Caroline Lee's Christmas Collection: Six sweet historical western romances

by Caroline Lee

  In the six months she’d been home, she’d written two more books to send to her publisher, and all the money she’d made she’d poured back into the ranch’s funds. When Ash had protested, Wendy was matter-of-fact: “It’s only fair. If you’re going to support me while I follow my dream, the least I can do is pay for my own keep.” Molly didn’t mind cooking for one more person, and it was nice to have extra cash on hand.

  She was probably the only one not surprised by Wendy’s big announcement, when it was revealed that she’d become a successful author in St. Louis. Of course, Molly wasn’t that big of a reader, but she’d borrowed a few of Nate’s copies and tried Wendy’s books, and had to admit that they were fun to read.

  Serena, on the other hand, had nearly fainted from the shock. Molly smiled to remember the younger woman’s reaction: “You? These books Nate keeps lending me are yours? You wrote them?” It was like she hadn’t believed Wendy the first three times she’d said ‘yes’. She made up for her doubting her best friend by buying multiple copies of every single book by “W. Jones” for the Cheyenne Library.

  Molly had been so busy reminiscing that she missed Wendy’s departure. Her sister lifted her skirts—she was dressing more simply now that she lived on the ranch again, no more bustles—and skipped down the steps. Crossing the yard, she called out something to Pete that Molly couldn’t hear, and continued towards the corral. Seeing her coming, Ash straightened and started ambling back towards the porch.

  Molly’s husband reached the porch and sat down on the top step, close enough that she could touch his sweat-plastered hair when he removed his hat. He groaned theatrically and leaned into her touch, but she chuckled and moved her skirts out of the way. “Not until you bathe, mister!” and she saw him grin. She loved him year-round, but she especially liked when he shaved off his beard in the summer, and she could see that handsome dimple in his chin.

  Together, they watched Nate sign something to Annie, and then join his wife at the rail to the corral. From here, Molly could see the love and happiness in the younger man’s face, as he lifted Wendy’s hand and kissed her palm. Wendy wrapped her fingers through his and climbed up on the fence beside him. They made a handsome pair, and Molly wondered what they were talking about.

  “He sure seems content, huh?”

  “I was just thinking that. He changed so much while she was gone.” This carefree brother-in-law of hers had grown into a brooding and bitter man after Wendy went to St. Louis. She watched him start doubting himself, and become angry and defensive. Now that Wendy was his wife, they all saw more of the boy he’d once been; laughing, teasing, and content with who he was. Of course, he rarely went into Cheyenne these days; aside from the trip in February where they’d all gathered at Serena’s house again for the wedding, he’d only gone back a few times. He was happy here. In love.

  “Well.” Ash lifted one dirty hand towards her, and Molly took it immediately. “Things change.”

  “Yes, they do, don’t they?” She looked down at the large hand in hers, and remembered when they’d first met. Who would have thought they would journey this far together, that Christmas in Cheyenne when she’d met an angry Indian boy and tried to defend him from his older brother? Who would have guessed that Ash—the largest man she’d ever seen—could be so gentle and loving?

  But this dirty hand in hers was the one that touched her so beautifully, that gripped hers when she needed strength, and that had cleaned their newborn children and placed them in her arms. This was the hand that would hold hers until their death, and if she was lucky, would be the last thing she’d touch in this life.

  This wasn’t the end of their story. It wasn’t the end of Wendy and Nate’s story, despite the hardships they’d overcome to make it this far. This wasn’t the beginning either. Life was a journey, and the best anyone could hope for was finding love along the way.

  Rising to his feet, Ash pulled her up as well. She went happily into his arms. “Mrs. Barker, your sons are trying to kill one another.”

  “Oh no,” she said in mock sternness, “When they try to kill each other, they’re your sons.”

  He dropped a kiss to her upturned lips, and she felt a burst of contentment. “Fair enough. Should we go rescue them?”

  Dear God, she loved this man.

  “They’d probably like the chance to wrestle with you for a change.”

