A Western Christmas: Yuletide Lawman / Yuletide Reunion
Most days, his job was boring, exactly the way he liked it. He’d had enough chaos for one lifetime, first from his unpredictable childhood and then from his volatile marriage.
“Want me to take the ride through town this morning?” Prescott asked, referring to their daily routine check-in with the local businesses.
“I’ll do it.” Caleb had already performed an initial inspection of the outlying ranches before coming in to work. Once he rode through town and spoke with the shopkeepers individually, he’d take Gideon to the livery for a much needed brushing and rest. “You can go on home, Pres.”
“Don’t have to tell me twice.” The deputy drained his coffee then set down his empty cup next to the stove.
With more enthusiasm than usual, he shoved his arms in his coat then jammed his hat on his head. Instead of heading out, he paused at the doorway. “Hey, Sheriff, got a question I’ve been meaning to ask you for a while now.”
That sounded ominous. “Okay, shoot.”
“Just how well do you know Ellie Wainwright?” A speculative gleam shone in the deputy’s eyes. “Well enough, say, to make an introduction?”
Caleb’s blood ran cold at the obvious masculine interest in the question. Prescott was nothing if not predictable. In truth, Caleb wasn’t all that surprised by the deputy’s inquiry, only that it had taken the man an entire two weeks to ferret out information about Ellie Wainwright.
Still.
“Don’t go getting any ideas.” A burst of temper spiked his tone to a near guttural growl. “Ellie’s off-limits.”
The warning only seemed to stir the man’s interest further. “Why? Somebody already courting her?”
Not if Caleb had anything to say about it. “She’s not available for an introduction and that’s the end of it.”
“You sure about that?” Prescott scratched a hand across his jaw, his eyes taking on a thoughtful light. “I haven’t seen her with any man since she came home.”
True. Nevertheless...
Caleb wasn’t introducing Ellie to Prescott. Or, for that matter, any other unmarried man in town.
He told himself he was acting on Everett’s behalf. He owed it to his friend to keep an eye on the man’s little sister while he was in prison. This wasn’t personal. It was simply the right thing to do.
Keep telling yourself that, cowboy.
“You can’t meet Ellie.”
“Why not?”
Caleb ground his teeth together so hard his jaw ached. “She’s a churchgoing woman with a strong set of Christian values and impeccable integrity.”
Prescott’s eyes narrowed to tiny slits. “You implying I’m not good enough for her?”
That about covered it. “No one’s good enough for Ellie.”
Now Prescott smiled, a big toothy grin that set Caleb’s teeth on edge. Clearly he wasn’t getting through to the hardheaded deputy.
He changed tactics. “She’s too young for you.”
Which, to be fair, sounded as irrational in his head as it did out loud, especially since Ellie and Prescott were the same age, give or take a few months.
“Ah, I get it.” The other man let out a low, amused whistle. “You got your eye on the preacher’s daughter.”
“I don’t have my eye on Ellie.” That would be wrong on so many levels.
Although...
Now that Caleb worked the idea around in his head...
Ellie was sweet and warm, caring, and excellent with children. She was the kind of woman a man made promises to, the kind of woman a man cherished and—
He cut off the rest of his thoughts.
Even if Ellie wasn’t Everett’s little sister, she deserved far more than Caleb had to offer a woman.
Yes, he needed a wife. And, yes, Ellie was available, or so he assumed, but approaching her with the idea of marriage seemed inappropriate because of his history with her family.
Best to look elsewhere for his future bride, or at least wait a little longer for Mrs. Jenson to find her for him.
As if to contradict his decision, an image of his daughters crystallized in his mind. They deserved a good, loving mother, a sweet and warm, caring woman who would provide them with a calm, stable home life.
With few available women left in town that he hadn’t already approached, and less than a month before Christmas, Caleb was getting desperate to find the twins a mother. So desperate, in fact, that he’d even agreed to let Mrs. Jenson contact potential mail-order brides from other parts of the country.
Now, he wondered if he’d been too hasty with his acquiescence on the matter. Perhaps his future wife was closer to home. Perhaps she was already in Thunder Ridge.
Perhaps she was right across the street.
