Christmas Mail Order Angels: The complete 11 Volume Set

by Darlene Franklin

  The man was too unbelievably wonderful.

  He’d said he would chose love over duty. Perhaps he would. And Aunty had been wrong about handsome men. At least Frank could be trusted. Perhaps she would stay and marry him.

  Loud explosions jolted her. Seemed the nerve-wracking noises came from Main Street.

  Were those gunshots? She flicked water off her hands and raced into the back door of the eatery. All the customers crowded together gazing out the front window. Frank’s overturned chair lay on the floor. Brenda stood at the window, Jamie on her hip.

  Amanda lifted her long skirts and sped to the window, but too many people congested the space. Even on tiptoe, she couldn’t see over their heads. She dashed to the front door. A string of new shots blasted outside.

  She opened the door and peeped out.

  Four horses thundered down the street toward the wilderness. One man lay in the packed dirt, arms flung wide.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Frank, a six-shooter in each hand, executed a flying leap, straddled Diablo, and kneed his horse into a gallop. He’d not had time to strap on an extra bandolier of bullets. He had only those left in his two guns and in his gun belt. He shoved the weapon he’d almost emptied into its holster. The gang robbing the gold assay office thundered down the street.

  An escaping thief fired over his shoulder targeting Frank.

  Frank lay low over Diablo’s withers. Diablo laid back his ears and stretched out into his fastest gallop.

  Already in rough country, one criminal’s horse stumbled and fell. The rider pitched head-first over the horse’s head, hit rocks, splayed on the ground, and didn’t move.

  Frank galloped past, intent on the two escaping riders. They separated, one bolting into the hills, the other speeding over the stage coach trail. He followed the trail.

  Easy to let the man go. Now he had a fiancée, a baby, and a cabin to think of. A bullet zinged past his ear. But his duty lay in catching these robbers and transporting them to justice. If he didn’t, Angel Vale would evolve into a goal for masses of thieves and gain a reputation for lawlessness.

  He aimed and took a careful shot. The bullet hit home, and the man slumped from the saddle.

  Frank pulled Diablo to a standstill, his gun on the thief. The man rolled over and raised an arm in the air. The other arm hung useless, blood flooding his shirt.

  Just a kid.

  Frank threw a lasso over the kid’s horse, leaped down from Diablo, and hoisted the wounded lad onto his horse. He tied the bandit’s good wrist to the pommel of his saddle, turned both horses and headed back toward Angel Vale.

  He’d have to track the other man. Might take him a day or two. Amanda would need to take full charge of Jamie, and building the cabin would have to wait.

  Hard to court his angel when he camped in the wilds. But he had to catch that other thief. Love would have to wait.

  ****

  Amanda learned the thief in the street was dead, his stiff hand clutching a bag of nuggets. The assayer took charge of the stolen gold. Townspeople melted back to their own daily tasks.

  Several men she didn’t know carted off the body. Perhaps they were undertakers.

  She alone stood in the middle of the street gazing after the out-of-sight riders. Nothing to see but empty, rough countryside.

  Oh Father, please keep Frank safe.

  She pulled her shawl closer around her shoulders and returned to the eatery to claim Jamie from Brenda.

  ****

  Midnight snuck in before Frank knocked on the shanty door and strode inside. She’d fallen asleep in the rocker, her heavy shawl as a covering, and listened, still half-asleep, to the tiptoeing of his boots on the wooden floor. The smell of outdoors and manhood permeated his clothes.

  Mm, no fishy odor clung to him. She drowsed, eyes half-open. Nothing of Maine. He was all clean outdoors.

  He lit a candle and crouched by her side. “I’ve got to track down the other robber. I locked his partner in jail. Brenda will see to the prisoner’s feeding and other needs.” He ran a caressing finger down her cheek.

  Now wide awake, she smiled at his warm touch. All her senses tingled with delight. Her cheek heated where his calloused finger caressed her.

  “Would you mind moving some of your things in here and caring for Jamie while I’m gone?”

  “Of course, I will.” Her voice still sounded thick with sleep.

  “I shouldn’t be gone more than a day or two.” He braced both hands on the rocker’s arms, leaned in, and kissed her lightly on the lips.

