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

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.”