by Hebby Roman
“You're looking good enough to eat—like a Christmas cake with icing.”
She smiled and dipped into a curtesy. “I will take that as a compliment, kind sir.”
He pointed over her head. “See that?”
“You mean the mistletoe?”
“Yep, now it's Christmas.”
“Yes, it is.”
He lowered his head and captured her mouth. His lips were warm and soft and tasted like heaven. Why, oh why, had she ever refused him?
Fitting her mouth to his, she wrapped her arms around his waist. And then the heat began, slow and simmering. Her blood warmed and curled through her veins, slow and sweet as honey. Her breasts peaked and ached. And lower, lower, she wanted him, wanted him in that most complete sense between a man and a woman…forever more.
He lifted his head, breaking their kiss and gazing into her eyes. “Marry me, Abby.” He nuzzled her neck. “Marry me, please.”
“Clint, I have to tell you something. I should have told you before, while Kevin was ill, but it wasn't the right time.” She drew herself up and looked into his eyes. “I love you, Clint. I had to tell you because I didn't know if I could ever love again.” She lowered her eyes. “But I do, Clint. I love you,” she repeated.
“That's good enough for me, Abby.” He grabbed her around the waist and spun her around. He threw back his head and laughed. Then he calmed and set her on her own feet. He swiped his face with his hand. “How soon can we marry?”
“Oh, Clint, are you certain you want me? I carry a heavy load from before—”
“I don't care. I've my own demons to wrestle with.” He brushed her lips. “We'll wrestle them together and—”
“Ma?” Kevin's falsetto voice called to her. She heard footsteps and pulled away.
“Oh, Ma, I didn't know you and the Sheriff were spooning.” He covered his mouth and giggled. “There's someone here to see you.” Kevin hitched a thumb over his shoulder.
Who could it be on Christmas Eve? Most of the boarders had gone to spend Christmas with family or friends.
“Not spooning, Kevin, we were just—”
“Well, if that ain't special now,” the mocking voice carried from the kitchen doorway.
Lucas! She would have known his voice anywhere.
Her long-absent husband elbowed his way past Kevin and stood in the foyer. He looked the same, except deeper lines bracketed his mouth, his straggly hair looked greasier than ever, and his eyes appeared unfocused, as if he'd been drinking.
“I don't know who you are, Mister, but I'd appreciate it if you'd unhand my wife.” Lucas demanded with a sneer.
Clint backed up a step but kept his hand on her elbow. “I'm Sheriff Graham, and I assume you're Lucas Sanford.”
“Yep, I'm Mister Sanford to you.”
“Lucas, what are you doing here?” Abigail asked. “It's been six—”
“Don't matter how long it's been, you're still my wife.” His gaze skittered over Kevin, and she knew he'd been drinking. “And I suppose this brat is mine, though he don't look nothing like me.”
Kevin's head jerked up as if he'd been slapped. He turned to her with a question in his brown eyes. “Ma?”
Clint placed his hand on the butt of his pistol. “Well, now, Mister Sanford, it was nice of you to stop by—”
“Shut up, Sheriff.”
Abigail felt Clint tense. He drew himself up, and she could see he was ready to spring.
Clint turned and faced down Sanford. Abigail had gone still and her eyes were wide in her face. Kevin stood between them, his mouth gaping open.
“You're a thief, Sanford. I have a circular on you. You stole several thousand dollars from Mr. Kerr when you lived here.”
“Well, ain't you the smart-ass lawman,” Lucas snarled and moved quickly to grab Kevin around his neck. “And I'd come for a friendly Christmas visit, for a little reunion with my family.” He snorted. “ʻCept you had to mess that up, Sheriff, calling me a thief and all that.”
“Lucas, let go of Kevin,” Abby said, her voice rising. “Why have you come?”
Lucas ignored her question and pulled Kevin tighter, almost strangling him. Kevin
squirmed and struggled, obviously desperate to get away. Lucas cuffed him and tightened his hold until the boy's eyes bulged.
“Sheriff, if'n you don't want nothing to happen to the boy, you best take your hand off your pistol and unbuckle your holster. Let it drop real slow like and kick it and your gun over here.” Lucas pulled his pistol and put the muzzle against Kevin's temple.
