A Cheyenne Christmas Homecoming (The Sweet Cheyenne Quartet Book 4)

by Caroline Lee

  Copyright © 2014, Caroline Lee

  www.CarolineLeeRomance.com

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author.

  First edition: 2014

  This work is made available in e-book format by Amazon Kindle at www.amazon.com

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  Printing/manufacturing information for this book may be found on the last page

  Cover: EDHGraphics

  Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  EPILOGUE

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  Other works by Caroline Lee

  The Sweet Cheyenne Quartet

  A Cheyenne Christmas

  A Cheyenne Celebration

  A Cheyenne Thanksgiving

  A Cheyenne Christmas Homecoming

  Where They Belong: A Sweet Cheyenne Christmas Story

  The Mothers of Sweet Cheyenne: A short story collection

  Everland Ever After

  Click the image to be taken to a listing of all the Everland books!

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  For you, dear reader.

  Thank you for loving the

  Barkers and Murrays

  as much as I do.

  And for my Facebook fans,

  who have supported me from the beginning.

  You know who you are.

  CHAPTER ONE

  March 5, 1880

  Dearest Nathaniel,

  Thank you for understanding, or at least pretending to understand, why I had to leave.

  Of everyone there, of everyone in Cheyenne, you are the one I will worry about the most. Annie has been dependent on me for so long, but I know that she has settled in with the family and with her horses, and will do wonderfully. Besides, now that I have taught you her sign ‘language’, I know I am leaving her with another champion. You have always been so kind to her. And I will miss Serena and Molly and Ash, and Peter and especially baby Noah… but I think I will miss you most of all.

  You have been my oldest friend, Nate, and I care deeply for you. I also know that you will happily spend the rest of your life on your ranch. You don’t even like to venture into Cheyenne! But I was raised in the city, Nate, and even Cheyenne cannot compare to the Chicago I remember. I love the Wyoming sky, and the fresh air, and the lovely little black-eyed susans… but I know that I will not reach my potential there. I need to go east again, to see what I can become.

  I am not sure if even you, you who I have spoken to at length about my dreams and aspirations, understand that, or if you are only pretending to for my sake. But my world is a world of books and letters and words, and St. Louis has the most beautiful library, Nate! Here I can revel in the things that I love, the things that I couldn’t have in Wyoming. I flatter myself to think that my leaving was hard for you to bear, but please be happy for me. Here, I can make something of myself. I can change my future, and make a lasting impression on the world.

  I would point out that if our positions were reversed, if I were a man leaving to seek my fortune and you were a woman left behind, then there would be no concern at all. But since I am a woman, I am made to feel guilty about leaving to follow my dreams, instead of staying on the ranch and making a life with the people I love. Oh, I do not say that you have made me feel guilty, at least on purpose. Even Molly has been very supportive, and Serena is, I believe, supremely jealous of my adventure. But I saw your hurt, and I understood it, and that made me feel guilty. No, do not apologize, I do not tell you these things to return the guilt. I merely want to point out that I feel guilty in following my dreams, and that I should not.

  You know I believe that women are equal to men, and should have the same rights and privileges. Why, then, is it so hard for me to think of leaving you and the ranch? Why is it so hard to make the decision to become who I wish to become? If I am to survive—nay, thrive!—in this city, I am going to have to start thinking like a man, I suppose. Or perhaps, thinking like a man should think, at least. Oh, I don’t know! I want to thrive because of who I am, not who I pretend to be.

  I am not explaining myself very well, am I, Nate? Instead, I will change the subject. I know that you will have read my letter to Molly and Annie, and know of my trip. But I will tell you more anyhow. The train was… magnificent. I cannot help but feel that man (and woman!) was not meant to travel at such speeds. Of course, I rode the train so many years ago, on our way from Chicago. Do you remember that day? It was the first time I saw you, there in the station. You were standing beside Ash, and I thought you were a servant. But I could not take my eyes off of you, because you were so darkly striking even then. You were the first Indian I had ever seen, and I made a fool of myself that day, didn’t I? I did not believe you were Ash’s brother, but you two soon taught me that love and family bonds are deeper than blood.

  But I was telling you about the train! It was beautiful, upholstered in green with dark wood paneling. I did not have a private room, of course, but I preferred the freedom of the car, to be able to meet new people and hear their stories. There were such interesting, lovely people on board! I remembered your warning, and stayed clear of the unsavory types. I met a young couple with a baby from Salt Lake, on their way to visit her family in St. Louis. And two spinster ladies who reminded me of Serena’s aunts, who kept me smiling with their witty remarks about current events. There was even a businessman and his wife, traveling all the way to Boston! I enjoyed their company immensely, and I believe that I learned something from every person I met. To me, the joy of meeting new people is learning their stories and getting new ideas.

