Silver Belles and Stetsons

by Caroline Clemmons

  Silver Belles and Stetsons

  By

  Kathleen Ball, Cait Braxton, Caroline Clemmons, Carra Copelin, Kristin Holt, Lyn Horner, Susan Horsnell, Paty Jager, Hebby Roman and Margaret Tanner

  Published By Lilburn Smith

  Copyright © 2015 Lilburn Smith

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, businesses, events, or locales is purely coincidental.

  Table Of Contents

  The Greatest Gift:

  Stone Mountain Christmas

  Catherine’s Cowboy

  Angel And The Texan From County Cork

  The Drifter’s Proposal

  The Perfect Gift

  Marshal Mistletoe

  Christmas Redemption

  A Hard Candy Christmas

  Cowboy Christmas

  The Greatest Gift:

  A Montana Cowboy Christmas

  By

  Kathleen Ball

  The Greatest Gift

  A Montana Cowboy Christmas

  By

  Kathleen Ball

  Copyright © 2015 Kathleen Ball

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, businesses, events, or locales is purely coincidental.

  Chapter One

  Foster O’Donnell woke to total stillness, the silence of his world blanketed in snow. Throwing off his covers, he placed his feet on the cold wood floor and grimaced. He quickly dressed. He shook his head at his calico cat, Patches. “Staying in bed? Can’t say that I blame you.” Usually he kept cats in the barn to kill the mice, but Patches was a special case. Being the smallest of the litter, she got pushed aside until she lay alone, starving. From that moment on, he made sure Patches got her fair share.

  He walked through the great room. The old hand-honed wooden cabin was freezing. He was grateful for the secondhand black and rusted wood stove. It heated the house fairly well. He stoked the banked embers and threw in some kindling to start the fire. Finally, it was burning enough for some bigger pieces of wood.

  Throwing on his coat, boots and hat, he grabbed his lantern and headed out to the barn. His horses came first. They were his future. He’d invested everything into catching and breeding the mustangs, and he hoped for many more offspring.

  A loud wrenching scream rang through the air. Startled, Foster raced to the barn. He opened the door and there on a mound of fresh hay lay a pretty little thing with red hair and blue eyes. Suddenly she grabbed her stomach and screamed again.

  “Oh no, you’re not having any baby here in my barn.”

  “Oh, thank God. Help me to your house please.” She stared at him with pain and fear in her eyes.

  “No.”

  “Look, like it or not this little one is coming into the world. I need you. I’m Ginger Galway.” Tears filled her eyes.

  “It’s almost Christmas. Where’s your family?”

  She glanced away. “This baby is my family.”

  Ginger screamed again and he couldn’t take it. Bending down, he scooped her into his arms, amazed how little she weighed. He quickly carried her into the cabin and laid her on his bed. “I’ll put on water to heat and then help you.”

  “You’ve delivered babies?” Her eyes pleaded with him to say yes.

  “No just foals, oh and a few kittens.”

  “Horses?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I’m Foster O’Donnell.”

  “No you’re not. Who are you? Foster is the father. I know that good-for-nothing skunk Foster O’Donnell, and it isn’t you. Though why’d you want to be that low life—” She doubled over. “It hurts.”

  He hadn’t a clue what she meant. She was babbling about another Foster? Maybe giving birth did something to a woman’s brain. “Is this your first child?”

  “Look at me, I’m barely out of school. Of course, it’s my first child. I know, I know many girls get married right out of school, but I wanted to leave my hometown. I planned to be a teacher. I got my certificate and everything. But my aunt insisted I visit her in Chicago and that snake Foster came sniffing around, and I fell for all his lies. To my mortification and ever living shame I believed him.”

  “So you’re Mrs. O’Donnell?” he asked as he took off her shoes.

  She bit her lip and turned her head before she screamed in pain again. “No,” she gasped. “I already told you my name is Ginger Galway. What are you doing?”

  “I need to get most of your clothes off so the baby can come.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “It better be all you’re doing.”

  Foster stood up straight and put his hands on his hips. “I have no desire seeing a woman in pain. I know we don’t know each other but there will be parts of you I will have to see. I know it’s awkward and downright embarrassing, but I don’t see any other choice.”

  “Why aren’t you married?” She looked him up and down. “Is there something wrong with you?”

  Her words stung. “I was almost married once. Patty was her name. She liked me well enough, I guess, but didn’t like the ranch. She knew I had a horse ranch but she expected bigger and better. She called my place a hovel.” He put twine, a knife and some cloths into the boiling water.

  “A hovel? She should see where I lived. Some people just don’t know how to be grateful for what they have. When I first found myself with child, I bemoaned my circumstances, but this is a miracle given to me by God to care for. It hasn’t been easy, especially wandering around these last few days, but you found me.” She screamed in pain. Perspiration formed on her brow, and he took a clean cloth and wiped it away. She grabbed his hand and squeezed it as she screamed again.

