by Jillian Hart
“Why didn’t you choose to marry, instead of heading off?”
“I never had a beau. I was too young and sheltered.” The darkness enveloped her, as if helping her to keep her secrets.
So, that eliminated a love match gone wrong and the shame of an out-of-wedlock child. He guided her down the steps at the end of the boardwalk and into the snowy street. He could not see enough of her face to guess more. “But you have lived here a good length of time. You could have chosen to marry.”
“Oh, not marrying was never my choice.”
He couldn’t imagine it. “Thick-skulled men must live in this town.”
“I have always thought so.”
He changed sides to take the brunt of the brutal north wind and caught a glimpse of her smile. Something about her tugged at him—sympathy. That was what it was. That was all it could be.
The road they had turned down was one long stretch of homes huddled beneath barren trees. The glow from windows glinted and shone on the falling snow. It was a pleasant night with their footsteps a hush in the music of the snowfall. It was pleasant having her at his side.
“What about you, Mr. Jones?”
Her question startled him. He wasn’t used to accompanying women along town streets or conversing with them. He was on unfamiliar ground. “There’s not much to tell.”
“What about your family?”
“I have none.”
“No family? Not anywhere?” Her dulcet, gentle voice was like the sun dawning.
He was like the night. So why did he find himself leaning toward her? Why did he answer? “I have a ward. Her name is Holly.”
“You are not alone, then. I’m glad. You’re a good man, Mr. Jones, and you don’t deserve a solitary life.”
His conscience winced. She was an innocent type who probably saw good in everyone. “You don’t know me, Miss Sims.”
“I can see more than you might think. You stop to help a stranger and then you return her reticule.”
“It was nothing.” And not without motive. Luck had oddly favored him tonight. “Truth is, I was watching you earlier and I saw what happened. I was too far away to come to your aid, but I could hunt the thief down. I could have left your reticule at the sheriff’s office, but I wanted to meet you.”
“Oh.” She blushed. “I’m glad you did, so I could thank you. I hope you enjoyed the meal tonight. You were uncomfortable.”
“Did it show?”
“Only a bit. I don’t think anyone else noticed.”
“I’m not used to crystal and silver. I’m more of a tin-and-steel sort.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that.”
Perhaps some would say Mr. Jones was rough around the edges and quite disreputable-looking, but she was charmed. She had never felt quite this way before, as if she were dancing on spun sugar. “Then I’m keeping you from your ward,” she said. “You should have said something. She could have joined us.”
“Maybe another time.”
“I would like that.” She dragged her feet, slowing. They had reached her walkway. If only their time together could continue; it had passed so quickly. “Tell me about your little Holly.”
“She’s ten years old. Yay high.” He gestured with his hand. “Small for her age.” He came to a stop beside her and held up his free hand. “She can talk a tail off a mule.”
“How long have you been raising her?”
“Not long. It’s new to me. All of it.”
“I know that feeling well.” She recognized the sincere concern on Rafe Jones’s rugged face. “When my nephews first came to live with me, I was lost. I didn’t know what I was doing.”
“Yep, that’s how it is.” He smiled. In the dark shadows, his brief smile was breathtaking. His hard face softened. “She needs a home and I’m not a settling-down kind of man.”
“Then what are you going to do?”
“Get her a home.”
“I’m sure you will manage just fine.” She pulled her house key from her reticule. “Love for them gives us strength. It surely guided me through the years. I think the boys have turned out well.”
“You have done a fine job with them.”
“And you will do the same for your girl.” She knew it was true.
A hint of his smile remained, softening the hard look of him. Although it was too dark to be sure, he seemed to watch her carefully. As if with interest.
Hope beat painfully, afraid to take flight. She had been disappointed many times before. Did she say good-night while she was still ahead? Before he realized she really was as plain as she looked?
“I’ll be staying around awhile.” He reached out and brushed a snowflake from her eyelash with the pad of his thumb. A tender act.