  He smiled. “Well, then, let’s go make our kids happy.”

  They stepped off of the porch, continuing their journey… together.

  Author’s Note

  On Historical Accuracy

  As I mentioned in the historical notes in A Cheyenne Thanksgiving, setting a story in a city requires copious amounts of research. After all, this was a real place at a real time (December, 1883), and we can know what St. Louis was really like then.

  Wendy’s world is as accurate as I can make it. Pratte Avenue, Park Street, and Lafayette Square were the realm of wealthy St. Louisans in the last decades of the nineteenth century. Horse-drawn street cars and cabs carried residents across the bustling city to popular gathering places like Tower Grove Park, Forest Park, and Anthony Faust’s Café and Oyster House on Broadway. And of course, no story set in St. Louis would be complete without mention of the Anheuser-Busch brewing empire and the rest of St. Louis’s bustling industrial section.

  St. Louis was known for its Fairs, the most famous of which was the World’s Fair in 1904. They fed into the residents’ desire for entertainment and public gathering spaces, and occurred yearly. The Fair Grounds Park became a popular spot, encompassing eighty-three acres of buildings, trails, the country’s largest amphitheater, and a zoological garden. The yearly Fair and Veiled Prophet parade were a big draw, but Charles Green made the racetrack the most popular aspect of the park. It was the start of St. Louis’s love affair with horse racing.

  Just as Charles Green was a real person (although his contract with Nate is entirely fictionalized), many of the other secondary characters are real historic figures. While the Mulligans and the Blakelys are constructs, Wendy’s original employer, Mr. Morgan, was real. He was the principal of the first “high” school in St. Louis, and the elocution he hired Wendy to teach really was part of the first-year course of study.

  Wendy’s publisher, Mr. Lee, was from the pages of history as well. Laird & Lee Publications was founded in 1883 in Chicago, and was known for its dime novels. I like to imagine that Wendy, as “W. Jones”, was one of their first successful authors. I could have chosen a more famous publisher (Joseph Pulitzer was active in St. Louis at the time), but I couldn’t pass up the chance to boost William Henry Lee’s fame a bit. Lee bought out his partner in 1884, and when he died a very wealthy man in 1914, it was revealed that he was actually a light-skinned black man. This would have made him one of the first black publishers in America.

  But my favorite secondary character in A Cheyenne Christmas Homecoming is Nate’s landlady Mrs. Gardner, because of her colorful history. Elizabeth “Big Liz” Lewis Raglin was born in St. Louis in 1832, and was known for her beauty, singing ability, and preference for hard liquor. While traveling with her first husband in Salt Lake City, she met Archibald Gardner, a prominent man in the Mormon community. She divorced her husband and married Archibald, to become his tenth wife (although she “lacked the sterling quality of womanhood possessed by his other wives”, according to his biography). After about twenty five years without children of her own—although she did raise five of his children by another wife—she petitioned for a divorce and headed south with another man. Although some evidence points to her dying soon after, I like to imagine that she ended up back in St. Louis, enjoying her golden years while managing a boarding house. I got a kick out of researching her story, because Archibald Gardner is my children’s great-great-great-great-grandfather, and I’m fascinated by the women who married him.

  Finally, I wanted to draw your attention to the train travel in the book. You may remember from A Cheyenne Christmas th
at Nate followed the railroad to Wyoming, as various lines pushed to link the cities of the American west. Well, sixteen years later they had succeeded, and it was possible to travel from St. Louis to Cheyenne in only a bit over two days. Nate and Wendy take the route via Omaha, with stops in towns all across Nebraska. The Pullman car that they sleep in was one of a fleet that were attached to most of the trains of that era, created and licensed by George Pullman himself. The porters in these cars were almost exclusively black men, and proudly answered to the nickname “George”. It was considered a respectable career in a time where former slaves were struggling to find their place in society.

