Wildfire Creek (33 page)

“Smells good, Ginny,” Dax called as they cleaned up.

Luke noted the jumbles she’d baked earlier sitting on a counter and snapped one up before Ginny caught him. He tossed another to Dax, who caught it and took a bite just as the two women walked into the kitchen.

“Luke Pelletier,” Ginny scolded. “I told you those were for after supper.”

He held his arms in front of him, palms out. “Guess I forgot.” He tried to reach for another before she shooed him away.

“You may have to seal those up before these two take them all.” Rachel shot a smile at Dax.

“I’m going to tell both of you now. You’d better not get into the pies I’m baking tomorrow,” Ginny warned. “They’ll be for Christmas Day supper and not before.”

Luke’s mouth tilted up at the implied threat. “And just what would you do if a pie disappeared?”

She fisted her hands, rested them on her hips, and lifted her chin in a defiant gesture Luke found even more amusing. “Are you certain you want to find out?”

His eyes crinkled at the corners, thinking how beautiful she looked with her cheeks flushed and eyes blazing. He knew her threat was in gest, yet the game he’d started had turned on him, igniting a desire which startled Luke into taking a step away. He placed a hand over his heart.

“Your pies are safe from me, Ginny. Of course, I can’t speak for Dax.”

She shifted her gaze from Luke to Dax, who chuckled. “Don’t worry, Ginny. I don’t want to upset the person cooking my Christmas meal.”

“Good. Then let me finish supper or you won’t eat for hours.”

Rachel ushered them from the kitchen. “I want to show you what Ginny did.”

The men had entered through the back, missing the decorated wreaths on the front door and window, as well as the strands of dried berries, nuts, and popped corn hanging around the room. The last time Luke saw such a display had been years before when his mother spent days fixing up the house, making it a place where everyone wanted to congregate for the holiday. The memory brought a lump to his throat.

He glanced at Dax, noticing a similar look on his face. Their parents and younger brother had died during the last years of the war, leaving them with an inactive business and a home destroyed by Sherman’s army. Christmas had meant little to them since losing their family.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Rachel asked, having no idea how the simple act of decorating for the holiday impacted them.

Luke cleared his throat, not taking his eyes from the decorations. “Yes, it is,” he muttered in a hoarse whisper. He glanced over his shoulder toward the kitchen, knowing he should thank Ginny and let her know how much her efforts meant. Instead, he shot a quick look at Dax. “I need to do something before the storm worsens.”

Rachel stepped next to her husband as Luke closed the door. “Is he all right?”

Dax wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close. “Yes, I believe he is.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

“Why are you bringing a tree into the house, Mr. Luke?” Mary’s eyes grew wide as she watched him walk past. She didn’t wait for an answer before running to the kitchen where her sister and Rachel piled food into serving bowls. “Ginny, come see what Mr. Luke did.”

The women turned at Mary’s excited voice.

“Come see,” she repeated before running back to where Luke worked to place the tree upright in the stand he’d made of wood.

“I suppose we should see what she’s talking about.” Rachel placed the pot of vegetables aside and wiped her hands on her apron. She stepped into the front room and stopped, blocking Ginny’s view. “What a wonderful idea, Luke.”

“What is it, Rachel?” Ginny asked from behind her. Rachel stepped aside, allowing her to see the tree he’d placed before the front window.

Ginny looked between Luke and the tree, her brows knit together in confusion.

“Haven’t you ever seen a Christmas tree?” Luke asked.

Her eyes widened in surprise. “Yes, in a store window. I’ve never seen one in a house.”

“Our mother made sure we had a tree each Christmas. She spent hours threading berries and nuts, like you have, and hung them on the tree. Every home we visited in Savannah at Christmas had a tree much like this one.”

She walked up and touched a branch, noting the dampness still clinging to the needles, then turned toward him. “Is it all right if I make more strands to decorate it?”

“I hoped you would.”

“What’s all the commotion about?” Dax asked before spotting the tree. “This must be the ‘chore’ you mentioned.”

“What do you think?” Luke asked.

“It may not be as big as the ones Father brought in for Mother, but it will certainly do.” Dax’s mouth curved into a grin.

“Especially when Ginny gets done fixing it up.” Luke tilted a brow at her, looking for agreement.

Ginny flashed him a dazzling smile. “I’ll start right after supper.”

His gaze fixed on her as she walked toward the kitchen, the sway of her hips adding to the punch he’d felt in his stomach at her smile. Each day brought more uncertainty to his determination to distance himself from Ginny, continuing the path he’d followed for years. He enjoyed the freedom his single status provided—until recently.

Each night he fell asleep with images of her rolling through his mind, then woke with an uncomfortable ache in his body each morning. He felt his resolve crumbling, wondering if he should abandon what had guided him for years to see if there’d be any chance Ginny could fit into his life.

Luke didn’t know how long he’d stood in place, immobilized by the effect she had on him, before Dax placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Good idea.”

