WESTERN CHRISTMAS PROPOSALS

by Various

  “You and you.” He pointed at his girls. “Take the room on the other side of this one. This one’s mine.”

  “Can you hear me in the night if I get scared?” Delanie wrapped her arms around his knee, blinking up at him with eyes the color of melted caramel.

  He touched her curls, felt the silky texture of them. “I’ll hear you, darlin’.”

  “Six times?”

  Heaven help him. “Seven times.”

  “But there’s extra rooms,” Jack complained. “I want one of my own.”

  “It’s good to share.” Especially for Jack, who had never fully accepted his mother’s passing. Being alone would only make his grief worse. “It’ll teach you boys to get along.”

  Three unhappy faces stared up at him. Only Delanie seemed content with the sleeping arrangements.

  “All of you, go downstairs and bring up firewood. It’ll be cold tonight.”

  He followed them down. Gazing about the big parlor, he felt satisfied. This would be a fine house to raise his family in. It was cozy in spite of its size.

  The furniture he’d purchased, and some from the old house that he had shipped, had been delivered last week. The stranger he’d hired to set it up arranged it in a way that he would have done himself.

  Taking his time getting here, planning ahead, had been the right choice. Bringing the children to an empty house with nothing that was familiar would have been hard on them. Facing another Christmas without their mother was going to be heartache enough as it was.

  It would not be like last year, though. This year Santa would come and bring double the gifts. Stockings would be hung on the great hearth in the parlor. The Christmas tree would touch the ceiling.

  Every night he would read them a story.

  Roy reckoned he would enjoy it as much as they would. Christmas had always been a special time, but last year’s tragedy had doused the joy.

  By making the holiday bright for his babies, maybe he would get a bit of the Christmas spirit back.

  Maybe he’d invite guests for the holiday.

  That would brighten things. The children would like being around Grannie Em and he wouldn’t mind singing a Christmas carol with Miss Belle Key.

  At least he hoped she was Miss. He didn’t know for sure. The fact that she and her grandmother shared the same name didn’t necessarily mean anything.

  He filled his arms with logs, surprised that it struck him as so all-fired important to find out what Belle’s marital condition was.

  He shouldn’t care at all, not when he suspected she was keeping a secret. But in his reading of her, he sensed something else, as well. The woman had a kind heart.

  She’d defended Santa, after all. She was caring for her grandmother. Whatever she, or they, were hiding, he doubted there was any ill intent with it.

  Besides, everyone had secrets. He carried one of his own. Lately, the urge to move on with his life pressed upon him. Hope for the future washed over him at odd moments. So did guilt.

  Grief and hope were hard emotions to balance.

  “Papa, I’m hungry.” Delanie dropped the piece of kindling she had lugged up the stairs.

  “Me, too,” Jack agreed.

  “I’m about to gnaw on this here log.” Robbie put his teeth on the bark to illustrate his plight.

  For all that someone had done to get the house ready, they had neglected to lay in food.

  The cupboards held dishes, but nothing to get them dirty with.

  The only thing to do was go out in the storm, see if the general store was still open. Leaving the children alone was risky business, though.

  A bold knock rapped on the front door.

  He opened to find a full-bodied woman, her eyelashes spangled with snow, smiling broadly at him.

  “You’re early,” she announced. “I was expecting you tomorrow. There’d have been food tomorrow.”

  “Pleased to meet you, ma’am,” he greeted the stranger at his door. “I’m Roy Garner.”

  “Of course you are.” She extended her hand and shook his with vigor. “I’m the widow Farley. You’ll come to dinner of course, Sheriff. You and the children.”

  “I’m obliged, ma’am.”

  More than obliged. If the rest of folks in Pinoakmont were like his neighbor, he had no regrets about settling here.

  Chapter Three

  Belle settled her grandmother into a chair at a dining table that was highly polished and set for ten. Pine cones and red ribbons decorated the center.