“Lucas, don't, please don't hurt him. He's your son.” Abby's voice bordered on hysteria and she twisted her hands.
“Ma, I don't—”
“Shut up, kid.” Lucas dug his fingers into Kevin's windpipe and cocked his pistol. “Sheriff, your gun.”
Slowly and with his mind churning for an opening, he unbuckled his holster, dropped the belt with the gun still in its scabbard, and kicked the holster toward Sanford.
Sanford, in turn, kicked the holster to the other side of the hallway. Too far away for Clint to make a grab for it. He cursed himself under his breath for not being better prepared. For not drawing his gun the minute the low-life, thieving bastard had shown up.
“That's better, Sheriff. Now we can have a little talk without any interference.” He looked at Abby. “And don't think Juan or Elisa will come to help you. I made certain to tie them up before coming in. They weren't too happy to see me, and I didn't want to see them neither.” He spat on the floor.
“All right, Lucas, what do you want?” Abby had lowered her voice and except for her hand plucking at the cameo at her throat, Clint could see she was struggling to keep a tight rein on her fears.
“What do you think I want, now your dear Pa is dead? The money he left you. I want my share.” He snorted. “Hell, I want my share and yours, too. Everything you've got. And I know where the safe is.”
“Father didn't leave me any money, just the house so I could raise Kevin. He left his money to the Presbyterian Church.”
Sanford's head jerked back. “Don't tell me no lies. I know you've got money. Your Pa had bundles of it.”
“Hey, Sanford, I was here when the will was read. What Abby is telling you is true. Her father left his money to the church. Her brothers and sisters were plenty mad about it.”
“Why don't you horn out, Sheriff, this ain't your party.” He leered at Abby and winked at him. “Tell you what, Sheriff, she weren't much use to me in the biblical way, so's you can have her. I just want the money.”
Clint fisted his hands, wishing he could bury them in Sanford's sneering face. Wishing he could wipe the knowing smirk from the man's mouth, once and for all. If only Sanford would loosen his hold on Kevin.
“And if Abby doesn't have any money to give you, what will you do, shoot your own son?” Clint asked.
Sanford stared at him and looked down at the boy. “Nah, I wouldn't shot my own kin, if'n he is mine. I'd just take him with me. Teach him how to be a man.”
Abby lunged forward, her arms outstretched. “Nooo, you can't take him. You can't.”
Sanford tightened his grip on Kevin's neck again and lifted his pistol, aiming it straight at Abby's heart. “Get back, woman. If'n he's my kid, I have a right to him. Ain't that right, Sheriff.”
“Not if you're locked up in prison for stealing,” Clint replied.
“Yeah, well that ain't gonna happen.” He waved the pistol and his brown eyes glittered.
Clint would wager he was more than half drunk. It was a small chink in Sanford's armor, but it was something. At least his reflexes might be slower.
“I know you've got money in the safe. I'll just take what ya got and go. Whatever you have.” He pulled his lips back in the semblance of a smile. “That's my Christmas present to you, woman.”
“And you'll let Kevin go.”
He shook his head. “Not right away. Maybe later, somewhere outsid
e of town. He's my guarantee the Sheriff won't be coming after me anytime soon.” He stared at Clint with his unfocused glare. “Not if'n y'all don't want the kid hurt.”
“But Lucas, you can't take him. It's cold and he's been sick and—”
“Shut up! Quit your whining! You'll do as I say. Now let's get to the study and open the safe and see what you've got for me.” He loosened his hold on Kevin's neck and nudged him. “Get going, kid.”
“I'm not going with you, Mister, and you're not my Pa!” Kevin turned on Sanford and dug his elbow into Sanford's side.
Clint knew there wouldn't be a better time. He made a flying lunge for his gun holster.
Sanford cursed, straightened, and backhanded Kevin. The boy shrieked and went skidding across the floor, cupping his jaw.
Abby rushed to her son's side.
Clint came up with his gun and pointed it at Sanford.
Sanford's gun went off and Clint felt the searing, white-hot pain tear into him. He fired at Sanford, and the man dropped his gun, grabbing his gut and groaning.
