A Cowboy Christmas

by Janette Kenny

  “You’re spoiling that boy,” the shopkeeper said.

  Reid snorted. “Not likely.”

  Ellie glanced around the store, but she didn’t see hide nor hair of a child. Until she glanced outside.

  A boy of ten, if he was a day, stood on the boardwalk looking in, his sack coat hanging on his thin frame and his bare hands fisted up in the sleeves. His cheeks were red from the cold, but his light eyes were fixed on the tall cowboy inside the store.

  “Word got out that you’ve been helping him and his ma,” the shopkeeper said. “There’s been more talk.”

  “Let their tongues wag. They need help, and I can give it. Simple as that,” Reid said.

  “God will surely shine on you, Reid Barclay,” the shopkeeper said.

  “He’ll likely send me straight to hell.” He hefted the large box of provisions and caught Ellie’s rapt gaze, but he simply nodded to the door. “Time we got on our way.”

  “Of course.” She opened the door for him, then preceded him through when he chose now to stand on manners.

  But she stepped aside in time to see him pass a small sack to the street urchin. “Make that last you, boy.”

  “I will! Thank you, sir,” the boy said.

  “There’s provisions in the store for your family,” Reid said. “You see your ma eats her fill.”

  “She will, Mr. Barclay,” the boy said. “Ma is cooking up a storm on that new range.”

  “That’s good.” He tousled the boy’s sandy hair. “Get on inside with you and collect that parcel.”

  “Yes, sir.” The boy barged inside without a backward glance.

  “That was a wonderful thing you did,” she said.

  He slid her an impatient nod toward the sleigh. She sensed he didn’t want accolades for doing a good turn.

  As he stowed their provisions in the sleigh, she was tempted to get in on her own. But he surprised her again.

  Strong hands bracketed her waist, the thumbs pointing up to graze the underside of her breasts. Fire licked through her and she gasped as if truly burned by his touch.

  He picked her up as if she weighed nothing, taking his own sweet time. Or at least time seemed to stand still for her before she felt the footboard beneath her.

  Ellie was rendered speechless with the strength in Reid’s hands. Hands that could bring pleasure to a woman. Hands that weren’t immune to fighting. Hands that had known work.

  The sleigh dipped as Reid climbed up and sat beside her. He surprised her by spreading a heavy buffalo robe over his lap and hers.

  Those knowing midnight-blue eyes held a mixture of censure and amusement. But Ellie wasn’t fooled.

  Pa was from the old school. Why if he knew the liberties Irwin had taken with her, he’d likely track down the man she’d planned to marry and give him jesse. If he saw the way she was comporting herself with Reid Barclay…

  His long, strong thigh stretched alongside hers like a fire-warmed log, and his hotter-than-an-ember hip pressed to hers. A delicious heat spread through Ellie.

  She had absolutely no trouble imagining how well they’d fit together as man and woman. But what shocked her was how much she wanted to feel Reid’s body pressed to hers with nothing between them.

  Those were dangerous thoughts that could destroy her plans to start a new life in California. She’d never considered her wayward wants would be the obstacle to overcome.

  She caught herself from leaning into the heat of him. Adhering to propriety would be a challenge around this man, especially since her thoughts seemed to stray into the dangerous and forbidden and he was a deliciously warm temptation she longed to cuddle up to.

  Ellie listened to the steady ring of sleigh bells and focused on the reasons she’d agreed to take over Mrs. Leach’s position. Nothing like reality to chill these inappropriate thoughts of her boss.

  “How long will it take to reach the ranch?” she asked as they left the town of Maverick behind them.

  “Better part of an hour.”

  Sixty minutes of sharing a buffalo blanket with Reid would test her endurance. There was nobody but her and Reid and miles upon miles of unbroken snow. Nobody would know if they held to propriety. Nobody but her conscience.

  She’d failed to listen to it before. She vowed not to make that mistake again.

  Though sitting close to him warmed her, she shifted to keep a respectable distance between them.

  “You all right?” he asked.