  Oh my! Beau had kissed her a number of times, but he’d never left her with the thrilling desire to have more that Frank’s kiss did. The man’s lips felt soft, and firm, and warm. And like everything else about him, absolutely masculine.

  Then he was gone.

  ****

  Amanda endured the endless wait, staying day and night in Frank’s shanty. She snuggled Jamie to her chest and grew more attached to his sweet baby ways by the hour.

  Frank had said more robbers blew into Angel Vale every day. Could she be more frightened for his safety if she loved him? Could her heart ache more? After he admitted he’d choose love over duty, she’d begun to dream that maybe God actually brought her to Angel Vale to be Frank’s wife and Jamie’s mother.

  But this awful pain, this spine-chilling waiting weren’t to be endured. She watched Brenda and several other ladies of somewhat dubious reputation meander around town with tear-streaked faces. Women she knew Frank had no thought for. Women he didn’t want Jamie to grow up around.

  She’d only known Frank two days. Perhaps what she felt for him was love. If it was, then love hurt. Hurt more than humiliation. Hurt more than loneliness. Hurt more than rejection. Hurt so much she didn’t want any part of love.

  Frank tore her heart out riding out into the wilderness alone chasing dangerous criminals. They carried rifles to his revolvers. His big black horse was swift. He’d catch the last thief, unless the outlaw ambushed him first and shot Frank.

  Oh Father God, I’m so frightened for him.

  She couldn’t let herself love him. She couldn’t stand the agony if he were killed. Just when she’d grown to trust and believe in him, she must make a clean break and leave both Frank and Jamie. He could send for another angel.

  She could not marry a sheriff.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Amanda bit her nails to the quick. Three weeks he’d been gone, and still no Frank. What if he were dead? What if she hadn’t arrived from Merville in time to love and care for Jamie? What would have happened to him? She snuggled the boy to her chest so fiercely he almost woke. Gently she toed the rocker into motion and hummed a lullaby. How long could she wait for Frank without going crazy?

  Where is he, Father?

  She and Jamie lived cozy and comfortable inside the shanty. She had everything she needed, thanks to Frank’s foresight and generosity.

  While he chased outlaws, she’d started selling her pies, home-baked breads, and cobblers—anything the folk of Angel Vale asked for. The money she earned put food on the table. She nourished Jamie and stood on her own two feet. Daily, she and Brenda toured the town pushing Jamie in the buggy. She made other friends. She carved out a new way of life in a new town.

  But what if Frank never returned? What if his body lay somewhere unburied out in the hills? She’d be devastated.

  On the other hand, if Frank did return…her heart beat in her throat, she’d have to live through this grueling, dreadful fear each time he tracked outlaws. But, oh she so wanted to see his dear, rugged face.

  His kiss sweetened her dreams, day and night. How she longed to feel those warm, tender lips on hers again. He loved her. No doubt of that. His last fleeting expression told her that he would die for her.

  But could she live with the terrifying knowledge that Frank could be murdered anytime—during a routine day or while tracking outlaws—

  A knock at the door, then cold air blew in with a spri
nkling of snowflakes.

  She leapt to her feet, almost dumping Jamie to the raw wooden floor. “Frank!”

  The wind slammed the door behind him.

  Alive. In one piece. Vivid with life and energy.

  She couldn’t help herself. She slid Jamie into his cradle and darted into Frank’s arms.

  He tilted her head back and cold lips melded onto hers sending fire through her body. When he stopped too soon, she thrust her arms around his neck and kissed him again. Her hands unbuttoned his heavy coat, and she pressed against the flannel shirt covering his muscular chest.

  “I wanted to make my way home before Thanksgiving.”

  “Oh, thank God, you did!” She raised her face. “Kiss me again.”

  He did. She melted.

  “So, you missed me? You’re glad to see me?”

  “Yes. Promise me you won’t ever leave like that again.”

  He dropped his arms, then slowly removed his sheep-skin coat. He plodded over to the fire, bent and rubbed his red hands near the flames. “I can’t promise that. Slapping outlaws behind bars is my job.” He hid his face, so she couldn’t read that quick emotion so readily masked by his Unreadable Sheriff’s Face. His square jaw stiffened, and his lips thinned.

