The Christmas Bride - A Western Romance Novella (Book 4, Burnett Brides Series)

by Sylvia McDaniel

  The Christmas Bride

  By Sylvia McDaniel

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  Table of Contents

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  June told me you’re good at helping a woman find a husband,” Myrtle Sanders said, her voice soft and barely discernible over the clank of dishes and customers’ voices in the café in Fort Worth, Texas.

  Eugenia Burnett’s ears hurt from the last hour of Myrtle’s continuous whining about how her children didn’t visit her and how loneliness was her only companion.

  Her story had begun to grate on Eugenia’s nerves like ants scurrying along a trail until she was ready to tell the woman she had to run. Literally, she wanted to escape.

  Finally, like an overdue stagecoach, the conversation seemed to have arrived at the reason Myrtle had asked her to lunch.

  “Much to my children’s dismay, I do enjoy dabbling in helping people find a partner,” Eugenia admitted, her mind already thinking of the possible matches for Myrtle. She’d find her a man.

  Eugenia smiled, her heart warming at the thought of her sons and their families. Since she’d found mates for her three stubborn boys, she’d begun to help her friends find mates to spend the rest of their days with.

  The woman smiled, her eyes full of doubt. “What’s the chance of either one of us ever marrying again?”

  “Me?” Eugenia asked, stunned. What had she said that gave this woman the impression she wanted a husband? She needed to disavow this notion immediately.

  “I’m not looking to get hitched to any man. I don’t need the aggravation of being married. I’m in a mighty nice place. My kids are close. The ranch is run by Travis and Tanner, and I have spending money if I need it. There is nothing that a man can provide that I need.”

  When Thomas died, the ranch was earning enough she could continue her style of life without her husband. Without a man telling her when to take her next breath.

  “Not even companionship?” the woman asked, a pensive pinch to her face.

  Eugenia shrugged, remembering those first few desolate nights. “If I get lonely, my grandchildren are close-by. The rest of the time is mine to do what I please.”

  Myrtle shook her head. “My Charlie use to wrap his arms around me at night and hold me close. I miss that tenderness.”

  “He also liked to tell you what you could and couldn’t do,” Eugenia said, remembering how Thomas ordered her around. She was no longer that pliant bride of fifteen.

  “Yes, men seem to think they have to be in control of a woman,” Myrtle admitted.

  “And I don’t need any man to tell me what I can and can’t do. I’m quite capable of taking care of myself.”

  Long gone were the days when Eugenia Burnett took orders from any man. Now she was a strong woman capable of voicing her opinion and making her own decisions.

  Myrtle sighed. “Sometimes Charlie was a little overbearing, but there were times I could change his mind. At this age, a good man is hard to find. I’m lonely. I don’t like living by myself. I want a man to take care of me.”

  “Don’t worry. I’m certain I can help you. Just last month I helped Claudine meet Richard. I also introduced Mary to Loyd and then there was June and Dillon. Women our age can find a man if we want one,” Eugenia assured Myrtle.

  Though the sparkle of youth had faded, Eugenia’s friends claimed they were lonely and needed mates at their sides. Matching up widow women entertained her and kept her busy, much to her sons’ dislike.

  Myrtle leaned in closer. “You certainly like to match people up. I mean look at your sons. You put them together with their wives.”

  “Someone had to, or I would never have had any grandkids. They didn’t seem inclined to find women to settle down with, so I took action to get what I wanted. Grandkids. Now I have two boys and a girl with another one on the way.”

  “You are a determined woman.”

  Eugenia almost laughed out loud. Now she was a determined woman, but in her youth…she’d been a milquetoast bride. Not any longer.

  “I go after what I want, and most of the time I get my way.” Eugenia lifted her chin defiantly. Since Thomas passed away, she’d relished in her freedom. She’d grown strong and hard as nails and wielded her matriarchal power over her sons.

  “Myrtle, what do you want? Do you want another man telling you what to do?” Eugenia asked.

