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

by Caroline Lee

  “How did you see us?”

  “I have my ways! I saw you, hussy, walking with a man who doesn’t belong to you. Will never belong to you!”

  Snow’s chin snapped up, and her eyes narrowed. “Hunter is a good man, no matter what you think of him. We—we care for one another!” It was too-simple a way to describe her feelings for him, but it was all she was willing to share with this hateful witch.

  But Lucinda scoffed, a high-pitched, manic laugh bursting from her lips. Then, quick as a blink, her hand struck out again, catching Snow across her cheek. There wasn’t much power behind the blow, but Snow’s head snapped back nonetheless from the sheer speed.

  A bit dazed, Snow forced herself to move. She wasn’t going to be trapped between her stepmother and the hearth, which had just claimed her Christmas gift. No, she sidled left, moving toward the foyer door, opposite the kitchen.

  Unfortunately, Lucinda wasn’t so crazed she didn’t pivot to follow with her hateful glare. “I don’t care for your feelings, wretched girl! I care for his! I could see his noble bearing, his fine upbringing! He’s not for the likes of you! He deserves better.”

  Snow halted, her cheek throbbing and her brows high.

  Lucinda was objecting, because she didn’t think Snow was good enough for Hunter? Did the woman think her opinion really mattered?

  Unable to help herself, a chuckle escaped Snow’s lips, and when she saw Lucinda’s brows lower in anger, another followed.

  “Foolish girl!” Lucinda screamed, pointing one long, bloody finger at her. “You are not worthy of him! Your skin—”

  “I’m sorry, stepmother,” Snow managed in between chuckles, “But do you honestly think Hunter, or I, care about your judgment? Our future belongs to ourselves, and your beliefs, as cruel and ignorant as they are, have no place among decent people.”

  “Ignorant? I’ve been trying to help you, you stupid wretch!” The older woman snarled as she stepped toward Snow, who held her ground. “And this is how you repay me?”

  “You are ignorant, to think the color of my skin reflects my worth—”

  And maybe she would’ve continued, but at that moment, Lucinda reached behind her back and whipped out a small revolver, and Snow’s mouth snapped shut.

  “Listen, you ignorant girl,” her stepmother hissed, as she stalked toward Snow, who scrambled backward. “I’ve tried to help you! My potions were to help you, to lighten your skin, so you could attract a fine and worthy man like that one!”

  When she waved the gun in a wild gesture, Snow instinctively ducked, hoping her stepmother wouldn’t accidentally pull the trigger while she ranted.

  “But you’ve been ignoring my orders, haven’t you? Oh, I see the level of the lotions in your room decreasing, but clearly you haven’t been using them!” Absentmindedly, Lucinda scratched at the bloody sores on the forearm of the arm holding the gun. “If you had been using them, your skin would be as fair as mine is!” Her cackle was more than a little ominous. “You’re making me look bad!”

  “ ‘Making you look bad?’ ” Snow muttered as she hunched over and tried to sidle for the door.

  Was it possible the fumes from the woman’s concoctions had somehow addled her brain even further?

  “Yes! Yes!” Lucinda screeched, lifting the gun. “I’m a businesswoman, girl!”

  And as quickly as her mania came on, it faded. Lucinda’s eyes were still a bit wild, but her breathing slowed as she cocked the revolver and pointed it at Snow’s chest.

  The younger woman swallowed, knowing as scary as the witch-y Lucinda had been, this was far worse.

  Her stepmother’s smile was cruel. when she said, “If you, who is living under my own roof, is seen without skin as white as snow, no one will believe my products work, my dear.”

  Perhaps a little lie wouldn’t have been too terrible? “I’m sure they do, Stepmother. Maybe I just need to use them for longer.”

  “No, no. They would’ve worked by now, if you were using them. You missed your opportunity.”

  “Opportunity?”

  Lucinda clucked. “For living under my roof.”

  Her roof?

  Her husband had built the house, true, but it had been Snow who’d kept them all fed and clothed for so long—

  And then the woman’s emphasis caught up with Snow’s brain.

  She means to kill me?