  Of the books in The Sweet Cheyenne Quartet, this one required the most difficult research. There is a wealth of information out there about the St. Louis of 1883, and I sifted through most of it. It was worth it, though, to capture the anticipation of the Christmas season in such an exciting time and place. I hope that you’ve enjoyed reading about it as much as I’ve enjoyed writing about it.

  Wendy and Nate feature heavily in Where They Belong, the next Christmas-themed romance in this series. You can find it at the end of this collection by skipping to the end of this anthology, if you’re anxious to read it.

  If you’ve enjoyed the history behind A Cheyenne Christmas Homecoming, I urge you to find me on Facebook, where I frequently post fascinating pieces of social history that I find while researching. Do you like reading historical westerns, and like hanging out with others who do too? Join us on the Pioneer Hearts Facebook page, where we have the most wonderful discussions, contests, and updates about new books!

  You might also want to check out the Everland Ever After books, which are a series of re-imagined fairy tales set in the Old West. If you’d like to keep up with my stories, or read deleted scenes, or receive exclusive free books, sign up for my newsletter.

  Reviews help other readers find books they’ll love!

  All feedback is read and appreciated.

  Rose Red

  An Everland Ever After tale, #7

  About this book

  Book #7 in the Everland Ever After series of reimagined fairy tales set in the Old West!

  A wounded bear is more than he seems... even during an Everland Christmas!

  Shy Rose dreams of wild adventures-- gunfights and moonlit chase scenes--and the day when she can sell her novels to make enough to support her family. But her writing reflects her lack of experience, and she's determined to find a way to learn about the grittier side of life. So when a wounded outlaw shows up in her barn two weeks before Christmas, the opportunity is too good to pass up. While she nurses him, Rose can learn from his escapades... but how long will she remain unaffected by his dangerous good looks?

  US Marshall Barrett "Bear" Faulker might look like a dangerous bandit, but he can't give away his real identity until he knows that the gang who attacked him is behind bars. He needs to keep his distance from his beautiful young savior, but her winning smile and her probing questions about his life and missions makes him defenseless against her charms. And when the gang decides that Everland's Christmas celebrations are an easy target, Bear realizes that he'll do just about anything to save the woman he's come to love.

  For you.

  For being excited to read each new Everland tale.

  Merry Christmas, dear reader,

  and best wishes for a very happy new year!

  Chapter 1

  December, 1876

  “Rose White! You’d better not be in there scribbling!”

  Rose slammed the journal closed on top of her pencil, and scrambled to hide it under the stacks of household bills and receipts she was supposed to be in the parlor categorizing. “No, Mama!” Her mother’s deceptively light footfalls sounded out in the hall, so Rose busied herself laying out the lists of last month’s sales and pretending like she’d been studying them for the last hour.

  Mama swept into the parlor, graceful and overbearing as always, in her second-best gown and winter hat. She managed to look perfect even as she collapsed—carefully—onto the settee and began to pull off her gloves. “December is utterly exhausting, isn’t it, my dear?”

  Rose knew that her mother wasn’t actually expecting an answer, and thus didn’t bother responding. Good thing, too, because Mama continued. “The Ladies’ Club meeting went well. Mrs. Bellini was right to start it, and right to make me the Chair.” A long-suffering sigh, and Rose wondered if her mother had been too “exhausted” to hang up her winter cloak, or if it was currently dripping melted snow into a puddle in the foyer for Rose or her sister to clean. “Although I’m not sure how she managed it, now that she’s married to that cripple.”

  “Signore Bellini isn’t crippled, Mama.” He was blind, certainly, but he made the most beautiful music.

