A Cowboy's Christmas Carol

by Brenda Harlen

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re obviously not using it and I can’t sleep another night on Mom’s sofa. Plus, as much as I love my family, four generations of women under one roof is a little too much family.”

  “You’re welcome to stay at Happy Hearts,” Daphne said. “We’ve got a couple of spare bedrooms there.”

  “Thanks,” Vanessa said. “But I’m not staying anywhere that’s rumored to be haunted.”

  “It’s not just a rumor,” Callie said. “It’s really haunted.”

  “Definitely not staying there,” Vanessa said.

  “But not in a scary way, like the library,” Callie assured her. “I filled in on that tour after Evan had his accident, and I won’t be disappointed to never go near that building again.”

  “You can stay at my place,” Evan said, removing the key from his ring and rescuing his sister from what he knew was an uncomfortable conversation for her. “But no wild parties.”

  “You’d have more cause to worry about that if Grandma Daisy and Great-grandma were staying there,” she said. “Or, if not parties, noise complaints from your neighbors. I swear, those two never stop talking.”

  “They’ve got a lot to catch up on,” Evan pointed out.

  “I just want to catch up on my sleep,” his sister promised, pocketing the key.

  * * *

  “I don’t know about you, but I’m kind of glad we don’t have Christmas every day,” Dorothea said, dropping down onto the sofa beside her daughter after all of their guests—and even Vanessa—had gone. “I’m exhausted.”

  “It was a busy day,” Wanda agreed. “But a good day.”

  “What did you think, Winona?” she asked.

  Though Dorothea didn’t have any difficulty thinking about the woman as her mother, she didn’t know that she’d ever be able to call her “Mom” or “Mother.” Not because she worried that her use of the title might in any way detract from her memories of her adoptive mother, but because it seemed weird, at seventy-five years of age, to suddenly have a mother again.

  “It was the best Christmas that I can remember,” Winona said now. “And I have a very long memory.”

  Wanda smiled, obviously pleased by her grandmother’s response. “We’re so glad you could be here to celebrate with us.”

  “I’m so grateful to be here. So happy to have found family again. I just wish...” Her words trailed off and her gaze drifted away.

  “What do you wish?” Dorothea prompted gently.

  “When Josiah left—when his family took him away,” she clarified, “it was sudden and unexpected. I guess I just wish I’d had the chance to say goodbye.”

  “If that’s something that you really want to do, we can take you to see him,” Dorothea said.

  “You wouldn’t mind?”

  “Of course not. Snowy Mountain, where he’s living, isn’t very far from here.”

  “Then yes,” Winona decided. “I do want to see him.”

  “He probably won’t remember you,” Wanda cautioned, obviously not wanting her grandmother to get her hopes up about a reunion with the man she’d loved for so many years. “He doesn’t take much notice of anything these days.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Winona insisted. “Because I remember him.”

  * * *

  And so the day after Christmas, Dorothea found herself headed back to Snowy Mountain, this time with both her daughter and her mother. Becky was on duty again and wished them “merry Christmas” as they passed the nurse’s station on their way to Josiah’s room.

  Today his wheelchair was facing the windows, and Dorothea caught a streak of red as a cardinal swooped past before disappearing into the foliage of a poplar tree.

  Winona’s steps slowed as she entered the room, and Dorothea, understanding at least a little of what she must be feeling, took the arm on the side without the cane to offer some extra support. She guided her to a chair, as Wanda turned Josiah around so that he could see them. Dorothea drew the other chair a little closer to Winona’s before settling into it, while her daughter remained standing by the window.

  She didn’t think it was her place to make introductions—obviously Josiah and Winona had known one another a long time before she was even born, but since entering the room, her mother seemed to have lost her voice and her father, by all accounts, rarely spoke anymore.

  Finally, Winona reached out and touched the old man’s hand.

  “Hello, Josiah,” she said softly.

  He turned his head, an almost imperceptible movement, but there was no doubt in Dorothea’s mind that he was looking at and seeing Winona.

  “I wanted to see you, to let you know that I got your letter. Seventy-five years after you wrote it—” Winona managed a small smile “—but I did finally get it.

  “Even more important, that letter did what you always wanted to do,” she told him. “It brought our daughter, our Beatrix, back to me. And now—” Her voice broke, and she paused for a moment to regain her composure. “Now she’s brought me back to you, to say the goodbye that I never got to say so many years ago.”

  Josiah’s gaze moved from Winona to Dorothea and back again, as if he understood what she was saying, as if he knew exactly who they were.

  Or maybe she was only imagining it.

  “So I’m saying it now—” Winona’s eyes filled with tears “—in case our paths don’t cross again in this world. Goodbye, Josiah. And thank you.”

  He gave a slight nod then and, just before his eyes drifted shut again, his lips curved.

  * * *

  “This New Year’s Eve party was your grandmother’s idea,” Daphne said as she poured the orange juice into the punch bowl. “Why did we offer to have it here?”

  “Because there’s a lot more room here than at my mom’s house.”

