Cowgirl Under the Mistletoe

by Louise M. Gouge

  “Yes, ma’am!” Everett’s blue eyes sparkled with excitement. “That’d be fun.”

  Grace chuckled. He was new to the West. Real soon, he’d get over the idea that ranch work was fun.

  “Yessum.” Once again refusing to look at her, Adam stared at the reins in his hands.

  Yep, he was guilty all right. Now Grace just had to prove it.

  Chapter Six

  After editing his message for tonight’s meeting and spending an hour or so working on his latest novel, Micah set the hymnals on the pews and then headed back to the parsonage. The moment he opened the kitchen door, the aroma of fried chicken set his mouth to watering. Miss Sutton stood at the stove, a frilly white apron covering her blue dress, a change from her traveling suit.

  “Come on in, Reverend Thomas.” She cast a quick smile over her shoulder. “Supper will be ready in about twenty minutes. Why don’t you relax and read your newspaper? Joel fetched it from town when he went to buy the chicken.”

  For a moment, Micah could only stand and stare. Delicious, mouthwatering smells notwithstanding, why did he feel as if he’d suddenly become a guest in his own home?

  Miss Sutton questioned him with another glance and one perfect, arched eyebrow.

  “Yes. Yes, of course.” He stepped toward the hallway door, then remembered his manners. “Supper smells wonderful, Miss Sutton.”

  “Why, thank you.” She sounded as if the compliment came as a surprise, but her smug smile told a different story.

  Micah couldn’t fault her for being confident. Most ladies in Esperanza had high opinions of their own cooking. Some of them were right.

  In the parlor, he greeted Joel and chatted with him for a few minutes before picking up the Esperanza Journal. Mindlessly skimming the stories, he wondered what Grace and Sheriff Lawson would think about a front page story exposing Hardison’s presence in the area and his threats. He’d have to speak to them this evening at prayer meeting.

  After supper, he and his guests walked over to the church. Miss Sutton didn’t try too hard to hide her displeasure over using the back doors of both house and church. Micah would make sure to use front entrances when he escorted her in the future.

  Supper had been filling but still left a lot to be desired. He couldn’t fault the light, fluffy biscuits or the mashed potatoes and gravy. The chicken, on the other hand, couldn’t be compared to Mrs. Foster’s fried chicken. Maybe the older lady wouldn’t mind telling Miss Sutton which spices she used to make hers so tender and tasty. Not exactly something Micah could recommend, but nothing kept him from praying about it. The Lord did say that His children could cast all of their cares on Him. Surely that included the food one ate. Micah chuckled to himself, then quickly dismissed his grin. Tonight’s meeting was far too important for any kind of merriment. People’s lives were at stake, and as their pastor, he must set a sober tone to the gathering.

  “Where would you like to sit?” Joel spoke to his sister as he gazed around the empty sanctuary.

  “Why, what a charming little church.” Bible in hand, Miss Sutton also studied the room. “I do believe it would be appropriate for us to sit on the front row with our host.” She gave Micah a sidelong look and a smile. “If that’s all right with you, Reverend Thomas.”

  “Certainly.” Micah’s collar suddenly seemed a bit tight.

  To his relief, parishioners began to file into the sanctuary, most coming to the front to greet him. He presented each one to his guests, including newspaper owner and editor Fred Brody. Micah noticed a spark of interest in Fred’s brown eyes as the tall, gangly young man bowed over Miss Sutton’s gloved hand.

  “Miss Sutton, I would be pleased if you and your brother would give me an interview for my newspaper’s social column.”

  Social column? When did that debut? Micah gave Fred a questioning look, but the newsman had eyes only for the young lady.

  “Why, we would be delighted, wouldn’t we, Joel?” She gave Fred a cool smile, belying her words.

  Her expression improved slightly when Micah introduced banker Nolan Means, who came with his sister, Anna. Nolan’s eyes, like Fred’s, sparked with interest as he kissed her hand.

  “How nice to meet you.” She sounded a bit more sincere this time. “Joel and I must come to your bank tomorrow and arrange a transfer of some of our funds from our bank in Virginia.”