  From where she sat, she had a view of the fire snapping brightly in the parlor hearth. She was beyond grateful for the blush of warmth coming from the flames.

  Not all boardinghouses were as cozy as this one. She and Grannie had stayed in some ugly, drafty places. Mentally, she cursed her step-uncle, who had made them all but paupers after Granddaddy’s passing.

  Although she hated to, she silently thanked Roy Garner for picking a lovely little town to settle in.

  She also thanked him, reluctantly, for delivering them to the boardinghouse. Snow blew past the dining room window; ice crystals formed on the glass.

  If it weren’t for him they would be waiting out the storm at the train station.

  The handsome sheriff might be a thief, and she his huntress, but that did not mean she was not obliged to recognize the service he had done them.

  “I’m anxious to meet our fellow boarders,” Belle commented in order to purge the image of his face from her mind. To shake off the odd warmth she felt when remembering the strength of his arms, the heat of his hands banding her waist when he’d lifted her from the wagon.

  “I hope they aren’t a dull lot. At my age, Belle Annie, there’s no time to waste on dull folks.”

  “The same could be said of any age, Grannie.”

  “Our young hero is interesting.”

  “He’s not our hero, Grannie Em. He’s our thief.”

  “That’s what makes him so fascinating.” Grannie grinned. “He’s a thief, but he didn’t let us freeze to death. I feel the man is not beyond redemption.”

  “Don’t forget what he’s done to you.”

  “I haven’t—but there are those children of his. He’s dedicated to them. That speaks of character.”

  “Even rats are dedicated to their young.”

  “You don’t see a rat when you look at him.” Grannie winked. “You see a virile man.”

  “I do not!”

  “An old woman sees what an old woman sees. I suspect when this is all over Roy Garner will want to woo you.”

  “That’s absurd, Grannie Em. Once we’ve ruined his reputation, he won’t want to woo me.”

  “You have the most lovely breasts, dear, and don’t think he hasn’t noticed. He’ll overlook a lot to be able to put his hands on them.”

  “Hush, Grannie! What kind of a thing is that to say?”

  “A true thing. I’ve been on this planet long enough to know. Why, your grandfather—”

  Belle covered her ears. “No more, Grannie! Look, here come the other boarders.”

  “If I were you I’d think of something bland, get rid of that blush. Folks are going to wonder.”

  As if the blush was not Grannie’s fault. Just when she’d managed to get Roy Garner’s face out of her mind, there popped the picture of him with his hands upon her charms.

  Thanks to her grandmother, the blush was going to last all night. Clearly, she was going to have some trouble forgetting the image.

  Three people entered the dining room at the same time.

  “Good evening, ladies. I’m Jim Flynn,” said a middle-aged gentleman who was tall, slim and just beginning to go gray at the temples. “Such a pleasure to meet you.”

  “And you,” Granni
e answered with a polite nod—thank the good Lord.

  It was hard to predict what her grandmother was going to say. It seemed the older she got the more she bluntly spoke what was on her mind.

  Mary Farley entered the dining room carrying a platter piled high with something that smelled wonderful.

  “Miss and Mrs. Key.” She nodded at them, then at the women standing on each side of Mr. Flynn. “Meet Beulah Banks, our librarian and a single lady. And Hilda Bee, my sister.”

  “Mary, why must you always point out that I’m unmarried?” Beulah complained.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet all of you,” Grannie said.

  “And you,” Jim Flynn answered with a nod and a smile.

  “Are there more guests coming?” Beulah Banks asked. “I see extra places set.”

  Perhaps it was Belle’s imagination that the eager look on the librarian’s face meant she hoped a single man was coming.

  If so, she would swoon the first time she saw her new neighbor and sheriff.

  An odd, unpleasant feeling soured Belle’s stomach.

  All of a sudden she wanted to run outside and fall face-first into the snow. How could she feel jealous over a man she had met one time—a man who was her adversary?

