A Cowboy Christmas

by Janette Kenny

  “How’d he end up owning land nearly on top of us?”

  She smiled. “Inheritance from his father,” she said. “Kenton and his wife planned to move to Wyoming after Thomas was born, but she died in childbirth.”

  A commiserating pang of empathy burst within him, for his mother had died giving him life as well. God knows what would’ve happened to him if Kirby hadn’t taken him in and given him a home.

  Dammit, he’d screwed up in Laramie and cost Kirby and his foster brothers grief. He wasn’t about to fail Dade and Trey again.

  “This doesn’t change anything,” he told her. “Erston can make all our lives hell, and he isn’t above bringing trouble down on Kenton Pearce again.”

  Her troubled eyes lifted to his, and her bosom expanded with the ragged breath she took. “I know that, but I still can’t marry you, Reid.”

  Whoa. He hadn’t expected a flat-out refusal, especially after she’d sneaked into his room last night.

  Reid leaned back in his chair and worried his lower lip with a thumb and forefinger. Something here just wasn’t adding up right.

  “You mean you don’t want to marry me,” he said.

  “There’s little difference.”

  “There you’re wrong.” Reid hadn’t wanted to marry Cheryl either, but Erston had him over a barrel. “Listen, I’m not about to force you into my bed, but we have to make a show at it. Once the ranch is in our names, we can step back and change things.”

  “I don’t care about the ranch,” she said.

  “Don’t say that.”

  He drove his fingers through his hair and winced. Dammit, he couldn’t lose the ranch, not when he was this close to reclaiming his home, not when he had a chance now to right the wrongs he’d done.

  “It won’t be that bad,” he said.

  She shook her head and got to her feet. “I’m so sorry, but I just can’t go through with it,” she said. “I never meant to cause you harm. Please believe me.”

  Reid stared at her, welcoming the anger building in him. He’d been promised this ranch if he married her. Now she was trying to back out of the deal.

  Hell! Reid cradled his head, certain it was going to explode from pain instead of resentment.

  “We agreed to marry, Cheryl,” he said. “There’s no backing out now.”

  “Things have changed, Reid. I can’t marry you.” She flicked him a pitying glance that he found mighty damned annoying considering she’d just cool-as-you-please jerked the rug out from under him.

  Reid pressed the heels of his hands to his aching head and wondered if he should just chuck it all. But he couldn’t.

  There was more at stake here than owning a chunk of land.

  Reid settled on a different tactic to get her to see reason. “Cheryl, I know you’ve got an eye for Kenton Pearce—”

  “We’re lovers,” she said.

  Holy hell! He hadn’t expected her to own up to sleeping with Pearce. But at least he understood her reluctance now. Not that it changed one damn thing.

  He realized she was staring at him with expectant eyes, clearly waiting for him to comment on her confession. “I’m not one to judge, Cheryl. But I do expect you to honor your vows while we’re married.”

  “You’re serious,” she said, seeming shocked by that.

  “Yep. The wedding takes place on Christmas Day at the ranch, or as soon after as the preacher can get here.”

  She clutched her hands to her bosom and backed away from him. “I won’t do it, Reid. I won’t agree to it.”

  “Calm down, Cheryl,” he said. “Just hear me out. Once we marry—”

  “No—”

  “Look at it as a business deal,” he went on. “Hell, we can divorce in one year.”

  Her eyes bugged. “Are you mad? I am not going to marry you for a minute, much less a year.”

  “If you’re fretting over the scandal of a divorce—”

  “I’m not, because I won’t marry you, ergo I won’t divorce you. What part of that don’t you understand?”

  “You’re being bullheaded,” Reid said, his patience shot to hell and his nerves fraying to fringe along with it. “Look, nobody but us will know if the marriage is consummated. We stay married long enough to force Erston out, then we part ways. You’ll always have your share of the ranch, but you’ll be free to go off with Pearce.”

  “That’s it, isn’t it? You’re willing to do anything to gain the title to this ranch.”

