Cowboys Under The Mistletoe: Five Christmas Christian Romance Novellas

by Kristen Ethridge

  Add that to the long list of mistakes she’d made in her life.

  She’d figure something out. She always did.

  If Esther Schmidt were here she’d tell Hope to hang on to her faith. To trust God. To know that no matter what happened, God loved her and her children and He was with her, even in the hard times.

  Especially in the hard times.

  But Esther wasn’t here and never would be.

  Thanks to Cyprus.

  No, not entirely Cyprus. It was Hope’s fault for putting her in harm’s way. Esther’s death would rest on Hope’s shoulders for the rest of her life.

  No tears. Not now.

  Her window wipers groaned when she flicked them to the highest setting—probably because the rubber was raw and patchy along both blades. They had needed to be replaced for more than a year now, but where would she have found the money?

  Hope cracked her neck and yawned. Almost eight hours of non-stop driving wore a person down. When she finished her yawn, a loud horn blared. She gripped the steering wheel tighter, squinted and leaned forward, trying to see through the thick snowfall. Finally, the bright headlights of an eighteen wheeler came into view. The behemoth of a vehicle skidded toward her car on the narrow road, breaks smoking with effort. It looked as if the truck had hit a patch of black ice and was attempting to regain control, but the trailer was swinging out at a wide angle.

  Hope’s pulse buzzed like a hacksaw in her ears as she veered away from the truck barreling directly toward her. A split second calculation and she realized her only option was to run off the road in order to avoid being smashed. She jerked her steering wheel, overcorrecting harder than she should have. Her car spun wildly on the ice and snow. Jolted awake, Savannah screamed and Ethan let out a series of angry grunts.

  Please don’t let us die.

  The car’s old tires couldn’t find traction along the shoulder. The vehicle slipped to the right, off the road. The semi missed them by less than a foot as the driver was finally able to even out the careening trailer. He continued down the road, but Hope and her kids pummeled down a steep embankment and their car tore through a fence. A post banged against the driver’s side window, showering glass all around Hope’s seat. The car finally came to a rest at a precarious angle in a huge snow drift.

  “Mama,” Savannah was the first to speak. “Are we dead?”

  Hope blinked, trying to focus. Snow tumbled in through her open window, burying her. She was shivering so hard she could hardly think. But her children needed her to start moving. “Are you hurt? How’s your brother.”

  “He’s scared but he looks okay.”

  The other driver hadn’t stopped, but then again, she didn’t even know if the semi driver had seen them. Visibility was horrible, after all. There was a chance he hadn’t seen them go off the road.

  They were alone in the middle of a snowstorm. The last town they’d passed had been twenty minutes or more down the road, much too far to walk in bad weather, especially with two five-year-olds. She only had the money in her pocket and absolutely no plan.

  As inviting as it sounded to curl up and sob, that would only doom them all. Night had fallen hours ago. No one would spot their wreck until morning.

  If they stayed here, all three of them would freeze to death long before then.

  Hope tried to open her door but the weight of the snow and fencing against them made it impossible. She’d have to climb over the seats, get the kids out of their boosters, and pray that the back passenger door would open without any issues.

  But then what?

  *

  Rider Longley set his phone on the counter as he glanced over at the calendar hanging on his fridge. His sisters wanted him to join them for Christmas. The request shouldn’t be shocking, except for the fact that it was the first time they’d reached out to him since the lawsuit had finalized. These days, his sisters both lived in Bodega Bay, about forty miles north of San Francisco. In the years since they’d left, he’d pulled up images of Bodega Bay on the Internet a few times and it looked like a right nice place. But Rider couldn’t imagine ever wanting to leave their hometown in Bitterroot Valley or the small ranch house they’d all grown up in.

  He turned a circle, examining the house his sisters had left behind. The one they hadn’t wanted and had laughed about when it had been the only thing he’d asked for during the negotiations after their parents’ deaths.

  Their careless attitude about their roots still made him bristle.

