Western Christmas Brides: A Bride and Baby for Christmas / Miss Christina's Christmas Wish / A Kiss from the Cowboy
Three heartwarming stories of Christmas in the Wild West.
A Bride and Baby for Christmas by Lauri Robinson
Pregnant Hannah Olsen has made a list of Oak Grove’s eligible men. A list that Teddy White sees—and he’s not on it! Time for him to act so that both their Christmas wishes can come true.
Miss Christina’s Christmas Wish by Lynna Banning
Dedicated new teacher Christina Marnell feels her heart race as she watches Ivan Panovsky chop wood for the school. She had ruled marriage out, but Christmas is a time when miracles can happen...
A Kiss from the Cowboy by Carol Arens
Kitson James and Livy York both have secrets, but can their love overcome the lies they’ve told? A Christmas kiss might help...
Praise for the authors of
Western Christmas Brides
LAURI ROBINSON
‘Robinson’s talent for period detail shines.’
—RT Book Reviews on Her Cheyenne Warrior
LYNNA BANNING
‘Lynna Banning has penned a delightful and passionate western.’
—RT Book Reviews on Her Sheriff Bodyguard
CAROL ARENS
‘Arens’ newest romp is filled with characters we can’t help but root for.’
—RT Book Reviews on Wed to the Montana Cowboy
A lover of fairy tales and cowboy boots, LAURI ROBINSON can’t imagine a better profession than penning happily-ever-after stories about men—and women—who pull on a pair of boots before riding off into the sunset...or kick them off for other reasons. Lauri and her husband raised three sons in their rural Minnesota home, and are now getting their just rewards by spoiling their grandchildren. Visit: laurirobinson.blogspot.com, Facebook.com/lauri.robinson1 or Twitter.com/laurir.
LYNNA BANNING combines a lifelong love of history and literature into a satisfying career as a writer. Born in Oregon, she graduated from Scripps College and embarked on a career as an editor and technical writer and later as a high school English teacher. She enjoys hearing from her readers. You may write to her directly at PO Box 324, Felton, CA 95018, USA, email her at carowoolston@att.net or visit Lynna’s website at lynnabanning.net.
CAROL ARENS delights in tossing fictional characters into hot water, watching them steam, and then giving them a happily-ever-after. When she is not writing she enjoys spending time with her family, beach camping or lounging about a mountain cabin. At home she enjoys playing with her grandchildren and gardening. During rare spare moments you will find her snuggled up with a good book. Carol enjoys hearing from readers at carolarens@yahoo.com or on Facebook.
Western Christmas Brides
A Bride and Baby for Christmas
Lauri Robinson
Miss Christina’s Christmas Wish
Lynna Banning
A Kiss from the Cowboy
Carol Arens
www.millsandboon.co.uk
Table of Contents
Cover
Back Cover Text
Praise
About the Authors
Title Page
Table of Contents
A Bride and Baby for Christmas
Dedication
Dear Reader
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Miss Christina’s Christmas Wish
Dedication
Dear Reader
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Epilogue
A Kiss from the Cowboy
Dedication
Dear Reader
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Extract
Copyright
A Bride and Baby for Christmas
Lauri Robinson
Dedicated to my granddaughter Karlee Jo.
Love you forever and ever.
Dear Reader
I’ve had so much fun writing about the community members of Oak Grove, and was especially excited to spend the holidays with them. From the time she made an appearance in Winning the Mail-Order Bride, I knew Hannah would have her own story—and because she needed a bit of a miracle, a Christmas story was perfect for her. And Teddy… Well, he was absolutely perfect for her. He just didn’t know it.
While I was writing this story Teddy’s actions reminded me of my grandfather. When I was in grade school my family moved from Northern Minnesota to Kansas. I remember hearing my mother talking to my grandfather on the phone. She told him the store had trees for sale, but they were so dried-out she was afraid to put one in the house. A week or so after that conversation a UPS truck delivered a tree wrapped in burlap to our door. My grandfather had cut down a tree on his property and obtained a special permit to ship it out of state so we could have a ‘real’ Christmas tree.
That’s what this season is about. Miracles. Whether they are trees, cradles or babies. Take a moment to remember your Christmas miracles. And smile.
Blessings to you and yours!
Lauri
Chapter One
Although moments ago she’d seen Teddy White out the window and watched him walking across the field that separated the house from town, the quick knock on the door startled Hannah Olsen so fully, the papers she’d been stacking scattered across the table and onto the chair. Hannah sucked in a deep breath and scooped the papers into a pile before calling, “Come in.”
