Montana Man

“Do they have mashed potatoes here, too?” Josie gazed up at her uncle, as if she had to make sure. “And not the lumpy kind?”

“The smoothest in the entire town.” He tucked her into the chair beside Miranda. “Does Baby Beth like potatoes, too?”

“She’s a baby, Uncle Trey. She’s got a bottle.” Josie rolled her eyes.

Trey’s grin flashed, sending shafts of heat straight through Miranda’s heart.

The waitress appeared to take their order, on friendly terms with Trey. When she left, Trey leaned across the table, the candle flickering between them, and caught hold of her left hand.

He turned her palm over in his to study a gash, puffy and darkened by dried blood. “Let me bandage this for you. You could use a few stitches.”

“It’s not that deep.” She slipped away from his touch. “I’ll tend to it myself.”

“You’re the independent sort. I noticed that.” He brushed his finger against the edge of her sleeve. “That’s a bad bruise on your wrist. Let me look at it. Did you do that escaping from those agents?”

Fire scorched across her skin, and she hauled her injured hand beneath the table. Out of his reach. “I cut my hand on the rail when I pretended to jump.”

“What did you really do?”

“I swung over to the ladder on the side of the car. It was within reach.”

“Pretty dangerous.” But judging by the light in her eyes, she’d taken pleasure outwitting those Pinkerton agents. “I’ve never met a woman who could climb up the side of a moving train.”

“It wasn’t moving very fast.” She dipped her chin enough to hide the shadows in her eyes.

He wondered what injuries lay within, ones he couldn’t see. “You stayed on the roof the entire train ride?”

“No, I climbed down into the baggage car and took shelter there.”

“Did you hurt your wrist on the ladder, too?”

“You’re relentless, do you know that?”

He pushed back his chair. “Just add it to my list of character attributes.”

“Flaws, you mean. All right, I was crawling across the roof of one of the passenger cars and a gust of wind pushed me into the metal lip on the roof.”

She shrugged, as if she’d done nothing unusual. She didn’t fool him, she was a woman of courage and grit. A combination he admired.

He knelt beside her and cradled her injured hand in his. Her wrist was delicate, the skin like silk. She still felt cold, oh so cold.

“I don’t need a doctor’s help.” She tried to wrestle her arm from him, but she lacked strength.

She was injured. “You could have a fracture, Miranda.”

“I can move my fingers just fine.”

He unbuttoned her sleeve and ran his fingertips across the inside of her wrist. Her skin was purple-tinged, but her wrist wasn’t broken. “Remember what I said on the train?”

“You said a great deal on the train.” Her skin seemed to burn beneath the gentle stroke of his finger.

“I’m your good-luck charm for as long as you need one. So relax and let me take care of this.” He grabbed his medical bag from beneath the table, then worked with efficiency.

Swabbing the wound stung a little. Then he wrapped the white muslin around her palm and between her thumb and forefinger, then around again. His fingertips grazed her skin. She burned and tingled from the contact.

He was strength and gentleness. He was bold and caring. He deftly knotted the last bit of muslin into place and then moved away. It felt as if the heat drained from her body and she thirsted for more of his touch.

She’d never had this reaction to a man before. Why was she feeling this now?

Throughout the meal, Miranda watched the windows. The blizzard beat against the panes with inhuman force. Once, she saw a shadow against the glass but couldn’t be sure.

She tried to relax and enjoy the meal while Trey teased smiles from Josie and tried to do the same to her. But her stomach was twisted so tight she could barely eat. She couldn’t shake the feeling the bounty hunter was out there, even though she’d seen him reboard the train as it departed.

Any number of his men could have disembarked during the storm, as she had. The snow had been so thick, she never would have seen them. What if they are out there looking for me?

Earlier, she felt certain she’d evaded them. But instead of quietly finding a room and staying hidden, she was here in plain sight in the light and the warmth. Anyone could see her through the glass.

This was a bad idea. And growing worse every time Trey flashed her a charming grin. Had she ever seen a more handsome man? She couldn’t think of one. The square cut of his jaw, the strongly chiseled face, the jaunty grin and sparkling eyes, that was just for starters. His shoulders looked sculpted from pure bronze, his personality glittered with humor and radiated compassion.

Every time he flashed that one-sided grin, she felt hotter. More aware of herself as a woman. Sure, she was lonely. But she would have to be in a coma not to respond to this mesmerizing man.