  She was chilled and nervous and so very lonely. “Just fine, Mr. Barclay,” she said, and willed her teeth not to clatter.

  “You can call me Reid,” he said in that low, sultry tone that made her insides tingle.

  A twinge of unease passed through her. He likely thought she’d offer him the same freedom to address her informally. But dropping those strictures could lead to loosening of other principles.

  She’d made that mistake once. She wouldn’t do it again.

  Still, she had to trot forth a suitable reply that wouldn’t offend. “Perhaps once we become better acquainted.” Which wouldn’t happen because she’d be leaving after the holidays.

  “Fair enough.”

  They lapsed into an easy silence after that. Ellie fairly bubbled with excitement over seeing her pa again. But she carried a good case of nerves as well. She only hoped that the recipe book she’d purchased would guide her should Mrs. Leach’s receipts fail her.

  She fixed her gaze on the snow-packed plains stretching out toward the bruised ridge of the mountains in the distance. It seemed she’d been staring at the same vista for ages.

  “How do you keep from getting lost out here?” she asked.

  The ghost of a smile teased his ruggedly handsome face. “As long as it’s not snowing, there are landmarks to guide me.”

  She glanced at the sky that threatened more snow and prayed it would hold off. “What if it starts snowing again?”

  He caught her gaze with his solemn one. “Then we hope my instincts are right.”

  Not a terribly reassuring answer, especially when the first fat flakes began falling. When the wind gusted and blew the snow right at them, she squirmed with the beginning twinges of panic.

  She huddled into her hooded cloak and stuck her gloved hands up her sleeves. Still the chill seeped into her bones, for the brick at her feet had grown cold and the miniscule space between her and Reid seemed larger.

  Out of necessity, she scooted close until the solid length of his body bumped hers. She saw nothing ahead but a wall of white. Even the sleigh bells sounded dull.

  Just when she feared they were lost and would freeze to death, the snow stopped. The sun broke through the clouds as the sleigh popped over a rise and the ranch spread into view. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but it certainly wasn’t the patchwork of corrals and buildings of various sizes and descriptions.

  The two-story stone house was far grander than she’d expected to find in Wyoming, let alone a ranch. The design was distinctly Italianate, reminiscent of the mansions in Denver.

  Bathed in the afternoon sun, it looked like a square-cut topaz set amid a stark white cloud. A true jewel of the high prairie, fitting for a prosperous rancher.

  Ellie straightened from her huddled pose as Reid angled the sleigh around to the back porch. This must be the servants’ entrance, though the open terrace was larger than the front porch hanging on her uncle’s home and looked twice as inviting. Wouldn’t that man have a conniption fit if he knew what she was doing here?

  She wouldn’t be here long enough for her uncle to ever know. Which was just as well.

  Her uncle would like nothing better than to see Ellie’s pa hang, for he believed his sister deserved better than marrying a Missouri farmer. When her pa turned outlaw, her uncle’s dislike turned to abhorrence. If she lived to be an old woman, she’d never understand such hatred.

  Ellie welcomed Reid’s help down and hoped her numb feet and legs would carry her inside. She took the satchel he handed her with
fingers that were stiff with the cold.

  Reid grabbed her trunk and carried it up the steps. “Hubert will see that you’re settled in, but if you need anything, just ask.”

  “I will.”

  She followed, leery of accepting anyone’s help so soon after arriving. Until she spoke with her pa, she didn’t know who she could trust.

  The half-glass back door swung open, and a small wiry man of advanced years glanced from her to Reid. “Who, may I ask, is this woman?”

  “E.J. Cade. Mrs. Leach’s friend.” Reid inclined his head the old man’s way. “This is Hubert, butler and all-around nosy parker.”

  The butler’s face remained impassive as he treated her to a quick inspection. So much for being friendly.

  “This way, Mrs. Cade,” Hubert said.

  “It’s miss,” she said.

  “Of course. Do forgive me for addressing you as one does the elevated female staff in England.” An odd smile flickered over Hubert’s face as he turned and walked into the house.

