Christmas Mail Order Angels: The complete 11 Volume Set

by Darlene Franklin

  “Good. Whenever you need anything, I’ll be working on the cabin, working my claim, or facing down desperadoes. Except when I’m chasing crooks, I’ll just be a hail away.” He paced the small room. “You stick your head out that door and call. I’ll drop everything and come running.”

  “I’ll try not to call.”

  “I have the shanty set up for straining the meat and vegetables I bring home. So you’ll have to prepare Jamie’s food. I’d be pleased if you’d stop by next door when I’m working on our cabin and talk with me. That way I can keep in touch with Jamie.”

  Ha, he wants to keep an eye on me. “I would be happy to do so.”

  “And, un, if you don’t mind…”

  That fleeting expression showed whatever was on the man’s mind totally concerned him. He paced so close he trod on the tip of her toe.

  She scooted her foot back between the rockers. “Yes?”

  He raised his brows and widened his eyes.

  “It is quite easy to see something else bothers you.”

  His mouth tilted up at the corners, giving him an almost impish expression. “Got to watch what I think around you. I don’t believe in clairvoyance, but you’re scary.”

  Her laugh tinkled out, full and free. The man had a sense of humor.

  “But, I’d like you to be careful where you go and who you talk with. Angel Vale swarms with hordes of single men who haven’t laid eyes on a woman for weeks. When they discover you, a heap of them could make inappropriate advances or even offer marriage.” He dug in the pocket of his Levis, and then knelt on the wooden floor in front of her. “I’d be so honored if you’d wear this ring. The gold band’s not fancy, and I’ll buy you a diamond ring as soon as I have the opportunity. But I’d like for you to wear this one now.”

  She tried not to shrink away. Please, Lord, don’t let him notice my hesitancy.

  He reached for her hand.

  She let him take her cold fingers in his large, warm, callused hand. He slipped a gold ring on the fourth finger of her left hand.

  “But this is a wedding band.” She tried to slip the ring off.

  “Please wear my ring. For now, this will show our promise to one another.”

  Oh dear Lord. Someone else’s baby and a wedding band. I know I signed the Letter of Agreement for this, but I’m not sure I can keep my pledge with this particular Southern man. Please help me.

  “If you think it’s necessary, I’ll wear this ring when I go out.”

  Without his moving a muscle, his face or was it his soul, cried out in pain?

  Oh no, she held this poor man’s heart in the palm of her hand. She averted her gaze to the room’s single window, unable to witness the torment he tried to hide. “I’ll gladly wear your ring and care for your child.” What was she saying? She couldn’t put her life in this man’s hands simply to ease his suffering. She must think of herself as well. “But, Frank, I’ll—”

  He tapped a gentle finger to her lips. “I’ll escort you back to the lodging house. I’ll see you tomorrow. I’m usually working on our cabin before sunrise, but you’ll find coffee warming on the stove.” He touched the curl on her cheek. “We’ll breakfast later at the Eatery.”

  She nodded and glanced at the modern wood-burning stove, which along with a dry sink, occupied half the side of the small room. He’d made the shanty quite comfortable. And sufficient for cooking. So why breakfast at the restaurant? Because being alone with him distressed her and he knew it?

  He sprang up from his knees, and his big boots clomped across the thin rug on the wooden floor. With gentle hands, he lifted Jamie from the baby bed, cuddled him to his chest for a moment, then wrapped the baby in a blanket, and cradled him in one arm. Obvious love for the child spilled from his expression.

  He helped her with her cape. With his free hand snugged in the small of her back, he escorted her back through the darkness to the lodging house. Other couples milled around the door amid sounds of chatter and soft laughter.

  He took her gloved hand, bent over it, and kissed her fingers. Then he was gone, boots thudding on the boardwalk.

  She watched his commanding figure disappear into the darkness, her uneven breath visible in the chill air, trying to stop her heart from racing as she twisted the wedding band beneath the glove on her finger.

  Tomorrow, she would ask Matthew if he had a more suitable groom. A Wyoming man.

