by Jillian Hart
“Rumors tend to die down, especially when they’re never true to begin with.”
The hallway was a welcome escape. Once she was standing in those cloying shadows, she could relax a smidgeon. At least if a stray emotion crossed her face, he might not notice. Bittersweet, this love she had for him, at once lifting her with joy and weighing her down with regret.
“Good morning,” she said quietly, daring to meet his gaze. “I shall see you and Holly later.”
He nodded once in acknowledgment, nothing more, and stood granite still. All in black, he blended with the shadows almost completely. It was torture to think of what might have been. They were kindred souls, more alike than different. If only he could have fallen in love with her, she thought, forcing her feet to carry her down the hall toward the stairs. If only. He really could have been the one.
“Holly?” He rapped on her door. “You up? I hear you moving around in there.”
“Yes, sir.” Her voice was croaky. No doubt from all that sobbing most of the night through. The door opened to show a small girl with sorrow on her face.
Her hair was mussed, still in the braids from yesterday. The tear streaks had been scrubbed from her face. Her gaze went straight past him to the saddlebags loaded up and ready on top of the dresser. She sighed heavily, as if resigned to her fate. “I got all my things. S’pose we best get goin’.”
Some might think she was strange, wanting to head back to a place where she had been poorly treated. He knew it was simply practical to face straight on what couldn’t be changed. His chest cinched tight with prickly, expanding paternal feelings.
“You might want to change into the new dress Cora finished for you. She dropped it by this morning. She said she didn’t want you to get chilled in this weather.” He was determined not to tell her the rest, let Cora have the pleasure of breaking the good news. But Holly’s pooling tears made him reassess things. He knelt down so he could look her in the eye. “There now. There’s no sense to crying.”
“I know. I can’t s-stop.” She reached into her skirt pocket and pulled out something shiny. Three copper pennies lay on her palm, catching the lamplight. “This is for you, Mr. Rafe.”
“Aw, Holly, I can’t take your money. I didn’t find your ma. If I can’t find her, she’s nowhere to be found. I’m sorry.”
“I know.” Holly sniffed and dropped the money on the dresser by his saddlebags. “But it cost a lot to feed me and stuff. And the dress.” She flattened her palm against the wrinkled green wool she wore. “Do I gotta give it back?”
“No, it’s best you keep it.” Hurt was steaming off her like heat from the stove, poor thing. He knew exactly how it was to hurt like that. “You best figure out a way to stop those tears, too, because someone here in town offered to let you live with them.”
“Instead of Mrs. Beams? Really?” She drew up, hope chasing away her sorrow. “I’m a real good sweeper. I wash dishes up real good so there’s not a single spot left on ’em. If I stay here in town, do you suppose I could see Miss Cora now and then? If I’m real good?”
“I reckon that could be arranged.” He was itching to tell her the truth, but he was a man of his word. He wouldn’t break a promise to Cora for anything. “Does this sound fine by you?”
“Yeah!” Holly flung her arms around his neck. “Thank you, Mr. Rafe. Thank you so much!”
Hard not to be affected by that. He patted her on the back awkwardly—he had never been hugged before—then peeled her off him. It was wonderful to see her happy. “You’re welcome, little one. This will be a good place for you.”
“As long as this missus is nicer than Mrs. Beams, I don’t mind.”
The girl thought she would still be working for her keep. He didn’t know how to fix that without tipping his hand. “Trust me, this is much better than where you were.”
“Yes, sir.” She stared at the dresser top, full of his things. “I guess this means you’re leavin’.”
“Right after I drop you off. That means you had best change into that new warm dress while I bundle up your things so I can get going. I have a long ride ahead of me.” He stood and handed her the folded lilac-colored dress.
Her eyes lit up when she saw the frilly collar and dainty ruffles at the wrists and hem. Then the tears were back, and he rubbed a hand over the top of her head. He knew what it was like to be overwhelmed with too much feeling. When you were used to a tough, lonely road in life, kindness was a rare and great mercy.
