Mail-Order Millionaire Read Online Free

so-called inheritance. “I was thinking more about his age.”  Now it was his turn to say….
    “He’s only thirty-two,” the man said. “And he’s in good shape, so I don’t see him retiring any time soon.”
    “Oh, no, of course not.” She took a deep breath and gathered her courage. “But it must be hard on wives being separated from their husbands. . .”
    Fred nodded vigorously. “You can say that again. My wife doesn’t even want me driving up there, for fear I might get stuck and not get down, especially now— Is that the phone?”
    He turned and disappeared into the small concrete structure that housed the station. Miranda opened the door to the tractor and climbed in. She put the box in the back of the vehicle, and then, unable to resist, sat on the comfortable padded seat, pushing the gas pedal and working the gearshift through its four positions. As soon as she had the money, she’d get her tractor fixed, before summer, if possible, so she could put in some barley.
    She looked up to see Fred knocking frantically on the windshield. “Oh, miss, I’ve got to go. My wife’s in labor. Could you just slide the keys in the ashtray?”
    Miranda opened the side window to answer, but he was gone. Somewhere in the distance she heard a car start, wheels squeal and then she saw him drive past her, waving with one hand and steering with the other. For several moments she sat staring out the windshield at the mountains in front of her. She’d been driving tractors since she was fifteen, but never a Sno-Cat. She’d always wanted to drive one, but never had the chance. She had no doubt she could drive it on open flat ground, but up a snow-covered mountain road?
    She could see there were markers on either side of the road, and she wouldn’t run into any traffic. On the other hand she had fulfilled her responsibility. She’d delivered the boots to the ranger station. It wasn’t her fault if the ranger had a more important delivery to attend to. Max Carter couldn’t blame her this time. Or could he?
    She looked at the boxes behind her in the cab. Cartons of groceries, and a shoe box full of mail. No packages from Green Mountain. Where were all those boots? Was it true he was running out of supplies? Was he irritable because he was hungry? Miranda pressed her hand against her stomach and heard it growl in sympathy.
    She turned the key in the ignition and the engine roared to life. Her pulse quickened. It might be her only chance to ever drive a Sno-Cat. She’d deliver the goods and come right back down, and she’d still be home this evening. Fred would understand. He might have even suggested it if he hadn’t left so suddenly. And Maxwell Carter would be grateful to her for life. She’d not only save him from wet feet, but she’d also save him from starvation.
    She smiled to herself and eased the big tractor onto the steep road. The wide cleats gripped firmly and she took the first turn with ease. She laughed aloud. This was fun. She took the next turn and the next, hardly noticing the small wisps of fog that swirled by the windows.
    With one final roar, she reached the summit and saw a small concrete building built on a platform above her. She cut the engine and jumped out, so flushed with exhilaration she scarcely realized that the fog was thicker now, cold and damp and blowing in her face.
    The dark form of a man came toward her, shouting Fred’s name.
    “I’m not Fred,” she shouted back.
    He loomed over her, a shock of dark blond hair blown across his forehead, and gripped her tightly by the arms. “Get inside. We’ll get the boxes later.’’
    She shook her head and her teeth chattered. “I can’t stay. I’m going back.”
    He pulled her toward the building, now barely visible in the icy fog. “No, you’re not. Whoever you are, you’re not leaving.”
    Miranda was never sure how she got up the stairs to the one-room observation tower, but she knew she’d never been happier to be inside