His Christmas Carole (Rescued Hearts Series Book 1)

by Alexis Lusonne Montgomery

  “You just going to let me bleed? I could die!”

  “How long?” Hap reached toward the blade.

  The man jammed himself back in the chair, protecting the knife protruding from his shoulder.

  “I don’t know. A couple or three hours, maybe.”

  “You better hope I get there in time. Mighty long walk back to town.”

  “You wouldn’t just leave me here, would ya, mister?”

  “Like your brothers did with me? You can hope.”

  Addy Ross stood at the enormous eight-burner cook stove in the bunkhouse and dished up another bowl with green beans, before walking to the large table, covered with a red cloth and laden with Christmas dinner. She handed the bowl to her husband to be passed around, and took a seat, appreciating the enthusiasm the hungry men exhibited. Some were already asking for second helpings.

  “Hey,” deaf old George at the far end of the table boomed. “Can you pass me the mashed potatoes?”

  The bowl of mashed potatoes went hand over hand down the row of men gathered for the midday meal. Ham steaks, green beans, and biscuits still hot from the oven were passed down in a never-ending shuffle on the long plank table that extended the length of the split-log bunkhouse.

  “Mighty fine vittles, Addy,” chorused baby-faced Loren.

  “Yeah, Addy.” Matt flourished a biscuit. “These are the best I ever et.” He took a big bite of one to prove his point.

  “And you say that every time you eat one. So, I thank you kindly for the compliment, again.” Addy smiled, looking down the table at her husband, who winked.

  The empty seat next to him gave her pause. Once again, doing what she thought was best seemed to have backfired. She hoped Hap would forgive her for going against his wishes and celebrating Christmas.

  Maybe baking his favorite dried apple pie will help.

  “You boys quit tryin’ to butter up my wife.” Charlie waved a fork at the men at the far end of the table. “I told ya, she already made those pies you asked for, but you ain’t gettin’ them ‘til supper.”

  Addy laughed and dried her hands on her oversized apron. She shook her head at the child-like pouts on the weatherworn faces around the table. “Well,” she relented, “if you really—”

  A deafening clatter of hooves sounded on the porch and the bunkhouse door crashed open. Rustler shoved into the room, snorted toward one end of the table, then the other, seemingly to make sure no one missed his dramatic entrance.

  Charlie stood, dumping his chair over in his haste to get to Rustler, and grabbed hold of the horse’s halter.

  The stallion, his sides heaving, snorted and threw his head about, stomping his front hooves repeatedly.

  “He’s got blood on him!” Addy cried. “Look, Charlie, Rustler’s hurt.”

  Charlie backed the horse out of the bunkhouse. They all followed. The other men surrounded the stallion, trying to soothe him enough to see how badly he was injured.

  “Maybe he scraped his back on something?” Addy asked.

  “Looks more like a bullet graze to me.” Charlie passed the reins to Daniel so he could get a closer look at the wound. “But there’s no blood on the saddle.”

  “Where the hell is the boss?” Mike demanded.

  “Mount up, boys. We gotta find him,” ordered Charlie. “Daniel, you take Rustler in the barn and clean that scrape. The boss would shoot every last one of us if we let anything happen to that horse. The rest of us will follow his trail back to the boss. But we’ll go armed.”

  “Sure thing, Charlie. I got him.” Daniel reached for Rustler’s reins and led him toward the barn, crooning to him like a fractious child.

  “Hap planned to stay at the old homestead cabin,” Addy told them.

  “We’ll find him,” Charlie said grimly.

  A few minutes later, Addy stood on the porch, as their crew wheeled around and headed toward the ranch gate. She twisted her apron in knots and prayed the men would find Hap safe.

  The riders almost reached the gate when, with a thunder of hooves, Rustler burst out of the barn. The stallion charged back along the trail he’d just made through the snow, passing up the mounted cowboys.

  The horse stopped at the top of the slight rise, turned, and stared back at the horsemen following. Rearing, he let out a shrill challenging cry, and then raced away.

  “Follow him,” Charlie roared. “He knows where the boss is.”

