Frontier Inferno
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Frontier Inferno
Copyright © 2014 by Kate Richards
ISBN: 978-1-61333-682-3
Cover art by Mina Carter
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work, in whole or in part, in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.
Published by Decadent Publishing Company, LLC
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One Night on the Beach
Avalon for Christmas
A 1Night Stand Series
The Virgin and the Playboy
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Two Men and a Virgin
Gale Force Passion
Trail of Hearts
Madame Eve’s Gift
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Virgin Underground
Two Dads for Christmas
The Edge
The Milkman Cometh
Frontier Inferno
The Calendar Men Series
By
Kate Richards
~Dedication~
To all the fabulous authors who wrote for this series and especially JoAnne Kenrick who came up with the idea. It’s an honor to share the Calendar Men with you.
Heather swung down from the train and cast a glance around the small—no, tiny—station. A building no bigger than a large outhouse held a sign marked
Stationmaster
, but another hung in the window indicating he—or she—was away until further notice. A loud rumble of thunder shook the ground, rattling the platform under her feet. A good omen or bad?
“We don’t have a stationmaster right now.”
Heather spun to find a little boy of six or seven clutching a paper bag brimming with groceries and staring up at her with a serious expression. “I beg your pardon?”
“I said, nobody works here. Not in April, anyway.” His blond hair stuck up at odd angles and he wore a denim jacket that hung to his knees and brushed the tops of dusty boots. “Nobody gets off the train, usually, except people who live here.” His wide blue eyes never blinked. “You don’t live here.”
“No, no I don’t.” At least, not yet. When she’d seen the article in a travel magazine about towns along the new leg of the railroad in the Alaskan wilderness, she’d never considered she’d arrive in spring. Or that it would be a problem if she did. Biting her lip, she thought about hopping back into the car and traveling on, but would farther north be an improvement? Each stop presented a smaller town, fewer buildings—fewer enticements.
For all she knew, the next stop might be an actual outhouse with no town whatsoever. She shrugged her pack higher on her back and looked around again, but the single street held not one person. “Does anyone live here?”
He rolled his eyes. “Lots of people. I do. And Mrs. Magee. She’s my teacher. And Mr. Harvey in the hardware store. And my dad, of course.”
The row of wooden storefronts lining the street loomed dull and depressing under the leaden sky, unlike the brightly painted station with its deep blue walls and red roof. The train line was supposed to be bringing lots of new people to this distant part of the forty-ninth state. Would there be any employment here? Heather couldn’t live for long on the money she’d brought.
She zipped her hoodie and shivered. “And your mother,” she murmured. “Don’t forget her.”
“No.”
“What?” She snapped her attention back to the boy.
“No, my mother doesn’t live here. She’s gone.” His matter-of-fact tone belied the seriousness of his pronouncement.
Panicked, Heather searched for a way to undo the damage. “I’m sorry.” An only child, she’d never spent much time with kids younger than herself and this conversation was already the longest she’d had with a young person in years. And she’d probably reminded him of a great tragedy.
“Billy!” A deep voice preceded the appearance of a tall figure at the end of the street. “Billy, we need to get on the road soon.”
“Oops, that’s my dad. I have to go.” Her new friend flashed a gap-toothed smile. “Nice to meet you.” He ran toward the man, who tousled his hair, and together they disappeared into one of the shops.
Heather shook her head and, with no better plan, followed her new friend. Behind her, the train let out a wail and chugged away from the station. She had to stay now…at least until another train came through, whenever that might be. As she moved past a gift shop, fishing gear store, and an art gallery featuring
Work by Local Artists
—most of the windows dim, few of the businesses open—the likelihood of finding a job began to fade. Perhaps, in summer, when people came to fish and hike…or even in winter when, according to the article, tourists flew in to take advantage of the snow sports, the miles of snow machine trails and cross-country skiing, the spectacular holiday celebrations at the Lodge….
The clouds deepened and fear of being caught in a downpour sped her steps toward the light emanating from the hardware store where Billy and his dad were probably stocking up on nails or rope or whatever Alaskans needed in springtime. The threatening storm might offer rain to keep down the dust currently rising around her feet and coating her shoes. Where was all the snow, or at least slush, she’d expected to find?
The brightly lit building offered shelter as well as a cheer not evident elsewhere in town. A gust of icy wind swirled around her and, grasping the door handle, she ducked inside, shivering and grateful for the heat from the potbelly stove in a corner.
No wonder they call Alaska the Last Frontier. Do they even have indoor plumbing in this town?
Billy sat on a stool by the opposite corner, swinging his feet and watching two men dig through a series of drawers set into the wall. “Hi, lady.” He hopped down and came over. “Do you need to buy nails, too?”
