Cowboy Christmas Guardian

by Dana Mentink

  “You have to ask?” she scolded. “I’ll put some clean sheets on the bed in Granddad’s cabin. She’ll be snug and safe as anything there.”

  Perfect, since Barrett’s bedroom window looked directly out on the cabin.

  “And when Ken gets home,” she said firmly, “we will help him clean up the mess properly.”

  Help Ken. The idea would have disgusted him a week before, but now it did not feel quite so distasteful. “Yes.”

  “You know,” she said softly. “God’s going to work good out of this. I can see it happening in you.”

  In him? God had to be pretty amazing to work good out of the present mess with Shelby. Was it possible he could rid himself of his long-simmering rage and forgive, not for Ken’s sake but for his own? It would be a tall order, very tall.

  “Be home soon, Mama.”

  Shelby locked up the shotgun, pulled the front door closed behind her and secured it. “Uncle Ken is going to try to catch an earlier flight, but he still won’t make it home before Monday afternoon. He’s really upset, of course, but he’s appreciative that your family is looking out for me.”

  Appreciative. Little did Ken know that Barrett was intrigued by his niece to the point where he could think of nothing else. Odd.

  Maybe he should be feeling guilty about having such strong feelings for another woman, but he knew Bree would want him to find another partner. She’d told him as much on one of those long summer nights when they’d sat on the porch, talking and watching the fireflies paint the skies over the ranch. She was unselfish like that. But to love someone whose uncle enabled his son to kill Bree? How could God mean for that to happen?

  God’s working good out of all this. I can see it happening in you.

  With an effort, Barrett pulled himself back to the reality of the situation. Problem solving, the soothing list of things to be done, details to work out. That’s what he craved.

  He mentally worked through the logistics of housing three extra horses, who to ask about how to clean paint off Ken’s hardwood floor and how to structure his chores so he could be sure Shelby did not go sneaking off into the mine without taking him along. He did not like the angry glint to her eye and the set to her chin. If Hatcher intended to scare her off from her explorations, he’d missed the mark by a mile.

  Something odd and primal pulsed in Barrett’s stomach as he pulled into the Gold Bar property. He had the feeling that he was bringing Shelby to the place she belonged, his home, his world, as if she was his woman, his soul mate. It was the way he had felt about Bree, that she was his and he would do anything in the world for her, anything at all.

  Struck motionless by the thought, he stared out the window, the truck idling in the front drive. She reached out her hand and cupped his fingers in hers.

  “I feel like I’m trespassing.”

  “No,” he said softly. I wouldn’t want you anyplace else, he wanted to add, but he’d already made a fool of himself one too many times that day. “You’re welcome here. Don’t think anything different.”

  She gathered up her purse while he hopped out and opened the passenger door for her. His father had the front door ajar before Barrett made it there.

  “Shelby, I am so very sorry that this is the kind of treatment you’ve got from Gold Bar. It’s beyond comprehension.”

  To Barrett’s great surprise, Shelby started to cry. Tom Thorn, who was strong enough to fight for his family and love a complete stranger, folded her in an embrace.

  “It’s going to be all right,” he said, patting her back. “When you’re staying here, you’re an honorary Thorn and nothing is going to happen to you. I guarantee it.”

  Barrett saw Owen, Jack and Keegan standing behind their father. Their faces showed varying degrees of emotion: Jack complacent, Keegan enjoying the whole spectacle and Owen reserved and still suspicious. He knew all three of them would honor their father’s words and protect Shelby Arroyo, no matter their own feelings.

  Pride mingled with his confusion. God made something special when he put the Thorn family together. He watched his mother draw Shelby inside, no doubt to try to tempt her into eating something. He busied himself with fussing over the horses, who didn’t need it, and checking the supply of hay, which was more than adequate.

  When his mother was finished, he walked Shelby to Granddad’s cabin. His mother had left the lights on and turned down the bed. She’d even placed a plastic-wrapped plate of Christmas cookies on the table.