Luke hesitated, momentarily disconcerted, and wondered if Dax read his mind. “About?”

“The tree.” Dax dropped his hand and narrowed his eyes. “Are you all right?” he asked, already having a good idea of what tormented Luke.

He recovered, offering the infectious grin that had pulled him through many uncomfortable situations. “Of course. Guess I’ll clean up and get myself presentable.” He ignored the knowing look in Dax’s eyes and hoped he could conceal his confusion over Ginny a while longer.

Big Pine, Montana

“If you and the boys are set on it, then go ahead. I won’t be a part of another raid.” Rick’s jaw clenched at the knowledge Flatnose and the men were determined to go after the gold wagon rumored to be the biggest haul in months.

“You’ll be missing out on a lot of gold.”

“Maybe. But if I’m right, the citizens committee is setting a trap and you’ll be riding right into it.” Greed and anger had blinded Rick in the past, ever since the deaths of his family. He no longer wanted to be the man he’d become over the last few years, giving in to the destructive emotions which had driven him for too long.

Flatnose didn’t like the reminder he might be wrong about the wagon. What troubled him even more was his partner’s refusal to be a part of the raid. He thought he could sway him. Rick’s flat refusal stunned him as much as the change he saw in a man he believed he knew. The clothes were part of it—fancy suit, ruffled shirt, and expensive pocket watch. The biggest difference was the dead calm of his decision to walk away—not just from the gold, but from him and the gang. Rick had made it clear he wanted no further association with any of them. Flatnose believed you either stayed a part of the gang or signed your own death sentence. No one walked away unless everyone did.

“Guess we’ll just find out who’s right on this. The wagon is scheduled for the middle of January. Let me know if you change your mind.”

“My decision stands. I won’t be riding with you on this raid or any others. I’m done.” Rick walked to the door and grasped the handle, indicating their meeting had ended. “I hope you and the boys know what you’re doing.” He stood aside as Flatnose stepped into the predawn night.

“Don’t worry about us. Something tells me this will be the take of a lifetime.”

Rick hoped the wagon didn’t turn out to be a trap. If it were nothing more than an increased load, they’d take their loot and leave the area. Except he’d still be at risk if Flatnose or one of the others were ever caught and implicated him.

He walked to his desk, opened a drawer, and reached into the back, pulling out a small leather pouch. He poured out the contents and reached for a slim gold band. He held it up, remembering the day he’d placed it on his wife’s finger, a stab of regret coursing through him. Rick knew he’d never love another woman, not even Felicity, the way he had her. And he believed, without question, he’d never father more children. The gut-wrenching pain of losing a child wouldn’t be repeated.

Rick knew he could find happiness with Felicity. He cared for her a great deal. Perhaps, in time, he would come to love her. He no longer wished to isolate himself, depending on others who lived outside the law, always feeling the need to look over his shoulder. His desire for a respectable life increased with every day he stayed away from Flatnose and the ranch.

Now he must make a critical decision. If successful, his future would be secure. If it failed, he’d be on the run again, leaving Felicity and his knew life behind.

He would spend Christmas with Felicity, not thinking of the decision he must make, enjoying whatever time he had with her. By the end of December, his choice would be determined and he’d be forced to wait for the outcome.

Splendor, Montana

The storm receded as the sun rose Christmas morning, leaving several feet of snow and ensuring there’d be little chance of Gabe or Noah making it to the ranch for Christmas supper. Even so, Rachel held out hope they’d find a way to join them.

“I’m so glad you brought Uncle Charles to the ranch early.” Rachel finished dressing, fumbling with her buttons until Dax walked up and took over.

“How are you feeling?” He knew she’d already lost what little remained in her stomach. She’d declined going downstairs to breakfast, preferring to stay in bed. He’d brought up a plate anyway, sitting patiently while she took three or four bites, then rushed to the basin on the dresser. He knew his refusal to leave Rachel alone the last few mornings when she’d become sick embarrassed her, but Dax didn’t care. Although common, Rachel had hoped to avoid the experience. Now she prayed for it to be over soon.

“I’m feeling much better. This should last a few more weeks, at most. You don’t need to stay with me each time.” She grabbed a brush and drew it through her hair, fighting the tangles until Dax’s hand clamped over hers and he took over.

A few minutes later, he set down the brush, leaned over and kissed her cheek. “I need to go out with the men. We’ll be back in plenty of time to help with whatever you need before supper.”

They walked downstairs together, smelling spices intermingled with coffee. Dax inhaled, enjoying the aromas, while Rachel clutched her stomach, wishing she were over the dreaded illness.

“You ready?” Luke asked, handing Dax his coat and hat. “I asked Bull to select two others to stay here. I’m not comfortable leaving the women alone knowing the thieves may come back at any time.”

“Agreed. I suspect they won’t last long in this weather with no fresh eggs or meat. Is there anything left at your place?”

“No food or supplies. Unless they need a stove or furniture, the house should be safe enough.” At least Luke hoped so.

“Did you speak with Ginny this morning?”