Poor Boys Christmas
And The Greatest Gift
Kathleen Ball
Copyright © 2019 by Kathleen Ball
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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This set is dedicated to everyone who encouraged me to write Poor Boy’s story. He is a much loved character and he did indeed need his own book. Also to Sheri McGathy for her amazing covers and to Kay Springsteen Tate for her life saving editing. And as always to my loves Bruce, Steven, Colt and Clara because I love you.
Contents
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Poor Boys Christmas
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Epilogue
The End
The Greatest Gift
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Epilogue
The End
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Poor Boys Christmas
Chapter One
Gunshots blasted from outside the stagecoach. Adrenaline filled Poor Boy Hastings as he drew his gun and lifted the window covering. The glare of the Texas sun poured through the window into the dimly lit coach, momentarily blinding Poor Boy. He squinted against the glare and waited for his eyes to adjust. By the time he saw what was going on, he realized he didn’t have a shot. Two men were on horseback kicking up a good bit of dust while the Sheriff of Asherville, Shane O’Conner, was in pursuit.
The stagecoach jolted to a stop, and Poor Boy pushed the door open and jumped out. Quickly, he looked around and saw a saddled horse from his friend, Cinders’ ranch. He raced to it and mounted in one smooth move. Then he turned the horse and rode hell bent in the direction he’d seen Shane go.
Cinders had been right, they needed a deputy. Spurring the horse on, Poor Boy gained on Shane. The sheriff didn’t seem surprised to see him. He just nodded and urged his horse to run faster. It was no time at all before they had gained on the two bandits. Ragged and filthy bandanas covered the lower half of the outlaws’ faces. One of them lifted his gun and pointed it at Poor Boy and the sheriff.
Poor Boy ducked a few times to avoid getting hit. One of the sheriff’s bullets rang true and the larger of the outlaws fell to the ground. The smaller one instantly halted and dropped his gun.
He raised his hands. “Don’t shoot!” The bandit jumped off his horse and sprinted to the downed man.
Shane vaulted off his horse and gathered the outlaws’ guns. The smaller outlaw’s hat slid back and fell off. A mass of pecan-colored curls tumbled down and settled about a set of slim shoulders. She pulled her bandana from her face and laid her head on the bigger outlaw’s chest.
Shane exchanged astonished glances with Poor Boy, whose heart stuttered in his chest. The outlaw was a girl?
“Oh, Pa! I knew this would come to a bad end!” She looked up and glared at both Shane and Poor Boy. “You killed him! You murdered him in cold blood!”
Shane took a step forward. “Miss, listen. Shooting back at someone shooting at you is not murder. Maybe your decision to rob the bank is what led to his demise.”
She gave Shane a hard stare before she lifted her pa’s head and laid it on her lap. Tears rolled down her face as she stroked the dead man’s hair.
Shane approached her with his gun still drawn. “You’re under arrest. Poor Boy, grab the rope from my saddlebag and tie her hands.”
Poor Boy complied and got the rope, but as he approached the grieving girl, he hesitated. What kind of father brought his daughter to a bank robbery? He sighed. He didn’t know a thing about fathers. He had never known his father. He bent on one knee in front of the girl. “Put your hands out.”
She tilted her head up and gazed at him with big blue eyes. Her curly brown hair blew and twisted in the breeze. Resignation filled her eyes as she shrugged. With great care she laid her father’s head upon the ground and put her hands out in front of her for him to tie.
He tried to be gentle, but tying someone up was not a gentle thing. Grasping her arm, he helped her to stand and then led her to his horse. Shane took hold of her arm while Poor Boy got on the borrowed horse. Reaching down he hauled the prisoner up in front of him.
“I can ride my own horse!”
“Should I send someone to help with the body?” Poor Boy asked, ignoring her.
“No, I’ve got him.” Shane lifted the body and laid it over the back of the girl’s horse. “You go on and get her into a cell. I’ll be in town shortly. And Poor Boy, It’s damn good to have you back home.”
He gave Shane a nod before turning the horse and heading for town. The girl had tensed her body and sat as straight and as far away from him as possible. She shivered. She must be freezing. After all, it was December. It got cold in Texas in the winter. Not as nearly as cold as in New York where he’d been attending school, but cold enough. She didn’t even have a coat on. Her hands looked red and chapped. She smelled nice, almost like lavender.
It wasn’t how he’d expected his first day back to be. He’d been away a little over five years now. When he was younger, he had expected to come back to Asherville to live with his friend Eats. But Eats had died two years ago, and Poor Boy’d wanted to come back then with everything in him, but a lady in town, Edith Mathers, had insisted he finish his education before returning.
He hadn’t had a choice back then. Now he had a job and he was sure he’d find a place to live. He might not have relatives still alive, but he had good friends. The best people he knew lived in Asherville.
