“I couldn’t possibly be a—” He glanced about. “Which ones are they?”
“Those five little ones huddled in the corner, looking like they’ve spotted the devil.”
“That’s good...children can’t be too careful. Wouldn’t be wise of them to take to a stranger.”
“Let’s get down to business, Grandfather.” Suddenly Rayne looked like a man she hadn’t seen before. A man of business who was used to getting his way. “You want us out and we are not leaving. Not tonight or tomorrow. In fact, we aren’t leaving at all.”
“I’ve brought the sheriff to make sure you do.”
“The sheriff is busy with my sweetie buns,” Mrs. Blue declared, coming back into the sanctuary.
It was impossible to miss the effect she had on Rayne’s grandfather. The hard lines of his face softened. Laira Lynne couldn’t be sure, but she thought he nearly smiled.
“He’ll be too stuffed with holiday cheer to get out of his chair. He’s a family man, did you know, Willie? Says he’ll quit his job before he forces us out. Oh, listen, the fiddler is beginning to play. Remember how we were, Willie, way back when?”
Mrs. Blue caught William’s hand to her chest and tugged him along into the social room where the doors were flung wide and the dancing beginning.
“Did you know that your grandfather and Mrs. Blue used to be in love?”
He shook his head and caught her around the waist. “Let’s go see what becomes of it.”
Bettie and Willie danced.
Laira Lynne and her groom did, too, along with everyone else, even the sheriff, who toe-tapped about the room with a sugary treat in each hand.
When the music stopped, the girls timidly approached William.
“You don’t look like Satan,” Belle announced, staring up with her small hands fisted on her hips.
“That, my dear, is because I am not.”
“He don’t have...” Jane said.
“...horns,” Abby finished.
“As it appears, I am your new great-grandfather.”
“If that were true,” Lynne said, peering at him with squinted eyes, “you wouldn’t take Mama and Papa away.”
“I didn’t...I wouldn’t. I lost someone, too.”
“If you wreck our house, they won’t know where to find us,” Belle said. “The store burned down.”
William sputtered something, but Laira Lynne couldn’t hear what it was.
“Merry Christmas, Great-grandfather.” Ruthie stepped forward and formally shook his hand, and then she ran off with her sisters following.
“Out of the mouths of babes, Willie, out of the mouths of babes.” Mrs. Blue shook her gray head solemnly. “While you may not be the devil, you are Scrooge, in love with your money instead of people.”
“Their parents are dead. They’ll need to face that. Besides, I wasn’t trying to cheat anyone.”
“Oh, but you have been, all these years. You’ve cheated us of your charming self. I believe you need a sweetie bun.”
Mrs. Blue snagged William’s hand and tugged him toward the dessert table.
“What do you make of that?” Rayne asked. They had been close enough to hear every word that had passed between the couple.
“I’m not sure, but apparently Mrs. Blue has some influence over your grandfather.”
“Look at that! She’s making the old man smile!” Rayne blinked his eyes as though he could scarcely believe what he was seeing. “Ordinarily, that expression is reserved for looking at his bank balance.”
“Well, Rayne, it is Christmas, after all.”
The fiddler came back and everyone danced again, except for Mrs. Blue and William Lantree. They sat shoulder to shoulder eating sweetie buns.
If folks were agitated about William Lantree’s presence and what it meant, they didn’t show it. Laughter and good wishes filled the room.
Greetings of “Merry Christmas!” passed from person to person.
Rayne whirled her toward the mistletoe hanging between the sanctuary and the social room. He kissed her long and sweetly.
“I’ve got a different sort of kiss in store for you later, Mrs. Lantree.”
“I love you, Rayne.” This time she kissed him.
Somehow it didn’t matter that she had loved him for only a short while. Love, she was learning, didn’t recognize time.
From the corner of her eye she spotted William approaching with a very odd look on his face.
He seemed younger.... So did Mrs. Blue, walking beside him as if years had been wiped from her posture.
The old woman’s eyes, normally twinkling, now had stars in them.
Beyond the stained glass, the snow fell harder.
Sitting in front of the big window with the children gathered about her skirt, the preacher’s wife read “’Twas the Night Before Christmas.”
William Lantree cleared his throat, glanced at a nodding Mrs. Blue then back at Rayne.
“Mrs. Blue has made it clear that I will never taste another one of her pastries unless—” Rayne’s grandfather took a long breath and held it.
“Go on, Willie...” Mrs. Blue winked and the old man smiled, genuine and wide.
“Very well.... Bettie believes that I don’t need to die with so much money. I’m giving the railroad the longer, cheaper route. You can keep your town.”
Someone must have overheard then passed the news along. Cheers and hallelujahs rolled through the room in a wave.
“Looks like we got our miracle,” Rayne whispered in her ear.
“Move over, boy.” William elbowed his grandson aside.
Laira Lynne pulled Rayne a few steps closer to the preacher’s wife, who picked up her story where she had paused.
