Western Winter Wedding Bells

by Cheryl St. John, Jenna Kernan

  His inner voice scoffed. He pushed back the alarm at the realization that he just wasn’t ready to leave her yet. He slapped down a piece of Mrs. Milward’s blueberry cobbler before his deputy and told him to sit tight until he came back. Joey might not be the most ambitious of employees, but he loved dessert and he loved Addy as dearly as any grandfather. So Trent had not one moment’s concern over his daughter’s safety.

  “Could I check on Addy before we go?” asked his housekeeper.

  Trent nodded and watched her leave, appreciating her graceful gait and the gentle sway of her hips. Joey gave a low whistle. Trent glanced at his deputy. The man’s knowing grin nettled him.

  Trent felt his face heat. “What?”

  “That’s a real thing of beauty to behold.” Joey motioned toward the door with his head. “How’s she doing?”

  “Addy likes her.”

  “That girl of yours is smart—smarter than you. If Addy likes her, then she’s all right by me. Say, how long you think she’ll be willing to stay on as hired help?”

  Trent reached for his coat, then paused with only one arm in a sleeve as the implication of Joey’s words settled in.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “She’s pretty, shapely and she’s a widow in a town full of single men. Seems to me you’re going to be beating the men back with a stick. Tom O’Connor already asked me about her on my way over here.”

  Trent’s eyes narrowed. “You tell that bean-counter to stay away from my house.”

  “Should I tell that to Evan Dauer, too?”

  Now Trent’s irritation blossomed into a simmering fury. She was his. “I hired her and I’m keeping her.”

  Joe laughed. “Only way I know to keep her permanent is to ask her to marry you before somebody else does.”

  The ridiculousness of that suggestion had Trent huffing like an angry bear. He’d only just met her today. And he’d damn well look before he leaped this time. He tugged on his coat and plopped his hat on his head, but shaking off the idea proved harder than he would have thought, for it clung to him like a burdock.

  “You don’t marry her, I will.”

  Trent ground his teeth together, resisting the urge to knock Joey to the floor for his audaciousness. The man had never been able to get his goat before. He exhaled sharply and felt no better.

  “Be my guest,” he said.

  “Just saying, you could do worse,” Joe called.

  The creak of the floorboards above them alerted him that Mrs. Guntherson was returning. Trent waited as she descended the stairs, admitting to himself at least that she was a beautiful woman and realizing darkly that Joey was right. He’d have his hands full keeping other men from poking around after her like a bunch of damn tomcats. He chewed his lip as he considered this new dilemma.

  “She’s asleep,” said Mrs. Guntherson, her smile fading as she glanced at Trent, now frowning as he stood already dressed and waiting to go. “Oh, I’ll just be a moment.”

  Mrs. Guntherson snatched up her hat, tying the ribbons of her flimsy brown bonnet beneath her chin. Trent scowled, for the cap would do nothing to keep the snow from her head and did not even reach her ears. She might as well have slapped a tea cozy on top of her head for all the good it would do her. The dirty color of the wool was pale in comparison to the glossy dark luster of her hair.

  This woman was not a snappy dresser, that was certain. Not like Helen Wagner. Trent allowed himself to compare Viola to Helen. They both had pointed chins and large eyes, but Helen’s eyes were paler blue and she wore her blond hair twisted up in little corkscrew curls all around her face, instead of coiled into a practical knot. She had flashing eyes and expensive clothes. He’d spent a whole week’s pay once on a crimson bonnet and was happy to do it. What a blind idiot he’d been.

  His temper leaked out in his voice. “You ready yet?”

  Viola jumped and scurried forward, her face flushing. “I’m so sorry. Yes, I’m ready.”

  But she wasn’t. Her coat was still open and she held her gloves. Was it so warm in Cincinnati that women went about half-dressed?

  He reached for the edges of her black wool coat and drew them together, fastening one button after another. His years dressing Addy must have addled him. That was his only defense, for when he reached her bosom she gasped and drew back.

