“This isn’t Mistletoe Falls?”
“No, Ma’am. This here is Angel Creek. Mistletoe Falls is further up the mountain.” He turned and pointed into the distance. “That old trail is too treacherous for the stagecoach this time of year, so I reckon someone will be along to fetch ya any minute now.”
Angel exhaled an exhausted breath. This wasn’t the end of the line. She leaned back against the station wall and tried not to let her disappointment show.
She’d lost count of all the stagecoaches they’d ridden since getting off the steamboat that brought them upriver. When they stopped in town and the stagecoach driver unloaded their bags, she hoped this was the end of her journey because she was too bone-tired to go much further.
Her sisters looked as exhausted as she felt. They’d had little sleep the past few days, and it was wearing on them all.
Belle and Holly were giving the town a thorough inspection from their spot on the sidewalk, and she pushed off the wall and joined them.
“This is… different.” The little town of Angel Creek was quaint. Was this what Mistletoe Falls looked like? She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting when she left Savannah, but this wasn’t it.
The town was small by Savannah’s standards but was still bustling with activity. People were everywhere, with carts and wagons passing by the stagecoach station and stores and businesses on every corner. What she didn’t see was her groom.
Harold Tate, the sheriff in Mistletoe Falls and the man she’d agreed to marry, was nowhere to be found. Her gaze slid to the local sheriff’s office.
She’d had reservations when she noticed Harold’s occupation. Marrying a lawman came with complications most didn’t have to deal with. The main one being: would constant danger be knocking on their door? And if so, would she end up a widow in the near future?
Her sisters were now searching for their own grooms. Like her own soon-to-be husband, they were nowhere to be found, either. Surely the three of them hadn’t been forgotten.
Don’t be silly. They’re just late, that’s all. If the pass to Mistletoe Falls is treacherous, then they’re all just behind schedule.
She hoped.
Nervousness about the changes her life was about to take had her questioning every decision she’d made over the last several months. The first of which was listening to Holly—and taking Uncle Reginald’s house money—and stealing away in the dead of night like fugitives. But the alternative hadn’t been acceptable either.
Her uncle had promised her hand to a man old enough to be her grandfather, and living on a stately plantation did nothing to excuse the fact that if she’d stayed in Georgia, she’d be married to an old man by now. Her sisters as well. Her uncle had found them all husbands, and none of them were acceptable. She just hoped her new groom was.
Commotion down the street drew her gaze. A wagon barreled through town and nearly ran two men over as it headed toward the livery stable beside the stagecoach station. The man holding the reins pulled hard, yelling, “Whoa,” as the horses reared up, then stopped and stomped in place. They snorted great clouds of white steam into the frigid air and danced in place as if stopping were some wild inconvenience.
The man looked over at them. Their eyes met and held long enough for her pulse to leap due to his boldness. He finally looked away, wrapped the reins around the brake lever in his hand, and jumped to the ground. The livery stable owner, Willy, as he’d introduced himself, smiled at the newcomer and shook his hand.
“It’s about time,” she overheard Willie say. “I’ve been holding on to all the stuff you ordered for weeks now and wasn’t sure if you were ever going to come and claim it.”
“I’m sorry, Willy. It’s been a crazy few months, and it’s been hard to get away. If I didn’t have business in town today, you’d still be holding it.”
The men laughed before the newcomer turned his head their way. His gaze landed on her again, then darted to her sisters, then returned. Was this one of their grooms?
She crossed her fingers that he was hers. He was handsome and shallow or not, for that reason alone, she’d forgive the fact that he had a dangerous occupation.
When he said something to Willy again, and the man nodded, the handsome stranger headed their way, her heart stuttering as he closed the distance between them.
From a distance, he looked like a dream come true. She’d read dime novels about dashing pirate captains, and this man fit the description. His dark hair was longer than most men she knew, the ends brushing his shoulders. A shadow beard darkened his jaw, and his light blue eyes contrasted nicely with his dark features.
