The Cowboy's Christmas Bride

by Patricia Johns

  But it was the memories made later at the reception, in an antiques neighbor’s barn renovated for social events, that would settle into Andy’s heart. As they stepped into the candlelit room for the first time as husband and wife, Dakota tugged him to a stop and he looked up to find a spray of mistletoe hanging above them.

  “Merry Christmas, Andy,” Dakota whispered, her eyes glistening in the low light.

  He dipped his head and kissed her gently, tugging her close to him, wishing they had fewer observers for this...

  Every table around the room had a sprig of mistletoe, and Andy felt his throat close off with emotion as he looked around at the glossy barn filled with the people who supported them—more than he’d imagined would be there. Chet was persuasive, and after Ken Mason’s initial reaction of rage, after Dakota’d had a long talk with her dad out in a field—a talk that took an entire morning—Ken turned out to be pretty persuasive, too.

  There was room at the family table—it just took a little shifting of the chairs.

  And every Christmas thereafter, in Andy and Dakota’s home, after the kids were born and as the years crept by, Dakota would put up mistletoe around the house, surprising Andy with a kiss when he happened underneath it. It was a tradition started by Andy’s mom when she’d thought she was being playful but really was etching her love into her family’s hearts. Andy’s kids would grow up with the same laughter and outpouring of love, and mistletoe began to mean something a little more in Hope, Montana.

  It was more than “Merry Christmas.” It was the meaning of Christmas...love, family and the sound of the angels in a woman’s loving voice saying, “Look up—mistletoe!”

  * * * * *

  Read on for an extract from A FAMILY IN WYOMING by Lynnette Kent.

  A Family in Wyoming

  by Lynnette Kent

  Chapter One

  June

  Lying in wait at the screen door, Honey the golden retriever suddenly lifted her head. A moment later, Wyatt Marshall heard it, too—the rumble of a truck on the drive. With relief, he put down the book he’d been failing to read. “About time, isn’t it, girl?”

  Honey got up as he joined her at the door. Together they stepped outside just as headlights appeared in the distance. The six teenagers who’d been stationed on the front porch for the last two hours scrambled to their feet, cell phones forgotten for the moment.

  “I was beginning to worry,” Wyatt’s youngest brother, Dylan, said as he came to stand beside him.

  Garrett, the next oldest, posted himself at the foot of the steps. “I’m still worried. We don’t know if they found Nate.”

  Wyatt shook his head. “Ford wouldn’t come back without him.”

  The truck pulled to a stop in front of the house and Ford strode around the hood of the vehicle. “Sorry we took so long.” He opened the front passenger door for Caroline Donnelly, the local social worker. “There were complications.”

  Wyatt frowned. “Is everybody alright?”

  With her feet on the ground, Caroline offered a reassuring smile. “They will be, now that we’ve got them.”

  “Them?”

  Ford opened the rear door and leaned inside. When he straightened up, he was cradling a young child in his arms. Then a woman emerged, followed by Nate Bradley. Nate was one of the camp kids the Marshalls were hosting on their ranch this summer. He’d run away earlier this evening—and gone straight home apparently.

  Wyatt held the screen door as Ford led the way into the house and, without pausing, headed for the bedrooms down the hallway. Nate and the woman followed so quickly that Wyatt barely got a glimpse of her blond hair before they’d disappeared.

  “His mother and little sister,” Garrett explained, in response to Wyatt’s questioning stare. “I guess finding Nate involved more conflict than we’d expected.”

  “We’d better make coffee,” Wyatt said, and went to the kitchen. When Ford returned to the living room a couple of minutes later, Wyatt handed him a mug. “So what happened?”

  After taking a long draw of the steaming brew, Ford sat down in a recliner by the fireplace. “Nate had gone home to check on his mom and sister. Unfortunately, his dad was in the house, drunk and furious. My arrival didn’t improve the situation, and he started venting his anger on Nate. I lost my temper, too, but the deputy showed up and controlled the situation before any damage was done. Susannah—that’s Nate’s mother—didn’t want to press charges, so we thought the safest plan was to bring her and her little girl, Amber, here.” He drank more coffee. “I’ll see about getting an order of protection in the morning.”