  “I want someone by my side. I want to roll over in the middle of the night and reach out to feel a man beside me. I want to smile across the dinner table and have someone to talk to.”

  The noise from the café seemed to fade into the background as Eugenia stared at Myrtle’s brown hair streaked with strands of gray and her milky complexion lined with wrinkles.

  “Let me think about who is available,” Eugenia said as she thought of the eligible widowers and single men in town that she knew. “Red Jenkins’s wife just died, so it’s too soon for him. James Randall has been a widower for six months, but he has a fondness for drink. Bart Smith has been a widower for a year, but his children still live with him. You would be taking on the care of two older kids. Then there is Wyatt Jones. He was married to my friend Beatrice.”

  Eugenia’s heart quivered at the thought of big Wyatt.

  “I know Wyatt. He’s one big cowboy. One that certainly makes a woman’s pulse race,” Myrtle said, her blue eyes wide and dreamy with the possibility.

  Eugenia nodded her head. Yes, she thought so, too. “He’s quite the catch. A mite stubborn, but he took great care of Beatrice when she was ill. Wyatt’s all bullheaded man.”

  Myrtle whispered softly. “What would you recommend I do?”

  “Simple. Make him a casserole dish and take it out to his place. After all, it’s just him and the ranch hands. As far as I know, he doesn’t have anyone making him home-cooked meals. Men love a good meal.”

  Men were so gullible. A home-cooked meal and the romance was on.

  Myrtle grinned, her blue eyes shining with tears. “Charlie always loved my chicken and rice. Do I just drop it off?”

  “Sure. It’s a signal that you’re interested in him. You take him the casserole, you smile, and tell him you hope to see him in town soon. That’s a subtle way of saying you’d like him to ask you out to dinner. If he doesn’t respond, then you try again.”

  Myrtle stared at her, a frown creased her forehead. “What if he just looks at me? What do I do then?”

  “Oh, he’s smart enough to know what you’re implying. If he doesn’t respond by the second casserole, then we’ll have to find someone else.”

  And Wyatt had turned down more than one woman with a casserole she’d sent his way. Sooner or later, he would take the bait.

  Myrtle frowned, her eyes wrinkling in the corners. “You’re sure about this?”

  “It’s how Mary and Loyd met.”

  The door to the café opened, the cold wind slamming it against the wall. The restaurant grew quiet with the sudden entrance, and Eugenia turned to see who was making such a racket.

  Wyatt Jones stood in the doorway, his muscular frame filling the opening. His cowboy hat sat at an angle on top of his head, and his large brown eyes scanned the room.

  In his hand, he carried a duffle bag.

  Eugenia tried to ignore the big man as he strolled through the doorway and removed his Stetson.

  Their gazes locked across the room, and he smiled, his full lips turning up in a grin that made her body soften and her heart give an extra little ca-thunk. He spoke to the waitress, b
ut his gaze never wavered from Eugenia.

  Uh-oh. A tingle of nerves zinged through her bones. This couldn’t be good.

  His boots made a rhythmic thump, thump, thump on the wooden floor as he walked with a determined stride straight toward her, his bag in hand, his spurs jingling. Nervously, she licked her lips.

  Myrtle’s back faced the door, and she continued to blather about something. But Eugenia couldn’t seem to focus on the words. All she could see was this handsome cowboy walking her way. She couldn’t stop staring at him. She knew he was coming for her.

  She’d already sent several women his way, and she didn’t think he was here to thank her for curing his loneliness.

  Wyatt stopped at their table, touching the rim of his hat as he glanced at Myrtle. “Morning Mrs. Sanders. Nice to see you.”

  He pivoted to Eugenia, his brown eyes dancing with merriment. Staring into those earthy eyes, a warm flush settled over her like a blanket. He opened the bag, withdrew a casserole dish, and laid it on the table. He took a second dish out and placed it alongside the first one, and then another, and another.

  Oh dear.

  When he finished, six clean, empty casserole dishes sat in front of her.

