The Rancher’s Christmas Miracle

by Maya Stirling

  THE RANCHER'S CHRISTMAS MIRACLE

  Brides of Inspiration

  Book 7

  By

  MAYA STIRLING

  1879

  The Blessing of Family at Christmas

  Grace Buchanan never thought she'd see rancher Josh Munro again. Three years ago he courted Grace but then left without explaining why. Now, Josh Munro has come back for good. And he has brought a shocking surprise with him. Grace faces the prospect of a reunion with the handsome but troubled rancher. The only problem is, she doesn't know if she can trust Josh again. Her heart was broken once before. Grace doesn't want that to happen again.

  Josh Munro has returned to Inspiration to face up to the past. Josh didn't plan on becoming a family man, but God's plan for him seems to include being father to a small, orphaned boy. Now Josh must find a wife. As he faces the challenges of family and following God's will, Josh realizes winning happiness with Grace might be impossible.

  With Christmas coming, can Grace and Josh overcome the barriers that stand between them and take their second chance at happiness?

  The Rancher's Christmas Miracle is a standalone FULL LENGTH NOVEL in the Brides of Inspiration series. It can be read on its own and as part of the series. It is a clean and wholesome historical Christian romance with inspirational themes of faith, family and love. And it has a guaranteed heart-warming happy ending.

  Copyright

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  © 2018 Maya Stirling

  And be ye kind one to another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, even as God for Christ's sake hath forgiven you.

  Ephesians 4:32

  Dear Reader

  This is the third story about the cousins to the original Buchanan family from the earlier books in the series. In this story Grace Buchanan reunites with her former sweetheart, rancher Josh Munro whose life has changed in an unexpected way. I wanted to write a story which shows how forgiveness, love, and trust in God can be the foundation of family.

  The novel takes place in the weeks leading up to Christmas. I hope you enjoy reading this story as much as I did writing it.

  The Brides of Inspiration series of novels will continue.

  Love

  Maya

  CHAPTER ONE

  Inspiration, Montana

  December 1879

  Grace Buchanan wrenched on the reins of the buckboard as it skidded to the side of the trail. Both horses shrieked as the buckboard's wheels dropped down into a deep, snow-filled rut at the trail's side. Grace groaned as she released her grip on the reins and clutched the side of the seat, trying her best not to tumble from the lurching buckboard and onto the freezing ground.

  Feeling the cold wind cutting into her, Grace tugged on the hood of her heavy, dark blue woolen coat and eyed the glowering, gray clouds. She shivered. Squinting her eyes, she gazed out across the rolling grasslands. A steady curtain of light snowflakes tumbled all around her, making it hard to see very far. Three weeks to Christmas. At least it promised to be a white one, she told herself resignedly.

  The decision to take the buckboard into town had been a bad one. Jake had told her not to do it. He'd warned her about the weather. And Emma, the beautiful easterner Grace's brother had married three months before, had agreed. Usually that would have been enough for Grace to change her mind. But, there had been something in the way Jake had lifted his brow and smiled at Grace that had triggered a familiar and instinctive defiant response in her.

  So, she had ignored all good sense and traveled into town. The trip into Inspiration had been cut short when the snow had finally started to fall during the late afternoon. As she'd driven the buckboard hurriedly out of town, Grace had been sure she'd be able to make it back to the Buchanan ranch before things got any worse. But, she'd been wrong. The snow had gotten heavier by the minute. And now she was stuck.

  Grace leaped down off the buckboard. Her booted feet sank through the thin covering of snow and into the soft earth. She slid suddenly and grabbed onto the wooden edge of the buckboard to steady herself. Even with thick woolen gloves, Grace could feel the biting cold on her fingers. The air caught in her throat, chilling her lungs as she dragged in a breath.

  She moved forward, seizing the reins and taking up a position by the side of the horses. She was sure they eyed her suspiciously as she started to coax them forward. But both animals steadfastly refused to move, staying rooted to the spot. As if to emphasize their defiance, both animals shook their heads in perfect unison and blew huge puffs of steamy breath. Dropping the reins, Grace peered at the horses, sensing she'd met her match.

  Moving to the rear of the buckboard, she pushed on its corner. The wheels moved a few inches. Then she felt the huge weight of the buckboard as it rolled back into the rut. Grace grunted in frustration and pushed again. Once more, she felt the buckboard shift forward and then, again, settle with a heavy lurch back into the deep hole by the trail's side.

  Suddenly, from behind her, she heard the steady, rhythmic sound of horse's hooves on hard-packed ground. She turned and gazed through the shimmering miasma of falling snow. A lone rider was making his way toward Grace. He was dressed all in black, and wore a dark Stetson pulled low over his face, hiding his features. Something about the ghost-like apparition made an even greater chill descend upon Grace.