  “It will be my pleasure to serve you, ma’am.” Nolan invited her to sit with Anna and him, but she politely declined.

  “Perhaps next time? I feel it only appropriate to sit with our host tonight.” She gave Micah another one of her simpering smiles, and again, his collar felt as if it had shrunk.

  He didn’t have time for this. Far more important matters must be attended to rather than flirting young misses. As if to punctuate his thoughts, Sheriff and Mrs. Lawson entered the church, with Grace and Mrs. Foster right behind them. Grace escorted Mrs. Foster to the organ and then joined her parents on the front row. Micah felt a pinch of disappointment when Grace didn’t even look his way. He certainly could use her support, but recently she seemed to have taken a step back from their friendship. On the other hand, Sheriff Lawson didn’t usually attend church on Wednesday nights, so his presence would reinforce the somber tone of the meeting.

  As he went to greet the lawman, he saw in the corner of his eye that Miss Sutton had approached Grace and her parents, George and Mabel Eberly.

  “I do believe you have our seats.” She spoke in her well-modulated, finishing school tone, but there was an edge to her voice nonetheless.

  Micah couldn’t see the older Eberlys’ expressions, but in profile he saw thunder on Grace’s brow.

  “Why, honey, there’s plenty of room.” Mabel Eberly, another one of those motherly women his congregation was blessed to have, stood and gave Miss Sutton a warm embrace. “Just set yourself down by me, you and your brother. We’re so glad to have you here visiting the parson.”

  One would think the dear lady had assaulted Miss Sutton. The younger woman stiffened, gasped and cast a quick, startled glance at Joel. Joel shrugged—his usual gesture when his sister gave him that look.

  George Eberly also stood, shook hands with Joel and offered a welcoming word. Grace appeared to be busy with her Bible. Or maybe she was praying for patience. Micah sure was.

  “Evening, Preacher.” Sheriff Lawson gripped Micah’s hand and gave it a hearty shake. “I know you’re surprised to see me tonight. Wouldn’t want to interfere with the prayers, but this is the closest thing we have to a community meeting here in Esperanza. When the rest of the folks arrive, do you mind if we talk about those notes everybody’s getting? I found one on my desk an hour ago.”

  Hiding his alarm, Micah once again focused on the truly important issues. “Problems and prayers go hand in hand, Sheriff. Who else has received a note?”

  “Andy and Frank, the two cowboys who guarded the outlaws over at the Del Norte jail. Nolan Means, though you wouldn’t know it from that phony smile he’s wearing. I expect he doesn’t want to alarm young Anna. I have to credit him for that. Old Edward MacAndrews, of all people. Rand and Marybeth got theirs, one each, this afternoon out at Four Stones Ranch. Several people came by the place today on business, so no telling who left the notes. They were tucked under the boot scraper by the back door so somebody’d be sure to find them. I expect it’s common knowledge that Rand and Marybeth are staying with his parents. I’m glad to see the whole Northam clan stayed home tonight, as I advised them.”

  Micah felt sick to his stomach. So the outlaws would even threaten a young expectant mother. Could such evil men be redeemed? Yes, the scriptures were filled with stories of vile sinners who came to Christ. Micah must keep believing, must keep teaching his congregation that redemption was for everyone and that God was fully aware of this danger now facing the community.

&
nbsp; “Sheriff, what would you think of plastering this story all over the front page of the Journal?” As he spoke, Micah warmed to the subject. “Maybe include the pictures from the outlaws’ wanted posters so newcomers to the area could see what they look like. Not only would that alert the community, but it would inform the outlaws that everyone is on the lookout for them. They won’t be able to surprise anyone.”

  “Well...” The sheriff drawled out the word. “I’m not so sure about that.” He scratched his jaw, making a rasping sound as his fingers combed over a day’s growth of his salt-and-pepper beard. “Let me think on it for a bit.”

  The sanctuary soon filled to overflowing, with cowboys young and old standing at the rear so ladies and older folks could sit. If nothing else, this unusual burgeoning of midweek attendance, in the winter, no less, gave an indication that most everyone had heard about Hardison’s threats. It meant the good people of Esperanza had every intention of joining with their neighbors to protect the community. While Micah would rather they all made a practice of coming on a regular basis, maybe the Lord would use this occasion to show them the benefits of praying together. To that end, he took his place at the front of the room.