Teddy stepped in quickly and closed the door behind him. “Good day, Mrs. Olsen,” he said while removing his narrow-brimmed hat. “Fiona asked if I could stop by and pick up your etchings.”
Having grown used to people adding “Mrs.” to her name Hannah no longer flinched at that. However, a flutter happened inside her—and it wasn’t her unborn child. Teddy’s voice did that to her, and she should have prepared herself for it. For months, her heart had taken to fluttering whenever he was near, and lately, it had gotten worse.
Forcing herself to speak around the frog in her throat, she said, “Yes, thank you, Mr. White.” Shaken enough already, she kept her attention on the papers and wooden blocks. Looking at him would only make the flutters worse. “I’m sorry I didn’t have them completed earlier, but I do now.”
“I’m sorry Abigail insisted upon so many this week.” He stepped closer to the table. “It’s because of the holiday. She wants plenty of pictures in the Thanksgiving edition.”
His sincerity surpassed her will not to look at him. Tiny specks of snow clung to his leather jacket, which was the same shade of brown as his eyes. Genuine regret sat in those eyes today. Hannah had seen that before. He often apologized for his sister.
“It wasn’t too many,” she assured, while stepping away from the table. “I just let time slip away when I shouldn’t have.”
“I’m sure you’re busy with many other things,” he said.
Hannah’s hands went to her stomach. She had very little to do, except worry. Her father had said her baby would be ridiculed for not having a father, just like Herb Lundberg had been. A day hadn’t gone by where Herb hadn’t been blamed for something, even on the days he hadn’t been in school. That wouldn’t happen to her child. She’d make sure of it. That’s why she’d left Wisconsin, and would never go back. Not about to admit all that to Teddy, she searched for something else to say. “The wind is bitter today.”
“Yes, it is,” Teddy said with a smile, and a glance toward the stove.
“Oh, would you like a cup of coffee?” She squeezed her hands together to quell their shaking. Teddy stopped by the house regularly to visit with Brett, but this was the first time they’d been alone together.
“If it’s no trouble.”
“None at all,” she said while forcing her feet to walk across the room to the cupboard. “Fiona keeps a pot on the stove for Brett. He always comes home a couple of times during the day.” She had no idea why she said that. Other than because babbling might help. It didn’t. Her heart thudded even faster now.
“I stopped and saw Brett on the way here,” Teddy said.
Hannah nodded as she took down two cups. Teddy and Brett were close friends, which is why she’d been given the job of etching pictures into the blocks of wood for the newspaper. Her grandfather had taught her the skill years ago, mainly as a way to keep her busy. Having been born eight years after her next older sister, she’d spent most every winter in the care of her grandparents while the rest of her family had been out in the woods cutting lumber for their logging company. Perhaps that’s why she enjoyed winter. She had many wonderful memories of staying with her grandparents during Thanksgiving and Christmas.
The time she spent living with Gram and Pappy had been fun and peaceful. There had been no fights, no blame, no hate.
“Hannah?”
Turning about, she pinched her lips as she looked at Teddy, hoping a bit of what he’d said had filtered through her musing.
“If you’d prefer I didn’t attend, that’s fine,” he said.
Her musing had been too thick, leaving her with no idea what he referred to. “I’m sorry.” She filled a cup and held it out. “I didn’t hear what you said. I—uh—I was thinking of the holidays up home.”
“Holidays can be tough to get through those first few years.” He took the cup. “It does get easier.”
His parents had died years before, some of the women in the quilting club had mentioned that, and how he and his sister, Abigail, had settled in other towns before ending up in Oak Grove. From what had been said, Abigail had stirred up trouble in those towns, which is why they’d packed up and left.
“Thank you,” Hannah replied. “I’m sure it will.”
Cupping his coffee cup with both hands, he glanced around before he said, “Earlier, I’d said that Brett has invited me to Thanksgiving dinner, but if you’d prefer I didn’t attend, I’d understand.”
“That would not be up to me, Mr. White,” she said. “This is Brett and Fiona’s home. I would never dream of implying one way or the other that someone was not welcome here.”
“I know you wouldn’t,” he said. “That’s why I mentioned it in private. No one but you and I will know. If it would make you uncomfortable, I won’t come.”
Lifting her chin, she forced a swallow around the solid lump that formed in her throat. He made her uncomfortable all right, because of all the eligible men in Oak Grove, he was the only one she could imagine marrying. Getting married just so her child would have a name, a father, may not be right, but late at night, in the quiet of the house, her father’s voice declaring he wouldn’t allow her to bring shame upon their family by having a child out of wedlock echoed inside her mind. She had to close her eyes to stop that thought from going any further. It took a moment, but once she felt stable enough, she said, “You do not make me uncomfortable.”