  His mouth turned up in that slow, lazy grin that burned a sizzle along her spine. Why did this man make her feel like she’d raced her grandchildren around the yard and couldn’t catch her breath? Why did this man make her more nervous than a virgin on her wedding day? Why did this man have her wondering how his lips would feel against her own?

  “Eugenia,” he said in that deep drawl that sent shivers skittering over her. “You’ve been mighty busy, sending women out to my house. You’ve kept me and my men well fed the last couple of weeks.”

  “Glad I could help,” she said, her voice sounding breathy and soft.

  He leaned in close and put his hands on either side of her, effectively pinning her in the chair. She felt the urge to jump up and run, but resisted. She sat there, stared him in the eye and refused to back down. No longer would she back down to any man. Never again.

  “While I appreciate the effort, I’m not taking the bait. There’s only one woman in this town that I’m interested in pursuing to become my wife.” The deep timbre of his voice was low and commanding.

  “And pray tell, who would that be?” she asked, knowing she would have him hitched as soon as possible.

  “You, Eugenia Burnett. You.”

  His cinnamon eyes twinkled with amusement and left her tingly in places she refused to acknowledge.

  The heat from the fireplace warmed the room, but she sat frozen in her chair, unable to move, unable to respond. Wyatt Jones wanted her to become his wife?

  “Think about it.”

  Before her mouth began to work again, he rose, picked up his bag, turned, and walked out of the restaurant.

  Slowly her body seemed to come to life again and with it her resolve. He’d be waiting until hell froze over if he thought she would marry him.

  #

  Inside the Burnett homestead kitchen, Rose Burnett glanced around the table at her sisters-in-law. Eugenia was outside playing with Lucas and Desirée while the women had a rare moment alone.

  “Hey, did y’all hear what happened at the cafe?”

  Sarah started to laugh. “Did I hear? Tucker came in laughing about how his mother may have finally met her match.”

  Beth looked confused. “What happened?”Rose and Sarah told her how Wyatt Jones had confronted Eugenia at the café.

  “He said he wanted to marry her?” Rose asked, her voice low.

  “Said she was the only woman he was interested in pursuing is what I heard,” Sarah replied.

  Beth about snorted her coffee. “Wow! I don’t know how Tanner would feel about his mother remarrying. How about Tucker and Travis?”

  Rose smiled. “Oh, Travis thinks his mother needs someone to keep her under control. Since she lied to bring us together and said I stole her wedding ring, he’s thinking maybe she needs someone to make certain she minds her own business.”

  Though Rose was grateful to Eugenia for bringing them together, during that time, Travis had made her life miserable.

  Sarah rolled her eyes. “The way she lied to me about my grandfather being ill. It’s very hard to believe everything she says. I know she brought me home with the hope that Tucker and I would work out our differences.” She rubbed her hand across her swollen stomach. “I’m glad that she did, but when I got off that stage and learned that grandfather wasn’t seriously ill, I would have gladly strangled that woman.”

  “I never would have met Tanner if it wasn’t for her,” Beth acknowledged quietly. “Though I almost wound up with Tucker, now I’m grateful to her.”

  “Yes, but don’t you think she deserves the same happiness that we have with our husbands?” Rose asked, thinking that her mother-in-law deserved her own chance at happiness. “Thomas Burnett has sbeen dead for well over five years. It would be better for her to have a man she could focus her attention on rather than her sons.”

  “And grandchildren,” Beth said.

  “And matchmaking. You did hear that she has sent six women to Wyatt’s place with casserole dishes,” Sarah volunteered.

  Rose giggled like a young girl, thinking of Eugenia’s reaction to Wyatt’s casserole dish display. The gossip had spread faster than cholera through town. “I would love to have witnessed her reaction when Wyatt laid out all those empty casserole dishes in front of her.”

  “Has she mentioned Wyatt? Do you think she’s interested in getting married again?” Beth asked.

  Sarah shook her head. “Oh no, she wants nothing to do with getting married herself. She told Tucker at dinner the other night that there was no way that she would saddle herself with another husband. One was enough.”

