ROMANCE: Holiday Romance: Her Christmas Surprise (Sweet Clean Holiday Romance) (Holiday Bride Book 1)

by Mercy Levy

  “Yes,” John said picking up his Bible. “The bank was robbed three months ago. A man was killed.”

  Melanie stared at John. The man was tall, strong and handsome—yet, he was beaten down, sad, and hurt. Bypassing what she had heard the old man claim, Melanie simply nodded her head. “I'm very sorry.”

  John sighed. “Some people think I robbed the bank. I tell you this because I am certain you will hear the accusations for yourself before you leave.”

  “You don't seem like a lawbreaker to me,” Melanie said and offered John a friendly smile. “Please, may I sit down? I'm tired from my journey.”

  “Would you like some coffee?” John asked politely.

  “Yes, please. Coffee sounds wonderful.”

  John put his Bible down onto the table and hurried away. Looking at the Bible with warm, caring, eyes, Melanie decided to open it. She began reading from Matthew Ch 5. Becoming lost in the passages, she didn't notice John return to the dining room holding a brown saucer and white coffee cup. “Your coffee.”

  “Oh….thank you,” Melanie said carefully closing the Bible and putting it back down on the table. “I hope you don't mind me reading your Bible.”

  John sat down the saucer and coffee cup down in front of Melanie. “Why would I mind. Is not the Lord's Holy Word meant to be read and shared by everyone?” he asked.

  “Yes,” Melanie beamed. “Only if all men felt that way, though,” she then sighed. “Please, sit down.”

  “My job is to wash dishes and clean the tables,” John informed Melanie. “Mr. and Mrs. Mayes are very kind people and have taken care of me. But I am still half Paiute and it is their wishes that I do not speak with the white women.”

  “What if a white woman wishes to speak with you?” Melanie asked John in return. “Did not God make all of humankind in His image? Why, I have Irish, German and English in me. Does that mean I am less of a woman? Surely not.”

  John was amazed at Melanie's response. For a mere second, she made him feel human—and, like a man. “You are not less of a woman because you have different types of blood in you.”

  “And you are no less of a man. Now, please, sit down,” Melanie told John.

  Reluctantly, John sat down. “Maybe for a minute, before dinner begins.”

  Melanie studied the dining room. “Doesn't seem to any customers.”

  “The weather will cause Mrs. Mayes to serve leftovers tomorrow,” John agreed. Looking down at his Bible, and then back up into Melanie's eyes, he began to wonder why such a beautiful woman wanted to have a conversation with him?

  “I'm on my way to Sacramento. I'm originally from Atlanta, Georgia,” Melanie began the conversation. Picking up the white coffee cup, she carefully took a sip of coffee. “Delicious.”

  “You are not a married woman?” John asked confused. “Forgive me, but you are very beautiful.”

  Melanie felt sadness walk into her eyes. “My husband died. We were only married for two years. After his death, I prayed and felt the Lord urge me to leave Atlanta. I chose Sacramento because...the city seemed far enough away from my memories.”

  “I am very sorry,” John told Melanie. “I did not mean to cause your pain.”

  Melanie grew silent for several seconds. “My husband died last year. He was murdered by a horrible man. Before his death he traveled around quite a bit, from town to town, speaking with different people about...the war. I rarely saw my husband and at times felt as if I didn't even know him. I loved my husband, you must understand, but his heart grew far away from me before his death.”

  “I hear rumors that a war will soon begin between the states in the east,” John told Melanie.

  Melanie took a sip of her coffee. “That's why I left Atlanta. My husband left me his wealth...I sold his home and land because I couldn’t stand to see the war destroy something he loved so dearly. I have the resources I need to begin a comfortable life in Sacramento, thanks to my husband's wonderful kindness toward me."

  “I have often wanted to begin a new life in Sacramento,” John confessed and quickly threw his eyes toward the room leading into the back kitchen.

  “Why don't you?” Melanie asked confused. “You're a grown man.”

  “In time,” John replied in a voice that ended the subject. “Dinner is ready. Tonight Mrs. Mayes had cooked roast beef, potatoes, green beans, corn bread with bread pudding.”

