The Cowboy's Christmas Bride

by Patricia Johns

  And her little girl had taken full advantage. Curled up on her side, a chubby thumb pressed into that pouty lower lip and blond curls tousled across the pillowcase, Amber slept deeply. She must be exhausted.

  Her mother certainly was, but sleep had never seemed further away. Her brain wrestled endlessly with the mistakes of the past and the troubles of the present—not to mention the questions posed by an unknown future. Eyes burning, she yawned and shifted position but simply could not relax enough to doze off.

  After two restless hours, she sighed and sat up, swinging her legs off the bed. Maybe a glass of water would help. Or a walk around the house. At this late hour, she wouldn’t disturb anyone. She’d leave her shoes off to be sure she didn’t make any noise on the wooden floors.

  The long hallway was dark, all the doors except for the kitchen’s closed. There, a light shone above the sink. She opened the upper cabinet to the right and found the drinking glasses just where she’d expect them to be. Smiling at having guessed correctly the first time, Susannah drank down two full tumblers of water and then set the glass in the dishwasher. She took a few minutes to appreciate the room yet again—she could picture racks of cookies and fragrant loaves of bread cooling on all this counter space. Amaretto cakes baked for Christmas, tomatoes and green beans and pickles canned in the summertime, a big Thanksgiving dinner with turkey and dressing and sweet potatoes and pies... This kitchen could produce all sorts of wonderful food for friends and family to enjoy.

  She’d sorely missed friends and family since she and Travis got married. The only friends he ever made were his drinking buddies. His mother had disowned them both when she heard about their wedding. Her parents had been so hurt when she ran away, though they still called on her birthday...if they could find her. She and Travis had moved around a lot.

  Remembering the home she’d left thirteen years ago, Susannah sighed and stepped toward the dining room. A kitchen like this was a dream she couldn’t envision for herself. To be honest, she had no idea what she was supposed to do now. She didn’t deserve anything special, but her children needed something better than they’d had. A safe, stable life. How would she manage that on her own? Where would they go?

  Pushing through the dining room door, she was surprised to see a light on in the living room...and even more surprised to find Wyatt Marshall seated in the rocking chair.

  She stopped short. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think anyone would still be up.”

  He shook his head. “No problem. Can’t sleep?” A big man, with broad shoulders and long legs, he seemed to dominate the spacious room. The big, golden dog lay at his feet, its tail thumping the floor.

  Susannah swallowed against a sudden surge of nervousness. “Not yet.”

  “Sometimes your brain won’t shut off even when you need it to.” Thanks to the brace he wore, he was sitting bolt upright in the rocker, looking anything but comfortable. The strong planes of his face created an impression of austerity. But his deep-set brown eyes were compassionate. “Garrett is right. Worry and regrets won’t change anything tonight. Right now your kids are safe. You’ve got friends you can count on. Your troubles will keep until morning.”

  “Until morning. Got it.” Seeking a distraction, she nodded toward the book in his hand. “Is the story so good it’s keeping you awake?”

  A smile widened his well-shaped lips. “My back keeps me awake, but the book gives me something to focus on besides how much I’d rather be in bed.” After a pause, he cleared his throat. “Asleep.”

  “What is the story about?”

  With a finger marking his place, he showed her the cover, which featured a sword and a shield. “The Battle of Thermopylae in 480 BC.”

  Susannah frowned. “I don’t know what that is. Was.”

  “A small force of Greek soldiers held off the Persian army for a week and then lost their lives defending a narrow pass through the hills. The soldiers’ example inspired the rest of the country, and eventually the Persians were defeated in their attempt to take over all of Europe. It’s a pretty important moment in history.”

  Examining the shelves flanking the fireplace, she saw that many of the volumes were about war. “Are battles your favorite subject?”

  He came to join her in front of the books. “I enjoy history, especially military history. So much of human destiny has been decided on the battlefield.”

  She realized just how tall he was when she had to look up at his face. “I’m not sure that’s a good thing.”

  His keen gaze met hers. “Facts are facts. If you aren’t familiar with the past, you’re just going to repeat it.”

  “Yes, I’ve heard that quote before. But maybe we use the past too often as a pattern, instead of searching for new solutions.”

  Wyatt closed his book and slotted it into an opening on the shelf, before turning toward her. “An interesting point of view. Sounds as if you’ve done some reading of your own.”

  “Not really. Not...lately.” She moved away from the shelves. Away from his attention. “My parents were both teachers. They talked about ideas at the supper table.”

  “That’s a good way to learn.”

  Foolish, to bring up such painful memories. “It should have been. But I was a careless teenager, more involved with my friends and boys than what they had to say.” Running a finger along the top of the rocking chair, she blew out a deep breath. “I wasted the opportunity.”

  “It’s never too late to learn.”

  “Oh, I think sometimes it is. Right now I’m more concerned about what to do for Nathan and Amber than what happened thousands of years ago.”