She didn’t even get the chance to pay her share of the bill. The waitress didn’t even bring it. Apparently Trey was a frequent patron because he was billed monthly.

“I never have time to cook,” he explained, draining the last of his coffee cup. “I’m always working.”

“A doctor’s life.” Miranda knew it well. “How long have you been practicing here?”

“Five years. A small-town doctor isn’t a rich man, but I like what I do.” His voice rumbled with affection. “Josie, you’ve got dark circles under your eyes. Time to get you home.”

“Can Miranda come, too?”

“Well, she’s certainly welcome.” Trey quirked one brow.

“No.” She saw right through that look of his. “I’m not staying in your house, Mr. Dashing and Debonair.”

“I guess there’s the small matter of your reputation.”

“Exactly.” Heat flushed her face and a flicker at the window caught her attention. Someone on the boardwalk? Or just her imagination?

Trey watched her carefully. “The wind is getting worse. If this keeps up, the whole town will shut down. It’s almost there now. Look, there’s the sheriff.”

A definite shadow moved outside the window. The door swung open. Frigid wind drove through the dining room. The rugged lawman shouldered the door closed and crunched through the ice thick on the floor. The waitress hurried to speak with him.

Maybe it had been the sheriff outside, and not a bounty hunter.

Trey circled the table and wrapped one hand around the back of her chair. She stood, and she tingled from head to toe. “Are you going to stay here? This is a good inn.”

“I might.” She gazed at the window, remembering the frigid walk from the train depot. “I don’t want to go out again. I just got warm. Do you and Josie have a long walk home?”

“Not far at all.” Trey scooped the little girl up into his arms.

She stifled a yawn. “We don’t hafta go outside again.”

“Sorry, Red.” Trey’s affection came light and gentle. He settled the girl on his hip. “That big yawn is a sign. I’d better get her home and in bed.”

Now that it was time, she didn’t want them to go. For a little while, the loneliness in her heart had fled. But it was creeping back again. And a long lonely night stretched ahead.

Miranda followed Trey through the empty dining room. The lawman left with a bang of the door, and the waitress announced they were locking up early. Sheriff Kelley was closing down the town.

“You’ll be comfortable here. I know the innkeeper.” Trey reached for his jacket. “Rest easy, Miranda. I’ll come by tomorrow.”

She almost told him not to bother but held back the words. Why complicate things? She had her life to fight for. He had Josie to protect.

Trey shrugged into his coat. “Let’s get you wrapped up, Red.”

“Baby Beth needs her cloak, too.”

“She sure does.”

Miranda watched as Trey patiently sorted through the bundle of wool, found the doll’s matching cloak and handed it to Josie. He knelt down beside his niece and helped her into her heavy cloak. With care, he wrapped the scarf around her neck and worked the cap over her head.

His tenderness wasn’t feigned, but came from the heart. As Josie snuggled in Trey’s strong arms, sheltered and safe, Miranda’s arms felt empty, and she couldn’t help dreaming. Couldn’t help wishing that one day there would be a child of her own she could hold and comfort and make the world right for.

“I didn’t see any of those men following you get off the train. I thought you might like to know.” Trey faced the door. “Do you want me to watch over you? I can stay.”

“Not necessary.” She was better off alone. “Good night, you two.”

“’Night, Miranda.” Josie peered over Trey’s shoulder as he pushed out the door.

The night and storm enfolded him, stealing them away from her. The door clamored shut, snow drifted to melt on the floor, and once again she was alone.

“This is your house?” Josie stood in the dark, clutching her doll tight, her voice wobbly.

“It looks better if you can see it.” He felt through the dark for the match tin and lit a lamp. Light danced to life, illuminating the log walls and sparse furniture.

Not a home for a child, that was sure. He’d have to do something about that. First thing tomorrow.

“For tonight, you’re going to sleep in my room.” He didn’t mind the sofa. He swept the girl onto his hip, knowing her leg had to be hurting.

“Don’t I get a room?”

“Sure. But we’ve got to get it all ready for you. I can take you shopping as soon as the storm breaks.” He shouldered open the bedroom door. “You like to shop, right?”

Josie nodded, her fine red curls catching on his whiskered chin.

Already, he’d disappointed her. In truth, he hadn’t been prepared when his sister’s lawyer contacted him. His work occupied every spare moment of his life lately and he’d barely had time to make full-time arrangements with Mrs. Stoltz. Now he regretted not doing more.

