Acclaim for the authors of Wild West Christmas :

JENNA KERNAN ‘Kernan does a great job of mixing action, suspense, romance and the exciting details of the Alaskan gold rush.’ —RT Book Reviews on GOLD RUSH GROOM

‘Opposites attract in this adventurous Western set against a blistering Texas landscape, with authentic dialogue, energetic protagonists and gun-toting outlaws.’

—RT Book Reviews on THE TEXAS RANGER’S DAUGHTER

KATHRYN ALBRIGHT ‘Fans of Western and marriage-of-convenience romances have it all in this quick-paced love story.’ —RT Book Reviews on TEXAS WEDDING FOR THEIR BABY’S SAKE

‘Set against the Battle of the Alamo …

THE REBEL AND THE LADY manages to tell a tender love story against an intense, grim background.’

—All About Romance

LYNNA BANNING ‘Banning pens another delightful, quick and heartwarming read.’ —RT Book Reviews on SMOKE RIVER BRIDE

‘Flowing, beautiful, intelligent, and always historically accurate.’

—goodreads.com on LADY LAVENDER

JENNA KERNAN spent much of her childhood wandering in the woods of the Catskill Mountains, navigating the forest at her father’s instruction, so books of adventure and romance hold a special place in Jenna’s heart. Outdoorsmen have always been irresistible to her, and her husband, James, is no exception. Jenna now lives north of New York City in the Hudson Valley, USA, across the river from her beloved Catskill Mountains. She visits the grassy meadows and quiet groves often in her imagination. You can contact Jenna at www.jennakernan.com

An obstetrics nurse, sonographer and medical writer, KATHRYN ALBRIGHT was delighted to add ‘published novelist’ to her bio when her first completed manuscript made the finals in the Romance Writers of America Golden Heart Contest and was picked up by Mills & Boon. She writes American-set historical romance, and her award-winning books are inspired by the real people and events of the past. She lives in the Midwest and loves to hear from her readers at www.kathrynalbright.com

LYNNA BANNING has combined a lifelong love of history and literature into a satisfying career as a writer. Born in Oregon, she has lived in Northern California most of her life. After graduating from Scripps College she embarked on a career as an editor and technical writer, and later as a high school English teacher. An amateur pianist and harpsichordist, Lynna performs on psaltery and harp in a medieval music ensemble and coaches in her spare time. She enjoys hearing from her readers. You may write to her directly at PO Box 324, Felton, CA 95018, USA, e-mail her at carowoolston@att.net or visit Lynna’s website at www.lynnabanning.com

Wild West Christmas

A Family For the Rancher

Jenna Kernan

Dance with a Cowboy

Kathryn Albright

Christmas in Smoke River

Lynna Banning

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CONTENTS

Cover

Praise

About the Authors

Title Page

A Family for the Rancher

Dear Reader

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Dance with a Cowboy

Dear Reader

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Christmas in Smoke River

Dear Reader

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Chapter Forty

Epilogue

Copyright

A Family For the Rancher

Jenna Kernan

Dear Reader,

This Christmas, I’m pleased to introduce you to an odd couple. Alice Truett is an entitled young miss, determined to prove her metal by bringing the orphaned nephews of her best friend to their uncle, the only man she’s ever loved. She thinks he left her because she failed to tell him that she was a wealthy heiress, but the truth is very different.

Dillen Roach once had prospects, but that was before his father abandoned him, leaving Dillen to support his sister and mother. Dillen once held hope that he could make his fortune and return for Alice. But he failed, and now, instead of returning for her, she’s returned for him with two little boys in tow. He thinks she’s come out of Christian goodness, and she plans to be home for the holidays.

I’ll promise that Alice will be with her family for Christmas, but it won’t be the family she expected.

Come along as Dillen and Alice heal old wounds and give two boys a Christmas to remember.

If you enjoy my story, please let me know on Goodreads or Amazon. You can write to me at www.jennakernan.com. And for the very latest news, follow me on Twitter, @jennakernan, or find me on Facebook.

Merry Christmas!

Jenna Kernan

For Jim, always

Chapter One

Blue River Junction, Colorado, 1880

Dillen Roach held a letter from Alice Truett in one hand and a half-empty bottle of whiskey in the other. The woman had a gift. Every time he had contact with her, she threw his world off-kilter. This time her correspondence marked a death. The whiskey buoyed him as the grief pressed down hard on his shoulders, chest and heart. According to Alice, his little sister, Sylvia, was gone. Dead and buried shortly after her husband, Ben Asher, who had come down with spinal fever. Sylvia had tried to nurse him and had caught the same damned thing. His end had been quick and Sylvia’s had been slow or “exceedingly difficult,” to use Alice’s exact words.

But she’d had time to make out a will and leave her boys to him. Sylvia’s brain fever was the only explanation for such a bad choice. But perhaps she had made it because he was her only choice. Dillen barely managed to keep himself alive and was in no position to take on two youngsters.

The December wind whipped down the street, threatening to tear his battered tan Stetson from his head. Dillen pressed down on the crown, keeping hold of his hat but releasing the front of his unfastened sheepskin coat. The wind sent the sides flapping like the wings of an agitated rooster. The bite of icy cold sobered him enough so that he thought he might reach his destination without falling again, but then he missed the first step to the telegraph office and folded over the sturdy banister. A gentleman, with a trim white beard and a charcoal-gray overcoat that was distinctly devoid of grime or snow, gave Dillen a wide berth and a sour look as he trotted down the stairs as agile as a mink. Dillen leaned against the wall before the door to catch his breath. He had business to attend. Then he could finish the bottle. He was a big man, but the liquor was strong and his endurance for such indulgences was limited.

Dillen pressed the bottle under one armpit, clamping down tight to keep from losing the contents as he opened the door and staggered into the telegraph office. Good thing he had written out his responses before he’d hit that bottle, because he could no longer see straight.

The clerk spun around when Dillen got tangled up in the chair beside the writing desk provided for customers. He ended up kicking the chair harder than he’d intended, sending it sliding on its casters like a block of fresh-cut ice on a frozen lake.

“Now, see here,” said the clerk, lifting the latched portion of the counter to step from the safety of his recessed sanctuary. Then, taking a good look at Dillen, he dropped the section back in place. Dillen had that effect on folks even when he wasn’t drinking. His size accounted for some of it, he supposed, his pistol for the rest. Though he wasn’t an outlaw or a lawman. Just a cowboy turned showman, trick rider and marksman. That and three years of his life had gotten him absolutely nowhere. In fact, he was further behind now than when he started. Glaring at the clerk, Dillen patted down his various pockets in search of the scraps of brown paper he’d salvaged from a package from the dry-goods store.

“I gotta send two telegrams,” said Dillen, rocking forward against the counter and nearly sprawling across the polished walnut surface.

The clerk looked so young he barely had whiskers. But his blue eyes were clear and his movements steady as he pointed to the desk, now lacking a chair. “Just copy them down on the form you see there.”

Dillen glanced over his shoulder at the twin desks, one now floating slightly higher and to the left of the first. He returned his gaze to the clerk. “How’s about you copy them into your little form? Just take them down as I wrote them.”

“That is very irregular,” said the representative of the United Telegraph office.

Dillen slapped a silver dollar on the counter. “Make it worth your while.”

The coin vanished and the clerk lifted his pen expectantly. Dillen found the two ragged pieces of paper in his front left pants pocket and ironed them flat on the counter with the side of his broad hand. Then he examined them and set them side by side.

The clerk took down his name and filled in the necessary boxes. He needed Dillen to read the one he wrote to Alice because at the time Dillen had composed that particular missive he’d already been blind drunk.

“Says, ‘Situation unstable. Unable to take them now.’” Dillen wiped his nose, feeling the guilt chewing on his guts again. He was their only living blood kin. “I’ll take them, by God, but not now.”

The clerk scribbled.

“Don’t write that last part. Just what I said. ‘Situation unstable. Will wire after the first of the year. Regards. Dillen Roach.’ That’s it. Read it back.”

The clerk complied.

Dillen dictated the other message to the horse trainer in Cripple Creek. His boss wanted those three-year-olds as a Christmas gift for his ten-year-old twin boys. Dillen had seen the twin foals himself and given his report, promising to have them ready for riding by the thaw. He couldn’t see to the ranch, break two horses and take custody of his nephews, Cody and Colin. He’d take them, but first he needed a different situation. How old were his sister’s children now?

His brain was too fuzzy to do the math.

“You done scribbling?” asked Dillen. He was thinking about his sister, Sylvie, again. He retrieved the whiskey and set it on the counter, squeezing the neck of the bottle as his eyes burned. “Read it back.”

“‘Interested in taking the pair. Stop. Immediate delivery. Stop. Will pay for transport for both plus handler. Stop. Wire arrival date and time.’”

“Fine,” said Dillen.

The bell above the door jangled merrily. Dillen turned to glare at the bell and then the young dandy who took one look at Dillen and decided he had pressing business elsewhere.

“I need the delivery information,” said the clerk.

Dillen wondered what Alice would think of his reply. Disappointed, he decided and she had every right to be. He had been nothing to his former sweetheart but one giant disappointment. Still, he’d been straight with Alice. He couldn’t say the same for her.

“The recipient?” asked the clerk, tapping his fountain pen now.

He recited the address from memory. “Miss Alice Pinter Truett, 1606 South 32nd Avenue, Hanscom Park, Omaha, Nebraska.”

“And this one?”

“Mr. Todd Jackson, Horse Creek Crossing Ranch, Cripple Creek, Colorado.”

“Send them right out.”

Dillen paid the man and waited, dozing as the metallic tap of the telegraph set in motion the first in a string of dominoes that would lead directly back to his door.

His mission accomplished, Dillen staggered out into the blowing snow toward the lights of the Nugget Saloon.

* * *

Miss Alice Lorraine Pinter Truett stood on the icy platform of the Blue River Junction train station with her two charges, Cody and Colin Asher, braced against her dark skirts like flying buttresses. She had a horror that the departing train might suck the boys under those steel wheels and so gripped tight with her gloved hand to the narrow shoulders of each child.

Alice had never been outside Omaha, Nebraska—much less away from the safety of her family, who were less than supportive of her decision to escort her friend’s offspring to their uncle.

The whistle shrieked and Alice startled as Colin began to wail. Cody jumped and clutched at her skirts, fumbling to find any purchase that was not taffeta or velvet, and failed. Alice squatted and scooped Colin into her arms and pulled Cody close. The little lambs had lost their mother and father, and she felt a poor substitute.

There the boys huddled like two blackbirds flanking one black crow. She’d bought the traveling clothing for the children, thinking it appropriate for them to wear black to mark the passing of their parents.

Steam blasted across the platform with a loud hiss as the train crept forward. Cody lifted his head to watch the monstrous metal marvel as it picked up speed. The grinding of the wheels on the track was positively deafening, and Alice clamped one hand to Colin’s ear and pulled his other against her breast.

Alice hoped that Dillen had received her reply. He did instruct that she bring the children as soon as possible, so she had wired him their arrival details. She was not certain what bothered her more, being called the children’s “handler” or his admission that he was interested in taking the pair, as if she would even entertain separating these two orphans. In her heart she feared that perhaps he did not want Colin. Men were funny about young children, feeling they required a woman’s hand and so forth, all of which might be true, but...

She allowed herself a moment’s fantasy in which Dillen would now need her help. The instant she realized what she was doing she cast off the ridiculous notion. Dillen Roach had once told her that he would not accept her help and that he did not expect her to wait for him. He could not have been blunter if he had told her that he saw no future for them. She still wondered how she could have misread him so completely. He had offered small hope, that he still held her in highest regard. But then he’d never come back. His actions spoke much louder than words.