  Twenty men on horseback galloped after the big stallion.

  Addy clutched her apron in one hand, praying they weren’t too late.

  The cousin’s name was Jerald. Hap left him sitting quietly in the chair, not daring to move for fear he would dislodge the knife and bleed to death.

  Hap had no intention of disabusing the twitcher of that notion. At worst, he’d end up with a sore shoulder and a few stitches. But obviously being a little slow in his thinking things through, he believed what Hap told him and stayed put. Hap would send the doc, and Jerald would count himself lucky if he didn’t hang.

  He was outside, trying to saddle Jerald’s horse with only one good arm, when he heard a thunder of hooves, sounding like a stampede coming his way.

  Good God! What else can go wrong?

  Hap turned in time to see Rustler crest the top of the trail leading into the valley. Relief swept through him, and

  he could have dropped to his knees in relief and gratitude that his big buddy was safe. But before he could even get a breath, what looked like every man he employed charged over the hill in the stallion’s wake.

  What in tarnation?

  Rustler slid to a stop in front of him and snorted in the other horse’s face, pushing him away.

  Hap reached for the stallion’s halter.

  “You okay, big guy?” He rubbed Rustler’s velvet nose and rested his forehead on the horse’s cheek, careful to shield his throbbing shoulder from the stallion’s effusive greeting.

  “He’s got a big scratch on his right flank.” Charlie reined in next to Rustler and swung down out of his saddle. “But the wound sure didn’t slow him down any.”

  The other men fanned around the cabin’s clearing, pulling in mounts as close as possible to hear what Hap had to say.

  “My future wife has been abducted. That High River bunch K.C. Granger warned us about are responsible for shooting Rustler and putting a bullet through my shoulder. One of them is inside with my knife still in him.”

  “Ya want us to hang him for ya, boss?”

  “Unfortunately, no. He’s kin of a sort, so he’ll have to go to jail instead and let a judge decide.”

  “You sure, boss? Sounds like he oughta hang.”

  Hap ignored their collective nods of agreement, along with the wail from inside the cabin. He examined the shallow graze across Rustler’s flank, grateful the wound really was only a scratch, before reaching in his saddlebag and pulling out a jar of salve good for treating cuts and abrasions. The last time he’d taken supplies to the Blackfoot reservation, he’d obtained the salve from Good Earth Woman, the healer. He handed the jar to Charlie.

  His foreman opened the lid and applied the contents liberally, before turning to eye Hap’s shoulder. “We need to see to you, Boss.”

  “No time. I can wait until we get to town.”

  “I’d argue and have the men wrestle you down, Boss, ’cept I know how I’d feel if someone took Addy.”

  Hap nodded, grateful to be spared a wrestling match in his condition. “Two of you stay here and keep an eye on Jerald.” He jerked a thumb at the cabin. “We’ll sort out things later. Sheriff Granger will take care of him.”

  Charlie checked the cinch on Rustler’s saddle and stepped back for Hap to mount. “Uh, boss? How’d you come across a wife-to-be way out here?”

  “Long story. Right now, I just need to get to town before she’s forced to marry one of those Houghtens.”

  Chapter 16

  When they rounded the last bend into Sweetwater Springs, Carole sighed with relief.
The midafternoon sun played tag with the mountains in the distance. Dusk wasn’t far away.

  Hap’s running out of time.

  She needed to find the doctor and send him on his way to the cabin before the sun was any lower in the sky, or the weather did another quick change and made the trip impossible.

  They entered Sweetwater Springs on the railroad side, driving on past the Livingston Hotel, a four-story, brownish-pink quartz covered building, whose façade glinted in the afternoon sun. Wreaths still hung on the front doors, and her throat tightened, thinking of the special Christmas Eve she’d shared with Hap.

  Being Christmas, Main Street didn’t have a lot of activity, which would make getting through town easier. Cobb’s Mercantile also displayed a wreath on the door and seemed to be closed. They probably didn’t expect customers today. The livery on the opposite side of the street appeared deserted. What if neither doctor is home? What if they are both out on a call? Surely, one of them will be there. Someone has to be. She couldn’t even consider any other possibility.