* * *
Ellie reentered Kate’s shop with a pounding heart and an annoying case of trepidation. Considering her rapid exit, and her subsequent conversation with Caleb out in plain sight, her friend would surely want to know what they’d said to each other. And why she’d approached him this morning, instead of waiting until after her meeting with Kate.
How was Ellie supposed to explain something she didn’t fully understand herself?
Her discussion with Caleb had been brief, not much more than a question asked and an answer given. Yet, because of the long looks and inexplicable tension between them, Ellie wasn’t sure what to think.
What came next?
Mulling over the question, she stood just inside the store’s threshold, unable to move deeper into the room because she needed every scrap of energy to process the past few minutes she’d spent in Caleb’s company.
Kate’s eyebrows lifted in silent question, clearly waiting for an explanation.
Ellie pretended not to notice.
“Fine.” Kate held up in her hands in a show of mock surrender. “I won’t ask. Never let it be said that Kate Riley doesn’t know how to mind her own business.”
Ellie felt her mouth drop open. “Since when?”
“Ha-ha.” Her friend sniffed in feminine outrage. “I’ll have you know, you’re looking at the new and improved version of me. I no longer stick my nose where it doesn’t belong.”
“Uh-huh,” Ellie hummed in response.
“Now that you’re back inside,” Kate continued as if she hadn’t responded, “shall we get started?”
“Absolutely.” Taking several steps forward, Ellie dug inside the medium-sized reticule hanging from her wrist and pulled out the script for the Christmas play her father had insisted she direct this year.
She figured he’d assigned her the task with the express purpose of giving her something to do with her days, and to keep her mind off her troubles. As he was so often fond of saying, “Nothing helps redirect our gloomy thoughts better than focusing on others.”
It was good advice that Ellie intended to act upon from this point forward. No more feeling sorry for herself. No more wondering what might have been. “I have some initial ideas for the costumes.”
“As do I.”
A jolt of fear moved through her. With just over three weeks until Christmas, Ellie wasn’t sure she could pull off the production to her father’s satisfaction. Or her own.
Lowering her head, she exhaled a small, soulful sigh of remorse. “Last night’s rehearsal was a complete disaster.”
“Don’t you think you’re being a bit dramatic?” A pair of smart-looking, female, lace-up boots moved directly into her line of vision. “It’s a children’s play, Ellie, one you’ve directed many times in the past.”
Well, yes.
But that had been years ago, before she’d left for the teaching job in Colorado Springs.
Releasing another sigh, Ellie lifted her head. “Oh, Kate, I have exactly twenty-three days to put together a Christmas production that will make Thunder Ridge proud and I’m already off to a miserable start.”
“I was there last night. It wasn’t that horrible.”
Were they talking about the same event? “The children ignored me completely.”
One well-defined black eyebrow shot up in obvious skepticism.
Point taken. “All right, they didn’t ignore me completely.”
It had only felt that way.
Her inability to command a room full of rambunctious boys and girls was disturbingly new. Ellie used to be good with children, a requirement of any schoolteacher. But her confidence had vanished ever since she’d lost her job, which had been right after Monroe had withdrawn his marriage proposal because Ellie had told him about her brother’s incarceration.
“What if I lose control again tonight?” There. She’d voiced her fear aloud.
Instead of gaining sympathy, the comment seemed to make her friend’s smile widen. “Weren’t you the one who once told me first rehearsals are always disasters?”
“I’m pretty sure I never said any such thing.” This year.
Kate laughed. “Well, no matter what happens Christmas Eve, at least you can comfort yourself in the knowledge that the costumes will be spectacular.”
Her friend punctuated the remark with a wink.
Finally, Ellie smiled, as well. Kate was her assistant, her costume designer and the reason for this early morning visit to the dress shop her friend had inherited from her grandmother.
“Ellie.” Kate took her hands. “You aren’t alone in this. I’m right in the middle of the muddled fray with you.”
It was exactly what she needed to hear.
“You and me,” Kate said, winking again, “working side by side on the play, why, it’ll be just like old times.”
Just like old times.
Nearly the same words she’d spoken to Caleb moments earlier. They’d seemed appropriate at the time, but now Ellie felt foolish having uttered them.
