Mail-Order Christmas Brides Boxed Set (7 page)

“Oh, it’s not that big,” Eberta laughed kindly, patting the boy on the shoulder. “It’s a nice-size family house. Don’t know what you’re used to, though.”

“A rented shanty on the outskirts of town.” Her shoes tapped on the steps as she trailed Amelia onto the porch. “This will be perfect come summer. I can plant flowers in the border beds and think how pleasant it will be to sit right here and watch the sun set.”

“That’s how I like to pass a summer evening.” The front door opened and Cole stepped into the slant of sunshine, dressed in a dark wool coat, his Stetson hiding his eyes, pulling on a pair of gloves. “Sounds like we are compatible on that front.”

“Yes.” The sight of him made her breath catch. A lump lodged in her throat. Her stomach fluttered nervously, because she didn’t know how this would turn out after he’d heard what she had to say. “Amelia, I’d be most grateful if you could take George inside and show him around the house.”

“Sure. C’mon, George.” Amelia tromped across the porch, tossing a grin at her father on her way by. “Pa and I couldn’t decide what room you’d like, so let’s go pick one out.”

“You mean I get my very own room?” George asked, blue eyes glinting incredulously. “Thank you, Pa.”

“You’re welcome.” He looked right past Mercy, as if he could read her mood. His gaze landed on the boy, and that granite set to his face softened a fraction. “You go on in. Pick out your room. And try on the riding boots I brought home for you. Make sure they fit comfortably.”

“Riding boots?” George froze midstride, jaw dropping. “I looked around, but I didn’t see any horses here.”

“Because they are on the other side of the hill.” Steady and easygoing, that voice. Just like the man. “You’ll be able to see them from the windows. Go on. When you’re done, we’ll take Frosty down to the barn and you can meet the other horses.”

“You mean, you’ll let me
lead
him?”

“I’ll let you drive him.”

The realization sank in. George gave an excited whoop. “Oh, boy. Just oh, boy!”

“You’d better hurry,” Mercy advised him, relieved to see him happy again. “You don’t want to keep Frosty waiting for too long.”

“No, ma’am!” George earnestly charged through the doorway, feet churning, shoes pounding on the boards. The door smacked shut behind him.

“I’ll be getting home,” Eberta called out, circling around the corner of the house on foot. “Good luck, Mercy. I’m praying you don’t need it.”

“Thanks for the ride, for the company, for just everything.” Mercy turned her back to Cole, leaning over the railing. “Will I see you tomorrow?”

“Count on it, missy.” Eberta winked, tossed the tasseled end of her scarf over her plump shoulder and trudged around the corner of the house. A mule bayed, just out of sight. The animal must belong to Eberta, Mercy decided, startled when Cole joined her at the railing.

His dark shadow fell across her and she shivered, although he blocked the wind with his big body. Alone with him again, she was aware of every inch of his six-foot height and of her five foot three. She was unprepared for a confrontation. In the past, discussions had often not gone well with Timothy. How this would turn out was anyone’s guess.

Although her stomach clenched up tight, and her palms began to sweat, she couldn’t put this off. No, best to find out what kind of man Cole truly was. She fisted her hands, braced her feet, mentally preparing herself for the ordeal. “You didn’t come to church.”

“No, I didn’t think to mention that last night.” He shrugged, keeping watch as Eberta rode out of the shadow of the house on a gray mule. “You look as if you mind.”

“I would appreciate you being up front with me.” She watched the mule swish his tail as he walked along, heading back toward town. The sunlight blazed across the landscape, bringing the snow to life, making it shine, making it glitter. Inside she felt dark and afraid. What if by speaking up to protect George she lost him his new father? Her stomach clenched tighter at the thought. “Why don’t you attend? Amelia does.”

“I used to, but I stopped going.” What looked like grief carved lines into his handsome face, crinkling around his eyes, bracketing his chiseled, firm mouth into a reserved frown. “I have no objection to anyone else attending. I just lost the faith for it.”

“Oh.” What on earth did someone say to that? She tried to swallow past the lump in her throat, wishing she knew what to do. “In truth, for the entire year after Timothy passed, I couldn’t force myself to attend a single service. Not even Christmas.”

“But you went back.”

“I needed to. I needed faith. Life isn’t the same without it.” She squinted into the sun. Eberta was a shadow against the endless white. “Maybe one day you’ll go back, too.”

