In Your Arms (Montana Romance) (5 page)

He shrugged on his coat
and fixed his hat on his head, then reached for her coat, hat, and mittens before Hattie could get to them. He held her coat open, challenge in his eyes.

She
clenched her jaw and her fists and considered marching out into the cold evening without a coat. Instead, she met Christian’s eyes with enough defiance to wither a lesser man. Christian merely stared back at her, lifting her coat a few inches. He wouldn’t move if she didn’t move.

In the end, she broke the impasse by turning to
thrust her hands violently into the sleeves. Christian fitted the coat up over her shoulders. The subtle scent of cedar and tobacco curled around her for the briefest of moments as he leaned close. She drew in a breath of it, rich and spicy, invigorating. Her heart thundered against her ribs. She tugged her coat tighter and jerked away.

“Thank you for your hospitality,
Mrs. Wright,” she said, snatching her hat and mittens from Christian then ignoring him. “I would stay for a longer visit if I could.”

“And I’d have invited you to supper if I’d had more warning,” Hattie replied.
She nodded over Lily’s shoulder to Christian. “I’d have invited both of you. It would have made for an exciting evening, I think.” Her lips twitched.

Christian snorted a laugh.
Lily held her disgust inside by a thread. Moses moved to open the front door, his face neutral, his eyes too amused for Lily’s comfort.

“Next time.
” Christian put on his gloves and touched the brim of his hat to Hattie. “We’ll make an occasion out of it.”

Lily stepped out onto the porch.
The frosty Montana air enveloped her. It was such a sharp contrast to her overheated body that she gulped for breath.

“Good evening
,” she said her final farewell. She turned to stomp down the steps to fetch her horse from the back of Christian’s wagon.

“Hold
on a second there!” Christian caught up to her. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Untying my horse,” she told him.

“Why bother. Let me drive you home. I have to return Michael’s wagon anyhow.”

“No thank you.”

Try as she did to work loose the knot he’d used to tie the horse to the wagon, her hands shook too hard. She gave up with a huff.

“Would you be so kind as to return the horse to
Peterman’s livery.”

She didn’t wait for an answer, but spun on her heel and charged off down the road.
The impersonal homes on either side of her with their bright windows and cozy lives only furthered her irritation.

“Lily, wait!”

Christian
scrambled after her, slipping on the fresh snow under a streetlight. She ignored him, tucking her hands under her arms.

“Wait!
Singing Bird!”

She stopped dead,
turning to face him, trembling with fury.

“You have no right—”

“Why don’t you let me walk you home? I’m sure someone will keep an eye on the wagon for me.”

She marveled at his arrogance.
He had no idea how infuriating he was.

A touch of inspiration hit her.
She clasped her hands behind her back and plastered on a smile. “Why certainly, Mr. Avery. Walk me home.”

“All right,” he said.
“Let’s go.”

He
took a few steps but stopped when she didn’t move.

“I said let’s go.”

“Certainly.” She nodded. “You lead the way.”

Christian huffed out a breath and shifted his weight
, catching on. “Where do you live?”

“You mean you don’t know?”
Lily arched an eyebrow.

“No, I do not.
” He matched her smarmy tone.

“Imagine that,” she said, shaking her head and marching off ahead of him.
“Christian Avery, Justice of the Peace, rushing to stick his nose into something he knows nothing about.”

Christian was silent.
Lily charged on, hoping that at last he would leave her alone. She heard the shuffle of his feet behind her, but nothing he could say would make her turn around.

“You are one hell of a—”

A sharp crack of gunfire cut through the night. The suddenness of the noise froze Lily in her spot, heart in her throat. She cowered as the front door of the house to her right banged open.

T
wo men in buckskin coats with bandanas over their faces pushed out into the front garden. Each of them held a sack in one hand and a pistol in the other. One of them fired a shot into the house before rushing towards the gate in the garden fence. The shot was met by a woman’s scream. More shots followed, whizzing inches past Lily’s head.

Christian threw his arms around
her, yanking her out of the street as the gunmen charged at them. His grip was tight and protective. Lily buried her face against the soft wool of his coat. More gunshots. Christian’s chest heaved with quick, alarmed breaths. His arms squeezed her close. The gunmen shouted, but their words were indistinct over the muffled panic ringing in Lily’s ears. Or was that Christian’s hand cradling her head?