  “That’s a good reason,” she acknowledged. “And truthfully, I’m happy to have everyone here, but...”

  “But you’re worried about Vanessa,” he guessed.

  “I just hope there aren’t any surprises tonight.”

  “Of the otherworldly kind, you mean?”

  “She’s your sister, and I want her to feel comfortable coming to visit us.”

  “For what it’s worth, I don’t think any shimmery apparitions or whinnying ghost horses will keep her away now that she’s met Tiny Tim.”

  “That pig does seem to have an effect on the ladies,” Daphne agreed.

  “Have you spiked that punch yet?” Grandma Daisy called out hopefully.

  Daphne laughed as she added 7UP to the bowl. “There’s beer and wine, if you want something with a little kick, but the punch is nonalcoholic.”

  “Or you could doctor your own drink, like you usually do,” Evan told her. “Or did Mom take away your flask?”

  “It wasn’t your mom, it was mine,” Grandma Daisy said. “And she didn’t take it, she drank it.”

  He chuckled at that. “I guess it’s true that the apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree.”

  “Will there at least be champagne at midnight?”

  “There will be champagne at midnight,” Daphne confirmed.

  But apparently Evan didn’t want to wait that long, because he grabbed a bottle of champagne out of the fridge, snagged two crystal flutes, then took Daphne’s hand and led her out to the porch, where they could steal a few minutes alone.

  Barkley darted ahead of them out the door. Daphne smiled as the Lab raced down the steps to romp playfully in the snow. Then her smile widened as she saw, through the window, Dorothea pull Winona to her feet to dance.

  “Your great-grandmother is amazing,” she said. “She’s been going almost nonstop since she came back from Rust Creek Falls with your mom and grandma, and she isn’t showing any signs of slowing down.”

  “I guess meeting the daughter she
thought she’d lost has rejuvenated her spirit.”

  “It’s wonderful to see them reunited after so many years apart.”

  “Is that what inspired you to reconcile with your dad?” he asked.

  “We’re still a long way from being reconciled,” she told him.

  “But you’ve taken the first steps in that direction.”

  Actually, her father had taken the first step when he’d adopted Boo from Happy Hearts.

  But she’d taken the next one—with Evan—when they dropped by the ranch after leaving his mom’s house on Christmas Day.

  It had been a short visit during which she’d admittedly spent more time fussing over Button and Boo than actually talking to Cornelius, but it had been a successful visit in that no one had yelled or cried or slammed any doors.

  “Which is important,” he continued in a casual tone, “because I’m guessing that you’ll want him to walk you down the aisle at the wedding.”

  She had to lean against the porch railing for support, her knees suddenly weak. “Who’s getting married?”

  “You and me.”

  “If this is an April Fools’ Day prank, you’re about four months early.”

  “It’s not a prank,” he assured her. “I wouldn’t joke about something like this.”

  “You really want to get married?”

  “I do.” His quick grin faded and his expression turned serious. “You’ve changed everything for me, Daphne. You’ve made my life better, in so many ways. Over the past few weeks, I’ve not only learned to appreciate the importance of family, I’ve realized that I want a family of my own. With you.”

  Her eyes filled with tears as her heart overflowed with emotion. “I want that, too,” she admitted. “But I figured it was going to take you months—maybe even years—to feel the same way.”

  “I don’t need any more time to know that I want to spend every day of the rest of my life showing you how much I love you,” he assured her. “Just don’t tell me that you want Tiny Tim to be our ring bearer.”

  “Why not? He would totally rock a tuxedo jacket,” she said, grinning.

  “Not as well as Billie.”

  “Billie could be the flower girl.”

  He shook his head regretfully. “I’m not sure the flowers would survive being carried by a goat.”

  “I wouldn’t count on rings faring any better.”

  “Speaking of,” he said, and pulled a diamond solitaire out of his pocket.

  “Ohmygod.” She stared at the glittering stone, then Evan as he dropped down to one knee. “Ohmygod,” she said again, unable to believe this was actually happening.

  “Daphne Taylor, will you marry me?”

  She nodded, her heart so full of love and happiness she thought it might burst out of her chest. “Yes, Evan Cruise, I will marry you.”

  He took her left hand and slid the diamond onto her third finger. Then he rose to his feet again and drew her close to kiss her, long and slow and deep.

  “And now you have another reason to reach out to your dad,” he said. “To share the happy news that we’re getting married.”

  “You’re right that we need to tell him,” she said. “But can we maybe wait until next year?”

  He chuckled. “Yeah, I guess we can wait that long—since next year is only a few hours away.”

  As he unwrapped the foil around the neck of the bottle, Daphne let her gaze drift to the peachleaf willow in the distance.

  “You’re thinking about Alice and Russell, aren’t you?”

  She nodded. “I haven’t heard a word from Alice since we buried Russell’s ashes on Christmas Eve.”

  “Maybe they’re finally resting in peace—together,” he said, echoing the words that were inscribed on the new grave marker they’d set in place earlier that day.

  He popped the cork on the champagne then and poured the bubbly, handing one of the glasses to his fiancée.

