Western Christmas Brides

by Lauri Robinson

  “That little thing at the top that looks like a belt broke.” Edwina pointed out. “Is it important?”

  “Critical. Looks like we won’t make it to town after all.”

  This was going to be awful news to tell the children.

  “Stop acting like a butterfly with a broken wing. We have all day to figure out a way to fix it.”

  Edwina, the one who ought to be broken, was lecturing her on being a survivor? And rightly so!

  When had she become a weakling? Never was when. If she had to go on with her life without Kit, raise two children and their dogs on her own, that was what she would do.

  Besides, she was not on her own.

  Edwina was here.

  * * *

  Bathed, shaved and wearing a clean, borrowed suit, Kit stood in the middle of Main Street gazing south. From behind, the full moon cast his shadow on the road.

  It also cast Hank’s, Mildred’s, Dr. Baily’s, Geoff’s and dozens of other folks’ shadows on the earth.

  “She should have come by now,” Kit muttered, giving voice to what everyone would be thinking.

  “Well, there’s two women and three children to get ready,” Mildred said. “Leaving on time is more of a challenge.”

  “Not one of them would miss a minute of the Christmas celebration,” he replied.

  “I’m sure everyone is healthy,” added the doctor.

  “I reckon they are just around the bend in the road,” added one of the men who had labored all day with him building the tree.

  Or, Kit feared, Livy was at home with no intention of coming. She had never expected him to give the town a new tree. Clearly, she had tossed the demand out there believing it to be impossible. Something he could never do, and therefore she could dismiss him from her life like she would a bad day.

  It would have been impossible for him to rebuild the tree on his own. Thankfully, the folks of Sweet Bank had rallied about him, contributing ideas and sweat.

  It was a pure Christmas blessing that in doing so, they had accepted him, absolved him and treated him like one of their own.

  If Livy did not come to town, see the tree and forgive him, he would be forced to gather up Emmie and leave the only place that had felt like home since—since ever.

  As if to punch him in the gut, a shrill whistle announced the arrival of the evening train.

  “Well, I doubt anyone is traveling tonight,” Mildred announced. “Let’s begin the singing.”

  He didn’t want to. He wanted to wait for Livy. But the tree was not for him alone. It belonged to everyone here. They were anxious to celebrate.

  “Let’s do it.” What was there to do but go along with it, even if he would not rejoice in the carols?

  The one and only thing that would make Christmas come to life would be Livy reaching for him with love in her eyes.

  He walked behind Mildred, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his borrowed trousers.

  Looking north a block, he admired what he and the townsfolk had created.

  It was a thing of glittering beauty, no doubt about it. The wooden tree stood fifteen feet tall, with a three-foot painted star on the top.

  With three hundred or more candles reaching and twisting, it shimmered. When the breeze rolled gently through the wood branches, strips of painted tin cans tinkled against each other.

  Behind it all, the great, bright moon shone down.

  “It’s so beautiful! More glorious than the first tree, I’ll declare.” Mary, the baker, slipped her arm through his and squeezed it. “Don’t you worry. Your wife will see the glow all the way from home and come in a hurry.”

  “I hope so. I pray so.”

  “Everyone knows the good Lord listens to Christmas prayers with a loving ear.”

  * * *

  “I’m gonna sit next to my window all night long,” Sam declared.

  “What?” Edwina turned on the front seat of the buggy, looking to where the children were bundled under a quilt. “How is Santa supposed to come if you are awake?”

  “I is going to sleep,” Emmie declared. “On Uncle Kit’s lap!”

  Livy cringed hearing the train whistle blow. How on earth could she tell a child her guardian had left her behind, and on Christmas?

  Well, by the blazes, she wouldn’t do it. Perhaps Kit was horrid enough to ruin the holiday, but she would have no part of it.

  She would simply make something up, act like everything was fine for a few days.

  Then again, acting was exactly what had landed her in this mess to begin with.

  Mess or not, she could hardly let Emmie be heartbroken.

  Livy only hoped she could be half the actor Kit was. A small, accusing voice in her heart reminded her that she was already a deceiver twice over, and that she was also judgmental.

  What if Kit had gone to town to purchase a wedding ring? How would she react to that? Would she wear it with joy or tell him that he had failed to give her back the Christmas tree?

  What good was a small voice in one’s ear when it failed to give solid advice?

  What she did know was that hearing the train whistle had broken something in her. All of a sudden the pride she held so dear when he’d maneuvered her into marriage suddenly didn’t seem so important. If he was on that train, as he well might be, her house was no longer going to feel like home. Without him she had no home.

  “I don’t remember such a glow over the town,” Edwina said, turning her face forward on the bench.