“Stay back.” Clint gritted his teeth and clamped his jaw. “Abby and Kevin, keep back until I see if he's still alive.”
“But Clint, you're hit,” Abby said.
“It's just my shoulder. I'll be fine.” With an effort of will, he kept his pistol trained on Sanford. He stumbled to his feet and crossed to the man. Slowly and carefully, with his pistol leveled at the downed man, Clint leaned over and felt for a pulse in Sanford's neck.
He exhaled and lifted his head. “He's dead.”
Abby flew to his side and started tearing her apron into strips. “Kevin, get Doc Rodgers. Tell him the Sheriff took a bullet. Hurry!”
Kevin nodded and took off running, slamming the front door behind him.
“Ah, Abby, I wish, I wish—”
“What do you wish?” She cradled his wounded arm, appalled at the blood seeping from his wound.
“I wish your husband hadn't come and ruined Christmas.”
“Oh, Clint,” she half sobbed. “My poor Clint, I need to bind your shoulder until the doctor gets here.”
“Kiss me first, Abby. Just so I know the nightmare is over.”
Epilogue
Four Months Later
Abigail clasped her bouquet of crimson Indian paintbrush, white primroses, and her favorite Texas wildflower, bluebonnets. She stood at the top of the aisle of the Methodist Church and let her gaze wander over the church.
Leanna was to the left of the altar, serving as her matron of honor. Across from her was Clint, her bridegroom, and Jim, acting as his best man. Paul and his wife, Sarah, sat in the front pew. Will Junior and Viola hadn't been able to come. Elisa and Juan, along with Rosa, sat behind Paul and his wife. All her boarders were here, along with a sprinkling of Clint's rancher friends and new acquaintances from the Methodist Church. Everyone who mattered was here.
She inhaled and swished her long, off-white skirt. She and Elisa had outdone themselves, sewing a beautiful satin wedding gown, liberally overlaid with delicate white lace. She fingered the single strand of pearls at her neck, Clint's Christmas gift to her.
Her gaze rested on her intended. His shoulder had healed and he stood tall and handsome in his new gray, broadcloth suit with a string tie. He smiled at her, his sweet, lop-sided smile.
And the look of awe and pure love in his eyes took her breath away.
It had been so hard, after that terrible Christmas Eve, to not marry Clint right away. But she'd wanted to give Kevin time…time to understand what had happened. Her son had needed to work through his fear and hurt and come to terms with who his father had been. And then move past the sorrow and pain...to a new beginning.
Because in all the most important ways, Clint was Kevin's father, not her late husband.
She held out her arm and said, “Kevin, are you ready?”
“Yes, Ma, I'm ready.” Her son, attired in a miniature version of Clint's suit she and Elena had sewn, stood beside her. He straightened his spine, lifted his chin, and took her arm.
The other handsome man in her life…her son.
Music from the pipe organ swelled, announcing her as the bride and cueing her to start marching down the aisle. The wedding guests stood.
“What are we waiting for, Son?” She curled one hand around Kevin's hand on her arm. “Give your Mama away to Clint…my bridegroom.”
Kevin glanced at her and then at Clint. He grinned. “You bet, Ma!”
***
Thank you for reading A Hard Candy Christmas by Amazon Best-selling author Hebby Roman! Your opinion would be appreciated if you could please post a review at Amazon. If you’d like to read more of Hebby’s books or post other reviews, you can find them on her Amazon Author Page and at her website.
A West Texas Christmas Trilogy Book 2
Let It Be Christmas
Prologue
Del Rio, Texas June, 1896
Abigail Kerr Sanford, now Abigail Graham, put her teacup down and said, “I wish you could stay longer than one night. I was so excited when I got your telegram.”
Lindsay MacKillian gazed at her childhood friend. She took a sip of tea to wet her dry throat. “I wish I could stay more than a night, but I shouldn’t.”
“If you stay a few more days, my husband and son will be back from spring shearing and you can meet them.”
