Mail-Order Holiday Brides: Home for Christmas / Snowflakes for Dry Creek. Janet Tronstad

Tonight, you’ll be safe and warm. I promise.”

      The boy nodded, as if in agreement. Elijah wasn’t sure he could trust him. Best to speak with the nurse and make sure she kept a sharp eye on the door, just in case. Wind gusted against the siding as he left the room, a reminder of the frigid conditions outside. There was something about the kid. He’d come across runaways in his job before, but this one affected him.

      He followed the sound of Christina’s dulcet alto. “...I really had hoped it was just a bad bruise,” she explained to the doctor. “Guess I was wrong.”

      “You’ll need to keep icing it on and off to get the swelling down.” The doc tucked a final piece of gauze into place and stood. “There. When you take her home, Elijah, make sure and get her ice from the kitchen.”

      “I’m perfectly capable of getting my own ice,” Christina said, rolling her eyes.

      “I’ll take care of it.” Elijah leaned one shoulder against the door. The sight of her filled him with peace. It took every scrap of his willpower to keep from tracing the curve of her cheek and the adorable tip of her chin with his gaze. Stay unaffected, Gable, he thought, straightening his spine. “So, it was broken. I was right all along?”

      “Yes, yes, no need to comment on it.”

      He intended to say something light and breezy in return, but a loud whap, whap, whap echoed down the hallway behind him.

      He stepped into Toby’s room to find the window open and the shutter slapping the siding. No sign of the boy. His clothes and coat were missing from the closet. He really hadn’t thought the boy would escape and leave chocolate cake behind.

      Elijah hung his head. That was one dangerously cold winter storm and Toby was out in it. Alone.

      * * *

      “Elijah.” Christina spotted the marshal in the small crowd of the late-breakfast rush at the boardinghouse. The red-hot stove struggled to heat the dining room. The morning might be cold, but the storm had blown out. A small blessing. “Elijah.”

      “Christina.” The broad-shouldered marshal turned in his chair, and the smile that stretched his granite face when he spotted her drove the chill from the air.

      “How’s your arm feeling?” He bounded to his feet, looking strappingly handsome in a dark shirt and denims. Likely every woman in the room swooned at the sight, and it wasn’t only her.

      “It’s better. See, I can wiggle my fingers. The swelling is going down. The doc is going to be happy, since now he can splint it properly.” She fiddled with her unbuttoned sleeve cuff, showing the makeshift splint over her broken wrist. “I can tell by looking at you that you didn’t find Toby. I worried about him all night.”

      “Me, too.” Shadows darkened his eyes. “I looked everywhere I could think.”

      “How late did you search?”

      “No idea.” He pulled out a chair at his table. “The storm finally turned bad enough that I had to stop.”

      “He’s a smart boy.” Christina couldn’t ignore the fact that Toby knew how to get by. He’d been on his own for a good while. “He would know to find shelter and warmth.”

      “He was safe and warm where he was.” Elijah’s face compressed, a hint of his inner regrets. “I should have kept a better eye on him.”

      “I should have, too.” She laid her hand on his, which rested on the back of the chair he held out for her. An act of friendship, that was all, a gesture of comfort. So why did it feel like more? Touching him was like coming home to a warm fire after being out in winter’s cold. She removed her hand and settled into the chair he held for her, troubled by her reaction to him.

      Maybe it was because she’d been alone, that’s all. Of course it felt nice having friends again. First Annabelle and now Elijah. Tears of gratitude burned behind her eyes, even as she felt sad for Toby. Her life was changing for the better. She had friends, and in Tom she would have a husband and a home. The chance for a family and a happily-ever-after. She wanted that for the homeless little boy, too.

      “Here, you may as well finish up the bacon.” Elijah shoved a small plate in her direction.

      “Oh, no, I just came in for tea.”

      “Fine, but I ordered too much. I’d hate to see it go to waste.” He shrugged, as if it didn’t matter to him, but it did. He turned over the clean cup at her place setting and lifted the small teapot sitting in the center of the table. “I was about to head out and continue my search for Toby.”

      “Judging by the way you’re dressed, it’s your day off.” She studied the offered plate but didn’t move to take it.

      “Yes, I had time off for the holidays, so I may as well use it for Toby. I don’t have much else to do but stay in and read.” He poured himself a steaming cup of tea, too.

      “You read? Me, too. At least when my ma was alive, if we weren’t sewing or knitting, we were reading. Staying up way too late at night because we couldn’t put our books down and come morning, we talked books over the breakfast dishes.”

      “You had a happy home.”

      “I did. The Lord was watching over me for sure when Ma and Pa came to choose a child.” She looked wistful instead of sad, as if hoping the past could come around again. “I had it once, and it’s what I’m wishing for again.”

      “I’ve noticed that you make your own happiness, Christina Eberlee.” He liked that about her. He wished he could get past the knot of worry in his gut.

      Please let Tom Rutger be good to her, he prayed. He wanted the man to do his best for her. She deserved that and more.

      “So, what do you like to read?” she asked after bowing her head for a brief, silent grace. “Adventure novels?”

      “Good guess. I can’t put them down.” He nudged the sugar bowl in her direction. “I was going to start The Last of the Mohicans last night, but—”

      “But you were out looking for Toby.” She stirred sugar into her tea. “I could hardly sleep last night thinking about him out in the cold.”

      “Me, either. I’ve already put in some time trying to track him down. Will do more when I leave here. We’ll see if I can’t bring in the little renegade.”

      “He’s far too young to be on his own. You know he’s been that way for a while. His clothes, his hair. How skinny he is.” She thought of the past five months spent sleeping in the shelter of alleys or stables. Toby deserved better. “And what about the bruise on his head?”

      “The doc said he looked fine—it was just a hard bump, but he needs to be looked after. I’ll find him...don’t worry. I won’t stop until I do.”

      “What will happen to him then?” She already knew the answer, her stomach knotting as she took a bit of bacon.

      “The orphanage.” Elijah shrugged, a helpless gesture. “That’s standard protocol. When there are no parents or guardians, a minor child is surrendered to the territory.”

      “I know.” Dark, dim memories of a cold bed and bland food, of stern, overworked women taking care of too many children threatened to well up. Memories she’d thought she’d forgotten. She didn’t want that future for Toby. There was something about him, a sweetness, that grabbed at her heart. “Maybe you know of a family around here looking for a little boy?”

      “Times are hard. Many folks are having a hard time providing for the kids they have, but I’ll ask the sheriff. He knows everyone in this town, so he might know of someone.”

      “At least there’s a chance.” The boy’s round face and owlish eyes flashed into her mind, an image of him staring at the wall and refusing to talk, refusing to trust. She would pray hard for him, she decided as a familiar man caught her eyes. He made his way