A Lawman's Christmas_ A McKettricks of Texas Novel - Linda Lael Miller [31]
Except for Edrina, who was huddled close to the stove and bundled inside a faded quilt, the schoolmarm was alone. Evidently, the other kids had already been collected by kinfolks and taken home.
Edrina smiled at him. “I knew you’d come to fetch me, if Mama didn’t,” she said, with a certainty that warmed his heart.
“Sit down, Marshal,” Miss Krenshaw all but commanded, indicating her desk chair, which was the only one in the schoolroom big enough for an adult. “I’ve got some coffee brewing in back.”
Clay didn’t plan to tarry long, since the storm was more likely to get worse than it was to get better, and he wanted to get Edrina back to her mother and sister while the getting was good. But hot coffee sounded mighty nice to him just then, and he wouldn’t mind sitting for a few minutes, either. He was still a young man, and fit, but that cold made his bones ache.
“Thank you,” he said, and took the offered chair.
Miss Krenshaw disappeared into the back, where she probably had private quarters, and returned promptly with the promised coffee.
“Thanks,” Clay repeated, taking the steaming mug from her hand.
Not one to be idle, it would seem, Miss Alvira got busy erasing the day’s lessons off the blackboard.
“You’ll be all right here, on your own?” Clay asked presently, restored by the tasty brew. Miss Alvira had laced it with whiskey, which raised her a notch in his already high estimation. Too bad he couldn’t work up an interest in courting the lady.
“I’ll be just fine,” Miss Alvira said, still busy. She sounded a mite affronted by the question, in fact. “I have everything I need, right here.”
Edrina, still seated by the stove, took in the conversation, but offered no comment. She did look somewhat pensive, though, and Clay wondered briefly what was going through that busy little brain of hers.
He finished the coffee, got to his feet, glanced at one of the windows.
There was no letup to the snow, as far as he could tell.
Miss Alvira marched into the cloakroom, came out with Edrina’s coat and bonnet and briskly prepared the child for the journey home. For good measure, she wrapped the quilt around Edrina again, too.
“There,” she said, with a slight smile.
Clay put his hat back on—he’d left it on a peg next to the door, coming in—and hoisted Edrina, quilt and all, into his arms. As he’d done with Harriet, leaving the mercantile, he tried to cover her with his coat, as well.
“You’re sure there’s nowhere you’d like to go?” he asked Miss Alvira, before opening the door. “To the hotel, maybe? There’re bound to be some folks around, and I could walk you over—”
The schoolmarm gave a little sniff and hiked up her chin again. “Marshal,” she said, putting a point on the word, “as I’ve already told you, I am quite capable of looking after myself, and besides, I wouldn’t think of spending good money on a hotel room.”
“All right, then,” Clay said, with a slight smile and a nod of farewell.
He followed his own quickly disappearing boot prints back to Dara Rose’s front door, shoulders braced against the wind, his arms tight around the little girl tucked in the folds of that old quilt.
A lamp burned in the center of Dara Rose’s kitchen table, and the house was not only blessedly warm, but there was something savory simmering on the stove.
Her face lit up at their return, and even though Clay knew most of that joy was for Edrina, he basked in the welcome, anyway. And Chester was just about beside himself, he was so happy to see Clay.
“You’ll stay for supper,” Dara Rose informed Clay briskly, once he’d set Edrina down, and then she commenced to unwinding that now-damp quilt from around the little girl.
Clay just stood there for a long moment, in his snowy duster and his wet hat, waiting for his bones and sinews to thaw and just enjoying the sight of her. Dara Rose’s aquamarine eyes were bright and her cheeks