  “It’s my home, and I’ve never made a secret that I wanted it,” he said.

  But he held back admitting he was being blackmailed by Erston. That if he failed to marry Cheryl, he’d lose his share of the Crown Seven and the thoroughbreds.

  A slow burn of anger kindled in him at the thought. Those horses were his. He’d worked his ass off to buy them from Kirby over the span of five long years. He’d been careful with his breeding program so he’d get top dollar off them. He damn sure wasn’t going to hand them over to Burl Erston now.

  Cheryl sent him a commiserating smile. “I do regret that my decision makes it more difficult for you to achieve what you want—”

  “It makes it impossible.” Desperation curdled in his gut. “Marry me as we’d agreed, Cheryl. That’s not asking too much of you.”

  “Yes, it is,” she said with more heat than he thought her capable of, and then in a hushed voice added, “I am with child.”

  Ah, hell, he couldn’t have heard her right. “You’re what?”

  “I am carrying Kenton Pearce’s child and I will not cheat him of his heir or have our child stigmatized so you can gain title to this ranch. Now do you understand?”

  Reid clenched his jaw so hard his head hurt, understanding all too well. Not only would Pearce hate him for doing it, the child might come to resent him later on.

  He swore long and hard as the only option he could live with loomed before him. Hell, he was going to fail his brothers again. He was going to lose his hold on his dream.

  Cheryl worried her hands and stared off over the snow-crusted plains for the longest time.

  “Does Erston know?”

  “Unfortunately, yes,” she said. “He’s threatened physical harm to Kenton if I balk.”

  Yet she was prepared to risk all. Hell, he wouldn’t be surprised to learn Erston had fired that shot that had hit Reid. He’d suspected all along it had been intended for the sheepherder. He’d simply assumed a cattleman was responsible.

  “This will have to be handled carefully to outwit your guardian,” he said at last.

  She sighed. “We feared we’d have to elope. After the fact he can’t do anything to stop us. But I’m worried about you as well. This decision hasn’t come easily.”

  Few touchy ones did.

  “I’ve got an idea,” Reid said. “You’ll have to trust me, Cheryl. Do exactly what I say without balking.”

  He felt her gaze burn into him for the longest time, assessing him maybe. Trying to gauge whether to put her faith in him or not.

  “Can you do that?” he asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  Reid had promised Kirby he’d see that Cheryl got her share.

  But to make that happen, he’d have to betray his brothers again. He’d begged them to come here and partner with him.

  Now if they came, he’d be gone. And so would their claim to the Crown Seven.

  Chapter 16

  Reid was midway to the corral when he heard the jarring ring of bells. He looked up the drive and caught sight of a sleigh nearing the ranch, traveling too damned fast.

  In moments, Burl Erston skidded past him and managed to bring the sleigh to a jarring stop, hauling back on the lines with brute force. The horse scrambled to regain his footing and tossed his head, seeming to favor a foreleg.

  Reid ground his teeth and stomped toward the Englishman. Nothing pissed him off as much as a man mistreating a horse.

  “If I catch you overdriving my horses again,” Reid said, blocking Erston’s e
xit from the sleigh, “you’ll live to regret it.”

  Erston looked down his hooknose at him. “You’re a bit touchy about a mere beast of burden.”

  “In the West, a man’s life could depend on his horse.”

  “Ah, how I’ve missed your quaint adages this past year.”

  “Cut the bull, Erston.” He stared at the frail man sitting beside Erston. “Who’re you?”

  “Thaddeus Arch, Baptist circuit rider.”

  “He missed the eastbound train, so I made it worth his while to delay his journey,” Erston said. “The wedding will take place tomorrow.”

  Damn the man for pushing the issue. “Why the rush?”

  “There is no reason to delay things any longer.” Erston’s beady gaze challenged him to argue. “Besides that, the reverend would like to be on his way east before Christmas Day.”

  Instinct spurred Reid to argue the point, but he reined in the impulse. For once Erston was right. There was no earthly reason to put the wedding off for a few more days when they could get this over with sooner.