  In the silence that followed, a light step sounded in the hallway. Wyatt glanced up from his own cup as Susannah Bradley stepped into the room.

  His gut clenched as if he’d been punched. Tall and shapely, with dark blue eyes and plump pink lips, she was a woman any man would want to look at twice. Or maybe always. Her bright blond hair was pulled away from her face, but soft strands fell free, begging to be brushed away, played with, twisted around a gentle finger.

  What slayed him, though, were the bruises on her skin. A dark shadow along the line of her jaw, a purple-and-yellow stain under her right eye. A bracelet of red around her wrist.

  Wyatt choked down the need to find the bastard who’d hurt her and extract payment. Instead, he got to his feet and nodded in her direction. “Welcome to the Circle M, Ms. Bradley. Have a seat.” He motioned with his mug to the recliner by the fireplace and was relieved when she took him up on the offer. The light in the room shone indirectly there, calling less attention to her wounds. Though standing up aggravated the ache in his spine, sitting down felt worse, so he went to the entrance to the dining room and leaned a shoulder against the door frame.

  “We made some hot chocolate for the kids,” Garrett said. “Or there’s coffee. Would you like a cup?”

  Surprise tinged her smile. “You know, hot chocolate sounds wonderful. Thanks.”

  Caroline came through the front door. “I sent the other kids to bed.” Her slender shoulders slumped and her face was pale. “It’s been a long evening.” She accepted her own cup of cocoa from Garrett and took a sip. “Mmm. Just right.” Then her gaze went to Susannah Bradley. “Did Amber settle in okay?”

  “She fell asleep on the ride and never woke up. Nate’s sitting with her in case she does, but I’m pretty sure she’s down till morning.” She pressed her lips together, glancing from Ford to Wyatt. “I can’t ever thank you enough for taking us in. It’s such a huge imposition, us just showing up in the middle of the night.”

  Wyatt put up a hand. “It’s not a problem at all. I’m glad we’re able to help. If there’s anything else we can do, just say the word.”

  She turned her face away, blinking hard. He hated that he’d made her cry.

  Once he’d finished his own cup of coffee, Dylan got up from the rocking chair. “Want me to walk Nate to the bunkhouse? I expect he’s dead on his feet.”

  “Excellent idea.” Ford stood, as well. “We all could probably use some sleep.”

  Caroline put a hand on Susannah Bradley’s shoulder. “We’ll get everything worked out. Just be confident that you and Nate and Amber are safe now.”

  “Thank you so much.” She had a beautiful smile. And Wyatt could tell how it reassured her son when the boy followed Dylan into the room; Nate felt comfortable taking his own rest because his mom seemed to have everything under control.

  But once Nate and the others stepped out the door, that smile disappeared. Bending her head, Susannah gazed into her mug, her brows drawn together and her lower lip between her teeth.

  While Wyatt stood tongue-tied, Garrett sat down on the nearest end of the sofa. “Don’t worry about the future,” he told her. “You can let go tonight and face tomorrow’s challenges after a good rest. All y
ou have to do right now is relax.” As a minister, he always knew what to say.

  She drew a deep breath, but her shoulders remained stiff. “Travis is...unpredictable. If he followed us—”

  This, Wyatt had the answer to. “You don’t have to be concerned about him. If he does show up here, he won’t get as far as the front steps.”

  Her gaze took in the brace he wore, and her eyes widened. “You’re injured. And he might not make allowances...”

  Garrett chuckled as he got to his feet. “Wyatt’s pretty formidable, even with a broken back. And there are four of us, remember. There’s nothing to be anxious about.” He gestured toward the mug she cradled between her palms. “More?”

  Susannah shook her head. “No, thank you.”

