A Family for the Holidays (2 page)

Despite 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 carried Lily across the foyer and into a small parlor. As he rested her on a mustard-colored damask settee, her eyelids fluttered.

The two boys hovered over her, and a band of guilt tightened around his chest. Admitting his true identity risked all their lives, which meant there was little he could say to put them at ease. In order to be a good guy, he had to play a bad guy.

“Is Miss Lily your sister?” Jake asked the older boy.

“She's our chaperone. Miss Lily Winter.”

“I see.”

He should have realized immediately she wasn't related. She was too young to be their mother and her coloring was far lighter than the brothers' dark hair and eyes.

“She traveled with us from St. Joseph,” Peter said. “To keep us safe.”

They should have sent a fourth person along to keep Lily safe. Jake brushed a wisp of blond hair from her pale forehead. The wool collar of her coat had bunched beneath her chin and he released the top button. The thread was darker, indicating a recent mending. The new porcelain button with its painted yellow daisy was a dash of color and extravagance that didn't match her drab wool coat.

Much like the whimsical fastening, Lily didn't belong among these plain surroundings either.

To begin with, she was tiny. The older boy, Sam, nearly topped her. Her clothing was simple and purposeful, which might have dulled another woman. On Lily, the unadorned style perfectly showcased her elegant features. Her heart-shaped face held enormous blue eyes and a mouth in the shape of a bow. Her flaxen hair was shot through with lighter and darker strands, creating a cascade of molten color. In a town where the men outnumbered the women five to one, Lily stood out like the first flower of spring.

His gut twisted. Lilies tended to get trampled underfoot around here.

Peter sniffled, yanking Jake back to his current dilemma.

Jake placed a comforting hand on the child's shoulder. “Has Miss Lily been ill?”

Surely he hadn't felled her with his threatening stance alone.

“Maybe. I don't know.” The boy shrugged. “We've been traveling for days and days. I don't think she slept very well last night. She read my book and lost my page.” A guilty flush spread across the boy's cheeks. “Not that I minded or anything. She's actually really nice and she let me buy a penny candy at all the train stops.” He snapped his fingers. “I think trains and stagecoaches make her sick. She holds her stomach and turns green. But when we're not moving, she's fine. This morning she gave most of her breakfast to Sam and she only ate the toast. But that might have been because Sam is always hungry.”

Sam chucked his brother on the shoulder. “She told me I could have it.”

The telling sacrifice brought back memories of his own mother, and Jake fought against the tide of the past. In a blink the years slipped away. He'd been little older than Sam when she'd been murdered by outlaws. In what began as an uneventful day, she'd dragged him along on her errands, and her last stop had been the bank. Bored, he'd leaned against the counter and passed the time spinning a penny on its narrow edge. His mother had promised a visit to the general store when they finished.

In a flash there'd been gunshots and shouting. His mother had shoved him behind her, but she hadn't dropped to the ground like the other bank patrons. Her hesitation had cost her her life. The rest of that day was a blur. In an instant his future had been rewritten.

From that moment on, his path had been set. When outlaws roamed free, innocent bystanders were hurt. He couldn't bring his mother back, but he could prevent other tragedies.

“It's not your fault, Sam,” Jake said. “I had a brother who took sick every time he traveled by train.”

Lily groaned and he reached for her hand. Her pulse kicked robustly beneath his fingertips.

“She'll feel better after she rests and has a good meal.”

Judging by the brothers' explanations, Lily was cold, tired and hungry. Not to mention she'd encountered a gun-toting outlaw in her path. No wonder she'd fainted. Jake sat back on his heels and rested his hand on his gun belt.

Some days the deception weighed on him heavier than others. “What brings you three to Frozen Oaks?”

Sam and Peter exchanged a glance.

“Our grandpa Emil,” Sam said.

“Emil Tyler?”

“Yep. Our parents died in Africa. We've come to live with our grandpa.”

Jake's misgivings increased tenfold. Emil was an irascible old man who ran a barbershop out of the front of his store, and a high-stakes poker game out of the back. A rumor had been floating around Frozen Oaks that Vic Skaar had recently lost deep to Emil. If Vic had lost money, there was one surefire way to erase his debt that didn't bode well for the boys. While Jake didn't peg Vic as a murderer, he wasn't above hiring someone else.

