absorbed, he hadn’t heard a single footstep approaching. Absorbed by Christina’s beauty, as any man in his right mind would be.

“His appetite is just fine,” she quipped. In the soft light, her gentle nature shone through. Her rosebud mouth, perfectly made for smiling, curved upward in the corners like a cupid’s bow. “Okay, I really am curious about your name. Just your first one. I can trade my green beans for it.”

“Green beans?” the boy said. Her joke almost made him smile. “That’s not a very good trade.”

Her chuckle was like a chime of carillon bells. “Well, I suppose I could give you my dessert.”

“There’s dessert?” The boy’s eyebrows shot up and he crammed a too-big piece of roast into his mouth.

“Chocolate cake.” Christina cut a small bite of roast with the side of her fork. “With chocolate icing.”

“It’s a deal.” The boy swallowed and sat back against the wall. The desperate look around his eyes faded, as he was no longer quite as hungry. “I’m Toby.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Toby,” she said.

“Well, Toby, if you don’t mind—” the doctor gestured toward Christina “—I’m going to borrow your new friend for a few minutes. But I promise you, the marshal will see to the doling out of dessert.”

“I excel at that,” Elijah quipped, sending the doc a grateful nod. “I’m a scrupulous lawman except for when it comes to chocolate cake. I just thought I should give fair warning.”

“You wouldn’t try to keep a slice for yourself, would you?” Christina rose gracefully, bringing her plate with her.

“Me? No way. I’d never do anything like that. Never.” He winked, like a man feigning to do otherwise.

“I’ll have you know, I’m immune to those dimples of yours.” She swept away from him, unaware that he couldn’t take his gaze from her. “Any woman would be mesmerized by them, but not me. So there’s no need to go flashing them.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He watched her leave the room with a swirl of her skirts. Down the hallway, over the pad of her step, she spoke to the doctor.

“I’ll find a way to pay you, Doc, I promise you.” Her quiet promise brooked no doubt. “Maybe I could clean your office in trade?”

“I’m sure we can work something out,” the doctor answered, their voices fading to silence.

“She’s really nice.” Toby stuffed a biscuit into his mouth. “She’d make a real good ma.”

“I’m sure she would.” A little arrow of pain speared him. Best not to think about Christina as a mother or as Tom Rutger’s wife. “It’s time you and I had a little talk.”

“Are you g-gonna arrest me?” Big green eyes widened. Toby glanced from window to door, like a trapped animal ready to bolt. “I didn’t mean it, honest. I wished after I’d done it that I could take it back.”

“You didn’t mean to startle the horses.” Elijah focused his attention on the kid. Toby shook his head, as if that wasn’t what he’d meant to say. Curious about that, Elijah continued on. “No one else was hurt...no harm was done except for the teamster who had to restack his load.”

“Oh. I’m real sorry about that, too. So, you ain’t gonna throw me in jail?”

It was tough to gaze into those worried green eyes and not feel something. It had to be hard being all alone. Elijah couldn’t help caring. “Want to tell me what happened to your folks?”

“Uh—” Toby focused on the door. He jabbed another hunk of biscuit into his mouth, making it impossible to talk.

“Let me guess. They passed away.” Elijah cut another bite of roast. “Was it very long ago?”

“Last year.” Still chewing, Toby hung his head. “We all got sick, Ma, Pa, me and my little brother. I was the only one to get better.”

“You don’t have anyone looking after you?”

“Nope.” He speared the last slice of beef on his plate. “After I ran off from the orphanage, I been doin’ okay on my own.”

“Let me guess. You rode in on one of the trains?”

“I’ve been riding the rails since summer.” Toby set his fork on his empty plate. “I haven’t got caught before. I run real fast.”

“Want to tell me why you were running out of the mercantile?”

“No.” Misery hung on him.

Not hard to figure what was going on. He’d have to talk to Lawson over at the mercantile next. “Toby, we’re gonna have you stay the night here, where the doc’s nurse can take care of you. Come morning, we’ll get you a fine breakfast and talk some more. Is that okay with you?”