He made quite the stir when he rode in on his borrowed ride with a prisoner in his arms. People first gawked and then greeted him. His heart filled with each greeting. There were a number of people he didn’t know but town growth was a good thing.
A cowboy named Rollo came forward and grabbed the horse’s bridle. “Hey, kid, good to have you back. I see you met my horse, Smart One.” Rollo reached up and took the prisoner into his arms and then set her standing on the boardwalk in front of the jailhouse. “Did she rob the bank?”
Poor Boy got down from the horse. “Her and her pa, I guess. Her pa is dead. Shane is bringing him in.”
Rollo instantly handed off the prisoner and then mounted Smart One. “I’ll go meet him and make sure everything is fine. Darn good to have you back, kid.”
Poor Boy opened the door to the sheriff’s office and pulled the girl in with him. “Might as well tell me your name.” He escorted her across the office and opened the door to one of the cells. He gently pushed her inside and closed the door. “Put your hands through the bars and I’ll untie them.”
She did as he bade. “I don’t talk to the law. Not ever, no how. Torture me if you must but my lips are sealed.”
He had to keep himself from laughing at her bravado. “Makes no never mind to me. I’ll just call you Corny.”
“Corny? What kind of name is that?”
&nb
sp; “It’s short for Cornelius. Corny, yes it suits you. Now, Corny, why rob the bank? I already know that the dead man is your father.” His cockiness withered as tears poured down her face.
“I want him to have a proper burial.”
He nodded, but he knew all a bank robber would get was a hole in the ground without any words being said by a preacher. “The sheriff should be here soon.” He turned from her and checked the coffee pot. Pleased to find it full, he poured himself a cup. A curl of steam rose from the cup, and he realized it would be better served to her. After all, she didn’t have a coat.
Molly McDonagh accepted the tin cup filled with coffee from the man called Poor Boy. He appeared neither poor nor a boy. How strange. He was a man, a tall man with deep brown eyes and dark mud-colored hair. His certainly didn’t have the shoulders of a boy. In fact, they were nice and broad. His clothes were a better quality than hers. Poor Boy indeed.
She wrapped her hands around the hot cup to warm them. Heck, he even had a coat on. What did she care anyway? Her pa was dead. Shot dead by that other man. Tears filled her eyes yet again. Would they have a trial or would they hang her right away? Right away would probably be preferable than waiting and wondering.
It wasn’t as though she’d have anyone to mourn her. She was the last of her line. The last Mean McDonagh alive. She was as mean and as bad as they came. The irony of the name almost made her smile. With one mistaken allegation, her family had become outlaws. Live by the gun, die by the gun. Except that wasn’t how they’d meant to live.
The sound of the door opening pulled her out of her musings.
A woman in a fine cloak with graying dark hair all wound into a tight bun came hurrying through the door, making a beeline for Poor Boy. She wrapped her arms around him so tight Molly thought he’d choke.
“Oh, my let me look at you!” the woman cried. “You’re so tall and handsome. Oh my, the girls will just be over the moon to have you in town. You’ll be so popular at the Christmas gathering. I’m so glad you’re home. I kept Eats’ restaurant going for you.” She stepped back and smiled at him. “I can’t believe you’re here.”
“It’s good to be home. And yes, I’ve grown in the last five years. You never mentioned Eats’ Place in any of your letters. I can’t believe you kept it going.”
“I hired a nice man, Aaron Pike, and his sister Ann Marie to run the place. Oh, you’ll just love Ann Marie. She’ll make some lucky guy a most wonderful wife.”
Poor Boy’s face turned red. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Mrs. Mathers.”
“Oh, posh. It’s Edith to you, my dear boy.” She turned her head in Molly’s direction , and her mouth dropped open, shock registering in her eyes.. “A girl? What is the world is a girl doing robbing banks?” Her lips formed a thin straight line and she shook her head. “The faster we get her type out of town the better.”
Poor Boy’s eyes widened as he gazed at Molly over Edith’s head. “It’s not for me to say. I’m just the deputy.”
“What? Who said you could be a deputy? That’s a dangerous job. You could get hurt or killed by someone like her!” She pointed a bony finger at Molly.
Molly took a step back. Edith Mathers was obviously not a woman to tangle with. She was nothing more than an uppity old hag. Molly turned her back to them. There wasn’t much to see except the wall and the cot. The cot looked wretched with numerous stains on it. A bucket sat on the ground next to it. Her face heated as she guessed its purpose. The wall had names carved into it. Stupid criminals if they had something to carve with why didn’t they just escape? Then again, she wasn’t totally surprised. While on the run with her pa, she’d encountered all types of not-too-smart outlaws. Now that she was caught, she probably fit into that category.
Hopelessness ran through her. She’d just turned seventeen, and it didn’t look as though she’d see eighteen. She couldn’t even admit it would be a waste. Her future would have been bleak indeed without her pa.
