“Walk faster.” Benedict shoved her, knocking her to her knees. “It’s freezing.”
If they didn’t find shelter soon, she’d be a solid block of ice. Already her feet, face, and hands were numb. She struggled to her feet and trudged forward.
Finally, she caught a glimpse of a ramshackle building through the trees. It didn’t look as if it would provide much shelter, but it had to be better than being out in the open.
“Start a fire,” Benedict ordered. “Once I warm up, I have a letter to deliver.”
She fought to get her cold fingers to cooperate. At least, the stone fireplace had a good stock of kindling. After several tries, a flame of lifesaving fire flickered among the wood. She glared up at Benedict. “I hope you freeze out there.”
He laughed. “You’d like that, I’m sure.” He held his hands over the blaze. “It would be a fitting end to my unsavory life.” Shrugging, he turned his back to the fire.
Phoebe tilted her face away from him, refusing to say anything further. He didn’t deserve her attention or her conversation. Instead, she pulled out the letter she’d retrieved from the Bible and read,
My Dearest Phoebe,
I hope the dress and the gift it contains bring you much joy after my end. I want you to have the opportunity to pursue your dreams. Life is such a fleeting thing.
My son will not be pleased once he discovers what I’ve bequeathed to you. He’s quite the scoundrel. I’ve left him a monthly allowance that will allow him to live quite comfortably for the rest of his life if he can stay away from the gaming tables.
Take care and reside in God’s love, my dear. Do not be sad upon my passing. I’ve gone to be with my heavenly Father.
Lovingly,
Ida Rochester
Phoebe blinked back tears and clutched the letter to her bosom. She missed her dear friend.
“What’s that?” Benedict grabbed the paper. His face darkened as he read the few words. With a curse, he wadded it up and tossed it into the fire. “Those diamonds are rightfully mine. I’ll return in an hour.” He tied her hands and feet in front of her.
She closed her eyes and prayed for protection for her and Alex.
*
Alex glanced up from his work. Phoebe had been gone a lot longer than she should have.
Outside, snow fell, covering the world in white and decreasing visibility. Perhaps she’d become engrossed in conversation with one of the other Angel Vale angels at the mercantile.
No. She’d said she would return quickly.
He blew out the lantern and, not bothering to grab a coat, dashed to the mercantile.
“Alex,” Jake said. “Your wife said you’d come for the crate. I’ve got it right back here.”
“Is Phoebe here?” He glanced around the shop.
“She left an hour ago. Wasn’t here more than five minutes.”
Alex’s blood chilled. Where could she have gone? He headed back into the snow, glancing up and down the street. No one moved. No one strolled the sidewalks. The cold and the snow kept everyone at home.
He whirled and headed back to the shop. A piece of paper fluttered from a nail pounded into the door. Ignoring the cold whipping to his bones, he read,
The diamonds for your wife. Put them in a box outside your door by noon or she dies.
Alex pulled out his pocket watch. Fifteen minutes! It would take longer than that to cut them from the dress. Trembling took over his body and he shoved open the door, stepping into the warmth of his shop.
There was no other way. He’d have to give away the entire dress. Surely, Phoebe would understand. He sagged against the counter. What if she was already dead?
He shook his head to pull himself out of his morbid thoughts and thundered up the stairs. Throwing open the chest, he pulled out the wedding gown and shoved it into one of the crates Phoebe used for storage. Rushing back outside, he set the box next to the door and withdrew to await further instructions.
Time ticked by with the speed of a tortoise crossing the road. The longer he waited, the more his hands trembled and his heart raced. Fifteen minutes came and went, then a half hour, an hour. What kind of game was Rochester playing?
What would Alex do if he didn’t get Phoebe back? He couldn’t contemplate the idea. He would find her.
He shoved his arms through his thick coat’s sleeves and stepped back into the winter snowstorm. Where should he begin to look? He pulled his collar as high on his neck as it would go and shoved his hands into his pockets before turning into the space between his shop and the mercantile.
The wind wasn’t as fierce between the buildings, nor the flurries as wild. Rochester sat against the wall of the mercantile, his hat pulled low over his face.
“What sick game are you playing?” Alex yanked off his hat.
The man didn’t move. The color of his skin told Alex he had been dead for most of the hour Alex had waited for him to show up. A lump on his forehead showed he must have slipped and hit his head, not regaining consciousness. Alex tossed the hat into his lap.
Where was Phoebe? Instead of relief at knowing Rochester couldn’t cause them any more grief, he was nearly overcome by fear at not knowing what fate had befallen the woman he loved.
He placed a hand against the wall to steady himself and took a deep breath. Why, God? He fell to his knees and prayed for guidance. When he glanced up, the snow had lessened and he caught a glimpse of smoke rising above the forest. Thank you, God.
A minute later, he dashed behind the buildings and into the trees. He ran until every breath was a sharp shard in his chest. To run sent pain through his legs. He didn’t stop until he burst through the door of a shack so rundown, he could see the flicker of a fire through cracks in the walls.