Lindsay wished she could stay, too. Make this a happy reunion, but she’d already alerted her brother she’d be on tomorrow’s passenger train when it stopped in Langtry. Besides, the sooner her brother knew why she’d returned home, the better. But first, she needed to tell someone else. And Abby, a woman, and her only friend this side of the Mississippi, was the obvious choice.
“I’d love to stay, Abby, and I promise to come for a visit and meet your new husband and son. But I telegraphed my brother I’d be home tomorrow, and I’m certain he will ride in from the ranch to meet me.”
“Oh, I’m sure he will. He must have missed you.”
Lindsay wasn’t so certain about that. Most likely, he’d look upon her as an additional responsibility. At least, he’d acted that way when she’d come home four years ago for their father’s funeral. Then, Chadbourne, or Chad, as she called him, had been more than happy to send her back to their aunt, Minerva O’Rourke, in Boston.
And she was certain her Aunt Minnie would eventually telegraph Chad. She hadn’t exactly spelled out the reason for returning home to Texas in the note she’d left, but her aunt was sharp enough to put two-and-two together. The most she could hope for was Aunt Minerva would honor the veiled plea in her note and let her tell Chad in her own way and time.
She wanted to make pleasant conversation with Abby, but her shameful condition preyed on her mind, night and day. She needed to tell Abby first. Not only to unburden her soul but to gauge how bad the reaction might be.
Thinking about what faced her, she let her gaze drop to the large bump in Abby’s lap. “You got remarried this past spring? You and your husband didn’t waste any time.”
Abby’s face flushed, and she lowered her gaze. “Given the circumstances, Clint and I anticipated the event… a bit. After Clint… uh, after Lucas… ahhh.” Abby lifted her head and squared her shoulders. “Clint brought home a bottle of champagne for the New Year. I should have been in mourning, but—”
“You don’t have to explain to me.” But if it was going to be this hard for a married woman to admit she’d anticipated her nuptial vows, what would it be like for her?
“No, I guess not.” Abby took a sip of tea. “You got my letters?”
“Yes, I got them.” Lindsay patted the carpetbag she’d brought into the parlor. “Kept them all, too.”
Her family had been the Kerr’s first boarders when her father had come west to look for land to ranch. Even though they’d only been fourteen, she and Abby had formed a lasting friendship, keeping in touch for more than ten years through letters.
But it wasn’t her place to disparage Abby’s boardinghouse, she remembered how miserly her friend’s father had been and guessed Abby hadn’t had time to replace the shabby furniture.
She lifted her teacup and took another sip. “I hate to speak ill of the dead, but I was very happy to learn Lucas Sanford is no more. That man was hideous, a grotesque monster.”
Her friend gazed out the huge bow window. “I’d forgotten how I poured out my heart to you when Lucas first left me.” She bowed her head again. “Yes, he was a monster. Money was everything to him. He was willing to sacrifice his own son for… for…”
Abby caught her breath, and her eyes looked watery.
The last thing Lindsay wanted was her friend to go down memory lane and be reminded of the past few years before she’d met her new husband.
She lifted her handkerchief and dabbed at her mouth. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought Lucas up. Actually, I’m glad I never met him. I might have been tempted to hurt him.”
Her friend exhaled, and she grabbed a handkerchief, too, dabbing at her eyes. “I wouldn’t have wanted you to meet him. He wasn’t, wasn’t… normal. I know you’re brave, but I can’t answer for what he might have done.”
Abby had always been the demure one. Lindsay, on the other hand, had been a tomboy growing up. And she’d possessed no compunctions about mixing it up with her older brother, Chad.
“No, I probably wouldn’t have known what to do. But I’m surprised your father…” She let her voice trail off. Another painful topic, Abby’s cold and skinflint father. If she kept bringing up painful topics, she’d never get to the real reason she’d stopped in Del Rio on her way home.
A long, low whine broke the tense silence.
She leaned over and said, “Hush, Minnie. I’ll see to you in a minute. You just have to be patient.”
Abby’s face brightened, and she stared at the crate beside Lindsay’s feet. “What kind of dog is it?” She shook her head. “He’s so tiny and furry.” She glanced at her friend. “And you say he’s ‘house-broken’ and stays in your room? I’ve never seen such a dog.”