  This was his home and always would be. Besides, it was awful nice to have the place to himself these days. His sisters were talkers and sometimes the energy it took to be in the same room as they were left him feeling raw and agitated. He much preferred his quiet life, working as the lead ranch hand at Big Sky Dreams and managing what was left of his father’s horse breeding business.

  His bachelor life suited him. Sure, he’d attempted the whole dating scene, but thoughts of settling down were long gone. He’d received a firm rejection from the only woman he’d ever cared about, so why bother?

  Rider scooped his hat off the peg near the back door, plunked it on his head and then shrugged into a heavy jacket. December in Montana was nothing to sneeze at, even in the valley where they enjoyed a somewhat milder winter. He yanked open the back door and trudged out toward the barn to check on that foaling mare again. She was one of his herd’s more skittish horses and foaling had only amped up her nerves. Rider made a point of checking on her a few times every night.

  He was a dozen paces away from his house when he heard a horn blare followed by a huge crunching sound. The front end of his property was lined by one of the area’s main roads, but it was snowing pretty hard. He couldn’t see what was happening, but it sure didn’t sound good. Before he had time to consider his options, sprinted across his field, tore open the gate and powered through the foot of snow covering the ground.

  A semi’s horn blared again.

  Every news article and online picture about the accident that killed his parents flashed through his mind. Their pick-up truck completely unrecognizable, crushed under a semi. Years of litigation after, leaving his chest hollowed out.

  He was out of breath when he rounded the curve, but he got there in time to see the truck’s taillights heading on down the road and the headlights of another vehicle in the deep ditch. Rider charged toward the car. Its wipers were still going berserk.

  What if the people in the car required lifesaving assistance beyond his capabilities? His cell phone was back in the house too, plugged in on his nightstand. And while Rider was one of the volunteer firefighters who served the community, he’d only recently finished his training. Guilt nipped at his heels. He should have run inside to call for help. If hope was on his side, he would remember his first aid instructions and wouldn’t freeze up like he had so many times during practice drills.

  God, go with me.

  The entire front end of the car was crumpled against the frozen earth. Because of the damage, he couldn’t even tell the make and model. Some old, tiny hatchback. The force of the accident had shoved snow up around the vehicle to where it was covering the roof in some places.

  “Hello!” Rider called as he scrambled toward the car. He brushed snow off the windshield so he could look inside. Three frantic pairs of eyes stared back at him. A woman and two kids.

  “Help us!” The woman was in the backseat with her arms around both of the little ones. “The door won’t open.” Her words were muffled.

  “I’ll get you out. I promise,” he yelled through the glass. He could run back to his barn and find a shovel and then make a quick call for the EMTs to come. But he didn’t want to just leave them out here cold and scared and more than a little shook up. Rider rounded the vehicle, the driver’s side window was shattered, but with chunks of glass hanging in the way that could cause anyone crawling through a lot of injuries. It was best saved as a last-resort exit. Hard-packed snow blocked most of the doors, but his eyes lande
d on the trunk. The back of the car was sticking straight out of the snow and, being a hatchback, it was attached to the middle where they were seated. He tried the door and thankfully it clicked right open. The easiest rescue in the history of mankind.

  He reached out to them. “Crawl toward me.”

  “Them first,” the woman’s voice shook.

  Rider nodded. “Of course.”

  She turned to the little girl. “Go ahead, sweetheart.”

  She gave the girl a boost over the seat. Rider easily latched onto her tiny arms and pulled her out. Because of the angle of the impact, the front of the car had landed in a deeper part of the ditch, so they had to climb upwards in order to reach him. The little girl started shivering the second he set her down beside him. Her coat was far too thin for the winter temperature outside.

  The little boy turned away from Rider, burying his face in the woman’s neck.

  “It’s all right. Look at me, Ethan.” She set him back and ducked to meet the boy’s eyes. “Can you be super brave for me? It’s like when we went hiking in the canyons with Miss Esther. Remember? Crawl out just like one of those big rocks you loved.”

