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“It wouldn’t need to be a real marriage. It can just be a piece of paper between us. All I need is someone for the baby.”
Jake made his words even clearer. “You’ll be able to get it annulled in the spring if you want.”
He’d do whatever she wanted in that regard.
Elizabeth stood there looking sad. “I just buried my husband. I don’t need another one.”
“I can make you a marker for that grave if you agree to help me. We can get a good-sized piece of granite sent down from Fort Benton. It’ll last forever.”
Elizabeth was looking at him now.
“I could carve your daughter’s name on it for you.”
Elizabeth just stood there, blinking. “Don’t cry,” Jake said.
“I never cry,” Elizabeth whispered and then took a deep breath. “You have yourself a deal.”
Now it was Jake’s turn to be surprised into silence. Being married, even temporarily, to a woman with eyes like that couldn’t be all bad. He’d just have to think of ways to keep her happy until she decided to leave.
MILLS & BOON
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JANET TRONSTAD
grew up on a small farm in central Montana. One of her favorite things to do was to visit her grandfather’s bookshelves, where he had a large collection of Zane Grey novels. She’s always loved a good story. Today Janet lives in Pasadena, California, where she is a full-time writer.
Calico Christmas at Dry Creek
Janet Tronstad
In the beginning of time, it was said that
“…God created man in his own image,
in the image of God created he him…”
This was written in the Holy Bible,
the book of Genesis,
the second chapter, and the twenty-seventh verse.
And then, many generations later,
it was also said that
“God made me an Indian.”
This was spoken by
Chief Sitting Bull
Lakota Medicine Man
1831–1890
This book is dedicated with love to my grandfather,
Harold Norris, who loved nothing better than
a good western novel. I wish he were alive to read
this book.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Epilogue
Chapter One
Fort Keogh, Montana Territory, 1879
Elizabeth O’Brian heard voices outside her tent and thought it must be Mr. Miller coming to see if she was dead yet. It was a cold November day and she’d been sitting in her tent for eleven days now in this desolate land. It had only taken her husband, Matthew, and their baby, a few days to die from the fever so Elizabeth couldn’t fault the blacksmith for being impatient.
“Mrs. O’Brian,” a man’s voice called in the distance.
Elizabeth ignored the voice. Mr. Miller knew she was still waiting for the fever to come upon her. He would just have to be patient a little longer. It wasn’t as easy to die as it looked.
She supposed he was nervous because she was so close to the fort. No one had thought her tent would be here for this long. She had used the canvas from her wagon to make a tent in this slight ravine that stood a good fifty feet east of the mud-chinked logs that made up most of the buildings at Fort Keogh.
The canvas stretched from the back of her wagon to the only tree here, a squat cottonwood that had looked tired even before she’d tied her rope to it. She had made sure the tree put her far enough away from the fort to prevent the influenza from striking anyone there while at the same time still being close enough that Mr. Miller wouldn’t have to walk far when he came to bury her.
The fort was a noisy, smelly place and Elizabeth wanted to die the way she had lived, quietly and alone.
“Mrs. O’Brian,” the same man’s voice called out. He was closer now.
She