  Throughout the trip, I thought of you often. I wondered what you would think of a particular person, or a certain view. Of course, the history of the machine was not lost on me, either. Knowing that we were traveling over rails laid and watered by the sweat and blood of men—boys!—like you made it seem more personal. I can only imagine what it must have been like for you, as young as you were, to toil across the emptiness of the plains, building the rails I was now lucky enough to whizz over. Hearing your stories, I have always been angry for you. But now, I believe that good has come from your struggle and pain. The railroad was terrifying and wonderful, yes, but it is amazing to be able to travel between territories so easily.

  I have arrived safely in my lodgings here in St. Louis, and have met with the ‘Principal’ of the High School. I believe that I impressed him, despite the fact that I have lived so far from civilization, and have not attended college. Mr. Morgan believes that with my background in deaf education, I will be a fine choice to teach the first-years the basics of Randall’s elocution, and introduce them to the rhetoric of the English language. I am optimistic about my c
hances here.

  I will tell you more about this astonishing city in the next letter, Nate. I have seen so much, and met so many amazing people, that I cannot fit it all into one letter. Of course, you may already know all about the wonders of St. Louis from your brother, but in all the years I have known Ash, he has not spoken of the city of his birth to me. So I will write again next week, I promise. If you have forgiven me for leaving, and can stand to write to me, you can reach me at this address.

  Thank you for letting me go, Nate. Not that, as a strong woman, I needed you to release me… but I needed you to be comfortable with my leaving, or I would never be able to overcome my guilt. Thank you for at least pretending to be comfortable, so I that could follow my dreams.

  I miss you, and your comforting presence in my life, already. Please do not hold a grudge for too long, Nate. I don’t know if I could stand to not hear from you. Please write soon.

  My deepest affection,

  Wendy

  November 28th, 1883

  The shaft of light piercing the hole in the curtains tried to drill directly into his skull. With a groan, Nate Barker pulled a pillow over his head, moving carefully so as to not jostle anything. What had he been drinking last night? He must have finished a bottle of whiskey by himself, which was stupid.

  Luckily, he didn’t have to guess where he was. The satiny sheets and faint scent of roses told him he was in Eve’s room. He groaned again. How’d he end up in Eve’s room, if he couldn’t remember anything from the night before? Usually an evening with her was an evening worth remembering. An expensive evening worth remembering.

  But he couldn’t recall Eve’s… company. He’d come into Cheyenne to escort Annie back home tomorrow for the holiday, and figured he could stay at The Eden for the night, instead of with the Carderocks. But when he’d got to the saloon, whiskey sounded better than dinner, and the more whiskey he had, the less interested he was in Eve or one of her girls. He would have figured he’d be out on his ass in the alley mud this morning, instead of lying on a satiny cloud. Not that he was complaining; there were a hell of a lot worse places to wallow in misery with a pounding hangover.

  Eve liked the finer things in life… and for what she charged, she could afford them. The mattress was thick and fluffy, and a dozen ducks must have gone to stuff each pillow. The sheets were slick and soft, and always reminded Nate of a lover’s kiss. He definitely wasn’t wearing anything under those sheets, but he still couldn’t recall how he’d turned up nude in Eve’s bed.

  From under his pile of pillows and the thick comforter, Nate heard the door open, and then close behind someone. Footsteps crossed to the bed, and he knew it was Eve, from her confident stride and her rosewater scent. Then, mercifully, the shaft of light was blocked out when she sat on the bed. He rolled slightly into the hollow she created, and he groaned for a third time.

  “I’ve never seen you drink that much, little savage.” Her husky voice could make a man forget most of his cares. She lifted the pillow off of his face, and he felt her soft fingers brush a lock of his hair off his forehead. “I didn’t feel like any company anyhow, and you looked like you needed to find a bed before Jose opened another bottle for you.”

  So she put him in her own bed for the night, which meant she couldn’t share it with someone else. He licked his lips, and managed to croak out a whispered “Thank you.” Cracking his eyes, he saw her smile, and Lord, that woman could smile.

  Her eyes softened, and she traced the curve of his cheek with one soft finger. “What are friends for?” He didn’t have any response to that, and luckily, she didn’t seem to expect one. Instead, she sashayed to the window to block out the light, and Nate would have to be blind to miss the curve of her rear end under her robe. As she stuffed pillows behind his back to prop him up, he contemplated the fact that she wasn’t wearing much under that silk.

  But sitting up now, the headache was worse. “I’m sorry, Eve. I shouldn’t have…”

  “Shush, honey.” She’d crossed to a small table, and returned with a tray piled high with savory potatoes, ham, and biscuits. Nate felt his stomach heave at the smell.

  She must have seen him pale, because she just smiled again and set the tray beside him. Pouring him a tall glass of water, she handed it to him and said, “I know you don’t feel like eating, sugar, but you haven’t had anything in that stomach of yours for a while. I held you while you emptied the whiskey out, and stripped you and put you to bed, too.” Nate closed his eyes in embarrassment, and she noticed. “No need to be shy, honey. You know I’ve got a lot of experience with men and too much whiskey. And so you listen to me when I say you gotta eat something. Water and food, that’s what’s best for you, sugar.”

