Mama said, “Oh, but, George…”
Dad took her hand. “Come along, dear. Remember when we were in their situation. They don’t require us hovering.”
Mama sighed. “You’re right, of course. We’ll say goodnight.”
“Before you go, my parents asked me to invite you to share Christmas Day at the ranch. I hope that fits with your plans.”
Dad looked at Mama before answering, “We’d be honored. Goodnight.”
When her parents had retired, Celia stood and embraced her fiancé. She’d promised herself she’d settle for nothing less than love. Though love arrived faster than she would have believed possible, she had no doubt her ardor was genuine.
He kissed her before pulling her onto his lap in the chair her mother had vacated. “Querida, you have indeed made me happy. I have longed to tell you how much I loved you. I told myself I would wither into an old man if you refused me.”
She cupped his face. “Estoy desesperadamente enamorado de ti. Quiero estar contigo para siempre. In case my pronunciation is not correct, I’ll answer that I have fallen hopelessly in love with you and want to be with you forever.”
His surprise evident, he pulled her back into his arms. “You understood me all this time?”
“I was afraid if you knew, you would stop calling me by those wonderful endearments.” She slid her arms around his neck as their lips met.
Briefly, he broke the kiss to whisper, “Para siempre. Forever, my beautiful love.”
~ The End ~
Dear Reader,
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Read Caroline’s western historical titles:
Josephine, Bride Brigade book 1
The Surprise Brides: Jamie, released simultaneously with three other The Surprise Bride books which are Gideon by Cynthia Woolf, Caleb by Callie Hutton, and Ethan by Sylvia McDaniel, each book about one of the Fraser brothers of Angel Springs, Colorado
The Most Unsuitable Wife, Kincaids book one
The Most Unsuitable Husband, Kincaids book two
The Most Unsuitable Courtship, Kincaids book three
Gabe Kincaid, Kincaids book four
Brazos Bride, Men of Stone Mountain Texas book one, Free
Buy the Audiobook here
High Stakes Bride, Men of Stone Mountain Texas book two
Buy the Audiobook here
Bluebonnet Bride, Men of Stone Mountain Texas book three
Tabitha’s Journey, a Stone Mountain Texas mail-order bride novella
Stone Mountain Reunion, a Stone Mountain Texas short story
Stone Mountain Christmas, a Stone Mountain Texas novella
Winter Bride, a Stone Mountain romance
The Texan’s Irish Bride, McClintocks book one, Free
O’Neill’s Texas Bride, McClintocks book two
McClintock’s Reluctant Bride, McClintock’s book three
Save Your Heart For Me, a western romance adventure novella
Long Way Home, a sweet Civil War adventure romance novella. Kindle only
Caroline’s Time Travel
Out Of The Blue, 1845 Irish lass comes forward to today
Caroline’s Contemporary Titles
Be My Guest, mildly sensual
Snowfires, sensual
Home Sweet Texas Home, Texas Home book one (sweet)
Caroline’s Mysteries:
Almost Home, a Link Dixon mystery
Death In The Garden, a Heather Cameron cozy mystery, Kindle only
Take Advantage of Bargain Boxed Sets:
Wild Western Women Ride Again, Kirsten Osbourne, Callie Hutton, Caroline Clemmons, Sylvia McDaniel, and Merry Farmer, available only at Amazon, Kindle only
Wild Western Women: Kirsten Osbourne, Callie Hutton, Caroline Clemmons, Sylvia McDaniel, and Merry Farmer. Kindle only
Mail-Oder Tangle: Linked books Mail-Order Promise by Caroline Clemmons and Mail-Order Ruckus by Jacquie Rogers, Kindle Only
10 Timeless Heroes, time travels include Out Of The Blue and novels by Sky Purington, Skhye Moncreif, Donna Michaels, Beth Trissel, P. L. Parker,L. L. Muir, Linda LaRoque, and Nancy Lee Badger. Kindle only
Silver Belles and Stetsons, Christmas novellas from a ten authors
Men of Stone Mountain, contains the first three of the Stone Mountain Texas books: Brazos Bride, High Stakes Bride, and Bluebonnet Bride. Kindle Only
Rawhide ‘n Roses, fifteen 2,000 word short stories by various western historical authors, nominated for the Rhone Award, all proceeds go to Black Hills Wild Horse Rescue
About the Author
Caroline Clemmons is an Amazon bestselling author of historical and contemporary western romances whose books have garnered numerous awards. A frequent speaker at conferences and seminars, she has taught workshops on characterization, point of view, and layering a novel.
Caroline is a member of Romance Writers of America, Yellow Rose Romance Writers, From The Heart Romance Writers, and Hearts Through History Romance Writers. Her latest publications include the acclaimed historical Men of Stone Mountain series: BRAZOS BRIDE, HIGH STAKES BRIDE, and BLUEBONNET BRIDE and the audio books of BRAZOS BRIDE and HIGH STAKES BRIDE.