  The rider came to a halt a few yards from Grace. He lifted his head and Grace saw his features. Darkly stubbled chin; sunken cheeks; eyes like coals that burned in the cold, late-afternoon light. He wore a blank expression. The hardness of life was written on his face. She guessed he was in his late thirties. Grace didn't recognize him. That wasn't unusual. Strangers were always passing through Inspiration.

  When he spoke, his voice was cracked and dry. "Having yourself some kind of a problem there, ma'am?" he asked.

  Something about the way the stranger was looking at her triggered urgency in Grace. "Nothing I can't fix myself," she said defiantly, heaving her weight, unsuccessfully, against the buckboard. It didn't budge. "Thank you for offering," she said abruptly.

  When she glanced back at him, she saw the corner of the man's mouth crease with a sardonic smile. "Let me give you a hand there," he declared.

  As she watched him dismount, something like panic swept through Grace. The man strode across to the buckboard, halting by Grace's side. The scent of outdoor living and whiskey hung momentarily on the wind. He glanced at the packages stacked on the plank between the buckboard's wheels axles. Grace's reticule, filled with money sat between two small boxes. She'd removed it before setting out on her journey home. The last thing she'd expected was trouble from a possible robber. Was that what this man intended to do? Rob her?

  Grace took a step away from the man. His dark gaze lingering on her a long moment, he heaved on the corner of the buckboard. In spite of his lean frame, he seemed possessed of surprising strength. The buckboard lurched forward and the wheels sprung free of the rut by the trail's side. The buckboard almost made it up onto the trail. But, as if deciding to torment Grace, the man seemed to let the buckboard slide back down into the rut. She was sure he had failed deliberately. What scheme did he have in mind?

  He turned to her and, for a moment, pretended to be frustrated. "Almost got it out, there." He slapped the side of the buckboard
and turned to face Grace. "The thing is just too heavy," he said, arms stretched wide. As far as Grace was concerned, the man didn't sound as if he meant a single word.

  Sensing the growing danger, Grace dashed for the seat. As she did so, the man took hold of Grace's arm, gripping it tight. Grace yelled out and froze still, glaring into the man's eyes. "Let me go, sir!" she exclaimed.

  The man shook his head slowly and grinned. "I can't do that, ma'am," he murmured.

  With the snow whirling around her, Grace felt like she was suddenly in the eye of a physical and emotional storm. Anxiety twisted in her middle, but she was determined not to show weakness. She grabbed at the man's hand and dug her nails into his cold skin. The man yelped and released his grip on Grace's arm, giving her a chance to clamber up onto the buckboard's seat.

  Grabbing the reins, Grace tugged at them, hoping the horses might just be affected by the urgency of the movement. Grace yelled out at the animals. She felt a sudden edge of desperation. The animals pounded their hooves onto the snow-covered ground. She felt them pull at the buckboard. The wheels turned and she felt the buckboard rise up onto the trail. Hope surged in her heart.

  Then, she felt the buckboard stall. The horses halted as if sensing the resistance behind them. Then the man's hands were on Grace's right arm. His fingers curled around her arm. She twisted and glared at him. "What do you think you're doing?" she demanded.

  The man smiled, revealing yellowed, uneven teeth. "We'll soon see, won't we?" he replied sharply. Now there was a harshness in his gaze. All pretense had vanished. Fear gripped Grace.

  Suddenly from behind her, Grace heard the sound of wheels and horse's hooves on the trail. The man froze and peered into the falling snow. Grace twisted and saw a Conestoga wagon making its way toward her out of the curtain of snowflakes. She felt relief sweep through her body.

  Sitting on the driver's seat was a solitary man. Holding the reins of the four horses hauling the wagon, the man's head was lowered. Most of his features were hidden by a gray Stetson, but from the set of his stubble-covered jawline and his trim, wide-shouldered physique, she guessed he was younger than the stranger currently clutching her arm. Just as the driver lifted his head, apparently noticing what was going on in front of him, Grace turned back to the man holding onto her arm.

  Grace glared at the dangerous stranger. She was tempted to cry out in triumph, now that she was no longer alone, but sensed it was too early for that. She heard the wagon draw to a halt. Then her arm was released. For a moment, all she could hear was the wind coursing over the rangeland. She tugged the hood of her coat, trying to protect herself from the cold and the wind.

  Then, she heard boots thud heavily onto the earth and footsteps signal the newcomer's advance. Her assailant watched, wide-eyed as the other man came toward them. Grace turned. The stranger from the wagon still had his head lowered as he continued to advance toward the buckboard. He was dressed in a snow-covered, gray duster that hung down to his dark boots. A feeling, impossible to identify, flickered into life inside Grace as she watched the man make his way through the swirling flurries of snow. Grace narrowed her eyes, trying to make out the man's features.

