A Lawman's Christmas_ A McKettricks of Texas Novel - Linda Lael Miller [30]
Clay cleared his throat before answering, but his words still came out sounding husky. “No, ma’am,” he said, almost shyly. “I wouldn’t mind.”
So Dara Rose bundled Harriet up as warmly as she could, and then herself, and Clay lifted Harriet up again, simultaneously whistling for the dog.
Chester got up immediately, ready to go.
“You give some thought to what I said, Miz Nolan,” Philo shouted after her, as she followed Clay out into the waning snowstorm. “Ain’t no shame in buying on credit!”
Dara Rose ignored him.
The snow, having fallen hard and fast all morning, was nearly knee-deep and powdery. Clay and the dog seemed to navigate it with relative ease, Chester moving in a hopping way that might have been comical under more ordinary circumstances, and Dara Rose picked her way along in the tracks of the marshal’s boots.
Harriet, snug against Clay’s chest, with the front of his coat around her, looked back over his shoulder at Dara Rose, her eyes merry with adventure. The child was clearly reveling in Mr. McKettrick’s attention—it was imprudent to think of him as “Clay,” Dara Rose had decided—and no doubt pretending she had a papa again.
The thought made Dara Rose’s throat ache like one big bruise, and her eyes scalded. She was glad Mr. McKettrick couldn’t see her face.
They trooped on, Clay forging a way for all of them when the dog grew tired, and the snow was thickening again by the time they reached the house. The respite, it seemed, was nearly over.
The air was shiver-cold, and Chester needed to rest. Even though Dara Rose was mildly alarmed by the thought of the new marshal filling her house with his purely masculine presence, she had no choice but to ask him in.
There was no sign of Edrina, which was both a relief and a worry to Dara Rose. Once she had her elder daughter at home, safe and sound, she’d move on to the other concerns—how the chickens were faring, for a start, and the state of the woodpile stacked against the back of the house. Thanks to the town council, there was a good supply of firewood, but some of it would need drying out before it could be burned.
Clay—Mr. McKettrick suddenly seemed too unwieldy even in her thoughts—walked straight through to the kitchen, set Harriet on her feet and went about building up the dwindling fire in the cookstove.
Chester practically collapsed on the rug in front of the sink.
“I’ll go on to the schoolhouse,” Clay told Dara Rose, when he’d finished at the stove, “and see about bringing Edrina home. It would be a favor to me, Mrs. Nolan, if you’d let my dog stay here while I’m gone, since he’s probably too tuckered out to go much farther.”
This time, Dara Rose welcomed the heat that surged through her, pulsing in her face. They weren’t without their blessings, she and the children. “Of course,” she said awkwardly. “Harriet and I will look after Chester. And I don’t mind admitting I’m worried that Edrina might try to make her way home on her own.”
Clay nodded, grinned a little. “She might, at that,” he said.
That grin did something to Dara Rose. She told herself it was simple thankfulness. She needed help, and someone was there to give it and that was that.
“What about the other children?” she asked, as Clay started for the back door.
“If any of them are stranded at the schoolhouse,” he answered, his hand on the knob, “I’ll make sure they get where they’re supposed to go—after I bring your girl home, that is.” He turned toward Harriet, who was now on her knees next to Chester, all concern for his temperament evidently past, drying off his coat with a flour-sack dish towel, and tugged at the brim of his hat. “Thank you for minding my friend, there,” he told the child. “Looks as though he likes you.”
Harriet beamed. “I knew he wouldn’t bite me,” she said.
Clay smiled briefly then, opened the door, leaned into the wind that rushed to meet him and stepped outside. The door closed behind him.
CLAY FOUND HIS WAY