Yet here she was, still turning down perfectly suitable gentlemen of her own class to chase the one man for whom the money did not eclipse her shortcomings. But she wasn’t here for him, at least not directly. She was here for the children. Wasn’t she?

Blast, where was the man?

Chapter Two

The engine puffed, belching black smoke skyward as steam blasted across the platform. Dillen stomped up the planking of the station stop that was so new he could still see the sawdust frozen to the seams. What the Sam Hill was Alice Lorraine Pinter Truett doing ferrying his sister’s boys out here anyway? Couldn’t she hire a servant to run her errands?

And then he saw her, and his feet stopped of their own volition as his heart took up pounding like a cobbler’s hammer. He would recognize her anywhere, the way she moved, the inclination of her head.

She stood all in black in a perfectly tailored coat that clung to her in all the right places and showed that her figure had only improved in his two-year absence. He let his gaze wander appreciatively up from the expensive skirts hemmed in real velvet to the fur-trimmed coat. Was that sable at her cuffs and collar? Her head was capped with a felt-and-fur hat secured to her elegant upswept hair with a hatpin topped with a pearl the size of a pinto bean. It was a shock to see her as she really was, a wealthy woman who had come to do her duty by his sister.

He’d known from the instant he’d met Alice that she was uncommon, but how could he have failed to recognize how uncommon?

He wondered if her features had changed as he recalled her big, wide-set, green, earnest, intelligent eyes. He was so focused on trying to see her face that it wasn’t until he caught movement at her side that he noticed that one child was pressed close to her skirts and she held the other one in her arms. His nephews, he realized. If he didn’t know better, he would have sworn they were hers. He’d never thought of her that way, but now wondered what kind of a mother Alice might be.

With a stab of guilt he realized she would likely already be one now if he hadn’t run like a colt in a summer meadow.

Alice lowered the little one to the ground and took each boy by the hand. Dillen looked at his sister’s sons. The smaller one would be Colin, the youngest, he realized. Why, Dillen recalled when he was just a baby. And now Colin would be six. The child had thinned out and his hair was even a lighter brown than Sylvia’s had been. Dillen looked at the other boy who was a few inches taller and clung to Alice’s opposite hand as he strained for a better look at the departing engine. Cody, he recalled, was eight and was also in black right down to the high socks and shiny shoes. He looked to Dillen like a tiny undertaker in short pants. This one might be old enough to recall him. Cody’s mink-brown hair curled from beneath his cap and was the same color exactly as his mother’s had been. Dillen’s smile faded as an unfamiliar stab of grief pierced him.

He wanted to go to his nephews and hug them and tell them that he’d take care of them, but the truth was he could barely take care of himself.

His attention turned back to Alice. He drank in the sight of her. Damn, he thought, what he wouldn’t give to have a woman like Alice Truett. Everything, anything, but wanting didn’t make that possible. He sure had learned that lesson well.

Dillen found the strength to step forward. This next part would sure be hard. But it had to be done, for the boys’ sake.

As he neared her, he became aware of the mountain of luggage on the cart behind her. It looked like they’d emptied an entire freight car. He had a sudden horror that all that gear might belong to Alice. But that was impossible, wasn’t it? Dillen counted four hatboxes and knew with cold certainty that they all belonged to the wealthy, entitled miss who might already be spoken for. That thought put a hitch in his stride. He fumbled in his pocket, feeling the two silver dollars knock together. How much would it cost to take all that gear to the hotel? Worse still, how much would it cost to rent her a room?

More than he had, he knew. Dillen gritted his teeth. He couldn’t afford Alice for even one afternoon—let alone a lifetime. The truth bit into him with sharp teeth, but he couldn’t shake it off.

He came to a stop before them. Colin leaned back to stare, his mouth dropping open as he gaped, looking very much like he might cry. Cody had also spotted his uncle and gave a sharp tug on Alice’s sleeve before turning around, almost like a soldier awaiting inspection.

Colin likely knew his uncle only through stories, if his uncle ever came up at all. Dillen wondered which stories he might have heard and scowled as a series of possibilities danced through his mind. He met Cody’s gaze. Two years was a long time to a child. Did the boy recall him?

Alice did not need Cody’s warning for she now regarded him with a steady stare and a tight expression that took the lush, full curve from her enticing lips. Didn’t matter. Even frowning, seeing Alice was like seeing a butterfly in December. He still felt dizzy with the effort of not reaching out to touch her. He noticed the hollows beneath her cheeks now. She’d lost weight and sleep, he realized, judging from the smudge marks under her eyes. Had she been at Sylvie’s grave when they’d lowered his sister into the ground?

Sylvie had written him on occasion, when he had a place to receive mail. She had said that she and Alice had remained friends after his parting. Her presence here told him without words that this was true.

“Mr. Roach,” said Alice, her voice formal, but still sweet music to his ears.

Had she really let him kiss her that Christmas Eve, before he’d met her family and everything had gone to hell?

He found himself reaching, clasping her by the shoulders and turning her so he could look at the face he thought of each night and every day on waking. Alice stared up at him, her mouth now slightly open as she drew in a surprised breath. He acted on instinct, pulling her in and holding her close, feeling her stiffen and then, an instant later, go as pliant as a willow branch. He inhaled the sweet fragrance of her skin and felt the soft brush of her hair on his face. Then she was stiffening again, turning to stone in his arms as she leaned away. She gave him a small shake of her head and then glanced to the boys, collecting their hands once more.

“I am exceedingly sorry for your loss, Mr. Roach,” Alice said, her tone stiff with formality. “Your sister was a good friend, a loving wife and an exemplary mother.”

Now Dillen felt awkward. He shouldn’t have hugged her. He had no right. She might even be spoken for, though Sylvie had not mentioned it. He glanced to her left hand and saw it sheathed in a finely made black leather glove, revealing nothing. He met her gaze, finding the small line between her brows that indicated concern. He waited, his stomach knotting as she pulled the boys forward so they stood shoulder to shoulder just before her now.

“These are your nephews.” Then she spoke to the pair. “Colin and Cody Asher, this is your mother’s only sibling, your uncle Dillen Roach.”

The woman could make a formal introduction like nobody’s business.

Dillen knelt down to meet the two at eye level. “Hello, boys. I’m your ma’s brother.” Colin stuck his thumb in his mouth as he fell back against Alice, huddling against her as if trying to disappear into the fine wool and velvet of her skirts. Dillen turned to Cody and extended his hand, open and up as he would to an unfamiliar dog. The boy looked at Dillen’s empty hand. Confusion wrinkled his brow as he glanced from his uncle’s empty hand back to his uncle. Why the devil hadn’t he thought to buy a peppermint stick? Instead he had brought them nothing. How appropriate. “You remember me, son?”

Cody nodded. “Yes, sir. You use to come by Sundays for supper and play the fiddle. You used to pour medicine from a bottle into your coffee when Ma wasn’t looking. Are you feeling better now?”

Dillen glanced to Alice, whose look showed reproach at this revelation. It was true. He had brought liquor into his sister’s home. Young and dumb, he’d been. Now that memory shamed him, but it did serve to illustrate what he already believed. He’d make a terrible parent, maybe even worse than his own father, if that were possible.

Dillen gave the boy a gentle punch in the arm. “I still occasionally feel the need to take a dose.”

Alice might as well know that he was not the man she hoped he’d become. Show her right off the disappointment he was and confirm in her mind that she was well rid of him. No use putting it off. Dillen rose to face her.

“The front of your coat is all wet.” She lifted a gloved hand to touch him, and then hesitated. He looked at the finely made, fitted black leather sheathing her hand like a second skin. Had she bought her mourning attire especially for this journey? Of course she would have. Nothing but the best for the Truett family. Their eyes met and held.

“Why’d you bring them, Alice, when I asked you not to?”

She bristled as if he had struck her clean across the face. “You said nothing of the sort.” She released Cody and rummaged in a small velvet reticule that hung from her slim wrist by a satin cord. A moment later her gloved hand reemerged holding a folded scrap of paper. She straightened the page and cleared her throat before reading aloud. “‘Interested in taking the pair. Stop. Immediate delivery. Stop. Will pay for transport for both plus handler. Stop. Wire arrival date and time.’”

Dillen’s stomach dropped six inches as he realized two things simultaneously. He’d sent Alice the wrong telegram, and that meant that the horses that his boss was expecting him to have purchased were not going to be delivered.

Dillen snatched the telegram and read. Then he threw down his hat and swore.

“Holy hell!”

Alice gasped and covered Colin’s ears too late as Dillen pressed a hand to his forehead and swayed. He had two duties. Help Bill Roberts with the jobs he could no longer manage at the ranch and purchase and train those two green horses. How was he going to tell his boss that he’d failed to buy the twin Welsh ponies? Worse yet, how was he supposed to train two horses he didn’t have?

What had he wired Alice exactly? Something about writing after the first of the year. He muttered a curse, because he knew the breeder had at least one other offer.

He retrieved his hat, turned to Alice and said, “I gotta go.”

“What?” she yelped.

But Dillen didn’t answer because he was already running over the icy platform toward the telegraph office.

Chapter Three

Dillen Roach ran to the telegraph station. If Alan Harvey found out that he’d sent that telegram, then he was out of his situation in the dead of winter.

Dillen waited in a panic for Morecastle’s reply.

What had Sylvie done, leaving her boys to him? Surely there had to be a better situation than this. But maybe she didn’t realize that. His sister couldn’t know how hard his life was, for he’d kept it from her. He should have been honest. If he had told her the truth, she would never have left her children in his custody.

He thought of Alice and the boys waiting at the station and decided he’d best go fetch them. And bring them where? As he contemplated this, the telegraph sprang to life and his message came through. Mr. Morecastle now wanted him to come to Cripple Creek in person with cash immediately, or he would not hold the pair. Dillen sent his reply.

Now he needed to find a place for Alice and the boys while he headed up the line to Cripple Creek. His first thought was Mrs. Louise Pellet. She was his foreman’s niece and ran a clean boardinghouse in town. Maybe she’d be willing to take the boys for a spell if he could persuade her to let him pay her on time. He and her Bill ate Sunday supper at Mrs. Pellet’s table, which was a meal he anticipated all week. He couldn’t think why she’d do him this favor, but she was a Christian woman. Maybe that was reason enough.

The only other person he thought might help him was a woman whose name he wasn’t quite sure of. Alma, or Erma? He knew the last name was McCrery and he thought she was the wife of Sylvia’s husband’s uncle. He recalled she was a widow who lived alone in a big house in Chicago. He knew the street as well, since he’d met her at Sylvia’s wedding and attended the reception there. She’d been ancient then and the connection was tenuous, but it was all he had.

The telegram that he sent to Mrs. Edna McCrery was brief. Just that since the death of Sylvia and Mrs. McCrery’s nephew, Ben Asher, there were two orphan boys who he could not care for. Would she take them?

He didn’t wait for a reply. Leaving Alice alone on the train station platform had been a combination of raw panic and bad judgment. If she was wise she would have boarded the next train heading down the mountain.

Dillen removed his hat before entering the railroad station and raked his fingers through his shaggy hair. He wished he’d had time for a cut and to shave off his three-days’ growth of beard before seeing her again, because he knew he looked like what he was: a no-account bronc breaker. When he entered the depot and found it empty, Dillen broke out in a sweat.

He was still sweating when he heard someone call his name.

“You Dillen Roach?”

He turned to see a man in uniform shuffling forward. The stationmaster, he realized. The man was so stooped he appeared to be addressing Dillen’s boots.

He nodded, then spoke up. “Yes, sir.”

“She headed over to the hotel.”

There were several hotels in Blue River Junction, and more than a few were wholly unsuitable for a lady to enter and all of which he could not afford.

“Which one?”

The man scowled. “Blue River Junction Hotel, course!”

Dillen replaced his hat.