  Heat flooded her body. Her hands trembled. So this was the point at which his Southern-Gentlemen-Duty overcame his love for her. She’d thought that conflict solved. Heat burned her face.

  He knelt in front of the crackling fire, prodded the logs with the iron poker, and mumbled, “Anything to eat?”

  She raced about scrambling up a hearty dinner. Let him eat. Then they’d talk about where his duty lay.

  His chocolate eyes in a gaunt, whiskered face showed exhaustion. He yawned.

  Very masculine. Very touching, but turning him into a stranger.

  Night closed in as she set corn bread and beans on the little table. A peach cobbler she’d just baked waited on the warming rack.

  The room grew rosy from the glow in the fireplace. She lit some candles.

  “Really nice to return home to a beautiful fiancée, a hot meal, and a happy baby. What more could a man want?”

  “I’m so glad you’re pleased.” After her first thrill at seeing him alive, heart-heaviness suffocated her. In Maine, she’d promised herself she would leave if Frank didn’t suit. But he did. Oh, he more than satisfied. He delighted her. She loved his sweet grin. Loved his protective ways. Loved his working so hard so they could share a home together. But there was this one thing. This one huge situation. This one obsession she couldn’t endure.

  “Is something wrong?”

  “I’m fine.” Of course she wasn’t.

  Was there always one abomination that tore couples apart? Frank was willing to work himself to death for her. Which she never had wanted. But the one action she desired above all else, he would not offer.

  Could she be strong enough to support him in his role as sheriff of Angel Vale?

  While he’d chased the lawbreaker, she’d discovered she was a strong woman, capable of living life on her own. Not beholden to any man. But everything inside her cried out to live life with Frank, as his wife, as the mother of his children, as his helper.

  She’d tried so hard not to, but she’d fallen in love.

  She hadn’t counted on the awful dread of his not returning. And by the obstinate expression on his face, Frank told her he loved his job with every fiber of his being. So, Frank wouldn’t give up his dangerous job.

  And she couldn’t live with his putting his life on the line.

  ****

  Thanksgiving came and went. Frank didn’t know how to mend their strained relationship. Amanda returned to the shanty each morning, and he walked her to the lodging house each night. He lived in confusion. Did she love him? She’d seemed so happy to see him that night he brought in the outlaw. Why was she so distant now?

  He escorted the two outlaws from his jail to Cheyenne, where the judge condemned them to long prison terms. Took him a week. Lots of red tape, and he had to testify at their trial.

  His life in Angel Vale settled down to work. On sunny days, he panned gold. But most days he labored day and night on the cabin he’d promised Amanda by Christmas. He planned to move her in Christmas morning after the circuit riding preacher pronounced them man and wife.

  But would she marry him?

  He’d asked her about the problem that separated them. His job stood directly in the way. She thought of it as duty. Maybe it was?

  Why did women worry so?

  He would die for Amanda, but give up his job? Could he? If he didn’t, would she forsake him? When he thought of her leaving, his heart stopped. His throat closed. His hands grew icy and he dropped the roof logs onto the wrong spot and had to pry the heavy logs up and start over.

  Would panning gold and building log cabins for other families bring in enough income to support them? Probably, but his heart hungered to keep the law-abiding citizens of Angel Vale safe. Men tipped their hats and gave respect to the man behind the badge. He needed the excitement of facing down law breakers and setting things right in his town. He was born to be sheriff. Up-holding the law was his God-given calling. If he quit he would surrender a big piece of who he was.

  Should he choose duty or love? He’d told Amanda he’d choose love, but the doing was far more difficult than the saying.

  If he chose duty, would she marry him anyway?

  On Christmas morning he would carry her over the threshold of their new cabin. Then, Lord willing, she would say yes, and they would stand before the preacher and he would marry her.

  He had to make a choice.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Amanda bundled into her warmest clothes. Outside white, sparkling snow drifted on the boughs of the Christmas tree the townfolk had decorated at the end of Main Street. She’d never seen anything so lovely as the moon shining on the snow-covered streets and surrounding countryside this Christmas Eve.