He pulled back the dark green quilt. The clean flannel sheets smelled of soap and winter sunshine. “C’mon. Climb in.”

“I’m still wearin’ my clothes, Uncle Trey.” Josie rubbed her eyes, tired and sleepy. “I need my nightie.”

“We don’t have it yet. Your trunks are still at the train station because it’s too dangerous to have someone deliver them tonight. You can sleep in your long underwear. They’ll keep you warm.”

“Okay.” Josie sounded weary, and he knelt to pluck at the row of buttons marching down her back.

In no time the dress and her shoes were off and laid on the seat of the nearby chair. He carried her and Baby Beth to the waiting bed, unlatched her brace and helped her settle between the sheets.

“I could read to you for a while, if you want.” He reached for one of the books on the nearby shelf, looking for one appropriate for a little girl. “I know you like being read to.”

“I’m tired.” Josie rolled on her side, her arms wrapped tight around her doll. “G’night, Uncle Trey.”

“Sleep tight, sweet one.” He pulled the quilt up to Josie’s chin. Wetness dampened his fingers.

“I miss my mama.” Her words came muffled by the covers. “I miss her so much.”

“Me, too, honey.” Trey laid his hand on her back and felt the shake of her sobs. She didn’t want to be held, but stayed huddled in a ball until sleep claimed her.

When he reached to turn down the crystal lamp’s wick, Miranda’s locket caught the light, burning steady and bright. When the wick sputtered and the flame died, the locket held a reflection for just a second longer, then darkness filled the room.

Chapter Five

T he blizzard continued to howl between the buildings like a trapped wolf. Wrapped well against the early morning temperatures, Miranda kept her head bowed to the wind and tried not to slip on the boards.

Many merchants hadn’t opened up yet, or were still out attempting to shovel off the boardwalk. Snow drove so hard it was impossible to see the street beside her.

It was her lucky day. The mercantile was open. A striped awning sheltered the front door, where a freshly shoveled path led into the store.

A bell jangled overhead, the scents of wood smoke, leather, the pickle barrel and a blend of hundreds of other scents welcomed her. A potbellied stove in the middle of the store glowed red, puffing out heat.

“’Mornin’.” An older gentleman straightened from his chair near the warmth.

“Good morning.” She slipped between rows of canned goods and tugged her shopping list out of her pocket.

“Miranda!” Josie limped toward her, locket sparkling against her blue wool dress. “Are you shoppin’, too?”

“I firmly believe that shopping is a girl’s duty.” Warmth gathered behind her breastbone, and she knelt so she was eye-level with the child. “You’ve got an empty basket.”

“I can’t decide. I’m tryin’, but it’s hard.” Josie’s brow wrinkled. “Uncle Trey doesn’t know anything about shoppin’.”

“Men never do. It’s one of their many flaws.”

“I heard that.” Trey’s boots knelled on the floorboards. “My flaws are only good ones. And Josie, I can, too, shop.”

Miranda gazed up the strong column of Trey’s legs, encased in soft denim, past the breadth of his chest. Her heart kicked just from looking at him. Heavens, he was a handsome man.

“You can’t, either, Uncle Trey.” Josie shook her head. “I gotta have curtains and not plain white ones.”

“White curtains?” Miranda lifted one brow. “Surely you can spring for a nice print.”

Trey held up his hands. “What’s wrong with white? It matches everything.”

“I see your problem, Josie.” Miranda tried hard not to look at Trey again. “It looks like you need help with that flawed uncle of yours.”

“I may be the best doctor this side of the Badlands, but I’m confused. I don’t know what’s wrong with white. We can have white curtains, white quilts.” Trey gestured toward the ready-made items spread out on a back counter. “Maybe blue?”

“But it’s for my bedroom.” Josie grabbed hold of Miranda’s hand. “’Cept we don’t got a bed yet, and I’m only five.”

“You need help, Josie. You can’t trust a man to do a woman’s job.” Miranda took a breath, heart pounding. “I could help you out this morning. I have a few hours to spare until the train comes.”

“The train?” Josie’s brow furrowed. “You can’t leave. You just can’t. You got off at my new town and everything.”

Miranda gently brushed soft red curls away from the girl’s sad eyes, feeling Trey’s scrutiny like a physical touch. “This isn’t my new home, Josie, not like it’s yours. I have to go.”