  Her mouth dropped open. “Stepmother. We’ve lived together for years. Surely you don’t expect me to believe you would kill me just so everyone thinks your potions really work?” After all, surely someone would notice Snow’s absence.

  Hunter would. She held tight to that thought.

  But the gun never wavered. “I gave you the chance to join me, Snow. Skin as white as snow, I did that for you, you know. That’s why I named you Snow.”

  “You named me Snow because of my hair.” She was inching toward the door, a little disconcerted by how steadily the barrel of the gun followed her.

  But Lucinda just smiled, empty and evil. “You could’ve had such potential, girl.”

  Potential?

  It was one thing to have her life threatened, but it was another thing entirely to be insulted. Snow straightened her shoulders and raised her chin.

  “It must gall you to realize Hunter is attracted to me despite the taint of my skin, Stepmother.”

  The woman’s eyes narrowed, and a part of Snow recognized the danger in pushing a madwoman too far. But after being declared unworthy, she couldn’t bite her tongue any further. She jabbed her finger at her stepmother.

  “Why would I want to look like you? I’m not your daughter, Lucinda. We have nothing in common, especially blood.”

  To her horror, the gun began to shake, but Snow refused to sidle for the door. Lucinda’s calm was slowly deteriorating, her cheeks becoming blotchy with fury.

  “I shared blood with Rose, and look where that got me! She was the beautiful one, the one who should’ve carried on Reginald’s legacy! My legacy! And look what she did to me! Abandonment!”

  Snow was shaking her head, determined to stick up for the one person who’d always protected her. “Your legacy is hatred. You never appreciated Rose when she was here!”

  “At least she had lovely skin,” Lucinda screeched, the gun barrel wavering so much now, Snow actually ducked a bit, wondering if that would help.

  But still, she wasn’t going to remain silent. “Yes, Rose has lovely skin, and so do I. I’m my mother’s daughter, and I’m proud of it!”

  With a wordless shriek, Lucinda pulled the trigger.

  In the small parlor, the report was terrifying, but not nearly as terrifying as that split-second when Snow braced for a bullet to slam into her.

  When the lamp behind her shattered—thank the good Lord the gun hadn’t been steady!—Snow didn’t even bother to suck in a thankful breath. No, she turned, lowered her shoulder, and slammed the door open.

  Behind her, the revolver spat again, and Snow swore she felt something whiz past her. She didn’t turn to look, but instead, lifted her skirts up around her knees and sprinted for the front door.

  She was on the porch when she heard her stepmother curse behind her, and she prayed for the gun to jam, or some other miracle. Snow leapt off the steps, landing calf-deep in what had been the cleared front walk only yesterday morning.

  She kept her knees high, and her skirts higher, as she ran as best as she could for the rise in the distance. Behind her, the gun fired again, but Snow kept her attention—and her hopes—on the town.

  Dimly, she realized her stepmother—the woman she’d never cared for, but whom she’d lived with for years—was actively trying to murder her, over something as silly as what she looked like!

  Panting, she reached the outskirts of town, but didn’t pause. Couldn’t pause. Her fear was too strong, her heart pounding too hard, to stop.

  Hunter!

  Hunter would save her! She had to get to him!

  But he was in church on the other
side of town, surely!

  Her steps faltered.

  No!

  A better, closer, idea slammed into her.

  The boardinghouse! She’d be safe there! She’d be safe with those seven strange women with the odd names, in the house no one could see.

  Surely Lucinda wouldn’t think to look there? Wouldn’t be able to find Snow there?

  She changed direction, her breaths coming in great heaving sobs, knowing she had to make it to safety, before Lucinda arrived with her gun.

  And she knew Hunter would be able to find her there.

  Chapter 8

  Christmas service was the most joyful one of the year for Hunter, after Easter morning. Easter was all about rebirth and redemption, but Christmas was hope and faith and new beginnings. It was special.

  Would’ve been more special with Snow here.

  Throughout the service, he’d kept glancing toward the door, hoping she’d come in, even if it was with her hateful stepmother. Everland—and its church—weren’t that big, so he’d determined she wasn’t there within the first two minutes of his sermon.

  And by halfway through, he’d determined she wasn’t coming. But that didn’t stop him from hoping. That was the point of Christmas, after all.

