WESTERN CHRISTMAS PROPOSALS

by Various

  “If it doesn’t, the jail has two cells. We’ll put everyone of one opinion in the first and everyone opposed in the other.”

  It made an interesting and funny picture in her mind. “Yes, we can plan as we like and let them out when it’s time to attend.”

  “I like the way you think. You are a woman after my heart.”

  That, she was not! Not by a stone’s throw. She was after justice and her grandmother’s ring. The last thing she would be swayed by was his rumbling laugh, how it made her want to giggle along with him.

  Which she did, but for appearance’s sake. Too bad it felt good—and disturbingly natural.

  “I hope the children haven’t worn your grandmother out,” Roy said, opening the front door.

  “I hope she hasn’t led them in naughty behavior.”

  “Pa!” Jack bounded across the long parlor and hugged his father about the legs. “I missed you, Pa.”

  Roy ruffled the boy’s hair. “I’ll always be close by, son. Never farther than you can run to me.”

  “Promise?”

  “On my honor. Now, what have you done with Grannie Em?”

  “Nothin’, Pa,” Robbie said. “She’s just upstairs searching through your things.”

  Belle’s heart sank. She wasn’t sure if she was flushed or pale—probably both. All she wanted was for the floor to open up and the earth to suck her in.

  The hunt had barely begun and they were going to be found out.

  “I can’t imagine what got into Grannie,” she stammered. “She’s—just—” What? Sneaky, daring, foolish. “Old.”

  “I found it!” Grannie’s voice trilled from an upstairs bedroom.

  A few seconds later Grannie Em hustled onto the landing with her fist folded about something.

  It was unbelievable. She had found the ring. This game was over. She could now expose Roy Garner—leave Pinoakmont and never see him again.

  She waited, anticipating the thrill of victory to rush through her. She and Grannie had bested the thief.

  Curiously, it was not satisfaction that washed through her.

  Gazing into Roy’s puzzled expression all she felt was regret.

  Which was ridiculous.

  “What have you found, Grannie?”

  Pinched between her fingers she held it up, triumph flushing her cheeks with pleasure.

  “The lucky penny!” She started down the steps. Roy rushed up to guide her down. “I looked for nearly half an hour. You children did a good job hiding it.”

  “A lucky penny?” Belle gasped. “You were playing a game?”

  “A game that I won!”

  “Took me an hour to find the bedeviled coin last time I played.” Roy shook his head, delivering Grannie safely to the ground floor. “The children are even better at hiding the penny than they are at finding it.”

  “They are quite accomplished,” Grannie agreed.

  “You turned Mr. Garner’s things inside out and just to find a penny?”

  “Not just to find a penny, Belle Annie.” Grannie arched a thin gray brow. “To win the game. Next time you ought to play with us.”

  “I’m sorry, Roy. No doubt your room is a shambles.”

  “Only because the penny was tied up in the toe of a sock.”

  “What’s her prize, Pa?” Jack asked, grinning.

  The little boy had a sweet smile. She didn’t recall having seen it before.

  “What would you like, Grannie Em?” Roy asked.

  “I’d like to keep this lucky penny and be invited to stay for dinner.” She glanced at Belle, shrugged. “It’s more fun over here. That Jim fellow fills the house with nasty cigar fumes, and the spinster is always fussing over the dress that you’re sewing for her. Poor thing thinks she is going sweep you off your feet at the social, Roy.”

  Roy didn’t express an opinion on how he felt about Beulah Banks’s attention.

  Belle had an opinion about it, which she would never express. But the truth was, the more time she spent with her adversary and ally, the more it irked her that Beulah doted so upon him.

  She pressed her middle, trying to rub the pestering emotion away.

  “Thank you for dinner, Roy. Grannie Em is right about the nasty smoke. We could both use an evening without it.”

  A small hand caught her fingers. “Can I sit next to you?”

  Looking down into Delanie’s soft brown eyes, another sensation filled her middle. But this one was sweet, tender and welcome.

  She was glad Grannie had not found the ring. There would be time for that—just not tonight.

  Chapter Six

  Roy yanked his tie loose, then unbuttoned his collar. Standing beside his bedroom window, he gazed across the road.

  At midnight the full moon rose above the horizon, casting diamonds and deep blue shadows on the snow.

  Sparkle and shadow—they reminded him of the Key ladies. They were a mystery he was having trouble figuring out.

  Grannie Em was a sweet old lady—everything a grandmother should be. But there was more to her than that. At times, she cast him odd looks, apparently thinking he didn’t notice.

  Belle did the same thing. They even cast odd looks at each other.

  Could be a strange family trait. Or it could be that they were sending silent messages.

  Whatever they were about didn’t concern him.

  Except that it did.

  Not as sheriff. He didn’t have the sense that they were up to anything illegal.

  But as a father, that was another thing.

  It was his job to make sure that the people his children became attached to didn’t come into their lives for a season and then move on. Their hearts were still grieving and too fragile for bonds that didn’t last.