  “Welcome, everyone. Shall we begin by standing and singing ‘A Mighty Fortress Is our God’?”

  * * *

  Grace could hear Miss Sutton’s voice clear down the row. She must be used to singing solos, because she sure did sing loud. But it was pretty, too. Not as pretty as Grace’s sister Laurie’s voice, but nice enough. A minister’s wife should have a nice voice, so that boded well for the young lady’s prospects with the Rev, especially if she also played the piano. Grace tried to be glad for him, but it wasn’t easy. Maybe not even possible.

  When Miss Sutton tried to get Grace’s parents to move, Grace came near to telling her off. The Rev had always said nobody could claim a pew as their own in this church. If somebody wanted to sit on the front row, they could. Of course, most folks preferred to sit farther back, like Grace’s sister Georgia, who sat in a middle row with some of her friends. But Miss Sutton just arrived in town today. Wasn’t even a part of the community, at least not yet, so she had no call to displace anybody.

  Of course, Ma had stood up and hugged that stuck-up lady. Grace wanted to laugh at the shock on the girl’s face. Cold as a fish, that one. Her brother had just stood there and let his sister do the talking, and now they were all five squeezed into that one pew with no room for the Rev to sit with them. Oh, well. He usually stood at the front, so he wouldn’t mind. From the lift of Miss Sutton’s chin, she sure did. Well, Grace minded her minding. Who did she think she was?

  The familiar words of the song she’d begun to sing without thinking sifted into Grace’s mind.

  “Let goods and kindred go,

  this mortal life also;

  The body they may kill:

  God’s truth abideth still,

  His kingdom is forever.”

  Grace forced her thoughts to the issue at hand. She could let goods and possessions go, but not her kindred, not her friends. It was her job to make sure no one in this community was killed by those outlaws, and she had every intention of making sure she protected them.

  The song ended on a rousing “Amen,” and everybody took their seats. The Rev took his place at the lectern and delivered a short sermon about evil not being able to prevail against the power of God. After he finished, he held up a piece of paper.

  “Here are the prayer requests for tonight.” He read the list, which included everything from financial needs—no names mentioned—to health issues to a child’s prayer to have a pet dog. Kindhearted man that he was, the Rev believed in casting all care upon the Lord, no matter how trivial it might seem to others.

  Included in the requests for health was one for Mr. Starling. Grace noticed none of the Starling family had attended, but they rarely did. Now if she could just figure out how Adam had managed to deliver all of those threatening letters without being noticed. It chilled her to the bone that she hadn’t caught him in the act at the Northams’ ranch. She needed to be more watchful. Must never let herself get careless like that again.

  After several folks stood and offered prayers for various requests, the Rev took his place on the platform again. “Before we have our closing prayer, we need to address the matter of Dathan Hardison and Deke Smith.”

  The room got quiet. Not a rustling paper or shuffling boot, not even a sniff or a cough disturbed the silence. Even Miss Sutton froze in place, which made her look like a porcelain doll—and just as empty-headed. Guilt pinched Grace’s conscience. The woman couldn’t help being beautiful any more than Grace could help being too tall.

  “I’ll turn the meeting over to Sheriff Lawson.” The Rev sat on the opposite side of the room, his handsome face creased with concern. Not worry. Just concern. Grace admired that about him. She wished she could have as much faith that God would look out for the good people of Esperanza. If He was looking out, Hardison and Smith never would have escaped the Cañon City State Penitentiary in the first place.

  The sheriff stood and moved to the front of the room, and everyone else sat up and took notice. Tall and broad-shouldered, Lawson inspired confidence with his no-nonsense, take-charge bearing.

  “No need to tell you what this is about,” the sheriff said. “You all know Hardison and Smith escaped from prison.” He went on to explain about the threatening letters and who had received them, himself included. For some reason, he didn’t mention the letters were written on stationery stolen from Mrs. Winsted’s mercantile. Grace would ask him about that later.

