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

by Lynna Banning

  “Marry me?”

  She gave herself enough time to say, “Yes,” before kissing him again. His lips, his neck, his chin.

  His kisses ran along the side of her face, her forehead. “I’ll build you a house on your land, if you want, or buy some other land.”

  “Someday, maybe,” she said while placing more kisses along his jaw. “Chester needs us here right now.”

  Welles pulled too far away for her to keep kissing and grasped her upper arms. “You don’t mind that? Taking care of Gramps for at least a few more years?”

  “If I minded taking care of Chester, I’d have left years ago.” She ran a hand up his chest until it was right over his heart. “He’ll be very glad you’re home to stay. Almost as glad as I am.”

  “Should we go tell him?”

  Slipping both hands around his neck, she pulled his face forward. “In a few minutes.”

  As his lips met hers, he said, “Or an hour.”

  * * *

  If you enjoyed this story you won’t want to miss these other great full-length reads by Lauri Robinson:

  Winning the Mail-Order Bride

  Married to Claim the Rancher’s Heir

  In the Sheriff’s Protection

  Diary of a War Bride

  CHRISTMAS WITH

  THE OUTLAW

  Kathryn Albright

  Dear Reader,

  Thank you for journeying with me one more time to Oak Grove so that Abigail could have her own happy-ever-after. I’ve grown to love this imaginary town and the people that make it so fun. Here’s to communities and the souls within them who share in each other’s joy and grief, and who look out for their neighbors. May your Christmas be bright!

  Kathryn

  Dedication

  I’d like to dedicate this Christmas story to my wonderful readers. It is a joy to write stories for you.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Epilogue

  Chapter One

  Oak Grove, Kansas—1879

  Abigail White bent over the counter, reading the next edition of the Oak Grove Gazette with a critical eye. If this proof was perfect, she and her brother could go ahead and print the rest for circulation tomorrow.

  The bells above the door jingled, disturbing her concentration as her brother entered the office, bringing with him a brace of cold November air.

  “Morning.” He strode past her and the printing press and down the narrow hallway to his small office in the back.

  She followed. They had to discuss the upcoming advertisements for the special Christmas edition of the newspaper. She had tried yesterday during Thanksgiving dinner, but he had put her off, saying he wouldn’t talk business on a holiday in his new home. She’d been shocked. In all the years they had lived together he had never minded talking business. Now, with a wife and daughter, he was putting up walls and keeping her more and more at a distance.

  “We need to talk, Teddy.”

  He shrugged from his overcoat and hung it on the wall peg, and then hooked his bowler hat over his coat. His shirt was more rumpled than usual. “Sorry I’m late. Dorie had a fussy night. I think she was overly tired from yesterday’s excitement.”

  “You don’t think it was the apple pie I made, do you? I found it a bit tart.” She’d had an upset stomach herself, but she certainly wasn’t going to admit that to Teddy. He had growled at her enough over the years about her lack of skill in the kitchen.

  When he didn’t immediately answer, she prompted him. “Teddy?”

  “Maybe. It might have been the pie. She had a spoonful of stuffing too. Anyway, she’s sleeping hard now and so is Hannah.” He walked past her and into the kitchen, rubbing his hands together and blowing on them to warm them. He stopped at the stove. “No fire yet? No coffee?”

  She shook her head. The paper was more important. She really wanted him to—

  Teddy sighed. “It wouldn’t hurt for you to try. Coffee is not that difficult.” He crumpled a handful of old newspapers and stuffed them into the belly of the stove, followed by a scoopful of coal.

  She’d simply been concentrating on a new article. “I’ve been busy.”

  “Pulling typeset?”

  “That and other things.” She pulled the pencil out from where it rested over her ear and slipped a small notepad from her apron pocket. She’d just had another thought about the Christmas edition. She jotted down a word to help her remember it. “Look... Teddy...”

  “You could have visited more with Josiah.”

  She drew back. Josiah. Again. “I did! We talked about the Betterment Committee.”

  “That’s not what I mean. You could have asked something personal, even just asked how he was.”

  She scowled. “I wasn’t interested in how he was. Now that the Betterment Committee has supplied the twelve women and they are all happily married off, I don’t see the need for the committee anymore. I wanted to find out what he was going to do with any unused funds.”

  He looked up from the coffeepot.

  She wasn’t ready for the compassion she saw in his gaze. “Stop it, Teddy. I know I’ve complained about the committee in the past. I’ll admit, I was slightly bitter. None of those men ever took a second look at me.”

  He sat down at the small table, waiting on the coffee to boil, a routine that had played out often over the past eleven years. He’d been sixteen and she eleven when the cholera had swept through their neighborhood in Philadelphia. It took Father first. Their mother’s dying instructions had been to take the family printing press and leave before they came down sick too. After several years in Missouri, they’d settled here.

  “What about the men that are left?”