Caroline and her husband live in the heart of Texas cowboy country with their menagerie of rescued pets. Prior to writing full time, her jobs included stay-at-home mom (her favorite), secretary, newspaper reporter and featured columnist, assistant to the managing editor of a psychology journal, bookkeeper for the local tax assessor and—for a short and fun time—an antique dealer. When she’s not indulging her passion for writing, Caroline enjoys reading, travel, antiquing, genealogy, oil painting, and getting together with friends. Find her on her blog, website, Facebook, Twitter, Goodreads, and Pinterest.
Catherine’s Cowboy
A Western Romance Christmas Novella
by
Cait Braxton
Catherine’s Cowboy
A Western Romance Christmas Novella
By
Cait Braxton
Copyright © 2015 Cait Braxton
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.
About Catherine’s Cowboy
On the run from her vicious Kiowa husband, Catherine seeks shelter from a raging dust storm when labor begins. Fate steps in when retired tracker Elam also seeks refuge from the elements and stumbles upon the same ramshackle dwelling. Elam helps Catherine deliver her child and a strong bond forms between them. But outside, biding his time until the squall passes someone longs to claim both of their lives and take what is rightfully his…the child.
***
I'm going north where the grey wolf country is.
The wolves might eat or kill me.
I may not come back.
Brother, if I don't come back, you will cry for me.
Chapter One
New Mexico
Autumn 1870
Blinded by the torrential dust storm, Tapco supported her belly with one hand and gripped the rope around Wolf-dog’s neck with the other. Pain stabbed at her insides and spread outward to every limb but she’d come too far to surrender
to the gale battering her body. The heathens would find her if she stopped long enough to draw breath.
“Don’t stop, Wolf-dog. Atta boy, keep going.”
Keeping his body low, his muzzle snuffling the ground, the mongrel plunged forward; to where, she couldn’t fathom. A shrill bark cut through the mayhem of cyclonic gusts and gritty sand. Had the beast found shelter?
She cried out with relief when the frame of a dwelling came into her obscure line of vision. With an anxious whine, the dog led her to the crude door and rested on his haunches while she kicked it open.
“You did it, you wonderful creature, you did it,” she said above the roar.
Releasing her grasp on the rope around his neck, she allowed him free rein to enter. Please, please let the cabin be uninhabited. With silent stealth, the dog checked every corner and returned to her side, his tail wagging, his soulful eyes watching her every move. She stumbled toward a post in one corner, biting her bottom lip to keep from collapsing under the wretched assault on her body.
Wrapping her arms around the column, she panted through the excruciating torment and then sent a prayer skyward. “You have blessed me twice this day, Mountain Spirits. My heart thanks you.”
The angry wind moaned outside and seeped through the fissures of the timbered walls. What did she expect for such a remote dwelling at the end of this godforsaken wilderness? Evidence someone once lived here existed, but had spent little time adorning the rough-hewn walls. A chamber pot peeked out from beneath a dingy mattress; one Catherine knew the occupant shared with insects and other unimaginable crawlers. Although in desperate need of hot water, she couldn’t risk a fire. Chimney smoke would draw the wretched heathens tracking her to Hell and back. Gomda’s evil face rose behind her swollen, grit-ridden lids. What method of torture he’d inflict if he found her was anyone’s guess, but her death would not be swift. She’d witnessed too often their thirst for revenge, their never-ending lust to torture and maim.
Delirium and reality warred in her brain, and yet one thing was clear--the man spawned from Satan had commandeered the wind to hinder her escape once they discovered she’d fled the village. She’d witnessed Gomda’s power to alter the elements, call the rain from the sky or force the sun into hiding.
Her spirit hungered for freedom, had hungered for ten years to reclaim the life they stole from her. She had schemed and plotted, chosen the worst time and yet the best time, to flee from the devil’s minion. During those desolate years, dishonor, shame and guilt had cloaked her every thought but she’d bidden her time and took a chance when her enemies least expected it.
Wolf-dog emitted a guttural growl and Tapco’s spine curdled with fear. How had the heathens found her so soon? Poor beast would be killed first...before they descended on her. In her condition, she could do nothing to prevent her faithful friend’s demise, much less thank him for leading her through the dust storm to this temporary sanctuary. While the phantom of death circled her head, she pulled the knife from her knee-high moccasin and focused on the one thing that mattered, the cause of her horrendous pain and the only reason to stay alive for now.
The dog rose to a squat, shoulders down, rump high in the air and his long, white fangs primed for attack. He would take down one and she would the steal the breath from another before....
The door flew open. Underneath the frame stood a tall, dark form, his leather duster open and hugging a pair of high, black boots. Saddlebags rode his left shoulder, and a shotgun that could blow both her and Wolf-dog to smithereens rested against his right. A revolver was cradled in a leather scabbard across his chest, and the haft of a Bowie knife extended beyond the top of the black boot on his right leg. Her weak limbs trembled with ironic relief. At least he wasn’t wearing leggings and a breechclout. Gomda hadn’t found her, but the vision of hell and damnation devouring the door frame had. A thatch of burnished, chestnut hair framed a pair of brown eyes, eyes so dark, they were almost black. With a wary look in his eyes, his body primed for danger, he scanned the dim corners of the cabin.
