Does your family know youre unchaperoned and in trouble?
No, and Id like to keep it that way. She couldnt believe it. Six long months shed kept her secrets safe, and in less than an hour, shed opened up her heart and her life to a man she didnt knowto a doctor, no less, to the kind of man she was running from.
I know how to keep a confidence. Treyshe didnt even know his last nameflashed her a wink. The devil shone in his eyes and in the cut of his one-sided grin. Im a doctor.
I know what you are.
Handsome, charming, debonair. Kind to children and damsels in distress. Twin dimples danced and beguiled, and he was far too sure of himself, yet, with those wicked eyes and the mesmerizing cut of his muscled body, he was that and more!
Praise for Jillian Harts previous titles
COOPERS WIFE
Well-crafted and poignantly funnythis is a feel-good story for both veterans and newcomers to the genre.
Romantic Times Magazine
LAST CHANCE BRIDE
It will touch you deeply.
Rendezvous
The warm and gentle humanity of Last Chance Bride is a welcome dose of sunshine after a long winter.
Romantic Times Magazine
Montana Man
Jillian Hart
www.millsandboon.co.uk
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Contents
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 One
Montana Territory, 1884
P lease, dont let them find me. Miranda Mitchell glanced over her shoulder at the snow-covered town street that stretched out behind her. Breathing hard, she kept running. She might not be able to see them, but she could feel them coming closer. A crowd surrounded her, blocking her view of the street. She was still safe. For now.
Driven by fear, she swiped at the snow gathering on the brim of her bonnet and kept running, her shoes tapping on the slippery ice toward the train at the end of the platform. The conductors last call to board rang in the crisp morning air, carried by the bitter wind that knifed through her clothes as she picked up her skirts and sprinted across the slick platform, her ticket crumpled in one hand.
Dark smoke plumed into the air, ash mixing with snow, and the train gave one long departing whistle. Miranda kept running. The platform seemed to go on forever. Well-wishers crowded next to the train, waving to loved ones safe inside, blocking her way.
Determined, she shouldered through a break in the crowd only to see the doors shut tight, the train ready to leave. Her faint hopes tumbled, and she simply stared. It couldnt be. She had to make this train. Her entire life depended on it.
Theyre still taking passengers down there. A kindly woman touched her elbow and then pointed with one gloved hand. Maybe you can still make it aboard.
Oh, thank you. Miranda gathered up her hopes and her skirts and ran, barreling down the edge of the platform with all her might. She still heard no commotion on the street, but wouldnt be able to hear anything over the deafening roar of the trains engine. If they saw her, would they shoot? No, not in a crowded place. Surely even a bounty hunter would have that much sense.
Then again, the man whod tracked her down didnt have the look of wisdom about him. Hard-eyed and ruthless, hed kicked in the back door of the boardinghouse, both guns already drawn. The sound of wood breaking had given her enough time to grab her satchel and run out the front. Without this warning, she would be in his custody now, enduring Lord knows what kind of treatment.
Her stomach turned to ice, and she skidded to a stop at the end of the line. A conductor was helping an old man board, and the train waited impatiently, engines rumbling. Miranda glanced over her shoulder but couldnt see the street. There were too many people. She eased up on tiptoe, but still couldnt see much more than an array of hats and a slice of the icy platform. The bounty hunter and his men could be out there, maybe as close as the ticket window, and she wouldnt be able to see them, wouldnt even know they were near.
Fear tasted cold and metallic on her tongue, and her heart thudded so hard in her chest, it hurt. The line in front of her was growing shorter, but not fast enough. Please, hurry, she prayed, her fingers curling around the tiny gold locket at her throat. Please, keep me safe.
No-o-o-o. No train. A little girls voice cut above the din of voices, the rumble of the engine and the clang of baggage being loaded, her heartbreak and terror keening on the wind.
Miranda turned and noticed a man, not three paces away, kneeling on the platform before a fragile child, holding her tenderly in his solid arms. He had the look of a lawmanbroad shoulders and intelligent eyes, strength and a hint of danger. He radiated might and competence. But there was no badge on his chest and nothing more than a six-shooter strapped to his muscled thigh. Two train tickets peeked out from his jacket pocket too fine to be bought and paid for with a sheriffs salary.
She shuffled a step forward in line, but she couldnt take her eyes off the handsome man made stronger by his tenderness for a child.
He brushed at the layer of snow that clung to the girls wool cap. Josie, if you and I dont board this train, then how are we gonna get to my house?
The girls brow wrinkled as she thought. We can walk right on down the road, Uncle Trey. Then we dont gotta take no train.
You want to walk all the way to Willow Creek?
I wont complain none. Not once.
But its a hundred miles from here to there.
I aint afraid to walk. Josie tilted her head to one side, pure fight.
A sharp, high sound split the air. Miranda jumped, ready to bolt, expecting to hear the clatter of galloping horses on the frozen ground or shouted threats from the bounty hunter and his men. When the sound shrilled again, she realized it was only the train whistle. Goodness, she felt foolish.
The conductor reached down to help a frail old woman onto the bottom step. She moved carefully, and while Miranda didnt want the woman to fall, she wished the line would move a little faster. The back of her neck started to prickleshe could feel those dangerous men gaining ground. She couldnt let them find her, she couldnt
Well, now, Josie. The mans voice, deep and tender as twilight, again cut through Mirandas thoughts and the noise surrounding them. She turned just enough so she could see him lean closer to speak with the small child in his arms, forehead to forehead. I got a confession to make. Im afraid to walk all that way.
You aint afraid of nothin, Uncle Trey, not even the train.