  “Reverend Thomas had the idea that we should put pictures of these varmints on the front page of the newspaper.” He looked at Fred Brody. “That all right with you?”

  “Yes, sir. A fine idea. I’ll—”

  “Good.” The sheriff wasn’t one to let people ramble on, and Fred could talk the rattles off a rattlesnake. “We’ll make sure everybody in Rio Grande and Alamosa Counties has a copy of the paper. With that many people on the lookout, these outlaws won’t be able to make a move without somebody seeing them. If you do see ’em, report their location to me or to Deputy Eberly.” He narrowed his eyes and surveyed the room, making eye contact with numerous people. “I don’t want a single one of you to take on these men. Is that understood?”

  A hum of “yessir” and “wouldn’t think of it” filled the sanctuary. Grace wanted to add that they could also tell the Rev, but it might sound like she was contradicting her boss. That wasn’t the way she operated.

  “Now, I want everybody to go about your business just like you would any other time.” The sheriff turned to the Rev. “You can proceed with your plans for the young’uns’ Christmas pageant.” He turned to the banker. “Nolan, I suppose you’ll be having your fancy dress Christmas ball up at your house. Go on with that. The Northams planned to have the children out to their place after the pageant as usual, but we’ll change that to the church reception hall. On a day-to-day basis, everybody can come to town for shopping, that sort of thing. Just be on the lookout.”

  After another prayer from the Rev, the folks began to file out of their pews with little conversation. Then Mrs. Foster began a spirited rendition of “Onward Christian Soldiers,” and everybody stuck around to sing several verses. Good old Mrs. Foster was sending them off with a fine, encouraging hymn. Too bad encouraging hymns didn’t keep people safe.

  * * *

  Two days after the prayer meeting, Micah had just stepped into the sheriff’s office when news arrived that the first of the outlaws’ threats had become a reality. Andy Ransom, one of the cowboys who’d guarded Hardison and Smith while they’d awaited trial, rode into town to report that his expensive collection of whittling equipment had been destroyed.

  “Not only that, but all the dolls and soldiers I’d whittled for the children’
s Christmas party are broken to bits.” Shoulders slumped in dejection, Andy stood in front of the sheriff’s desk rolling his hat in his hands. “I’ve been working on those all year.” He straightened as if dismissing his heartbreak. “That’s not all. Frank’s saddle was slashed so bad he can’t use it.”

  “Is Mrs. Lewis all right?” Micah felt sick to his stomach over this latest development. He would go see her right away.

  Andy nodded. “Scared but unhurt. The poor old gal is a mite deaf, so she didn’t hear a sound yesterday while Frank and I were out feeding the herd. It was dark when we got back to the bunkhouse, so I waited until this morning to report to you. Frank stayed to clean up the mess. And to be there for poor Mrs. Lewis.”

  “Cowards.” Sheriff Lawson stood and strapped on his gun belt, then pulled out his Colt .45 and spun the chamber to be sure it was fully loaded. “I’ll go out there and see what I can see. Grace.” He called toward the back room.

  “Yessir.” She came through the door carrying a broom, no doubt from sweeping out the jail cells. Seeing Micah, she gasped and her eyes widened in surprise. “Something wrong, Rev?”

  He was a bit surprised himself at the odd little lift of his heart over seeing her. It had been two days since prayer meeting, but he’d somehow missed her. Maybe it was those two days with Miss Sutton...

  Grace brushed the back of her hand across her face, leaving a smudge on one cheek that made her look incredibly winsome.

  Micah couldn’t help but smile. “Hello, Grace.”

  “Ahem.” The sheriff cleared his throat noisily and nodded toward Andy. “Andy here tells me the outlaws have made good on their threats.” He repeated what the cowboy had said. “I’m going out there now.”

  “I’ll go with you.” She disappeared briefly and returned without the broom—or the smudge on her cheek.

  “Sheriff,” Micah said, “do you mind if I go along, too? I’d like to see how Mrs. Lewis is doing.” He didn’t like the idea of the spunky widow being frightened in her own home.