  “Only when the tree is—” Lit!

  “It can’t possibly be.” The tree was a pile of ashes. The glow had to be the moon reflecting off rooftops.

  “I hear singing.” Edwina stood up but Livy yanked her back down.

  “Be careful!”

  “I do hear singing, and there’s a huge star. Oh, my gracious word, I think he did it.”

  Livy also heard singing, but that did not mean—It could not possibly mean anything more than folks singing even without the tree.

  If she truly believed that, why was her heart about to burst from her chest as she steered the team from Filmore Place onto Main Street?

  After rounding the corner, it still took half a block for her eyes to accept what was before them.

  Smack in the center of town square was the most spectacular, glittering, shimmering Christmas tree she had ever seen.

  The singing faltered mid-carol. She hauled the buggy to a stop.

  A lone figure stepped out from the crowd. He came forward in long, urgent strides.

  Kit!

  She shoved the reins into Edwina’s hands.

  “But I don’t know how to—” she heard, before leaping down to the road.

  Kit broke into a run, his long shadow reaching toward her.

  She thought Edwina shouted something about running, but she already was. As if through a fog, she heard people cheering.

  The one and only thing she knew was that Kit was reaching for her, the amazing new tree all a-sparkle behind him.

  His arms went around her, and he lifted her up, spinning her about.

  “Livy.” His whisper warmed her neck. “You came.”

  “You aren’t on the train.” She held tight to him, feeling his neck grow damp because she was sobbing and laughing at the same time.

  “I’ll never be on the train, honey.” He set her down and cupping her cheeks in his big hands, peered into her eyes. “I never will be—no matter what you make me build for you. I love you, Livy. From the very first, I have.”

  “I love you, too.” For the longest time she couldn’t think of anything to say. She only wanted to feel him, know he was here and had not quit loving her even though she had treated him like he didn’t matter.

  Slowly she fo
und her voice. “Will you build me one more thing?”

  “Please don’t say a stairway to the stars.” Moisture dampened the corners of his eyes, but it was not running down his cheeks like her tears were. “I don’t reckon our neighbors will be up to that.”

  “Build us a horse ranch.”

  She accepted the long, joyful kiss he pressed on her mouth as a yes.

  “I’m going to need a better book.”

  Someone turned her around and wrapped her in a great hug.

  “Cherish that man,” Edwina whispered in her ear.

  “Edwina Spire!” a man’s voice boomed over a dozen good wishes given all at once. “Where are you, Edwina?”

  As one, the crowd looked toward the Christmas tree. Person by person, they shifted position, moving to block Edwina from the man in the expensive-looking coat.

  “Father!” Bentley zipped past Geoff and around Mary.

  The man caught up Bentley, joggled him in the air then drew him into a hug.

  “Santa’s going to bring me a fan and Emmie a doll and Sam a checkers game! What’s he going to bring you, Pa?”

  “Pa? We don’t use that term, son.”

  “Everyone uses it here, Pa, and Mama says I can since this is where we are going to live now.”

  Grant Spire set Bentley on the ground, placed his folded fists upon his hips and shouted, “Edwina, I’ve come to take you home.”

  Livy was pretty sure she heard her cousin curse before she pushed her way through the crowd and marched up the street toward her husband.

  “If you recall, you sold my home.” She matched his stance, but had to look up because her husband was every bit of six and a half feet tall.

  “I bought it back again.”

  “Too late. I like it here with Livy. Her husband might not be the banker but no one even cares. He could muck stalls for a living and the good folks in this town would like him just fine.”

  “What?” He shook his head as though a fly had just buzzed in his ear. “I love you, Winna. I’m sorry for what I did. I miss you and I want you back. I’ll live wherever you want to.” He glanced about frowning. “Are you sure it’s here?”

  “Exceedingly sure. And I have a dog.”

  “A dog? I don’t—I suppose that won’t hurt anything. I’ll have someone build it a nice kennel.”

  “She lives in the house with me, or you can get right back on that train, Grant Spires.”

  “A dog in the house?”

  “She’s a good pup, Pa.”

  “Father.”

  “You’ll get used to Pa. Oh, and there’s one more thing.” Edwina went up on her toes, circled her arms about her husband’s neck and drew his head down. She whispered in his ear.

  He gasped out loud, then held Edwina at arm’s length to look her in the eyes. “We did it?”

  Livy had never seen such a sweet smile on Edwina’s face.

  With any luck, she hoped to whisper that same secret to Kit one day.

  Kit hugged her tight, and winked down at her with a look that said he felt the same.

  Perhaps she and Edwina would have the joy of raising their children together.