With a strange rush of heat,
her tension evaporated. Christian held her. She wouldn’t fall, she couldn’t be hurt. He wouldn’t let that happen. Somehow she knew that.

She took a deep breath
, tobacco and cedar, then summoned the courage to look up over Christian’s shoulder at the scene around them. The gunmen slipped on the snowy street only a few yards from where they stood. Samuel Kuhn dashed out of the house and onto the porch, fully dressed in fur-collared coat and top hat, a gun in his hand. He’d fired a shot that went over Lily and Christian’s heads then fired another one for good measure.

“Stop them!
Stop those Indians! I’ve been robbed!”

Christian cursed.
Lily felt tension ripple through him. Her own fear returned with it. He wavered between holding her and loosening his grip before giving up and letting her go.

H
er hands clenched the lapels of his coat, keeping him close. She met his wide, flashing eyes, loathe to release him. She was safe, safe in his arms.

Sense struck a moment later and she
let go with a gasp. Christian reached out as though he would take her back, then twisted to find the robbers. With a tight curse he turned to chase after them.

The sudden cold air and withdrawal of support left
Lily off-balance. She grabbed the fence of the yard beside her and squinted across the flickering light of a streetlamp to follow Christian’s pursuit. He only made it a few yards down the street before another crack of gunfire split the air.

Lily
shrieked as Christian wheeled to a stop. She held her breath, eyes wide. Christian didn’t drop. Instead he turned back. He jogged to where an irate Samuel Kuhn was running out into the street.

Christian
hadn’t been shot. Wild tears sprung to her eyes. The shock of her reaction left her gasping. She swallowed and wiped her face with her mittened hands before anyone would be the wiser.

Samuel
fired one last shot into the dark. Try as she did to keep her dignity, Lily flinched and burst into uncontrollable trembling.

“Put that thing away!” Christian shouted, striding up to meet
Samuel.

“I’ve been robbed!
I have a right to defend my home and property!”

“Not when it’s too dark to see if you’re firing at a thief or a neighbor!”

Samuel let out a harsh breath that misted in the scant lamplight. Doors and windows in the surrounding houses opened as neighbors came out to see what had happened.

“This is insufferable!”
Samuel said. “I haven’t even lived here a full year and that’s the second time I’ve been robbed! First my business and now my home! And by Indians too! I told you—”

“
They didn’t look like Indians to me.” Christian shook his head.

“They were!
You can tell by those damn leather coats.”

“Anyone can own a buckskin.”

“Well who else would take to robbing folks in their own home? I’m surprised we still have our scalps!”

“They weren’t Indians!
You can file a report with Sheriff Porter in the morning and he’ll track down the real thieves,” Christian growled. Even in the poor light Lily could see the frustration lining his face. She stepped closer, needing to be near him.

“Your Sheriff Porter is an incompetent boob incapable of
performing his job!” Samuel snapped.

“I’d defend
Kent Porter if I could,” Christian said, “but I agree with you.” He shifted to look past Samuel. “You all right, ma’am?”

Mrs. Kuhn stood at the top of her porch steps
, hugging herself, eyes wide, dressed in her winter coat and an elegant hat. “We only left the house to go to dinner at the hotel,” she lamented, voice shaking. “We weren’t gone for more than an hour. How could this happen?”

“I’ll tell you how this could happen,”
Samuel said, shaking the gun in his fist. “It’s because we live in a two-bit, backwoods piece of nowhere overrun by Indians!” He turned to Lily.

She
should have been irate at the suggestion, but she was still numb with fading panic and could only blink.

“Now just a minute,” Christian jumped to
the defensive. “I won’t have you insulting respectable citizens or making accusations without proof.”

“
What more proof do you need?” Mr. Kuhn spit. “There’s no law and order here whatsoever!”

“Excuse me,
” Christian shouted, “but we’ve got law. I’m the law.”

Lily stared at Christian, too much in shock to scoff at his comment the way she should.

“I have half a mind to wire my contacts in the U.S. Army to come set this place in order,” Samuel railed.

“
You can’t make any changes to the town’s law enforcement without a vote by the town council,” Christian argued.