  His fingers stilled in midair and his mouth went dry.

  “Then you do it. But fasten it up. Temperature’s dropping.”

  She did and then drew on her gloves. Her figure was lovely, but she did nothing whatsoever to accentuate it. Her attire included no jewelry, ruffles or other gewgaws. She looked like a pretty little mouse, not at all like the brightly colored bird that had once attracted him. She was nothing like Helen—was she?

  The insistent pulse he felt low in his groin was the same, the heat of blood and lust coursing through him, but now he also had a squeezing sensation in his chest. And that was completely new.

  He held open the kitchen door and Mrs. Guntherson stepped out onto his porch. She stepped so crisply across the planking that he barely had a chance to close the door and catch her before she reached the icy steps.

  She startled at his touch on her elbow.

  “Oh,” she said.

  The woman seemed unused to assistance. Had no one ever pampered her? Helen insisted on it. And he’d borne it all, thrilled that she could love him.

  Love—ha. She hadn’t, not ever.

  “I am especially sorry you feel it necessary to obtain a room for me.”

  He snapped his attention back to her, realizing that they were stopped in the street and she now stood before him, staring up with those large enchanting eyes.

  Truth be told, he had little but the house his father had built. Paying her salary would be a strain, and the room was likely more than he could manage long-term. But he’d more pride than to say that, and he knew what came of sharing a room with a beautiful woman. Not that he regretted having Addy for she was the love of his life. But he had regrets—many regrets.

  Viola stared up at him, her eyes wide with worry.

  “Only proper,” he said, and set them in motion again. “Not far, just halfway down the main street, so you can walk on down to the house. I rise early, but not as early as Addy. I swear she’s up with the sun.”

  “What time would you like me there?”

  “Round six should be all right. I’ll get the stove started so it’s hot when you get there. Maybe you could make us my mom’s cinnamon crumb cake tomorrow with some eggs. Addy would like that.”

  Her footsteps faltered. “Oh, certainly.”

  “I’ll lay out the recipe.”

  Viola said nothing to this, but her head hung now and her shoulders hunched as if bracing against the cold. Her breath streamed behind her like an arriving locomotive. The walkway before the hotel had been shoveled and so he steered them to that. She glanced up at the sign swinging slightly in the wind and slowed to a stop.

  “Mr. Foerster?”

  She had chosen to pause in a dark spot between the tobacco store and the hotel. He glanced down the alley, but saw nothing moving. Early could be rough at times, though he’d seen big changes in the past three years. More businesses and less bars. The miners were mostly company men and not the wild prospectors who had blown through with the silver boom.

  “Yes, Mrs. Guntherson?”

  A little line formed on her forehead between her eyes, and the corners of her mouth tipped down. He had a sudden premonition that she was going to quit him before even giving them a chance, and his stomach twisted.

  “I know you are disappointed with me. I’m not what you expected. Perhaps it would be best—”

  The unexpected wash of panic loosened his tongue. He didn’t let her finish whatever she had meant to say.

  “Mrs. Guntherson, I am not the type of man to make snap judgments. I’ll admit you are younger than I expected and perhaps less…” He grappled for a word that wouldn’t let her kno
w that just standing by her made him long to pull her against him and kiss those pink lips. “Less matronly than I’d anticipated. But you are well recommended with exactly the sort of experience we need. And Addy is already taken with you. I hadn’t expected that, either.”

  Her eyes darted this way and that, as if searching for some escape. Fingers of dread choked off his air. What would he tell his girl if she left them?

  “If it’s about the hotel, you must understand, I’m only trying to preserve your reputation. Or is it the position?”

  Oh, dear Lord, had she expected Addy was older? He’d told her she was nearly five, hadn’t he? Now he couldn’t recall. She had been a wife and a housekeeper and a cook, but not a nanny. The children of her last employer were young adults, nearly out of the primary school. They’d need less attention than a child.