He nodded, but there was doubt in his eyes.
There was doubt inside her, too. Her baby was due around the first of the year, which gave her little time to decide what she would do. A few of the women friends she’d made since arriving in Oak Grove knew her secret. Fiona, Martha Taylor, Mary Putnam and Maggie Miller were good friends and continuously assured her no harm would come from allowing others believe she and Eric had been married before he’d died. However, the closer the time came for her baby to be born, the more she understood that it didn’t matter what others believed. What mattered was the truth. She’d never been married, and therefore her baby would be born out of wedlock. Born without a name, just as her father had claimed.
It would take a miracle for that to change. Setting her cup on the counter, she said, “I look forward to having you—” she had to brace herself in order to continue “—and Abigail join us for Thanksgiving dinner.”
“Abigail won’t be joining us.”
The relief that washed over her was greater than she’d expected. Even the baby seemed to rejoice by shifting. She placed both hands on her stomach as the precious rolling continued. The movement filled her with more warmth than the stove did the house.
“Is that your baby moving?”
Still focused on the contentment that filled her, she nodded.
“Your skirt is moving,” he said.
“He or she must be trying to get comfortable.” She loved the tiny being inside her so much, and couldn’t wait to meet him or her. Flattening her skirt, she smiled at the visible movement of the material as the baby continued to move.
“Does it hurt?”
“No. It feels amazing.” Used to sharing the wonderful movement with Fiona, Hannah said, “Give me your hand.”
He did and she placed it on her stomach, palm down.
She knew the moment he felt the baby move. Not only had she felt it from inside her, but his eyes lit up with amazement.
He set his cup on the counter, and holding up that hand, too, he asked, “May I?”
She nodded, and rested her hand atop the other one he placed against her stomach. The sensation was so remarkable, so unexplainable, she closed her eyes to fully cherish the moment.
The baby moved again and Teddy chuckled. “That’s incredible.”
“Yes, it is.” Completely at ease, she opened her eyes to add, “Except for when a foot or knee gets caught beneath one of my ribs.”
His expressions were easy to read. Sympathy was there now.
“It hurts then?”
“No,” she answered, smiling. “It’s just a bit uncomfortable.”
They stood there for several minutes, softly laughing as the baby continued to move. She shouldn’t be enjoying it as much as she was. It was surely scandalous, but exactly what she wanted. Someone to share these precious, wonderful moments with her.
“He or she must have fallen asleep,” Teddy whispered after a time of no movement.
“Or just finally got comfortable,” she said. The stillness also caused a wave of embarrassment to wash over her and she removed her hands from atop his.
He dropped his hands and took a step back. “I—uh—”
She shook her head, not wanting him to apologize. He hadn’t done anything wrong. She had. If his sister learned of what had just happened, Abigail would have more reason to shed scorn. Since the first time they’d met, Abigail’s contempt-filled glares had showered Hannah with more shame than her father’s hateful shouts had back home.
“I have your money here somewhere,” Teddy said, digging in his coat and pants pockets with both hands. “Ah, yes, I put it in this pocket so I’d find it easy.” Handing her an envelope, he said, “There’s also a note from Abigail as to what she’d like for next month. There are some special ads local merchants would like created, as well. She explains them in her note, but they won’t be due for a couple of weeks.”
A tinge of remorse washed over Hannah. In spite of all her instincts, she had to be thankful for Abigail White. If not for the opportunity to create the etchings, she’d be even more indebted to Brett and Fiona. The money she received from the Gazette allowed her to contribute to the household and to purchase the things she needed. Four months ago she’d arrived with little more than a satchel holding one extra dress and underthings.
“Thank you, Mr. White,” she said. “I’ll begin working on them right away.”
“The thanks goes to you. Before you, the newspaper was rather dull. Though we tried, neither Abigail nor I have the drawing skills that you have. I’d wager no one in Kansas has the skills you have.”
“I find that very doubtful,” Hannah answered. “It’s hardly a skill. Just something I like to do.”
He gathered the stack of papers and etchings closer to his side of the table. “Do you need more supplies? Wood or paper?”
“No. I have plenty of paper and Brett has cut up a rather endless supply of wood blocks. He also sharpens the burins regularly, and Rhett and Wyatt enjoy sanding the blocks smooth for me,” she added, referring to Fiona’s two young sons.
“It’s good you have so much help,” Teddy said. “I’ll bid you good day, then. If you hurry, you might still be able to join the quilting club. I’d be happy to walk you to Martha’s dress shop.”
