A Montana Christmas. Kristine Rolofson

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      “Massachusetts, originally. And then I lived in D.C.”

      He waited for her to add something about her family or her reasons for living in Washington, but she took another sip of her coffee and then lifted the edge of the blanket to check on her daughter’s progress.

      “Why’d you take the train?” he couldn’t help asking.

      “I’m afraid to fly.”

      There was more to it, he was sure. Where’s the child’s father was something else he’d like to know. And why the SOB would let his family spend two and a half days on a train to spend the holidays with strangers.

      She looked toward the counter as two more men, their hats and coats dusted with snow, entered the restaurant and wiped their boots on the rubber mat near the door. “It’s snowing harder now. Will we be all right?”

      “It might take us longer to get home, but it would take a lot more snow than this to cause trouble.” Jared glanced at the window, but a row of checked curtains hid his view of the parking lot. “This is typical Montana weather, nothing to worry about.”

      She smiled, a flash of sweetness that threatened his breathing. “Will talked about you a lot. He said, ‘Nothing ever bothers my older brother.”’

      Well, Will hadn’t seen him drink coffee with a breast-feeding woman.

      “WE’RE HERE,” A GRUFF MALE voice announced. Melanie didn’t want to open her eyes. She didn’t want to move, either. Not that she could remember where she was, exactly, but this place was warm and quiet, and sleep was such a rare pleasure she couldn’t bear for it to end.

      “Melanie,” the voice repeated. “We’re at the ranch.”

      The ranch. It took several seconds for those words to make sense, but Melanie blinked and opened her eyes as cold air brushed across her face. The tall rancher shut his door with a quiet click, but the overhead light stayed on. Melanie sat up and unbuckled her seat belt. Her neck was stiff, but she’d been in such a deep sleep she didn’t mind. She climbed into the back seat as Jared opened the passenger door.

      “Be careful getting out. It’s snowing pretty hard and it’s slippery,” he said, but he didn’t look the least bit cold as he stood there in the dark. There were snowflakes coating his hair and the shoulders of his bulky jacket. Every inch the western hero, there was something about Jared that radiated strength and calm, a man sure of himself and what mattered in his life. His brother had that same confidence, but with easier manners and a knack for conversation.

      She realized she was staring and turned her attention back to unhitching the straps of the car seat and gathering the blankets around her sleeping child. Her arms were so tired that they trembled as she lifted the baby.

      “Give her to me,” he said. “It’s safer that way.”

      “All right.” She covered Beth’s face with the corner of the blanket. Behind Jared light glowed, and when he moved the bucket seat forward to take the baby, Melanie saw a large porch and the bright windows of a very big house. She followed him, though not as quickly as she would have liked. The wind blew the breath back into her mouth when she stepped onto the ground, forcing her to lower her head and hurry after Jared as best she could. She slammed the truck’s door and hurried through the snow toward a porch so long it appeared to stretch across the entire length of the house and then some. A door opened and she heard a woman’s voice call out, but Melanie concentrated on negotiating the three wide steps to the porch before she looked up.

      “Oh, thank goodness you’re home,” a lovely silver-haired woman she assumed was Jared’s mother said. “I was so—Jared, is that a baby?”

      “Yeah. Here.” Jared handed Beth to the woman and then his gloved hand tugged Melanie to the opened door and hauled her inside an enormous brown-and-white kitchen that smelled of freshly baked bread and roasting beef. When she would have stopped to wipe her feet on a mat that read Howdy, Stranger, Jared urged her forward so he could shut the door. He then helped her remove her coat and then, shrugging off his own, hung them both on nearby hooks on a wood-paneled wall.

      Jared’s mother, Beth snug in her arms, uncovered the baby’s face before lifting her green-eyed gaze to her guest. “And you must be Melanie. I’m Jenna Stone, which I’m sure you’ve guessed already.”

      “Yes,” she began, surprised that Will’s mother looked so young. Her silver hair was caught up at her neck with a barrette; she wore black jeans and an oversize black velvet blouse. Her small wrists were encased in silver bracelets, and beaded silver hoops dangled from her ears. “Thank you for inviting me—us. I’m sorry that Will didn’t tell you ahead of time that I was bringing my daughter with me.”

      “Please don’t feel that way,” the woman said, her voice soft. “We’re so glad to meet you. Both of you. It’s been a long time since we’ve had a baby in the house.” She gazed down at Beth and then back to Melanie. She looked as if she’d been given the best Christmas gift of her life. “Does this mean I’m finally a grandmother?”

      “I wouldn’t know,” was all she could think to say. Jenna looked so disappointed that Melanie almost felt as if she should apologize again. “Will and I—”

      “There you are!” An elderly white-haired gentleman, a wide grin splitting his tanned face into a thousand wrinkles, burst into the room. He clapped Jared on the back, peered at Beth over Jenna’s shoulder, and then eyed Melanie with an expression she could only interpret as sympathetic. “You must be Will’s friend from Washington. Glad to meet you.”

      She took the hand he offered. “And you must be Uncle Joe.”

      He nodded, releasing her fingers after giving them a gentle squeeze of approval. “That’s right, darlin’. Tell me something, do you play bridge?”

      Before Melanie could answer, Jenna spoke. “Let the kids sit down and eat. You can arrange your card games over supper.”

      Melanie saw Jared peer into another room. “Where’s Aunt Bitty?”

      “Having a nap, I guess,” Joe declared. “With that idiotic dog of hers.”

      “We’d better wake her up and tell her you’re here or she’ll have a fit,” Jenna said.

      “She can’t hear a damn thing with those headphones on,” the older man grumbled.

      Jenna handed the baby to Melanie. “What’s her name?”

      “Beth.”

      “Well, bring Beth over here to the couch and get her settled. I know I have a cradle up in the attic Jared can get after supper, but for now we’ll make do with pillows, all right?” She led Melanie past a round pedestal table set for supper to the other end of the room, where an overstuffed couch sat against a wall. A fuzzy brown afghan was spread over its back and blue towels covered the cushions. “I keep this old thing here so the men don’t have to change their clothes in the middle of a workday when they want to sit down for a bit,” she explained. “I saw a show on television explaining how to make slipcovers but I haven’t tried it myself. What do you think for fabric, blue brushed corduroy or tan? I bought both because I couldn’t make up my mind.”

      “Either one would work,” she said, visualizing the old couch covered СКАЧАТЬ