  Not that he thought the Key ladies would intentionally do anything to hurt his children. To the contrary, they seemed to dote upon his babies. But if the children formed bonds with the women, and then had to say goodbye—they would be hurt.

  Delanie and Lorraine were quickly becoming attached to Grannie Em. It was clear as a ringing bell that Grannie Em returned their affection.

  The boys had both taken a shine to Belle.

  They would, of course. He reckoned they were looking for their mother. Trying to fill the void she had left.

  Perhaps he ought to discourage the bond with his neighbors, given the fact that he had no idea how long the Keys planned on staying in Pinoakmont.

  The trouble was, tonight Jack had begun to smile again. Robbie had gotten into half his normal mischief and the girls looked as happy as floating bubbles.

  And Roy felt a lightness of heart that had been missing for some time.

  The evening had passed with them all sitting about the fireplace, telling stories of Santa and singing Christmas carols.

  Anticipation of the holiday lightened everyone’s spirits—especially his. This was going to be the best Christmas he could make it. Hearts would be merry and bright.

  No one was ready for the evening to end. Especially not Grannie Em, who seemed to grow decades younger while she told stories of the blessed years spent with her husband—of how Christmas had been their special time. In fact, it had been the day they fell in love.

  This year Christmas would be a special time for his children, too. They would lack for nothing, be it Santa’s visit, sweet treats or good company.

  Wise or not, he could not sever the budding relationship with the Keys because no matter what else happened, his little ones would not face heartache again this year.

  All of a sudden he needed a breath of air, rich with the scent of pine. Nothing quite brought the holiday home like the scent of cold pine.

  He opened the window, cherished the kiss of icy air on his f
ace, then breathed in a lungful of—

  Smoke!

  The last thing he’d done before retiring was to bank the flames in the fireplace.

  Hell’s business! He ran out of the bedroom. Not taking the time to maneuver the stairs, he slid down the banister.

  * * *

  Belle coughed. She heard screaming. Oddly the sound was muffled.

  She tried to sit up, wanting to discover the source of the trouble, but her body was heavy, her thoughts sluggish.

  It seemed that she was awake but must not be. Perhaps this was one of those odd dreams that felt real but only until one woke to reality.

  This had to be true since Grannie Em slept soundly in the bed beside hers.

  Oddly, for a dream, the coughing was quite painful. She ought to try and rouse herself—push up, sit upright.

  With an effort, she inhaled then gagged.

  Smoke. Not a dream but smoke and fire!

  Rolling off the bed and onto the floor, she crawled toward Grannie.

  Mrs. Farley’s screaming grew more urgent. The panic in her voice made it clear that the emergency was dire and not simply the hearth producing too much smoke.

  “Grannie!” Her shout was no more than a croak.

  She shook her grandmother’s shoulder. She patted her cheeks and got no response.

  “We’ve got to go!”

  In a matter of seconds she became nearly blinded. Her eyes burned, her lungs ached. The room had so filled with smoke that she couldn’t see the bedroom door.

  Grasping her grandmother’s shoulders, she tried to lift her.

  Impossible.

  Belle felt weak—breathable air was running out.

  “Going for help.” She kissed Grannie’s cheek, because—just in case. “I love you.”

  Down near the floor, the air was a bit easier to breathe. She crawled on her belly, feeling along the walls, around the bureau, past the hall tree until her fingers found the doorway.

  The stairway, she knew, was to the right. She crept that way, saw crimson flames doing a hellish dance, heard the roar and crackle as they devoured wood.

  To her horror, she realized that the stairs were on fire. Even near the floor the air was becoming too harsh to breathe.

  Don’t die! Inhale even if it hurts. Do not die—get help!

  But she couldn’t inhale. The effort ended in a fit of coughing and gagging.

  Keep on, her mind screamed. Don’t die! If she did, so would Grannie.

  With her cheek on the rug, she watched, oddly detached while fingers of fire nibbled the fringe on the far edge of the hallway runner. Pretty blue flowers morphed into greedy blue flames.

  “Belle!” A bodiless voice pierced the gray vapor. It came from many directions at one time. “Belle!”

  She lifted her hand, coughed.

  A strong fist closed upon hers. She recognized the size, the rough skin of palm and knuckle.

  Roy lifted her—ran with her. Cold air brushed her arms, chilled her feet. Clear air filled her lungs.

  With great care, Roy set her down. She felt his hand touch her hair, the chill when snow dampened her nightgown.

  “Grannie!” She coughed, gagged, then glanced up.

  But Roy was no longer there. Mrs. Farley slid down beside her. She patted Belle’s hand, quietly weeping.

  “Where’s Mr. Garner? He carried me out.”

  “Yes—praise the good Lord.” She sniffled, wiped her eyes with her arm. “He’s gone to bring out your grandmother.”

  Glancing around, Belle spotted Jim in his nightclothes, his arm at Beulah’s waist, supporting her.

  “But the stairway—it’s gone.” What had Roy done?

  “There’s another one, off the kitchen, but—”

  The whole house was aflame. There was no reason to believe that the back stairs would provide an escape.