“Yeah?
Then maybe I’ll bring it up for a vote at the next meeting. Maybe I’ll call for a vote to ban Indians from town too.” Again he glared at Lily as if she had robbed his house herself. “The whole lot of you are nothing but trouble.”

“
I’m warning you!” Christian growled, but it was too late. Samuel spun on his heel and walked away up the path leading to his robbed house and his whimpering wife. Christian swore under his breath, then called after him. “Make sure you go over to the jail tomorrow to file a report!”

“Oh, I’ll file a report, all right.”
Samuel turned back to him. “I’ll file an official complaint over the gross mismanagement of this entire town!” He slammed his front door behind him.

Christian hissed out
a curse and rubbed his face. “Do you see?” He directed his frustration at Lily. “Schoolyard fights in the morning, accusations of thievery in the evening. What next?”

Lily
was beyond answering. She drew in a breath of cold air and stepped around him, avoiding his eyes. She was shaking, her skin prickling with a fine layer of sweat, and the man who had made her feel so safe for one fleeting moment had been replaced by an arrogant bastard.

“Where do you think you’re going?”
Christian fell into stride beside her.

“Home,” she answered
, then frowned at the quiver in her tone.

She hugged herself against the encroaching cold.

“Where is home?” Christian asked, in no mood to play games.

“Miss Viola Jones’s boarding house,” Lily conceded.

To her surprise, Christian swore again. “You would live out there, wouldn’t you,” he growled.

She should have called him out for his rudeness.
She should have scolded him and taught him manners. But her heart was still pounding so hard the only thing she could say was, “Yes, I would.”

“Come on, then
. I’m driving you home. No arguments this time.”

It was a testament to how frayed her nerves were that she only swayed on her spot for a moment before
trailing after him. Her world had been so clear and ordered that morning. Now, thanks to Christian Avery, it was a mess.

Chapter Five

Christian leaned against the counter in Michael West’s general store, chewing on the end of the cigar he had yet to light. “It was enough to make a man wish he’d never gotten out of bed that morning,” he finished up his sorry tale of the day before.

The store was packed and Michael
could only nod as he tallied up Angus McGee’s tab. “That’ll be eighteen dollars and forty cents,” he told Angus. He followed that immediately by saying, “Sounds like you enjoyed it,” to Christian.

“I most certainly did not,” Christian groused.
He tucked the cigar in his pocket and scooted out of the way of a middle aged woman and her daughter on their way to the sewing notions. “Being frozen solid, spoken to like a child, and shot at are not pastimes I enjoy.”

“Then how come you always seem to be in somebody’s line of fire?” Michael replied.
“Good morning, Mrs. Folsom,” he greeted the next customer. “How are you this fine morning?”

“Tired of waiting,” Mrs. Folsom answered with a huff.
“Can’t some of these people shop at Kuhn’s Emporium in the new part of town? They’re new people anyhow.”

“You wouldn’t grudge me my business now, would you?”
Michael smiled at the woman, proving why his business continued to boom in spite of the competition.

“As I understand it, Mr. Kuhn has just as much business as we do,” Michael’s wife,
Charlotte ‘Charlie’ West, commented as she breezed through the curtain from the storeroom. Her black hair was done up in the latest fashion and her clothes were fine enough for the Philadelphia society she and Michael came from, but she wore a plain apron over her finery and carried a box of canned goods in her arms. “The town has grown so much even two stores can’t supply everyone.”

“Morning, Charlie,” Christian touched the brim of his hat to her.
“Where’s that beautiful baby girl of yours?”

“Phin’s got her over at the bank,” Charlie replied, lifting her box higher to wedge between a pair of shoppers.
“It’s easier for Eloise to take a nap over there than in this noisy place. You can hear every sneeze down here from the apartment.”

Christian snorted at the idea of his friend Phineas Bell running a bank and taking care of an infant at the same time.

“Charlie, you shouldn’t be lifting that,” Michael scolded his wife. “Here.” He stepped away from the register, taking the box from Charlie’s arms and shooing her behind the counter.