He walked as if in some great hurry, and her fanciful thoughts had her imagining him sweeping her off her feet, literally, and riding off into the sunset. Or rather, snow. She hadn’t seen the actual sun in days; it stayed hidden behind the clouds.
He stopped in front of them and said nothing other than, “Which one of you is Angel Bishop?”
Her heart thumped. Hard. Her breath caught, and she bit her lip to keep from smiling like a loon.
She swallowed the lump forming in her throat and clutched her reticule. “I’m Angel,” she said, speaking up. “Are you Harold Tate?”
He gave her a once-over from head to toe, and something in his eyes made her pulse race. He straightened when he met her gaze. “No, Ma’am. I’m Garrett Carter. Harold sent me to pick you up. He’s out of town on business at the moment.”
“Oh.” She smiled, a strange pinch making her chest ache, and she hoped the disappointment didn’t show on her face.
He glanced at their things. “Which of those bags is yours?”
She pointed them out and watched silently as he picked them up with such ease that she wondered if they might have been empty. He carried them back to his wagon as if they weighed nothing at all, and Angel only stirred when Belle elbowed her and said, “Your mouth is hanging open.”
* * *
Coward wasn’t a word he’d ever associate with himself, but Garrett felt like one as he hurried to secure Angel’s bags in the wagon.
His mind had been a riot of thoughts since Harold asked him to pick up his future bride, the main one being: who was this woman who agreed to move into the middle of nowhere and marry a man most didn’t think would ever get married?
The second being… how did Harold get so lucky that Angel Bishop answered his ad?
He’d noticed her the moment he pulled the horses to a stop. He’d raced into Angel Creek to pick up the supplies everyone had asked for—and to escort Harold’s bride back to Mistletoe Falls—and seeing those three ladies standing by the stagecoach station had given him pause. They weren’t the frumpy spinsters he’d expected. No, those southern belles would look out of place in Mistletoe Falls. They were too lovely for such an isolated place, especially Angel Bishop. She’d nearly taken his breath away when he saw her. In his opinion, she was by far the prettiest of the brides. She was fine-boned and delicate and simply too good for Harold Tate on his best day.
Since Herman Crooks told him mail-order brides were coming into town, he’d wondered what sort of woman would agree to such a thing. He knew more than a few men in Angel Creek had taken brides they’d found through ads placed in that periodical they kept at the mercantile, but he hadn’t thought anyone from Mistletoe Falls had done the same. Just showed he didn’t know everything that happened in town, as he thought he did.
He turned to Harold’s bride when he finished securing her things. She was still watching him and blushed when he caught her staring. She twirled on one heel and turned back to her sisters, and he knew he’d be in serious trouble if he wasn’t careful. Falling for a woman who looked like that would be easy. Too easy.
He headed back around the wagon and stopped a few feet away. “Are you ready to go, Miss Bishop? I have a few more stops to make before we head back up the mountain.”
She looked over her shoulder at him and nodded, then turned back to her sisters. If he had to guess, he’d say they were exchanging a tearful goodbye, and he let them do so in private as he went to help Willy load the supplies he’d ordered.
Angel was waiting by the wagon when he finished, and once he’d helped her into the buckboard wagon, he hurried across town to the mercantile and told her to “sit tight” while he ran in and grabbed the other things he’d needed.
By the time they were on the road out of town, the sun was sinking behind the mountain, and he knew his day was shot. It wasn’t all bad, though. The woman at his side smelled of wildflowers and was prettier up close than she had looked from a distance.
Harold was a lucky man, all right. He was a hard individual to deal with most days, but once he saw his new bride, he had no doubt he’d change his ways quick like. Keeping a woman like her happy would take time and patience, and he wasn’t sure Harold could provide either.
For her sake, he hoped he was wrong.
* * *
Were the tears in her eyes from sadness because she’d been separated from her sisters or fear of the unknown? More than likely, it was a little of both.
For some reason, Angel had expected to arrive in Mistletoe Falls with her sisters, not be separated from them before they even got there, and saying goodbye to them had been horrible.