  “Just stop at the church,” Jasper grunted, his hand resting on the pearl handle of the gun he wore.

  Another item confiscated from her grandfather’s things, no doubt.

  Ignoring him, Carole drove on through town. Her body tense, she took them past the church.

  “Hey!” Jasper pointed behind them.

  “The doctor goes to Hap before anything else takes place. No doctor, no wedding,” Carole hissed through clenched teeth. She reined the buggy to a stop in front of the doctor’s house, a white two-story with a broad front porch and green flower boxes under the windows, which also served as the Cameron doctors’ office and surgery. Another bit of information provided by her housekeeper.

  She set the brake, wrapped the reins around the whip holder, and jumped down.

  “Think you’re so smart, don’t ya?” Jasper spat a wad of chew to the ground. “The doc can go. Jonah’ll go with him. My brothers will hold them both at the cabin until we get back, so there won’t be no funny business. You unnerstand what I’m sayin’, cousin?”

  “Perfectly.”

  She pushed through the gate of the white picket fence surrounding the front yard, rushed onto the porch, and banged on the door.

  Hap finally had to haul back on the big stallion to slow his breakneck pace. Rustler left his men far behind in their race to town. They’d always had an uncanny way of knowing how the other felt, but now, he needed to control his own panic and make sure Rustler didn’t get hurt in this debacle. The stallion had the heart to run ’til he dropped, but Hap was not about to let him risk more injury.

  He knew Carole would handle the situation as best she could. If grit and smarts were enough against three idiot crooks with guns, she’d win hands down. But he knew with her big heart, she’d do anything to protect him.

  Too bad, she doesn’t know I’m on my way.

  “Easy, big guy,” he whispered, leaning forward in the saddle as if that would cover the ground faster. “Almost there.”

  With any luck at all, K.C. Granger would be around, and Carole could enlist her help until he got there. But then both women could step back, because, wound or no wound, he was going to take apart Jasper Houghten piece by piece.

  A handsome man with auburn hair slightly graying at the temples answered Carole’s insistent knocking.

  “May I help ye, lass?” he asked in a soft Scottish brogue. “I’m Dr. Cameron. Fergus Cameron,” he clarified.

  “Halloran James has been shot in the shoulder,” Carole blurted, conscious of the men behind her able to hear every word. “I only had whiskey to disinfect the wound, but I applied pressure to stop the bleeding. There were holes on both sides, so the bullet came out. He needs stitches.” She was babbling but couldn’t seem to slow her words.

  “Take a breath, Lass. Sounds like you did well.”

  Her chest was tight with fear. “He was unconscious when I left to fetch you. My cousin, Jerald, stayed with him. Please, can you go to him?” Putting her hands to her face, she forced herself to take a deep breath and stared up into the doctor’s compassionate blue eyes.

  “Where did you leave him, Miss…?”

  “Crispin. Carole Crispin. Raphael Houghten’s granddaughter.”

  “Ach, yes. I heard you were expected. Come in, come in near the stove.”

  Ushering her into a long, wide hallway lined with benches, he indicated the far door at the end of the passage.

  “He said the cabin is his family’s original homestead.” She glanced back to see Jasper, followed by Jeb, and wanted to scream her outrage but didn’t dare for fear they’d prevent the doctor from leaving. “In a little valley on the far side of his property, nearest to High River Ranch. My other cousin, Jonah, will guide you. Grandfather’s buggy is outside, ready to leave.”

  Watching while he gathered his black bag and heavy fur-lined traveling coat, she could tell he wanted more information, but her insistence he hurry seemed to be enough to send him on his way.

  “Do you have a gun in that bag, Doc?” she whispered, making sure she wasn’t overheard by her cousins, lurking in the surgery’s doorway.

  “I will,” he answered, glancing behind her.

  “My cousin, Jonah, will show you the way.” She’d spoken loudly this time, and Jasper nodded assent. “He’s waiting outside.”