  Well, she knew why! Plainly, it was because he’d been busy with his hands round her waist.

  Blast! Blast! Blast! Just because Grannie had spent many years blissfully satisfied did not mean that fate awaited everyone.

  Not the spinster librarian and certainly not Belle.

  There had been a time when she had hoped for more, but life had turned on a dime and now all her focus was on keeping Grannie fed and sheltered.

  If there was a man out there to make her heart swoon, Cupid was going to have to place him smack in her path.

  A rap at the front door interrupted her emotional edginess.

  “Here they are now,” Mary Farley announced, then opened the door to let her guests in.

  Roy Garner stepped inside, Delanie hugging his leg. Robbie and Jack sniffed the air, clearly smelling dinner. With sweet charm, Lorraine smiled at everyone.

  “Everybody, this is our new sheriff, Roy Garner, and these are his children. I’ll let you all get acquainted while I bring out the rest of dinner.”

  Beulah lifted her chin, blinked and stared. She smiled broadly, clearly setting her cap for the handsome guest.

  “Our young man certainly makes beautiful babies,” Grannie whispered in her ear.

  “He’s not our young man!” she hissed back. “He’s our objective.”

  Their quarry! Their prey! Their criminal!

  But, in spite of that, her nipples twisted against the lace of her camisole.

  Blast! Blast! Blast!

  * * *

  Roy brushed snow from the brim of Delanie’s hat, then the shoulders of her coat. He hung the garments on the hall tree beside the front door. Conveniently, Mrs. Farley had set a mop beside the door so he could wipe the moisture up.

  He did the same with all the children, then sat them down at the table.

  Delanie, sitting beside Grannie Em, smiled up at the elderly woman.

  “Isn’t she the sweetest thing?” Grannie Em asked.

  “Quite adorable,” Belle Key stated.

  Oddly, and for no reason he could imagine, she glared at him. A bright blush stained her cheeks.

  “I love children,” a tall woman, slightly gaunt in the face, said. Not a single strand of hair escaped her no-nonsense bun. “Yours look as obedient as little soldiers.”

  Belle Key cast her a quizzical glance. She would know better, having traveled in front of his children for hours on the train.

  Delicate-looking brown curls defied Miss Key’s bun. Any man would notice how softly they framed her face and neck.

  “No one wants little soldiers, Beulah,” the other woman declared, then swung her attention to him. “I’m Hilda Bee. It’s a pleasure to have you here defending our little town.”

  “And I’m the town librarian, Beulah Banks. I agree that it’s a pleasure. Truly. I’ll sleep better in my bed at night just knowing you are close by.”

  He couldn’t help but wonder what kind of crime the lady expected him to deliver her from.

  Miss Key probably wondered, too, because she raised her brows at Beulah.

  Grannie Em grinned and placed a kiss on Delanie’s head.

  Belle looked away from the librarian to shoot a frown at him, her arms anchored firmly across her chest.

  He must have offended her in some way, but he was damned if he knew how.

  “I’ll do my best to keep law and order, ma’am.”

  “Is it true you were a genuine US marshal?” Miss Banks asked, her breath sounding raspy.

  Robbie looked at her with squinted eyes. “Why does your—”

  Voice sound like a frog? He knew without a doubt that was the question his son was about to ask. Luckily the boot-swipe he gave the boy silenced him.

  It helped that their hostess picked that moment to carry in a big bowl of mashed potatoes.

  “Pinoakmont seems a peaceful place,” he commented quickly because Robbie had just noticed how large Miss Banks’s front teeth were.

  “Might be if the town had a decent name,” the other man at the table declared.

  “You, Jim Flynn, are part the reason it does not,” Hilda Bee said. She arched her brows at Roy. “Can you imagine wanting to name the town Mountslide? Makes it sound like we’re going over a cliff.”

  “Better than Oak Rot.”

  “It wasn’t Oak Rot and you know it. It was Pretty Oak.” Mrs. Bee glared at Mr. Flynn. “It was a lovely suggestion.”