Things could never be as they once were; too much time had passed. But maybe, just maybe, that wasn’t such a bad thing.
Chapter Three
Later that afternoon, just as Ellie feared, play practice turned into an unruly mess. She willed back the tears that would have formed in her eyes had she given them a chance.
Not that any of the children would notice if she gave into her silent despair. At the moment, they were engaged in a rousing game of tag, weaving in and out of the pews, laughing and chattering so loudly Ellie could hardly think over the ruckus.
The only children paying her any attention were Caleb’s beautiful five-year-old twins. Hannah and Grace Voss were fast capturing Ellie’s heart as they followed her around the interior of the church like two little miniature shadows. They’d stuck close to her ever since their housekeeper had dropped them off fifteen minutes ago.
Ellie smiled down at the girls, taking in their identical sweet, tiny features, light brown hair and big green eyes the same color as their father’s. They each looked up at her expectantly, clearly waiting for her to tell them what to do.
Two down, she told herself firmly, only thirteen to go.
“When are we going to get started?” Hannah asked.
“Soon,” Ellie replied. “So stay close to me.”
“Okay,” the girls said in unison.
Smiling, Ellie put a hand on each of their shoulders and pulled them near.
High-pitched squeals rent the air. The game had heated up, boys against girls. Someone was going to end up hurt.
Enough. “Everyone, please, settle down.”
Her request was promptly ignored.
For a woman who’d spent almost two years in a schoolroom of twenty-five boys and girls—ages six to fifteen—Ellie was supposed to be an expert at maintaining control in the midst of chaos. Well, of course she was an expert.
With the Voss twins following hard on her heels, she moved to the front of the church and did what she was trained to do.
She took control.
“Boys and girls.” She clapped her hands once, twice, three times. “Everyone gather around. It’s time to get started.”
When they continued to ignore her, she whistled, loudly, a technique she’d mastered in her first months in the classroom.
Half of the unruly children abruptly froze. Ellie repeated her request. They obeyed, probably because they’d grown bored with chasing one another.
With quick, concise words, she directed the group to sit on the floor at her feet then repeated her previous order, raising her voice to be heard over the boisterous laughter.
Another five children joined the others at the front of the church. Three mutineers remained, two boys and a girl, all of similar ages, somewhere between nine and eleven. They continued chasing one another around the perimeter of the room. Ellie bodily inserted herself in the middle of their game, forcing them to either stop or ram straight into her.
They stopped.
Wide-eyed and shifting from foot to foot, they seemed unsure what to expect from her. She took advantage of their uncertainty. “Now that I have your attention, please join the rest of us.”
Her tone brooked no argument.
The three dutifully complied. “Yes, Miss Ellie.”
The moment she returned to her spot at the front of the church, the various whispered conversations drew to a halt.
Ellie quickly organized the children into two groups, the older ones with speaking parts and the younger ones who would sing three separate songs during the play.
Kate chose that moment to rush into the building. “What did I miss?”
Ellie smiled at her friend’s flushed face and somewhat wild hair. “Nothing much, we’re only just getting started.”
“Wonderful.” With a pointed, I-told-you-so grin, her friend swept her gaze over the children. “I see you have everything under control.”
Ignoring Kate’s smug tone, Ellie put her to work. “If you could run through the play with the older children, I’ll teach the little ones the first song they’ll be singing.”
“Sounds good to me.” Script in hand, Kate collected her charges and escorted them to the back of the church.
Ellie settled on the floor between Hannah and Grace Voss. The twins sat on either side of her, so close they practically crawled into her lap.
As a teacher, Ellie wasn’t supposed to pick favorites; she knew this, knew the dangers of getting too close to any one child—or in this case two children. Yet she was already falling for the twins. She wondered if her fondness for them had something to do with her connection to their father.
Ellie shook her head at herself. Had she not learned her lesson in Colorado? Her affection for Monroe’s daughters had only led to heartache. Saying goodbye to them had been the hardest thing she’d ever done, maybe even harder than hearing Monroe retract his offer of marriage.
Yet, here she was, already growing attached to another widower’s young daughters. Not a wise move, considering their father was actively seeking a woman to marry solely to take on the role as their mother. Caleb wasn’t looking for love. And Ellie wasn’t looking to act solely as a mother to his or any man’s children. She wanted a real marriage and a family of her own.