“Talkin’ won’t do no good.”

“Just goes to show you’ve never talked much with me before.” He took Toby’s empty plate and stood. “I’ll go fetch your two pieces of cake from the other room. You know you’re safe here, right, Toby?”

“I guess.” He blew out a sigh. A line of tension remained burrowed into his forehead.

“Nothing bad will happen to you here. You have my word.” Elijah paused in the doorway. “So sit tight until I come back. Do I have your word on that?”

Toby nodded. “Mister?”

“You can call me Elijah.”

“You ain’t gonna send me back to the orphanage, are you?” The kid’s voice wobbled with worry.

“Not tonight. Your head has to hurt, so we’ll talk about all that tomorrow. Tonight, you’ll be safe and warm. I promise.”

The boy nodded, as if in agreement. Elijah wasn’t sure he could trust him. Best to speak with the nurse and make sure she kept a sharp eye on the door, just in case. Wind gusted against the siding as he left the room, a reminder of the frigid conditions outside. There was something about the kid. He’d come across runaways in his job before, but this one affected him.

He followed the sound of Christina’s dulcet alto. “...I really had hoped it was just a bad bruise,” she explained to the doctor. “Guess I was wrong.”

“You’ll need to keep icing it on and off to get the swelling down.” The doc tucked a final piece of gauze into place and stood. “There. When you take her home, Elijah, make sure and get her ice from the kitchen.”

“I’m perfectly capable of getting my own ice,” Christina said, rolling her eyes.

“I’ll take care of it.” Elijah leaned one shoulder against the door. The sight of her filled him with peace. It took every scrap of his willpower to keep from tracing the curve of her cheek and the adorable tip of her chin with his gaze. Stay unaffected, Gable, he thought, straightening his spine. “So, it was broken. I was right all along?”

“Yes, yes, no need to comment on it.”

He intended to say something light and breezy in return, but a loud whap, whap, whap echoed down the hallway behind him.

He stepped into Toby’s room to find the window open and the shutter slapping the siding. No sign of the boy. His clothes and coat were missing from the closet. He really hadn’t thought the boy would escape and leave chocolate cake behind.

Elijah hung his head. That was one dangerously cold winter storm and Toby was out in it. Alone.

* * *

“Elijah.” Christina spotted the marshal in the small crowd of the late-breakfast rush at the boardinghouse. The red-hot stove struggled to heat the dining room. The morning might be cold, but the storm had blown out. A small blessing. “Elijah.”

“Christina.” The broad-shouldered marshal turned in his chair, and the smile that stretched his granite face when he spotted her drove the chill from the air.

“How’s your arm feeling?” He bounded to his feet, looking strappingly handsome in a dark shirt and denims. Likely every woman in the room swooned at the sight, and it wasn’t only her.

“It’s better. See, I can wiggle my fingers. The swelling is going down. The doc is going to be happy, since now he can splint it properly.” She fiddled with her unbuttoned sleeve cuff, showing the makeshift splint over her broken wrist. “I can tell by looking at you that you didn’t find Toby. I worried about him all night.”

“Me, too.” Shadows darkened his eyes. “I looked everywhere I could think.”

“How late did you search?”

“No idea.” He pulled out a chair at his table. “The storm finally turned bad enough that I had to stop.”

“He’s a smart boy.” Christina couldn’t ignore the fact that Toby knew how to get by. He’d been on his own for a good while. “He would know to find shelter and warmth.”

“He was safe and warm where he was.” Elijah’s face compressed, a hint of his inner regrets. “I should have kept a better eye on him.”

“I should have, too.” She laid her hand on his, which rested on the back of the chair he held out for her. An act of friendship, that was all, a gesture of comfort. So why did it feel like more? Touching him was like coming home to a warm fire after being out in winter’s cold. She removed her hand and settled into the chair he held for her, troubled by her reaction to him.

Maybe it was because she’d been alone, that’s all. Of course it felt nice having friends again. First Annabelle and now Elijah. Tears of gratitude burned behind her eyes, even as she felt sad for Toby. Her life was changing for the better. She had friends, and in Tom she would have a husband and a home. The chance for a family and a happily-ever-after. She wanted that for the homeless little boy, too.