  There was a group sigh, and for a moment everyone sat there in silence. Finally, Beth said, “Did either of you want to get married?”

  The other two women shook their heads.

  “No way,” Rose responded, remembering her dreams of being like her mother, an actress on the stage.

  “Not really,” Sara replied. “I had my son and my practice, what more could I need?”

  “Yet, when we fell in love, we wanted to marry our husbands,” Rose said.

  “And how did we meet our husbands?” Beth asked.

  “Eugenia,” the three women responded in unison. They laughed.

  “How do we help her fall in love?” Rose asked, trying to remember when she realized she loved Travis. They had fought each other and the feeling for so long that when they finally succumbed, it was euphoric.

  Sara grinned. “We do what Mama Burnett did. Every chance we get, we wrangle them together.”

  Rose leaned back and laughed. Eugenia wouldn’t let Travis arrest her again, so she’d stayed at the ranch because of Eugenia. “Wyatt hasn’t been to the ranch recently. We’ll invite him for dinner next weekend. Beth and I will plan everything, and you and Tucker can come out. The whole family will get to meet Mr. Jones.”

  “You know, there’s the annual Christmas tree event coming up soon. Let’s do everything we can to arrange for them to be in the same wagon,” Beth said, laughing gleefully.

  “The meeting about the Christmas pageant is in two weeks. Eugenia said she was going to volunteer again to be the pageant director,” Sarah said, unable to contain a giggle.

  “But this year, Mr. Davis passed away. They need a new coordinator. Wonder if we can convince Wyatt he would make an excellent organizer,” Rose said excitedly.

  They laughed.

  Sara nodded at her sisters-in-law. “Sometimes what we do can come back to haunt us. This time Eugenia is going to meet her match.”

  Rose nodded, thinking poor Eugenia was going to get quite a surprise. “This time we’re doing the matchmaking.”

  #

  Wyatt looked over at Gus, his ranch foreman, the man who’d been at his side for nearly twenty years. Since Beatrice’s death,
Wyatt had taken to eating in the bunkhouse with the men rather than up at the large, empty house he rumbled around in.

  After dinner, he and Gus usually came back to the house where they would share a whiskey or two before they each headed off to bed.

  “It’s December, and already that north wind is colder than a well-digger’s ass in Montana,” Gus said, backing up to the blaze, warming his backside.

  Tonight was cold, and Wyatt had started a fire in the hearth to chase the chill from the study. He’d refused to let Beatrice decorate this one room. This room belonged to him, and he’d decorated it just the way he damn well pleased. Now, he wanted to move his bed in here rather than sleep in that lonely bedroom upstairs. He missed his wife, the healthy Beatrice, not the woman who’d wasted away before his eyes.

  “Yes, we probably need to have the men go ahead and move the cattle to the south pasture, where we can keep an eye on them. Looks like winter arrived early this year.”

  Books graced the shelves along with liquor bottles. Above the fireplace mantel hung his ten-point buck he’d shot right after they built the house. This house, his home, held so many memories, and now he was ready to create more memories with someone, maybe even Eugenia.

  “Yap,” Gus responded and then rubbed his belly. “I was getting spoilt to those casseroles you kept bringing out. What happened? They’ve dried up worse than the creek in summer.”

  “I put an end to them,” Wyatt responded, remembering the look on Eugenia’s face as he’d pulled out the empty dishes. Sometimes a man had to get the upper hand, and he’d taken the first step that day.

  “Dang, I was enjoying a woman’s cooking for a change.”

  “Then I’ll give you the women’s names and you can call on them,” Wyatt admonished, taking a swig of his drink.

  Gus rolled his eyes. “And end up hog tied to one of ’em? No, thanks. You’re used to a woman, and since Miss Beatrice has been gone a year, maybe you should consider one of these fine ladies who are cooking you casseroles.”

  Wyatt set his glass down and considered his friend. Funny how a man who’d never married could give him advice on finding a woman. “The problem is that none of them interest me.”