Don’t get too close, she ordered, even as her arms wrapped around the girls’ shoulders.
Realizing what she’d done, Ellie quickly returned her hands to her lap and focused on the entire group of children. “Who wants to learn the first song we’ll be singing Christmas Eve?”
Seven tiny hands shot in the air.
She soon discovered that most of the boys and girls were familiar with the tune that accompanied the song “What Child Is This?” But they were shaky on the words. Repetition would be the key to their success, besides keeping to a single verse, maybe two if they learned the first one quickly.
She sang the first two lines then had the boys and girls repeat after her. “Well-done,” she praised. “Let’s try that again.”
On the second time through, she looked over at Kate with the other children. A quick headcount told her that one of the older boys had disappeared from the group. She was just about to alert her friend to the problem when Brody Driscoll reappeared, a mischievous grin on his face.
Ellie’s heart dipped. She’d seen that look on too many young faces not to recognize that trouble lay but a heartbeat away.
Proving her gloomy forecast accurate, a frightened female screech cut through the children’s singing, which was followed by several more shrieks—also female.
Ellie sighed as the girls, still screaming at the top of their lungs, scrambled away from Brody. They hopped up on the pews, dancing from foot to foot.
The older boys howled with collective laughter.
Kate, her face drained of color, eyes filled with panic, called for Ellie’s assistance. “Come quick!”
Ellie tried not to sigh again. But really, how disappointing. Everything had been going so well up till now.
“Stay here.” She quickly rose to her feet.
With a hand gesture, she indicated Kate join her in the middle of the church. “Tell me,” she whispered.
Kate hissed two monosyllabic, oh-so-troubling words. “Dead. Mouse.”
But of course.
At least Brody hadn’t brought in a live rodent. That would have brought a whole separate set of issues, namely chasing down the scurrying creature.
Stifling a grin—because, well, boys were after all boys—Ellie bypassed the screaming girls and shoved into the gang of laughing boys, who were taking turns slapping Brody on the back.
A quick glance to the floor and, sure enough, the dead mouse lay poised on its back, claws up, head lolled to one side.
Ellie disregarded the boys pressing in around her and focused solely on Brody Driscoll. He was a good-looking kid, probably about eleven or twelve years old, with dark, wavy hair and eyes nearly the same color.
He held her gaze almost defiantly, but Ellie saw the desperation beneath the bravado, as if he was determined to get a rise out of her and yet afraid he’d get exactly that.
Face blank, eyes still locked with the boy’s, she leaned over and picked up the mouse by the tail. “I believe this belongs to you?”
Brody’s earlier boldness faltered.
“I...” He glanced at his friends, all still snickering, then, emboldened once again, jerked his chin at her. “Maybe it’s mine and maybe it isn’t.”
More snickers from the other boys. She’d expected no less.
Just as Ellie opened her mouth to respond, a deep, masculine voice cut her off. “Outside, Mr. Driscoll. And bring your rat with you.”
Ellie spun around, her gaze connecting with Caleb’s. Except he was no longer the Caleb she knew. He was big bad Sheriff Voss, the dedicated lawman who kept order in Thunder Ridge. The man nobody challenged, especially not a mischievous boy at a children’s play rehearsal.
Ellie tried to gain Caleb’s attention, to let him know she had the situation under control, but his gaze was locked with Brody’s. “I said outside, now.”
Shoulders slumped, Brody took the mouse from Ellie’s fingers and headed toward the exit, Caleb one step behind.
No. Oh, no, no. Although sweet and certainly well-meaning, Ellie could not let Caleb rescue the situation. Yet she couldn’t question his authority in front of the children, either.
A quandary to be sure, but Ellie needed the children to know she was in charge.
She trotted after Caleb and Brody, caught up with them in the vestibule. “Cale—I mean, Sheriff Voss.” She gripped his sleeve. “A quick word, if you please.”
* * *
Caleb hesitated at the warmth that spread from Ellie’s fingers, past his coat and straight into his forearm. “Now? You want to speak to me, now?”
“Yes, Caleb. Now.”
Impatience surged. Whatever Ellie had to say couldn’t be more important than taking care of Brody’s willful disobedience.