“She left you a message.” He slid a small white envelope across the counter.

Dillen had to remove his work gloves to open the tiny thing. Inside was her calling card with her name embossed in raised black font—Alice Lorraine Pinter Truett. He flipped the card and saw her neat looping script in pencil.

We are lunching at the hotel.

Please feel free to join us at your earliest convenience.

* * *

Alice secured a porter and, after speaking to the ticket operator, determined that the only acceptable hotel in this small oasis in the mountains was the Blue River. She was told the establishment was within easy walking distance, but the ice made travel a challenge. She was greatly relieved to see that the ladies seemed respectable and the male residents did not strut about with pistols on their hips like gunslingers, except Dillen. She had noted that he was armed.

The hotel itself was a pleasant surprise, opulent in a way that was not garish, but still it gleamed with polished wood, fine fabrics and chandeliers with sparkling crystals. The dining room appeared an inviting place to begin.

She gave her luggage to the bellman and saw it secured before tipping him for his trouble. Her father always handled the money and Alice had limited experience with such matters. Then she left word with the clerk at the front desk about her expectations that a Mr. Roach would be joining them in the dining room. She felt quite pleased at having conducted the business by herself. As long as no one could see how her knees were knocking beneath her skirts, she might almost be mistaken for a competent caregiver. It was a small step toward proving her mettle but she still counted it, along with making her trip from Omaha unescorted. Sylvia’s death proved to Alice that her friend had managed more life in her short years than Alice had in her entire lifetime, and she was three years older than Dillen’s sister had been. The realization disconcerted and had brought her to this place despite her mother’s objections. She would see Dillen and reconcile what had passed between them one way or the other. From the look of him, he had not been pining for her. Even more annoying, he had run out on her a second time. It was enough to make her feel as if she carried some form of plague.

Once settled in the dining room, close to the woodstove, she had not even time to lift the menu before Colin tugged at her skirt. A few minutes later they had returned from the privy and prevailed on a waiter to allow them to wash their hands. This time she read the first menu item before Colin again tugged at her skirts.

“Where’s Uncle Dillen?”

She knew that children should be seen and not heard. She knew because her mother had constantly said so. Still, she did not have the heart to shush him. At six, Colin was an inexhaustible sponge, soaking up everything around him and curious as a cat.

“I’m not sure, dear.”

She redirected their attention toward lunch, and soon her selection was served. The fare was excellent, far better than the bustle and rush of the rail station meals. Alice savored her pot of gunpowder tea as the boys devoured their apple pie as if they had not already eaten everything on their plates. They seemed to be always hungry. Alice watched them with a mixture of pride and sorrow. Very soon she would have to give them up and return to her home. She had only had them for three weeks. Two after Sylvia took ill. And one since her friend’s burial beside her husband, Ben Asher.

The hotel manager finally arrived, as she had requested, and she asked if he knew Dillen Roach.

“Roach, yes, ma’am. He took over the Harvey place, about three miles outside of town. Small spread, but nice. Horses mostly. Hear he’s a real whiz with horses. I can get you directions.”

Alice frowned at learning Dillen had a horse ranch. A man with a home was usually able to wed. Perhaps to a woman to whom he had professed the most tender of emotions and declared the most honorable of intentions. But that was before he learned the truth. Why hadn’t she told him sooner?

Because deep in your heart you wanted a man who loved you for yourself and not for your money. She could hardly blame him for leaving her. A lie was a black and evil thing.

She asked the manager if Mr. Roach was married.

“No, ma’am.”

She closed her eyes in a vain effort to hide her relief. But the joy was short-lived, for if Dillen had a place of his own and had not even written her, well, that told her all she needed to know. She thanked the manager and he took his leave. Alice poured another cup of tea with a shaking hand.

If there was anything Alice had learned following Dillen’s leave-taking, it was that, unlike the other men in her life, Dillen was not lured by her family’s fortune. Without that money, what was she? She felt the determination to learn the answer to that question. She had lived a sheltered life quite long enough. Alice was ready to see what she was made of.

She straightened, gathering her resolve for what would come. Giving up the boys would break her heart. But she must honor her friend’s dying wish—that her boys be raised by family.

Cody straightened in the chair upon which he knelt. He lowered his fork and lifted his finger.

“Cody, dear, it’s not polite to point.”

“But, Miss Alice, I see Uncle Dillen, and he looks mad.”

* * *

Dillen crossed the hotel’s elegant lobby but found no sign of Alice, so he headed for the dining room. A fussy-looking gent stationed behind a high pedestal swept him with a disapproving look and his face pinched up as if he’d sucked a dill pickle. Dillen glared and the man spun about and vanished behind the swinging door to the kitchen before Dillen could ask him about Alice. He shrugged and searched the room for Alice. He found her an instant later and he paused in the doorway.

She looked right here, in the elegant surroundings. A refined lady seated at a table draped in white linen so bright it hurt his eyes. The sight made him more aware of his worn, faded dungarees and the smell of horse that emanated from his sheepskin jacket. She belonged here, but he sure the hell did not.

The boys sat facing him, heads down over their plates of pie, their legs tucked beneath them so they could reach the table. Alice sat in profile, and he admired her glossy brown hair looped up into a coronet on top of her head. The style revealed the curve of her slender neck. He’d never seen her hair down, but now discovered that he wanted that more than anything he could think of, apart from seeing her as God made her.

She lifted a fine china teacup to her mouth. Her full lips pursed to sip and Dillen’s stomach flipped clean over. His skin went all hot and prickly, and he couldn’t breathe until that tiny cup was seated back on its saucer. The woman was like a mule kick to his gut every time he looked at her.

Cody lifted his head, spotted his uncle and then pointed in Dillen’s direction.

Alice spoke to Cody and then stilled with her tea suspended for a long moment between her mouth and the table. She lowered her cup, then lifted a hand so her elegant fingers danced over the cameo-and-diamond brooch. As he stalked forward, she released the brooch, clenched her napkin upon her lap before pivoting in her seat to face him. These small gestures were the only indication of her disquiet. But he knew her and was not fooled by her elegant posture and fixed smile. Alice was less than happy to see him.

Who could blame her?

She held his gaze, staring directly at him. One thin brow quirked and her shoulders straightened. The wooden smile of welcome remained, a lie. Only this time he wasn’t fooled. He resisted the urge to turn tail. He’d done enough running. Now it was time to settle things, do what was best for the boys. Damn, he felt like such a failure.

Why couldn’t Alice be an ordinary sort of woman?

Why did his sister have to go and die when he was holed up in a winter job? Four months, and then what? He didn’t know. Another cattle drive? Driving horses?

He didn’t want to give his nephews up, but he’d be damned if he’d drag them about from place to place as his father had done with him and Sylvie. Now he was just as rootless as dear old Dad. Children needed a home, and he knew that he couldn’t give them one. He had no business even entertaining the notion of keeping them, yet his heart still ached with the impending loss. He didn’t understand it. He didn’t even know them.

But then he didn’t have to. They were Sylvie’s. That was enough. He thought of his own father and grimaced.

“Can’t do worse than that,” he muttered.

Steeling himself for what must be done, he marched across the long runner that bisected the rows of dining tables. This being neither lunch nor dinner, the room was quiet. He passed only one other customer, a gentleman in a clean brown suit whose hat rested, brim up, in the empty seat beside him.

Momentum carried Dillen forward until he rested a hand on the top of the two chairs occupied by his nephews, but his eyes were still on Alice seated before her china teacup.

“You look just the same as the last time I saw you.”

Her eyes narrowed at the reference. “Do you mean at the station?”

The corners of his mouth tipped down and he could see from the glitter in those green eyes that she knew exactly what he had meant.

“I meant in Omaha on Christmas Eve.”

Perhaps she was recalling the last thing he’d said to her before his departure from Omaha.

I don’t even know you. But it wasn’t her lie that had sent him running. It was the truth, and that was a far different thing.

“Appearances can be deceiving,” she said. “You above all should know that.”

He thought it was this woman, more than appearances, that were deceiving. If only it had not all been a glorious lie. Still, he wouldn’t trade his memories of Alice for the truth.

He became aware of the silence and that someone other than Alice was staring. His nephews sat as still as twin fence posts, watching him with the dark brown eyes of his sister. Without their hats, he could see the wide-set eyes fringed with dark lashes and the familiar wavy hair of the Roach family. The resemblance was so strong that he realized, with a pang of pride, that they could easily be mistaken for his. He’d once hoped to be a father, vowing that unlike his own, he would be kind, supportive and present. Now that fate had given him the opportunity, he would be forced to give them up for their own good.

“How’s the pie?”

Cody nodded. “Fine, sir. Would you like some?” He pushed the half-eaten pastry in Dillen’s direction.

“Cody,” said Alice, “what did we say you should call Mr. Roach?”

“Oh.” Cody rubbed the back of his neck and then said. “Uncle Dillen, would you like some pie?”

His mouth watered as he shook his head. “That’s all right, son. Have at it.”

Colin grinned, showing he had a good deal of piecrust stuck to his cheeks. Alice dipped a lace-trimmed handkerchief into her drinking glass and mopped Colin clean. It was a gesture so maternal it made Dillen’s stomach drop an inch as the longing gripped him hard and low. She just kept surprising him. Why was she here? Was it only the boys?

Why else? You think just because you missed her every waking moment that she missed you?

“May I join you?” asked Dillen.

Alice motioned to the empty seat. He removed his hat and hung it on the spindle on the chair back, then tucked in beside Alice. He settled in the seat, and for just a moment he pretended he was the head of the household and they were all his. He let the fantasy linger a moment longer before letting it die under an avalanche of reality. He didn’t even have the scratch for a haircut, let alone a family.

The waiter arrived and handed Dillen a menu printed on thick cream-colored paper. Every single item on the sheet would have cost him a day’s wages. He set the menu aside and then assessed the empty plates, struck with the sudden fear that he’d have to pay for their meal. The shame of not having the funds to cover one lunch nearly drove him from the table. He actually rose when Alice laid a hand on his forearm.

“Where are you going?”

“I—I...” He had no earthly idea. His brain had stopped working the minute he saw that menu.

Dillen stilled as her fingers splayed over his sleeve, and he wished he’d taken off his coat so he could feel her touch. But it didn’t matter. Just sitting beside her, smelling her delicate perfume, brought it all back, that night, their kiss. Him being fool enough to think he could ever keep a woman as fine as Alice. Her being fool enough to believe her parents would welcome the likes of him to their family. Her hand slipped back to her lap and her cheeks flushed. Was she thinking of how he’d held her? How he’d told her he loved her?

“Is everything all right, Mr. Roach?” she asked.

“Fine,” he lied.

He would rather be back on that crazy three-year-old mustang crow-hopping across the pen than here beside her in this fancy-pants restaurant with those two boys looking to him for answers he didn’t have.

The waiter returned and asked what he’d like.

“Nothing,” he said.

“Coffee, black,” said Alice simultaneously. Then she turned to him. “Have you eaten?”

He hadn’t, not since the stale biscuit he’d had with bacon this morning, and it was now closer to dinner than lunch.

“I’m not hungry,” he lied again.

Alice made a face. “A ham sandwich with fried potatoes,” she said to the waiter.

“I can’t stay.”

That made her shoulders wilt. But she rallied, her gaze still on the waiter. “Wrap it to go, if you please.”

The man nodded and returned the way he had come. She waited until he had vanished to the kitchens before turning to face Dillen.

“You cannot stay?” she asked.

He shook his head.

“What happened at the station?”

“I made a mistake. The telegram you received? That was for a horse breeder. I was asking him to send two horses. Now I’ve got to go up to Cripple Creek to get the pair because he got the telegram saying I couldn’t take them. The one I meant to send to you.”

Cody’s legs went out from under him and he hit the padded seat hard.

