by Jillian Hart
James muttered beneath his breath. He blinked but when he opened his eyes again, the elves were still here. He felt like a fool sleeping in when the womenfolk were up and working the store.
Customers walked by. “Is that him?” sniffed one elderly woman into her handkerchief. “Is he the one who found the baby?”
“Yes.” Maggie appeared suddenly and placed her hands on the woman’s shoulders. “This way to the almonds, ma’am.”
Maggie smiled at James, rolling her eyes in exaggerated humor, mouthing, “Sorry.”
He swung his legs to the floor, his feet still in cowboy boots, and whispered over the sofa as she passed, “Why did you let me sleep here for so long?”
“I couldn’t carry you up the stairs, now, could I? Neither could Mr. Billings.” With her blouse tucked into her skirt, the fabric accentuated her shape.
“You could have woken me.”
“Well, you looked too sweet on the sofa with your eyes closed. And I figured you could use the sleep.”
He groaned with embarrassment. Running a hand through his untidy dark hair, and bending his neck to get the cramp out, he growled at the staring children. Screeching with laughter, they fled.
Ducking into the hallway, James found the spring room with its clean supply of water and towels. As he brushed his teeth, he overheard Maggie’s sisters in the room next door, making up the bed that Mr. Billings had slept in overnight.
“Why do you suppose he’s not married?”
“Maybe he’s not the marrying type.”
“That’s what Cliff said just two months before he proposed. They all say that at first. It’s in their blood.”
The younger sister laughed. “Maybe he’s afraid of women.”
“Afraid? A big strapping lad like James Fielder? The only thing he’s got to be afraid of is No-settling Maggie. She’s too picky even to go out with him.”
“She’s the one who’s afraid. What do you figure she’s so afraid of?”
“With all the men who’ve asked for her hand, land sakes, I wish I knew.”
“Maybe she’s afraid they’ll take all her money.”
Tamara sighed. “Poor Maggie, I wish life were easier for her. I wish she’d let us take care of her the way she takes care of us. It’s as if when Pa died, he left her to watch over us. Let’s see if we can surprise her this year with something special on Christmas Eve.”
The younger sister yelped. “What a wonderful idea.”
The women finished making the bed then left the room as James rinsed his mouth and stared into the wall mirror at his reflection. His black hair needed a good comb, and a shadow of a beard was already visible beneath his jaw.
What was he doing here? Last night, why had he entertained thoughts of pretty Maggie Greerson?
Business was good for Maggie, and she had a lot of money. He had little. He wished her well, but money had never meant much to him.
Money ruined relationships. It had ruined the loving relationship between his parents, and it had ruined his relationship with them.
Christmas often did the same thing. People struggled to prove they could feed their families extra, that they could outdo their neighbors with their generosity on extravagant foods, that they could buy fancy clothing they could ill afford.
His parents had felt like failures that they couldn’t produce surprises, not even an extra bowl of fruit, on Christmas morning for their children. As a young man of thirteen, James had felt that same abysmal failure when his hopes of working alongside his father had been permanently shattered. James had signed up to work the mines and help provide for his three younger brothers, but a week into it, he’d caught bronchitis, then pneumonia so bad that he’d taken to bed for ten months of recovery. Instead of being a help, he’d been a weight around their necks.
The medicine had cost more than his parents could afford, so much that they had to take in boarders for a year, begging strangers on the trail to stay with them in their home, and the “sickly” child, as he’d been labeled. The arguments between his folks had increased and had never stopped.
Now James was old enough to support himself, trapping and living the solitary life of a Mountie. He was in great physical health and could outrace and outmaneuver any man. The poster he’d seen for enlistment was what drew him into it: Looking for single men who seek adventure and honor in their lives.
Single men. The federal government didn’t want married men and did everything they could to discourage men from marrying. With permission, officers were allowed, but for enlisted men who’d started out as James had at the fort in Edmonton, traveling for days into the countryside to track thieves or murderers, a wife and family were considered liabilities. They couldn’t live at the fort, so would have to live in their own home. Much of the Mountie’s time would therefore be spent chopping firewood and hunting for food, providing safety for his own family when he should be dedicated to law and order for the community.
But James was now a sergeant and things were different. His commanding officer would likely give him permission to marry and to settle into easier duties around any fort in the territory, but James had grown accustomed to the travel and he liked his nomad life. He went where he pleased and wasn’t responsible for any family but himself. And most of all, money didn’t matter.
James washed his face in the basin of cool water.
But every year at Christmas, he still sent money home to his mother, hoping to make up for his failure in the mines to someone, even though his parents now lived apart and his brothers had long ago moved to the West Coast.
It seemed strange to James to be caught up in Maggie’s world, a stranger looking in at a household full of the things he’d never been good at—sharing in an overabundance of food and gifts, when for the true meaning of Christmas, all you had to do was look in your heart. That didn’t cost a penny.
James strode out of the room to the back door and grabbed his Mountie-issue buffalo coat. He glanced over the crowd, over the heads of the children who’d spotted him and were rushing his way, then to the women weighing sacks of spice. His gaze settled on the baby lying on the counter. She was awake and being entertained by Maggie, who held a rattle above her head.