  Ethan let out a high shriek and clapped a few times.

  The outburst caught Rider off guard. He looked down at the little girl for an explanation but she just smiled up at him as she shivered. No matter, he needed to get them out of here and into his home where there was a fire going and loads of his mother’s well-loved quilts.

  The woman passed Ethan over the seat. “Be careful with him. He’s … he’s—”

  “I got him,” Rider assured her. The little boy didn’t grab onto Rider the way the little girl had, so Rider wrapped his arm around the boy and tugged him out the back.

  The woman scrambled over right behind him. “Here.” She slid out of the truck area and reached for Ethan. “He’s usually good with strangers but it’s been a rough twenty-four hours.”

  Rider handed him over. “Are any of you hurt?” He scanned over their bodies in the dark, trying to look for breaks or injuries but between the falling snow and the thickening darkness of night, he couldn’t make out much.

  “We’re all right. Shaken. But we’ll make it.” She smoothed down her hair with the hand not cradling Ethan.

  Rider surveyed the car. “If you can walk—”

  The woman squared her shoulders. “I can walk just fine.”

  “My house is just past the bend there.” He pointed beyond the field to the blip of light poking through a line of trees. “You could all warm up while we wait for help.”

  She gave a stiff nod. That’s when he noticed she wasn’t even wearing a coat. Where on earth were these folks from? Traveling through Montana without adequate winter gear was plumb foolishness, not to mention risky. It hadn’t struck him to peek at the license plate before opening the trunk, but surely they weren’t from around these parts or they would have known better.

  Rider tugged off his coat and set it around the woman’s shoulders. “It’s a mighty cold night to be without one.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  A little hand touched his thigh—the girl. She reached up toward him with both hands, a silent request to be picked up.

  “’Course.” He hoisted the little girl into his arms, she swung her arms around his neck, and then he headed in the direction of the house. “It’s a long way back and the snow is a mite high for little legs.”

  Still cradling the boy, the woman fell into step beside Rider.

  Her feet had to be freezing in the fabric shoes she wore. Hadn’t these people ever heard of boots?

  Without his coat, the fabric of his flannel shirt provided very little protection against the icy blasts of wind hitting his back. He cleared his throat and tried to focus on not being cold. “Name’s Rider. This is my place.”

  “I’m Hope,” she offered. “Ethan.” She jutted her chin toward the boy in her arms and then glanced over at the girl Rider was holding.

  “My name’s Savannah. I’m five.” The little girl offered a shy smile. “I can talk on my own.”

  “Well, great.” Rider motioned toward a small break in the tree line. “Not far now.”

  A few minutes later, they were all safely inside his home, stomping snow from their shoes. Rider peeled off his boots, tossed his hat on the hook near the back door, and set a kettle on to warm up some water. It was something his mother always did when he or his dad had come in from the cold so it felt like the thing to do. Besides, he needed to give the little family a moment to regroup after what they’d just been through.

  Still, he couldn’t help glancing over at the band of travelers. Even tucked in his oversized coat, he could tell Hope was beautiful. Blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and full cheeks—she hardly looked old enough to be the mother of these kids. Then again, most of the ranch hands at Big Sky Dreams teased Rider for looking four or five years younger than he actually was. Chalk it up to the fact that his body had never grown out of the scrawny young adult phase. No matter how many hay bales he heaved, how much protein he ate, or weight he tried to press on the bench in his basement, he was forever a beanpole.

  Hope checked over each of her children before telling them it was okay to go sit on the couch by the fireplace. Rider handed Savannah and Ethan one of his mother’s quilts to share. “If your mom says it’s fine, I’ve got those cocoa packets for hot chocolate. Nothing fancy, but it warms you up.”

  “Should I hang your coat here?” Hope’s question made him turn around and focus on her.

  That’s when he spotted a line of blood soaking through the long-sleeved shirt she was wearing.

  “Your arm.” He started for her.