“Here, you may as well finish up the bacon.” Elijah shoved a small plate in her direction.

“Oh, no, I just came in for tea.”

“Fine, but I ordered too much. I’d hate to see it go to waste.” He shrugged, as if it didn’t matter to him, but it did. He turned over the clean cup at her place setting and lifted the small teapot sitting in the center of the table. “I was about to head out and continue my search for Toby.”

“Judging by the way you’re dressed, it’s your day off.” She studied the offered plate but didn’t move to take it.

“Yes, I had time off for the holidays, so I may as well use it for Toby. I don’t have much else to do but stay in and read.” He poured himself a steaming cup of tea, too.

“You read? Me, too. At least when my ma was alive, if we weren’t sewing or knitting, we were reading. Staying up way too late at night because we couldn’t put our books down and come morning, we talked books over the breakfast dishes.”

“You had a happy home.”

“I did. The Lord was watching over me for sure when Ma and Pa came to choose a child.” She looked wistful instead of sad, as if hoping the past could come around again. “I had it once, and it’s what I’m wishing for again.”

“I’ve noticed that you make your own happiness, Christina Eberlee.” He liked that about her. He wished he could get past the knot of worry in his gut.

Please let Tom Rutger be good to her, he prayed. He wanted the man to do his best for her. She deserved that and more.

“So, what do you like to read?” she asked after bowing her head for a brief, silent grace. “Adventure novels?”

“Good guess. I can’t put them down.” He nudged the sugar bowl in her direction. “I was going to start The Last of the Mohicans last night, but—”

“But you were out looking for Toby.” She stirred sugar into her tea. “I could hardly sleep last night thinking about him out in the cold.”

“Me, either. I’ve already put in some time trying to track him down. Will do more when I leave here. We’ll see if I can’t bring in the little renegade.”

“He’s far too young to be on his own. You know he’s been that way for a while. His clothes, his hair. How skinny he is.” She thought of the past five months spent sleeping in the shelter of alleys or stables. Toby deserved better. “And what about the bruise on his head?”

“The doc said he looked fine—it was just a hard bump, but he needs to be looked after. I’ll find him...don’t worry. I won’t stop until I do.”

“What will happen to him then?” She already knew the answer, her stomach knotting as she took a bit of bacon.

“The orphanage.” Elijah shrugged, a helpless gesture. “That’s standard protocol. When there are no parents or guardians, a minor child is surrendered to the territory.”

“I know.” Dark, dim memories of a cold bed and bland food, of stern, overworked women taking care of too many children threatened to well up. Memories she’d thought she’d forgotten. She didn’t want that future for Toby. There was something about him, a sweetness, that grabbed at her heart. “Maybe you know of a family around here looking for a little boy?”

“Times are hard. Many folks are having a hard time providing for the kids they have, but I’ll ask the sheriff. He knows everyone in this town, so he might know of someone.”

“At least there’s a chance.” The boy’s round face and owlish eyes flashed into her mind, an image of him staring at the wall and refusing to talk, refusing to trust. She would pray hard for him, she decided as a familiar man caught her eyes. He made his way into the room, dressed in a shaggy fur coat.

“Tom!” She took a step without realizing she’d stood. She was halfway across the dining room without realizing she’d left the table. She spun around, laughing at herself. “Elijah, I’ll see you later. Thanks for the bacon.” She held up the strip clutched in her good hand.

“Anytime, Miss Eberlee.” He went to tip his hat to her, only to find he wasn’t wearing one. Embarrassment crept across his chiseled face in a pink sweep.

He was funny. Her heart thumped an extra beat, likely in anticipation of being with Tom. He’d come to take her to see her new home.

He stood framed by the doorway with his bulky coat unbuttoned, his blue flannel shirt and red suspenders showing. Tension bunched along his jaw. Fury darkened his face. He did not look glad to see her.

Tom didn’t look glad at all.

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