  Belle glanced across the road toward Roy’s house. The wind was not blowing. Flames and sparks shot straight into the air. Roy’s house would be safe.

  Through an upper window she saw four frightened faces pressed against the glass.

  “I should go to them.”

  “You can’t, dear, not yet.” Mrs. Farley rested her head on top of Belle’s, watching while her home burned down. “The church bell is ringing. Folks will be here soon. Someone will go to the children.”

  Townsfolk would be well-meaning, but they were strangers. She, at least, was acquainted with the children. If there was unspeakable news to be delivered, it would be from her.

  “Help me up.”

  “I don’t think—”

  Belle got to her feet in spite of Mrs. Farley’s protest.

  Pressing her aching head between her hands, she stumbled across the road, entered the house and climbed the stairs to Roy’s bedroom.

  At first, the children didn’t hear her enter. Then one by one their tear-streaked faces turned toward her.

  “Everything will be all right,” she assured them against all reason.

  Standing behind, she gathered them all in her arms.

  Silently, she prayed, Please don’t let them be orphans.

  The children’s breath fogged the window, blurring the view of what was happening below.

  This was for the best. What they would see was bound to be devastating.

  Belle wiped the window in front of her nose, though, because devastating or not, she must face it.

  From a block away, she saw torches bobbing up the road. Faces, cast orange by the light, looked twisted—horrified.

  The crowd surged forward with cries of dismay.

  Grannie? Roy? Please, God.

  Two men sprinted toward the burning house. She watched them vanish into the haze.

  Staring into the smoke she spotted three shadows.

  Praise everything good! Four figures emerged from the ugly cloud.

  The men from town flanked Roy, escorting him, offering support as he carried Grannie in his arms.

  By some miracle, she was conscious.

  * * *

  Belle studied her grandmother, who sat in a chair beside the fireplace in Roy’s cozy parlor. Contrary to the way Belle felt, Grannie looked content.

  “We almost died, Grannie. How can you look so calm about it?”

  “By the time I knew I was in danger I was already safe. There’s no point in fretting over what didn’t happen.”

  Maybe it was because Grannie had lived a long life and experienced many things that she seemed so outwardly calm.

  The fire didn’t seem to rattle her any more than her feeling that she might not see the New Year.

  “I can’t believe it, Grannie.” Belle sat on the arm of the chair, grateful for the warm flannel shirt that Roy had loaned her to wear over her nightgown. It was long enough to provide most of the modesty a lady required. “Your hair isn’t even singed.”

  Roy’s was. So were his eyebrows.

  “Were you conscious the whole time? I was only half.”

  “Let me tell you, Belle Annie. When a handsome man wakes one and sweeps one into his arms, one does feel a swoon coming on. But that would have meant missing the whole adventure, so I resisted the urge.”

  “Adventure!” Belle leapt up, slammed her fists on her hips. Grannie simply stared up at her, grinning like a loon—like a whole flock of loons. “You could have been killed. Roy, too! His children might have been left orphans!”

  “No one did die, though. And while it is a downright shame about Mrs. Farley’s place, what has happened has happened. No one died, no one was even blistered. Best take what good we can out of the situation.”

  “Which is?” Belle sat back down on the arm of the chair. “We have nothing—only these nightclothes. Not to m
ention we stink. It’ll take hours of soaking to get the smoke out of our skin and hair.”

  “We do have something—an invitation to live here for the time being.” Grannie grew quiet for a moment, watching the flames. “Isn’t life odd when one’s adversary is also one’s hero? I’ve lived a long time and never seen the like. It’s hard to set things right in your mind.”

  Belle touched her grandmother’s head, ran her fingers through the soft strands of white hair.

  Voices drifted down from upstairs. Roy was tucking all four children into his own bed while reassuring them that all would be well, that he would take special care to make sure their house did not burn.

  The reassurance in his voice heartened her.

  Grannie was right. This whole situation was confusing. Truly, if not for the generosity of the sheriff, their situation would be bleak. If not for his heroics, they would be dead.

  Did that change things? She didn’t know. But it did muddy the waters.

  “That is something to be grateful for,” she could only agree.

  “Your Mr. Garner is quite the gentleman for a thief.” Grannie sighed, returning her gaze to Belle.

  “He’s not my Mr. Garner,” she protested softly, but a picture flashed in her mind. He had suggested a kiss; the image of a shared embrace shook her.

  She tried to snuff it out but it wouldn’t go away. Possibly because she didn’t want it to.

  “Your Roy, then.” Grannie took her hand, squeezed it and winked.

  “He’s not my anything, Grannie Em. He can’t be. You know why we came here.”

  She had to stand up again. This conversation made her nervous.

  “You know Roy Garner is not my man. Are you willing to just forgive and forget? He took what was not his—something that meant everything to you.”

  Grannie Em shook her head slowly, then gazed with all seriousness into Belle’s eyes. “That’s not true. You are everything to me. The ring, it only represents love.”

  “And yet you believe you will die without it?”

  Grannie was quiet for a moment, as though listening to something that Belle could not hear. “Yes, your grandfather is quite sure of it.”