A Montana Christmas. Kristine Rolofson

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      “He told me it would be okay, that no one would mind.”

      “No one will,” he said, silently cursing his brother for not warning them. Melanie stood, managing to sling a purse and an oversize quilted bag over her shoulder at the same time. The baby never made a sound, though Jared caught a glimpse of its eyes as they popped open to stare up at Melanie.

      “The car seat is mine, too,” she said, so Jared picked it up. It wasn’t Will’s child, of course, he assured himself as he motioned the woman toward the exit. There was no way his brother could have kept such a secret from the family for such a long time. Besides, if the child was Will’s, she would have had the Stone name and live at Graystone ranch by now.

      “The suitcase rolls,” Melanie said. “You can pull out the handle and—”

      “This is faster,” Jared countered, holding the black case by its handle, along with the plastic seat contraption. The crowd had thinned now, and there was no sign of the Bailey sisters. “Go on toward the door. I’m right behind you.”

      He stayed close enough to touch that dark hair with his fingers, not that he did so. This one was special, Will had said. This woman was Will’s and was, therefore, to be protected at all costs. Even if she was a stranger who carried an infant.

      Their mother was going to be beside herself with joy. She’d longed for grandchildren for years, since her sons had been old enough to get married and bring brides to the ranch. There had been no brides, not until now. The Stone sons showed little inclination to settle down.

      Melanie paused at the door and rearranged the blankets around the baby’s face while Jared reached out and pushed the door open for her. The cold wind hit them with cruel force, and Melanie hunched over the child and didn’t seem to notice that Jared’s arm lay across her shoulder to guide her to the parking lot. When they rounded the corner of the building, the wind eased and he dropped his hand from her back.

      “So this is Havre,” she said, looking across the railroad yard to a restaurant famous for serving food quickly to train passengers who would continue west after a short stop in northern Montana. She pronounced the word “Hay-ver.”

      “Have-er,” Jared said, raising his voice to be heard above the wind. They waited for a line of cars to pass before they could cross the street. “It was supposed to be named for a French town, but local legend has a different version.”

      She looked at him and prompted, “Which is?”

      “Two fur trappers were fighting over a woman, and one of them decided he wasn’t going to get killed deciding who won, so he said, ‘You can have-er.”

      “Have her,” she repeated, and the briefest of smiles flashed across her face. “You’re not teasing? This is a true story?”

      “I don’t know about true, but it’s on a sign here at the train station,” he declared. “You want to see it?”

      She shivered. “Not today.”

      “Then come on,” Jared said, urging her across the street by touching her back once again. She felt small and delicate, as if the north wind would pick her up and blow her to Wyoming if she wasn’t weighted down by a blanket-wrapped child. What was Will thinking by inviting this woman and her baby to Graystone? His brother would have a lot of questions to answer.

      ANYONE WOULD KNOW THEY were brothers without having to ask, Melanie decided. Will and his older brother shared the same broad shoulders and dark hair, identical stubborn chins and skin color. Will’s eyes were brown, not Jared’s unusual shade of dark green. His face was narrower, his expression more relaxed, but their hair waved in similar patterns across their foreheads and both brothers walked as if they knew exactly where they were going, all of the time.

      She would have enjoyed the walk to Jared Stone’s truck if she hadn’t been worried about Beth feeling the fierce wind that pushed at them from behind. Melanie didn’t mind the wind that much. Fresh air had been in short supply on the train. She noticed that Will’s brother adjusted his long strides so she could keep up with him, even though she was already walking as fast as she could without breaking into a jog.

      He settled her and Beth into the passenger seat of an oversize truck, then went around to the driver’s side and proceeded to figure out how to install the baby’s car seat into the back section of the truck. “It’s a long ride” was all the man said. “Do you want to put, ah, her in the seat before we get started?”

      “Yes. Thanks.”

      He was around to her side of the truck almost instantly and helped her get down. She felt awkward and old and close to tears by the time she settled Beth into the seat, the straps adjusted over her tiny body. Luckily her daughter liked to ride and would sleep for a while. A long while, Melanie hoped. Jared Stone hadn’t been expecting a baby and wasn’t prepared for Beth’s fussing.

      “All set?” His voice was a low rumble behind her, reminding Melanie that she needed to climb back into the truck once again. She needed to stop fretting, too.

      “Yes,” she assured him. Things will work out, Will had promised Saturday afternoon when he helped her onto the train. Quit worrying. “Everything’s fine.”

      “I guess you’ve never been to Montana before?” His question was polite, but his attention was on starting the truck and checking the rearview mirror before he backed out of the parking space.

      “No. Will warned me that it would be cold.” And private, too. She rubbed the condensation from the side window and saw some of Havre before Jared drove the truck onto a main road. And then there wasn’t much to see except snow-coated grasslands and an occasional house. She unfastened her seat belt so she could check to see that Beth was breathing. Sure enough, the baby slept without a care in the world, her cheeks pink and her little lips pursed as if she dreamt of being fed.

      “What else did he tell you?”

      “He said your mother likes Christmas.” He said that I would be able to hide. And heal. And pretend that the huge black hole that was now my life would be invisible.

      He chuckled. “Likes Christmas? That’s an understatement. Our mother is Santa Claus, Martha Stewart and Bing Crosby rolled into one.”

      “Why Bing Crosby?”

      “She sings along to his Christmas CDs while she cooks. Right now she’s decorating the guest room for you.”

      “I hope she’s not going to any trouble.” She had made Will promise that her visit wouldn’t inconvenience his family.

      “Don’t worry. She’s been having a great time since we got a satellite dish. Mom discovered the decorating and design channels and has been fixing up the house ever since.”

      She heard laughter in his voice, and affection. “I’m sorry Will didn’t tell any of you that I was bringing a baby. I just assumed he’d said something before he invited us.”

      “My mother is used to surprises from Will.” He turned on the defroster, then stepped on the gas pedal to pass a large van. Melanie looked out the window and rested her head against the back of the seat. It would be so easy to close her eyes and be lulled to sleep. In an attempt to be polite, she tried to stay awake. The oncoming cars had their headlights on now that the sky had grown darker. She looked at her watch. СКАЧАТЬ