  “You do have some decisions to make. Forgive me for butting in, but I’m hoping one of them isn’t to go back to that bastard who hurts you.”

  The intense anger in his voice mirrored her own. “That’s not an option. He stepped over the line tonight with Nathan. I can’t let him hurt my children.”

  “Good for you.”

  She gripped the rail of the rocker with both hands. “But I don’t know what comes next. Ford said something about an order of protection. Are we supposed to stay in the trailer after that? Where will Travis live? If he stays there, how will I get the children’s clothes and toys?” Once again, concerns and uncertainties ambushed her, buzzing in from all directions. “Where will I get a job in a place as small as Bisons Creek? Or do we have to move to find work? Where? How can I secure a place to live without a paycheck? What about—”

  Appalled, Susannah clapped her hands over her mouth to stop the flow of words. What had possessed her to unload on Wyatt Marshall like that? “I’m so sorry,” she whispered from behind her palms.

  He came to stand about an arm’s length away. “I can solve a couple of those problems.”

  She uncovered her face. “You’ve already done more than enough. I shouldn’t be bothering—”

  “Maybe you ought to stay here for a while. At least for the summer, while your son’s in camp.”

  “I couldn’t possibly impose on you for so long.”

  “You could if you worked as our housekeeper and cook.”

  Hearing the words made her mind go blank. She could only stare at him in shock.

  “Even if I wasn’t trussed up in this brace, I’ve never been much good in the kitchen,” he said with a lift of his big hands. “Or the rest of the house, for that matter. This summer, my brothers are going to be tied up with the ranch work I can’t do, plus the kids in the camp. Dylan’s got sculptures to work on, Garrett has his responsibilities at the church, and Ford will be going back to his law office in San Francisco soon. We really need somebody who can take care of this place, maybe put together a meal for me now and then. We would pay you, of course. And you’d be safe here while you got things...straightened out...with your husband.”

  “I—I don’t know what
to say.” She could barely breathe, let alone think. “C-can I give you an answer tomorrow?”

  “Sure. Whenever you decide. In the meantime, make yourself at home.” His smothered yawn seemed too convenient to be real. “I believe I’m ready to hit the sack. Just flip the light off when you’re ready.” He stopped at the doorway to the hall but didn’t glance back. “Night, Susannah. Come on, Honey.”

  She started, then realized that was the dog’s name. “Good night.” On impulse, she added, “What time do you eat breakfast?”

  Wyatt pivoted to face her again. He wore a big grin. “I’m sleeping late these days, don’t get up much before six or six thirty.” Touching two fingers to an invisible hat brim, he nodded. “See you in the morning.”

  Standing in the living room, Susannah listened as his footsteps receded down the hallway. Wyatt Marshall struck her as a remarkable man. Despite his injury, he seemed to be in control—of himself, of his surroundings, of life in general. And his generosity amazed her. Not only was he holding a summer camp for teenagers on his ranch, but he’d offered a solution to her most pressing problem—she and the children could stay on the ranch while she saved up the money she needed to find a new home and a real job. His kindness might even extend to giving her a reference she could use when she applied. How helpful that would be!

  After turning out the living room lamp, she went back to the lovely guest room, where she saw that Amber still hadn’t stirred. With her shoulders sagging under the weight of fatigue, Susannah folded down the covers on her side of the bed, finally ready to rest. She had just lifted her feet off the floor when her cell phone gave a familiar ring.

  Travis.

  She jumped up and grabbed her purse off the dresser, rummaged for the phone...but then hesitated as it rang again. Should she answer?

  With the third ring, Amber frowned and her eyelashes fluttered. “Mommy?”

  Susannah leaned over to put a palm on her daughter’s shoulder. “Shh, baby. It’s okay. I’m here.” With her free hand, she pushed the button to talk. “Hello?”

  “Susie? Susie, honey, where are you?” His words were slurred. “I miss you, sweetie. Come home.” He’d moved through the anger phase of being drunk and would now become more and more maudlin. If she were there, she’d put him to bed and he’d sink into unconsciousness.

  “Susie?”

  “I can’t come home.” The words were hard to say. She’d loved him for so long. Just not anymore. “We won’t be back, Travis.”

  “Don’t say that. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it, honey.” He sniffed hard, as if he was crying. “I’ll change. Really, I will. I’ll go to AA. That social worker can help me.”

  Thirteen years of promises were as much as she could take. “No, Travis. Not this time.”

  The rage flared up. “They’re my kids, too. You can’t keep them from me.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut and remembered Nathan, crumpled on the floor where his father had thrown him earlier that night. “I told you that if you hurt them, I would keep them away from you. And you did that tonight.”

  In the long silence that followed, she could hear his fractured breathing, could picture him trying to pull himself together.

  “It doesn’t have to be like this,” he said. “Give me another chance, Susie. We’ll make it work.” When she didn’t answer, he continued to plead. “We were good together, you know? We’ve had lots of fun, even with the kids. I can get it together, find a job. Don’t give up on me, Susie, I swear—”

  Susannah pressed the button to end the call and then turned off the phone altogether. As she curled up on the bed beside Amber, her eyes burned with tears. The despair she’d been fighting for hours threatened to swamp her.