  She held a finger to her lips and raised her eyebrows toward the kids—a silent plea not to make a big deal and freak them out.

  Rider nodded his understanding as he grabbed his house phone off the kitchen counter and turned toward her. “I’ll call for an ambulance.”

  Hope slammed her hand over the number pad before he could dial. “No police. No ambulance. No hospitals.”

  “But you’re—”

  “I said no.” Her eyes were wide. Despite the force behind her words, she looked afraid.

  He laid the phone back on the counter and put a hand up in surrender. “Ma’am I don’t mean to be ornery but that needs to be looked after.”

  “The glass cut me when the window broke. It’s a scrape. Nothing more.”

  “I, ah, work on the volunteer firefighter crew. If you’d let me take a look—I can at least clean it up and patch you up.” And while he was doing that he’d try to talk some sense into the woman. Her car was totaled and he’d yet to witness her call a loved one for help or at least update someone with her whereabouts. Surely there was a husband or family waiting for them to arrive.

  Surely someone out there missed her.

  Chapter Two

  Rider motioned for Hope to follow him to a bathroom tucked behind the mudroom. She did, but her senses went on high alert. She hadn’t spotted signs of anyone else in the house yet—no family, no wife—so they were alone with the stranger. And while he had rescued them from the crash site, it didn’t necessarily follow that he was a good person with honest intentions. One good deed didn’t equal the entirety of a character any more than one bad choice painted a whole life as immoral.

  At least she hoped not because when it came to making bad choices, she was guilty of making some whoppers.

  She got the sense that Rider was kind, though, in the way he’d spoken to her kids and how he’d wrapped his coat around her without hesitating. There was a calmness about him as they’d trudged the frigid landscape toward his home.

  Then again, Hope had been wrong about men before.

  But her arm did sting, so she wasn’t about to turn down his help at the moment. It had been throbbing since she crawled into the backseat and unbuckled the twins. The injury couldn’t be too bad. There wasn’t enough blood. More importantly, her kids were
fine. Shaken, but fine. She couldn’t complain. She whispered a silent prayer, thanking God for protecting them and asking that He’d continue to do so.

  She waited in the hallway while Rider rooted around in the bathroom cupboard. He gathered an array of bandages which he arranged on the vanity before turning toward her.

  He raised an eyebrow. “You sure you don’t want me to call for help?”

  “I’m positive.” The cut wasn’t even bleeding anymore. At least, not much.

  “I could take you to the hospital. I don’t mind.”

  “I can’t.” She hated how her voice caught on the word.

  Rider studied her for a heartbeat. “Is it an insurance thing?”

  That—and she’d be a sitting duck at a hospital. One phone call from Cyprus acting like a concerned loved one and he could confirm her whereabouts. It didn’t take a genius to dial up every hospital emergency room and ask after her name. He had plenty of cronies he could put to work doing just that. Once he realized she’d gone north—and he would—

  “Here,” Rider’s voice broke through her thoughts. He reached for her arm and carefully drew her into the doorway of the bathroom where there was more light. Rider leaned close as he inspected the wound. “Well, the good news is, it doesn’t look so bad.”

  At that angle, his dark hair fell over his forehead. Despite it being winter, his skin still held the trace of a tan which told the story of long hours spent outdoors. He’d mentioned being a volunteer firefighter, but he had the hands of a man who was used to manual labor—firm, strong, callused. Yet his touch was gentle, careful.

  Rider’s mouth twisted to the side. “The bad news is, that shirt’s a goner.” He grabbed a piece of gauze and pressed it into her hand. “Hold that to the cut until I get back.” Then he walked off.

  Hope released a long breath once he was out of earshot. There was no doubt her car was totaled. She had drained her bank account before she left—all three thousand dollars of it—but she couldn’t waste it on a vehicle. Not now. Not yet. Not when it was the only money she had access to. Using a credit card would be traceable and Cyprus was the king of using information like that to hunt people down. How many times had she witnessed him successfully track people who had casino debts?