Montana Man

The door blew open with a bang. Miranda protected Josie from the wind as Trey gestured for them to enter his home. Snow drove past them onto the rag rug in the entry, and Miranda took Josie’s hand, careful to keep her from slipping as she stepped with her bad leg on the slick wood floor.

“Let me tend to Josie.” Miranda knelt down to unbutton the girl’s ice-caked cloak. “It’s too cold to leave the deliveryman outside.”

Trey kicked the door closed, wrapped in snow. “Doesn’t look like Mrs. Stoltz is here right now. I hate to ask—”

“Go help the deliveryman.” Miranda nodded, peeling Josie out of her cloak. “I have a feeling they don’t usually do this in the middle of a storm.”

“Whoppler owes me a favor or two.” He winked, knelt down to ruffle Josie’s red hair. “I’m going to need a doorman.”

“I can do it!” Josie lit up. “I know I can.”

“The floor’s awful slick.”

“I can be careful.”

Affection flickered in his eyes before he tugged open the door and struggled outside into the mighty storm.

“Are you excited to get your new furniture?” Miranda tugged off Josie’s rubber boots.

“Uh-huh. It’ll be like I have a home here now.”

“I’m glad.” Miranda hung the little cloak and scarf onto wall pegs to dry. “Can you go fetch me a towel? I’ll get this floor cleaned up, so you won’t slip.”

Josie took off, her gait hurried but uneven. Miranda slipped out of her wraps, taking a moment to look around. The windows were dark, even for midday, casting the room in shadows.

Honeyed log walls and floors kept the bitter cold out. She knelt before the gray stone fireplace and stirred the banked embers. Exposed to air, they glowed. When she added kindling, they became fire.

She lit a lamp, and she could see the room better. A fine carpet softened the wood floor. The overstuffed sofa looked comfortable, the perfect place to relax after a long day. A book lay open on one of the cushions.

What would it be like to live in a home like this? Snug and cozy, safe from the bitter storm and all her troubles? To curl up on a sofa and read for hours?

“Here’s a towel.” Josie, breathless with excitement, walked as fast as her injured leg would allow.

“We’d better hurry.” Miranda set aside her daydreaming.

She barely finished drying the floor for Josie when a bump sounded at the door. Miranda opened it and let the little girl hold it open for the men.

Trey backed into the room, carrying a heavy piece of furniture. Whoppler’s youngest son held up the other end, and the men plowed through the room.

“That’s my bureau!” Josie’s eyes shone.

An hour passed before the delivery sleigh was unloaded. Each time Josie’s happiness grew a notch, her sadness faded away. Each time Miranda felt a little brighter.

“That’s it.” Trey burst through the door alone and dropped a bundle on the ground. “The blizzard looks like it’s blowing out. It’s hard to tell, though. It feels like a three-day-er.”

“A what?”

“A three-day blizzard. We get them all the time.”

“Uncle Trey, you look like a great big snowman!” Josie clapped her hands.

“Watch out, or I’m going to melt all over the floor. Who would treat Mrs. Watts’s rash then?” Trey swiped at his jacket, but the driven snow was so thick, it didn’t crumble. “I can’t find my buttons.”

“Lucky for you, I’m here.” Heart full, Miranda swept the broom’s bristles across his chest. “I’ve always wanted to take a broom to a man.”

“I bet you have.” A slow smile crooked his lips and his gaze. Why, it looked as if he was staring at her mouth.

Heat flushed her face. She didn’t lift her gaze from the broom as she swatted the stubborn snow. It wouldn’t break apart. Like a miniglacier, it remained on his chest, immovable, while she could feel his gaze on her face, soft like a touch.

She knew that touch. She’d felt it before. It was the way Lewis had looked at her when she’d thought… There. The snow cracked. One more determined swipe sent the whole of it smashing to the floor.

“Miranda, come see!” Josie pulled aside the oilcloth protecting her purchases. “Oh, the flowers look so pretty.”

“Pink roses are my favorite, too.” Miranda set the broom aside, but Trey caught her hand.

It was impossible not to look at him. Not to feel a spark of attraction, a spark she didn’t want to feel, when his gaze fell to her mouth. “Have I thanked you today?”

“You don’t need to.”

“I saw the men after you. I saw how badly they wanted you. I just want you to know—” His voice dipped, so only she could hear. “I appreciate what you’re doing for Josie. Look how happy she is. Because of you.”

“I’m sure it’s because of her dashing, debonair uncle with the big billfold.”

“Yeah, but I couldn’t have picked out the curtains to match the quilt. Or the ten other things you helped her choose. You did a good job with her.”

“Hurry up, Uncle Trey.” Josie, the shades of grief gone from her face, hugged a lace pillow in one arm and Baby Beth in the other. She limped toward her bedroom door. “I wanna see it all perfect.”

“Then we’d better get busy.” Trey’s lips brushed Miranda’s cheek, quick and light, but the contact left a snap of sensation on her flushed skin. “That’s for Josie’s smile.”

Even though she knew what all men were beneath the polish and charm, she liked him. Heaven help her, she really liked him.

Mrs. Stoltz returned in time to hem the curtains while the soup warmed. By the time the noon meal was ready, the new curtains, tiny rosebuds printed on creamy white cotton, were, too. Mrs. Stoltz promised to add ruffles later.

Trey hung the curtains across the wide window after the meal, according to his niece’s careful instructions.

The rose-and-green braided rug graced the gleaming wood floors in the room’s center. Josie’s white four-poster bed was tucked in the corner, next to the warmer inside wall. The thick quilt sported appliquéd roses against rosebud-print calico blocks, a match to the curtains at the window.

“Oh, Miranda.” Josie clasped her hands, swirling awkwardly on her injured leg. “It’s so pretty!”

“You really like it?”

“I do! It’s not like my old room at all, so it won’t make me sad.”

Miranda felt a mix of emotions, shades of sadness for the girl’s loss.

“It’s a good thing we had Miranda to help.” Trey laid his hammer on the brand-new bureau. “I might have talked you into the polka dots. We’d have had a disaster on our hands. Guess what?”

“What?” Josie gazed up at her uncle. “You got me a surprise?”