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

“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.