“I tried. I couldn’t.” His throat worked. He turned stonier, all the gentleness fleeing from his face, all the softness, all the feeling. “I tried for years until I finally gave up. It hurt too much to try. I don’t plan on going back. Hope that isn’t a deal breaker for you.”

“What about the wedding?”

“Guess I can’t disappoint Amelia, not about this, not with you.” He shrugged his brawny shoulders. He looked compelling and yet rugged at the same time. Human, but unreachable. “This one time only.”

“I see.” She leaned against the railing, facing him, pulse skittering. “That isn’t a deal breaker for me, but perhaps what I have to say will be one for you.”

“I’m listening.” He went rigid. Tense cords of tendons bunched in his neck. Strained muscles jumped along his jaw line as if he expected the worst.

“I understand, but George didn’t.” Her voice broke, betraying a tremor of emotion she hadn’t meant to express. She sighed. “Today at church, he was the only little boy without a father beside him. Again. I can’t tell you what it has been like watching how painful that is for him, hurting because he is hurting. For years, he’s been the boy watching all those fathers and sons, wishing. Just wishing. It’s been a terrible hole in his life and in his heart. I thought that was over for him, but it wasn’t today.”

“Oh.” Cole closed his eyes. It was as if all six feet of him winced in painful realization. His dependable, wide shoulders slumped. He stared down at the toes of his boots, still as stone. “That wasn’t my intention.”

“I realize that now.” Hands trembling, she splayed them against the wooden rail, needing something to hold on to. Relieved that he wasn’t angry with her, relieved that he was very much the earnest man she’d met through his letters, she took a deep breath of the cold air. It burned in her lungs like an icy rush. “This is, after all, about the children. If there’s something I’m failing to do for Amelia, you should let me know.”

“Right.” He nodded, staring intently down at his boots, refusing to look at her. He looked as remote as the mountains in the distance, as icy as the land mantled in snow. But when he raised his head and his gaze met hers, life shone there. She read his promise in that look, felt the solemnity of it, could see all the way to his heart. She didn’t know why a son was so important to him, why he’d chosen her and George out of all the letters he must have received, but she was appreciative beyond words.

“Guess I’ll figure out a way to face church. I’ll do my best to make sure it doesn’t happen to George again.” Determination showed in the lift on his square, chiseled chin. “If it does, I’m sure you’ll remind me.”

“Yes, I’ll be right on that. I have a sharp eye.” Now she was smiling, amazed how fast that vast distance between them seemed to vanish, how quickly he could change from remote to approachable. Somewhere inside beyond all the defenses, he had a very good heart.

“Mercy!” Amelia’s faint shout penetrated the outside walls of the house and the closed door. “Come see!”

“Now it’s my turn,” she said gently. Without realizing it, she reached out to touch the man. Her fingers landed on his arm, the act as natural as breathing. Aware of what she’d done, her breath hitched. She raised her eyes to his. She read confusion there, but he didn’t move away. She did, removing her fingers from his coat sleeve, her fingertips tingling sweetly from the contact.

She felt the lingering weight of his gaze on her back as she crossed the porch and opened the door. Something had changed between them, something that went beyond words, something she could not describe. But the sun seemed to shine more brightly, the wind held less of a bite, and when she stepped into the house and closed the door behind her, the warm, friendly feeling within her remained.

“Mercy!” Amelia dashed toward her, grinning widely, blue skirts swirling around her, braids flying. “You have to see what Pa got George.”

“Come look, Ma!” George’s voice echoed from deeper inside the house, out of sight. “I can’t believe I’m a real cowboy!”

Oh, the delight in his voice. The sound of it made her forget everything else. Her shoes tapped a merry rhythm against the hardwood floor, barely noticing her surroundings. The big gray stone fireplace, the windows letting in light and mountain views, the two overstuffed chairs in an otherwise sparse room.

A staircase rose to her right, ascending to the second floor. The kitchen was airy and pleasant, but she hardly noticed the oak cabinets and counters, the shiny new range or the round oak table seated in front of a big window. No, those details paled in comparison to the sight of her son standing by that table with a Stetson on his head and cowboy boots on his feet.

“They even fit, too!” George grinned at her, happier than she’d ever seen him. “I can’t believe it. They’re my very own. Amelia said so.”