  Ellie expected she would be given the room off the kitchen, but Hubert strode down the hall to a narrow rear staircase into the kitchen. She caught a glimpse of Reid pounding up the stairs with her trunk on his back as if it weighed nothing.

  She wanted to follow now, for Reid would surely deposit her trunk and be gone about his own business. She wasn’t ready to part company with him so quickly, though she should. But Hubert moved at his own pace which was slower than slow.

  To dart around him would be horribly rude. So she schooled her eagerness and waited in the hall that was at least warm.

  “This way,” Hubert said at last, his features curiously benign as he stood at the bottom of the stairs.

  “After you,” she said when she heard heavy boots pound down steps on the other side of the wall—likely Reid going about his business.

  Hubert hesitated a moment, then mounted the stairs in that same metered cadence that chafed her nerves. He opened the first door they came to and stepped aside to wave her in.

  “Your chamber, Miss Cade.”

  “Thank you.”

  Ellie stepped into a compact room complete with a bed, dresser and armoire. Reid did an injustice by calling it adequate.

  Why, it was far larger than the room she’d grown up in at her uncle’s house. It was far more welcoming than her cramped garret room at the boarding house. And all this light!

  Windows on two walls gave her a good view of the ranch outbuildings and lent the room a spacious feel.

  She set her satchel down beside her trunk and crossed to the windows, thinking this vista surely rivaled any Christmas postcard she’d seen. “It’s a beautiful sight.”

  “It has a certain rustic charm,” Hubert said. “You’ll find the kitchen in relatively good order. When Mrs. Leach was away, I availed myself of the facilities, though I am not adept in the kitchen.”

  That made two of them.

  “I’m sure I’ll manage.” Though she knew she’d need a good deal of luck when she prepared her first meal tonight.

  “If you require meat or game,” Hubert said, “inform me and I’ll send word to Moss.”

  “Moss?”

  “The mess-hall cook,” he said.

  Ellie heaved a sigh of relief as she pulled the pin from her hat and set it on the dressing table. At least she wouldn’t be expected to cook for a crew of hungry cowboys.

  “Are you from England, Hubert?”

  “Indeed. I was born in the Cotswolds.”

  “What brought you to Wyoming?” she asked.

  “My former employer, Kirby Morris,” Hubert said, and turned somber. “Would you care to inspect the kitchen?”

  “I’d love to.” She tucked up a few stray hairs that had escaped her bun, then followed the little man down the stairs.

  The abrupt change in subject confirmed he didn’t wish to say more about Mr. Morris. Ellie understood, for she’d never been one to talk about her past either. She’d divulged her secret once to her fiancé, and that brought about the end of her engagement and got her promptly dismissed from the Denver Academy for Young Ladies.

  Still, her curiosity was peaked about Kirby Morris and how his very British butler ended up being in Reid’s employ.

  She paused once at the bottom and tried to place the low hum of masculine voices deeper in the house. She couldn’t make out the words, but she recognized Reid’s voice. Who was the other man?

  “Your domain, miss,” Hubert said, and she was obliged to join him into the kitchen.

  “It’s lovely.” An understatement.

  Though Ellie was a virtual stranger in a kitchen, she certainly appreciated the light pouring in the bank of windows. The cooking range was monstrous, larger than the impressive one her uncle had bought for his home. How she’d love to be able to cook appetizing meals on this stove.

  Hubert opened a door along the back wall. “The pantry was recently stocked with essentials, though you may find it lacking certain items of import.”

  Ellie stepped inside and gazed up at the tins and boxes of dry goods. A large flour bin took up the width along one wall. She ran a hand over the smooth tin surface, marveling it was as shiny as a mirror.

  A door banged deep in the house, and a man’s string of curses carried clear into the pantry. “If I get my hands on that sonofabitch, I’ll string him up. Hubert!”

  “Coming, sir.” The old man sighed. “Excuse me.”

  The butler left, and she stood there gawking at the door as curses continued to fill the house. Reid sounded livid. What in the world had happened?