  “No, it’s not that at all. I just think you are disappointed.”

  “Where I come from you don’t quit on something without giving it your best.” His words mocked him as he recalled Helen and his attempts to make right his own mistake by marrying a woman who had no interest in being his wife.

  “Give it a few days. Once you’ve settled in and gotten the feel of the place, then we’ll talk again. Besides, Christmas is only ten days off. I wouldn’t like to think of you alone and without a position at such a time.”

  She glanced up now and he stopped breathing. Two silver streams of tears flowed down her pink cheeks and crystallized on the collar of her coat.

  “What’s wrong?”

  And then he was reaching for her. He grasped her shoulders, but somehow kept himself from drawing her in. But oh, he wanted to, wanted the feel of her pressed against him, wanted to mold those soft curves to his body so he could feel her warm breath on his neck. Instead, he reined in his longing. He was a sucker for a woman crying. Helen knew it and used it to her full advantage. But Viola made no demands.

  Joey’s words blasted him with the wind out of the alley. Only way to keep her is to marry her. Was that right? The very idea scared him more than any threat he’d ever faced. He could handle men, horses and Indians, but how could he handle a little girl who needed a mother and a woman he barely knew?

  He leaned close, staring at her mouth, wondering what it would be like to kiss her. Suddenly he released her and stumbled back.

  Her head dropped and she wiped her face.

  “I’m sorry for misleading you,” she whispered.

  A wave of foreboding surged through him, making him feel sick. “Misleading?”

  She nodded.

  He regarded her, trying not to be taken in by her affectation of misery. Women were actresses, all of them, and he should know better than most what they were capable of. His tone turned harsher than he expected.

  “If you’ve misled me, Mrs. Guntherson, you had best ex plain.”

  She shook her head. “You should not have to pay for a hotel room.”

  He released the breath he was holding. She was talking about her age then.

  “I’ve got a reputation in this town, too. Don’t see any other way.”

  She continued to stare at her woolen gloves.

  “Now, we best get you inside before you freeze solid.”

  He touched her elbow, trying vainly to ignore the sniffle and surreptitious attempt to wipe her nose.

  Trent hoped he had convinced her to stay, because his heart now ached as he fought against an unfamiliar optimism, one that he’d never again thought to allow himself. He’d only just met her, yet he knew he needed to figure out how to keep her without marrying her.

  Mr. Foerster escorted Eliza into the lobby. She stopped a moment to stare. They had erected a ten-foot pine tree before the main window and strung it with garlands of silver beads. Large pinecones had also been dipped in silver paint and something that sparkled. On the top sat a blonde angel with a cherub face and white feather wings.

  “She looks like Addy,” she whispered.

  Trent glanced in the direction of the tree and stared a moment, then headed to the registration desk, which was festooned with pine garlands trimmed with bows of red velvet ribbon. Even the chandelier in the center of the room had been decorated, holding a downturned bouquet of mistletoe.

  Boxwood, pine and sugared fruit covered the mantel above a cheery fire. Eliza wanted to curl up in one of the wingback chairs before the blaze with a novel. She eyed the shelves of books flanking the hearth, wondering if they were strictly decorative. Trent met her there, handing over a key and then laying out her responsibilities; cooking, cleaning, laundry once a week and seeing to Addy’s care through the year. She’d have one Sunday a month off and he would pay her monthly. After he had finished, he still lingered, staring at her in a quizzical way that made her heart beat painfully against her breastbone. Should she tell him the truth?

  He’s the sheriff, you ninny. Do you want to spend the night in a hotel or in his jail?

  She noticed him staring at her mouth again.

  “Is there anything else?” she asked.

  He shook his head, as one does to rouse the mind, and then tipped his hat.

  “Six,” was all he said.

  A chambermaid greeted Mr. Foerster by name, and she was not the first person; more like a dozen since he walked through the front door.