  Finally, he halted. His head lifted slightly, and then he spoke. "What do you think you were doing with this woman?" he demanded in a low growl that fought with the wind. He pointed a gloved hand at Grace. "You trying to make a nuisance of yourself, stranger?"

  Grace gasped. That voice! She peered through the tumbling snowflakes. Surely it couldn't be him, she told herself. She must be hearing things. Hallucinating.

  The troublemaker stepped away from Grace, heading straight for the man who had thwarted his efforts. "Don't see that it's any of your concern," he grunted. "Why don't you just be on your way," he suggested threateningly.

  Grace squinted, trying to make out the newcomer's features. Trying to confirm her unbelievable conclusion. The man shifted quickly, flicking his duster open, revealing dark clothing and a gun belt. Suddenly, there was a pistol in his hand. "That's the thing," he said evenly, without the slightest trace of nerves. "I've already arrived. This here's my homeland."

  Her heart tightening, Grace lifted a hand to the edge of her hood and slid it away from her head. Now fully revealed, she stood up on the ledge of the buckboard and stared disbelievingly at the man holding the gun. His head lifted and his blue-eyed gaze settle on Grace. She saw his mouth open and heard him gasp. His eyes widened. "Grace!" he exclaimed.

  "Josh Munro?" Grace called out. "Is that really you?"

  Sensing his moment, the troublemaker made for his horse, obviously eager to escape. Grace pointed at the man and yelled out: "He's getting away."

  Turning back to Josh, she saw him take a few steps toward the hastily retreating figure. Josh held his pistol pointed at the man, but Grace already knew no shots would be fired. The other man leaped onto his horse, twisted the reins and kicked his mount into a gallop. Within moments, rider and horse faded into the steadily thickening white wall of falling snow.

  Grace gazed down at Josh. He turned his head and looked up at her. For a moment, she was speechless. Then Josh thrust his pistol into his holster and lifted a hand up to Grace, offering to help her down. She glanced at the upraised hand, then placed her shivering fingers into his firm grasp. She leaped off the buckboard, landing right next to him. She could hardly believe it was him.

  Josh took hold of her by the shoulders and peered at her. She could see the disbelief in his eyes. A combination of shock and delight.

  Grace gasped. "Is it really you?" she asked incredulously.

  He nodded. "Have I changed that much?" Josh replied.

  Grace narrowed her eyes and nodded. "You look different."

  The truth was Josh had matured in the almost three years since she'd last seen him. He'd filled out. His face was heavier and his jawline tighter. His eyes had a quality she'd never seen in them. Harder. Weary looking. And his voice was heavier.

  But, in spite of all those changes, he was still as handsome as ever. Breathtakingly so, she told herself. And, as had been the case all that time ago, just standing this close to him was enough to trigger never forgotten sensations in her. Even in the midst of the snowstorm, even with anxiety fading, her heart warmed. Grace wanted to hug him, but knew she couldn't. There was a whole lot of wariness in his gaze, she told herself. It wouldn't be a good idea to stir up old feelings. Not after the way things had ended between them both.

  "What are you doing here?" Grace asked, trying not to sound disappointed as she saw him lift his head and gaze down at her. She felt a sudden distance between them. A familiar coldness that wasn't caused by the winter snow.

  He let go of her shoulders and lifted a brow. "I could ask you the same question." He looked suddenly serious. "That critter didn't hurt you, did he?"

  Grace shook her head. "You know me. I can take care of myself."

  Josh frowned. "He looked like he meant to cause you harm."

  Grace waved a dismissive hand. "It's all over," she said brightly. "What are you doing back in Inspiration?" She glanced at the Conestoga wagon. "And what's with all that? Are you planning on heading out to California or something?"

  Josh shook his head slowly. He looked suddenly grim. "I'm here to stay."

  Grace peered at Josh. "What?"

  He drew in a deep breath and pulled the duster closed. "I'm back to claim what's mine."

  Grace frowned. "What're you talking about?"

  "You know my pa died a couple of months back," Josh said.

  "I heard about it. The whole town did. But, I haven't visited the ranch much since you left," Grace explained.

  Josh paused a moment. The subject of his leaving could still trigger a chill in his attitude. "I don't imagine you'd have much call to go to the ranch. Considering how things ended between us," Josh observed.

  Grace hugged herself, feeling things suddenly getting colder. She was determined not to respond to that last comment. No use taking the bait, she told hers
elf. She'd left all of that behind three years ago. "You're staying in Inspiration?" she asked steadily.