Inside, her shawl wrapped tightly around her head and shoulders, Phoebe slept on the dirty floor. Alex dropped to his knees and gathered her into his arms.
“Darling, wake up.” He caressed her cheek, thankful to find her skin warm to his touch. He untied her as quickly as his cold fingers would allow.
Her eyelids fluttered open. “You came.”
“I would have stormed the gates of hell to find you.” He kissed her, then lay his forehead against hers. “I love you, wife. I should have told you weeks, months ago. I’m a foolish man who doesn’t know the ways of women.”
She cupped his face. “No more a fool than I. I’ve known of my love for you since almost the first day. I thought it a husband’s place to say it first.” She smiled. “It seems I was right.”
“Can you walk? I’d like to get you home and get some hot food in you.”
“I’m perfectly fine. What happened to Benedict? Did you give him the diamonds?”
Alex shook his head. “I found him frozen to death between the shop and Underwood’s.”
“Poor Alice. He may have been a gambling scoundrel, but he was the only family she had left. I dread writing her of his death.”
“I’ll let the sheriff know once you’re home safe.” He scooped her into his arms. He didn’t release her until they stepped outside.
Thick clouds on the horizon told him the snow still fell fiercely in the outlying areas, but in town, the flakes now drifted in lazy dancing circles. Alex tucked Phoebe’s arm through his, keeping her close, and helped her home.
Once upstairs, he tucked her under the thick covers on the bed, and started water boiling for coffee. “I’m going to alert the sheriff about Rochester’s body. Don’t move out of that bed. I’ll be back soon.”
“
He kissed her. “I’ll be ready to join you in that warm bed when I return.”
Her cheeks turned a rosy shade of pink. “I hope so. I can think of ways to keep us warm.”
He laughed.
11
Phoebe woke early on Christmas morning and climbed slowly from bed, hoping not to awaken Alex. She smiled to see a small evergreen tree in a bucket of rocks on the table. When had the dear man had time to find a Christmas tree? Not only h
ad he found the tree, but he’d tied tiny white ribbons to the branches. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.
Her wedding gown, soiled and water-stained from being in a box outside while Alex searched for her, hung near the stove in a vain attempt to salvage it. The diamonds along the collar winked, adding their own decoration to the morning.
She opened her trunk and pulled out the leather book she’d wrapped in red flannel the night before, then placed it under the tree where something suspiciously similar in shape already nestled under the branches. The other package was wrapped in a piece of white cotton. Tied to a branch higher up was a small velvet pouch.
After stoking the stove, Phoebe set water on to boil, then wrapped her thick robe tighter around her and settled at the table to wait for the coffee. While she waited, she watched Alex sleep, his wheat-colored hair mussed from their love-making and sleep. Her heart leaped in her chest at the second gift she had to give him, if her calculations were correct.
He mumbled something, smiled, then rolled over, showing her his muscular back. He’d be embarrassed to know she watched him so intently.
The pot boiled over, alerting her that she could add the coffee grounds.
The sound woke Alex, who stretched. “Good morning, wife. Merry Christmas. Come back to bed.”
“I have to get our holiday meal started.” She flushed at the heated look in his eyes. “You’ll have to wait until later for me to join you.”
“Very well.” He tossed the blankets aside and stepped into a pair of clean britches. “Not my favorite way to start Christmas morning.”
She handed him a cup of coffee and planted a kiss on his cheek. “Hush, darling. Merry Christmas.”
He set the mug on the nightstand and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her back onto the bed with him. “You’re a conniving tease, woman.”
Giggling, she pushed against his chest. “I need to get the ham in the oven.”
“The ham can wait. I cannot.” He quieted her protests with his lips, only pulling back when she gasped for air. He ran his finger around her tingling lips. “I almost lost my mind yesterday, thinking I’d lost you. I’d never survive if that were to happen.”
She caressed his face. “I’m here for a long time, Alex. I have no desire to go anywhere unless I’m by your side.”
He leaned down to claim her lips once more. The ham was late getting into the oven.
After a simple breakfast of biscuits and sorghum molasses, Phoebe handed Alex her first gift. She smiled over the rim of her mug as he unwrapped it.
“A leather-bound sketchpad.” He ran his hand over the soft leather. “How in the world did you purchase this?”
“I bartered with Underwood. Do you like it?”
“Other than you, it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever held in my hands. Thank you. Your turn.” He handed her the other package.
Now that she felt it, she could tell it was something in a rather large frame. She removed the fabric and gazed upon the sketch of a house, complete with floor plan, tacked behind glass. She raised a questioning glance.
Alex grinned. “If you’re in agreement, that’s the home I’ll start building for you come spring. I designed it myself.” He untied the small pouch from the tree and handed it to her.
She opened it, pulling out the very necklace she had designed. Tears sprang to her eyes.
“The gifts are wonderful.” She reached across the table and grabbed his hand. “It’ll come in quite handy. I have another gift for you.” She grinned. “Unless I’m mistaken, come early fall, you’re going to be a papa.”