Alice’s hand shook, making the teacup rattle on the saucer. “Did you say that you could not take them?”

“I just can’t take them right now. I need a little time. I’m sorry you came all the way out here.”

“Immediate delivery, you said.”

“Delivery of the twin Welsh ponies. They are the latest acquisitions for the Harvey spread, and I have to go fetch them now.”

Alice’s face grew pink as she regarded him for a long silent moment. “Yes, I see. How long will your errand take?”

“Overnight.”

“And then you can take them?”

Dillen was silent.

“I see.” Alice’s gray-green eyes shimmered, and her face looked long and drawn. She rose. Dillen followed her to her feet and retrieved his hat. Alice turned to the boys. “Your uncle and I need a private word. Please stay at the table. Cody, you are in charge.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Alice walked to the opposite side of the room, standing before the tall window, each pane frosted from the cold. The afternoon light showed the creamy perfection of her skin. Two pink patches glowed on her cheeks, and Dillen knew that Miss Truett was struggling with her emotions. Dillen felt like a dog as he slunk up before her.

“Mr. Roach, those two boys need you. You are their closest living relative and the only one they have ever met. Mr. Asher’s parents predeceased him and they had no other children. Then you send me a telegram to bring these boys immediately and so I have. Now you tell me this is all some dreadful mistake. I need to know, Mr. Roach, what your intentions are toward your nephews’ care.”

“I want to take them. It’s just...” He couldn’t bring himself to tell her the truth—that he was a saddle stiff, a carnival hand, a no-account.

“When you conclude your purchase of horses, will you be able to take charge of them?”

He stared at her in mute indecision. He wanted them, but he also wanted what was best for them. He wasn’t it.

“Mr. Roach, do you not want them?”

“I want them. Of course I do.”

“Is it a matter of time, then? Do you wish me to stay for a few days to allow you to make necessary preparations?”

All the time in this wide world would not be enough for Dillen to provide a home for two youngsters. But Dillen looked down into her large, trusting eyes and saw that Alice really believed he could do it. Her sincerity and confidence took away some of the panic and he reined in his racing heart. Next thing he knew he was nodding yes. A little more time. Time for his brother-in-law’s great-aunt to reply. Time to find someone who could raise his sister’s children, time to disappoint Alice Pinter Truett once more.

“Very well. I’ll take a room here and see to the boys. How long will you require for your business?”

“Be back by tomorrow.”

“We shall expect to see you then.” Alice extended her slender hand, bare now that she was at her meal. Dillen clasped hold. Her skin was smooth and satiny. He used his thumb to stroke the soft skin on the back of her hand. Alice gasped and her green eyes went wide. But she did not pull away. Instead she lifted her free hand and stroked his face, allowing the pads of her fingers to caress the apple of his cheek before traveling over the coarse hairs of his close-cropped beard. Now it was Dillen’s turn to go still as her hand came to rest on his chest, her fingers splayed as if to still his thumping heart.

“Come back soon,” she whispered, and then withdrew, her hands retreating, her expression changing from wide-eyed need to the deferential demeanor of a proper lady. But for an instant he’d glimpsed her again, the woman he had fallen in love with. The one he had kissed. The passionate, free spirit she had become when she was with him.

Which woman was she?

Dillen watched her walk away. There was no sultry sway of her hips, just the clipped, sedate walk of a woman of means and character. A woman so far above him that he feared he’d just imagined that spark that flew between them like a hot ember jumping from one blazing roof to the next.

But his skin still tingled from her touch and his body shouted for him to advance. Instead he tucked his hat down tight and retreated as fast as his long legs could carry him.

Come back soon, she’d said. Lord, help me, because she could do so much better than my sorry hide.

As he reached the train station, he knew he couldn’t stay away from her. She was too sweet and he was too hungry. This would end badly for them both. Why the devil had she come here?

Chapter Four

Alice did not see Dillen the following day, nor the day after that.

While she waited for him to conclude his business, she wired her family of her safe arrival, penned her elder brother, Arthur, a letter and did some Christmas shopping for his daughters Harriet, age seven, and Lizzy, age nine. She had already finished her shopping for her younger brother, Edward’s, children, though her nieces would hardly notice the gifts since Amelia was only two and Lidia just seven months come December. Alice had always spent Christmas Eve at her grandfather’s home, a very elegant affair, the house open for all the right sort of people. Alice never enjoyed this part of the holidays. But afterward they would return to her parents’ more modest home and she would exchange gifts with both her brothers and their growing families. Christmas morning was spent attending church with her parents—though she wished she could be at her brother’s home in the morning when the girls woke and found what Santa had brought them, but understood that this was a private family time. Knowing so only made her long for a family of her own, for children with whom she could share the joy and innocence of those mornings.

She knew that Colin and Cody believed in Santa with their whole hearts. She managed to distract them with the help of the clerk so she had time to make several purchases for their stockings. The boys left the shop unknowingly carrying their own gifts, which made her smile. They were such good boys. Sylvia would be so proud. She sighed wistfully as Colin and Cody skipped along beside her on the snow-covered road. She needed to get these two to their uncle soon, for she feared that if she waited much longer she might not be able to give them up.

Alice returned to the hotel to inquire at the front desk if there were a message from Mr. Roach. Finding none, she went directly to the telegraph office to inquire there.

“No, ma’am” came the reply from the operator. “Did see him come through town yesterday, though. Had those two ponies. Fine looking pair. Oh, and no word yet from Chicago,” he said, smiling and nodding at Colin and Cody who peered up at him as he rested an elbow on the counter. “Going to visit your auntie, are you?” he asked.

Alice felt the tingle of cold as if ice crystals formed beneath her skin. She drew one boy to each side and swallowed back her dread.

Alice lowered her chin. “Pardon?”

“Mr. Roach wrote their great-aunt.” His grin dissolved. Perhaps he now recognized from her seething expression or the boys’ wide-eyed stares that they had not been privy to this information.

Ben Asher’s aunt had died some years back of a stroke. Alice did recall that Ben had two uncles, also deceased. Another possibility struck.

“He said Chicago?”

The telegraph operator drew back from the counter, hesitating now.

Alice patted Colin’s back as he clung to her skirts. “Would the name of this relative be McCrery, Ella McCrery?”

“I—I’m not...”

She gave him a scowl, fearing she might need to shout and she hated to shout. She took a step toward the counter, hampered by the clinging children.

He swallowed and then nodded. “Believe that’s right, though he said Edna.”

Alice drew a breath, praying for calm as her stomach roiled. “To what question did Mr. Roach seek reply?”

The operator’s bushy brows rose high on his shiny forehead, but he answered the question. “Whether she could take the boys.”

“I see.”

She returned to the hotel with her charges, who both had to jog to keep pace.

“Miss Alice?” asked Cody. “What’s happening?”

“We have to go see your Uncle Dillen.”

“But the man said he doesn’t want us.”

She didn’t know what to say, for she feared Cody’s concerns were valid. She looked at these two perfect little boys and wondered how anyone in the world could not want them. Why, she’d give anything to raise them up as her own. She had always loved them, but now that Sylvia was gone, that love had taken root deep inside her.

Alice straightened her spine. She had been put off once too often to make excuses for Dillen. Clearly he was avoiding her and doing all in his power to pack the children off. Alice saw only two choices. She could return to Omaha with the children or she could try one last time to convince Dillen Roach to honor his sister’s final request.

“Hush, now, let me think.”

Alice forced the anger down. The boys both looked frightened half to death, as if she might just hand them to a stranger. She stilled as she realized that was what she had been preparing to do, for clearly she did not know Dillen any longer. The man she once knew would not shirk his responsibility or ignore his duty to his family.

At the front desk, Alice spoke to the manager.

“How could I arrange transport to the Harvey ranch?”

He gave Alice the directions to the livery and the name of the gentleman to see. “If you’ve never driven a wagon or sleigh, then hire a driver, as well. And don’t set out without a rifle, food and blankets or furs. If you break a runner, you could be stuck for some time.”

This bit of advice made Alice’s knees wobble, but she reminded herself of her mission. Plus a sleigh ride in the wilderness might be an excellent way to test her mettle.

One hour later, lunched and dressed in their warmest clothing, she and Colin sat in the second seat of a sleigh. Cody preferred to sit with the driver, Mr. Donald Miller, an aged livery hand with a round face, a high forehead and tufted gray hair peeking out from beneath a green knit cap. He held a pipe perpetually clamped between his teeth and his beard was cut in the manner of Puritans, so he reminded Alice of a New England whaling captain. Though the broken blood vessels on his nose and cheeks seemed to indicate that, unlike the Puritan he resembled, Mr. Miller indulged in spirits.

The wind whistled and the runners hissed as the horse trotted in a well-worn groove of packed snow. Despite the hot bricks and blankets, Alice’s toes were icy and her cheeks numb. She was saved from inquiring regarding the remaining distance by Cody, who asked the driver that exact question at regular intervals.

According to the last report they were already on the ranch, though it looked no different than the pine forest they had traversed for the past several miles since leaving the town of Blue River Junction. Colin spotted a wooden fence with even split wood planks nailed to upright posts. Alice craned her neck and was rewarded with a glimpse of the sloping peaked roof of a barn. They crested a rise and she realized that what she had assumed was the side of the barn was, in fact, the front. The barn was easily four times as large as she had first imagined. Alice’s gaze swept the unbroken expanse of snow that covered the open ground. Pastures, she realized, and beyond them, she spotted a long outbuilding squatting parallel to the barn, and on the top of the next rise the rustic yet expansive log ranch house.

This was not what Alice had expected, but still bore proof that Dillen had managed to achieve his ambitions alone. She closed her eyes at the evidence of his success.

He was not a veterinarian, as he had wished, but owned property and livestock. Alice lifted her head and stared. She was looking at the home he had carved out for himself in a mere two years. A home suitable for a family—perfect, in fact. He clearly had the means to support a wife. And if the curl of blue smoke coming from the chimney of the bunkhouse was any indication, he had hired hands, as well.

If she had not committed a lie of omission when she’d repeatedly failed to tell him who she actually was, would he have stayed? Was it the lie or her that he could not abide?

Alice settled back in her seat feeling suddenly so ill she feared she might lose the little lunch she had managed.

“Here we are,” called Miller. “Shall I wait?”

“Yes, most certainly. Please take us to the house.”

“Don’t see no smoke,” said Mr. Miller as he complied.

Alice had to grasp Colin, who seemed to be preparing to leap from the moving sleigh. The instant the horse stopped, Cody was on the long covered porch, his boot heels tapping like a woodpecker on a tree as he charged for the front door. Alice hurried after him, gripping Colin’s wrist as he tried to catch up with his older brother.

“Wait up,” cried Colin.

“I want to see the horses,” called Cody, already lifting his hand to pound on the front door as he sang out, “Uncle Dillen! We’ve come a-calling!”

Around the side of the building came a lanky older man with a limp. He peered at them with vivid blue eyes and skin as brown and furrowed as a peach pit. His gaunt face was balanced by a thick gray-and-white mustache and his jaw was covered with stubble.

“Can I help you folks?”

“Yes, sir. We would like to see the owner,” said Alice.

“Oh, well, I’m Bill Roberts, the foreman. Maybe I can help.”

“I’d prefer to speak to the owner.”

Roberts pushed back the brim of his battered cowboy hat and wiped his forehead with a gloved hand. “Well, he ain’t here. Won’t be up this way again until summer.”

Her heart sank at this bit of news. Had Dillen left her and the boys behind without a backward glance? “Are you saying that Mr. Roach has relocated?”

“Roach? Oh, no, ma’am. He’s here. You must be Miss Truett? He’s mentioned you.” Roberts extended his hand and Alice clasped it briefly. “He’s in the barn with the horses.”