  “Well, then, I’ve got a couple of hours of work to put in on this week’s sermon, so I’ll say good-night now and see you in the morning.” He nodded at Wyatt as he headed toward the back of the house. “Night, Boss.”

  “Night.” They’d left him alone with Susannah Bradley. What was he supposed to do in this situation? His social skills, never all that adept to begin with, had rusted over the years through lack of use—he didn’t spend much time socializing anymore. To cover his cluelessness, Wyatt went to take a gulp from his own cup, only to find it empty.

  That gave him an idea. “We can put these in the dishwasher.” He reached around the door frame and flipped on the dining room light. “It’s this way.”

  Susannah followed as he skirted the table and chairs they used for most meals and pushed through the swinging door to the kitchen. When the light came on, he heard her gasp.

  “What a beautiful room! I’ve never seen such a big kitchen!” As if she’d entered some kind of Wonderland, she wandered around, running a hand along the granite countertops, touching the cabinet doors, the drawer pulls, the edge of the stove. “How lovely it must be to cook here. So much space!” She faced him across the breakfast bar. “Did you build this house?”

  He cleared his throat. “Not exactly. The bones were here, but we’ve done some renovating and additions over the years. Dylan’s an artist, so the kitchen was basically his plan, with some help from a company in Sheridan.” A question occurred to him. “Do you enjoy cooking?”

  “Very much. You wouldn’t believe it to look at him, but Nate loves to eat. I don’t know how he stays so thin.”

  Wyatt opened the front of the dishwasher only far enough to ease the upper rack out part of the way. “Kids use up a lot of energy growing. I remember my brothers did.”

  Susannah came over to give him her cup. “He’s certainly been growing—he’s six inches taller this summer than last.”

  “Must be hard to keep him in jeans that fit. At least we had hand-me-downs.” The front of the dishwasher rack was full. To pull it out all the way meant letting the door down, but that would require him to bend over to pick it up again—which hurt way more than he was ready to admit. They could just leave the cups in the sink and Garrett would take care of them in the morning...

  “Let me,” Susannah said. In one smooth move, she opened the door all the way, stowed the cups, and then shut the dishwasher.

  Wyatt felt like a chump. “Thanks.” Even to him, it resembled a growl.

  But she didn’t take offense. “You’re welcome.” She leaned a hip against the counter and crossed her arms. “How did you get hurt?”

  His face heated in embarrassment. “I was bucked off a young horse. He kicked up just as I threw my leg over, launching me like a rocket. I came down on my... I landed sitting down.”

  To his surprise, she chuckled. “I imagine that experience hurt your pride even worse than your back.”

  None of his brothers had dared to laugh at him. But her friendly gurgle was such a rich sound that he couldn’t dredge up the least bit of dudgeon. Wyatt grinned. “Could be.”

  “Do you still have the horse?”

  He nodded. “I’ll break him next summer, when he’s a year older and smarter. Sometimes they have to have more age on them.”

  “Meanwhile, you’re going to spend this summer working with young humans, helping them become smarter.”

  “So we hope. As the local social worker, Caroline collaborated with Garrett to propose a summer camp for troubled kids on the Circle M and I liked the idea—though I’m not sure how much help I’ll be, wearing this stupid brace.”

  He hadn’t shared that hesitation with his brothers or Caroline when they’d discussed their plans. There was something about Susannah Bradley that turned him positively chatty. “I’m not used to spending my days in the house.”

  “I wouldn’t expect so.” She yawned suddenly and put up a hand to cover her mouth. “Sorry.”

  “No, it’s late. And you’ve had a hard day. You should get some sleep. Anything you need?”

  “Nothing at all.” A soft blush colored her face. “I don’t know how I’ll be able to repay your family for giving us refuge—”

  Wyatt put up a hand and shook his head. “Don’t even think about it. We’re glad to help. Now go to bed. I’m the boss around here and that’s an order.”

  “Yes, sir.” Smiling, she crossed to the hallway door. “You’re very kind,” she said, before she left the kitchen.