“Please,” she pleaded in the soft, sweet voice that did strange things to his gut. “It’ll take only a moment.”
Frowning, he dropped his eyes to Ellie’s hand still curled around his arm, then raised a questioning eyebrow. “I’m in the middle of something pretty important here.”
“As am I.” She dropped her hand and favored Brody with a stern, no-nonsense glance.
“Sheriff Voss will meet you outside in a moment. I suggest you spend the time alone thinking about what you’ve done and, of course, taking care of that.” She looked pointedly at the mouse.
“Yes, Miss Ellie.” Mouse tail clamped between his thumb and forefinger, Brody headed for the door.
Caleb stopped him. “Stop right there. Don’t you have something to say to Miss Ellie?”
The boy sighed, his shoulders now drooping along with his head. “I’m sorry for disrupting play practice.”
“You’re forgiven,” she said, her tone full of the graciousness inherent in her character. “But don’t ever pull a stunt like that again. Are we clear?”
“No, ma’am. I mean...yes, ma’am.” Sighing heavily, Brody lifted a frustrated shoulder. “I mean, no, I won’t.”
She patted him fondly on the arm. “That’s all I ask.”
Brody smiled at her.
She smiled back. “Go on outside, now.”
“Yes, Miss Ellie.” The boy’s eyes were full of remorse as he exited the building.
Caleb had always known Ellie was a steady sort. Now he also knew she had a large store of patience. He attempted to follow her lead, though it called for great effort on his part. “I’m listening. What’s on your mind?”
“I appreciate your assistance with Brody, but you must understand. I had the situation under control.”
No argument there. “Yes, you did.”
When he’d walked into the church he’d watched her retrieve the mouse from the floor. I believe this belongs to you, she’d said without a hint of inflection in her voice, or fear in her eyes. Caleb nearly smiled at the memory. Despite Ellie’s diminutive stature, she was no delicate, fragile woman.
He liked that about her. “Your handling of the situation was quite impressive.”
A frown formed between her eyes. “Then why did you step in?”
“For Brody’s sake.”
Her frown deepened. “I don’t understand.”
“His mother is sick, Ellie. Dying actually. She may not make it to Christmas. He’s not been coping well with the prospect of losing her. This isn’t the first time he’s disrupted a gathering.”
“Oh, Caleb. I didn’t know, didn’t realize.” Ellie drew in a tight breath, her gaze filling with understanding. “That certainly explains his behavior this afternoon.”
In a word. “Yes.”
“Under the circumstances, you’re the best person to talk to him.”
He nodded, forever grateful Ellie knew his past. He didn’t have to go into detail about how his own mother had died around this same time of year when he’d been nearly Brody’s exact age. Caleb only wished Ellie wouldn’t look at him with sad memories in her eyes. He didn’t want her sympathy for himself, but for Brody. He turned to go.
“Don’t be too hard on the boy,” she called after him.
“Only what the situation requires.” He found Brody waiting for him on the front steps of the church, his foot digging into a pile of freshly fallen snow mixed with mud.
“What were you thinking?” he asked the boy in a stern tone. “You know better than to bring a dead mouse into the church.”
The boy looked him straight in the eyes. Tears shimmered in his gaze, but he heroically swallowed them. “I’m sorry.”
Caleb didn’t doubt Brody’s sincerity, but he suspected the sorrow in the boy’s eyes had little to do with the mouse incident. “How’s your mother feeling?”
“Not good. She’s so weak and can hardly get out of bed anymore. I hate seeing her suffer.”
“I didn’t realize her illness had progressed that much since I stopped by last week.”
Why hadn’t Betsy told him? His housekeeper had ample opportunity and would surely know Caleb would understand if she needed to spend more time with her dying sister.
“It’s not fair,” Brody said, battling tears. “Christmas is Mama’s favorite holiday.”
Caleb’s throat seized. He understood the kid’s pain, felt it deep in his own soul. He had to blink several times to keep memories of another Christmas at bay, his mother’s last. “I’m sorry to hear she’s growing worse.”
The boy kicked at the snow, sending white puffs circling around his foot. “Aunt Betsy is sitting with her now, reading to her.”