  “Sounds delicious,” Melanie told John.

  “I will go get your dinner,” John said and stood up. Looking down at Melanie he decided to speak from his heart. “Edward Mayes did not rob the bank. The man who robbed the bank is the same man who keeps me here.”

  Melanie watched John walk away, leaving her confused and worried. Outside, the storm grew worse and night settled in over the small town of Greenville.

  Chapter2

  Reason for Love

  Melanie decided to put her white coat over the blue dress she was wearing. Even though the hotel was nice and warm, holding the screaming storm outside at bay, she somehow felt cold. Placing her bonnet on and taking her carry purse, she left room 5 and walked downstairs to the main lobby. Sheriff Wheeler was standing in the lobby speaking with John. “I have not seen Edward,” John told Sheriff Wheeler.

  Carrying his rifle, Sheriff Wheeler appeared like a man ready to shoot first and ask questions later. Looking at Melanie walking down the front stairs, he nodded his head. “Little lady, have you seen our missing passenger?” he asked expecting no positive reply.

  Melanie paused at the bottom of the stairs. Sheriff Wheeler stood wearing a heavy brown coat and a brown hat. She could barely see the man's face due to his beard. He reminded her of a man who worked in the shadows of evil in order to keep the innocent safe. “Sheriff,” Melanie spoke in a calm tone, “the man who was on the stage coach with me tried to romance me by pretending to be a wealthy businessman. When it was clear to him I understood who he was, Mr. Mayes showed his true identity. And has sour as the true face of that man was, I did not see a thief or a killer in him.”

  “Little lady, men like--” Sheriff Wheeler begin to speak.

  Melanie held up a polite hand. “If Mr. Mayes robbed the local bank and killed a man in the process, why would he return knowing that a hanging rope would be the only thing to welcome him home? Unless he was innocent, of course.”

  “I've been asking myself that same very question?” Sheriff Wheeler confessed. “I have no evidence...I couldn't arrest the man even if I caught him. I just want to ask him some confounded questions, for crying out loud. Up until yesterday, I figured Edward Mayes did rob the bank and kill Harry Cunningham. But when I got a telegraph from the stage drivers telling me they were hauling Edward Mayes back toward Greenville as a paid passenger...” Melanie watched Sheriff Wheeler rub the back of his neck. “I need to talk to the man, that's all. This town is split right down the middle and there ain't nothing I can do until I catch the killer.”

  John looked at Melanie. “Breakfast is ready if you are hungry.”

  “I'm hungry,” Melanie informed John. Before she could say any more, the old man hurried into the lobby with a plate of food in his hand. “Here you are Sheriff,” he said in a friendly voice. “I had the wife give you double portions.”

  Sheriff Wheeler took the plate of food from the old man. “Mam, you said Edward Mayes lied to you about being a wealthy businessman.”

  “Yes, he did,” Melanie confirmed. “The man's shoes were worn down to the ground and his suit was not purchased by someone who was wealthy.”

  “Yeah, that what Old Mac said, too,” Sheriff Wheeler replied.

  “So you're not going to hang our son?” the old man asked Sheriff Wheeler in a desperate voice.

  “Someone robbed the bank and killed Harry,” Sheriff Wheeler told the old man and left.

  The old man rushed to the front door and pushed it closed behind Sheriff Wheeler. “John,” he said wiping the sweat off his forehead, “go find Edward. You're half Indian, you can track h
im down.”

  John shook his head no. “Edward has made his choices. I have made mine.”

  The old man's cheek's flushed with anger. “You're still bent on believing that you're going to put a rope around Richard Griffith's neck, aren't you? Let me tell you something, you stubborn mule, that man is the richest man in these parts. You can't touch him...no one can...even if you can prove he killed your sister.”

  “God can bring any man to justice,” John replied calmly. Focusing on Melanie, he nodded toward the dining room with his eyes. “Would like to eat now?”

  “Yes,” Melanie said. “And later, I was hoping you might walk me down to the General Store, John. I assume the General Store must be open. I've seen a few horses out on the street from my room window.”

