Wild West Christmas. Lynna Banning

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      “I see.” Alice’s gray-green eyes shimmered, and her face looked long and drawn. She rose. Dillen followed her to her feet and retrieved his hat. Alice turned to the boys. “Your uncle and I need a private word. Please stay at the table. Cody, you are in charge.”

      “Yes, ma’am.”

      Alice walked to the opposite side of the room, standing before the tall window, each pane frosted from the cold. The afternoon light showed the creamy perfection of her skin. Two pink patches glowed on her cheeks, and Dillen knew that Miss Truett was struggling with her emotions. Dillen felt like a dog as he slunk up before her.

      “Mr. Roach, those two boys need you. You are their closest living relative and the only one they have ever met. Mr. Asher’s parents predeceased him and they had no other children. Then you send me a telegram to bring these boys immediately and so I have. Now you tell me this is all some dreadful mistake. I need to know, Mr. Roach, what your intentions are toward your nephews’ care.”

      “I want to take them. It’s just...” He couldn’t bring himself to tell her the truth—that he was a saddle stiff, a carnival hand, a no-account.

      “When you conclude your purchase of horses, will you be able to take charge of them?”

      He stared at her in mute indecision. He wanted them, but he also wanted what was best for them. He wasn’t it.

      “Mr. Roach, do you not want them?”

      “I want them. Of course I do.”

      “Is it a matter of time, then? Do you wish me to stay for a few days to allow you to make necessary preparations?”

      All the time in this wide world would not be enough for Dillen to provide a home for two youngsters. But Dillen looked down into her large, trusting eyes and saw that Alice really believed he could do it. Her sincerity and confidence took away some of the panic and he reined in his racing heart. Next thing he knew he was nodding yes. A little more time. Time for his brother-in-law’s great-aunt to reply. Time to find someone who could raise his sister’s children, time to disappoint Alice Pinter Truett once more.

      “Very well. I’ll take a room here and see to the boys. How long will you require for your business?”

      “Be back by tomorrow.”

      “We shall expect to see you then.” Alice extended her slender hand, bare now that she was at her meal. Dillen clasped hold. Her skin was smooth and satiny. He used his thumb to stroke the soft skin on the back of her hand. Alice gasped and her green eyes went wide. But she did not pull away. Instead she lifted her free hand and stroked his face, allowing the pads of her fingers to caress the apple of his cheek before traveling over the coarse hairs of his close-cropped beard. Now it was Dillen’s turn to go still as her hand came to rest on his chest, her fingers splayed as if to still his thumping heart.

      “Come back soon,” she whispered, and then withdrew, her hands retreating, her expression changing from wide-eyed need to the deferential demeanor of a proper lady. But for an instant he’d glimpsed her again, the woman he had fallen in love with. The one he had kissed. The passionate, free spirit she had become when she was with him.

      Which woman was she?

      Dillen watched her walk away. There was no sultry sway of her hips, just the clipped, sedate walk of a woman of means and character. A woman so far above him that he feared he’d just imagined that spark that flew between them like a hot ember jumping from one blazing roof to the next.

      But his skin still tingled from her touch and his body shouted for him to advance. Instead he tucked his hat down tight and retreated as fast as his long legs could carry him.

      Come back soon, she’d said. Lord, help me, because she could do so much better than my sorry hide.

      As he reached the train station, he knew he couldn’t stay away from her. She was too sweet and he was too hungry. This would end badly for them both. Why the devil had she come here?

Chapter Four

      Alice did not see Dillen the following day, nor the day after that.

      While she waited for him to conclude his business, she wired her family of her safe arrival, penned her elder brother, Arthur, a letter and did some Christmas shopping for his daughters Harriet, age seven, and Lizzy, age nine. She had already finished her shopping for her younger brother, Edward’s, children, though her nieces would hardly notice the gifts since Amelia was only two and Lidia just seven months come December. Alice had always spent Christmas Eve at her grandfather’s home, a very elegant affair, the house open for all the right sort of people. Alice never enjoyed this part of the holidays. But afterward they would return to her parents’ more modest home and she would exchange gifts with both her brothers and their growing families. Christmas morning was spent attending church with her parents—though she wished she could be at her brother’s home in the morning when the girls woke and found what Santa had brought them, but understood that this was a private family time. Knowing so only made her long for a family of her own, for children with whom she could share the joy and innocence of those mornings.

      She knew that Colin and Cody believed in Santa with their whole hearts. She managed to distract them with the help of the clerk so she had time to make several purchases for their stockings. The boys left the shop unknowingly carrying their own gifts, which made her smile. They were such good boys. Sylvia would be so proud. She sighed wistfully as Colin and Cody skipped along beside her on the snow-covered road. She needed to get these two to their uncle soon, for she feared that if she waited much longer she might not be able to give them up.

      Alice returned to the hotel to inquire at the front desk if there were a message from Mr. Roach. Finding none, she went directly to the telegraph office to inquire there.

      “No, ma’am” came the reply from the operator. “Did see him come through town yesterday, though. Had those two ponies. Fine looking pair. Oh, and no word yet from Chicago,” he said, smiling and nodding at Colin and Cody who peered up at him as he rested an elbow on the counter. “Going to visit your auntie, are you?” he asked.

      Alice felt the tingle of cold as if ice crystals formed beneath her skin. She drew one boy to each side and swallowed back her dread.

      Alice lowered her chin. “Pardon?”

      “Mr. Roach wrote their great-aunt.” His grin dissolved. Perhaps he now recognized from her seething expression or the boys’ wide-eyed stares that they had not been privy to this information.

      Ben Asher’s aunt had died some years back of a stroke. Alice did recall that Ben had two uncles, also deceased. Another possibility struck.

      “He said Chicago?”

      The telegraph operator drew back from the counter, hesitating now.

      Alice patted Colin’s back as he clung to her skirts. “Would the name of this relative be McCrery, Ella McCrery?”

      “I—I’m not...”

      She gave him a scowl, fearing she might need to shout and she hated to shout. She took a step toward the counter, hampered by the clinging children.

      He swallowed and then nodded. “Believe that’s right, though he СКАЧАТЬ