  Frank escorted her and carried Jamie to the Mercantile to sing carols along with most of the other Angel Vale residents. Her heart lifted. She loved singing carols. And Frank’s twinkling brown eyes, easy grin, and elated expression revealed that he loved to sing too, and that Christmas was a special time for him as well.

  Frank appeared relaxed for the first time since Thanksgiving when he’d chased the outlaw. They sat close together as the traveling preacher delivered an inspiring sermon. Frank folded her hand inside his.

  She smiled and squeezed his strong hand. Christmas truly was a blessed time. A time of giving. She so loved remembering how Jesus, though he was God of the universe, had come to earth in the form of a baby and been born in a lowly manger. Jesus offered Himself to every person who chose to receive His gift of eternal life. She loved giving gifts.

  With Frank sitting by her side, this Christmas Eve had been more than meaningful. She would store the wondrous time of this very special Christmas in her memory box.

  After the service, Frank, Jamie in his arms, tucked her hand in the crook of his arm, and they slogged through the snow to eat dinner at the Angel Vale Eatery. All the while her heart beat unbearably fast. Tomorrow morning they were to be married. And she had not yet given her answer to Frank.

  Inside, seated at their favorite table, Jamie sang da da, the only words he knew, as he tapped a spoon on the wooden tray of his high chair. He’d loved the carol singing and didn’t want to stop. Obviously one of his parents had been musical. Not Frank. Though he sang with gusto, the man couldn’t carry a tune.

  “This is our anniversary.” Frank’s caramel eyes gazed tenderly into hers. “I met you at dusk just three months ago, and I fell in love with you the moment you ran from Jake’s wagon and stared up into my face.” He reached across the table and cradled her hands in his. Candlelight glinted on mahogany highlights in his dark, wavy hair. His full lips turned up at the corners as if the two of them had not experienced the last, long difficult month of strained relationship.

&n
bsp; “My love, I’m resigning as sheriff of Angel Vale. I’ll build log cabins for the people who’ll flock into our town come spring. And you’ll make me the happiest man in the world if you’ll consent to be my wife.”

  How she’d longed to hear those words. She squeezed his hands.

  “Oh, Frank. I’ve always known you loved me, but I thought you loved duty more.” She shook her head. “But, no, I can’t ask you to give up your job. You love that job. Every man in town respects you. You don’t need to preach about Christ with your lips. You preach about Christ and the Christian life every day with your integrity and steadfastness. No, you cannot relinquish your job. Yours is a God-given calling.”

  “But—”

  She touched a finger to his lips. How she loved the tiny, terrified expression that flashed across his features to be immediately melded into his Unreadable Sheriff Face.

  He still feared she would not marry him. The only fear she’d ever seen from the man.

  “Just as you’re a True Southern Gentlemen, I’m a True Southern Belle. A Southern belle will do anything for the man of her heart.” She smiled and nodded. “When you are in danger, God will give me the grace to trust Him and accept His protection.”

  Frank almost fell out of his chair. His mouth opened like a fish out of water.

  Her laugh tinkled out over the room. “I love you. Merry Christmas.”

  Frank closed his mouth and nodded, making his dark hair fall over his forehead. He lifted each of her fingers and kissed the tips.

  She almost purred. “You’ve not been sheriff long. Tell me how you got the job?”

  “Funny how that happened.” He settled back in his chair.

  “That day was as crisp and beautiful an autumn day as I can remember. I’d trudged past the Golden Nugget Saloon on my way to the gold assayer’s office with my bag of newly mined gold.” He grinned. “A fist-fight inside the saloon burst out the swinging doors and landed in the middle of the street. Two of the few women in town happened to be crossing the road and shrieked, or I would have stood to the side like the other men and watched the brawl’s outcome.” He made a wry mouth. “But I’ve never been able to ignore a frightened woman. So I stuck my nose in. I’d trained in bayonets and hand-to-hand combat during the war. Even then, at age thirteen, I’d been a tall, muscular lad. So breaking up a fight between drunks had been as easy as throwing a two-day old calf. I was struck dumb when Jake pinned that badge on my chest. I’d not wanted to take on the additional duty, but Jake Underwood was mighty persuasive.