  “All right then, Edwina. I’ll build you the biggest house in Sweet Bend.”

  “Sweet Bank—and, yes, you will. One large enough for all our new neighbors to come and visit. Warm up your voice, Grant, it’s time for singing. After that, Livy is going to read us a story.”

  Livy tried to count how many minutes that was going to take. The one and only thing she could think about just now was rushing home, tucking the little ones into bed, then closing her bedroom door to everyone but Kit—her husband.

  Her husband! She tried the title out in her mind one more time because it was such a wonder.

  She hoped the children would not really be awake all night, because she had a very special gift to open, and his smile was the most beautiful wrapping she had ever seen.

  * * *

  Kit had learned a lot about patience tonight. It seemed to take forever for the singing to end, the reading to be finished and Christmas wishes given to one and all.

  At one point he had despaired of the children falling asleep, but they had, one by one with the pups snuggled between them.

  Edwina had finally convinced her husband that her small bedroom was a perfectly acceptable place to spend Christmas Eve, and with a dog at their feet.

  Now, after much joy and anticipation, the house was quiet.

  Climbing the stairs, he noticed snow falling prettily past the window. The storm had come on quickly, but it didn’t matter. Everyone was home where they ought to be.

  Especially Livy, who waited for him behind the closed bedroom door.

  He opened it slowly, closed it quietly and leaned against it.

  Livy was dressed in a pale blue nightgown, sitting in his chair with her hair unbound. She glanced quickly up at him, her eyes shining softly while twirling a lock of amber-hued hair around her finger.

  The only thing separating him from his answered prayer was a filmy layer of fabric.

  But before he touched her, there was something that needed doing.

  He reached into the pocket of his rumpled shirt, rubbing his thumb around the wedding band that Geoff had sold him at seven o’clock this morning.

  Clearing his throat, he went down on one knee, and opened his palm to show her the pretty circle of gold.

  “I do love you, Kit,” she murmured.

  “Will you marry me?”

  “I already have—but now I do again, because I want to. I want you.”

  Sliding the ring on her finger, he kissed her hand, then drew her up. The bed was mere steps away but it felt like he had to walk a hundred miles to get to it.

  He led her toward it then felt a crunch under his sock.

  Glancing down, he spotted the short stack of bills still on the rug. Livy saw them, too.

  She bent down and scooped it up, waggling the money back and forth in front of his nose. He shook his head.

  “Give me your sock,” she demanded, but with a tender grin.

  “Here, you can have both.” One by one, he yanked them off then placed them in her palm. “You want my long johns, too?”

  “I do, but for now just one sock.”

  With a quiet laugh she shoved the money down it.

  “This is the start of our horse ranch.” She kissed him and while she did, she placed the sock in his hand.

  He took it and returned her kiss, adding a dash of heat. She responded, bringing the simmer to a boil.

  Downstairs, Santa had already filled the stockings and set out the gifts. The children were dreaming of what they would find when they awoke.

  But Kit had no plans for sleeping this night.

  While snow fell past the window and the wind moaned softly under the eaves, he touched Livy’s shoulder, trailed his fingers down her arm.

  He didn’t need a script or a book to know how to love this woman. It had been in his heart from the first time he’d seen her shivering on the road.

  His wife was the gift of a lifetime, a present he intended to open slowly and with loving care.

  * * * * *

  If you enjoyed this story, you won’t want to miss these other Western collections:

  DREAMING OF A WESTERN CHRISTMAS

  by Lynna Banning, Kelly Boyce and Carol Arens

  WESTERN CHRISTMAS PROPOSALS

  by Carla Kelly, Kelly Boyce and Carol Arens

  MAIL-ORDER BRIDES OF OAK GROVE

  by Lauri Robinson and Kathryn Albright

  All available now!

  Keep reading for an excerpt from COURTING DANGER WITH MR. DYER by Georgie Lee.

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  Courting Danger with Mr. Dyer

  by Georgie Lee

  Chapter One

  London—1813

  ‘You must do it.’ Bartholomew Dyer banged Frederick Chambers, Fifth Earl of Fallworth, hard against the wall, trying to knock the fight back into him. The unprovoked swing the Earl had taken at Bart gave him hope it could be done. ‘We need you.’

  ‘I can’t, don’t you understand?’ Freddy growled, fingers biting into Bart’s forearms. ‘I’ve given enough. I won’t give any more.’

  ‘Let go of him.’ The lady behind him punctuated her command by cocking a pistol hammer.

  Damn. Bart cursed under his breath. She’d just made the weapon more dangerous. If she wasn’t competent with it, the ball would tear through him and the Earl under his elbow.