Montana Man

“My clothes. Thank you.” She smiled sunshine as the blizzard howled around them. Her gloved fingers brushed his and heat snapped up his arm.

She took her satchel with a flourish. “I figured the Pinkerton men would confiscate this.”

“I just didn’t tell them I had your satchel. It didn’t seem right. We thought you were dead, and those agents were mourning the loss of a fat bonus. I just didn’t have the heart to interrupt their grief.”

“So, I guess you know about the reward.”

She might shine like a rare diamond, but she was lost, alone and afraid. His heart tumbled. He’d always been a soft touch for anyone in need. “Is there a reward? For returning your satchel?”

“You know I meant something else.” She brushed snow from her lashes.

“Right. You’re afraid I’m going to turn you in. Now, I could hand you over to the sheriff, if you turn out to be a dangerous felon, but it’s a bad storm. In another minute all three of us are going to be icicles. So why don’t we just find a diner and have supper.”

Could it be true? Maybe some good luck finally was catching up with her. “Are you saying you’ll forget I’m on the run if I buy you a meal?”

“No. I’m the man. I’ll buy.”

Even in the dark, his grin dazzled. Though he was half frozen in the wind, humor sparkled in his eyes. The strong line of his shoulders and chest blocked the wind and most of the snow. He’d saved her on the train, just like he was doing now.

“Goody!” Josie managed to say, despite her chattering teeth. “I’m real hungry, too. Miranda, do you like fried chicken when it’s really crispy?”

“Absolutely. Trey, she’s cold. You should get her inside.”

“Then come help me. There’s an inn just a few steps from here.”

Miranda hesitated. What should she say? She needed to find a room and keep quiet. Make sure the bounty hunter hadn’t sent one or two of his men to check out the town. “I can’t.”

“Not even for fried chicken?” Josie’s teeth chattered again. “It’s my very favorite.”

Miranda hadn’t wanted anything this much in a long time. “I am looking for a place to stay, and I don’t know where to start. I suppose I could go with you.”

“Then the locket you gave Josie is working.” Trey leaned forward, his chin grazing her cheek, speaking so only she could hear. “Because it brought you to us.”

A roaring fire crackled in the inn’s dining room and drove the ice from her bones. Miranda shrugged out of her cloak, startled when Trey caught the garment by the collar and helped her out of it.

He hung her cloak on a peg by the hearth. Other jackets lined the wall, collecting heat for the other diners in the room.

I shouldn’t be here. She could feel it. She should stay hidden. She may have fooled the bounty hunter, but he would be back. As Trey led them to a table near the hearth, every one of the six customers waved greetings.

This was a close-knit community where a stranger would be noticed.

“Let me.” Trey pulled out her chair, towering over her, mountain-strong.

The breath stalled in her chest. Her skin tingled as she slipped past him. She sat down, knowing he was behind her. Having a meal with him was a very bad idea.

“Do they have mashed potatoes here, too?” Josie gazed up at her uncle, as if she had to make sure. “And not the lumpy kind?”

“The smoothest in the entire town.” He tucked her into the chair beside Miranda. “Does Baby Beth like potatoes, too?”

“She’s a baby, Uncle Trey. She’s got a bottle.” Josie rolled her eyes.

Trey’s grin flashed, sending shafts of heat straight through Miranda’s heart.

The waitress appeared to take their order, on friendly terms with Trey. When she left, Trey leaned across the table, the candle flickering between them, and caught hold of her left hand.

He turned her palm over in his to study a gash, puffy and darkened by dried blood. “Let me bandage this for you. You could use a few stitches.”

“It’s not that deep.” She slipped away from his touch. “I’ll tend to it myself.”

“You’re the independent sort. I noticed that.” He brushed his finger against the edge of her sleeve. “That’s a bad bruise on your wrist. Let me look at it. Did you do that escaping from those agents?”

Fire scorched across her skin, and she hauled her injured hand beneath the table. Out of his reach. “I cut my hand on the rail when I pretended to jump.”

“What did you really do?”

“I swung over to the ladder on the side of the car. It was within reach.”

“Pretty dangerous.” But judging by the light in her eyes, she’d taken pleasure outwitting those Pinkerton agents. “I’ve never met a woman who could climb up the side of a moving train.”

“It wasn’t moving very fast.” She dipped her chin enough to hide the shadows in her eyes.

He wondered what injuries lay within, ones he couldn’t see. “You stayed on the roof the entire train ride?”

“No, I climbed down into the baggage car and took shelter there.”

“Did you hurt your wrist on the ladder, too?”

“You’re relentless, do you know that?”

He pushed back his chair. “Just add it to my list of character attributes.”

“Flaws, you mean. All right, I was crawling across the roof of one of the passenger cars and a gust of wind pushed me into the metal lip on the roof.”

She shrugged, as if she’d done nothing unusual. She didn’t fool him, she was a woman of courage and grit. A combination he admired.

He knelt beside her and cradled her injured hand in his. Her wrist was delicate, the skin like silk. She still felt cold, oh so cold.

“I don’t need a doctor’s help.” She tried to wrestle her arm from him, but she lacked strength.

She was injured. “You could have a fracture, Miranda.”

“I can move my fingers just fine.”

He unbuttoned her sleeve and ran his fingertips across the inside of her wrist. Her skin was purple-tinged, but her wrist wasn’t broken. “Remember what I said on the train?”

“You said a great deal on the train.” Her skin seemed to burn beneath the gentle stroke of his finger.

“I’m your good-luck charm for as long as you need one. So relax and let me take care of this.” He grabbed his medical bag from beneath the table, then worked with efficiency.