“Yeah,” Peter said. “Except Grandpa didn't meet us at the livery like he was supposed to.”

A sharp sense of unease pricked Jake. Emil was missing and Miss Winter was fluttering about like a helpless dove in a nest of grackles. “How far have you traveled?”

“From St. Joseph. Two days by train. The trip was only supposed to take one day, but there was a problem with the engine. Maybe that's why Grandpa Emil isn't here.”

“Maybe,” Jake said.

He had a bad feeling Emil had been detained by something far more ominous than a change in the train schedule.

Chapter Two

J
ake carefully considered his options. He hadn't paid much heed to Emil's recent desertion from Frozen Oaks. Given the current circumstances, the time had come to rectify his oversight.

As he calculated his odds of escaping the room unseen, Lily stirred. Her eyes drifted open. Her forehead creased and she glanced around the room. Her gaze landed on his face and he noted the exact moment when she recognized him.

She surged upright and reached for Sam and Peter. “What happened?”

“You fainted,” Peter said. “Like this.”

He rolled his eyes toward the ceiling, let his jaw go slack and flapped his arms weakly.

“All right, that's enough.” A wash of color suffused her pale cheeks. Lily grasped Sam's and Peter's face in turn, then patted them up and down. “Are you both okay?”

Jake backed toward the door. “You shouldn't stand up just yet.”

Her wary gaze swept over him. “Thank you for assisting me. I've never fainted before. I don't know what came over me. You mustn't put yourself out any longer on my account.”

As her words tumbled over each other, she discretely reached for her reticule and squeezed the bag. No doubt checking to see if he'd pickpocketed her traveling money.

Jake pinched the bridge of his nose and silently willed his forbearance. In that moment he missed being a plain old US marshal. He missed the time when ladies had looked upon him with admiration instead of wariness and distrust.

He shook the unexpected thought from his head. What did he need of ladies' attention? He'd long ago forsworn having his own family. The world was too dangerous for raising children. Especially out West. He did this job for a greater good than his own. In the beginning he'd felt the occasional twinges of loneliness. Given time, the hollow ache in his chest had eased. He was the rare man who accepted his fate. Some payments went beyond money.

Lily touched a hand to her forehead. “Perhaps you're right. I need a few more minutes. The room is spinning a bit.”

“Try taking some deep breaths.” His fingers itched to ease the lock of hair from her forehead once more. The feel of the silky texture lingered on his memory. “That should help.”

He retrieved his gloves and yanked the leather over his hands. This job was his life. He'd come to accept his craving for danger as a flaw in his character that wouldn't be fixed. His desire for the chase was an almost physical pain if not satisfied. The lure of risk and the thrill of capture were as necessary to him as the blood running in his veins. He was a man unfettered by obligations, and happy for it.

“Leave town,” he ordered. Lily was suspicious of him, and he'd exploit her fear to his advantage, even if it pained him. “There's nothing for you in Frozen Oaks, Miss Winter.”

She gaped at his sudden announcement. “I beg your pardon.”

“You heard me.”

Sam's eyes widened in betrayal at the harsh tone, and Jake glanced away. He was proud of the work he'd done over the years. He was proud of his career. Though he knew what he was doing was necessary, he wasn't experiencing that same pride this instant. Terrifying women and children went against his nature.

He reached into his pocket and closed his fingers around the penny he'd been carrying all these years. Why carry the past around in his pocket?

He extended his hand toward Peter. “This is for the next time you're near the penny candy.”

“Thanks.” Peter grinned, instantly mollified.

He ruffled the boy's hair. “Share with your brother.”

Catching Lily's gaze, he set his jaw. “Once you've had a decent rest and a good meal, you'd best leave this town, Miss Winter.”

His villainous skills were rusty. He sounded as though he was asking her to tea instead of giving her a piece of advice that may very well save her life. Though he knew what he was doing was for the best, he was trapped, in that moment, into playing the villain.

Her iridescent blue eyes grew puzzled. “Why must we leave?”

“Emil has gotten tangled in some trouble. You'd best keep the youngsters away from that.”