  Ellie hurried across the kitchen and paused at the door that opened onto the main hall. She looked down it, but didn’t see anyone. The torrent of foul oaths appeared to come from a room near the front of the house. Common sense told her that was likely where Reid’s ranch office was located.

  She certainly didn’t want to get caught touring the house, and strolling down the main hall would likely do just that. A door to her right stood open, so she stepped inside.

  Of course. The servants’ entrance to the dining room. A long, dark table and more chairs than she cared to count dominated the spacious area. Her stomach pitched at the thought of satisfying so many palates.

  She walked the length of the room, Reid’s curses becoming clearer. His office must be next to this room, and he must’ve expended his anger because the house suddenly fell silent.

  Ellie peeked out the other door into the main hall. Across from her, pocket doors were open to reveal a very formal parlor dressed in the richest looking brocades she’d ever seen.

  She cocked her head. All she heard was the pounding of her heart and the metered ticking of a clock. She inched into the hall, her fingers sliding along the smooth paneled walls to the half-shut door. A peek through the crack confirmed this was an office, and a well-appointed library as well. But was it empty?

  “I can’t believe this has happened,” Reid said, answering her unspoken question and sounding terribly close.

  Ellie crept back toward the dining room door, careful to be quiet. She certainly didn’t want to get caught eavesdropping.

  “Did anyone see who took the stallion?” Hubert’s question froze her in place.

  “Booth claims Ezra Kincaid was seen riding him hell-bent for thunder,” Reid said. “That old outlaw has got more guts than sense to pull a stunt like this.”

  Ellie’s jaw nearly dropped to the floor. She ducked into the dining room and flattened her spine against the door. Her mind reeled with what she’d just overheard.

  This made no sense to her. According to Mrs. Leach, her pa was here to exact revenge on the cowboy who framed him for murder years ago. Why in the world would he draw attention to himself by doing something as stupid as stealing Reid’s horse?

  Chapter 3

  Reid stilled, catching a faint whiff of lilacs. Just like in the saloon, the swift warming of his blood left him a mite lightheaded.

  So did the woman. Ellie must b
e close for her scent to reach out to him and glide over his skin, stroking, teasing and tempting. Feminine, yet unmistakably bold.

  Yep, she was a daring one to march into Mallory’s Roost because he was late to fetch her from the depot, and just as audacious to come near Reid’s office when he was throwing a shit fit. Her boldness intrigued him, but it was her hint of wide-eyed innocence that gave him pause.

  Sure as shooting she was the type woman who was trouble for a man like him. Hadn’t Mrs. Leach told her that she was to mind her own business while she was here?

  He whipped around to ask her that, but Miss Cade was nowhere to be seen. That didn’t ease his mind none. She may not be near, but she’d gotten an earful.

  He met Hubert’s calculating eyes. The old man was like a hawk, always keeping an eye on him.

  Though he couldn’t prove it, he suspected Hubert kept Burl Erston apprised of what he was doing here at the ranch. If Reid didn’t tow the line, Kirby’s cousin would make good his threat and bring a heap of trouble crashing down on the two men Reid considered brothers.

  “You get Miss Cade settled?” he asked Hubert.

  “Indeed. I was introducing her to her domicile when you commenced bellowing.”

  “Reckon my voice carried.”

  “Like a bugle on the wind, sir.”

  Reid winced. He hadn’t intended to vent his anger where his new cook could overhear. But she had, and if his suspicions were right, she’d eavesdropped on the rest of what had been said.

  “Forgive me, sir, but are you certain this Ezra Kincaid stole Cormac?”

  Being reminded that his prize stallion had been rustled from under his nose had Reid close to stomping mad again. “Middling so. Booth claims Frank Arlen saw the old outlaw riding off on the sorrel.”

  “How convenient Mr. Arlen happened by to witness the thievery.”

  The same thought had crossed his mind as well. “Booth said Arlen came around looking for work again. He was let go at the spread north of here that he’d been working.”

  “I’m not surprised.”

  Neither was Reid. Arlen had two streaks of lazy running down his spine.