“I’d like to see him, please.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll fetch him. Let me just get you and the young’uns inside.” He proceeded to bring them into the entrance hall and then to a grand open living area that stretched up two floors and had a fieldstone fireplace with kindling and logs set out for a fire. The room was freezing, and Alice could see her own breath. If possible, it seemed colder inside than out. The room was filled with the work of a taxidermist, and the furniture was shrouded with white sheets to keep off dust. This was no way for a man to live, even if he was a bachelor.

From the walls, dead animals stared blankly as Roberts labored at the hearth a few moments with hands swollen with rheumatism. Alice worried he was not up to the task. She considered offering assistance but feared insulting the man, so she drew the boys in tight, wrapping them between the coat and her body as they all watched and shivered in the cold. At long last he succeeded in striking a match and the flames caught, curling over the dry wood.

“Should warm up directly.” He tipped his hat and limped off toward the entrance. A moment later the door clicked shut.

“Look at the moose head!” said Cody, pointing at the trophy above the mantel.

Alice frowned. Had Dillen shot that poor creature or paid good money for a stuffed head?

“And there’s a bearskin rug,” said Cody, now dancing from one wonder to another. He petted the mountain-goat hide draped on the sofa and knelt to peek under the sheet at the chair fashioned from brown-and-white cowhide and bull horns. Finally he marveled at the chandelier, which was a rustic combination of elk horns and lanterns.

Dillen had all this and still he felt he could not provide a home for these two orphaned boys? The man should be ashamed. The room heated Alice’s blood. She had not come seeking a fight, merely some explanation. But her purpose had changed.

Dillen appeared a few moments later smelling of horse and sweat. Even disheveled and flushed, his mere appearance caused her pulse to pound and her heart to race as if she were the one who had just run here from the barn. She stood stupefied as his eyes met hers. For just a moment she forgot why she had come and what she was doing here. Then he looked at the boys and his brow furrowed in obvious displeasure. Cody dropped the front paw of the bearskin rug and straightened as Colin inched closer to her. In that instant, she recalled her mission.

Dillen’s generous mouth went tight. He looked less than pleased to see them. It was a new experience for her. Of all the emotions she had secretly hoped her arrival in Blue River Junction would elicit from this man, ire was not among them. In that instant she knew that she should never have come to the ranch. He had made it clear how he felt, and he had explained about the mix-up over the telegrams. He had further asked her to wait and she had, but... Alice’s heart sank. She had every reason to believe that he had forgotten her once more. She knew she was forgettable. Alice was too timid to be memorable. It was only her father’s acclaim and her mother’s money that made her attractive to some. If it were not for Sylvia’s boys, she most certainly would have boarded the very next train and departed, tail between her legs. Still, she had hoped that absence had made the heart grow fonder.

Clearly it had not.

“Alice, what in blue blazes? I asked you to wait in town.”

“Yes, I know. And we have. But you sent no word.”

“So you come all the way out here in the dead of winter? It’s dangerous. Alice, why?”

Because I feared you had forgotten me again. Because I am a fool. She said none of this, of course. Instead she ushered the two boys toward the fireplace with a gentle hand on each one’s small back, and then retreated to the far side of the room. He followed. She slid one arm into each of the opposite sleeves of the mink as she hugged herself and faced him.

When she spoke her voice was low, for she did not want the boys to hear. “I am sorry to interrupt your work. Certainly it must be difficult to run such a large ranch. But you told me that you have no place suitable for the boys and yet...”

He moved closer. He smelled of the horses and she saw the short dark horsehair that clung to his sheepskin jacket and gloves.

“Yet?” he asked.

“I see you have a large house and the means to care for them here.”

Dillen’s brow lowered over his dark eyes and his gaze shifted to take in the room before returning to her. He set his teeth together with a snap and Alice hugged herself more closely. The mink ruff brushed her cheeks.

“Are you seeking a housekeeper, perhaps? Is that the delay? Someone to look after the boys while you work?”

“They can’t stay here,” he said, and glanced to the door as if anxious to see her back.

“It seems a perfectly suitable environment to raise two boys.”

“No,” he said, with no further explanation.

Her stomach roiled now, and she was quite anxious to leave. But she remembered her promise.

“Mr. Roach, I am aware that you have written to a relative of your sister’s husband. I fear that you are, therefore, unwilling to acquiesce to your sister’s wishes. I could help you obtain a housekeeper to see to them so they are not underfoot.”

“No,” he said, glaring now.

She fumed, lowering her chin and matching his cold stare. “Mr. Roach, is it your intention, then, to ignore your sister’s dying request?”

“They can’t stay here.”

“And why not?”

“It’s not my house.”

Chapter Five

There. He’d said it. Dillen had told her the truth and then watched the shock take her back a step as her mouth dropped open in surprise.

“Not yours?” Alice echoed.

“I don’t own it. I never said that I did own it. I’m a hired hand working under Bill Roberts for Alan Harvey. Harvey is the owner. He’s a banker. Works in Denver and only comes up here in the summer to enjoy the mountains. All this is a second home. Can you believe that? Calls it his mountain retreat.”

“But I thought...” Her words trailed off.

“No. Not mine. That’s why they can’t stay. I don’t have permission to have children here, and even if I got it, I’ll not have them living in a bunkhouse, eating beans and bacon. No school out here and no other kids, just work—hard work.”

“I see.” Alice slipped her arms from her sleeves and extended one hand to him, clasping his wrist. “I’ve misjudged you.”

Yes, he knew she had. He didn’t know which was worse, having her think he didn’t want his own kin or having her realize he was unable to care for them.

“I’m sorry, Alice. I’m no further ahead than when I left you. I just can’t seem to get a foothold.”

“I’m sure it must be difficult, all on your own.”

Difficult didn’t begin to cover it. But he had his pride and would not detail his various financial failures.

“You know, my father was the son of a brewer. He comes from simple roots.”

What he knew was that her father was one of the most accomplished and sought-after physicians in Omaha.

“When my mother chose my father, my grandfather was less than pleased with her selection. You see, my father didn’t have his license then, just ambitions and intelligence. But she knew what he could become, and she married him against their wishes. It was only after my brother was born that my grandfather relented, paying for my father’s schooling. After my father passed the boards, my mother brought him his first patients. You see?”

Dillen had a hard time thinking when she touched him, but he could not understand what the devil she was talking about.

“I don’t follow.”

“I’m just saying that sometimes a man needs help to establish that foothold.”

His expression went sour.

“There is no shame in asking for help.”

“There is nothing but shame in it. You don’t know me at all.” He stared at her wide-eyed confusion. How could he make her understand? “I don’t take handouts.”

Alice felt his arm tense and slid her hand down until she clasped his.

“But we are not discussing you. We are discussing what is best for the boys. Perhaps you could wire Mr. Harvey and explain the changes in your domestic responsibilities. He might very well let you occupy this house until he returns.”

Dillen chewed on that for a moment. A rich woman would think nothing of such a request. But Mr. Harvey was his employer, not his friend or his social equal. But Harvey was also a father. He might allow it, and Dillen could assure him that he’d take the best of care of this place and secure a new arrangement for his family, God knew what, before his boss’s arrival. He let the possibility glimmer before him like moonlight on calm waters before the problems rushed in.

“Do it for their sakes, Dillen,” she whispered, and his pride melted away. He glanced to the boys, standing side by side, hands clasped, staring up at the buffalo head mounted above the mantel. He looked to Alice, dropping his voice.

“Even if he went for that, I can’t watch over them. I got work and they need tending.”

“So your trouble is not a lack of wanting these boys, but a fear that you are not up to the task?”

He stared at her as he wrestled with the truth. “I want them.”

Alice smiled. “This is a great relief to me.”

“A relief? How do you figure?”

“Well, for a time there, I feared you did not want them and that you were avoiding us.”

“Amounts to the same thing.”

“Would you be willing to ask Mr. Harvey’s permission?”

“Alice...the boys are young. Wanting them isn’t enough. They need a mother.”

Her eyes twinkled in a way that he recalled, and he found himself staring at her mouth again.

“If it would be of assistance, I could stay for a few weeks, help you and the boys adjust to a new situation. But I must be home with my family for Christmas Eve.”

Dillen drew back his hand and shoved it in his pocket. “No.”

She gave an exasperated sigh and flapped her arms. “Why not?”

He gave a harsh laugh and met her narrowing green eyes. Still, he told her the truth.

“Alice, you can’t run a household.”

“And why, pray tell, would you reach that conclusion?”

He knew he should hold back, but he didn’t, just charged ahead like the damned fool he was. “You’ve been pampered and coddled your whole life. You’ve never rubbed your knuckles raw on a washboard. Why, you don’t know the first thing about raising two boys.”

“I seemed to have managed until now.”

“I’m not talking about ordering room service or tucking up at a table when you are called to tea. I’m talking about real work. The kind you’ve never done. You walk around in that armor.” He motioned to her mink coat and hat and the elegant dress he glimpsed beneath. “You wear gold rings on your fingers and tortoise combs in your hair. What do you know about work?”

“I know how to run a household, Mr. Roach.”

“You know how to manage a household, not run one. There are no servants here.”

“As I am quite aware.” Her face was now flushed and her eyes glimmered as she took up the challenge. She actually raised her voice, remembered herself and lowered it to a rasping whisper, which made him straighten up and take notice. “I may lack experience, but I am here and offering you aid. If you won’t allow me to help you, then please consider what is best for them.” She motioned to Colin and Cody, both now studying the stuffed head of a pronghorn antelope mounted between the front windows.

Dillen followed the direction of her gaze and felt his conviction waver. “I can see to these boys and run this house,” she assured.

“It won’t work,” he said, but his words now lacked conviction.

She stared at him, taking his measure and, no doubt, finding him lacking. “You won’t know unless you try. I can stay here for three weeks. That will give you time to become acquainted, time for them to become familiar with you and time for you to see if this will work or if they would be better off elsewhere.”

He met the accusation in her gaze. “Aunt Alma, for instance?”

She blew out her breath like a dragon spewing fire. “Ben’s only living relation is the sister-in-law of his grandfather and her name is Ella McCrery. Ella. I discussed this with your sister, and Sylvia was of the opinion that her age—she is in her eighties—precluded her from taking on such a responsibility. You were not her only choice, Dillen, but you were her best choice. Like it or not, you now have custody of Sylvia’s children and must do what you see fit. Either way, I will have delivered them to you. That ends my duty to my dearest friend. My offer is not for her sake or for yours, but for the boys.” She tugged her gloves on more securely. “So, Mr. Roach, will you accept my help or will you not?”

The silence in the room stretched and yawned. Dillen scrubbed his face with both hands and then spoke. “I’ll wire Harvey and ask if you three can stay in the ranch house until Christmas.”

Her expression held such joy and pride that he swallowed back his trepidation as Alice launched forward into his arms.

“Oh, Mr. Roach. Thank God!”

She squeezed him so tight that he felt the soft curve of her breasts pressed to him and the ridged sheath of her corset against his middle. He didn’t know how it happened because one minute she was holding his face in both her gloved hands and the next his arms were about her and he was bending her backward over his arm as he kissed her full on the mouth. She gave a startled cry, which parted her lips and he took advantage again. His body burned as her arms went about his neck and she strained to deepen the kiss. Their tongues danced and she gave a low moan that ripped through him like a spear point. His body grew hot and hard, ready for this woman he could never forget.

He glanced, with his mouth still on Alice’s, to judge the distance to the sofa and met the stares of both Colin and Cody. Their mouths gaped and they stood as if witnessing a murder instead of a kiss. Dillen drew back.

“Yuck,” said Cody, wiping his own mouth as if he’d been kissed.

Colin repeated his brother’s words, “Yeah, yuck.”