“What kind of trouble?” Lily searched the room as though Emil might spring out from behind the settee at any moment. “Why should I believe you? I don't even know your name.”

“Jake.” He replaced his hat. “Frozen Oaks might be a ridiculous name for a town, but it's still a dangerous place. Don't trust anyone, Miss Winter.”

“Even you?”

“Especially me.”

She gave him a side-eyed glance that had him squirming like a schoolboy brought to the carpet. He glanced away from the curiosity in her shrewd gaze. After years on the job he'd become adept at reading character, and Lily struck him as a woman of unshakable integrity. While he admired the wholesome honesty in her striking blue eyes, this was no place for a tenderfoot.

“Why warn me away if I can't trust you?” She tucked the rebellious strand of hair behind a delicate, perfectly shaped ear. “Isn't that a bit contradictory?”

The teasing warmth in her smile whittled away at his resolve. He had to warn her away because if he was worried about her safety, he couldn't concentrate on his job. Because if he didn't stop Vic from selling those guns, more men would die on either side of the Cherokee war. Because simply being near her was a dangerous distraction.

Instead he said, “If you stay in this town, you're in danger. You were hired to keep those children safe. If something were to happen to them, could you live with yourself?”

She blinked rapidly. “No.”

“Then trust your gut, Lily Winter.”

“Trust my gut, but not you.”

He let out a gusty sigh. She had the kind of pure innocence about her that made a man think about a different way of life.

His breath hitched. The unexpected thought shook him to the core, and he forced the weakness aside. In order to do his job, he'd erected an icy wall around his emotion. Strong feelings were a distraction. He was a man who gave one hundred percent to the job, and there wasn't anything left over for anyone else. That sort of man was no good for raising a family.

He wouldn't be ensnared by the way her pale eyelashes fluttered against her soft cheeks.

“I'm not the man for you, Miss Winter. Never forget that.”

* * *

“Surely there's someone in Frozen Oaks who can be trusted,” Lily demanded. “I doubt the entire town is inhabited by thieves and brigands.”

Nothing had gone as planned, and she was unexpectedly frustrated by the gunfighter's insistence on frightening her. While she appreciated his profession required a good bit of intimidation for success, she wasn't in the mood for subtle threats.

She'd created a neat and orderly world for herself. She followed a strict schedule. She never walked alone after dark. She never spent more money than she earned. This unexpected plunge into intrigue had set her on edge.

A humorless smile stretched across the gunfighter's face, and he adjusted his hat over his forehead. “Be cautious with your challenges, Miss Winter. You never know who might pick up the gauntlet.”

“I didn't realize I was challenging you.”

“A beautiful woman is always a challenge.”

She flushed beneath his appraising glance. “You've been away from civilization for too long, Mr. Jake. The description is too generous.”

“Look in the mirror, Miss Winter. And don't forget to watch your back.”

The next instant he was gone. Lily gaped at the space he'd recently vacated.

“What's a gauntlet?” Peter asked.

“A glove,” Lily said. “Throughout history, challenges have been issued by throwing down a glove. The challenge is accepted when the other person retrieves the glove.”

She pressed two fingers against her temple and shook her head. Without the distraction of the gunfighter, she took stock of her surroundings. The last thing she recalled, she'd been standing outside. Her unlikely rescuer had carried her into the hotel and an overdone parlor of some sort.

Every window, wall and chair had been dressed in varying autumnal shades of damask fabric, flocked wallpaper and dangling fringed tassels. Clearly the decorator was enamored with the extravagant theme. A little too enamored. The jumble of patterns was giving her a headache.

At least her charges didn't seem any worse for wear. Peter gazed adoringly at the precious coin clutched in his palm.

Massaging her forehead, Lily vaguely recalled the gentle brush of the man's fingers. Had she imagined the encounter? That couldn't be right. Nothing about Jake had struck her as comforting, and yet that was exactly how she felt—comforted. The man had an oddly enthralling effect on her.

She straightened her spine and crossed her ankles. That sort of thinking wouldn't do at all. From what she'd heard from scores of women passing through the boardinghouse, men were rarely the sensible choice. Men who carried guns in towns that outlawed weapons were the least sensible of all.

At least her head had cleared and she no longer felt as light-headed. The tantalizing aroma of roasted beef drifted from the restaurant, and her stomach rumbled.

