A Family For The Holidays. Sherri Shackelford

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СКАЧАТЬ his unshorn appearance, his dark wool coat and canvas trousers were clean and well-kept. He certainly didn’t smell like the fur trapper who’d stayed overnight at the boardinghouse. She’d spent two days scrubbing the rank odor from the bedding. This gentleman had a crisp, masculine scent that hinted of leather, wool and something else. She inhaled deeply and caught the pungent snap of gunpowder.

      The realization brought her up short. This wasn’t an ordinary chap.

      “Well, um.” She searched for an innocuous comment. His implacable stance sent a frosty draft through her that had nothing to do with the winter wind. “Your town is quite pleasant.”

      “It’s not my town.”

      His expression was strangely taut, as though he was sizing her up. For a coffin. She quickly squashed the thought. Her imagination was running away with her. After three days of nonstop travel, two by train and one by stage, an aching fatigue gripped her. All of the dime novels and newspaper serials she’d read along with the siblings’ ghoulish yarns had infected her thoughts.

      Peter snuck a peek around her hip and she urged him back once more. The gunfighter raised his eyebrows. His continued silence left her unnerved.

      Peter muttered something. Lily gave his hand a warning squeeze. The boy twisted from her restraint.

      “Are you an outlaw, mister?” he demanded. “Is your face on one of them wanted posters?”

      “Peter!” Lily splayed her arms. The slice of toast she’d managed to choke down that morning lurched in her stomach. “Children have such vivid imaginations.”

      The outlaw squinted. “What’s your business here, miss?”

      “My b-business?”

      What was wrong with her? Her lips weren’t working properly in the cold.

      “Why are you in Frozen Oaks?”

      The horizon wavered, and stars twinkled around the edges of her vision. She swayed on her feet. The gunfighter took her elbow and she recoiled from his touch. Something flickered in his expression. A hint of regret that gave her pause.

      Sam tugged on her sleeve. “You don’t look so good, Miss Lily.”

      “He’s right,” Peter solemnly agreed. “You’re as white as chalk.”

      The gunfighter’s face swam before her, and her ears buzzed.

      “I’m fine,” Lily managed weakly. Her eyelids were leaded and she struggled to keep them open. “Let’s go inside.”

      She urged the children ahead of her and reached for the door. If she could just make it inside the warmth of the restaurant, everything would be all right.

      Her hand collided with the outlaw’s chest instead of the handle.

      He caught her fingers in his warm grasp. Tipping back her head, she studied his face. His eyes reflected concern and a tinge of compassion. In an instant she softened toward him. He didn’t appear frightening at all. He seemed just like any other mortal man. Albeit a taller-than-average mortal man. The hazy afternoon threw his austere features into sharp relief, and an indefinable emotion tugged at her chest.

      The next instant her thoughts scattered. Her heartbeat grew sluggish and each step tugged at her feet as though she was wading in molasses. Why hadn’t she eaten more breakfast that morning?

      “I don’t feel very well.”

      She mustn’t leave the children. As panic chased her into the darkness, the outlaw’s strong arms reached for her.

      “No, no, no,” the outlaw muttered. “Please don’t faint on me, lady.”

      Blackness descended and she dissolved into paralyzing ether.

      That judge had been wrong. Fortune did not favor the foolish.

      * * *

      In an instant the woman’s eyes tipped back and she crumpled. Surging forward, Jake Elder caught her slight frame against his chest. The brim of her stiff bonnet caught on his shoulder and flipped off. The strings snagged around her collar. He adjusted her in his arms and tucked her head into the crook of his neck. The scent of lilacs teased his nostrils.

      The two boys stared up at him with similar wide brown eyes that marked them as brothers. Since they were bundled head to toe in woolens, he had difficulty gauging their ages. Judging by their conflicting expressions, the taller one was old enough to be terrified by the sudden turn of events, and his little brother was young enough to be enthralled.

      Thankful the hostile weather had kept most folks inside, Jake frantically searched the deserted street. He’d rather be rounding up murderous outlaws than this bunch. Killers were predictable. They didn’t faint at the least provocation.

      Was he really that menacing?

      The younger boy blinked. “I’m Peter and this is Sam. What’s wrong with Miss Lily?”

      “Miss Lily fainted.” Her name rolled off Jake’s tongue. The floral moniker suited her. As he adjusted her in his arms, his chin brushed against her silky blond hair. “Sometimes ladies faint.”

      “It’s true.” Sam nodded sagely. “In St. Joseph, our mom had a whole couch just for fainting. She kept it in the parlor.”

      Which was probably a better explanation than anything an adult might concoct.

      “Exactly.”

      “You never answered Peter’s question,” the older boy spoke. “Are you an outlaw?”

      “That depends on what you consider an outlaw.”

      Peter cupped his hand over his brother’s ear and whispered loudly, “I think that means he’s an outlaw.”

      Jake rolled his eyes.

      He’d done his job well. Everyone in town thought he was a gun for hire, and he’d never corrected the assumption. Gazing into the troubled faces of these two young boys, he loathed his deception.

      Except this was not the time to dwell on the subject. “Let’s get Miss Lily out of the cold.”

      The boys were wary, but with no other choice, they reluctantly agreed.

      Avoiding the restaurant entrance, Jake made his way toward the hotel lobby. The fewer people who saw them together the better. The desk clerk rarely left the back room unless she was summoned by the bell.

      Anonymity was key in his profession.

      As a marshal for the United States government, he’d traced a shipment of faulty guns sold to the Cherokee back to Frozen Oaks. He had a hunch, but no proof. The man he suspected, Vic Skaar, never sullied his own hands. Vic hired others, rarely using the same outlaw twice, which made his illegal activities difficult to track. For the past eight weeks Jake had cultivated his reputation as a hired gun.

      Holding an unconscious woman while being trailed by two youngsters was bad for his false reputation.

      He СКАЧАТЬ