The pair of bearded, muscular men turned to face her. No question which was Billy’s dad. While both were tall, the one on the left had the same big blue eyes and blond hair as the little boy, although the father’s short beard was a wash of gold over his chin. Although they each had high cheekbones, the resemblance stopped there. No child ever had such broad shoulders, and his dad’s flannel button-down hung open over a white cotton T-shirt that didn’t hide prominent abs, and jeans molded to thighs the likes of which nobody she’d ever met could compete with.
They grow them hot in Alaska
. At least she thought so, until he spoke.
“So you’re the lady who got off the train.” Pure Aussie flooded the syllables. “Do you have people here?”
His accent melted her. Heather closed the door behind her and approached him, drawn as if by a magnet to his side. “No, no people.”
“Then you must be staying at the Castle Lodge.” He frowned. “Sam, can you give the resort a call? I don’t know why the shuttle didn’t meet the train. It’s not like them to miss picking up a guest.”
Even off-season, any place labeled resort was sure to be expensive. “Oh, no…I am not here on vacation. But I do need somewhere to stay. I thought I could find work and maybe a rooming house or something.” They had those in this kind of town, didn’t they? The hardware man froze, his hand on the phone, and gaped at her.
“Well…we don’t expect tourists until late May, so nothing’s open yet, and that includes the Black Bear Motel and the hostel. The only available rooms in April are at the Lodge. Even up there, they’re on a skeleton staff at this season, but the rest of the employees will already be lined up for summer.”
She patted her pocket where her alarmingly thin wallet sat. “Nothing at all?” If she couldn’t find work, she’d have to use the last bit of money to take the train back down to Anchorage and…and everything would fall apart from there, her careful plans come to naught.
“I think there is one job open.” Sam lifted a stack of thick woolen blankets from one shelf and moved it to another, then grabbed a feather duster and whisked it over the empty space. “But it probably isn’t anything you want.”
Her heart lurched. “What? I’ll do anything.”
Billy’s dad chuckled. “If it’s the job I think it is, I believe, Miss…Ms…. I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name. I’m Chris Elder and this is Sam Harvey who runs the hardware store we couldn’t get by without. And you’ve met my son, Billy.”
“Please call me Heather. And Billy welcomed me to town, yes.”
She couldn’t imagine what position they might think she wouldn’t want. Of course, they didn’t know the measure of her desperation. And how bad could a hotel job be? Housekeeping? Bussing tables? Heck, she’d scrub pots and pans in the kitchen if necessary. “About the Lodge; should I see anyone special up there? Oh,” a thought occurred to her, “how do I get there?” There wouldn’t be a bus, and she hadn’t seen anything like a cab parked at the tiny station. The hotel might not send their guest shuttle for someone begging for work.
“That’s not a problem. I have to head right past it on the way to my place. If you like, we’ll be done here in a few minutes, and we can give you a lift. Right, Billy?”
“Right, Dad.” The adorable blond bobbed his head. “And we can show you everything on the way.”
Asking the potential employer to send a shuttle to pick her up wouldn’t make the best impression. With no other option—and a real interest in ogling Chris a little longer—what did she have to lose? A sexy, clean-cut guy with his small child, a man well-known in town, wasn’t the type she imagined would kidnap her.
A small hand stole into hers. “Did I tell you my dad is a fireman?”
Ohhh…talk about dreamboat guys with dreamboat jobs
.
“And he jumps out of airplanes,
and
his picture is on a calendar.”
Heather refocused on his father, taking in his impressive physique one more time. “I can imagine that.”
Chris’s cheeks reddened under her scrutiny. “It’s for charity.”
He hadn’t dated much since Billy’s mom bailed on them and ran home to her indulgent—and wealthy—father in Sydney. Her abandonment made Chris’s decision to stay on after training with the Castle Smokejumpers easy. But the new girl in town could turn heads, even his. He couldn’t stop sneaking peeks at Heather’s exotic green cats’ eyes and nifty gold-and-brown streaked hair falling around her shoulders.
Nifty
. Sounded like something Billy would say. But Chris’s interest in her went far beyond a child’s.
What was her story? Everyone had one, at least everyone who arrived in downtown Castle with any intention of staying. After they piled into the front seat of his ancient Ford pickup, with Billy in the middle, Chris started the engine—and the grilling.
“So, Heather, what did you say your last name was again?”
The old truck choked and roared and raised a cloud of dust on the main street. She leaned out the window, far enough he had to fight the urge to grab her by her shiny locks and jerk her back. Not that she might fall out or anything; it just sounded fun. And drove his attention to an area of his life he’d ignored for far too long. How would such a sweet woman be in his bed? Her curves and less-than-fussy appearance appealed to him where he never again wanted to connect with someone like Diana. His ex would never have appeared in public without perfect makeup and an outfit to die for, no matter the expense or inconvenience. She’d never belonged on an Alaskan homestead. Bringing her with him when he came for a six-month smokejumping program had been the kiss of death for their shaky relationship.