  Only Gallant Southern Gentlemen from the Deep South kissed a lady’s hand. Frank displayed an enormous sense of duty. Triple duty now, to the child, to his calling as sheriff, and to her.

  The man’s middle name was Duty. His eyes glowed and his chest heaved when he spoke of his work as sheriff. He loved that job. She read the papers. Sheriffs didn’t live long in the West. A man had to be fast on the draw to survive. And if he was, outlaws desiring to make a name for themselves drew down on a sheriff with a reputation as a fast draw. From what she’d seen of Frank, her intended groom had great reflexes. He knew how to clear leather fast. The man was good at everything he did.

  But Frank had not written that he was a Southerner. He had not written that he’d been made Sheriff of Angel Vale. He’d brought her here under false pretenses.

  She didn’t like danger. She longed for peace and security.

  And Frank had danger, duty, and devotion inscribed all over his face.

  How could he so easily fall in love? She hated the role of heartbreaker.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Frank had seen enough outlaws with that I’ll escape the first time the Sheriff’s not alert expression on their faces not to know what Amanda thought. The Circuit Riding Preacher wasn’t due again until Christmas day or he’d drag the pastor over tomorrow and tie the knot.

  Didn’t seem to make any difference to her that he’d gone out on a limb financially and practically sold his soul to pay her transportation to Angel Vale. But having her care for Jamie did take a load off. He’d still have to milk Daisy twice a day, but he’d have more time to finish that cabin knowing Jamie was safe and cared for. He shifted Jamie to his other arm.

  At first sight, the baby loved Amanda. And she seemed to take to Jamie. No problem there. Like him, she seemed certain the boy wasn’t his son, else she wouldn’t have wanted to change Baby Frank’s name.

  He was the problem. For whatever reason, his bride didn’t like him. He had to find out why.

  Whatever he did, he’d keep a keen eye on Amanda. No way would he let her escape.

  Scary how she seemed to read his mind. He’d have to watch out for that too.

  She’d been nervous with him in the shanty. Did she think he would force her to do something against her will? If she really didn’t want to marry him, no matter how much doing so hurt, he would let her go. She roused feelings inside his chest he’d never imagined possible. If another man so much as looked as her with lewd intent…. His fingers twitched above the handle of his revolver.

  What kind of experience had Amanda had with men? Was he too big and tall for her? She was so petite. Smaller than any of the other women he knew. Just looking at her made his throat close and his heart beat loud enough for her to hear. He’d never been clumsy, but around her his hands and feet got tangled. He dare not let himself move too close to her when they were alone. Who knew what his strange, new emotions would cause him to do.

  He held the sleeping child next to his chest and raced back toward the shanty. Still time tonight to work on the cabin. He grunted. Maybe he should talk with Jake and Matthew. Ask them how to go about getting acquainted with his bride. Maybe they could tell him what about his person repelled her.

  No. He’d never been one to ask for advice. Wasn’t about to start. He could handle one small woman.

  As he sped pass the jail, Brenda all but ran into his chest. He lurched to a stop. “Hey, Brenda.”

  “Yeah, Frankie.” She gasped and craned her neck to look up at him. “I just wanted to remind you that anything you need, I’m your woman.”

&n
bsp; He spoke low so as not to wake Jamie. “Can’t stop to talk. I’m on my way back to the shanty to put Jamie to bed.”

  “Jamie?”

  “Baby Frank. Amanda and I decided to call him by his middle name.”

  She gave him a saucy smile. “You mean your high-faluting lady decided to call Baby Frank, Jamie.”

  “She’s going to be my wife. So you can call her Amanda. Maybe you two could become friends. She—”

  “You got to be joshing me, Frank. How can we be friends when she’s stealin’ my man?”

  “I’ve never been your man. And I never would be, even if Amanda hadn’t arrived.” He gave her arm a tap. “Why don’t you get to know her? Tell her why you like living in Angel Vale. Show her—”

  “No.” Brenda’s eyes filled with tears, and she pushed closer, all but waking Jamie. “We can never be friends. She took you away from me.”