Sam perched next to her on the settee. “I like him. He's nice.”

Apprehension rippled through Lily. “How long was I unconscious?”

Her instincts warred with her common sense. Jake was clearly a gunfighter. He'd come close to threatening her into leaving. Perhaps
threatening
was too strong of a sentiment, but he'd been very stern in his warning.

“You weren't passed out for long.” Peter splayed his hands. “A few minutes.”

She'd always trusted the instincts of children. She wasn't so certain anymore. Although she couldn't blame Peter entirely. She retained the same conflicted feelings about the man. The heat of the parlor slicked her skin with sweat and she removed her coat. Conflicted or not, she wasn't lingering over the odd encounter. She couldn't imagine the circumstances where they'd cross paths. They'd likely never see each other again.

She resolutely ignored her minuscule prick of disappointment.

Open double doors led to a larger, wood-paneled lobby. Voices sounded and Lily craned her neck to hear.

“Don't put yourself out, Miss Regina,” the first voice spoke.

“I'll handle this,” a second female voice said. “If there's a strange woman in the hotel, Vic will want a full accounting.”

Lily stood too quickly and her legs wobbled. Her head spun and she braced one hand on the settee until the moment passed.

“It's a hotel,” the first voice muttered. “They're all strangers here.”

A pretty dark-haired woman with striking blue eyes, who was not much older than Lily, appeared in the doorway. Her extravagant burgundy day dress with its layers of satin ruffles marked her as the most likely suspect for decorator of the parlor.

“This room is for paying guests only,” the woman declared, twitching an olive-colored damask drapery into place. “If you're not paying, you'll have to go.”

Something about the woman was familiar, and Lily studied her closer. “Do I know you?”

“The name is Regina Dawson. I don't believe we've met before.” The woman squinted. “Wait a second. What's your name?”

“Lily Winter.”

Regina fiddled with the perfectly tied wine-colored bow beneath her chin. “I know that name. Are you from Chicago?”

“St. Joseph.”

“I rented a room at a boardinghouse in St. Joseph two years ago.” A deep crease appeared beneath the netting covering the woman's forehead. “The nasty old biddy who ran the place was always spying on my comings and goings.”

“That would be Mrs. Hollingsworth.”

Dawning recognition spread across Regina's face, highlighting her rouged cheeks. “Weren't you the maid or something?”

“Not the maid, exactly,” Lily mumbled.

Though her memory of Regina was vague, the unexpected sight of someone she recognized temporarily weakened Lily's knees. She latched on to the comfort of a familiar face as though it was a lifeline. While she was perfectly capable of looking out for herself and the children, knowing a local resident when visiting a strange town was always beneficial.

Regina laid a hand across her chest, highlighting a bodice that was cut a tad too generously for such an early hour. The sight sparked a long dormant memory. Mrs. Hollingsworth hadn't approved of Regina. The landlady had even locked Regina out one evening when she'd returned after curfew. Lily had snuck her in the through the kitchen.

“Clearly you're lost.” Regina swept across the room and grasped Lily's forearms. “No woman with any sense of self-preservation travels to this part of the country on purpose.”

“It's a long story,” Lily said with a sigh.

Even with their opposing temperaments, at least Lily had discovered someone who could assist in unraveling the mystery of Frozen Oaks.

“You look a fright, and your hair is mess. Did you sleep in that dress?” Regina clucked. “Let's get you a warm drink and put some color into those cheeks. One mustn't be caught looking like a member of the kitchen staff. The management is liable to put you to work.”

Instantly aware of her disheveled appearance, Lily smoothed the strings of her crushed bonnet between her thumb and forefinger.

Her head snapped up.
The outlaw.

“Did you see a man around here earlier?” Lily asked, hoping her tone conveyed nonchalance.

She gazed at her forlorn little bonnet with its faded daisy trim. Not that she cared if the man found her appearance more suitable for the back stairs than the front parlor, but she couldn't shake her inherent curiosity.

“Only Jake.” Regina shuddered delicately. “Best avoid him. As I recall, you're too trusting by half.”

Her dismissive tone raised Lily's hackles. “You didn't mind my trusting nature when I snuck you in after curfew.”