  She’d made such a mess of her life. Her children were suffering because of her foolishness, her bad choices. How could she ever compensate for those mistakes?

  Wyatt’s deep, warm voice came into her head. Worry and regrets won’t change anything tonight... You’ve got friends you can count on. She recalled the concern in his brown eyes, the encouragement in his smile.

  Friends. She hadn’t had many of those over the years. Travis never liked the women she’d tried to connect with...or else he liked them too well. Susannah hadn’t been blind to those affairs. But for some reason he had always come back to her.

  Now, though, the Marshall brothers had declared themselves her friends. Caroline Donnelly would stand beside her, too. If they were willing to offer so much help, she couldn’t let them down. Couldn’t let her children down. Somehow she would have to dredge up the courage and determination to accept Wyatt’s offer. She would spend the summer working for him, doing whatever she could to make his recovery easier, maybe help with the kids’ camp, as well. Amber and Nathan would have a chance to recover from Travis’s influence and experience a more settled, responsible way of living.

  At the end of the summer, she would find a job, probably in a bigger town like Casper, or Cheyenne or Laramie. As for a divorce...she’d already filed the papers, which had only made the situation worse. Travis had never hurt one of the children until tonight, when he was notified of her petition. Now that he knew, he would put up every roadblock he could think of to keep the kids, including a custody battle, and the court might very well give him visitation, at least. Then he would be part of their lives forever. The prospect drenched her with dread. What would it take for them to be free?

  With her thoughts still in turmoil, Susannah began to wonder if she’d be awake all night long. Sleep finally claimed her but only until the sound of a shower running somewhere in the house roused her at five thirty. Anxious to start her new job—her new life!—responsibly, she groped her way out of bed and into the bathroom, where a cold washcloth on her face and arms dispelled most of the brain fog. She donned a clean shirt and jeans, combed her hair and twisted it into a messy bun. She even managed to put on some lipstick. Just as the shower cut off, she left the guest room and made her way to the kitchen.

  But the coffeepot defeated her. A stainless-steel monster with no obvious controls, it lurked on the counter, daring her to do something stupid and break it. The only coffee she found was a bag of whole beans, beside a grinder as intimidating as the brewer. Susannah hung her head. Not even six o’clock and she’d already failed.

  “Well, good morning!”

  She whirled to find Garrett Marshall standing in the doorway. His wet hair identified him as the one who’d taken the shower. “G-good morning. I was going to make some coffee, but...”

  He sent her a grin nearly as appealing as his older brother’s. “It’s quite a contraption, isn’t it? Dylan decided we should upgrade from the standard plastic-and-glass model.” He joined her at the counter. “I will admit this version makes a great brew. Let me run you through the process.”

  Within minutes, they were sampling the results. Susannah savored the aroma rising from her mug. “I had no idea coffee could taste this rich. I’ll have a pot made at about five thirty tomorrow. And breakfast at six thirty. Will that work for you?”

  Garrett shook his head. “You don’t have to worry about that. I usually make the coffee. As for breakfast—”

  “It’s my job,” she told him with some pride. “Wyatt hired me last night to cook and keep house.”

  The man on the other side of the breakfast bar gazed at her for a long moment. Then he chuckled. “Of course he did. It’s a great idea.” He offered a handshake. “Welcome to the staff at the Circle M. Wyatt is the main one you’ll be making breakfast for, besides yourself and Amber. Occasionally I’ll need something, too, and maybe Dylan, those mornings after he stays up late working on his sculpture. The camp kids do most of their own cooking, so Ford, Caroline and I try to show up for their meals as a gesture of support. I expect to lose a good ten pounds this summer, when all is said and done.”

  She laughe
d with him. “I’ll have a supply of cookies on hand, to keep your strength up.”

  “I’ll hold you to that promise.”

  By six thirty, she’d explored all the cabinets and the refrigerator, started a pan of biscuits baking and arranged a place setting at the breakfast bar, where Garrett said Wyatt preferred to stand and eat. When she heard new steps coming down the hallway, she quickly poured a big cup of coffee and turned just in time to see Wyatt enter the kitchen. Wearing a wrinkled T-shirt and sweat pants, with his hair uncombed and his puffy-eyed face unshaven, he reminded her of a bear just coming out of hibernation.

  She couldn’t help smiling at him. “Good morning! Here’s your coffee. How do you like your eggs?”

  “Damnation,” he growled, squeezing his eyes shut for a few seconds. When he opened them again, he was scowling. “I’d forgotten you were here.”

  So much for the first day of her new life!

  Copyright © 2016 by Cheryl B. Bacon

  ISBN: 978-1-474-06426-2

  THE COWBOY’S CHRISTMAS BRIDE

  © 2016 Patricia Johns

  Published in Great Britain 2016

  by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

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