When she heard the door open and close again, she glanced over her shoulder. The old hag had left. Good. She drank down the coffee and then clanged the cup against every bar one by one in a sweeping motion in one direction and then again in the opposite direction making a loud, disturbing noise.
The startled expression on the deputy’s face gave her a wicked sense of satisfaction. Perhaps she shouldn’t feel so defeated yet. While there was a breath in her, there was life. She’d held on to her life so dearly before, why give up now?
“Hey, so about my name, how did you guess? My name is Corny Cornelius. I hail from Kansas. God’s own choice place. Now I’m in hell, I’m in Texas. Anything else you wanted to know?” She shouted above the noise she was making.
He whipped his head around and stared at her before bestowing her with a heart-stopping smile. “No, that should do it for now.”
The challenge in her eyes intrigued him. She wasn’t going to be the biddable prisoner after all. “Well, Corny Cornelius, it’s nice to meet you. I wish it was under better circumstances, but we can’t always choose what happens to us. Sheriff O’Connor should be here soon, and I’m sure he’ll know what to do with you. It’s my first day on the job.”
Her eyebrow cocked. “I did notice the welcoming party you received. It might as well have been a darn parade. Why do they call you Poor Boy? Is it meant as a joke? You’re neither a boy nor poor.” She went back to hitting the bars with her cup.
He stalked over and grabbed the cup from her. “I think there’s a rule about that.”
“About what? Making music?” She folded her arms in front of her and subjected him to a saucy stare as though waiting for an answer.
He narrowed his eyes. She was baiting him. “Well now, if you were a man, I’d have cause to haul off and beat you. I’ll ask the sheriff if the same goes for females.” He pretended to cough to cover his laugh at the horror in her eyes. Take that Corny Cornelius.
“I’m sure females are to be handled with the utmost care. I mean not handled. Of course, I wouldn’t want you to handle me at all. I mean—”
He roared in laughter. There was no help for it. The more he laughed the more pursed her lips became. “You know something, Corny? I think I like you after all.”
“Good, because she’ll be in your charge, Poor Boy,” Sheriff O’Connor said as he came through the door. He set his hat on his desk and gave Poor Boy a bear of a hug. “Damn, it’s good to see you! Wait until Cecily gets ahold of you. She’s been so excited since word came you were coming home.”
A shrill whistle came from inside the cell. “Is everyone in town related to you, Poor Boy?”
“I don’t have a family.”
“Sure you do! Heck, half the town lays claim to you. That’s all everyone’s been talking about for the last few months. That and the weather. Sure is starting to get cold out there. You never know what type of Christmas we’ll have. Some years it’s nice and warm and other times it’s so cold your toes curl.” Shane poured himself a cup of coffee and sat behind his desk.
Warmth rose from Poor Boy’s neck and flooded his cheeks.
“So, your name is Corny?” Shane asked changing the subject.
She turned a bright shade of red. “Why yes, Corny Cornelius.”
“It that right? If you’re looking for an outlaw name that one is already taken. His wanted poster is on the wall over there.” Shane pointed to a spot on the wall next to the door.
“It is?” She turned and glared at Poor Boy.
He smiled innocently at her. “She wouldn’t give her name so I suggested it was Corny.”
Shane glanced from Poor Boy to the female prisoner and then he shrugged. “It’s as good a name as any. I’d just hate to see bounty hunters coming to claim you. The poster does say dead or alive. Some of those hunters can be a bit…how can I say this? They are outside of the law in the way they gather their bounties. But if you already have a poster on you I guess it doesn’t matter.”
An eerie shade of white replaced h
er earlier blush, and Poor Boy took a step toward her. He stopped after one step. There was nothing he could do for her. “Why don’t you just sit down and tell us who you are?”
Chapter Two
The familiar ring of the bell over the mercantile door jingled when Poor Boy entered. He took a deep breath cherishing the smells of coffee, cinnamon, and peppermint mixed with a hint of pickles.
“Jumping Jehoshaphat! Ain’t you a fine sight!” Cookie boomed as he walked toward him. Cookie hadn’t changed one bit. The old cowboy still had a thick head of white hair and a hint of mischief in his blue eyes.
“Cookie, it’s great to see you.” Poor Boy wrapped his arms around the older man. “Looks like life has treated you well.”
“That it has. I finally convinced our Edith to marry me.”
“Congratulations! When’s the big day?”
Cookie frowned. “All she’ll say is someday. But, my boy, it’s progress.”
Poor Boy nodded. “Yes it is. I’m happy for you both. All of Edith’s letters always had news of you. I know how much she cares for you.”
“Stop talking about me!” Edith called from the back room. “I can hear you!”
“Best hearing in the whole dang town,” Cookie whispered.
“Yes I do,” she sang out.
Both men laughed.
“In that case, I’ll order from here. I need a new mattress for the jail. The ticking on the one in there is stained something awful.”
Poor Boy's Christmas with Bonus Book Page 1