  He swiped his Stetson off and slapped the big hat against his leg. “I’ve never been yours. You know that. Come on, do this one thing for me.” Brenda wouldn’t be his first choice for a friend for Amanda, but she was the best the town offered. Sal was too busy. And the Indian women didn’t speak much English.

  Jamie opened one eye and yawned.

  “You been leading me on all this time, Frankie? A girl has dreams.”

  “Stow the dramatics. There are a hundred other men in this town who’ll let you wind them around your little finger.” He stepped away from the tall redhead. “Tell you what. You make yourself a friend to Amanda, and I’ll give you the next gold nugget I dig up.”

  Brenda put a finger to her chin. Her hazel eyes took on a new gleam. “Give me your next five gold nuggets and you got yourself a deal.”

  Frank gulped. He resettled the blanket around Jamie. Take him months to dig up that many nuggets. Wasn’t like they pushed themselves to the top of the rocks in the icy creek water. “Two.”

  “Done. Just don’t you forget to pay me, or I’ll tell your little mail-order angel.”

  “I won’t forget. If you tattle, the deal’s off. Understood?” He held out a hand to shake.

  She stood on tiptoes and, mashing Jamie between them, grabbed him around the neck. Before he could break loose, she slapped a kiss right on his lips. And wouldn’t let go.

  He held Jamie with one arm, grabbed Brenda around the waist, and deposited her on the boardwalk a few feet away. “Enough. Deal’s sealed.”

  “You sure got it bad for that little piece of fluff.”

  “And you promised to make yourself her friend.” He turned and stomped on into the darkness.

  He blew on his hands, stiff in the chill air. Cold or no, he’d get out to the cabin and work on getting that home done. He could add one more log all the way around before midnight. Maybe when she saw how big and cozy her home would be when he finished construction, she would want to stay. He’d get a haircut tomorrow and buy a new shirt. Somehow he’d have to fit in working the claim.

  Women needed friends. Having Brenda for a friend might tip the balance in his favor. Worth a try. Brenda would befriend a grizzly to earn those two gold nuggets.

  He’d stop at nothing to keep his little Christmas Belle.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The sun hadn’t risen above the hills. The brightening at the horizon gave only the promise of dawn when Amanda knocked on Frank’s shanty door.

  No answer.

  Should she open the door and walk inside?

  She glanced down the single street toward where Frank had said his jail was located.

  There he was, striding toward her, a full milk pail swinging from one hand and a pickaxe draped over his other shoulder. The rising sun silhouetted his tall figure, his long legs devouring the distance between them. With his six-guns strapped to his lean hips, he looked every inch the Wyoming cowboy.

  She caught her breath. Her heart thudded. If she’d worn a tight corset, she would have swooned.

  “Morning.” A charming grin lit his face. “Thanks for arriving so early. Jamie was still sleeping when I left. He’s only been alone a few minutes.”

  “Beautiful day.” Was it? She hadn’t noticed until he came into sight.

  “It is now that you’re here.” He opened the shanty door for her.

  She all but skipped inside. “Perhaps if I came to the shanty before you milked Daisy, we wouldn’t have to leave Jamie alone.”

  “I would sure appreciate that.”

  She leaned over the crib. Jamie’s tiny hand twitched and his eyes opened. He greeted her with a wide toothless smile and coos.

  Together she and Frank managed to funnel some of the milk from the pail into the baby bottle. The two of them all but overwhelmed the small space. She had to edge around him to reach the rocker. Until the day before, she’d never been alone with a man. His vibrancy permeated the shanty, making her tingle from head to toe.

  “Coffee’s on the stove. I’ve got to run. Heard tell some of the fellas at the creek found some nuggets. I’ve got to pan some gold before they get any nuggets that might wash on downstream from my stake.” He bent, and his lips touched her cheek in a feather-soft caress.

  His touch left a warm, sweet spot on her cheek.

  The door opened letting in the promise of a lovely autumn day. Then he was gone.

  Amanda lifted Jamie from the cradle. His wide, blue eyes smiled up at her. She settled in the rocker, and the baby soon emptied the bottle.