  Nate had always liked the way she’d talked to him. Part lover, part mother. Like she could teach him everything he needed to know… And truthfully, she had. He knew that she talked to all of her men like that, but he still liked it. Liked her. He grabbed her hand as she reached for the tray, and brought it to his lips. “Thank you, Eve.”

  Was that a blush? The woman was almost two decades his senior, and had spent who knows how many of those years as a whore, and she was blushing. But Nate liked her enough to not mention her embarrassment. After all, what are friends for?

  She pulled her hand away with a mock glare, and turned to the tray again. Piling a plate high with meat and biscuits, she said, “For that, honey, I’m going to sit right here until you finish eating all of this.” Nate grimaced, but tried to hide it. He wasn’t successful, because her smile was triumphant when she presented him the plate. “Eat up, my little savage.”

  Eve was the only person who still called him that. Over the years, he’d pounded so many of Cheyenne’s men for mocking his Indian blood that no one mentioned it anymore. To his face, at least. Even his family tip-toed around the subject, but he knew that was because they loved him, and didn’t want to cause him more pain. But Nate hadn’t bothered explaining that the prejudice and hatred he’d sometimes encountered didn’t hurt him anymore. Nope, he’d found a whole new reason to be in pain.

  Scowling now, he sat forward, not caring that the satin slipped down to reveal his hips and buttocks, and shoveled in a mouthful of ham. Eve smiled again, proudly, and patted his leg like he was a pet who’d done something right. He turned his glare on her.

  Eve laughed then; a surprisingly tinkling sound he knew wasn’t her real laugh. Her hand didn’t lie still on his thigh, either, but stroked up until she was caressing his stomach and chest. “Oh, honey.” Her voice sounded almost hungry. “You still don’t know very much about women, do you?”

  Well, that floored him. Around a mouthful of biscuit—which was almost as good as Molly’s—he mumbled “What?”

  The look he’d seen in her eyes—part longing, part resigned—disappeared in a blink, and then her smile was back. But Nate didn’t forget that she was a woman who made a living smiling at men, no matter if they were good friends.

  “I like you, Nate, and you needed a friend last night.” She tweaked his nose. “But you’re smart enough to know that you can’t get something for nothing. Even from a beautiful woman like me.”

  He swallowed the biscuit, and one corner of his lips drew up into a rueful grin. “So, beautiful woman, what do you want from me?” He took another bite of the ham, because he was feeling a little better now.

  She sighed. “Nothing you can give me, honey. You’re too sick.”

  He was about to protest that he could make an effort, having some idea of what she was after. The two of them had spent many hours in this bed, and he’d given as much pleasure as he’d gotten. But she surprised him by placing her hand on his chest, over his heart. “Sick in here.” His mouth went dry. He’d been heart-sick for a long time, but thought he’d hidden it well.

  She saw that he was going to object, and shook her head. “Don’t lie, honey. It’s not fair to either of us.” So he swallowed his denial. Her brown eyes searched his for a long moment, befor
e he grew uncomfortable and looked back down at the food on his lap. “You’re still missing her, aren’t you?”

  There was no need to ask which “her” Eve meant. For Nate Barker, there had only ever been one “her”. There would only ever be one “her”. But Wendy had cut herself out of his life almost a year and a half ago, and yeah, he still missed her. She was the reason he’d gotten so stinking drunk the night before. She was the reason he did most of the things he did, honestly.

  When he didn’t answer, Eve sighed. She leaned over and placed one chaste kiss on his cheek. “I’m sorry, honey. I know it still hurts.”

  Yeah. It did. Wendy had been his best friend since they were both little more than kids. She knew all of his secrets, and had helped him grow into the man he’d become. She’d taught him so much about himself and the world, and he thought she’d loved him. He’d sure as hell loved her, but he’d never told her.

  He’d gotten drunk last night to forget Wendy, even for a while. But here was another way to forget. A much more pleasurable way. Moving the half-finished tray of food to one side, Nate cupped one hand behind Eve’s head and drew her lips towards his. Their kiss was, as always, comfortable and familiar, and stirred him. The way she pushed the satin sheets away from his skin did even more, and when she dropped her robe and slipped in beside him, he was hard and ready for her.

  And he did forget about Wendy, if just for an hour.

  Later, his ride home was… quiet. Eve’s ministrations had wiped out his headache, and he felt almost human again. A visit to her bed—to any woman’s bed, really—always made him feel that way. Content again, for a little while. A little while of feeling satisfied, before his thoughts of Wendy intruded again, and he remembered why he normally felt so empty. Why no woman he ever visited was quite enough to slake his desire. Why it was Wendy’s face he saw in his dreams.