Janet Tronstad - Mail-Order Holiday Brides - Home for Christmas / Snowflakes for Dry Creek

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?”