William Lantree gathered Beatrice Blue to him under the mistletoe and gave her a long, lusty kiss.
“‘Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night,’” the preacher’s wife declared.
* * * * *
Christmas
with Her Cowboy
Lauri Robinson
Dear Reader,
When I was asked to write a story for the Christmas Cowboy Kisses anthology I knew I had to give my heroine a red cape with a white fur trim. Yes, because my favorite color is red, but also because, to me, Christmas isn’t Christmas without red—be it a coat, blouse, sweater or dress. Why? Well…
My father’s favorite color was red. He was also a “Christmas Eve shopper.” I tried to get him to shop earlier, but finally had to concede it wasn’t going to happen. So, no matter how many people I was expecting for dinner that night, I knew Christmas Eve morning would be spent shopping with my dad for one particular present. A red dress for my mother. We deviated a bit over the years—a red skirt and jacket, or one year it was a red coat—but for the most part it was a red somewhat fitted dress. My parents were married for almost sixty years, and my mother always acted as if it was the first red dress she’d ever received upon opening his package.
When my father died in 2007 I told my sister I was going to buy a red dress for the funeral, and that tumbled throughout the family. At dad’s funeral all the girls, right down to my granddaughter, not yet six months old, were dressed in red and the men of the family wore red shirts or ties. That year, though I didn’t buy it on Christmas Eve morning (I now dedicate that morning to remembering my dad by not shopping), I bought my mom a red blouse, not wanting to try and replace dad’s gifts, but to keep the tradition going. And I did so every year until 2011, when Mom passed away. Since then I’ve bought myself something red to wear at Christmas, just to keep the memories flowing.
I hope you enjoy picturing Anna in her red cape, and I hope you enjoy her and Tanner’s story!
May you all have a blessed and Merry Christmas!
/> Lauri Robinson
DEDICATION
To my oldest granddaughter, Isabelle.
Born on December 23rd, she continues to be
a Christmas miracle we enjoy year-round.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter One
Wyoming 1881
Tanner Maxwell tugged his hat down and flipped the collar of his coat up to protect his ears from the biting wind whipping around the corner of the depot. Planting the sole of one boot against the wooden building behind him, he crossed his arms and leaned back.
The judge must have drawn straws. No one would have volunteered for this job. Tanner sure hadn’t, and assuming he was the short straw didn’t help his temperament. Neither did the gray sky or the bits of snow swirling about. Hauling Anna Hagen back to the ranch was going to be unpleasant enough; he sure didn’t need a storm to fight along the way.
Never seeing the judge’s granddaughter again would suit him just fine. Guilt had nothing to do with it either. He hadn’t done anything to be guilty about. She, on the other hand—
Nope, he wouldn’t go there either. He’d just go on counting his lucky stars he’d stopped before venturing down that lane. He respected Walter too much to put something like that between them.
Then and now.
Huddled in fur and wool coats and holding on to hats the wind attempted to steal, a queue of passengers stepped off the train. No hat could hide Anna Hagen’s mess of brown curls, and Tanner’s mind tried to take another detour, which he stopped short. Instead, he recalled how she’d disappointed the judge time and time again.
And that he was the short straw.
The noise of people shouting above the wind, the clanging of doors and the pounding of heels scurrying across the platform died down a bit. Tanner peered closer at the women who had departed, wondering if Anna had changed so much in the five years since she’d gone to live with her father in Kansas City that he’d overlooked her.
Not one of them looked familiar, but being a man, one who appreciated beauty when he saw it, Tanner couldn’t pull his eyes off a slender woman wearing a long red cape. The hood was up, protecting her head from the elements, and the white fur surrounding her face made a stunning picture. For the briefest of moments, Tanner wished he was the man holding that woman’s elbow, escorting her toward the depot. He wanted that—someday—a wife, a family that was truly his.
As if she sensed his stare, the woman in the red cloak turned. A friendly smile formed as her eyes met his. A flutter happened inside his chest. Tanner lifted a hand to touch the brim of his hat, giving her a subtle acknowledgment. Maybe being a short straw wasn’t all bad.
She reached over and patted the hand holding her elbow. The man, taller than her by several inches, bowed slightly to give her his full attention while she graciously nodded toward the building.
Tanner pushed off the wall and scanned the train cars. That woman was taken, and he wasn’t a thief—no matter what others believed. Where was the judge’s granddaughter? It would be like her to not be on the train. To have gotten Walter’s hopes up, just to destroy them by not showing up. If she had done that again, Tanner might just buy himself a ticket, travel all the way to Kansas City and tell Anna Hagen what a spoiled brat she was. Just like her father.
That’s how Tanner saw it. When you grew up without a family, you tended to notice how poorly others mistreat the ones they have.
The man, dressed in a tailor-fitted black coat and top hat, and the woman in her red cape, weaved around a few lagging passengers, making their way toward him. Tanner was just about to give them a parting nod when the woman spoke.
“Tanner?”