  “It was fine,” Miss Banks said. “But not nearly so exquisite as Pine Leaf.”

  “No such thing as a pine leaf, Beulah,” Jim Flynn replied. “It would have needed to be called Pine Needle.”

  “We argued over the name for a month.” Mrs. Farley sat down at the head of the table. “We nearly came to violence. In the end, we called it Pinoakmont.”

  With that discussion put to rest, they ate in silence.

  At long last, Hilda Bee went upstairs. Next went the spinster, snatching up a dime novel from a side table before she made her way up.

  “Mountslide,” Jim Flynn muttered, screeching his chair across the floor as he stood.

  “Good night, Jim,” Mrs. Farley called after him.

  Jim waved his hand without looking back.

  “Believe it or not, all three of them are decent people. This is a good town, Sheriff—we just have a problem agreeing on certain things.”

  “I assume you’ve hired Mr. Garner to protect you from each other?” Belle Key asked. A pair of pretty dimples winked at the corners of her mouth.

  He’d been hired as a babysitter? For a second, his gut twisted, seeing the way his career had disintegrated. But a peaceful place was what he wanted. It was the reason he’d moved his family here.

  A safe place to raise his children, to be able to be with them instead of traipsing over hill and dale, never knowing what was going on at home, was what he needed.

  He welcomed this change in his life. Until last Christmas he’d never understood what he was missing. It was a sorry thing that he’d never fully appreciated his wife, all she did, until it was too late to tell her so.

  Glancing across the table at his daughters, he saw a bond forming with the elderly woman. He hoped the ladies Key were making Pinoakmont their permanent home.

  He glanced at Belle. The thought of having them as neighbors was intriguing.

  Just now she was watching her grandmother nuzzle the children. Her face did not have the wary look it normally did. Far from it; her eyes glowed softly, her smile sweetly indulgent.

 
Grannie Em was a lucky woman to be so loved.

  But the Key ladies did confuse him. They were not, he suspected, who they seemed—not completely, at least. The only thing he knew for sure about them was that they loved one another deeply.

  “Yes, keeping peace between us is the biggest reason we hired you, Sheriff Garner,” Mrs. Farley explained. “There’s not much risk of a genuine criminal taking an interest in our little town.”

  “But there’s another reason you hired me? One that’s not as important as keeping you from doing each other in?”

  “It is related, of course. Like I said, mostly we are a companionable town. But when there are decisions involved, everyone wants their own way. Some folks want things one way and some another. So they form alliances, three against four, ten against fifteen—Mr. Flynn against everyone. Poor man. He only became contentious after his wife passed.”

  Roy nodded, feeling compassion for the fellow. He might have become bitter, too, if it weren’t for the children.

  He was in many ways the luckiest man in the world.

  “Well, what’s the other reason you hired him?” Grannie Em asked.

  “To organize the Christmas pageant. It’s the only way to keep the holiday peaceful.” Mrs. Farley shrugged. “Amazingly, we all did agree on having you do it. With the sheriff in charge, we won’t argue. If anyone makes a fuss, you can lock them up overnight.”

  “I’m the Pinoakmont social director?”

  “That’s what it sounds like to me, Sheriff.” Belle grinned at him, her eyes and dimples flashing.

  “Do I have a job after Christmas when you all get along like peas in a pod?”

  “Of course! After Christmas is the Valentine’s Ball, the Easter Parade then the Summer Social. After that it’s the Fall Fair.”

  Chapter Four

  Grannie sat down on the edge of her bed and yawned. She bounced a couple of times, apparently judging its comfort.

  “These old springs squeak. The whole house will know whenever I turn over.” Grannie grew quiet for a moment, probably remembering years gone by, as she sometimes did. A slow smile curved her lips. “I remember my honeymoon—the bed was squeaky then, too. As I recall, your grandfather and I kept the entire floor of our hotel awake all night long.”