Alice blinked up at Dillen, a lazy, satisfied smile curling her full lips. She still had one hand looped around his neck and used it to pull him closer. He set her aside and steadied her with a hand at the small of her back, feeling the soft fur of the mink. She swayed as if drunk.

She grinned at him and then turned to glance at the boys. Her eyes popped wide-open and her face flushed bright pink.

“Oh, my,” she stammered. “I...” She glanced at him and then back to the children. “I... We had better be getting back. Say goodbye to your uncle, children.”

Colin skipped forward and lifted his arms. Dillen glanced to Alice.

“He wants you to pick him up.”

“Yeah?” he said and then slid one hand under each armpit and hoisted the child up to eye level. Why, he weighed less than a sack of grain. “What’s on your mind, big man?”

Colin leaned forward and planted a kiss on Dillen’s cheek, making a popping sound on contact.

“That’s the way you’re supposta kiss.”

Dillen felt an unfamiliar squeezing sensation in his chest, as if someone had hold of his heart.

“That right?”

Dillen nodded. He set Colin’s feet on the floor and the boy skipped back to Alice’s side. Cody sidled forward with more caution, reminding Dillen of a curious but skittish horse.

Dillen dropped to one knee. “Sorry about the kissing.”

Cody made a face.

“You take care of Miss Truett until I come to fetch you.”

Cody accepted this responsibility with a nod. “Do I have to kiss you?”

“Naw. Handshake.” Dillen extended his hand and Cody seemed relieved to take it.

He watched Cody walk to Alice’s side and felt that same ache only this time his gut twisted with his heart. He stared at the threesome, wanting something but uncertain what it was.

“Will you send the telegram to Harvey if I write it out?” he asked.

She agreed and waited while he found paper and wrote to his employer. The man seemed a reasonable sort, but letting his new hand move his family into the boss’s house seemed an unlikely outcome.

His family? He stilled and glanced back to Alice. Dillen’s chest tightened. He wanted her to stay. He knew his desires didn’t mean staying was best for the boys. Lingering at the ranch would just postpone the inevitable day when she reached the conclusion that he was not father material and that she couldn’t run a household. But if he could put off that moment, keep her here with him a little longer, then he was willing to let her send the damned wire.

Chapter Six

Alice spent the ride home mulling over the meaning of Dillen’s kiss and her wild and unladylike reaction. If he had no feelings for her, why would he kiss her with such abandon? It confused her while simultaneously sparking new hope. Finally both the wintery chill and distance cooled her ardor and she took hold of herself. She wasn’t going to allow him to hurt her again, was she?

Despite her trepidation, she did send the telegram to Dillen’s employer immediately upon return to town and added one of her own, explaining who she was, who her father was and who her maternal grandfather was. Since her grandfather owned a sizable stake in the railroad and his name appeared often in the newspapers, she thought Mr. Harvey might recognize the name and this might help Dillen’s cause.

She did not wait for Mr. Harvey’s reply, as it was already past dark and she and the boys were wilting from hunger.

They went back to the hotel for a hearty meal, but worries dampened her appetite. She sipped her tea as she turned the problem over in her mind. Despite her bravado, Alice had little practical experience cleaning, though she was an excellent cook. To fill the gaps in skill, she had a secret weapon. Before her journey here, she had purchased a copy of Mrs. Beeton’s Book of Household Management and had pored over the tome at every opportunity.

Still, reading was not doing and this troubled her.

Dillen’s words played again in her mind. You don’t know the first thing about raising two boys.

She didn’t.

The next morning, Alice woke with a headache, but managed to get the boys dressed and breakfasted before setting off for services in a drafty unfamiliar church. She missed the Latin, but thought it better that the boys understood what was said and hoped they took some comfort in knowing their parents were safe in God’s hands.

After services, she was approached by Mrs. Louise Pellet, who was the niece of Mr. Harvey’s foreman, Bill Roberts. Louise Pellet was sturdy and curvy with clean clothing of a simple style, and she wore her hair drawn up in a no-nonsense bun. The woman’s demeanor shouted practicality, and her expression showed the clear-eyed gaze of intelligence. She was expecting Dillen and her uncle for Sunday supper and invited Alice and the boys to join them at her boardinghouse. Alice was happy to accept, and they walked together through the town, Mrs. Pellet’s boys quickly befriending Cody and Colin.

Once at her home, Louise ushered them into the parlor, but before Alice even had the boys out of their coats, Mrs. Pellet’s four younger children tumbled in, asking if Colin and Cody would like to see their snow fort behind the house. Alice admired Mrs. Pellet’s natural, no-nonsense style with her children as she sent them off with coats buttoned and mittens on. Her hostess had an innate warmth so absent in Alice’s own mother. Mrs. Pellet turned and caught Alice staring.

“Something wrong?” asked her hostess.

“You seem so confident with them.”

“The children?” She laughed. “I remember when my first was born. Lord have mercy. I was so scared I’d do something wrong. And I did, of course. Live and learn. But she came out all right. Isn’t that right, Lizzy?”

Behind them came the clatter of silverware as a young woman set the table in the adjacent dining room. She stepped into the doorway and introductions were made.

Mrs. Pellet smiled proudly. “Could run the place herself. Her husband will be a lucky man. This one doesn’t want to sit in church with me anymore. Not when she can sit with her intended.”

Lizzy flushed and then returned to her work.

“So, Mrs. Truett, any word from Mr. Harvey?” asked Mrs. Pellet.

Alice took a moment to recover from her shock. She had no idea how Mrs. Pellet knew this, but was impressed, as she had only sent the wire last evening.

“Ah, it’s Miss Truett,” she corrected. “And no, I’m afraid the offices are closed today.”

“Oh, but I have a special connection.” She turned to Lizzy. “Isn’t that right, my girl?” Louise Pellet beamed at Alice. “Tommy is one of the operators. That’s Lizzy’s beau.”

And that explained that.

“Yes, well, I’ll be seeing to the boys’ care in the short term.”

“So you’ll stay through the winter?” asked Mrs. Pellet.

“No, unfortunately, I’ll be returning to my family for the holidays.”

“Oh, that’s a shame. I’m sure the boys will miss you. When will you be back?”

“Well, I’m not certain,” said Alice. “My responsibility was only to bring the boys to their uncle.”

“You’ve gone a sight farther than that. Offering to see them situated. But have you thought what will happen after you make those three a home and then disappear?”

Alice felt her breathing catch. “I have no claim on them, nor has Mr. Roach asked for my assistance past the holidays.”

“Is that so? So you two never...” She let her words trail off. Mrs. Pellet was a very perceptive woman.

Alice felt her face heat. “Well, we did see each other, but that was some time ago.”

“And his sister sent you out here, to him.”

“To bring her boys to him, yes.”

Mrs. Pellet’s smile was knowing. “Might be mistaken. Would explain why he works so hard, though.”

Alice shook her head in bafflement. “I don’t follow.”

“Uncle Bill told me that Dillen seemed real focused on earning money. Won’t say why. He thought Dillen owed a debt, but now I’m thinking that reason is you. Wouldn’t be the first time a man was intimidated by a gal’s fortune.”

“I wouldn’t intimidate anyone.” But his words ricocheted in her mind. You don’t understand me at all.

Mrs. Pellet snorted. “Dillen is a working man. You wear a diamond brooch.” She pointed to the cameo at Alice’s collar. “You’ve got fine clothes, a fine vocabulary and a sort of carriage that might make you a little difficult for some men to approach.”

“Difficult? In what way?”

Mrs. Pellet ignored her question. “Still, you surely love those boys. That’s plain. Plus, you brung them all the way out here. That’s gotta count for something.”

Alice continued to stare at the spotless carpet, thinking of what he’d said before leaving her behind. It would not work between us. No future. Those words collided with the ones he had spoken to her only days ago. Alice twisted the lace that protruded beyond her fawn-colored cashmere bodice.

“He kissed me at the ranch,” she said, touching her fingers to her bottom lip.

Mrs. Pellet’s brow lifted. “That so? Suppose he wants you but just can’t figure how to make that happen. Maybe you can think of something. Those little boys sure need a mother. And likely he can’t picture you keeping house.”

“He already alluded to that. Laughed, actually.”

A smile flickered on the landlady’s lips, but she tamed it and met Alice’s earnest stare. “No, Miss Truett, you sure are not cut from broadcloth. Satin and lace, real French lace, maybe.”

“And why should my attire be of concern?”

“Roach is an ordinary man. A good man, and that’s rare enough, but he’s ordinary in his roots.” Mrs. Pellet lifted one eyebrow at her in speculation. “If you want him to see you as ordinary, you got to act ordinary.”

“How?”

“Start with that hairstyle and your fancy clothes. Stop using words like alluded and attire.”

“I see.”

“You want him to forget you’re a lady? See you as a wife? Then you’ve got to show him you can tend those boys. And that underneath all those petticoats you’re a flesh-and-blood woman.”

* * *

Dillen looked surprised to see Alice seated at Mrs. Pellet’s table. Would he have come to see her and the boys if they were not invited to share Sunday supper?

She felt a new tension between them as they took their places at the table. Dillen seemed distracted. Had he also lost sleep over his decision to ask his employer if she and the boys could stay on his property?

She straightened as something occurred to her. Could Mr. Harvey dismiss Dillen over such a thing?

Mrs. Pellet had seated Alice beside Dillen, something that would never have occurred at her mother’s table. Cody also sat next to Dillen, who helped him carve up his ham. Did Dillen realize he had the same easy confidence with the boys as Mrs. Pellet had with hers? Colin sat to Alice’s right and only spilled his milk once and was not the only child to do so, much to her relief.

The table was so crowded and the exchanges so lively that Alice had trouble following the discussions. She’d never seen such a raucous, happy family. The quiet conversation of her own family’s dinners quite paled by comparison. Alice thought of returning to their table and of all the years and years of sitting in that quiet room. It frightened her more than any challenge she might face at the ranch. She could do this, because the alternative was returning to her parents’ home permanently.

She had to remind herself that Dillen had only agreed to let her stay for the boys’ sake, not for his.

In all the commotion, no one noticed when Dillen’s leg lolled against hers. She straightened, and then remembered Mrs. Pellet’s words. Make him see her as an ordinary woman. But how did she do that? She glanced across the table at Lizzy and Tommy, seeing them holding hands. Alice moved her hand from her napkin and reached until her fingers brushed Dillen’s muscular thigh. This time it was Dillen who straightened. Then he turned to her and smiled, but his eyes blazed with heat. A moment later his hand covered hers.

The boys remembered their manners and thanked their hostess before their departure. Dillen helped Alice on with her fur coat and walked them to the hotel. There he hesitated outside the entrance. Was he thinking of kissing her good-night?

Oh, she hoped so.

Alice glanced nervously about and then saw the boys shifting from side to side, anxious no doubt to be out of the cold.

“I hope we hear one way or the other real soon,” he said. Then he touched the brim of his hat and turned to go. Alice had to resist the urge to call after him.

Instead she took the boys inside and retreated to their hotel room. That night, when she lay in bed, her head filled with possible ways to get Dillen to recognize her as capable and also approachable. Mrs. Pellet said to show Dillen that beneath her petticoats she was a flesh-and-blood woman. Did Mrs. Pellet mean what Alice thought she meant? She flushed at the possibility and felt a nervous, gnawing worry that if she made some advance, Dillen might rebuff her soundly. But then she recalled his hand covering hers. It gave her hope.

If she could show him that she could see to the boys and live a simpler life, would that make him want her again?

On Monday, Lizzy found Alice and the boys at breakfast and told her that her Tommy had set off for the ranch to deliver Mr. Harvey’s answer to Dillen’s wire.

“He said yes.” She beamed and clapped her hands.

Alice now had the experience of getting what she wanted and being frightened half to death. Could she do it? Could she care for them all on her own out there in the wilderness?