  But she should’ve known better than to interrupt her mother. Mama’s expression rarely wavered from the pinched-lip disapproval she usually wore, even though she was very self-conscious of gaining lines around her eyes and mouth. “Rose!” Her gasp would’ve been comical, if it didn’t forewarn some insulting comment that would wound as deep as any barb could. “Are you hunched over those books? Do sit up!” Rose didn’t think she could straighten any more, but she tried. “How utterly embarrassing for me, to be saddled with a daughter who not only refuses to learn proper decorum, but who writes. If you would learn to be more of a lady, as I’ve tried again and again to instruct you…”

  Mama trailed off with a sigh, and Rose dared to hope that was the end of it. But no. “The ladies all asked after you, you know. Wondered why you weren’t attending.” Because I have no wish to spend the afternoon being told I’m inadequate. “I had to make excuses for you again, of course. I hate it when you put me in such a dreadful position.” Rose hadn’t gone, but she hadn’t been invited, either. And that suited her just fine. Her mother didn’t want her or Snow there, and they were happy for the weekly break from Mama’s often-difficult company.

  To distract the older woman from her own inadequacies, Rose tried to steer the conversation back to the meeting. “Did you make any good plans for the Christmas Festival?”

  “Yes.” Mama was frowning, though, eyeing Rose’s dress. “It will be on the twenty-fourth, as always. They requested Snow be in charge of decorating again, and I will of course be overseeing the preparations. You don’t have a job.”

  “I’ll be happy to help where I can.” Everland’s Christmas Festival was the town’s most special celebration all year; like a grander version of the weekly church socials, with a bonfire and fireworks and all sorts of beautiful songs and delicious roast foods. “It’s my favorite time of the year.”

  “I suppose I could allow you to come to next week’s planning meeting, if you could manage to find a gown that doesn’t look like you’ve been rolling in the mud. Really, Rose, if your father could see you…” Mama’s disappointed tone trailed off, and Rose tried not to be hurt.

  Instead, she smoothed a hand over her serviceable skirt, and tried to straighten her shoulders, the way her mother always nagged her to do. “Papa’s inexperience is the reason that we’re—”

  “Don’t you dare talk so disrespectfully about your father!”

  Rose winced at the bite in Mama’s voice, and turned back to the ledgers and papers on the desk. Her hands shook as she pretended to fuss with them, not wanting her mother to see how close to tears she already was. Mama was rarely satisfied with her work, or her appearance, or her contributions, or even her thoughts. Rose had long ago vowed not to let her mother know what sorts of things she wrote in her journals, sure that the older woman would not just disapprove, but forbid her from engaging in anything so unladylike.

  No, Mama wanted Rose—and Snow, if possible—to be a perfect, boring lady.

  Unfortunately, neither of them could afford to be, and still keep a roof over their heads. Papa’s poor investments and mistaken belief that the force of his will alone could command respect out here in Wyoming had landed them in their current
pickle. Rose and Snow worked—often behind Mama’s back—to make sure his widow could continue to live life as lavishly as she had back in Alabama.

  For now, though, Rose had to repair the damage she’d caused her mother’s nerves. If she didn’t, many years of practice told her that Mama would pout and sulk and be harsher than usual in her critiques. “I’m sorry, Mama. I know that you must be tired. Why don’t you go rest? Snow bartered for some of Briar Jorgensen’s chocolates that you like so much, and I’m sure that she could bring them up to you.”

  The older woman’s brown eyes narrowed, and her lip pursed. Finally, after a long moment of studying Rose, she nodded and stood, her manner brisk and her gloves slapping against her opposite hand. She didn’t look at all exhausted any more, but Rose knew better than to question. “Snow isn’t totally useless at times, I suppose.” Rose managed not to wince. The only time Mama wasn’t horrible to Rose’s older half-sister was when she was irritated at Rose. “It was miraculous that she could remember my tastes. I confess that I’m quite enamored with Miss Jorgensen’s treats, even if I think that she’s preparing to marry far below her rank. Imagine, marrying a common servant like Gordon MacKinnon!” Rose greatly admired Briar and Gordon’s romance, and how thrilled they both were to be working together to fulfill their dreams, but pressed her lips together tightly to hold in the retort. Mama must’ve realized she wasn’t going to get the argument she wanted, and sniffed. “Very well. You may send Snow up with some chocolate and tea. That would be acceptable.”