“Oh.” Josie blinked, and tears gleamed there, honest and aching.

Trey’s face darkened, the jaunty grin gone from his mouth, leaving only a stark strength. “Miranda, where do you plan on going? There won’t be a train today.”

“I have a schedule right here in my pocket.”

“The passes are closed due to the storm.”

“Closed?” That didn’t sound like a good thing. Not good at all. Maybe for the train, but not for her. “The trains will run as soon as the storm’s over, right?”

“It’s not that simple. You’re in Montana Territory now. The word is that there won’t be a train for a few days after the storm or more. Maybe an entire week. We’ve got twelve-foot drifts out there.”

“A week?” She couldn’t stay here for a week. That would give the bounty hunters too much time to backtrack. Now what did she do? “I can’t leave until the storm clears.”

“No one leaves this town or enters it until then. We’re rimmed by mountains on all four sides, and the teamsters’ routes take as long to clear as the tracks.”

“We’ll see.” She’d been in worse straits and figured her way out of them.

“Will you really help me, Miranda?” Josie clung tightly to Trey with one hand, and Baby Beth with the other. “Mama made my other bedroom, and now I only got Uncle Trey.”

Trey gazed down at her, sizzling male power. “Yes, Miranda, help us. I’m woefully inadequate.”

It had been so long since she’d felt like this, full and alive, as if she could make a difference. As if she had worth.

But what if one of the bounty hunter’s men had spent the night here, too?

Either way, she was trapped in this town until the storm passed. “Okay, I’ll help you out. Let’s take a look at these quilts again. Tell me which ones you like.”

“I like the dotted one.” Josie ambled away from Trey’s grip. “And the flowers. Do you like them?”

“Absolutely.”

Miranda let Josie study the two patterns she liked for a long moment. Trey didn’t leave. He stood behind them, his presence as hard to ignore as the blizzard outside. Every hair on the back of her neck tingled, as if his look were a touch.

Why did her skin sparkle, as if waiting for his caress? After how Lewis had tried to hurt her, the last thing she wanted was a man’s affections.

Every time she looked up, Trey’s gaze met hers. Every time Josie limped to him, eager to show her uncle every item she’d decided to buy, he grinned.

Why on earth did his smile make the emptiness in her chest fade away?

The door blew open with a bang. Miranda protected Josie from the wind as Trey gestured for them to enter his home. Snow drove past them onto the rag rug in the entry, and Miranda took Josie’s hand, careful to keep her from slipping as she stepped with her bad leg on the slick wood floor.

“Let me tend to Josie.” Miranda knelt down to unbutton the girl’s ice-caked cloak. “It’s too cold to leave the deliveryman outside.”

Trey kicked the door closed, wrapped in snow. “Doesn’t look like Mrs. Stoltz is here right now. I hate to ask—”

“Go help the deliveryman.” Miranda nodded, peeling Josie out of her cloak. “I have a feeling they don’t usually do this in the middle of a storm.”

“Whoppler owes me a favor or two.” He winked, knelt down to ruffle Josie’s red hair. “I’m going to need a doorman.”

“I can do it!” Josie lit up. “I know I can.”

“The floor’s awful slick.”

“I can be careful.”

Affection flickered in his eyes before he tugged open the door and struggled outside into the mighty storm.

“Are you excited to get your new furniture?” Miranda tugged off Josie’s rubber boots.

“Uh-huh. It’ll be like I have a home here now.”

“I’m glad.” Miranda hung the little cloak and scarf onto wall pegs to dry. “Can you go fetch me a towel? I’ll get this floor cleaned up, so you won’t slip.”

Josie took off, her gait hurried but uneven. Miranda slipped out of her wraps, taking a moment to look around. The windows were dark, even for midday, casting the room in shadows.

Honeyed log walls and floors kept the bitter cold out. She knelt before the gray stone fireplace and stirred the banked embers. Exposed to air, they glowed. When she added kindling, they became fire.

She lit a lamp, and she could see the room better. A fine carpet softened the wood floor. The overstuffed sofa looked comfortable, the perfect place to relax after a long day. A book lay open on one of the cushions.

What would it be like to live in a home like this? Snug and cozy, safe from the bitter storm and all her troubles? To curl up on a sofa and read for hours?

“Here’s a towel.” Josie, breathless with excitement, walked as fast as her injured leg would allow.

“We’d better hurry.” Miranda set aside her daydreaming.