Sweetness sifted through her. “Then perhaps I will be seeing you again, Mr. Jones.”
“I’m sure of it.” He tipped his hat to her, the way any suitor would. “Good night, Miss Sims.”
“Good night.” Her knees wobbled again as she forced her feet to carry her up the walkway. Snow crunched beneath her shoes, but she could hardly hear it for her heart’s drumming. Her cheek still tingled from his brief touch.
Thank you, Father, for bringing Mr. Jones into my life. Please watch over him this night.
As she slipped the key into the lock and gave it a turn, she glanced over her shoulder to catch sight of the man striding away. He was shrouded in shadows and lost to the dark, so there was only the faintest outline of him at the street’s end, strong of shoulder and powerfully intimidating. She no longer felt like a thirty-year-old spinster, washed-up and past her prime.
What a fine birthday present!
If she never saw Mr. Jones again, she thanked him for that.
Softer feelings would have stuck with him if he had let them. Rafe tromped up the back stairs, shedding snow as he went. He didn’t care for how he was about to change Cora Sims’s life. He was certain there could be only one reason a nice lady like her would leave a baby. A terrible injustice had been done her when she had been alone and unprotected, and as soon as she had the baby—Holly—Cora had moved to this peaceful little town to forget and start fresh.
He felt sorry for her. That was what the tug of emotion was, nothing more. He couldn’t see what to do next. His gut was all twisted up over this quandary. He unlocked his door and shrugged out of his coat.
The door to the next room was ajar and the fall of light drew his eye through the dark. A few steps forward and he could see the girl in her worn-thin flannel nightgown kneeling beside her bed. Her patched flannel cap crowned her bowed head, and all he could see was the shine of her long, honey-gold hair—very similar to Cora’s.
He felt an unfamiliar twist in his chest. Yep, Cora Sims was one fine woman. Nothing like many proper women who took one look and cast him in the same lot as outlaws. No, when Cora looked at him with that kind way of hers, he felt ten feet tall. Like the man he wished he could be. He hung up his hat and sat down on the bed. The sagging ropes gave a halfhearted squeak beneath his weight as he pulled off his boots.
Holly was still praying. He could see her hands folded as she chattered on to God. If God listened to anyone, Rafe was fairly sure He would listen to that girl. She sure could rattle on and make a man smile.
“And bless my ma,” Holly went on, fast as a speeding locomotive, “cuz she had to leave me and she might be awful lonely. I know I sure am. I don’t care if she don’t got much, and does she like to make pancakes? Mostly please, please, please, God, make her love me.”
Rafe set his boots aside, his chest tighter than it had ever been. He leaned a shoulder against the doorjamb and nodded once to the elderly woman—the hotel owner’s ma, Mrs. Plymouth—who was sitting in the far corner of the room.
“And most of all, God, please bless Mr. Rafe. I got my ma, but he don’t got no one.”
That was new. He’d never been prayed for before. He cleared his throat to let the girl know he was home. Her prayer became a blur of word
s that ended with a breathless “amen.” She bounced to her feet and thundered across the floorboards.
“Mr. Rafe! Did you find her? Did you?” The girl danced in place, bobbing with excitement.
It couldn’t be good for her to get all worked up like that. He scowled at the hope bubbling out of the girl. Hope was a false promise, something that didn’t exist. He sure hoped she wasn’t headed for a hard fall. “I’ll let you know when to start hoping. I told you it will take time.”
He thought of Cora standing alone on her front step. He’d felt comfortable talking with her. That was odd. He wasn’t a man who spent much time in a lady’s company. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that she hadn’t looked at him as if he belonged on the wrong side of town.
He rubbed the back of his neck, troubled. He couldn’t get the look of her out of his head, or the jeweled honesty he’d seen in her eyes. He kept remembering how her complexion was porcelain fine and how her rosebud mouth was usually gently smiling.
“I know, but it’s awful hard to wait. I love my ma so much. She ain’t gonna be nothin’ like Mrs. Beams.”