“Be sure and thank Cole.” She blinked happy tears from her eyes, hands clasped together, just drinking in the sight of her delighted boy. “You look like a real cowboy ready to ride.”

“You surely do,” Amelia agreed. “Hurry, go show Pa. He’s waiting to show you your big surprise.”

“My horse?” George choked out, as if too overcome to say more. He hugged himself like a boy whose every dream had come true. “Oh, boy. I gotta go. ’Bye, Ma.”

“’Bye, kid.” She felt choked up, too. “Go and have fun with your pa.”

“I will!” His boots made a hammering sound, pow-powing through the house as he made a mad dash away.

She listened to his progress, heard the door open and Cole’s rumbling baritone as he said something to the boy. The door shut with a click, cutting him off. She swiped happy tears from her eyes.

“George was really excited.” Amelia wandered over to the stove. “Pa is giving him an old horse to learn to ride. Howie’s big, but don’t worry. He’s as gentle as a lamb. I wanted to learn to ride him. I begged and begged and pleaded and pleaded. I was sure I could wear Pa down and he’d agree.”

“And it didn’t work?” Mercy asked, amused, imagining reserved Cole’s reaction to his daughter wanting to ride astride like a boy. Think how upset he got over a sled! She gave a soft huff of laughter. What a pair she and Amelia were. “Once long ago I wanted to learn to ride horseback.”

“You did?” Surprised at such news, and apparently intrigued, Amelia dropped an oven mitt. It tumbled to the floor and she stooped to pick it up. “Did you ever get to?”

“Alas, no. My parents were shocked I would suggest such a thing.” Mercy laughed again, love filling her at the memory of her folks, long gone now, and of those happy times long past.
Perhaps happier times could come around again,
she thought hopefully, taking in the pretty kitchen. Goodness, it was larger than her shanty. By twice, maybe three times.

“Too bad about the riding,” Amelia sympathized. She opened the stove’s warmer. “Have you ever gone sledding?”

“No. It looks fun.” Mercy crossed over to take a look inside the warmer, from which Amelia extracted a bowl. Residual heat radiated off the stove, and it felt good. It was going to take some time to get used to the cold Montana winters. “Is this lunch?”

“Emmylou made it yesterday. She’s our housekeeper,” Amelia explained, carefully setting the bowl on the counter. “At least, she will be until the wedding. Then you take over.”

“Ah, so in marrying me, your father is saving some money,” she quipped. She liked knowing that she wouldn’t be a burden to him, two more people for him to support. That was another relief. Her gaze drifted to the window, where the stretch of shining white snow and rolling meadows was broken only by precise split-rail fencing and a gray barn, trimmed in white.

A dozen horses strained against the rails, each jockeying to be the one getting petted by George. My, wasn’t that a sight. She bit her bottom lip, overcome once again, watching as Cole stayed at George’s side, appearing to talk gently to him, perhaps telling him about each animal. George listened intently, his little hand petting one horse nose after another, nodding solemnly to whatever the man said.

This was everything she’d hoped. Just everything.

“The palomino in the middle, the tallest horse?” Amelia leaned on the edge of the counter, going up on tiptoe straining to see what had captured Mercy’s attention. “That’s Howie. That’s George’s horse.”

“My, he’s mighty big.” She gulped, trying not to be alarmed. That was one large animal for such a small little boy. Cole knew what he was doing, right? She gripped the edge of the counter, trying to suppress her motherly instincts until the enormous horse lowered his head and George flung his arms as far as they would go around the creature’s neck. The horse, as if he were a very fine gentleman indeed, tucked the boy beneath his head protectively, as if he intended to love and look after the child.

“Emmylou left us chicken to use for sandwiches.” Amelia tapped over to the pantry and flung open the door to reveal tidy shelves stacked full of food staples. “One of my chores is taking care of the chickens. In the summer, we have a big garden. And the orchard is full of trees to climb and fruit to pick.”

“It sounds wonderful.” Like a dream come true. Mercy glanced around, taking in the sight of her happy son and stoic husband-to-be, of her new daughter setting out a plate of covered leftover chicken onto the counter, of this home—a real house—full of sunshine and comfort and safety. She could not believe her good fortune. After working twelve-, sometimes fourteen-hour days at the hotel, day in and day out, scraping together a living, wanting better for her son, it had happened.