“You go in your room and change.” He turned his back so she couldn’t see how hard this was for him. He wasn’t used to attachments; he wasn’t used to having to let them go, either. The snow beat at the window with a vengeance, and he was glad of it. Nothing like riding in a vicious, freezing storm to make a man forget his troubles.
Not that he was ever going to completely forget, he thought as he scooped up Holly’s pennies and dropped them into one of his extra packs for her things. It was still snowing outside, coming down like heartache. He could just make out a woman with a brown hood and coat stepping out onto the street.
Cora. His soul brimmed with sadness, remembering how beautiful she had been in the lamplight. Her gentle kindness had done more than capture his heart. It had changed him. Unless he figured out a way to reach out to her and soon, he’d spend the rest of his days trying not to remember the woman he had left behind.
Chapter Ten
It was snow hitting her lashes and nothing else, Cora told herself firmly as she crossed the street in front of Rafe’s hotel. She had enough on her mind with having Holly come live with her. She did not need to dwell on what had never been hers to begin with. Rafe Jones might have claimed her heart, but she had not claimed his.
The wind gusted, howling against the building’s eaves and whipping down the street. Snow scudded in pristine clouds and tangled with her skirt ruffles. She stumbled the last few paces across the empty street and gladly took refuge in a small alcove. She brushed the snow off her face and the front of her coat. Then the hair on the back of her neck bristled, as a shadow detached itself from the dark corner of the tailor’s shop.
Panic spilled into her veins. She recognized the shape of the broad-brimmed hat and the curve of an unshaven jaw. A cigarette flicked onto the boards at her feet, and before she could take a single step, his hand hooked around her shoulder, dangerously close to her throat.
“You don’t listen so good, lady.” Krantz’s voice was as gritty as his face. He was unwashed and reeked of alcohol. “I told you not to talk to the sheriff, so you had that bounty hunter do it. Well, word is he’s leavin’ town and now you’re in real trouble. I’m not goin’ to jail over a skirt like you.”
She gulped, panic turning to terror. She wanted to run, but his fingers were biting into the dip between her neck and her shoulder, holding her captive. His eyes were empty and cold as he thumbed back the hammer of his revolver. When the cold metal pressed into her temple, she bit her bottom lip, refusing to whimper.
“Here’s what you’re gonna do.” His fingers tightened without mercy, forcing her to her knees.
Streaks of pain shot down her arm and up her neck, and she blinked hard against it, trying to make sense of what he was saying.
“You’re gonna go to the sheriff and tell him you were mistaken. You get those charges dropped. If you don’t, I’ll—What the—?” The gun whipped away from her temple and flew out of his hand.
She watched in amazement as Rafe grabbed the man by the throat and lifted him off his feet. She had never seen such a thing. He radiated strength and controlled fury. He was invincible as he tossed Krantz on the ground and put a gun to his head.
Thank God for Rafe, she thought. Thank the Lord Rafe was unharmed and she was, too.
“Are you all right, Cora?” he bit out, breathing hard as he handcuffed his quarry to a hitching post.
“Y-yes.” Her hands shook so badly, she couldn’t press them to her face to hide her fear or her awe of the man. Her careful
control was shattered. Relief shivered through her with enough force to make her teeth clack together. She sat down completely on the cold boards. Maybe if she propped her elbows on her knees, she would be able to hide her face from him.
“Cora?” He came closer, his stride fierce enough to vibrate the boards. He towered over her, sheltering her from the sting of the gusting wind. “Are you hurt?”
Tenderness laced his words. His tenderness touched her deeply, and she had no strength, no defenses. They lay in pieces like the snow falling to the boardwalk in front of her. She took her hands from her face, wholly vulnerable to him, her deepest self revealed. “No, Rafe. I’m not hurt.”
“I thought for a moment there…” He helped her to her feet, agony stark on his chiseled face. “I saw the gun to your head and I didn’t know if I could get to you in time. If he had pulled the trigger…”
“He didn’t.” Her terror faded completely when she saw his. “I’m all right, Rafe. You stopped him. I think he was t-trying to scare me.”
