A Western Christmas Homecoming: Christmas Day Wedding Bells ; Snowbound in Big Springs ; Christmas with the Outlaw

by Lynna Banning

  He knew for certain how strong that door had been because he’d helped the blacksmith, Bronco Larson, install it shortly after Lola and Sophie had moved to town. That summer was when Sophie started hanging around the livery. School wasn’t in session and she’d been bored staying in that little room all day. Lola had asked Gramps if it was all right, and Gramps had asked him.

  It wasn’t as if he’d been able to say no. He’d felt sorry for Sophie. Though her room held the finest furniture of any room in town, and she’d had dresses and toys that made the other girls jealous, she’d had a lonely little life.

  Knowing that, and being able to relate since he’d lived alone with Gramps since his parents had died when he’d only been three, he’d given her a few small jobs, brushing the horses or filling their grain bins, all of which she completed perfectly. She’d been good company, too, full of the latest gossip that a child her age shouldn’t have known. He’d enjoyed her daily visits. Until that final summer—somewhere throughout the winter she’d gone from a girl to a young woman—and he realized he was looking forward to her visits more than he should. He was five years older than she was. She’d only been fourteen, he nineteen, and liking her too much had started to worry him.

  Which was part of the reason he’d listened to Colleen and went south instead of north. He was supposed to have gone to buy horses; instead he’d ended up at the gaming tables in New Orleans.

  Switching his train of thought while leading one of the big horses into their stall, he said, “These are some fine horses.”

  “Yes, they are,” she replied, leading the other one into its stall. “I named them Ben and Bob. B and B for short. I hope you don’t mind.”

  Both big horses, B and B were in between them, making it impossible for him to see her. “Why would I mind?”

  She walked around the back end of the horses. The wrinkles between her brows were back, as was her doubtful and confused look. “They’re your horses.” She grabbed two old saddle blankets and tossed one his way while walking back to the other horse. “They’re the first horses you had delivered after you left. Don’t you remember?”

  While using the blanket to dry off the horse, he contemplated his answer. After arriving in New Orleans, which is where he’d discovered Colleen had stolen a goodly sum of money before leaving Big Springs and that the money she’d stolen had been his grandfather’s, finding a way to pay his grandfather back became his mission.

  He’d done that at the gaming tables. Lady luck seemed to become his best friend. That was where these horses had come from, and several others. Some men didn’t know when to stop, and wouldn’t until they’d lost everything they owned.

  “I’d acquired these two unseen,” he finally said.

  Her silence had to be accompanied by another one of those wrinkled brow looks.

  He was right. It was there as she poked her head around the horse he was still drying.

  “Unseen?” She shook her head. “No one buys a horse unseen, especially you.”

  She would know that about him. It was the other things about him he hadn’t wanted her to know. Then and now. He hadn’t wanted anyone to know. But Lola had. Colleen had told him so. Shrugging his shoulders, he went back to drying off the horse. “I trusted him.”

  * * *

  Sophie hadn’t been able to believe most everything he’d said since the moment he jumped out of the sleigh, and this one wasn’t believable, either. He was a stickler when it came to horses, those he bought, sold and rented out. Then again, maybe she’d never known him as well as she’d imagined, because five years ago she’d never have believed he’d run off with a dance-hall girl and his grandfather’s money. But he had. Run off with Colleen and every last dime Chester had at the time.

  She’d been devastated by that. By his absence. He’d been the only thing she’d liked about this town, and it didn’t get any better after he left. In fact, it became worse. If it wasn’t for Chester, she had no idea what she would have done.

  “I was sorry to hear about your mother.”

  Sophie had to draw in a breath before she could answer. Few people made any form of reference to the death of her mother. Not then or now. She figured they thought reminding her of who her mother had been would sully them, and she had come to accept that. “Thank you.”

  “I wish I would have known sooner.”

  Hanging the wet saddle blanket she’d used to dry off Bob over the rail, she asked, “Why?”

  “Because I could have...”

  His silence said he was trying to come up with an answer, but there wasn’t one. She knew that. “There wasn’t anything anyone could have done.”

  “I could have sent you some money or something,” he said.

  She withheld a sigh. “For what?”

  “Whatever you needed it for. To move somewhere else. Or, well, I don’t know, just whatever.”

  The butterflies taking flight in her stomach said he’d stepped up beside her, and all the swallowing in the world wouldn’t settle those fluttering wings inside her. Closing her eyes didn’t help, either. That might have made breathing more difficult than those silly butterflies.

  She opened her eyes and twisted in the opposite direction, walking toward the grain bin to give B and B each a can full.

  He followed. “I’ll feed them. You go inside.”

  Anger rose up inside her. She’d been feeding the horses since he’d left, and liked it. The horses didn’t mind who her mother had been. “Why are you here?” She filled both cans at the same time and moved toward the horses. “After five years, why do you just show up? In the middle of a snowstorm?”

  He took one of the cans. “I didn’t plan to arrive in the middle of snowstorm. I just wanted to see Gramps. It’s been five years.”

  She knew exactly how long it had been, and knew history wouldn’t repeat itself. Not for her or Chester because she wouldn’t let it.