His eyes widened before he jumped to his feet and hurried to her side. He pulled her from her chair, his hands spanning her still thin waist. “Are you sure?”
“It’s early, but I’m pretty sure.” She entwined her hands around his neck. “Does the thought make you happy?”
“When I saw the advertisement in the paper about getting my very own Christmas Angel, I had no idea how much I needed you. I applied for purely selfish reasons, wanting mostly to see one of my rings on the finger of my bride, not only on the fingers of others.
“Phoebe, you truly are an angel, sent by God, to make me the happiest man on earth. You are so much more precious to me than the finest gold I could ever pull from the ground. Even more precious than the diamonds on your wedding gown.”
She rested her cheek against his. “I’m the one who is truly blessed. Merry Christmas, Alex. My love. By replying to that advertisement, you saved me from a life of lonely spinsterhood. Never had I thought God would give me a husband as kind and caring as you.”
The End
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www.cynthiahickey.com
Multi-published and Amazon Best-Selling author Cynthia Hickey had three cozy mysteries and two novellas published through Barbour Publishing. Her first mystery, Fudge-Laced Felonies, won first place in the inspirational category of the Great Expectations contest in 2007. Her third cozy, Chocolate-Covered Crime, received a four-star review from Romantic Times. All three cozies have been re-released as ebooks through the MacGregor Literary Agency, along with a new cozy series, all of which stay in the top 50 of Amazon’s ebooks for their genre. She has several historical romances releasing in 2013, 2014, 2015 through Harlequin’s Heartsong Presents, and has sold more than 300,000 copies of her works. Cynthia is a board member for CAN (Christian Authors Network). She is active on FB, twitter, and Goodreads, and is a contributor to Cozy Mystery Magazone blog and Suspense Sisters blog. Her and her husband run the small press, Forget Me Not Romances, which includes some of the CBA’s well-known authors. She lives in Arizona with her husband, one of their seven children, two dogs and two cats. She has five grandchildren who keep her busy and tell everyone they know that “Nana is a writer”. Visit her website at www.cynthiahickey.com
Enjoy other books by Cynthia Hickey
Nosy Neighbor Series
Anything For A Mystery, Book 1
A Killer Plot, Book 2
Skin Care Can Be Murder, Book 3
Death By Baking, Book 4
Jogging Is Bad For Your Health, Book 5
Poison Bubbles, Book 6
The Summer Meadows Series
Fudge-Laced Felonies, Book 1
Candy-Coated Secrets, Book 2
Chocolate-Covered Crime, Book 3
Maui Macadamia Madness, Book 4
All four novels in one collection
The River Valley Mystery Series
Deadly Neighbors, Book 1
Advance Notice, Book 2
The Librarian’s Last Chapter, Book 3
All three novels in one collection
See Cynthia’s other books at www.cynthiahickey.com
Historical Romances
Taming the Sheriff
Finding Love the Harvey Girl Way
Cooking With Love
Guiding With Love
Serving With Love
Warring With Love
A Wild Horse Pass Novel
They Call Her Mrs. Sheriff, book 1 (A Western Romance)
Finding Love in Disaster
The Rancher’s Dilemma
The Teacher’s Rescue
Woman of courage Series
A Love For Delicious
Ruth’s Redemption
Charity’s Gold Rush
Mountain Redemption
Short Story Westerns
Desert Rose
Desert Lilly
Desert Belle
Romantic Suspense
Overcoming Evil series
Mistaken Assassin
Captured Innocence
Mountain of Fear
Exposure at Sea
A Secret to Die for
Collision Course
Contemporary
Romance in Paradise
Maui Magic
Sunset Kisses
Deep Sea Love
Christmas
Handcarved Christmas
Curtain Calls and Christmas Wishes
Christmas Gold
A Christmas Stamp
The Reliable Cowboy
By Susan Page Davis
Copyright 2015 by Susan Page Davis
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means — electronic, electrical, chemical, mechanical, optical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise — without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.
Inquiries may be sent by email through www.susanpagedavis.com.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual people, organizations, and/or events is purely coincidental.
The Reliable Cowboy
Chapter One
June, 1877
Merville, Maine
“Maggie! Where are you?”
“Out here.”
Isabella Johnston followed her friend’s voice around to the back of the small house the Crain family rented. Maggie struggled with a wet linen sheet, draping it over the clothesline behind the cottage. A sharp wind blew in off the bay. Summer was on its way, but it never put down roots in Merville.
“Let me help you. Your hands must be freezing.” Isabella dropped her handbag on the back step and hurried to Maggie’s side.
“No sense two of us getting our hands chilled. Go in and fill the teapot. I’ll be along soon.”
“Hush!” Isabella grabbed a wet shirt from the wicker basket and pinned it tails up to the line. “Your men certainly make a lot of wash.”
Christmas Mail Order Angels: The complete 11 Volume Set Page 14