  Patches jumped on the bed, took one look at Ginger, hissed, and jumped back down.

  “What was that?” She squeezed his hand harder.

  “That’s Patches, my cat.”

  “Oh.”

  Damn she was a strong one. He waited for the contraction to subside before he gently took his hand back. “The time is nearing.” He took out the cloths from the water and laid them on the table he’d just cleaned. Next he got the knife and twine out of the water. He put the kettle on the table as well. He next poured some cold water into a pot. He wasn’t sure how much she’d bleed but he knew the child would need to be cleaned. “I’m going to have to lift up your dress and see if the baby is starting to come out. This is no time for modesty.” He stared into her blue eyes.

  She nodded with tears in her eyes. “I understand. I wish you’d tell me your real name.”

  “Ma’am, my real name is Foster. I have a good i
dea who you met up with, though. I have a brother; we took different paths in life. This sounds like his doing.” The baby was crowning. “Just a few more pushes, ma’am.”

  “My name is Ginger,” she gasped between each word.

  “Ginger, push hard when the pain comes again. I’m hoping to get a shoulder out. It’s almost here! Push!” He grabbed the baby with a clean cloth. Quickly he tied off the umbilical cord and cut it with the sterile scissors. Gently he cleaned the baby and put it on Ginger’s chest. “It’s a girl. Hold her while I get you cleaned up.”

  Ginger gave him a dazed smile. “A girl! Imagine that.” Tears ran down her face. “I’m glad I made a run for it. My pa would have put her out in the snow to freeze. He has no use for a girl. He told me so. If it was a boy he said he’d name him Foster so I’d remember my disgrace.” She stroked the baby’s head. “A redhead, good, maybe she won’t look a thing like that, dang I don’t even know his name.”

  “Albert, Albert O’Donnell. My brother from hell.” He busied himself birthing the afterbirth and cleaning her. He knew the possibility of infection. He was always careful with his mares.

  “He doesn’t look like you.”

  “He wouldn’t. My mother married his pa. There’s no blood between us. Just a common name.”

  “Strange I ended up here and all. It’s miracle I found anywhere to rest at all.”

  Foster put on his coat and grabbed the afterbirth, wrapped in towels. “I need to bury this. I’ll be back.” He closed the door behind him. A miracle? Perhaps a curse if it involved his brother. Ginger’s family must have money or Albert wouldn’t have bothered. His teeth chattered a bit as the wind blew stronger. Another snowstorm was headed his way. He’d have to tend to the horses later. In weather like this, they’d need the hay he bought for such an emergency. Getting it to them was the hard part. What was he going to do with Ginger and her baby? They certainly weren’t his responsibility. She did have a point. Of all the possible places she could have ended up at, it was his ranch she came to.

  Was her story even true? His brother asked to be part owner of the horse ranch when he saw it was making money. Not much but enough to buy hay. That was a few years back. Could be he was working with Ginger to get his ranch. His theory made more sense than her story.

  ***

  A girl. Ginger’s heart swelled as she stared at her daughter. Thank God, she found shelter. Foster, she had hated the name and the man. Her Foster didn’t have wavy brown hair that hung to his shoulders or brown eyes with gold flecks in them. Nor did he have the look of a well-muscled man. Probably from all the ranch work. No, her Foster was blond, blue-eyed and compared to his brother a weakling. He was soft all over. A real sweet talker and she foolishly allowed him to talk her into his bed.

  He proposed but asked her not to announce it. He was waiting for his family from New York to travel for the wedding and wanted to tell them in person. It mattered to him so she agreed. Her face heated as she thought of how easily he’d gotten her into his bed and tears of shame ran down her face. He laughed when she told him about the child. He actually laughed and left town the next day, leaving her to face her aunt, who, after slapping her face, promptly sent her home.

  She took a deep breath and got ahold of herself. Today was a new day and she had a beautiful baby girl. It was hard but she sat up, placed the baby on her lap, and unwrapped her. What a darling girl. Her fingers and toes were so tiny. Her ears, her mouth everything was small and perfect. Her father had called her a sin and she’d half believed the child wouldn’t be born right.

  The frigid wind blew in as Foster came back inside. She quickly wrapped her baby and held her close. “Thank you,” she said and quickly looked away. She’d always been shy and awkward until Fos—Albert.

  “She seems healthy enough. I know you’re tired but I need the truth from you. How long have you and Albert been planning this?” His voice was gritty with anger.

  Her stomach clenched. He was getting ready to put her out. “Your brother ran out on me.”

  “So you came here expecting me to take responsibility for you and the baby?” He scowled.

  “I’m so tired. I can’t fight with you and I have a feeling whatever I say you’d think it wrong. I’m just asking to stay a few days until I’m healed up to go. It’s my problem and I’ll find the solution.”

  His brow furrowed and he nodded. At least she had a few days out of the winter cold.

  “Of course. There’s a better time for this talk. I’m sorry.” He walked close to the bed and gazed down at the baby. “She sure is a pretty lass.”