“Where are you going?” asked young Rebecca by his side.
“To check if anyone in town knows anything about the baby. Has anyone here mentioned they know her?”
“Aunt Maggie’s been askin’, but no one knows a thing.”
“I’ll start at Gilbert’s Restaurant. Please tell Maggie I’ll be back in a few hours to check in with her.”
James slid into his big fur boots, then walked out into the glorious outdoors. He took it all in—the busy horse plows, men with shovels, crunching snow, icicles dangling from every treetop and a brilliant blue sky. He heard his dogs barking and playing in the penned area across the street at the Billings household, and knew they’d be fine there for as long as he needed them to stay.
The ice storm had covered everything it’d touched and the town looked mystical, as if James was looking at it through a snowy crystal ball. The wind, warm and gentle, soothed his face. Normally, a day like this would thrill him, but today he wished he had someone to share it with.
He sighed. Sooner or later, money always came between people. He knew that. And the fact was, he and Maggie didn’t have a lot in common.
Maggie wondered where he was. James was taking his time in town and she was beginning to wonder if Rebecca had gotten the message straight. It was already one-thirty, everyone had eaten lunch, and yet James was nowhere to be seen. She wondered if he’d gotten word about the baby’s family and was perhaps heading off in that direction.
In the small kitchen nestled behind the spare bedroom on the first floor, Maggie cleared the lunch dishes off the table.
“Here,” said Tamara, lifting the homeless baby from the cradle that Cliff had brought in from their home an hour earlier, “let me care for the child for a bit. Stretch your legs while I feed
her.”
Maggie would have gladly held on to the sweet girl forever, but allowed her sister the pleasure of tending to the little one while she tended to the dishes.
And thought of James.
Whenever there were crowds of people around, James disappeared like a caged animal seeking refuge in the woods. What on earth made him so wary? She realized he was simply doing his job today, but she knew darned well if he didn’t need to return to the store for the sake of the lost child, he wouldn’t be returning.
She scrubbed a plate ferociously.
She was so different from James. She loved families and people and little children’s voices, and sharing large dinners and planning for social events. James had never shown up at a dance for as long as she’d known him. He never spoke about his family, he didn’t drink, he never went to the saloon, he turned down invitations for wedding receptions and dinner parties. It was always just him and his darn work.
He likely preferred the company of his dogs than the company of a woman. Sure, Maggie had occasionally heard of him escorting a woman out, to an officers’ dinner at the fort, but his courtships never materialized into anything permanent.
The more Maggie thought about it, the more irritated she grew. There weren’t many men in this town who could carry a conversation with her like James could, who could hold her imagination with their words. Why did that ability have to be wasted on a man she’d never be interested in? And how could he be so knowledgeable about the world when he never seemed to be in the center of social activities, where people talked about these things?
Most of the men she met didn’t spark much feeling in her other than friendship. It irked her that James seemed to spark life into her just with a mere glance. Last night, she’d felt her cheeks heat the whole way up the stairs when she thought he was watching her, only to be severely disappointed when she turned around and realized he hadn’t been looking at her at all.
Some of the men who’d proposed to her were downright rude on how lovely it would be to have a wife who had a small fortune of her own.
But she was worth more to a man than just the sum total of her assets, wasn’t she?
Picky? Yes. So what was wrong with that?
She dreamed of a man who could sweep her off her feet and arrange romantic outings with family and friends, who loved to dance and listen to music, who loved everything about Christmas, and most of all, one who loved to socialize.
In short, she dreamed of a man the opposite of James.
Maggie dried off the last of the dishes, helped by Rebecca and the other children, when she heard the back door open and close.
“Maggie!”
It was James.
She raced out into the store. “Where’ve you been? Have you located the baby’s parents?”
“Unfortunately, not yet. I’ve spoken to just about everyone in town.” A shaft of sun from the window struck his hair, intensifying its deep rich color. He’d somehow managed to change out of his bulky furs into a tanned sheepskin coat. James held up two pairs of snowshoes.
“What’s this?”
“The true meaning of Christmas.”
The children giggled.
Maggie dried her hands on her apron, fidgeting with the waistband. “What do you mean?”
A smile softened his sculpted jaw. “I thought I’d give you a destination for the snowshoes, so you’ve got a purpose and won’t feel like a child. Although personally, I don’t see a problem with that.” James tapped Rebecca’s head lightly with a snowshoe and she laughed in return. “I’m headed to the fort to speak to the commander, Maggie, and the others about the baby. The roads haven’t been plowed there yet, but we can get through on snowshoes. Maybe someone there knows something we don’t. Would you like to come with me?”
Chapter Five
“Go ahead, Maggie.” Her older sister nudged her.
With her skirts brushing the floor, Maggie took a step closer to James and his snowshoes. He blocked the entire doorway with his size, but his charming smile did nothing to ease the nervousness she had about leaving her store for hours.