  The younger woman lifted Eliza’s small bag and preceded her up. Eliza climbed the stairs, feeling his eyes drilling into her back. Sure enough, he stood in the lobby speaking to a tall man, but his eyes were on her as if he knew she planned to sneak down the back stairs and disappear the moment she was out of his sight.

  She unlocked her room door and accepted her bag from the waiting maid, who seemed in a hurry to return to the lobby. Eliza knew why. What female wouldn’t want a chance to talk to Sheriff Foerster? The moment she was alone, Eliza continued on along the corridor, down the servants’ stairs and out the back door. She stood in the freezing yard beneath a cloudy sky, and already the icy cold bit through her wool gloves to nip at her fingers. Eliza stilled. Where exactly was she going?

  Nothing had changed but her location. Somehow, Flora, who had thought to pack Eliza’s things before the authorities arrived, had failed to gather her purse, which contained nineteen dollars and sixty cents. As a result she was penniless. The selection of garments could not be used to gain passage back to Butte. She considered begging a mule skinner to take pity on her, but did not like the idea of being alone on the road at night with an unknown man. Unseemly did not begin to cover it. The notion was downright dangerous. She could try to stow away, though it was exactly that idea which had landed her in the custody of the train conductor. And she might actually freeze to death on the way.

  Eliza crept down the alley and onto the main street. There she stilled. The snow had changed to a stinging sleet. There were no wagons out now.

  She glanced about, noticing things that had escaped her when she had walked with Trent. There were two saloons directly across the street. Rough-looking men strode from one to the other, the collars of their sheepskin coats lifted against the biting wind.

  A chill that had nothing to do with the temperature crept down her spine. A large cowboy escorted a woman out of the Silver Strike. Eliza’s eyes widened as she wondered if she was seeing what she suspected. Was this actually a soiled dove?

  When the cowpoke threw the woman over his shoulder, peals of laughter filled the air. Eliza backed up and bumped into something.

  “Ma’am? You looking for a little company?”

  Chapter Five

  Eliza stared into the face of a young man who weaved forward, tipping his hat. His coat flapped open and he staggered in front of her, seemingly impervious to the sleet. His exuberant smile and whiskey breath told her the reason he did not feel the cold.

  He grabbed hold of her arm, dragging her from the shadows and onto the public thoroughfare. Good God, he mistook her for a common harlot.

  She tore her arm from his grasp and slapped him across the cheek. Her woo
len glove deadened the blow, which had the same effect as being batted by a kitten that had lost its claws. Still, it seemed to startle him.

  He staggered back, hand raised to his face and eyes as round as twin saucers.

  Light from the hotel now streamed out across their path, and he took a good long look at her.

  “What the dickens you doing out here alone?”

  First he insulted her and now he had the gall to raise his voice. She narrowed her eyes and aimed a finger at him.

  “Does your mother know what you are up to?”

  That sent him back several more steps. He turned and staggered across the street. Eliza lifted her skirts and dashed into the sanctuary of the hotel.

  She reached the lobby, out of breath and puffing like a steam engine.

  “Mrs. Guntherson?” The manager took in her coat and the satchel clasped in her hand. “Is there something wrong with the room?”

  “Ah…” She could think of no reason she might be out walking at night with her bag.

  “I just needed a breath of air.”

  He rounded the desk to come and stand before her, his face now worried.

  “Oh, no, ma’am. Early can be a wild place after dark. Ladies do not venture out alone.”

  So she had just learned. Eliza realized that she was trapped here until the morning. Her heart squeezed and she felt the burning that preceded tears.

  “I can see you have an escort if you need one. And there’s no need to tote your gear. Our rooms are quite safe if you lock up when you leave,” he said.

  When she did not reply, but continued to glance about, he continued on.

  “Of course should you have anything of high value, we do have a hotel safe.”

  Had he assumed she was afraid to leave her belongings unattended and thus had taken them with her? Her shoulders sank with relief that his conjecture had kept her from telling yet another lie. She hated lying, yet it seemed she had done nothing else the entire day.