  Shelby sighed. “Oh, I wish she hadn’t gone to the trouble.”

  “Trouble? You made her whole holiday season, and this way Keegan won’t eat the entire batch all by himself.”

  Barrett went to the corner and plugged in a string of lights, illuminating the small tree that had been in the family room. Shelby gasped, the lights reflecting in the pools of her eyes.

  “There was no need to move it here for me,” she whispered.

  “Like Dad said, you’re an honorary Thorn, and that means you get the full holiday treatment.”

  He made sure the windows and back door were locked, just for extra good measure.

  “Good night, Shelby.”

  “Good night.” Her voice was soft and tender.

  Though he wanted to look back and see her silhouetted in the lamplight, he forced himself to keep walking, distancing himself from feelings that his heart could make no sense of.

  * * *

  Shelby was up with the sun, alerted to morning by the soft sounds of ranch life. Peeking out the window, she caught her breath at the sight of Barrett forking flakes of hay down into his truck to deliver to the waiting horses. His breath steamed in the cold air. He worked alongside his brother Jack.

  The lights were on in the ranch house where she imagined Evie was busily preparing breakfast. Shelby dressed quickly, tying back her hair and swiping on a quick brush of mascara and lip gloss, chastising herself as she did so.

  Who is this vanity for? Barrett? You’re not going to be a couple, get that through your head. Her head was not the problem, unfortunately. It was her heart that did not want to listen to the list of reasons why Barrett was an unsuitable match. The list was compelling enough.

  First, there was the problem of her uncle and their mutual familial hatred. If that wasn’t enough, Barrett had obviously been desperately in love with his wife and he was simply confusing a mild attraction with something deeper. Furthermore, she had no intention of staying around after the mine was properly assayed. Aside from visits to her Uncle Ken, she had plans to open her own assayer’s office in Arizona where her sister was attending school, close to their mother.

  Her stomach clamped tight at that thought. There were so many things she should say to her mother, things which would not be received by the woman who no longer even remembered who Shelby was.

  She realized she was standing as frozen as a statue, while her mind ran rampant. “Get it together,” she hissed at herself, pulling on her jacket and yanking open the door.

  Barrett and Jack looked up as she strode purposefully toward the stables.

  “Good morning. I thought I’d check on Diamond and her partners in crime.”

  “We’ve got them in the western pasture by themselves for now. They were skittish after their eventful night.” Barrett peered at her as if wondering if she felt the same.

  “I’m going into town,” she announced, “to talk to Oscar Livingston about access to the mine.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Barrett said.

  “No need.”

  “I’ve got to get some brackets to put the tables together for the Christmas Eve dinner and your truck is still at your uncle’s place, so why don’t you hitch a ride with me?”

  Why? She’d just given herself three good reasons why. “But...”

  Barrett was talking to
his brother.

  Evie called from the house, “Time for breakfast.”

  Shelby wanted to flee, but how could she face that smiling woman and turn down her gracious hospitality? Feebly, she followed Jack and Barrett into the kitchen.

  The scent of sausages and scrambled eggs made her mouth water. Tom greeted her with a cheerful smile. Evie gestured her to a chair and poured coffee into mugs at the wide table. The wood bore the scars and nicks from generations of people who had gathered around it over the years.

  Shelby imagined the little grandchildren that would come along one day, sitting at that same table, hunched over coloring books or learning to roll out piecrusts like Grandma Evie. Her own childhood had been punctuated by moments like these, until their father left. Then it was as if a darkness had settled over the family, in spite of their mother’s desperate attempts to lighten it.

  The anger had gradually taken over Shelby’s soul, and with it a need to punish the person she felt was responsible, the wrong person. Her father did not want the children he had made. She should be brimming with rage at him, shouldn’t she? But she found she was only filled with sadness at what she had lost, the years she could never get back.