They’d been inseparable their whole lives. To leave them standing there felt so… final. She tried to tell herself that she’d see them again. They were going to be living in the same town, but riding away with them and waving to her had left her numb.
Now, instead of their reassuring presence, she was heading up the mountain with a total stranger in a buckboard wagon filled with whatever was in those wooden crates sitting alongside her bags, and with every step the horses took, she wondered if she should have stayed in Savannah. Henry Rawlings had been old, but he’d been rich and lived in a grand home that would have been hers had she not let Holly talk her into running away with her.
Now she sat next to a man so handsome he nearly took her breath, but he hadn’t said a single word to her since they left Angel Creek. As far as she knew, he hadn’t even looked at her. It was as if she didn’t even exist.
Misery settled on her shoulders like a great weight. It caused her heart to ache, and the further up the mountain they went, and the more silent he remained, the worse her misery grew.
She watched the snow-covered trail until she was nearly snow-blind, then closed her eyes when she started to see spots. She kept them closed then, and had nearly nodded off to sleep, when the wagon suddenly slid, the wheels losing traction, and she let out a startled shriek as Garrett shouted a curse that would have offended her had she not been so frightened.
He reached out toward her, his arm flattening across her chest, and she wondered what he was doing until he clenched her cloak in his fist and pushed her back against the bench, holding her in place.
When the wagon slowed, the skid they’d been in all but disappearing, he lowered his arm, and she remembered to breathe.
“Are you alright?”
Angel blinked and nodded, her hand coming up to clutch her cloak’s clasp. “Yes, I think so.”
Garrett stared at her for a few moments before prodding the horses to continue, but they moved much more slowly now.
“That was my fault,” he said. “I shouldn’t have been in such a hurry.” He ran a hand over his face, then pulled a small pocket watch from somewhere in his coat and looked at it. His expression told her he wasn’t happy, but he never said much.
He glanced her way again, and her pulse did that silly little dance it did every time he looked at her. He was handsome, and his blue eyes seemed to devour her until she felt breathless and looked away.
The silence was more stressful than being alone with a strange man, so she gathered her courage and cleared her throat. “So, Mr. Carter, what is it exactly you do?” She glanced over her shoulder at all the crates he was hauling.
“You can call me Garrett, and to answer your question, a little of everything. I run the stagecoach station, but only part-time. The stagecoach can’t make it this far up the mountain this time of year, so winter is the only break I get from that.”
He readjusted his hat and glanced at her. “I tend to the livery stable in Mistletoe Falls daily, though. And handle any blacksmith work that anyone needs, and have been known to rent out a room and dish up a bowl of stew at the stagecoach station when someone is in need.”
“Is there anything in town you don’t do?”
He smiled for the first time, and Angel was reminded once again how handsome he was. “Not much. I don’t own any of the main businesses I tend to; the town does, but I see to them and make sure they’re open for business, and until someone comes in and fills those positions, there’s no one else to do it but me.” He shrugged. “I never try to label my job, as I never know what it’ll be on any given day.”
“Sounds like you’re a jack of all trades.”
He nodded, his lips quirking up to one side. “I suppose I am.”
Thinking of occupations, her soon-to-be husbands came to mind. A lawman led a dangerous life, didn’t they? She assumed they would have to deal with outlaws and bandits all the time, but maybe Mistletoe Falls was small enough that he didn’t have to worry too much about such things.
“What kept Mr. Tate from coming to get me in Angel Creek?”
Garrett readjusted his hat. “I’m not exactly sure. The sheriff from Angel Creek came to town a few days ago and asked for his help with something. He said he wouldn’t be gone long, so he should be home soon.”
Garrett didn’t say anything after that, nor did he try to keep the conversation going. Did his silence mean he didn’t wish to speak to her? She took it as such and studied the scenery instead of trying to talk to him.
The trees gave way to an open area, offering her a view of the valley below. A winding stream glistened in the sun as it wound through the trees below them.