  He damn sure wanted his tie to Erston severed soon.

  “Then the wedding will take place tomorrow,” he said. “But that has no bearing on my deadline to buy you out.”

  Erston smiled. “Indeed not. If you can get your hands on that much money in short order.”

  Reid walked off without bothering to reply. Time was too short to stand around jawing to a man he didn’t have anything more to say to now.

  Nope, he’d have it out with the Englishman tomorrow after the wedding.

  A spirited whicker echoed from the paddock. His gaze fixed on the thoroughbreds milling around in the snow, their coats shimmering like velvet and clouds puffing from their nostrils.

  He’d like nothing more than to continue the breeding program he’d started. Instinct told him that he had contenders in his herd.

  But even though Erston gave him, Dade and Trey time to reclaim their shares, Reid would still have to part with the horses to buy the bastard out.

  Reid fingered his watch from his vest pocket and thumbed open the lid. He’d have just enough time to visit Pearce’s spread, then double back to Maverick.

  He had to send off a wire again to Mr. Fitzmeyer—a horse breeder of high reputation outside Sedalia, Missouri.

  When Reid met the man in England a year back, the horse breeder had expressed interest in Reid’s stock. He’d promised that he’d pay top dollar whenever Reid was willing to sell.

  He hoped to hell that offer still held.

  In moments he’d saddled Kaw and swung into the saddle. A glint from the back of the house caught his eye.

  Ellie Jo. She tossed something out in the snow, probably another meal gone wrong.

  His mouth hitched up in a grin as he reined Kaw down the lane. He could get used to having her scorch his meals if she’d promise to heat up his bed every night.

  Ellie watched Reid ride off until he was no more than a speck on the horizon and she was shivering from being out in the cold for so long. She hurried back into the house and headed toward the cooking range that defied her at nearly every turn.

  She’d debated about attempting to fry a game hen for Sunday supper, but since the only thing she’d been able to prepare with a degree of success was soup, she set to work utilizing the stock from lunch to make a succotash of sorts.

  It was thick and well seasoned, though the noodles had cooked to death. Just as well, she thought, since they weren’t that appetizing.

  Sinkers, her pa would’ve called them. They’d certainly done just that when she tossed them into the snow a bit ago, melting a path all the way to the bare ground.

  She stood at the stove and rolled her shoulders, but the tension was bone deep. What a strange course her life had suddenly taken.

  Up until six months ago, she and Irwin had faithfully attended church services on Sunday morning, then he’d take her to his family’s house for dinner. It was a very tense affair, with mother Framer being critical of everything Ellie said.

  At times, her future mother-in-law’s opinion even extended to the size of the mutton sleeves on her blouse, or the decreased padding in her bustle, or the loose bun she wore atop her head, which was coming in vogue.

  As mother Framer endlessly explained to Ellie, a banker’s wife must always present a reserved image. In short, Irwin’s mother expected Ellie to be a replica of her.

  Ellie had her own mind and knew how to use it, though she’d pushed her niggling worries aside. Her error.

  She’d thought that by trying to heed to the Framers’ wishes, Irwin and his mama alike, she’d become part of a normal family. That she’d find love.

  Well, if the Framers were normal, Ellie wanted nothing to do with them. She’d been honest with Irwin, and look where that had gotten her.

  Scorned. Tossed aside like yesterday’s garbage.

  Why, Irwin and his mother had succeeded in painting a figurative red letter on her back for all to see.

  She counted herself lucky that the gossip was confined to Denver. Still, she was careful to keep her new position at the Falsmonte Ladies Academy in California secret for fear Irwin and his mother would deem it their duty to inform Mrs. Halsey she was the daughter of a notorious outlaw.

  If she lost that job, she didn’t know what she’d do.

  Hubert trudged into the kitchen, his face more dour than usual. “Mr. Erston has returned, accompanied by Reverend Arch.”

  She paused in paring a potato. “Then the preacher will be a guest through Christmas Day?”

  “Actually, no,” Hubert said. “The wedding date has changed.”