Miranda couldnt help herself. Unable to tear her gaze away, she peered past the brim of her bonnet at the mans profile and the charming grin that turned his chiseled face from handsome to breathtaking. She felt drawn toward his tenderness, something shed seen so little of in her own life or in her years volunteering at Childrens Hospital.
And she was amazed that this man, so big and strong, didnt seem diminished, less masculine, for his gentleness. It tugged at her heart like a thousand midnight dreams. The anxiety cold in her veins felt small when compared to the warmth of this mans treatment of the child he helda niece, not a daughter of his own.
Suppose we do decide to walk through the mountains all the way to my house. Now, theres all sorts of dangers to a man on foot, Josies Uncle Trey confided. A wild buffalo herd could trample me. A bear could decide Id make a fine supper. I could develop a bad case of bunions from walking in these new boots. You wouldnt want that, now, would you, Red?
Yes. Josie looked up at the train, tears pooling in her big green eyes. Fear lived theretrue as a spring morning, fresh as rain.
Now, how am I going to do my job with bunions? He tried to keep his voice light, but he glanced up at the diminishing passenger line and the sound of the engines ready to go. Miranda saw his panic and more, much more. If I get a whole lot of bunions, I wont be able to do more than limp. How would I make house calls? When Mrs. Watts gets another rash, Ill have to say Sorry maam, I wont be able to limp over and ease your misery. Cmon, do your old uncle a favor and get on the train.
But the tr-train m-might c-crash again. The little girl laid her cheek against his wide chest and sobbed. Thats how Ma and Pa died.
I promise it wont happen again. Deep lines of anguish matched the choked sound of his voice. Honey, theres no other way to get to my house. Not this time of year. Theres a storm coming up, and the mountain passes are closed
I dont wanna new home. Although the little girls voice was quiet, hardly more of a sound than the wind, the suffering in her voice rang as loud as the biggest bellsharp, pure, true. I want my ma.
All aboard! the conductors call pierced like a knife, and Miranda realized everyone had boarded the train except for her and this man and child.
I dont want to force her. The doctors voice drew her gaze and she realized hed noticed her watching themit was hard to miss. She was standing with her back to the train, her hands to her mouth, tears pooling in her eyes when she should be safely hidden on the train. Standing in plain sight like this
Her toes slid forward, bringing both feet and all of her closer. What was she doing? Every instinct screamed at her to turn around, that this wasnt any of her concern, that she had her own life-and-death problems.
And yet deep in her heart, the little girls words resonated over and over. Thats how Ma and Pa died. All her life, shed never been able to walk away from a child who needed help. Not one.
I could use a hand. His gaze flickered with relief, and she could see the anguish in those eyes as dark as a moonless night, deep like shadows. This train is about to roll down those tracks, and Ive got to find a way to get her aboard. I hate to force her after the accident.
Miranda saw the brace wrapped around the childs stick-thin leg, the steel still shiny and new. She remembered the train wreck of a month agotwenty-seven days, to be exact.
Shed disembarked from that fated train here on that same day. Shed been asking the ticket clerk directions to a respectable boardinghouse when shed heard the crash in the distance. Minutes later, a ball of fire rose on the western horizon.
Thirty-six people died and many more were injured. This little girl had been one of them. Agony twisted through her, her goal to escape unimportant. She turned her back on the street.
Dont be afraid. Miranda took a step nearer, unsure if there was anything she could do for this frightened, hurting child. She had to try. Your uncle is right. Trains dont always crash.
The little girl didnt look up. She clung to the strong doctor, her light red curls shaking with each tortured sob.
Josie is a very brave little girl. Grief darkened the uncles eyes, revealing a steady substance that drew Miranda closer, and she lowered her defenses just a little.
I can see that. But the train is starting to move. Her heart gave a little jolt when she saw the wheels turn once, and then again. The creak of steel upon steel and the groan of the loaded cars on the tracks filled the air.
Looks like Ill have to carry her on Regret laced his voice as he straightened, holding the girl captive in his arms.
No-o-o-o, Uncle Trey, dont m-make me. The sobs came, genuine and sharp with fear. I dont wanna get hurt again.
Hurry. Mirandas hand tightened around her satchels grip, not sure how best to help the frightened child. She saw a black bag alone on the platform and grabbed that up, too. We still can make it.
We have to. Im sorry, Josie. Anguish drew deeper lines across his face as he began jogging with the child, who struggled in his arms.
Miranda saw his remorse in the pinched lines around his expressive eyes and the fine cut of his mouth, drawn tight with worry for the child. He ran along the edge of the platform toward an open door.
As the long line of cars continued to slide away, one by one, Miranda saw in her memory the train wreck, surging back like the leading edge of a Montana blizzardharsh and swift and without mercy. She smelled the acrid scent of smoke, imagined the stillness after the world-altering screech of steel impacting steel, heard the passengers crying out in grief and fear and pain.
Shed hurried to help those she could then, and she ran to the uncle and niece now, her hand brushing the hard, lean curve of the doctors upper arm. She felt a flash of heat through his wool coat and her kid gloves where they briefly touched. But her gaze was only on the child, a little girl so fragile it looked as if the wind could blow her away as easily as it drove delicate snowflakes to the ground.
I know what you need. Miranda heard an explosion of gunfire behind her, pivoted, and saw the band of men riding hard down the nearby street.
The train continued snaking away, car after car lumbering by as Josies Uncle Trey stopped running and turned to study her with eyes dark with hope. What you need is a good-luck charm.
Aint no such thing. The childs eyes shone with unshed tears.
Sure there is. I have one hanging around my neck right now.