“I see. He wanted the charges dropped.” He cradled her face with his hands.
She could feel his fear fading. Love warmed the storm gray of his eyes. His hands against her face were a tender comfort she could not deny. He cared for her. No, he more than cared for her. Everything within her ached for him. She needed this man the way the snow needed the earth, the way the sun needed the sky.
“I can’t get that image out of my head.” He rubbed at her temple, where the gun had been. “It nearly killed me. All I could think about was, what if I lost you. What if—”
She never knew what he meant to say next. His mouth slanted over hers, hovering a moment before claiming her. His kiss was pure sweetness, better than the most poignant poem and more poignant than the most moving hymn. Her soul sighed, her world hushed. A sense of rightness wrapped around her like hope. He was kissing her. Rafe Jones had chosen to kiss her. Thankfulness left her breathless as he broke away.
“Think of the rumors that are going to start up now.” She smiled. She was sure, absolutely sure. This was the man she would love for the rest of her life.
“Those rumors might get even worse after I move in with you and Holly.” His slow smile was paradise.
“Oh, you plan on moving in with me?”
“After the wedding.” His jaw tightened. Anxiety rolled off him. “That is, if you will have me.”
“Rafe, I—”
“Wait.” He cut her off before she could answer. She had to be sure. He couldn’t take it if she said yes to him on the power of emotion and changed her mind once she had a chance to think about it. He wanted to give her that chance now.
He took a step away and nodded toward Krantz. “Now you’ve seen what I am. What I do. I make my living with my gun. It might not always be that way, but it is right now.”
“Rafe, I know that. It’s you, the man you are, who matters to me.” Her fingers curled into his coat, holding on to him, holding on and not letting go. “You matter to me very much.”
That meant the world to him. Devotion to her filled his chest, nearly lifting him off the ground. “Enough to let me come courting?”
“I thought you said you wanted to marry me.” So vulnerable, with her heart showing.
He figured his was, too, and there was nothing wrong with that. He gently brushed stray curls from her face. “Sure I want to marry you, but a man ought to come courting first, don’t you reckon?”
“I do, but please keep in mind I would like a September wedding.” She gazed up at him with tears silvering her eyes, making her look more beautiful than ever. She made him feel ten feet tall, as if he belonged. As if he was loved.
“September sounds awful fine to me.” He kissed her again. Powerful tenderness moved through him like a hymn. Immeasurable caring serenaded his soul. When he broke the kiss, he didn’t move away. He liked being close to her, liked being the man who would love her, cherish her and protect her for the rest of his life. “I love you, Cora.”
“I love you, Rafe.” She meant it.
Even a skeptic like him could see it. “You’re the first ever to say that to me.”
“Believe me, it won’t be the last time you hear it.” She wrapped her arms around him.
He held her tight, sheltering her from the brunt of the wind, letting the rare gift of her love change him into a man who believed in happy endings. He held her, letting the snow envelop them, breathing in the security of her affection and cherishing the wisps of her hair like silk against his jaw, the warm puff of her breath on his neck and the way her cheek lay against the top of his chest.
His one and only prayer had come true. How about that? He pondered that a moment, feeling the wind at his back. As if heaven knew what he was thinking, the snowfall eased up, and down the street the church steeple appeared like a gentle reminder through the haze of snow. God hadn’t forgotten even a man like him. He wasn’t alone. Humbled, he drew Cora closer, doubly grateful for the blessing of her love.
“Are you sure we’re goin’ the right way?” Holly wrapped her arms around her middle, as if for comfort. Her face was peaked with worry, although he had tried to reassure her.
“I told you to trust me, didn’t I?”
“Yeah.” She didn’t sound too sure as they crossed the street.
“Morning, Reverend.” He nodded to the man of the cloth standing in the falling snow on the street corner. He dropped a few dollar coins into the collection pot.
“Good morning, Mr. Jones.” Hadly winked. “I expect I’ll be seeing you in church come Sunday?”