  They both emptied their cans into the feed troughs.

  “Put out that lantern. I’ll get the other one,” he said while taking the empty can from her.

  Sophie took down the lantern hanging on the post, extinguished it and hung it back up, keeping one eye on Welles the entire time. She should be glad he was home. For Chester’s sake. He wanted Welles here. Talked about it all the time. Despite his orneriness at times, she had come to care about Chester almost as if he was her grandfather, and knew he wasn’t getting any younger. Which meant she had to be on guard for both of them. Chester and herself. If the rumors she heard were true, Welles couldn’t be trusted. No gambler could be. Shortly after she’d been born, her father had decided he’d rather gamble away his money than take care of his wife and child, and had left. Never to be seen again.

  “Ready?”

  “Yes.” She pulled on her mittens while walking around the sleigh. He grabbed a traveling bag out of the bed, blew out the last lantern and met her at the door.

  The big door snagged on the snow as they pushed, but it opened wide enough for them both to squeeze out. The snow was still falling, the wind still blowing, leaving drifts for them to trudge through.

  She tucked her chin into her coat collar as they moved forward. Speaking was impossible. Not that she had anything to say. There were a dozen questions swarming her mind, but she wasn’t certain she wanted to know the answers to most of them.

  He hooked his arm through hers and said something, but the wind made it impossible to hear as he pulled her forward at a quicker pace. The darkness and blowing snow made it impossible to see. Although she’d made the trek from the livery to the house and back again a million times over, the blizzard made the familiar pathway confusing. By the time they reached the steps to the house, Sophie was so turned around, she was certain she’d never have made the short distance by herself.

  Chester pulled the door open as soon as they stepped onto the porch.

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nbsp; “I was starting to worry about you two,” he said.

  “So was I,” Welles said. “I would never have thought I’d get lost between the house and the stable.”

  “You didn’t get lost,” Sophie said while pulling off her mittens. “You brought us right to the door.”

  “The front door.” He pulled off his hat and gloves. “I was aiming for the back one.”

  His grin, which was as mischievous as she remembered, made her heart flutter. He used to do that all the time. Make her heart flutter. Back then he’d made her smile, too, especially on days when she’d thought there was nothing to smile about.

  “Best get those wet coats off before you start dripping on the floor,” Chester said. “I have a pot of coffee on the stove.”

  “You always have a pot of coffee on the stove,” Welles said. Then glancing at her, he asked, “That hasn’t changed, has it?”

  Sophie bit her lips together as she shook her head. The glimmer in Welles’s eyes had her remembering happy days. Happy times. Something she hadn’t allowed herself to do in a long time.

  Welles never took his eyes off her as he removed his coat. “Some things never change.”

  The air stuck in her lungs as her heart skipped a beat. He looked older, more mature than before, and if anything, that increased his handsomeness. His eyes were as dark brown as Chester’s coffee, and thickly lashed, and like always, had a slight squint as if they were hiding a deep, dark secret that he’d never reveal. “No, some things don’t.”

  “I’ll take your coat to the kitchen,” he said.

  Regaining an iota of her senses, she shook her head at the hand he held out. “That’s all right. I got it.” Gathering all of her wet things, she carried them into the kitchen and hung them near the stove, leaving hooks open for him to do the same. Then she sat in the chair, removed the heavy boots she used for barn work and replaced them with the shoes she wore around the house.

  She should go change her clothes, too, but needed to check the pot roast she’d put in the oven. Thinking there would be others for supper, she’d made plenty. Far more than the three of them would eat.

  “Sit down, Welles,” Chester said. “Tell me about all the places you’ve been.”

  Welles sat, and if she’d been thinking about changing out of his old clothes and into one of her dresses, she wasn’t now. She wouldn’t miss hearing what he had to say for all the clothes in the world.

  Chapter Four

  Lying in the bed that was familiar in some ways, foreign in others, a good portion of guilt sat heavy and thick inside Welles. Gramps had been fishing for more information, had even laid out opportunities for him to lay claim that Colleen had been the one to steal the money, not him. He hadn’t been able to take those opportunities for a couple reasons. Good reasons. The main one had been standing at the stove, all ears.

  Colleen had told him that Lola had figured out he was more interested in Sophie, the young girl that she’d been back then, than a man his age should have been. He’d tried not to be, and had thought he’d made sure to never let on just how interested he’d been. Colleen said she’d never told anyone about Lola’s concerns. As far as he knew, she hadn’t. Not even after they’d left town, and he had to honor that. She’d kept his secret, so he’d keep hers. He’d paid back every penny she’d taken tenfold, and would continue to. That would have to be enough. Letting people, including Gramps and Sophie, believe he’d been the one to steal the money was the price he had to pay.

  No matter how much it bothered him to have anyone believing he was a thief.

  Much like his arrival, his departure hadn’t worked out how it was supposed to. Sophie had been growing up, and not only had she still been too young for him, he’d known if Lola ever sensed his growing attraction, she’d have put a stop to Sophie visiting the livery. That would have crushed Sophie. She’d loved the horses, everything about them, and taking care of them had been her only fun. Knowing that, he’d suggested that he should take a trip up to Wyoming to buy horses. The livery business had been good, but they’d been doing more than renting out horses and buggies. They’d been selling them, and folks for miles around had come to depend on him and Gramps to have quality animals.

