Free Mistletoe Courtship by Janet Tronstad Page A

survived, but his hands were burned badly. He went to the best doctors, but when his hands healed there were deep scars. He could still play, but it was no longer the same. He’d lost some of his movement. Another student replaced him in the concert tour and there was no more talk of Europe.”
    There was silence for a moment and then Colter realized something. “I’m so sorry. It must have been terrifying for you—with the fire here,” he said. “Just remembering what happened with your father.”
    â€œI did not even think of it.” Virginia looked up at him ruefully. “I was too upset about someone burning down your building when I was supposed to be protecting it.”
    Colter felt the vise’s grip around his heart tighten. “I’d never want you to risk getting hurt to save any building of mine. Promise me you won’t do anything like that. Just get yourself and the children outside and call for help.”
    He’d rather lose everything he owned than to have her try to fight another fire by herself. How terrible it would be if she burned her hands. Or worse. She could have died if that kerosene fire had had more time to burn before she noticed it. What if she had been asleep upstairs?
    â€œMaybe you should get a room at the boardinghouse,” Colter said. “I’m sitting guard, but a fire—I’d pay for the room, of course.”
    â€œI have money. Besides, I couldn’t leave without the children. And it’s too late tonight to get a room at the boardinghouse anyway.”
    â€œWe’ll look into it tomorrow then. For you and the children, too.”
    â€œWe don’t even know if the person who set the fire is still in town,” Virginia said. “Besides, my father—he wouldn’t want me to be a coward. He was quite strong on that point.”
    Colter noticed that Virginia had started rubbing her hands when she talked about her father. Maybe she was just beginning to realize the damage the fire yesterday could have done as well.
    â€œIt must have been frustrating for your father not to have the use of his hands,” he probed further.
    â€œYes, it was hard. He missed so much,” Virginia agreed.
    By now all the joy had drained out of Virginia’s face. The pleasure she’d had in playing her music had gone still.
    â€œMaybe it was hard for you, too,” he guessed.
    Virginia looked up at him as if she was surprised at his question. “Yes, but it was different. He’d lost the place that was to be his. It was only hard for me because I couldn’t give him what he wanted. I knew he wanted that place to be mine. He’d trained me for that since I was a small girl. But I was never good enough. I used to think I was when I played in a room alone looking out at the trees, but when someone else was there—my fingers just didn’t work right.”
    Colter nodded. “I’ve seen the same thing with men who want to be gunfighters. When a man’s alone with a tin can, it seems easy. But it takes some getting used to pulling a trigger when someone else is around.”
    He could see by the shocked expression on her face that he’d picked a bad example.
    â€œAll I mean to say,” he said quickly, “is that you might just have needed some time to get used to the people listening. I’ve given up guns, just so you know. I did that even before I bought the saloon here. And then when I walked forward in church—well, I’m not planning to go back to living by my guns.”
    â€œI’m glad,” Virginia said simply.
    By then the milk was steaming in the pan and Colter reached over with the towel he’d been holding to pull the pan to the side of the stove. Then he stepped over to the cupboard and broughtdown two clean cups. He poured the milk into the cups and Virginia put the chocolate in it.
    â€œIt must have been hard for you to lose your father,”