  “When is it to take place?” she asked, suspecting it would be far too soon.

  Hubert gave a disapproving look. “Tomorrow.”

  She gaped, wondering how in the world she’d be able to prepare a wedding feast in such short order, wondering too how she’d be able to watch Reid marry Cheryl Morris.

  “Is something amiss?” Hubert asked.

  She shook her head, refusing to admit her heart was breaking. “I was just thinking of all I need to do tonight.”

  Which was a lie. Her thoughts centered entirely on Reid’s bold invitation to come to his room tonight.

  The audacity of the man to suggest such a thing on the eve of his wedding, with a houseful of guests.

  Anger bubbled within her, but not all of it was directed at Reid. No, she was just as angry at herself for considering it, for this would surely be her last chance to lie in his arms.

  All she had to do was sneak down the hall in the dead of night to satisfy her desire. She’d have a beautiful memory to hold the rest of her days of the one man she couldn’t resist.

  The afternoon westbound train had just pulled out when Reid rode into Maverick. He left Kaw at the livery and trudged down the boardwalk toward the depot.

  Folks wreathed with smiles bustled along, their arms laden with packages. Children pressed their noses to the window of the mercantile, oohing and ahing over the toys on display.

  Reid snorted and moved on. He hadn’t known such things existed until he, Dade and Trey had run away from the Guardian Angel’s Orphan Asylum when they were twelve.

  That first winter they’d lived on the streets was an eye-opener for them, for though Dade had lived with his pa in the real world for five years, it’d been a poor existence.

  The three of them had bonded in the orphanage though, forming a family of sorts that included Dade’s little sister. But it wasn’t long until she was adopted, and the boys faced the cruel fact that few folks wanted to take in half-grown boys.

  Reid wasn’t about to be apprenticed out to some tradesman. He wanted to be a cowboy, and his foster brothers felt the same.

  Escaping the orphanage wasn’t hard. Even hopping a train headed west proved easy enough, thanks to the help of an old hobo who showed them the ropes.

  But living on the streets by their wits hardened them. Still, he could still recall that night b
efore Christmas when they’d stood in the cold outside a fancy store in St. Louis, captivated by the toys in the window and proving they were still boys at heart.

  He’d had his eye on the set of carved horses, each one so realistic he could almost imagine owning such a fine herd one day.

  Now he did.

  And now he had to sell them to realize another dream.

  He stamped the snow off his boots and pushed inside the depot. Old Dan looked up and smiled at him through his window.

  “What brings you into town?” Dan asked.

  “Need to send another telegram to Missouri.”

  He took his time with the wire intended for Mr. Fitzmeyer and handed it to old Dan, along with the couple of dollars it cost to send it. “I’m spending the night at the Roost, so if Fitzmeyer replies, I’d appreciate you letting me know right away.”

  “I’ll surely do that,” Dan said, casting him an odd look before tapping out the message.

  Reid headed out the door, suspecting word of his marriage tomorrow had spread through town. He had no desire to accept congratulations or condolences for getting leg shackled.

  Folks would find out the truth soon enough.

  He turned his collar up against the stiff wind and trudged through the muck and snow to the boardwalk. The harmonizing of a carol came from up ahead, but it failed to lighten his mood, for unless he trumped Burl’s hand, he didn’t have a damned thing to celebrate.

  Yet here he was, fixing to hope for the best. The bell over the door tinkled as he stepped inside the mercantile.

  The apple-cheeked owner’s welcoming smile wavered just a fraction. “Afternoon, Mr. Barclay. I understand congratulations are in order.”

  “Wedding isn’t till tomorrow.”

  He moved to the glass counter where an array of jewelry was displayed. He’d put off buying a ring for Cheryl, and he regretted it. She deserved that much from him.

  “What can I get for you?” the shopkeeper asked.

  He pointed at a tray. “What have you got in wedding rings?”

  “I have several fine rings, from simple gold bands to ones set with diamonds.” She set the tray before him and pointed to the row of rings. “Diamonds signify true love.”