He took in those big eyes with their shining expectation and stepped back into the shadows, where he felt safer, where he belonged. “You’re only going to make it tough on yourself, getting your hopes up. If things don’t work out, they are going to come crashing right down. Do you hear?”
“Y-yes, s-sir.” She blinked hard against the pooling tears. “I didn’t mean to get excited. I just love my ma so much.”
The girl didn’t even know her ma. He rubbed his neck again and blew out a sigh. It didn’t help. The tangle was still in his gut. “You go to sleep and we’ll see what morning brings. I’m tired of those rags you keep wearing. Tomorrow we’ll go get you some new things.”
“Okay.” She was still blinking as she padded toward her open door. “Good night, Mr. Rafe.”
“Night.” He stayed still a moment or two with his eyes closed, trying to make the coiled knot in his mid-section relax. There wasn’t a chance of that, so he paced to the window and eased back the curtains.
As he gazed out over the dark street and the steady snowfall, he listened to the bed ropes creak as Mrs. Plymouth tucked the girl into bed. There was low conversation, some murmurings. He didn’t pay attention to it as he drew out his wallet and counted out enough greenbacks for the sitter. He kept his feelings as cold as the frozen world outside, numb to the beauty of the falling snow and to the houses tucked in for the night, lamplight glowing like cozy squares of tranquillity.
Somewhere out there was Cora’s house. He thought of her safely locked behind closed doors, maybe making a cup of tea and sitting down to do some needlework before bedtime. The tangle within him became a cold, steady pain. He didn’t know what it was about the woman, but she was starlight next to his shadows. He let the curtain fall closed, feeling more sorely alone than he could ever remember feeling.
Chapter Four
Cora couldn’t remember a busier morning. She was bundling up a few basting jobs for Joanna, who sewed for her, when the bustle in the shop seemed to still. The pleasant din of conversation faded. She felt one side of her face prickle, as if remembering Rafe Jones’s slight touch. When the bell above the door jingled, she already knew who was approaching her shop with the confident sound of boots and jangle of spurs.
Rafe Jones. He was black from head to toe. Black duster jacket. Black Stetson. Black gloves. Black shirt and trousers. The shop fell silent as he perched in the open doorway, his guns at his hips. Behind him lurked a thin slip of a child with eyes too big for her narrow, peaked face.
His ward. Holly. The pair of them moved into the shop, and Cora softened at once. The poor thing looked as if she’d been half starved and worked too hard, and not that long ago. The delicate skin beneath the girl’s eyes looked bruised, and she appeared to be all bones. When Rafe had said he hadn’t been in charge of her for long, he’d obviously meant it. Lord, please bless that man.
“Look who it is,” Joanna whispered, seeming terribly pleased. “He must really like you to walk into a dress shop. Most of the men in town won’t do it.”
“I’ll see you later.” Cora winked, refusing to say more. No doubt Joanna had plenty of ideas of her own. She skirted the edge of the counter. “Mr. Jones. Welcome.”
“Good to see you.” He tipped his hat to her, watching her with little show of emotion.
Probably due to the dozen curious women who stared openly at him. His strong shoulders were braced, and he looked quite untroubled by the attention. Then again, he was a brave man, used to holding his own with outlaws. A women’s dress shop might not intimidate him overly much. She liked that about him.
“You must be Holly,” she said to the little girl.
“Yes’m.” Holly bobbed her head and kept close to her protector. “Mr. Rafe, you sure they got dresses for me here?”
“Pretty sure,” he rumbled.
The shop seemed less silent as Cora held out her hand to the girl. “I can’t think that Mr. Jones knows a lot about dresses. Would you like me to help you find what you need?”
Big blue eyes widened. She nodded once, the only sign of consent.
“That’s it? Cat got your tongue?” Amusement curved the corners of Rafe’s mouth. The sun chose that moment to break out between storm clouds, casting him in a golden ray of light that came through the window. “All the way here, she about talked both my ears off.”