  “Paul would keep his store open if the world was freezing into one big iceberg,” the old man informed Melanie in a tired voice. “John, will you please go and find Edward? I know my son. If he's come back to Greenville, then he's come back for vengeance. He must know who robbed the bank. I guess the Sheriff is thinking the same thing by now.”

  “We know who robbed the bank and killed Mr. Cunningham,” John told the old man in a voice that was becoming impatient. “Why do people in this town deny the truth? Everyone knows that Richard Griffith robbed the bank.”

  “Hush that up,” the old man snapped at John, “or you can get out of my hotel. No more free food and cozy bed to sleep on, Paiute. I will not have your tongue causing me trouble. Richard Griffith is a dangerous man. He can burn me and the wife out anytime he chooses.”

  “I will leave then,” John told the old man. “I am not a coward. I am not afraid of Richard Griffith.”

  “Get out then,” the old man told John and marched away.

  “Oh dear,” Melanie gasped. “John, what will you do? Where will you go? What I mean to ask is...do you have any money?”

  John glanced down at his poor clothes. “I am not paid a wage,” he admitted. “My food and bed are my wages.” Balling his hands into two tight fists, he growled. “I have been a fool to remain here for so long. I should have killed Richard Griffith many moons ago.”

  “No,” Melanie said and rushed to John. “Murder is not the answer.”

  “Richard Griffith murdered my sister,” John told Melanie. Staring into her worried eyes, he continued. “My sister, like me, was abandoned. Our mother took her to a ranch and placed me here, at the hotel. The ranch my mother left my sister at belonged to Gary Griffith.”

  “Oh my,” Melanie said as she walked deeply into John's troubled and angry eyes.

  “Richard Griffith hated my sister because she was half Paiute. But his brother, Michael, loved my sister. They were going to be married. But the night before the wedding, my sister and Michael were found dead at Shallow Rock River...both shot to death with arrows. Their murders were blamed on the Paiutes, but I know the true murderer is.”

  “How?” Melanie asked.

  “My sister left a letter for me. In the letter, she told me that she was scared Richard was going to kill her and Michael in order to steal the Griffith ranch from them. Gary Griffith was ill at the time, and it was well known that when he died his ranch would be turned over to Michael, his oldest son.”

  “I'm beginning to understand.”

  “Four days after my sister and Michael were murdered, Gary Griffith died,” John continued. “That was four years ago. Richard Griffith took his inheritance and began hiring guns. One by one he ran off most of the ranchers, taking full control.”

  “But the stage coach driver said Greenville was a nice place to live,” Melanie asked confused.

  “To the blind man,” John told Melanie. “To someone like yourself who is not aware of the poison hiding under the rug, yes, Greenville is a pleasant place to live. At the picnics and social gatherings, you will see a smiling Richard Griffith standing with the major and Sheriff pretending to watch the children play. But what people do not see is the children are nervous, the men scared, and the hired guns ready to draw on anyone who gets out of line.”

  “How horrible,” Melanie gasped.

  “Only Sheriff Wheeler has enough courage to make a stand against Griffith.” John steadied himself. “Please, you do not need to be involved with my troubles. Leave this place as soon as the storm ends. Go to Sacramento and begin your new life.”

  Melanie could not take her eyes away from John's face. Now she understood the man's pain, emptiness, and despair. Something deep within her heart could not walk away from John, leaving him all alone, to fight a battle that would certainly lead to his death. Thinking back to the first day she saw her husband, Melanie remembered a strange fight. Her husband was going fist to fist with an angry Irish man. The two men were battling in the middle of the town's main street. A large crowd was gathered, cheering on Melanie's husband. But, to Melanie's fright, the Irish man was beating her with quick and powerful punches. Yet, her husband stood his ground until the Sheriff arrived and stopped the fight. “He would have rather died than to have admitted being defeated,” Melanie whispered.

  “Who?” John asked.

  “Huh...oh, I was thinking about my husband. John, you remind me of him...his courage and willingness to fight until the very end. My husband was a peaceful man and died fighting for peace. But he never backed down from a fight worth fighting, either,” Melanie explained staring into the face of an angry and hurt man. “John...come to Sacramento with me.”