What if they got hurt or sick?

She glanced at the boys, who looked to her with anxious expressions. She plastered a confident smile on her lips and nodded.

“Well, that is very good news, Lizzy. Thank you for the information.”

After breakfast, Alice went to Mrs. Pellet to seek advice on supplies and spent the following two days obtaining what she lacked in the way of foodstuffs and made several adjustments in her wardrobe, leaving much behind at Mrs. Pellet’s and supplementing her existing attire with several necessities that were lacking.

She planned to set out on Wednesday, but the sleigh was too small, so Alice had to hire a wagon, which then had to be set on runners to carry her, the boys and her supplies out to the ranch house. She suffered the delay by making some arrangements with the bank to hold her valuables. Just after lunch on Thursday, they were finally on their way.

They set out under crystal-blue skies. Several inches of new white powder had fallen overnight and the world looked brilliant and the air snapped with freshness as they left town. The boys began the journey tucked beneath a blanket in the back, but were too excited to stay put, and to keep them from mischief she entertained them with Christmas carols, singing the ones they knew and teaching them some they did not. Even Mr. Gulliver, their driver, joined along, his voice a wobbly baritone that occasionally strayed from the tune.

The horses trotted along, adding the jingle of sleigh bells to the music, and it was no wonder that both Dillen and Mr. Roberts were waiting for them as they drew into the yard.

The boys tumbled out first, and Dillen came forward to offer her a hand.

“No furs?” he asked.

She bounced down before him. Alice had exchanged her furs for a woolen shawl and wore a simple woolen bodice and skirts with no hoops or bustle whatsoever. Her jewelry remained behind in a bank safe. She felt lighter, freer, and she beamed her happiness at seeing Dillen again.

“We heard that you received a wire,” she said.

Dillen glanced in the wagon and then back to her. “That Tommy is going to get himself fired, yakking like a woman.”

“Perhaps so.”

Roberts limped forward, putting a hand on each of the children’s heads. “Boys, let’s get your gear unloaded.”

By midafternoon all her supplies and necessary possessions were stacked in the living room and Mr. Gulliver had left them. Dillen seemed glad to see her but somewhat reserved, rubbing his neck as he looked at the pile of gear. She feared she’d overwhelmed him again and shifted uncomfortably as she considered this latest misstep.

“I’ve got chores in the barn, getting those two horses trained, but I’ll be back in a bit to make you dinner.”

Make her dinner?

Mrs. Pellet was correct, Alice realized. He did not even think her capable of fixing a meal.

“What time will you be in?” she asked.

He glanced at the mantel clock, which read three in the afternoon.

“Around six, I think.”

“Would you like the boys’ help or would they be underfoot?”

Both Colin and Cody went totally still, and she could see them fairly vibrating with excitement and anticipation at the possibility of seeing the horses. They all knew Dillen’s reputation in town for being a fine horseman and were mad with desire to learn to ride.

Dillen hesitated and then glanced to Roberts, who nodded.

“They can come with me,” said Dillen. “Give you time to rest after the ride out here.”

Did he really think she would be going to her room for a nap? If he did, then he’d be wildly disappointed. Alice had used her time with Mrs. Pellet to good effect, recording some simpler recipes. But she still wasn’t sure how to prove she had desires like any other woman.

Alice threw back the shawl that had covered her head.

Dillen frowned as he studied her. “You look different.”

She smiled, wondering if it was the simpler chignon that he noticed, or her lack of jewelry. “Do I? I feel different. Perhaps it is the mountain air. It seems to agree with me.”

Dillen’s brow remained wrinkled as he nodded, and then shepherded the boys toward the front door.

“You rest now,” Dillen said.

She smiled as they headed out in the direction of the barn. The moment the latch clicked shut, she broke into a frenzy of motion, unpacking the boxes and setting up her kitchen before launching into meal preparation. Something quick, delicious and memorable. Something that would make Dillen Roach reconsider his opinion of Miss Alice Pinter Truett.

Chapter Seven

Dillen took the boys to the barn, wondering with each step if he’d just made the worst mistake of his life. He’d asked Mr. Harvey if his nephews could stay until after he got these horses trained and delivered. Even mentioned Alice and her willingness to help out until the holiday. He’d never expected his boss to say, Sure! Move the woman and kids into my personal residence. But Harvey had said yes and now Dillen was just stuck.

He had horses to train, a ranch to run, two boys underfoot and the temptation of Alice so close that he swore he could smell her perfume clear out here in the open. Dillen leaned forward and sniffed Colin’s collar, finding Alice’s scent. Had the boy spent some of the ride nestled up against Alice’s body? Dillen scowled.

“What?” asked Colin.

“Nothin’,” said Dillen.

At least he had one other option. Mr. Gulliver had delivered more than the boys, Alice and her gear today. He’d also delivered a reply to his wire.

Great-aunt Ethel had agreed to take his boys. But with Alice staying until Christmas, he could put off that decision until the holiday. He shoved the folded paper deep into his coat pocket. This was what he wanted, wasn’t it? What was best for the boys. They why did he feel so blue?

“Uncle Dillen?” said Cody.

Dillen forced a smile and rubbed his gloved hands together in anticipation.

“You two know anything about horses?”

His question met with silence.

“Riding?”

Cody’s eyes shifted and he looked uncomfortable. “I want to learn to ride.”

“That so?” Dillen scratched his head. He’d have to get in a training session with the twin ponies and then saddle up Dasher. If he didn’t have to cook dinner, too, he might manage. Steak and eggs, he decided. Fast and filling. “Follow me, boys.”

Once inside the barn, his nephews were surprisingly quiet and stayed out of the way as he led the two ponies from their stalls.

Dillen talked as he worked, showing the boys how to brush them and saddle them, pointing out the parts of the horse, describing the care of the horses’ hooves as he cleaned and inspected each leg.

The boys sat on the fence rail as he worked the two ponies round and round in the ring on lunge lines. Though the ring was snow covered, Dillen had added sand to the outer perimeter, and the ponies trotted, walked and turned on command. They did so well that he tried them with no line for the first time, using only the long whip to tap them when needed. As it happened, he didn’t need it as the pair already knew the verbal signals and could walk, stop, trot and turn on command.

When they returned to the barn, Dillen only had to remind the boys once to stay clear of the ponies’ hindquarters. He didn’t let them curry or brush the ponies. Just didn’t trust the green horses around his nephews. But when he brought out Dasher, he let the boys pet him and showed them how to feed a horse a sugar cube without losing a digit. Both Colin and Cody were brave, taking to Dasher like trout to a brook. Cody even managed to lift Dasher’s saddle, though Dillen couldn’t believe his eyes. The two boys seemed eager to please. It twisted Dillen’s heart.

There was so much of his sister in them. They had manners, smarts, and Colin seemed to have a sense of humor judging from his attempts to comb his hair with the currycomb and making his brother burst out laughing.

He took them each before him in turn as he walked and trotted with Dasher around the ring. At first they clung to the saddle horn, but soon they were moving with the saddle and holding on with their strong, short legs. He dismounted and set Cody behind Colin, then led Dasher around the circle.

“Did you know that this horse was in the circus?” He didn’t say that he had been, as he wasn’t especially proud of that nine months of his life. The promised fame and fortune had not materialized—or the fortune part had not, but that job had gotten him this position when Harvey had seen what he and Dasher could do.

“Really?” piped Colin. “Does he do tricks? Can he walk on his hind legs?”

“Sure. Want to see?”

Cody looked concerned, and Dillen realized he thought his uncle meant with the two of them mounted up. Cody did not object. But he did wrap his arms about his little brother and grip the saddle horn with both hands.

“Yes!” shouted Colin.

Dasher’s ears twitched and he turned one to listen to the new, tiny riders. Still, his mount was calm and acted the perfect gentleman.

Dillen pulled the boys down and set them on the fence rail. Then he began some of his act. Dasher should have been out of practice, but he picked up the routine in midperformance as if they had never stopped entertaining. Dasher stole Dillen’s hat and tossed it on the ground, stealing it again as Dillen reached to retrieve it. Then he placed it roughly on his master’s head. The boys roared with laughter. His foreman, Bill Roberts, limped over and leaned against the rails, talking to the boys as Dasher trotted away with Dillen seeming to be chasing his errant horse. When the horse made an abrupt rehearsed stop, Dillen ran into Dasher’s hindquarters. Then he put a foot in the stirrup the wrong way and mounted up backward on his horse’s withers just before the saddle. Dillen turned toward the front and Dasher took him around at a trot, then stopped and lowered his head so Dillen slid down his neck to the ground. From there they changed from opponents to a well-oiled machine, with Dasher keeping up a steady trot as Dillen mounted and dismounted using the frozen ground to vault back up from each side of the saddle. The light was fading when he dismounted and had the horse walk a few steps on his hind legs. Finally, he motioned for Dasher to drop down on one foreleg to take a bow. The boys clapped and Roberts whistled.

Cody’s exuberance bubbled over. “I want to be just like you when I grow up, Uncle Dillen!”

“No, you don’t,” he said, a little too gruffly, he realized, judging from his nephew’s quivering chin. “You could do a lot better than me.”

Back in the barn, he let Cody remove Dasher’s bridle and saddle blanket. Roberts smiled at the boys and then at Dillen.

“That was some fine, fancy riding,” said his foreman. Then to the boys he said, “Nice to have you two here. My boys are all raised up and off on their own.”

Dillen hadn’t realized Bill had children.

Both boys brushed as much of the horse as they could reach, and Dasher stood like a benign giant.

“He’s the smartest horse in the world!” said Colin.

“It’s training, isn’t it?” said Cody. “You use hand signals.”

Dillen nodded, pleased at Cody’s observations. “For some of it. Some parts he’s just got memorized. Good horse, Dasher.” Dillen patted his mount’s shoulder. It was full dark when the four of them headed to the house. He thought he heard Colin’s stomach growling.

Dillen hoped that Alice had entertained herself. They didn’t have books or a piano. She was likely bored already. He glanced at the chimney, relieved to see that she’d managed to keep the fire going.

When he opened the door he smelled food and his mouth started to water. His first thought was that she’d hired a cook, but surely he’d have seen the arrival of a wagon.

“Hello, the house,” called Bill. “Something sure smells good.”

Alice appeared from the dining room, her cheeks flushed. She wore a plain sage-green dress with no bustle or doodads. It was simpler even than the black skirts and bodice she wore when accompanying her father on house calls. Everything about her seemed more relaxed. Wisps of fine brown hair had escaped their moorings, cascading down the sides of her face, making her look young and healthy and so tempting. Dillen had to fix his feet to keep from dragging her up against him.

“Wash up, boys,” she said to Colin and Cody. “The sink is in the kitchen.”

“What smells so good?” asked Bill, limping by Alice on his way past the boys.

“Beef in a red wine sauce over egg noodles,” said Alice.

Dillen stared at her in fascination, as if seeing her for the very first time.

“Where’d you get supper?” he asked.

She laughed and stroked his cheek. The sparkle in her green eyes, the curling of her lips and the warmth of her fingers trailing over his cold skin worked like a magnet to metal shavings. He actually bucked forward, drawn in as she spoke.

“I made it, silly.” She turned and headed through the empty dining room toward the kitchen. “You smell like horse, Dillen. Soap is on the sink.”

He trailed after her exactly like Dasher had followed him around the ring, but unlike Dasher, Dillen was interested in much more than a pat on the chest and a bucket of grain. After supervising their washing up, Alice directed them to sit at the large kitchen table and served them the best meal Dillen had ever eaten. That included the one-dollar steak he’d had at that fancy hotel in Dodge City the fall he’d worked a cattle drive.

She’d even managed a bread pudding for dessert that was riddled with streaks of brown sugar and plump raisins.