  “I think I’m going to miss her,” Daphne said softly. “The farm feels empty somehow without her.”

  “It won’t be empty for long,” he promised. “Because we’re going to fill it with lots of love and kids.”

  She smiled, liking the sound of that...but something about his word choice niggled at the back of her mind. “Wait a minute,” she said. “When you say kids, do you mean children or baby goats?”

  Evan laughed. “I guess time will tell.”

  He lifted his glass, offering a toast. “To old friends and overdue reunions.”

  “To the New Year and new beginnings,” Daphne added, tapping her glass against his.

  As they drank, a gentle breeze ruffled the evergreen garlands on the fence and rustled the bare branches on the peachleaf willow in the distance.

  And happy-ever-after.

  He pulled back, a strange look on his face. “Did you hear something?”

  “No...” But her gaze shifted to that tree, and the marker beneath it. “I don’t think so.”

  “I just... I could have sworn...” He shook his head now. “It doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is that we’re going to spend the rest of our lives, right here, together.”

  She smiled. “That sounds like a promise that should be sealed with a kiss.”

  As Evan brushed his lips over Daphne’s, Barkley signaled his approval with a happy bark and the wind blew softly.

  * * *

  Catch up with the rest of the Montana Mavericks: What Happened to Beatrix? continuity!

  Look for In Search of the Long-Lost Maverick by New York Times bestselling author Christine Rimmer

  The Cowboy’s Comeback

  by Melissa Senate

  The Maverick’s Baby Arrangement

  by Kathy Douglass

  The Cowboy’s Promise

  by Teresa Southwick

  His Christmas Cinderella

  by Christy Jeffries

  and

  A Cowboy’s Christmas Carol

  by Brenda Harlen

  Available now, wherever Harlequin books and ebooks are sold!

  Keep reading for an excerpt from A Temporary Christmas Arrangement by Christine Rimmer.

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  A Temporary Christmas Arrangement

  by Christine Rimmer

  Chapter One

  The drive from Portland to Valentine Bay started out just as Lincoln Stryker had been certain it would. Both kids seemed happy. Linc had everything under control.

  A glance in the rearview mirror revealed five-year-old Jayden in the car seat directly behind Linc. The boy gazed dreamily out the window.

  Jayden was a talker. He might be lazily watching the world go by, but he didn’t do it silently. Not Jayden. He chattered nonstop. “Uncle Linc, I hope the nice ladies next door are home. Did you meet the nice ladies?”

  Had he? Linc had no clue. Probably not. “At the cottage, you mean?”

  “Yes. They are Harper and Hailey and I like them a lot.”

  “I don’t think I’ve met them.” Linc hadn’t been to his family’s seaside cottage in more than a decade. His hazy, fond memories of the place didn’t include the neighbors.

  And as it turned out, Jayden didn’t care if Linc knew the “nice ladies” or not. The little boy babbled on, “Harper and Hailey are sisters and they are so much fun. I was only four last Christmas, but I ’member. I ’member everything. I ’member they came over to play and they helped me make a snowman—and that ’minds me. There should be snow, Uncle Linc. There should be snow, and Harper and Hailey can help me make a snowma
n. Will you help, too?”

  Linc took his eyes off the road long enough to cast a quick look over his right shoulder at two-year-old Maya in the other car seat. She was already asleep, her plush stuffed pig, Pebble, clutched in her chubby little arms.

  “Uncle Linc, will you help me make my snowman?” Jayden asked more insistently.

  Linc faced the road again, caught Jayden’s eye in the rearview and winked at him. “Absolutely, I will.”

  “Good. And don’t forget the Christmas tree...”

  “I won’t.”

  “I ’member last year we had a tall one.”

  Linc felt a sharp pang of sadness. “I’m sure you did.” Megan—Jayden’s mom and Linc’s only sibling—had always required a real tree, a tall one.

  “I want one like that this year, too, Uncle Linc.”

  “A tall one, it is.” Megan Hollister had loved Christmas. For all her too-short life, she’d insisted that the holidays should be spent at the Stryker family cottage on the coast.

  “We have to put on all the lights,” Jayden said. “All the lights and the red shiny balls and the little toy soldiers and the angel on the very top...”

  Linc pushed his sadness aside and focused on the wide, gently curving road ahead as Jayden happily chattered away. The kid was intrepid in the best sense of the word. Nothing got him down.

  And Linc would do everything in his power to make sure that Jayden—and Maya, too—had a good Christmas this year, the kind of Christmas Megan would have given them if she were still here. It was going to be Linc and his niece and nephew, from Thanksgiving through New Year’s. Family only, the way Megan would have wanted it.

  The kids’ grandma Jean had tried to convince Linc that he would need a nanny at the cottage, especially if he hoped to work remotely. Jean Hollister was a wonderful woman. Jayden and Maya adored her—rightfully so. But Jean didn’t know everything.

  Linc and Jayden and Maya would manage just fine. No nanny required until after Christmas, when they returned to Portland and Linc went back to the office full-time.