  Gramps had readily agreed, and had given him a good amount of money to buy a dozen mounts. A nineteen-year-old with more money than sense proved to be just what it was. A disaster about to happen.

  That was what had happened. A disaster. He’d gone to the saloon the night before, and did more boasting than he should have, and the next morning, feeling more than a bit under the weather, he’d saddled up and headed out of town. In less than three miles of traveling, he’d come across Colleen. She’d had one of the horses from the livery. One, due to his fog-filled head, he hadn’t even noticed had been missing.

  She’d told him about Lola, and how she was looking into sending Sophie east, to a boarding school, mainly to get her away from him. There had been more to it than that, but needless to say, they’d headed south, he and Colleen. He’d known it had been wrong, that he should have at least told Gramps, but his mind had been on Sophie, and he hoped, if he was gone, Lola wouldn’t send her away.

  Shortly after they hit New Orleans, he’d discovered Colleen had stolen more than a horse from Gramps. While boasting about his upcoming journey in the saloon, Colleen had questioned him on how he could have enough money to buy a dozen horses. His boasting had grown then, and in his state of mind that evening, he’d thought his secret would be safe with her. His secret about how Gramps kept a fair sum of money hidden in the hayloft.

  Yes, he’d been an idiot, and had been paying for it ever since. On more than one account. It had taken a while to convince himself he liked the life of a gambler, and even longer to accept it was his only choice.

  The wind was still making the windows rattle, and it had taken half the night, but the chill that walking to town yesterday had set in his bones was gone. He’d never been that cold, for that long, and never wanted to be again. However, there was work to be done, and he best get to it. As he tossed aside the covers, he grinned. He’d missed the sense of satisfaction that comes from taking care of something, someone, other than one’s self, and was looking forward to heading out to the barn, saying good morning to the stock.

  Layering on the clothes Gramps had loaned him yesterday and a few of his own, Welles made his way downstairs and out the back door. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d risen before the sun—there had been plenty of times in the past five years when he’d been climbing into bed rather than out of it as the sun rose—but it felt good. Even the icy-cold air felt good.

  Snow was no longer falling, but the wind was still blowing. He had to plow through waist-deep drifts on his way to the barn, but the good-morning nickers from the horses when he arrived in the barn was worth every step.

  Call him crazy, but even the smell made him smile. While feeding, watering, checking over and cleaning up after all dozen horses in the barn, Welles started wondering why he hadn’t returned sooner until the door opened and she walked in.

  “What are you doing?”

  The accusation in her voice and eyes was as strong as it had been last night when she’d asked why he’d shown up in the middle of a snowstorm, and much like last night, her nearness stirred things inside him that had no business being stirred.

  “The morning chores,” he answered.

  “I do the morning chores.” She looked around while gnawing on her bottom lip.

  “They’re all done.”

  She took a final glance around before asking, “How long have you been out here?” He shrugged and held up the shovel in his hand. “Awhile. I was just heading out to start shoveling a pathway to the house.”

  The pinch of her lips said she wasn’t impressed. “The horses will need to be let out into the corral. They’ll get stiff standing in the stalls too long.”
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br />   “I know, but they’ll be fine for a few more hours.” He carried the shovel to the door. “After I shovel a path to the house, I’ll inspect the corral for ice. Don’t want one of them slipping and breaking a leg.”

  “There shouldn’t be any ice in the corral.”

  He stopped in front of her. “There could be. If the ground was warm enough, the snow could have melted before it started to stick, and then froze. That’s why I’m shoveling a path to the house first, to see what the ground is like.”

  She was smart, and saw the logic in his answer, but she wasn’t any more impressed; with him, that is. After a final glance around, she must have been satisfied to some degree, because she walked toward the door. He got there first and pushed it open for her, which didn’t impress her, either.

  “Breakfast will be ready shortly,” she said without looking toward him.

  “Thanks.” He took a moment to glance at the sky, which had turned gray and ominous enough to be brewing up another bout of snow, before he scooped up a shovel full of snow and tossed it aside. “I’ll be in as soon as I shovel a pathway.”

  She stood there for a moment, then started walking toward the house. “There’s coffee ready now if you want some.”

  “I’ll wait, but thanks.”

  He tried not to watch her walk away. Not only did he fail at that, he once again felt a bout of jealousy over his old clothes. The britches, the coat, the boots. Even the hat. None of them had looked that good on him. Not that he’d expected them to. He hadn’t expected to be this drawn to her all over again. He had thought a lot about her over the years, hoping Lola hadn’t sent her back east like she had wanted. He’d wondered about that, too, if she had gone and stayed back east, and right now he wondered about what Lola would think about how her daughter was dressed. How she was working in the livery and living with Gramps. That wasn’t the life Lola had said Sophie would have. She’d wanted the best for her daughter. A life that was as opposite as the one she’d had as possible. A life he couldn’t give her. He hadn’t even been here when Gramps needed him, let alone a wife and family.