  Now, as he stood in the rear of the church and shook hands as he was introduced to all the townspeople who had attended his services, his mind was on Snow, and what she was doing right now.

  He had to hold onto the hope he’d see her at dinner.

  Soon.

  He had another gift for her after all.

  In a momentary lull, a stately dark-haired woman approached, a regal smile on her lips. He’d met her yesterday.

  Penelope…? Zapato, wasn’t it?

  He nodded. “Mrs. Zapato, happy Christmas!”

  “Happy Christmas, Reverend.” She grasped his hand in both of hers and shook it warmly. “Your sermon about hope for the future was so uplifting, and we all enjoyed it.” She dropped his hand, but shifted so she could look toward the large family in the corner. “Micah and I particularly liked how you tied the Christ-child’s birth to new beginnings and hope. Babies are such miracles, aren’t they?”

  The group in the corner belonged to her—or rather, the orphanage, which was run by her and her husband, as Hunter understood it. Micah Zapato was holding two little ones, a baby and a toddler, while his sister—whose name Hunter couldn’t recall—knelt to wrap two identical girls in matching mufflers.

  Hunter found himself chuckling at the chaos. “They are miracles, and one day I’d love to have a few of my own.”

  One day?

  There was no hope about it. To his complete surprise, he’d found the woman he wanted to marry, to have his children, almost as soon as he’d stepped foot in Everland.

  Penelope was nodding. “Rojita—that’s my sister-in-law, the one who’s kneeling—said the same thing, until she actually had one.” She pointed toward the younger of the two children Micah was juggling. “But little Jesse is enough of a handful, she and Sheriff Cutter have decided to wait a few more years for another one. Besides, it’s not like we don’t have enough children to go around!”

  At that moment, the youngest boy—he had to be around six—fell off the pew and into the arms of an older, stately man, who spoke sternly to the lad.

  Both Penelope and Hunter were chuckling when she turned back to him. “I need to go rescue Mr. Prince, my father-in-law. Blue has likely eaten something sticky, or found a small animal—against all odds—and hidden it in his pocket. But”—she offered another smile—“I needed to tell you that everything’s arranged for tonight’s celebration. The Ladies’ Club agreed it was smarter to postpone the annual Christmas Eve celebration until this evening, on account of the snow. So we’ll all be gathering this evening after our family meals. I do hope you’ll be attending?”

  Hunter nodded politely, his mind half on his upcoming meal with Snow. “I wouldn’t miss it, Mrs. Zapato.”

  She hurried over to her family with a cheerful wave, but Hunter didn’t return it. He was too busy thinking about Christmas dinner and what could possibly be detaining Snow.

  Was it the weather? Could she just not make it into town? Had her stepmother somehow found out about their kiss and forbade Snow from seeing Hunter?

  Would Snow abide by the rules of a woman she considered mad?

  Hunter’s lips tugged downward as he shoved his hands in the pockets of his finest suit, the one he saved for preaching, and his gaze moved toward the window.

  Was she at home right now? Or had she already gone to the odd little boardinghouse with the apple trees?

  After the things Vincenzo and Jack had said last night, Hunter had wanted to ask his landladies what they’d meant. But it had been so strange—had Jack hinted Doc and the others were godmothers? Whose?—and Hunter hadn’t been able to bring it up.

  Last night’s sermon had been brief, since the snow was continuing, and afterward, he’d thanked Vincenzo for the beautiful music and ushered everyone out of the church. They were all townsfolk, and had a short trip to their homes, so he’d tucked his chin to his chest, shoved his gloved hands in his armpits, and hurried to the boardinghouse. Once there, he was prepared to question Doc, but he only found Helga and Bashful, sharing a bottle of wine in the kitchen, while they baked a haunch of ham, and he couldn’t interrupt that, now could he?

  By the time the cheerful little supper was over, Hunter had felt like family, and was more certain than ever this wasn’t a boardinghouse at all. But he couldn’t complain, and went to sleep with a full belly and an even fuller heart.

  And now it was Christmas, and he was only a few hours away from seeing Snow again!