The
barely visible bump of Charlie and Michael’s next bundle of joy stood out as Charlie leaned towards the counter to help Mrs. Folsom. Christian grinned in spite of himself. Michael and Charlie hadn’t quite been married for a year and a half and they were already working on their second child. Christian and his friends, Phin Bell and Eric Quinlan, half the town really, had started placing bets on how many children the two would have before they quit. Christian’s money was on eight.

Thoughts of all those kids pulled him back around to the mess of the day before.

“The point of the whole thing,” he resumed as he followed Michael down the store’s central aisle, dodging past Jed Archer with a nod, “is that as much as I like Sturdy Oak and his family, I don’t think it’s a good idea right now for Indian children to attend school with the other kids. It stirs up too much trouble.”

“
Says who?” Michael shrugged, then set the box on the floor and began stocking shelves without looking at Christian.

Christian let out an impatient breath.
“You saw what I saw yesterday.”

Michael arched an eyebrow.
“I saw a bunch of boys fighting. I also saw their teacher breaking up the fight, as teachers do. What makes that different from any other schoolyard in America?”

Michael
’s too-casual reply sent a flare of irritation rippling down Christian’s back. “That’s the other thing. In the middle of my rational explanation of how we could preserve the peace in Cold Springs by finding alternative solutions for the kids, Lily Singer challenged me to a bet.”

“Did she?”
Michael grinned as he worked.

“Yes.
You know these academic games the school is having next week?”

“I do.
The school asked me to be the moderator.”

“Well, Lily bet me that she can put together a
mixed team of Indians and other students and that they will win.”

Michael chuckled.
“So what are you going to lose to her?”

“
If
her team wins, I have to take a turn teaching civics to her class.”

“Then you’d better start
planning your lessons right now.” Michael straightened and thumped Christian on the back. “Miss Singer is the best teacher this town has ever seen. If she says she’ll win, my money is on her.”

Christian
scowled, dread filling his gut. Michael had a point. Lily could teach a stone to say it’s A-B-Cs.

Out of the corner of his eye
, Christian caught Jed Archer staring at him. He met Jed’s stare with a scowl. Jumpy as a ferret, Jed jerked away as if Christian had barked at him and scrambled to the other side of the store.

“What’s his problem?”
Christian asked Michael under his breath.

Michael shrugged.
“He still can’t find steady work since Eric fired him.” He shook his head and went back to work. “Why are you so wrapped up about a schoolyard fight anyhow?”

“
I’m not. I’m upset about what it leads to.” Christian latched back onto something he knew. “You know Samuel Kuhn is convinced it was Indians who robbed him.”

Michael snorted.
“People have been blaming crimes on Indians since the Boston Tea Party. You know as well as I do that people around here are touchy and prejudiced, but I haven’t seen any massacres yet.”

“Those boys yesterday,” Christian argued on.
“They are almost as big as Lily now. Can you imagine what they’ll look like by the end of the school year? Have you seen what a thug Bo Turner is? His kid was involved, and Lily rushed into the middle of it. What if she gets hurt next time? What if she’s walking down the street and some numbskull, like Bo, gets it in his head to go after her?”

Michael stopped
, the can he held in mid-air. He straightened and blinked at Christian as though all the stars in the universe had just aligned. He chuckled and put the can on the shelf. “Now I understand.”

Christian scowled.
“What do you understand?”

Michael shook his head.
“All this talk about little fights leading to big ones and boys in the schoolyard turning into thugs in the streets.”

“What of it?”

“You’re worried about her.”

“It’s my duty to be concerned about everyone in Cold Springs.”

Michael stared at him over the top of his glasses. “And you all said I was blind when Charlie first came along.”

Christian’s scowl deepened.
“What does Charlie have to do with any of this? I’m talking about trouble at the school here. I’m talking about order and safety in this town.”

“
Sure you are.” Michael smirked. “Just like I’m sure you were adamant about hiring Miss Singer—in spite of half the town council’s objections over her native heritage—for her ability to handle obstreperous students.”

He sounded a little too smug for Christian’s comfort.
“I was adamant about hiring her because of her teaching experience. That’s all.”

“
Right.” The grin on Michael’s face stayed firmly where it was. He shifted from one foot to the other, that enigmatic spark lighting his eyes. “You know what you should do to ensure that peace and order are maintained?”

“What?”

“You should coach one of the teams for the academic games.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you. They’re taking volunteers from the community as coaches.”