  Did the Thorns understand what a precious thing they housed between the old ranch house walls?

  She looked at Barrett, Evie, Tom, and she knew the answer was yes. They had all endured great sorrow at the death of Bree and they knew how fragile a blessing could be.

  Owen and Keegan joined the group, cheeks ruddy from the cold morning. Before she knew what was coming, Barrett had taken one of her hands and Evie the other. The brothers completed the circle and Tom said a simple grace. The company broke into a lively conversation about ranch duties.

  Evie dished up a plateful for Shelby. “We’re going to the evening church service tonight, honey. You’re invited, of course. They added that service for those ranching types, who have plenty of early chores.”

  “Or just can’t get up in the morning,” Owen said, laughing at Keegan who was in midyawn.

  “Thank you,” Shelby said, trying to figure out a way to politely decline. She feared it would be awkward, downright painful, to attend church with everyone’s eyes on her, the whispers about the newcomer whose life had been threatened on a regular basis.

  “Meg at the church said she could use more pickles for the soup kitchen’s Christmas Day luncheon,” Evie said to Barrett.

  Keegan laughed. “Better start rationing. We’re down to the last fifteen cases.”

  “Funny,” Barrett said. “You’re just jealous because you don’t know how to cook anything but toast.”

  Jack startled Shelby by speaking. “He doesn’t know how to make toast either.”

  She joined in the laughter, marveling at how the levity buoyed her spirits and pushed away the fear from the night before.

  She was halfway through her eggs when there was a knock at the door. Jack admitted Officer Larraby, who declined the offer of coffee and breakfast. He looked ill at ease in the Thorn house. Shelby’s nerves went taut as she waited for him to report his findings.

  “I came to let you know that Hatcher has an alibi for last night.”

  Shelby dropped her fork. “I don’t believe it.”

  “His daughter, Emmaline, says he was home all night.”

  “She’s lying because she’s scared of him,” Shelby said. “He’s a tyrant.”

  Larraby shrugged. “Possibly, but his truck engine was cold, hadn’t been driven.”

  “He could easily have come on foot,” Barrett put in. “It’s not more than a mile to Ken’s place.”

  “He wasn’t the least bit wet when I spoke to him. Hair dry, coat dry on the rack, boots dry, too.”

  “So he changed, dried his hair,” she said. “You can’t possibly think he’s innocent.”

  “It doesn’t matter what I think,” he snapped. “My job is to enforce the law and there’s no evidence to arrest him. No prints at your uncle’s place, no tire tracks, no eyewitnesses and nothing to refute his alibi.”

  Barrett threw down his napkin. “How about all the threats he’s made to Shelby? The knife he pulled on her at the museum? Guy’s clearly out to get her.”

  “Like I said, not enough,” Larraby said, moving toward the door.

  “When will it be enough?” Shelby said. “When I’m dead?” The words dropped like bombs in the quiet kitchen.

  “We’ll keep digging,” Larraby said. “I’ll let you know if we come up with anything. Sorry to interrupt your breakfast.”

  “Where’s his ex-wife?” Shelby blurted.

  Larraby blinked. “What?”

  “I heard in town from a waitress at the coffee shop that his wife, Cora, left him almost five years ago.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure the gossips loved that whole drama. What does it have to do with the present situation?”

  “Emmaline said Cora was an amateur geologist, that she’d spent time in the mine. When Barrett and I were down there, it was clear that someone had done some exploring, left some marks behind.”

  “That mine is more than a hundred years old.”

  “The marks were recent.”

  “I still don’t see where you’re going with all this.”

  “I wondered if Cora would be willing to talk to me about what she saw down there. It might explain why Hatcher is so reluctant to let me in. Maybe he knows there’s a rich vein of gold and he wants to keep it for himself.”

  Larraby shook his head. “Sounds like you’re cooking up some wild theories.”