  She shrugged. “Cowboys and farmers? What would we talk about? Crops and planting schedules? Cattle? I have nothing in common with them. And that includes Josiah Melbourne.”

  “You don’t let anyone close enough to know you, Abby. You are all...”

  She wouldn’t let the fact that he had used her nickname lower her defenses. She crossed her arms over her middle. “What?”

  Teddy sighed. “Sharp edges and prickles.”

  “Where is it written that I must marry anyway? I have my position here at the Gazette. I am fine.” She disliked talking about this subject. It was so...personal and it never accomplished anything. Turning from him, she took two mugs down from the cupboard.

  “I just hate to see you alone.”

  “Not everyone is destined to find their perfect match. You said yourself that no man wants a woman smarter than him.”

  He covered his mouth as he coughed. “Not quite. What I said was that it would take a man who is confident in his own abilities to be your complement.”

  “It’s the same thing, just couched in more pleasant words. And there aren’t any such eligible men in Oak Grove, so that’s the end of it.” His assessment stung in ways he’d never understand. Didn’t he realize that she’d rather stay single than sit across the table and try to converse with a man she had nothing in common with? She wanted someone with whom she could discuss ideas and debate issues. It wasn’t a matter of being prideful. It was a matter of being realistic.

  “You should see this as fortunate,” she continued. “I’m here to take care of the Gazette when you are busy and I don’t mind playing the spinster aunt to Dorie. So please don’t worry about me.”

  “You are being melodramatic. Twenty-two is not spinsterhood.”

  She didn’t bot
her to reply. Instead, she plopped the newspaper proof down in front of him. “Can we please get to work? Patty Owens has asked to do an article.”

  He slipped his glasses from his vest pocket and curled the wires over his ears, then peered at the newspaper critically. “She’s still in school,” he said, as if that closed the matter.

  “It’s her last year. I told her we’d need a proposal and a sample of her writing.”

  “Hmm.” He kept reading.

  “I was her age when I started.”

  He looked up from the page. “I don’t have time to work with her. I’ll leave it for you to decide. Make it for the Christmas edition, since that is your responsibility.”

  It wasn’t until much later, after Teddy had gone home and she’d locked the front and back doors to the Gazette office, that she took her candle and climbed the stairs to her room. The conversation with her brother had played in her mind all day. Did she push people away? Was she the one keeping her distance?

  Teddy knew her better than anyone—knew the best and the worst of her and still he stood by her. If she were truthful with herself, some of their biggest arguments had been a test to see if he would leave her. She knew she was difficult at times. Yet he had always stayed. Even happily married, he included her in his life.

  She set the candleholder on the table by her bed. The nights were so long and quiet now. She wrapped her shawl closer around her shoulders and sat down in the rocking chair by the window, staring down at the main street of town. Lamplight shone from the second-story window above the Taylors’ barber shop. Next door to them the bank was dark. The entire street, down to the church and school at the end, was bathed in silvery-blue shadows from the half-moon. Beyond them, the dark meadow blurred into the night sky, where a myriad of stars twinkled.

  Now that Thanksgiving had passed, everyone’s thoughts would turn to Christmas—her first one completely on her own. With the weddings this year, it seemed that life here was all about settling down. A handful of town folk, she and the mayor included, were the odd ones out. Hence the awkward dinner at her brother’s house.

  She didn’t have a close friend—never wanted or needed one as long as she had Teddy. Friendships could be...messy. It was better to keep a comfortable distance. As a reporter, it helped her to stay objective. That way she could present a story honestly. The trouble was, she had never felt so lonely as she did now with Christmas looming. This time between the two holidays was supposed to be filled with good cheer and friendship. How could that be if she had no one to share it with? She didn’t even know how to go about making a friend or, with her sharp tongue, keeping one.

  A dash of light trailed across the sky over the church steeple—there and gone the next second. A shooting star!

  Memories flooded her of sitting on the steep back steps of their brownstone in Philadelphia, safe in the crook of Father’s arm. Even though she knew it was only nostalgia urging her, she closed her eyes and concentrated on the streak of light that she had just seen. I wish for one true friend this Christmas. Please!

  * * *

  The town of Barton, Colorado, shrunk in the distance as Russell Carter leaned low over the withers of the horse he’d “borrowed” and rode stealthily down the narrow deer trail and farther into the thick pine forest. He kept to the trees and followed the rock-strewn river down the mountainside. If his luck held, he’d get to the station ahead of the sheriff and take the train east. If it didn’t, he’d have to ride at night and rest during the day.

  Every jarring step his mount took caused the pain in his side to flare. He held his arm tight against the gunshot wound and clamped his teeth together to keep from crying out. Since he’d used up a mountain’s worth of luck by surviving this long, he figured he didn’t have much left.

  Wanted for murder... The sheriff’s voice still rang in his ears.

  It all happened so fast that it was jumbled in his head—which was pounding. He must have hit it hard when he fell. He crunched back down, resting his head on his mount’s neck. He had to make it out of here. He just had to...