  Wyatt snorted to himself. Taking care of women and children didn’t fall into the category of “kind,” in his opinion. That was just a man’s responsibility.

  Susannah Bradley had obviously encountered a different type of behavior. Wyatt had never met her husband, but he’d heard talk about him around town. Travis Bradley had shown up about a year ago, asking for work at ranches in the area and bragging about his cowboying skills, his rodeo wins. Nobody who’d hired him kept him on for long because he eventually showed up drunk—or didn’t show up at all.

  Then Caroline Donnelly had proposed holding a summer camp for at-risk kids on the Circle M Ranch. Nate Bradley was one of those kids, a teenager who’d kept his secrets until tonight. Ford had encountered Nate’s dad at a recent rodeo and then rejected the man when he came looking for a job on the Circle M. Thank goodness he had, since they’d now discovered just how bad Nate’s home life could be when Travis took out his frustrations on his wife and kids.

  But the Marshalls, with help from Caroline, would ensure that Travis never hurt his family again. As a lawyer, Ford would use his expertise to keep Bradley at a distance while Susannah figured out her next steps. Surely she had family she and her kids could count on for protection.

  Realizing he was a long way from sleep himself, Wyatt poured a new cup of coffee as he considered the situation. Since her family had clearly been of little help to Susannah so far, maybe they wouldn’t take care of her and the kids the way they should now. In that case, she’d have to make her own way somehow, somewhere. But he couldn’t believe she would choose to stay with the man who left those marks on her skin. No woman deserved that kind of abuse. If she didn’t believe that fact, they would have to help her understand.

  Returning to the living room, he eased himself into the rocking chair and picked up his book. Slumber didn’t come easily to him these days, since lying down flat in bed hurt his back. So did sitting and standing, but at least he could occupy his mind while he was awake, instead of lying there useless in the dark.

  Rather than reading, though, he found himself thinking about Susannah—with more attention to detail than was good for him. That silky hair, those plump lips...long, slender legs under a denim skirt...a straight spine, conveying pride and strength. Graceful, gentle hands, which could comfort a child.

  Or pleasure a man.

  This time he growled for real, low in his throat. The woman was married. Even if the marriage ended, she’d been treated badly by a man she ought to be able to trust. Why would she take such a risk ever again?

  Besides, at the age of thirty-six, W
yatt considered himself a confirmed bachelor, not a prospect for happily-ever-after. Too set in his ways, too busy for romantic nonsense, too cranky to live with young kids. His brothers would testify to his contrary ways. They argued with him about it often enough.

  So getting to know Susannah Bradley as anything besides a casual friend would not be wise. He would help her all he could and then send her and her kids on their way to a new, better life. That was the best he could do for them.

  And the safest thing he could do for himself.

  * * *

  EARLIER THAT NIGHT, frantic and ashamed, Susannah had grabbed a nightgown while throwing together some clothes to bring away with her. But she hadn’t realized it was this white one—the one with narrow straps, a low neckline and gossamer fabric that didn’t leave much to the imagination. She’d found it in a thrift shop when they’d lived in South Dakota, about a year after Amber was born. Travis had kept the same job for six months and life seemed to be straightening out, finally. Maybe, she’d thought, they could make another baby. She would love to have more children.

  Then the drinking got out of hand again, as it always did. He was fired from the job, couldn’t find another, and so they moved on to Wyoming—Gillette, Sheridan, Buffalo, and now Bisons Creek, where their marriage and their life together had fallen to pieces.

  Biting her lower lip, she folded up the nightgown and stuffed it to the bottom of her duffel bag, then eased down on top of the bedcovers still wearing her clothes. This serene bedroom, in shades of cream and coffee, was far and away the most luxurious place she’d stayed since leaving her parents’ home. It was furnished with a queen-sized bed draped with a cozy comforter and softened by plenty of pillows, a dresser with a mirror above and two armchairs for relaxing, plus a private bathroom. The Marshall brothers offered their guests all the amenities she imagined could be found in an expensive hotel.