  She laid Jamie on the sideboard and changed and dressed the contented child. How could a mother leave such a sweet baby on a danger-loving man’s doorstep? The woman must have been desperate. Why else would she choose such a man to care for her child?

  Ha. Easy answer to that one. The big man engraved duty on his forehead.

  With Jamie in her arms, she moved to the dying fire and stooped to poke the embers into life. She threw on another log from the new heap by the stone fireplace. For a shanty, the place was cozy and warm. The little boy grew heavy, so she shifted him to one hip. He was a good child. Seldom cried. Looked at her with a big grin as if she were the best sight in the world to him. He shared that with his adopted father. Both males expected her to fill a large void in their lives.

  Could she do it? Did she want to?

  She’d paced the room. Jamie snuggled to her shoulder as she rubbed his sturdy back to burp him. She’d thought she might miss the breezy two-story Saltbox home in Maine, but she didn’t. Not a whit. Nor did she miss Uncle Stephan’s grumbling and complaining. But she did miss the feel of dough in her hands and the scents of good things baking.

  She touched the sideboard Frank must have hammered together. A bit small, but perhaps she could set up a small bakery and sell her delicacies. She had no wish to burden Frank, although he seemed to have enough money to take care of her needs without undue stress.

  She threw the quilt on the wooden floor and laid Jamie on his stomach on the soft covering. He gurgled, laughed and waved his arms and legs like a turtle caught on his shell. She glanced at the cot where Frank must have slept. The single, thin blanket had been tucked in neatly. She poured steaming coffee into the cup he set out for her on the home-made table.

  She tried a sip. Umm. Strong, but flavorful. What would she do all day while she cared for Jamie? She sipped her coffee. How long since Frank had eaten a piece of home-made pie?

  Rummaging through the food on the shelves built into the side of the shanty, she pulled out some flour, cinnamon, and a bag of apples. She had plenty of milk. Frank would milk Daisy twice a day, and the cow had already given almost a full bucket. Behind a burlap bag of beans she discovered a large bag of sugar. After she found a big pie tin and a wooden bowl and spatula, she began to sing. Did Frank have a rolling pin? No matter. She’d shape this first crust with her hands.

  She peeled the apples, stirred in the sugar and cinnamon, and spooned the filling into the lovely crust she’d made. She cleaned the sideboard and set the pie on the wooden surface.

  Nice to have baby chuckles an
d cooing to cheer her rather than Uncle’s frowns and grumbles. She could so fall in love with the cuddly baby. Someone had to love the child. She knew too well how not being loved felt and what lack of love did to a person’s soul.

  If she let herself, she could bask in the love that radiated from Frank. She’d not been adored for too, too long, and the love that poured from him warmed her soul.

  But the man had so little time for her. He’d been in such a rush this morning, he’d barely taken time to tip his hat. With three jobs vying for his time, where would she fit in? Just as mother to his adopted child?

  And what if she allowed her starved heart to fall in love with Frank? He’d chase after outlaws and be gone for days.

  He might return draped over a saddle. Dead.

  She shivered.

  During the wagon ride, either Jake or Matthew had mentioned the Cheyenne and Black Hills Stage. Would it arrive today? She could take the stage as far as the Cheyenne stop of the Union Pacific railroad, and then take the train southeast to any place she desired.

  Jamie laughed his gurgling little laugh as if the whole world delighted him. She knelt, lifted him to her chest, hugged him, and joined her laugh with his. What a sweet little boy. His little legs tucked around her and his little arms hugged her.

  He would be difficult to leave.

  A knock on the door, and Frank burst into the room.

  She caught her breath.

  Mud clung to his cowboy boots. His ruddy wind-blown face broke into a grin when he saw them. He hung his jacket and Stetson on the pegs by the door. Rays of morning sun through the window caught the silver on his sheriff’s star, making the badge sparkle on the brown store-bought shirt he wore. His guns hung low over his lean hips. He’d had a haircut, a shave, and smelled manly.

  Amanda pressed her lips together.

  How often had Aunt Bessie May shaken a finger at her? She could hear her voice now. Don’t you ever trust a handsome man. If a man’s got a good-looking face, you can bet your life, he can’t be trusted.