She barely finished drying the floor for Josie when a bump sounded at the door. Miranda opened it and let the little girl hold it open for the men.

Trey backed into the room, carrying a heavy piece of furniture. Whoppler’s youngest son held up the other end, and the men plowed through the room.

“That’s my bureau!” Josie’s eyes shone.

An hour passed before the delivery sleigh was unloaded. Each time Josie’s happiness grew a notch, her sadness faded away. Each time Miranda felt a little brighter.

“That’s it.” Trey burst through the door alone and dropped a bundle on the ground. “The blizzard looks like it’s blowing out. It’s hard to tell, though. It feels like a three-day-er.”

“A what?”

“A three-day blizzard. We get them all the time.”

“Uncle Trey, you look like a great big snowman!” Josie clapped her hands.

“Watch out, or I’m going to melt all over the floor. Who would treat Mrs. Watts’s rash then?” Trey swiped at his jacket, but the driven snow was so thick, it didn’t crumble. “I can’t find my buttons.”

“Lucky for you, I’m here.” Heart full, Miranda swept the broom’s bristles across his chest. “I’ve always wanted to take a broom to a man.”

“I bet you have.” A slow smile crooked his lips and his gaze. Why, it looked as if he was staring at her mouth.

Heat flushed her face. She didn’t lift her gaze from the broom as she swatted the stubborn snow. It wouldn’t break apart. Like a miniglacier, it remained on his chest, immovable, while she could feel his gaze on her face, soft like a touch.

She knew that touch. She’d felt it before. It was the way Lewis had looked at her when she’d thought… There. The snow cracked. One more determined swipe sent the whole of it smashing to the floor.

“Miranda, come see!” Josie pulled aside the oilcloth protecting her purchases. “Oh, the flowers look so pretty.”

“Pink roses are my favorite, too.” Miranda set the broom aside, but Trey caught her hand.

It was impossible not to look at him. Not to feel a spark of attraction, a spark she didn’t want to feel, when his gaze fell to her mouth. “Have I thanked you today?”

“You don’t need to.”

“I saw the men after you. I saw how badly they wanted you. I just want you to know—” His voice dipped, so only she could hear. “I appreciate what you’re doing for Josie. Look how happy she is. Because of you.”

“I’m sure it’s because of her dashing, debonair uncle with the big billfold.”

“Yeah, but I couldn’t have picked out the curtains to match the quilt. Or the ten other things you helped her choose. You did a good job with her.”

“Hurry up, Uncle Trey.” Josie, the shades of grief gone from her face, hugged a lace pillow in one arm and Baby Beth in the other. She limped toward her bedroom door. “I wanna see it all perfect.”

“Then we’d better get busy.” Trey’s lips brushed Miranda’s cheek, quick and light, but the contact left a snap of sensation on her flushed skin. “That’s for Josie’s smile.”

Even though she knew what all men were beneath the polish and charm, she liked him. Heaven help her, she really liked him.

Mrs. Stoltz returned in time to hem the curtains while the soup warmed. By the time the noon meal was ready, the new curtains, tiny rosebuds printed on creamy white cotton, were, too. Mrs. Stoltz promised to add ruffles later.

Trey hung the curtains across the wide window after the meal, according to his niece’s careful instructions.

The rose-and-green braided rug graced the gleaming wood floors in the room’s center. Josie’s white four-poster bed was tucked in the corner, next to the warmer inside wall. The thick quilt sported appliquéd roses against rosebud-print calico blocks, a match to the curtains at the window.

“Oh, Miranda.” Josie clasped her hands, swirling awkwardly on her injured leg. “It’s so pretty!”

“You really like it?”

“I do! It’s not like my old room at all, so it won’t make me sad.”

Miranda felt a mix of emotions, shades of sadness for the girl’s loss.

“It’s a good thing we had Miranda to help.” Trey laid his hammer on the brand-new bureau. “I might have talked you into the polka dots. We’d have had a disaster on our hands. Guess what?”

“What?” Josie gazed up at her uncle. “You got me a surprise?”

“You’re too smart. I can’t get nothing past you.” Trey gently tweaked her nose. “This should keep you and Miranda busy for the rest of the afternoon. Unless you two have designs on the rest of Mrs. Stoltz’s chocolate cake.” He cast his gaze to her.

“The offer of cake is mighty tempting.” Miranda’s heart was warm, filled with the sweetness of the day.