Smoke River Bride. Lynna Banning

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      “Miss Cameron, you don’t know how hard ranch life can be.”

      She spun toward him. “I am not afraid of hard work. I fear only being alone and unprotected in a big city where I know no one.”

      “Like San Francisco?” He was fishing, but he had to know something about her. “What scared you in San Francisco that wouldn’t scare you here in Smoke River?”

      She was quiet for a long minute. “It was not safe in that city,” she said softly. “Especially for a Chinese girl. I…I had to get away.”

      Thad frowned. Something didn’t add up. “How come?”

      She twisted away from him so he couldn’t see her face. “When I left the ship, two men laid their hands on me. They wanted me to come with them. I showed them my papers, but they laughed and tore them up.”

      “Good grief,” Thad muttered. “I never thought about…Sit down, Miss Cameron. Have some more tea.”

      She sank back onto the stool at the counter and wrapped her slim fingers around her teacup. “Those men dragged me into a carriage, but I escaped through the other door and ran down an alley and kept running, but they caught me.”

      “Did you get away?”

      “No,” she said shortly. “Nothing happened to me before I got free, but I cannot go back, do you understand? Hard work does not frighten me.” She gave an involuntary shiver. “But bondage does.”

      Thad took a long look at her thin shoulders, her creamy neck and the delicate-looking hands. She appeared small And kind of lost, like a kitten. The least he could do was give her a home. She could teach Teddy. And she could keep house and cook and…

      “Charlie? Look after Miss Cameron for five minutes, will ya?”

      Charlie poked his head out of the ticket window across the room. “Where ya’ goin’?”

      “Up the street to the mercantile. Gotta get her some ranch duds.”

      For the third time, Carl Ness dusted off the display of kerosene lamps, watching out the corner of his eye while Thad MacAllister pawed through boy-size flannel shirts and jeans. Too big for his seven-year-old son, Teddy; too small for any adult he’d ever seen in town.

      “Find what yer lookin’ for, Thad?”

      “Nope,” the tall Scotsman snapped.

      “What are you lookin’ for, anyway?”

      “Work clothes.”

      “You hire somebody to help out at the ranch?”

      Thad paused and gave the diminutive mercantile proprietor a hard look. “Yeah, you might say that.” He held up a blue plaid shirt with buttons down the front, then snagged two more—one red and one green—and piled them on top of the three pairs of dark denim jeans he’d laid over his forearm.

      “Kinda small for a ranch hand,” Carl observed. He patted the pile of garments Thad laid on the counter.

      “Yup.”

      Carl just shook his head. “You know, gettin’ more than three words out of you since your wife…Well, you know. It’s like squeezing a hen’s egg. You press too hard and you end up with egg yolk all over your hand.”

      “Yeah.”

      Carl started to wrap up the shirts in brown paper. “Anything else, Thad?”

      “Yeah. Bottle of brandy. Make it a big bottle.” Thad dropped some coins on the counter and gathered up his paper-wrapped parcels. He could hardly wait to see Miss Cameron’s reaction to his purchases. Maybe the sight of the rough work clothes would convince her ranch life could be a killer. It had killed Hattie, his wife. It could kill a delicate woman all too easily.

      Leah sat huddled over her tea, watching the stationmaster behind the ticket cage. He could sell her a train ticket to…well, to anywhere. But where could she go? Not back to the city. Not to Portland, either, which was just another big city where she would know no one. One small town was probably as good as another, and here there was a man who noticed her heritage but acted as if he did not care much.

      “Mr. Charlie?” she called across the room.

      “Yes, miss? What can I do for you?”

      “Is…” She could scarcely get the words out. “Is Mr. MacAllister a good man?”

      “He’s the best kind there is, miss. Leastways he used to be.”

      “What happened to him?”

      “Lost his wife a year ago in a train wreck. Ain’t been the same since.”

      “Is he…cruel or violent?”

      The stationmaster laughed. “Thad? Nah. He’s gone kinda crazy over this wheat-growing idea, and once he gets his mind made up, he’s hard to move. Sure, he gets hot under the collar sometimes, but I’ve never seen him do anything mean.”

      Leah turned back to her tea. Everything would work out. It had to work out; she had no place else to go.

      The front door banged open and there stood Mr. MacAllister, snow frosting the shoulders of his jacket and dusting the wide brim of his gray hat.

      “Come on, Miss Cameron. Time to take you home.”

       Chapter Two

      Mr. MacAllister snagged Leah’s gray wool coat off the stand and held it out to her. “Ready to head to my ranch, Miss Cameron?”

      Leah stared at the tall, muscular man. She had not thought this would be so hard to do. To be honest, she had not thought at all; she was so grateful for a way to escape Madam Tang in San Francisco, she had seized the money Mr. MacAllister had sent and boarded the first train north. Now, facing the prospect of actually living with this man, becoming his wife, she was frightened.

      “Are we not to be married first?” she asked.

      “Uh, sure.” But now that he was facing it he had to admit he wasn’t over Hattie yet. Yeah, he needed someone to keep house and mind Teddy, but maybe he wasn’t ready for another marriage.

      Still, she needed someplace safe, and she was educated. She probably knew some about the history of the world, and about books. Most of the Smoke River folks hadn’t been schooled past sixth grade, and he wanted Teddy to know about literature, about poetry. Maybe even Scottish writers, like Robbie Burns and Sir Walter Scott.

      Well, hell, nothing came for free. If he wanted all these things for Teddy, he should be prepared to pay the price. And the price was marriage.

      “Gettin’ colder outside, Miss Cameron. Might make better sense to go on home where it’s warm and discuss this further.” He stood with the wool coat draped over one arm, looking at her expectantly.

      “No.” She said it quietly, but she meant it. It would not be best at all. СКАЧАТЬ