  “Better be goin’ then, Doc,” Jasper spoke up. “We got business to take care of here.”

  “We gotta’ find the preacher,” Jeb announced, stepping up behind his brother.

  Dr. Cameron sent her a hard, questioning glare.

  “Just go, please, doctor. I can handle them,” Carole said under her breath. “Please.”

  Fergus Cameron nodded, donned his knit cap and pulled it down over his ears, grabbed his black doctor’s bag, and made his way past the two men hovering in the doorway.

  Carole followed him to the porch, watched him get into her grandfather’s conveyance, and waved as he rolled away, walking to the middle of the street.

  Jonah looked back at her, standing on the paved brick street between his two brothers, smirked, tipped his hat. He then skirted around the buggy and took the lead out of town.

  What did that tipped hat mean? What did they have cooked up? A signal for some new plan they’d hatched? Carole knew she had to go through this mockery of a marriage so she could get back to Hap. Nothing else mattered. Only Hap. At least now, she didn’t have to hurry, knowing he’d be in good hands with the doctor.

  Feeling very alone, Carole watched the buggy head away.

  Jasper grabbed her elbow to pull her along.

  Carole jerked her arm free and turned to face her two remaining cousins. Stiffening her back, she raised her chin and glared at them.

  “My grandfather would have you horsewhipped if he were here. You are a disgrace to the Houghten name.”

  “Yeah? Well, too bad for you he ain’t here. Now, move it, cousin.” Jasper mounted his horse and guided the animal as though to herd her like a recalcitrant calf in the direction of the church and parsonage.

  Like a martyr going to the cross, she walked back down Main Street. With any luck, Reverend Norton would be home and not out tending to his congregation so they could get this over with.

  Her cousins ambled along on horseback, keeping pace with her. On foot to the parsonage from the doctor’s house took longer than driving the buggy, and Carole spent the distance considering her options. She had every intention of thwarting Jasper’s plan. She just had to think of a way to foil his scheme without anyone being put in harm’s way on her behalf. The timing was critical.

  Carole strolled toward the parsonage at a sedate pace. If only I could meet Sheriff Granger making her rounds. She’d seen the jail when she arrived, but now she couldn’t break away and rush there for safety. She’d never be able to outrun her cousins on horseback, and she’d be trapped in the building if the sheriff wasn’t there.

  No help in sight.

 
Think! There must be something I can do!

  “Quit stalling,” Jasper sneered. “You can walk faster. I want to get this done today, cousin.” He urged his mount closer. “Jeb, ride on down to the church. Find the preacher and tell him we’re comin’.”

  Jeb spurred his horse forward.

  “Now, unless you want to ride up here with me, you’d better move it, missy.”

  Her chest tightened, but Carole didn’t increase her pace. In spite of his threat, her cousin wouldn’t cause a scene in the middle of town. Or at least, she hoped he wouldn’t. Drawing unwelcome attention was exactly what he didn’t want.

  The closer they came to the church, the more her stomach knotted with dread, and she could see no rescuer in sight.

  Chapter 17

  Sheriff K.C. Granger stepped out of the shadows of the side of the saloon. “Do we have a problem, ma’am?”

  With relief so profound, Carole recognized that deep, but definitely feminine, voice and closed her eyes in a moment of thanks. Then she turned to gaze in the sheriff’s direction.

  Cool gray eyes in a strong-featured face appraised Jasper on the horse before glancing at Carole. A single thick brown plait hung over one shoulder from under a chamois-colored Stetson.

  Tall for a woman, she wore men’s trousers and a leather vest with a brass star pinned to the front. The two six-guns she sported in the holsters at her hips gave credence to the badge she wore.

  “No problem, sheriff,” Jasper exclaimed before Carole could say anything. “We’re on our way to see the preacher. My brother and my dear cousin are fixin’ to get hitched today.”

  “Is that so?” Sheriff Granger stepped closer, her right hand resting on her belt.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  K.C. looked at Jasper, seeming to weigh his words, and then turned to Carole. “You agree to this wedding?”

  Jasper’s hand rested on his gun.