  “Yes, she is.” She yawned.

  “You need to sleep. Go ahead I’ll watch out for the wee one.”

  She opened her mouth to answer but promptly fell asleep.

  She dreamt about a baby crying and a strong yet gentle voice trying to comfort the baby. It was such a peaceful feeling, she didn’t want to wake up, but slowly she became alert enough to know her baby was crying and Foster was talking to her.

  “You’re awake,” Foster said, his voice cheery and his face glowing faintly.

  “I bet she’s hungry. Will you hand her to me? How long did I sleep?” She sat up and held her arms out. They exchanged smiles as Foster put the baby in her arms.

  “A few hours. She’s a real sweetheart. I think she smiled at me. I know she waved at me. She seems to have taken a shine to Patches.”

  Ginger wanted to laugh but kept it to herself. No baby waved this early and there was no way she already liked the cat. “I’ll feed her if you don’t mind turning your back.”

  “I have to go and tend the horses. Some are a good distance from here, so don’t be alarmed if I’m not back by nightfall. I left some bread and stew for you and I made a cradle. Well, it’s really a crate, but I put a clean blanket in it.” He grabbed his hat, coat, gloves and scarf before leaving.

  “My sweet love, let me see if we can get this feeding figured out. I know it’s supposed to be natural so let’s try it.” She untied the top of her chemise and let if fall. She took one arm then the other out of it and held the baby to her breast. As she suckled, she sighed in relief. “I promise to be the best mama I know how.” She knew enough to change from one breast to the other.

  While the baby suckled, Ginger glanced around Foster’s home. It was cozy and warm. Whoever made it put time into it to be sure the winter wind didn’t come through. There against one wall was the cook stove. All the kettles and skillets were placed in one crate near the stove. Patches lay in front of the stove napping. Tableware, a few tin cups, and plates graced shelves above the crate. A row of crates were hung vertically and held foodstuffs. She would have never thought to make shelves in that fashion. It was clever. There were pegs around the room. Some held clothes and there was a bridle hanging from one. The eating table had seen better days, but it too looked clean, and there were two chairs and two wooden stools.

  The floor was made of wood and she stared at it. She’d only lived in places with dirt floors except for the time she lived in Chicago with her aunt. Her aunt had offered to make a match for her and she went to Chicago at her father’s insistence. She was there for a long while until a few months after she met F-Albert. Goodness, it was hard to think of Albert as Albert and not Foster. She’d been sent home, disgraced. Back to the dirt floors.

  Why her? Why out of all the socialites in Chicago did Albert pick her? She sighed. He knew she was plain stupid. It really was the only answer. Her father told her often enough she’d squandered her only chance for a good life. Tracing her fingers over her daughter’s eyebrows, nose, and mouth, she shivered. Her father would have put the baby out in the snow, she had no doubt.

  What to do? Where would they go? At least she had a couple days to figure it all out. She and the baby dozed on and off most of the day. Opening her eyes, the darkness surprised her. Slowly she got out of bed and lit a candle. There were two oil lamps but oil was too dear to use except for emergencies. Her stomach gurgled
and she smiled. Foster’s stew smelled wonderful and she was grateful for the chance to fill her belly again. It seemed like it’d been empty for far too long. Bending, she picked up a few small logs, threw them in the fire, and then helped herself to some dinner.

  Her whole body ached and she was weak, but she was warm. It was a miracle her hands and feet weren’t frost bitten. She’d thought for sure she’d lose a few toes. Closing her eyes, she thanked God. She’d been blessed her whole journey to the ranch. There were a few times she wanted to lie down and give up, but she plodded along in the bitter cold.

  The door opened and Foster came in, stamping the snow off his boots. His gaze immediately went to the bed then he glanced her way and smiled. He was rather handsome when he smiled.

  “I’ll grab more wood,” he said as his gaze lingered on her. Finally, he turned toward the door and went back outside.

  She wished she was the reason for his smile, but they didn’t know each other. He probably smiled because she was out of bed, meaning she would be able to leave fairly soon. They were an intrusion. When the baby began to fuss Ginger went to the bed and sat down; she uncovered her breasts and started to feed her daughter.

  Foster entered with a pile of wood in his arms. He knelt and put it into a stack, while Patches jumped in and out of his way, then turned her way. Her heart thumped at the way Foster looked at her breasts. Raw desire leapt into his eyes before he glanced away.

  Her face heated as her heart continued to thump. “I’m sorry. I should have covered up somehow.”

  “No, that’s what mothers do, they feed their babies.” He helped himself to dinner and sat at the table. “Have you named her yet?”

  “No, I had so hoped it wasn’t a girl. I refused to entertain the notion of a girl’s name.”

  “You could name her after your mother.”

  “Molly. That is such a sweet name. You’re right; I will name her after my mother. Molly O’Donnell.”

  “O’Donnell?” His brow furrowed.