A cold, invisible fist gripped his spine as he examined her more closely. Thickly lashed eyes, a friendly smile that enhanced her cheekbones and a simple, somewhat button nose that when put together were undoubtedly stunning. Maybe it was the white rabbit fur that trimmed the red hood, but she looked almost angelic, like an image on one of the Christmas cards the judge received this time of year.
“Tanner Maxwell?”
“Yes,” he said cautiously.
“It’s me,” she said, flipping the hood off her head. “Anna Hagen.”
Air rattled in his lungs. To say he was surprised would have put it too mildly, but he wasn’t about to let her know that. With a nod, he replied, “I see that.” Without the white fur distracting his vision, he could see she was the one the entire ranch referred to as the granddaughter. He’d thought he was prepared for this—seeing her again—but a sinking feeling said there were no lucky stars left for him to thank. Anna Hagen had grown up.
She laughed again and without any warning leaped forward and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I can’t tell you how good it is to be home.”
Tanner wished he wasn’t backed up against the wall so he could escape her hold. As it was, he took her upper arms and set her aside, all the while trying not to notice how sweet she smelled, the softness of her velvet cape or how his mind flung one specific memory—that of how sweet her lips had once tasted—around faster than the wind spit out snowflakes.
The clearing of a throat had her giggling. “Oh, John, darling, forgive me,” she said to the man, taking his arm with both her hands. “This is Tanner Maxwell, my grandfather’s right-hand man.”
Tanner was more than a bit amazed to hear her call him that. Considering what her father called him.
She turned those sparkling blue eyes back to him. “Tanner, this is John Hampton, my fiancé.”
It wasn’t that Tanner was tongue-tied, he just didn’t have a response to that.
The other man extended a hand. “Mr. Maxwell.”
Tanner’s insides had turned as cold as the wind, yet he took the man’s hand, shook it. “Mr. Hampton.” He nodded toward the edge of the platform, where a wagon with the Double Bar brand burned in the side of the wood sat amongst several others. “I’ll get your baggage.”
“I’ll help,” John Hampton said as he put an arm around Anna. “Go inside, dear, out of the weather while Mr. Maxwell and I load the wagon.”
“That’s not necessary,” she responded. “I’m too excited to be cold.” She hugged the man with both arms. “Oh, John, darling, you’re going to love it here as much as I do. I just know it.”
Tanner’s mouth had filled with a bitter taste. Probably due to the darling and dear. Seeing the porter, Wes Marley, waving at him from the baggage car, Tanner skirted around them as John darling started to say something else about the weather. The Double Bar had shipments come in on a regular basis, so he knew most every railroad man, including Marley, who was now shaking his head.
Tanner saw why when he arrived at the open doorway. Trunks were stacked five high. “All that?”
“No, the bottom one is someone else’s,” Wes replied. “Old Judge Hagen has to be grinning from ear to ear at having his granddaughter home for Christmas.”
“Yes, he is.” Tanner reached in to grab a trunk handle.
Wes caught hold of the opposite handle and as they started walking toward the wagon, he asked, “Does the judge know about the fiancé?”
“Not much gets past Walter,” Tanner answered, yet he harbored the same question. In all his talk about Anna coming home for Christmas, the judge hadn’t mentioned anyone accompanying her. Tanner had asked if Will, her father and the prodigal son, was coming. Walter had said no, which had every man at the ranch letting out a sigh of relief. The judge had never said Anna was alone ei
ther. Leave it to Walter to surprise everyone. Including him.
A fiancé?
Anna and John darling helped with the luggage, and other than a parting comment assuring Wes he’d see him at the Christmas party the ranch was hosting later that month, Tanner kept his thoughts to himself. He had plenty of them—thoughts—and they kept growing as the three of them climbed onto the wagon seat and set out for home.
It would be a long ride, fifteen miles, and the wind was picking up; so were the flakes of snow. His temperament grew more sour with each revolution of the wagon wheels, too, but that had a lot to do with the darlings and dears that kept spewing from the couple’s mouths.
He’d never begrudge anyone for falling in love and getting married, but these two had him sick to his stomach. It was worse than sitting in a hard chair watching actors on the stage at the playhouse in town. He’d gone there once, when Rosalie had begged him to take her, and swore he’d never sit through that torture again.
The real-life version was worse.
* * *
Anna was so filled with joy nothing could wipe the smile from her face. Not the wind or snow or even Tanner’s grumpiness. He’d barely said three words to her. Less to John. But that was Tanner. He’d never been overly talkative, and she was glad he hadn’t changed over the years.
Five years.
She’d asked her grandfather if she could visit too many times to count. He’d always said yes, but each time, at the last moment, something had happened to prevent her from going. Usually it had to do with her father’s schedule.
She loved him, her father, she truly did, and assisting him had been her top priority, so she never let on how disappointing not going home had been. To do so would have been wrong. He’d needed her and she’d been there for him, but now, although she felt selfish admitting it, she was so very glad that part of her life was over. Seeing Tanner—grumpy or not—confirmed it. She was home.
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