  John stared at Melanie in shock. “You do not even know me? I am a stranger to you.”

  Melanie couldn't she believe that she asked a man—who, in truth, was a complete stranger to her—to travel to Sacramento with her. What in the world was she thinking? But Melanie knew what she was thinking. “Perhaps, John, God made this storm because I was meant to stop in this town and meet you? Let's take a walk, okay. Walk with me to the General Store.”

  John agreed. He walked to the front took, took a brown coat off a wooden coat rack, and escorted Melanie outside into a snowy, stormy, morning. The town was completely white, hindered with icy winds and flying snow. Melanie didn't see a single soul. “Are you sure?” John asked over the winds.

  Melanie nodded her head. “Yes,” she called out using her right hand to hold her bonnet down. John studied the front street, looking through the snow with cautious eyes. Something in the way he examined each building, each corner, each shadow, let Melanie know that danger was not far away. “Ready?”

  “Yes,” John answered.

  Melanie drew in a deep breath and slowly looped her left arm around John's right arm. John looked down at Melanie's arm. He had never had a woman hold his arm before. He had never kissed a woman or even held hands. “I trust you,” Melanie promised John.

  John wanted to smile, but he knew being out in the open, in a blinding storm, made him an easy target. Richard Griffith wanted him dead. Hurrying away from the hotel, John led Melanie past a few wooden buildings, finally stopping at the General Store that was hugged between Doc Mayfield's office and Mr. DeLoach's feed store. “Very cold,” Melanie told John stepping into a neat and orderly room full of merchandise, food, and supplies. The room was being warmed by a wooden stove sitting in the middle of the floor.

  John pushed the front door closed. His eyes walked up to the front counter. He saw a short man with thick black curly hair reading an inventory sheet. The man glared at John, then glanced at Melanie, and went back to his chore. “I don't have any money,” John admitted shamefully.

  “I have money,” Melanie assured John and began browsing the wooden shelves. “John,” she said in a serious voice stopping at a shelf holding canned food, “I have never been to Sacramento. It's scary going to a new place all alone. Have you ever been to Sacramento?”

  “Once,” John answered Melanie, “when my sister died. Mr. Hayes sent me away. He was afraid I might cause trouble for him. When I returned, he took me back in because he thought it was wiser to watch me than to let me go around unsupervised.”
/>
  Melanie looked into John's troubled eyes. Her heart longed to love again. Yet, she felt guilty. She was a widow. How could a woman ever love again after losing her husband? But was Melanie's husband really her true love? The man had been kind and decent to her; loyal and faithful. But he had not been able to give her children, or the true happiness she so desired and hungered for. And, Melanie thought sadly, her husband had become a stranger to her before being killed.

  Tangled up in her thoughts and emotions, Melanie looked away from John. “It's very warm in here….well kept. I'm very impressed.”

  John glanced up at the man standing behind the front counter. The man glared at John but didn't say anything. It was obvious John was not welcomed in his store. “Is there anything you want to buy?” he asked Melanie.

  “Yes,” Melanie smiled at John. She waved at the man at the front counter. “We need assistance please.”

  The man put down the piece of paper he was holding and ventured down the front aisle to Melanie. “Yes, mam, how may I help you?” he asked.

  “I need new clothes this man,” she explained. “I want the best you have. Money is not an issue. I want a hat, jacket, shirts, pants, socks and boots.”

  “No,” John objected.

  “Yes,” Melanie replied in a stubborn voice. “If we're going to be traveling to Sacramento together, you will need new clothes.”

  “I never said--”

  Melanie waved her hand at John. “The Lord does not want you in this place, John. You don't belong here. Maybe you don't belong in Sacramento, either. But I'm not leaving without you. When we get to Sacramento, you can find work and choose what path you want to take. Until then, I'm going to make it my personal duty to take care of you.”

  “The sooner you get out town the better,” the man told John in a serious, hateful, voice. “I'm surprised Richard as let you live this long.”

  John balled his hands into fists. Melanie shook her head at him. “Sir, if you want my business, get the items I asked for.”