“That sure was a fine meal, Miss Truett,” said Bill Roberts. “So happy you could come and stay awhile.”

“Thank you, Mr. Roberts. Would you care for more coffee?”

He lifted his cup and she poured. She seemed content and comfortable in this kitchen, thought Dillen, as if she belonged here. It was an adjustment for him, seeing her out of her glittery bangles. She reminded him of the woman he’d first met, the one that was a lie, or was it? She actually seemed more at ease now than in her fancy duds. Maybe the elegant, wealthy woman was the lie.

Ridiculous—wasn’t it? He knew she was kind, educated, refined. He knew from seeing her work as her father’s assistant that she was not squeamish and that they shared a love for animals, riding and music, and that she could sing like an angel. Still, she seemed suddenly a stranger and at the same time more approachable.

“Dillen, are you all right?”

He snapped out of his woolgathering. Alice Truett had a bright future and could likely do far better than his mangy hide. Why hadn’t she?

Stop it, he admonished. She was here to do a friend a favor because she was a fine Christian woman. Not because she wanted him. His mind flicked back to that kiss. Maybe she did want him. But that only showed one tiny blind spot in her good judgment. He’d be a scoundrel to take advantage of her.

“Dillen, is there anything else I can offer you?”

There sure the hell was, but he couldn’t say it out loud.

“Nothing. Thanks,” he managed. “Fine meal, that.”

She beamed. “Thank you.”

Gosh, she was a beauty, especially when she smiled.

Roberts rose. “Let’s go tuck in by that hearth. Dillen, go get your fiddle.”

“Oh, no. Alice doesn’t want to hear my fiddling.”

She pressed her hands together. “Yes, I do. Bring it, please.”

He left her to go get his father’s fiddle, and when he returned, Roberts was smoking by the fire, telling the boys about an Indian attack that had happened years ago, though whether in Bill’s memory or his imagination was unclear. Alice was nowhere to be seen.

“Alice?” he asked, laying his fiddle on the mantel.

Bill thumbed toward the back of the house. “Chased us out of her kitchen.”

Dillen headed through the dining room and found Alice drying the last of the dishes.

“Need a hand?” he asked.

She startled and then smiled, returning the plates to the cupboards. “All finished.”

He approached, seeming unable to keep his distance from this woman. “I didn’t know you could cook.”

“I’d imagine there are many things you don’t know about me.” She reached behind her back and untied her apron, ducking out of the collar and setting it aside before brushing off her skirts.

“I’ve never seen you in a dress like that before,” he said.

“It’s new.”

He frowned. Of course it was. Likely she bought it, perhaps an entire wardrobe for her little rustic adventure.

Alice’s brow knit as if she recognized the misstep. “Do you like it?” She lifted the skirts and turned this way and that. Here was the Alice he recalled. Charming, bubbly and full of unreasonable optimism where he was concerned. She’d overestimated everything about him, especially his prospects.

“Yes,” he said truthfully, stepping in, looping an arm behind her back even as he told himself to leave her be.

She rested her hands on his chest and smiled up at him. For just a moment he pretended that she was his, that those boys were their children and she was a mother instead of a lady of means.

“Thank you for taking such good care of them,” he whispered.

“You’re welcome.” Her hand lifted and stroked the rough stubble at his jaw. She cast him a winning smile. “I saw your performance. You are a trick rider!”

He stiffened. “How?”

She motioned toward the window above the sink. The world beyond was now dark, but he realized she would have a fine view of the riding ring from here. The fact that she’d seen his shenanigans did not please him.

He did not share her delight. Rather he felt a wash of shame. A man might have to dig ditches for a living or dress like a clown to put food on the table, but it didn’t make him proud.

Dillen released Alice and stepped away. “I did a stint with the circus.”

“Really?” She still seemed fascinated, but her smile now looked brittle.

“Yeah.” He rubbed his neck. “Want to...” He motioned his head toward the living room.

“Oh, yes.”

For the next hour, Dillen played and Alice sang. Bill even sang a tune or two and the boys joined in on anything they knew. It was a magical evening. But afterward Dillen forced himself to remember that despite her wardrobe change, Alice was still a lady and he was still a saddle tramp.

Chapter Eight

Alice rose from her chair and eyed the boys, who correctly judged her intent and groaned in unison.

“Bedtime,” she said. The house had running water in the kitchen, but the privy was out back and she saw no chamber pots under the beds. “Privy first,” she said, gathering the boys’ coats.

“I want Uncle Dillen to take us,” said Cody.

He absorbed this news with a tiny snort. Then he laid aside his fiddle and drew on his coat. He headed out the door with a lantern, Cody over one shoulder and Colin over the other. Both boys were shrieking as they vanished into the curtain of snow.

Alice drew her shawl about her and realized the snow was coming down hard now. Dillen had to plow his way across the yard. When they reappeared, she took her turn and when she reached the relative warmth of the kitchen she shook the snow from her skirts.

Hands and faces were washed in the large sink using the hot water from the reserve on the stove. Dillen banked the coals and Alice filled the water tank so there would be hot water in the morning.

Once back in the living room, Alice spoke to the boys.

“Say good-night to Mr. Roberts and thank him for his stories.”

They did, in chorus.

“Can I help you tuck them in?” asked Dillen.

She could not keep from smiling as she nodded her consent. Her throat chose that moment to constrict with emotion as she realized that he was beginning to act like a father.

They headed up the main stairs together. Bill sat closest to the fire, packing tobacco into his pipe.

“You mind?” he asked, lifting the pipe.

Alice shook her head. It wasn’t her house after all, but she appreciated the request.

Dillen gave the boys a piggyback up the stairs, and as a result they were too excited to lie down. They bounced on the beds before she finally got them settled.

At last, she had them kneeling beside their beds to say their prayers. Tonight they both asked God to bless not only their parents, Alice and Uncle Dillen, but also Mr. Roberts and Dasher. Alice saw Dillen drop his chin to his chest. She also heard him repeat amen along with the boys. They lifted their heads and looked to Dillen. He stood in silence for a moment and then gave a curt nod of approval. Alice released a breath.

“Colin, Cody, you settle down, ’cause I’m going to tell you how I met Alice.”

The promise worked like magic. Both boys nestled back into the feather pillows at the promise of a story and drew the covers up to their chins.

He told how their mother used to be a companion for an old woman who was ill and so she called the doctor a lot. She had met Alice, the doctor’s assistant. He related how they became friends. He explained the way Alice used to come to the house. She had cared for their grandmother when she’d gotten sick.

“We thought Alice was a nurse. We didn’t know she was a princess in disguise and that her grandfather was a king who owned half the railroad that carried them out there.”

Colin loved trains and removed his thumb from his mouth to sigh. “Gosh.”

“When your mother got married to your father, Alice was her maid of honor. I was the best man, so we danced at the wedding.” He glanced to Alice. “Remember?”

As if she could ever forget. It was the first time he’d ever held her in his arms. There had been many a night when she’d thought of that dance and the start of their relationship when the world was nothing but possibilities. Her mother had married a professional man, so Alice saw no obstacles between Dillen and her. After all, Dillen was the son of a banker with an acceptance to attend a university. She smiled at the memory. “You looked very dashing.”

“And Alice was as pretty as a rose,” he said to the boys. “Later, when you were born, Cody, Alice held you at the baptism. She and I are your godparents.”

“What about me?” asked Colin.

“Well, that was two years later.”

Two years, and everything had changed for Dillen and Sylvie. Their father had abandoned them under the cloud of scandal.

Dillen went on. “But yes, we stood up in that church for you, too.”

“And promised,” said Alice, “to see you both raised properly.”

Dillen gave her a long look and then nodded. “Yep. We sure did.”

“And that is what we shall do,” she whispered, stroking a hand over Colin’s feathery hair. His eyelids drooped now, but Cody struggled against sleep.

Dillen looked troubled again. Was he wondering where he and the boys would live? She wondered, too. She could offer help, but knew from her last attempts that Dillen was too proud to take her money. Would he take it for the boys’ sakes?

“Are we going to live here now?” he asked.

“For a while.”

“I like it here,” said Cody.

“Why’s that?” asked his uncle.

“’Cause it’s got chimneys. Lots of them.”

Dillen’s brow wrinkled and he cocked his head at the odd answer.

“Uncle Dillen, if we don’t have any chimneys, how will Santa find us?”

Dillen’s mouth went grim at this question.

Cody didn’t notice past the yawn. They had been through a full day, riding out here, spending much of the afternoon outside in the barn and then enjoying their musical evening. She looked to Colin, who was already puffing out steady breaths, his thick eyelashes brushing his cheeks. Alice felt the tightness in her chest every time she saw them sleeping. Was it longing or love? She didn’t know.

Alice just tucked Cody in tight and kissed his forehead. “He’ll find you here, lambkin.”

Cody sighed and closed his eyes.

Dillen stood, hands in the back pockets of his dungarees. Alice turned down the wick on the lantern but left the lamp on the table beside the bed.

Dillen followed her out into the hallway.

“Why did you tell them that?” he asked, his voice strained but still a whisper.

“What?”

“That Santa would come here. Alice, I don’t have money to buy them toys.”

“Then make them some.”

He thought about that for a moment. “I’ve never made a toy before.”

“But I know you can work wood. I saw the cradle you made for Cody. It was beautiful.”

Dillen rubbed his neck.

“Well, don’t fret. I bought them a few little toys and candies for their stockings. We’ll manage.”

His expression turned sad again. “Alice, you can’t keep buying them things. When you’re gone, it will be even harder on them.”

He said it as a fait accompli. She was going. But if he would only ask her, she’d stay forever.

“They are just a few little items.” She dropped her chin and stared at her hands, realizing they were scratched and nicked from all her work in the house.

“And new black suits and shoes and hats and coats. I know Sylvie and Ben never bought those things,” said Dillen.

“I just...” She lifted her chin. “Who else am I going to spend it on?”

That took him back. He cocked his head. “I don’t know.”

“You won’t let me help you. You made that very clear when I tried. But at least let me help the boys.”

“You are helping. You cleaned this house up and saw us all fed. Best meal I ever had. I’m just saying there’s other ways to help.” He rested a hand on her shoulder, his fingers caressing her neck.

It was so hard not to draw her in and kiss her. She’d let him. He saw it in her eyes.

“I know that. I just... I’m trying not to make mistakes. To do my best for them, and I don’t really know what I’m doing half the time.” She felt defeated and let her shoulders sag, a momentary lapse in her generally perfect posture.

His hand left her, and she almost whimpered at her grief at the loss of his touch. But then he used his knuckles to lift her chin, bringing her gaze up to meet his.

“You’ll never convince me of that.” He grinned. “You look like you know exactly.”

“I don’t,” she admitted, feeling the sudden need to get this off her chest. She motioned him down the hall, farther from the open door of the boys’ room, and lifted a finger to halt him before retreating a few steps into her own room. She returned with Mrs. Beeton’s Book of Household Management, offering it in two hands. “I’ve been using this.”

He accepted the well-worn volume and thumbed through the dog-eared pages.

“Didn’t figure you’d know your way around a kitchen. You learned all you been doing from this?” He held up the heavy book.

“Some. But not the food preparation or mothering. I’ve been cooking for years, and mothering is akin to nursing, I think.”

He extended the book and she returned the volume to the table just inside her room.

“Your mom wasn’t much of a—what’d that book call it—a household manager?”

“No. As you correctly surmised, she directs, plans menus and goes over the accounts with the housekeeper.”

“What about mothering? She do any of that?”

She couldn’t hold his searching gaze and for a moment considered changing the topic or outright lying. But she knew what her lie of omission had cost her before. So she buckled down and prepared to answer him. She hoped he wouldn’t show her any pity. It was too ridiculous. She’d had every advantage that money could buy and yet, she felt so uncertain.

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