“How would that help anything?”

“It would give you an excuse to be at the school more often, interacting with these dangerous, troublemaking students you’re so anxious about. You could make sure none of them attack Miss Singer. I’ve got some shining armor upstairs you can borrow for the job.”

Christian sent Michael a flat stare.
Now he was just teasing.

He
did have a point though. If he was at the school more often he could stop the trouble at its source and keep a sharp eye on Lily. He could see her every day, get close.

“
And I could coach a team that would beat Lily’s,” he spoke his final thoughts aloud, taking it one step further. “Kill two birds with one stone.”

“Is that what you’re after?
Killing birds?” Michael was enjoying his concerns far too much. “Well,” he nodded at something past Christian’s shoulder, “why don’t you discuss the idea with the charming Miss Singer herself?”

“Miss Singer is about as charming as a
mountain lion with a toothache,” Christian grumbled.

“Then you’d do well to step aside so I can get past you and reach the tooth powder, Mr. Avery.”

The sound of Lily’s voice hit Christian like a lightning bolt down his spine. His legs suddenly weren’t strong enough to support him. He whirled around to find Lily standing right behind him in the crowded store. Her arms were crossed, a half-filled basket draped over one of them. A dark frown creased the smooth sand-brown skin of her face. Some women were only beautiful when they smiled, but Lily glowed when she was irate.

“
What do you think, Miss Singer?” He feigned cool ease, though his heart was pounding up near his throat. “Should I coach a team for the academic games?”

She turned away from him to study the shelf of canned beans Michael had just arranged.
“Only if you’ve developed a taste for defeat, Mr. Avery.”

The challenge sizzled through him like an electric current
.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that you’re not a teacher, Mr. Avery. You’re a man with a distracting alternative agenda.” She spared him a sideways glance. “One that is not conducive to organizing children and leading them to excel.”

“Are you saying I couldn’t win?”
The gauntlet had been thrown.

“C
an I help you with something, Miss Singer?” Michael intervened.

“I’m looking for chamomile tea,” she said.
“You seem to be out.”

Michael
adjusted his glasses and scanned the row of shelves. “I’m sure we have some in the back. If you wouldn’t mind waiting for just one moment.”

“Not at all,” Lily nodded.

Michael brushed his hands on his apron and dodged around Christian. He warned him to behave with a look, then wove his way through the store to the back room.

Christian straightened and
thrust his hands in his pockets. He watched Lily as she continued her shopping, willing himself to settle down. Lily stood straight as a schoolmarm as she scanned the store shelves, but there was nothing mousy or prissy about her. She may not have been particularly tall, but the trim lines of her body in the nondescript dress she wore were formidable. When she snuck a sideways look at him he couldn’t help but smile.

“Have you recovered from last night?” he asked.

Last night, when he had put his arms around her, when she had rested against his shoulder. Last night, when he had felt the pounding of her heart, even though it was through layers of wool. Last night, when she had gripped his coat and almost not let go.

The muscles in her face twitched and softened and tensed again so fast
he could have imagined it.

“I will recover when I no longer have to worry about my students being denied the education they deserve, Mr. Avery.”
She pushed past him, reaching for a can of beans but changing her mind.

S
he swayed close to him to avoid a woman with a small child in tow. The scent of warm lavender caught him. He could reach out and sweep her into his arms right there, carry on where they had left off last night.

If he was a fool, that was.

“No one’s trying to deny anyone anything,” he said, twisting to follow her when she ducked around him to a display of sugar sacks. “And why don’t you just call me Christian?”

She blinked, her composure slipping then snapping back into place.

“It wouldn’t be appropriate.” She stepped away, focused on her shopping instead of him.

“Says who?”

“Says….”

Her brow knit into a frown.
Her long fingers paused in mid-air as she reached for a jar of cinnamon sticks. She let her hand drop and turned to face him.

“I’m not going to engage in frivolous arguments with you,” she said and cut
around him to a larger spice rack.

He pressed up against the
display of sugar sacks as she passed. Her arm brushed his chest. He felt the swish of her skirts against his legs as she swerved to avoid another shopper. He raised his hands, ready to catch her if she tripped. When she didn’t, he followed her around the corner to the next aisle.