  Shelby stared at him. “What happened at the stable last night was not my imagination. I’m going to find out who is responsible, with or without your help.”

  Larraby folded his arms across his chest. “We’re investigating and I’m doing my job.”

  “And I’m going to do mine, also.”

  “You do that, Miss Arroyo, but whacking on the hornet’s nest by prying into Cora’s life is asking for trouble.”

  “They’re divorced. He doesn’t get to decide who Cora talks to anymore.”

  “She chose to leave Gold Bar and as far as I know, she never looked back.”

  “Yeah,” Shelby said, thinking of her own father. “Well, maybe it’s time she did, whether she wants to or not.”

  “Like I said, if you mess with the nest, you’re likely to get stung, but I can see my advice is falling on deaf ears so I’ll go about my business.” Larraby departed, the door slamming shut behind him.

  Shelby realized everyone in the kitchen was now staring at her.

  “I’m sorry. I think I’ve ruined your breakfast.”

  “No,” Owen said, his blue eyes so like Barrett’s. “But Larraby does have a point. Hatcher’s divorce is his business.”

  “My horses almost burned to death and there’s a threat painted on my uncle’s living room wall, so I’m not so concerned about Hatcher’s feelings at the moment.”

  Owen’s face was contemplative rather than hostile as she got up from the table. The men stood to be polite, a gesture which made her blush. Still courteous in spite of the trouble she had brought right into their midst.

  Barrett caught up with her outside.

  “Ready to head to town?”

  She arched an eyebrow. “I didn’t think you’d still want to be involved with a woman who’s whacking a hornet’s nest.” She’d thought he’d smile, instead his face was dead serious.

  “Like Dad said, you’re an honorary Thorn. Thorns stick together, even when we disagree.”

  She swallowed. “Your brother Owen might not accept that.”

  “Owen has his own battles to wage. This family is all he has left and he’ll fight to the death to protect it.”

  “Seems to me like that would describe all four of you
.”

  He nodded. “Yes, ma’am. Now, are you ready to go?”

  “Yes.”

  “All right. I just gotta load a case of pickles into the truck.”

  She smiled as she watched him go. For some reason, she’d been provided the comforting shield of the Thorn family.

  You’ll Die. It was a threat she could not allow to spread to Barrett and his kin. She would risk her own life for her uncle and the truth, but she’d make sure no danger would fall on the Thorns.

  SIXTEEN

  Barrett delivered the pickles before he picked up the boxes of brackets and a dozen folding chairs that the hardware store owner loaned out on a regular basis. Shelby helped him load the chairs into the bed of the truck, though he didn’t want her to.

  “Chivalry is nice and all that,” she said, as they slid the wood in the back, “but four hands are better than two and my hands are pretty strong.”

  He had no doubt of that. Across the street from the hardware store was a thrift store with colorful dresses and handbags displayed in the window. Shelby’s attention was caught and he followed her gaze.

  Emmaline was exiting with a shopping bag. Shelby hastened over, Barrett following.

  “Hi, Emmaline,” Shelby said.

  The woman shied like a startled colt. “Oh, hi.”

  “Doing some Christmas shopping?” Shelby asked.

  Emmaline shrugged. “Not really. I just needed a plain apron so I can add some holiday trim. There was a skirt, too, I’ve been admiring with this really pretty beading along the hem. I love fancy clothes even though I have no occasion to wear them.”

  The sadness of that statement tugged at Barrett’s heart. “You’re coming to Christmas Eve at the Gold Bar, right?” Barrett suggested. “That’s an occasion if I ever heard one. I even wear my best jeans, the ones without the hole in the knee.”

  She offered a tentative smile. “Imagine that.” She twisted the handle of the bag. “Um, I know you probably want to talk to me about the thing that happened at your uncle’s place. The police did, too. I told them everything. My dad was at home with me and I’m not going to talk about it anymore no matter how much you pressure me.” She clamped her mouth closed.