  Chapter Two

  “Miss White! Miss White!”

  Abigail stopped in front of the mercantile and waited, shifting the packages in her arms.

  Patty Owens hurried toward her, breathing hard from her rush down the boardwalk. Her face was so pink from exertion that half her freckles had disappeared. She waved two papers in her hand. “The samples of my writing you wanted.”

  Abigail was late for her appointment with Sheriff Baniff. She really didn’t have time for conversation. “Deep breath, Patty.” She suddenly realized that she’d been tapping her foot impatiently and stopped. She wasn’t sure whether she should encourage the girl. Newspaper work required long hours, and the income from the Gazette wasn’t enough to hire another person.

  Abigail shifted the box she held and took the papers. “Are your parents agreeable with this?”

  Patty blew out a breath. “Just this once, since Miss Burnett is grading it as a school project.”

  Abigail realized she was tapping her toe again. When had that started up? She stilled it. “All right. Have you figured out the focus for the article?”

  Patty looked a bit surprised. “Well...Christmas of course.”

  As though this time of year there was nothing more important. “That’s a broad subject.”

  “Well...I thought that I’d interview each of the children in class and find out what they want.”

  Abigail shook her head. “Too self-serving of the children. Christmas is about giving, remember? Stop by the Gazette when you come up with something a bit more focused.” She gave Patty a stern look. “And that doesn’t mean I’m saying yes.”

  Patty lowered her shoulders. “This is important to me, Miss White.”

  “I’m beginning to realize that.” She was impressed with the girl’s tenacity. “We’ll talk again. For now, I have an appointment with Sheriff Baniff I must attend.”

  She watched until Patty disappeared into the mercantile. Likely, with Christmas just around the corner, the girl would get caught up in any number of activities and forget about the article. She hurried to the newspaper office, where she dropped off the packages and handed Teddy his mail, then she grabbed her notepad and marched across the street to the hotel.

  The first floor of the hotel housed the main restaurant in town. Sheriff Baniff sat enjoying a cup of coffee at his regular table by the far window. Once, he had explained that he liked to be able to see out. Even though Oak Grove was fairly tame for a town, it could get rowdy in the spring and fall when ranchers drove their cattle to the stockyards on the east edge.

  “Sorry I’m late, Sheriff.”

  He started to rise.

  “No. Please,” she said quickly. She unbuttoned her overcoat and left it on a nearby chair before sitting across from him.

  Rollie Austin approached the table. “The usual, Miss White?”

  “Yes. Thank you.” She had tea during these sessions with the sheriff. It was much more refined than coffee.

  Rollie disappeared into the kitchen.

  Flipping open her notepad, she pulled the pencil from above her right ear. “Now. What news, Sheriff? Any more ideas about the fire in Mr. Owen’s wheat field?”

  “Vagrants. It looked to be initially contained.”

  Abigail jotted that note down. “Like a cook fire?”

  “Yep. Whoever started it is long gone.”

  She tapped the end of her pencil on the table, mulling over the facts she knew about the fire. “What about a group of boys? Boys are fascinated by fire.”

  At that moment, Rollie came with her cup of tea. She held her tongue, conscious of the fact that it was Rollie’s boy, Kade, along with several others near his age that, when together, had a mischievous bent. Then another thought came to her. She lowered her voice. “Do you suspect liquor was
involved?”

  “No evidence of it.”

  She stirred honey into her tea. “If you find out anything, please let me know. According to the paper from Dodge City, a number of ladies are pressuring the state legislature to declare a law prohibiting the sale of liquor in the entire state.”

  Sheriff Baniff huffed out a breath. “That won’t make our saloon owners happy.” He withdrew a folded piece of paper from his vest pocket. “I received this from the marshal in Barton, Colorado. There was a murder at the silver mine there two days ago. The murderer escaped. He is believed to have boarded the train and headed this way. I want you to get the article into the next edition.”

  “Forewarned is forearmed, I always say. Wouldn’t that be frightening to have a murderer in our midst?” She unfolded the paper.

  And forgot to breathe.

  It couldn’t be. Russell Carter! His hair was shorter now, and he wore a small mustache and goatee. She let out a slow breath.

  The sheriff narrowed his gaze. “Are you all right, Miss White?”

  Inside, she was shaking. She concentrated on breathing regularly while she folded the paper back up and tucked it inside her notepad. “Yes. Absolutely. I have a strong constitution.”

  “Then you’ll take care of it?”

  “Certainly. What...what did you say he is accused of? Murder? Are there any particulars that I can include in the article?”

  “Something about a long-standing grievance. The foreman was pushing for better working conditions. He walked into the company office. There were words. And he was shot.”

  “And then Russ—the man pictured here—got away?”

  “He was last seen at the train station.”

  “If he took the train, he could be anywhere by now. Denver, Chicago, San Francisco. It’s been three days.” She rose from her seat. She had to tell Teddy. Russ was his good friend.