  Possibly kissing her…definitely holding her. And if everything went well, he had a special gift for her. It was preposterous to consider giving it to her so soon after meeting, but he couldn’t deny what he was feeling was the truth.

  “Reverend, no frowning allowed on Christmas!”

  The cheerful greeting had him jerking his head up to find Arabella Bellini stepping up beside him.

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Bellini.” He shook his head ruefully. “I hadn’t intended to frown. I was just thinking of…”

  “Of Christmas gifts?” she asked, a sparkle in her eye. Then she held out a small silk pouch. “Perhaps thinking of a certain person you wanted to give this to?”

  Relief had Hunter’s shoulders relaxing as he blew out a breath and reached for the pouch. “You really don’t mind? You and Vincenzo?” It was heavy in his hand, appropriately so.

  “We would be honored. There’s no jeweler in Everland, and many couples make do with less precious rings, or have to wait to order them. But frankly, Vincenzo and I have more money than Eddie needs, and we’re just putting it aside for his schooling now.”

  She chuckled and waved her hand. “I’m blathering, sorry. I just mean…” One of her shoulders lifted in a shrug. “Vincenzo has bought me more jewelry than I could possibly wear, and that one, well, it doesn’t hold any special meaning for me.”

  Hunter pried open the silk pouch and reverently tipped the small gold ring out into his palm. “But it could to me,” he finished in a whisper.

  “Exactly.”

  When he looked up and met her eyes, he saw nothing but happiness for him there. Still, he had to ask.

  “Are you sure? We only just met, and I know I’m new to town—”

  She stopped him with a hand on his sleeve. “You’re here in Everland for at least a year, and you want to start a life with one of our ladies. I have my suspicions who, but I’ll let you surprise us.” She patted him. “That’s good enough for us. Consider it your first quarter’s payment from us.”

  “But the town should be the one—”

  Arabella waved her hand dismissively. “Then consider it a bonus. Oh! Here comes Briar.”

  It was an obvious attempt to divert the conversation from her generosity, so Hunter slipped the ring back into the pouch, pocke
ted it, and turned his attention to the plump young woman with the smear of flour on her cheek.

  “Arabella! Gordon and I will be a little later than planned. I had to re-do the pie crust, because it wasn’t up to my standards, so—”

  “Yes, dear, I can see,” Arabella said gently, wiping away the flour on the young woman’s cheek. “And we’ll be happy to wait for you. Eddie is far more interested in the gifts under the tree, after all.”

  The other woman grabbed Arabella’s hand and grinned hugely. “I’m so glad we decided to close the restaurant for the day. Honestly, I think Gordon’s most looking forward to just sitting with Vincenzo for a while. He won’t admit it, but he misses their closeness.”

  Arabella smiled softly. “I know Vincenzo misses that too. Christmas is the time to be with family, and I’m so pleased you’re part of ours.”

  She turned to Hunter to include him. “Reverend Woods, this is Briar Rose MacKinnon.”

  The younger woman lunged for Hunter’s hand, shaking it enthusiastically. “We’re so pleased you’re here, Reverend! We loved Pastor Tuck of course, but today’s sermon was so inspiring. Thank you!”

  He grinned at her enthusiasm. “Thank you. And am I to understand you’re the Mrs. MacKinnon behind the spectacular desserts at the restaurant? Snow and I both enjoyed your apple pie and apple crumble.”

  “Snow, hmm?” Arabella murmured, but Briar just bobbed her head.

  “She always orders my apple pie and my meat pie, which is how I knew it was her. I’m so glad you enjoyed it! I always think it’s odd when someone doesn’t. Not to be rude, but who doesn’t like pie?” She giggled as she rubbed her stomach.

  “I can’t imagine anyone wouldn’t enjoy your baking, Mrs. MacKinnon.”

  “Please call me Briar! And I’ll tell you who doesn’t.” She leaned in and winked conspiratorially. “Mabel Miller, if you can believe it.”

  Arabella snorted softly. “I can.”

  Briar was nodding. “I don’t mean to spread gossip, Reverend. That’s really more of Zosia’s hobby.”

  She smiled again, to show she wasn’t serious, and Hunter’s thoughts snapped to Snow.