“I expect you will.” Rafe laid a hand on Holly’s shoulder to nudge her along the boardwalk past the land office and the shoemaker’s. “Don’t you worry. It’s not far now.”
“Miss Cora’s shop is right there. Can we stop in to see her first? Before we get to my new home?”
“Look at that. Cora’s spotted us through the window. Looks to me like she’s been keeping watch for us.” His soul filled with joy as Cora stepped out her door, a fancy blue shawl draped around her shoulders. Love radiated from her, making her unbearably beautiful. “You go on over to Cora. She’s got something to tell you.”
“Does she know who I’m goin’ to live with?”
He didn’t have to answer. Cora did it for him. She held out her hand. “Holly, I’ve been waiting for you. I need your help choosing things for your new room. Actually, you will have one of my nephew’s old rooms, but we will make it pretty for you.”
“For me? You mean I’m gonna work for you?” Holly hiccuped, caught between a gasp of surprise and a sob. “I’m a good sweeper. I can get every bit of dirt.”
Holly stumbled forward, talking at once and so fast she didn’t let the need for air or the tears rolling down her cheeks stop her. “I’ll sweep extra hard for you, Miss Cora. I can keep every bit of snow off your boardwalk. I’m extra good at windows. And I can learn to sew, I know I can, and help you so you will let me stay on.”
The child thought she wanted her to work? Undone, she pulled the girl close and held her tight. “No, Holly, you don’t understand. I don’t want you to work for me. I want you to live with me. To be my daughter, my own little girl. Wait, that’s not right. Rafe and I want you to be our little girl.”
“But nobody wants me like that.”
“We do.” She looked at Rafe and he nodded. They didn’t need words, because his heart was her own.
As snow sifted over her like pieces of perfection, she knew God had been leading her here to Rafe and to Holly all along. She had her very own hero, a wedding to sew for and a happy life ahead filled with true and everlasting love. She remembered to send a prayer heavenward. Thank you, Lord. She held out her hand, bringing Rafe closer. They were together, a family, and just in time for Christmas.
Epilogue
Christmas Eve, two years later
“Merry Christmas, Mrs. Jones,” Rhett Jorgenson called out from a few storefronts down, where he was sweeping his stretch of boar
dwalk. “Closing up early today?”
“Yes, thank the Lord. Merry Christmas to you, too.” She nodded to him as she locked the door. The manager she had hired to run the shop was a blessing. She didn’t need to worry about the bank deposit, which was good since Joshua looked as if he was waking up from his nap. Infinite love blazed through her as she watched her son. Tucked warmly in his carriage, he yawned hugely. His eyes fluttered open, he stretched and slipped back into sleep.
What a relief. For a three-month-old, he sure had a set of lungs. He could drown out the tolling of the church bells.
“Merry Christmas, Mrs. Jones.” A rich baritone rumbled behind her.
She warmed like melted butter at her husband’s voice. Rafe. He took her breath away, as he did every time she saw him. His black Stetson shaded his chiseled features, and with his brawny shoulders set and his powerful gait, he looked as if he could move mountains with a single push. The waning sunshine seemed to find him, and he walked in the light.
“Merry Christmas, Mr. Jones.” As always, great joy sparkled through her simply from being with him. She felt like those clouds sailing through the sky, light and swift and boundless. “Have you closed up your shop for the day?”
“Sure did. Gunsmithing isn’t in demand on Christmas Eve.” He reached her side and hauled her into his arms, not caring that they were in plain sight. His kiss was perfection. “I missed you, Cora. I don’t feel right if I’m not with you.”
“Neither do I.” That was what real love did. It made the world right. She needed him more than air and sunlight. She was not complete without him. Just as he was not complete without her.
Love softened his face as he settled his arm on her shoulders. They strolled down the boardwalk together, pushing their precious son in his carriage.
The jangle of a hand bell rose above the sounds of the busy town. Reverend Hadly’s son, Austin, stood on the street corner with a collection tin on a stand in front of him. “Merry Christmas, Mr. and Mrs. Jones. You wouldn’t be able to spare a few pennies for the orphan fund, would you?”
