A Texas Christmas by Linda Broday

Author:Linda Broday [Broday, Linda]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Zebra Books
Published: 2011-10-03T21:00:00+00:00

Chapter 2

Sloan jerked up straight. He was stuck on the train.

Fine rescuer he’d turned out to be.

Forced to share tight quarters with Tess Whitgrove, of all people. There’d be no way to avoid her.

A few seconds before, he’d been mulling over a plan to bundle Mr. Powell up good and haul him into Kasota Springs to the doctor. But it looked like Mother Nature had other ideas.

And he didn’t dare set out for the ranch. He’d known of men who ventured out in a whiteout, lost their bearings, and ended up frozen stiff as a fireplace poker.

He gave Tess a wry grin. “Appears you won’t get rid of me today.”

“We have plenty of empty seats since most of the other passengers heard about the storm and got off in Farley Springs.” Her pale amber eyes clouded and her mouth drew in a tight line.

It was evident to Sloan that she was none too pleased to be saddled with him. Well, he’d try not to add to her headaches. Staying entirely out of her way would be impossible, though, given the limited space.

Sloan shifted and rubbed his leg. “Guess I’d best unhitch the horse from the sled and get him into the livestock car before he freezes to death.”

“I’m sure the animal would appreciate that.” Her silky golden hair that she’d tied back with a blue ribbon rippled down her back in curls as she turned to Mrs. Powell. “I can use your help seeing what kind of food Mr. Sullivan brought. Maybe we can find something for the children to nibble on.”

“All right, dear,” the older woman answered. “I need something to occupy myself with. Otherwise I’ll just sit and fret over things that are beyond my control.”

Sloan fidgeted. “Reckon I’d best see to my horse.”

He watched Tess give her patient a lingering pat before herding Ira Powell’s wife toward the supplies they’d unloaded in the front of the car. She seemed to care a lot about someone who was no kin. Could be an act for his benefit. Yet it appeared genuine enough. And there was Mrs. Abner and Mrs. Langtry, who could take on the chore of seeing what he’d brought and doling out some food, but they hadn’t stepped up to offer. Maybe those rumors about Tess Whitgrove were unfounded.

If she were truly the selfish overindulged woman he’d heard she was, she’d sit on her hands and expect to be waited on like the Queen of Sheba.

Yes, he was beginning to have a new admiration for the lovely banker’s daughter.

Prying his eyes off the gentle sway of her hips, he hurried to the woodstove that stood near the door of the passenger car. Someone had already piled a good stack of the wood he’d brought from the ranch beside it.

The train engineer knelt in front of the black iron stove and was busy laying a fire. The man looked up. “Go tend to your horse, Mr. Sullivan. I’ve got this.”

“It’s about time we got warm,” huffed a stout woman who perched stiffly in a nearby seat.

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