The mountains in the distance seemed to stretch into the sky, and she could see for miles. It was honestly quite breathtaking. “It’s so beautiful.”
“I’ll agree.”
She turned her head to look at him, and he was looking at her, not the scenery. Was he referring to her? Her face went hot, blushing in pleasure at the possibility.
Despite the surrounding beauty, it was so cold her hands felt half-frozen, even with all the blankets Garrett had piled on top of her, but she was so enthralled with the view she didn’t mind much.
Her first glimpse of Mistletoe Falls made her breath catch. It wasn’t nearly as large as Angel Creek, but it looked just as rustic. Several wooden buildings lined the dirt road, and Garrett waved at a few people who looked their way.
He pulled the wagon to a stop by a building next to a large stable, set the brake, and jumped down. He turned to her and held up a hand. “Welcome to Mistletoe Falls, Angel Bishop.” He gave her a smile that made her pulse leap. “Come on. I’ll help you down.”
Their eyes met, and once again her face heated. Why did he make her so nervous and blush like a schoolgirl? She’d only ever felt that way once, but that short infatuation hadn’t lasted more than a season. But this felt different. Her heart raced every time she caught him looking at her, and she wished again he’d been her groom instead of Harold Tate. It would have taken no time at all to give him her heart.
Angel took Garrett’s offered hand and carefully stepped down, thanking him when she got her feet underneath her. The building they stopped in front of had a large wooden shingle above the door that read Stagecoach Station. So this is one of the businesses Garrett tended to.
He turned to grab her bags from the back of the wagon, and she went to the building’s window. The interior was dark and cold, but she could see a few tables scattered around the room.
“There’s not much to see in there at the moment, but come spring, it’ll be busy.”
Garrett held her bags as if they weighed nothing and motioned across the street. “Harold’s place is the one beside the jail.”
She turned and spotted the jail. A huge sign across the top of the building read “Sheriff’s Office.” And as Garrett had said, a wooden cabin sat close to its side.
Angel inhaled a breath. Her new home looked small from here. Not that it mattered.
Garrett started across the road, and she followed him, smiling at those she passed when they looked at her.
A small window in the front of the jail showed her nothing but a darkened interior, and the little cabin her future husband called home was just as dark and cold when she stepped inside.
Only a thin shaft of light shone through the door, giving her a brief glimpse of the place. What she could see of it was disheartening. The entire cabin wasn’t even as big as her room back at Uncle Reginald’s, and she was supposed to share it with another person. They’d be stepping on each other’s toes every day.
Garrett set her bags down at the foot of the bed and hurried to a fireplace on the left-hand wall. He had a fire blazing in a few minutes, and the flames lit the space enough to see, and her earlier disappointment grew.
The cabin lacked in every way. The bed had nothing but a thin blanket. A small table with two chairs sat near the window by the door, and a large trunk sat in the corner.
A tall dresser sat beside the trunk with a bowl and pitcher sitting on top. A shelf on the wall held a few pots and pans, but she didn’t see a cook stove. Did Harold cook on an open fire? She hoped not. She’d burn every meal she cooked for him if he did.
Despite the cabin’s small size, it looked well-lived-in. Clothes draped across a chair at the table, and the scent of wood smoke and gun oil perfumed the air. It could use a woman’s touch. And a good cleaning.
Garrett straightened from where he’d been crouched to light the fire. “Harold should be back in a day or two. He said to charge anything you needed to his account at the mercantile.”
She set her reticule down on the table. “Thank you for seeing me into town.”
“It was my pleasure, Miss Bishop.”
“Angel,” she said. “You may call me Angel.”
“Angel, it is.” He tipped his hat and saw himself out, looking back at her as he pulled the door shut. The moment she was alone, her bones felt as if they were made of straw, and she barely made it to the bed before collapsing.
She stared at the fire as it blazed, the entire trip coming back to her in small flashes of images playing inside her head, and for reasons she didn’t want to think about, the one thing that stuck out the most was meeting Garrett Carter.