Wolf-dog snarled, waiting for her command.
“Haun-Nay,” she rasped. “No.”
She couldn’t take the chance the man would kill the dog before she could kill him, not after the beast had saved her. She’d wait until he hovered near, near enough to slash his jugular before he sensed peril. She didn’t have to wait long.
Danger rode the angles of his lean face as he advanced. “Are you alone here?”
She brought the knife up and stabbed at the vacant air.
His hands came out at his sides, palms up. “I won’t harm you. Besides, that mangy hound would rip my guts out before I could spit in your direction.” A faint smile curled one corner of his lip. “Looks like you could use some help. Please, put the knife down before you pass out and fall on it.”
Panting through another spasm, she slithered down the post, grinding out the words, “Stay back.” Seconds ago, she had fantasies of severing his neck; now she was too broken to try.
He dropped to his haunches before her and set the rifle on the ground. “If you were to guess, how long do you think before that baby comes?”
Up close, his features were achingly beautiful. Perhaps he was an angel sent by the Mountain Spirits. “You-you cannot stay here. You will die.”
His smile seemed to lessen the torment of the bone-numbing spasm contracting her abdomen. “I don’t know if you’ve looked outside lately, ma’am, but I’ll die if I go out there again. If it wasn’t for Bandit, I wouldn’t have found this ramshackle shelter.”
Her mind strained to focus. “Ban-Bandit?”
“My horse. He’s tied up in that rat-trap of a lean-to outside.” He glanced toward the hearth in the center of the room. “I’ll build a fire, grab my saddlebags and....”
“No! No fire. He’ll smell the smoke.”
The man rose with the grace of a lynx and walked toward the stone-pit. “I’m building that fire and boiling water no matter what you say.” Nimble fingers reached for several small logs before he tossed them into the belly of the hearth and then struck the match he pulled from the pocket of his shirt. He strode to his saddlebags, returned with a blanket, two canteens and emptied the water into a black kettle hanging over the pit.
“You must flee. Gomda can track a beetle in a blizzard,” she rasped, at great cost to her waning exhaustion.
Light and heat had flooded the room by the time he knelt in front of her again and removed his duster. “Your dress, and that red ocher tattoo on your forehead, tells me you’re Kiowa. You running from them?”
She shook her damp head. “Not Kiowa.” Trying to stifle the moan crying for release at the back of her throat, she failed. “Cap-captive.”
His head listed right as he looked her over again with a subtle nod. “I timed it,” he said without missing a beat. “Counted off sixty seconds since your last contraction, which means that baby’s coming sooner than later.”
Clawing her way up the post again, she assumed a kneeling position and spread her legs. Her confidence plummeted and a different kind of fear set in. I can do this; I must do this. She’d seen countless births in camp, and although this was her first, she had no choice; she had to commit this last act of grace before she died. The babe didn’t ask to be brought into the world; he deserved better than the hopeless life the Kiowa had offered her. That’s why she ran she reminded her addle-pated mind.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the stranger slide the blanket beneath her. With little time to recount the past that brought her here, she’d have to count on the stranger’s kindness—a hefty gamble. Why would he help her? These days, why would anyone help another human for the sake of compassion? “Tell the baby my name is Catherine, Catherine Margate. He deserves to know his mother’s name. Tell him I loved him the moment I felt him move inside me.”
“Let’s concentrate on you right now,” he said low-voiced.
She shook her damp head. “I can’t do this unless you promis
e you’ll take him with you. It will all be for naught otherwise.”
His calm reassurance buffeted her tortured spirit. “You’ll be able to tell himself yourself soon.”
Gripping the stranger’s arm, hysteria welled in her throat. She stared into the empathetic depths of his eyes and found a measure of peace. Perhaps some strangers still cared. “Don’t let Gomda take him. Promise me, swear it!”
“All right, all right, settle down now. I swear, whoever this Gomda is, I won’t let him take your child.”
“Shaman. Evil shaman. Carries a big stick burned by a lightning strike. A scar, brow to chin, runs through his eye.”
“Sounds fearsome.” He smiled again and somehow she knew it was meant to ease her torment, physical and mental.
What kind of man had crossed her path? Had the Mountain Spirits sent him to guide her through the afterlife when her ordeal ended? A quiver pedaled down her tense spine. She had to tell him what he’d be up against. “Gomda sent the dust squall.”
A black brow rose. “What? No, no, dusters are common in this neck of the woods.”
“He commanded it,” she said with weak-voiced determination.
“That’s loco talk. No man can call up the wind or ask the dust to turn into a whirling-dervish on a moment’s notice. Maybe God can,” he said and added under his breath, “If He’s even up there.”
Resolve took hold of her tongue. “Gomda can, I tell you, and if you don’t believe he holds such power, you will die if you stay here.”
He shook his head. “Look, right now, I don’t care if Moses falls from heaven and parts the Red Sea again. That baby’s coming no matter what, and I don’t need you to go all loco on me before it does.”
When another contraction obliterated her senses, the words flew from her mouth on a scream, “Give me strength. God’s truth, I am about to die!”
Silver Belles and Stetsons Page 15