She’d forgone the quilting club session today in order to complete the etchings, and had no desire to venture out in the cold. “Thank you, but no, I’ll remain home today.”
He nodded as he replaced his hat. “It’s a good day to stay inside.” After picking up the stacks, he added, “By tomorrow it could be warm enough to go without a coat. This is Kansas. The weather changes hourly.”
“I’ve noticed how unpredictable the weather can be here. Other than the wind.”
“Aw, yes, the wind. Now, that is something you can count on.”
It was rather amazing how casually they conversed. She was thankful for how he’d made her forget that she’d been embarrassed a short time ago. Which she should have been. Allowing a man to touch her like that. Eric had been the only man to touch her and... Her thoughts paused momentarily as she looked at Teddy. That was the other unique thing about him. He made her forget how badly she missed Eric. How severely she’d mourned his death.
Their gazes locked and held in such a way her heart skipped several beats before he looked away.
“Good day, Mrs. Olsen,” he said, moving to the door.
A sudden desire to stop him from leaving had her stepping forward. Unsure why she didn’t want him to leave, she instantly concluded it had to do with not wanting Abigail to discover what had just happened. “Why isn’t your sister joining us for Thanksgiving dinner?”
“She’s joining the mayor and reverend at Rollie Austin’s place that day.”
“And you weren’t invited?” That seemed terribly rude, even for Abigail.
“Yes, I was invited, but I eat at the hotel almost every day. Brett’s invitation sounded more enjoyable.”
His smile enticed her to offer one in return. “Then I hope you won’t be disappointed.”
“That would be impossible.” He touched the brim of his hat. “Good day, Mrs. Olsen.”
“Good day, Mr. White.” Upon closing the door behind him, she drew a deep breath and leaned her forehead against the solid wood for a moment. Why? Why couldn’t any of the other men on her list make her heart thud? Teddy was as opposite from Eric as a man could be. Eric had been loud and impulsive—two things Teddy certainly wasn’t.
However, he did have one thing in common with Eric. His family hated her. She had lived with hatred her entire life, and was determined her child would never experience it.
Chapter Two
Teddy willed himself not to turn around for a final look. Hannah had already closed the door, so he wouldn’t see her. Other than in his mind. A place where her image was etched as perfectly as the pictures she flawlessly carved into the blocks of wood. He’d been printing newspapers for as long as he could remember and producing multiple copies of pictures was not an easy task. Leastwise it never used to be. His and Abigail’s engravings always collected ink and left globs that bled into the print. That hadn’t happened once with Hannah’s creations.
Her etchings were as flawless as her beauty. He’d been alongside Brett the day Hannah had stepped off the train, and had tried to keep his distance from that moment on. He’d fallen for a forlorn young woman once before and promised himself it would never happen again.
Keeping his distance had been easy at first. Brett’s mother had sent Hannah to Oak Grove and Brett and Fiona had taken her into their home and protected her as strongly as a mother bear would a cub in spring. The entire town discovered why when Hannah’s shape had begun to change.
Teddy let out a long sigh as his hands started to tingle. Touching her, feeling that baby move inside her, had been amazing. Miraculous even. And caused a large amount of compassion to well inside him. She was so young to be widowed and now was expecting a child all on her own.
Only she wasn’t on her own. Brett and Fiona treated her like family and would continue to.
Still, in a town the size of Oak Grove, which was small compared to many but growing steadily, a single woman—widowed or not, expecting or not—was a highly sought after commodity. Last summer the town had formed a Betterment Committee in order to bring suitable women of marrying age to town. Several men had married the mail-order brides, but although he’d contributed to the committee, too, he hadn’t sought out any of the brides. Hadn’t even considered doing so. He’d only gone along with the cause for appearance’s sake. Five years ago he’d gone down the road that led to marriage, but had hit a painful roadblock, which had taught him a valuable lesson.
That was part of the reason he’d kept his distance from Hannah and would continue to, even though her growing stomach made her all the more beautiful to him. He could imagine her having a baby girl with golden curls and blue eyes as lovely as her mother’s.
A tremendous sense of satisfaction grew inside of him as he once again recalled touching her stomach. Feeling the baby move. He couldn’t believe that had happened. Knew it shouldn’t have happened, because every time he looked at her, he was reminded of another young girl carrying a baby. One he’d been ready to claim as his own.
A gust of wind caught him off guard. Teddy tightened his hold on the papers and blocks of wood in his hands, but relentless, the wind won and the bottom piece of paper caught the air. Teddy hurried after it, and stopped it with a stomp of one foot. While bending down to pick it up, he paused. Rather than a drawing, this one held writing. Neat and stylish penmanship he instantly recognized as Hannah’s.