Maggie objected, “But the baby needs—”
“We’ll take good care of her,” Tamara insisted. “When’s the last time you went outdoors? You’ve been cooped up in the store for the last month, preparing your wares for Christmas. It’s a gorgeous day. Go on.”
James held out a pair of webbed shoes. The ones he offered her were three feet long, but his were a massive four.
She took one by its leather thong strapping. “But I don’t know how to snowshoe.”
James rubbed his hand across the back of his neck. She found herself extremely conscious of his capability and appeal.
“If you know how to walk, you’ll know how to snowshoe. Just think of these as extra-big feet that’ll keep you from sinking into the snow.”
“But the snow’s got an icy crust to it. It’ll be too slippery to use them.”
“Not with your weight bearing down on them. These are ideal conditions. It’s much harder to snowshoe in powdery snow, where you tend to sink in.”
“You see?” said Tamara, untying Maggie’s apron.
Her younger sister came up from behind and grabbed the apron, as if she was in cahoots to get Maggie out the door. “It’s not too far, so you won’t be gone forever. A mile there and a mile back. Wouldn’t you like to speak to some of the policemen in person? You were saying that maybe some of the miners up in the area where the baby was found might know something.”
She did have a point, thought Maggie. And there weren’t many customers in the store today, what with the storm and the blocked roads tying most folks to their homes.
James spoke matter-of-factly, but he didn’t look at Maggie when he added a comment about her underclothes. “You’d best put on two pairs of long johns beneath that skirt. And double wool socks. You can use the extra pair of moccasins I brought in my bag.”
She pushed back a wayward strand of blond hair. “Where did you get all these things?”
“My shoes and moccasins came from my pack at Mr. Billings’. I exchanged my big fur coat for this thinner sheepskin because it’s fairly warm outside. For you, I borrowed the smaller snowshoes and moccasins he had stored away for his grandson.”
“What about your huskies? Don’t you want to take them with you?”
“They’ll have to stay put for now. I’m not sure how much ice is out there, and I don’t have snowshoes that fit their paws.” James winked at the children and they laughed at the image.
Even as Maggie wondered why James wanted her to go with him, a whirl of excitement started up inside her. The vibrant blue sky and the clear icicles dangling off the rooftops and every pine tree visible gave her an urge to explore the wonderland. And spending time alone with James, well, seemed exciting.
Minutes later in her long johns and wool socks, Maggie held the tiny girl in her arms to say goodbye. The baby’s wide blue eyes were a mirror of Maggie’s own growing enchantment. “I’m doing this for you.” She stroked a soft cheek. Maggie looked to the others in the room. “You know, we really should name her.”
Standing at the door tying up his knee-high moccasins, James straightened to full height. He pushed his wide shoulders back and studied her. “I don’t know about that. You—we—shouldn’t get too attached.”
Maggie wondered how he could be so aloof with the infant. “We can’t keep calling her ‘the baby.’ We don’t know how long it’s going to take to find her folks. Certainly not until the roads are cleared. I was thinking something along the lines of Christmas. Something like Holly.”
“Baby Holly,” said Tamara, waddling closer, rubbing her huge belly. “I’m sure her parents wouldn’t mind a temporary nickname. If she were mine, I’d be so grateful she was warm and safe, I wouldn’t know how to repay you.”
Yet, James peered at Maggie so intently that her breathing grew uneven. He shook his head softly. “I’m not so sure about naming her.”
His family had never enjoyed the tight bonds of kinship that wrapped these sisters together. James regretted that, but there was no use dwelling on things past.
“Hold on there, Maggie. Let that second horse pass with its plow, then I’ll show you how to lace the snowshoes to your moccasins and how best to move.”
“All right.” Maggie walked along the boardwalk, her moccasins barely a whisper over the shoveled path that the other storekeepers had already cleared. The roof of the boardwalk cut the high afternoon sun in half, casting crisp shadow lines on her swirling skirt. She’d hiked her skirt high on her waist, which gave her a foot of clearance from the ground, but also exposed her slender legs.
“Here, sit on the steps and I’ll help you lace up.”
Maggie sat and James kneeled at her feet.
Dressed in a red wool coat that came to her knees, and a red wool hat that she’d pulled over her braided hair, Maggie raised her face to the sun. He watched her close her eyes and bask in its warmth. “You were right, I won’t need my fur coat.”
“With the exercise, we’d be sweating in no time.” He marveled at the change in the weather that a melting chinook wind could bring.
James lifted her left foot and placed it on his lap. Suddenly, sitting at Maggie’s feet made James feel odd. He’d never laced up a woman’s shoes, nor gotten this close to a hiked-up skirt. In public.
Maybe she suddenly realized the forthright nature of the gesture, for she coughed, looked around to see if anyone was watching, then grew quiet.
Removing his fur mitts, James reached for a snowshoe. “These are good and strong. They’re made from tough, seasoned ash. The webbing’s made of caribou. If you tuck your toe into the loop at the front, like so—” James took her small foot into his large hand and helped her “—it’ll keep your foot in place, but you can get out of it in a hurry if you tumble, so you won’t wrench your ankle. And then we just have to tie it loosely.”