“I’m sure she and I will find plenty to say, don’t you worry. What did you need for her today?”
“Everything.” He took off his hat and stared at the brim. “We’ve been on the road. Haven’t had much time for buying anything but necessities.”
“I can take care of that. Did you want to stay? I have coffee keeping warm on the stove. Or you can come back in an hour or so. That will give us time to find what she needs.”
“That’s right kind of you. I can see you’re busy.”
“For you, I don’t mind. Holly, there’s a basket of candy right on the counter. Why don’t you help yourself.”
“Really?” Pleasure put color into her face. “Thank you, ma’am!”
Unmistakable affection melted the iciness of the man’s gaze. He might look dangerous, Cora thought, but she suspected Mr. Jones had a soft heart. She was pleased that with all the other shops in town offering children’s clothing, he had chosen hers. As the girl trotted up to the counter, she turned to him. “How much were you looking to spend? I don’t want to surprise you with the bill.”
“A hundred. That enough?”
“I can get her plenty for that. How long will you be staying in town?”
“Depends.”
“My inventory of girls’ dresses has been picked over. This is my busiest time of the year.”
“I don’t want frills for her. Good, sensible clothes.” He appeared aloof, with his hands fisted loosely at his sides, but he watched her as if she were the most interesting woman on earth.
My, that was definitely unusual. His scrutiny befuddled her brain and made her pulse rickety. Rafe Jones seemed intensely serious as he swept his hat back on his head and met her gaze with unapologetic frankness.
“I’ll be back inside an hour,” he said. “I’ll look forward to seeing you again, Cora.”
Not “Miss Sims,” now. There was no deferring politeness in his tone that she was used to receiving from all the other men in town. No, Rafe Jones tipped his hat to her and smiled, giving her a hint of dimples before he turned on his heel and stalked out the door.
Her heart rolled over in one slow, painful movement.
“I like that man.” Joanna was at her side, speaking low. “He means business.”
“You mean courting business.” Saying those words aloud felt like inviting bad luck. She had placed her hopes on a man’s attentions before. Still, there was something different about Rafe’s attentions. “Remember the rancher out at the edge of town who was only interested in a convenient
wife for his children? He thought I would be interested, being so old, as he phrased it. Then there was Mr. Landry, who thought I wanted to help him run his pig farm. He figured the sale of my shop would give him the funds he needed to make his payments to the bank.”
“Those men were never interested in you.” Joanna turned to watch the man cross the street. “Mr. Jones seems quite taken. He cannot keep his eyes off you. Mark my words, he’s sweet on you. Is that his daughter?”
“His ward.” It took effort not to watch the confident stride of the man weaving between traffic toward the gunsmith’s shop. The girl had unwrapped a piece of candy and was sucking on it carefully and gazing wistfully at the display case full of colorful ribbons. Cora realized she hadn’t asked if Holly was his niece or some other relation. There was a whole volume of things she didn’t know about the man.
“Let me know how it goes.” Joanna smiled broadly as she tied her bonnet ribbons. “I want a full report. My guess is that Mr. Jones stays in town longer than expected to start courting you.”
“It’s more likely he will ride on out of town and not miss me one bit.” That was the practical side of her talking, the side that had learned to carefully protect herself. It was entirely too easy to get her heart broken. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Joanna.”
“I’m keeping you in my prayers.”
Cora waited until her friend was out the door before she headed over to the girl. “Do you like hair ribbons?”
“Yes’m. I used to have two sets to match my dresses. My pa bought ’em for me.”
Two sets. Not a lot by her customers’ standards. Cora held out her hand. “Let us go take a look at the dresses in the back. When we find what you like, we can match some hair ribbons to them. How does that sound?”
“Mighty fine.” Pretty blue eyes lit up, bringing the child alive. She was cute, with a round cherub’s face, an uptilted nose and delicate bone structure. She would grow into quite a beauty. Her blond hair, which curled out of her twin braids, was mostly hidden beneath a sagging wool hat.
