Cowboy Christmas Guardian

by Dana Mentink

  “I understand,” Shelby said. “I’m not going to ask you to speak out against him.”

  Barrett was surprised. He admired Shelby for not trying to force the girl to possibly betray her father.

  “I have something else to ask you. I wondered if it might be okay for me to contact your mother.”

  Emmaline’s mouth dropped open. “My mother?”

  “Yes. You said she liked to explore the mine. I wanted to ask her about her observations and if she knows anything about the marks down there.”

  Emmaline’s gaze dropped to the ground. “My mother’s gone. She left us when I was in high school. Mom and Dad are divorced.”

  Shelby touched her very gently on the shoulder. “That’s hard. I understand.”

  Emmaline’s eyes glittered with anger. “Oh, really? You understand how it feels when your mother leaves you? When you’re not a big enough reason for her to stay?”

  “Not my mother, my father.”

  Surprise flickered through Emmaline’s anger. “Oh,” she said. “Well, anyway, I don’t know where my mother is. I wouldn’t know how to find her.”

  “Can you tell me her last known address? Any family members she might have contact with?”

  Emmaline shook her head. “No. As far as I’m concerned, I don’t have a mother anymore.”

  Barrett wondered if Shelby felt the same way about her father. How unutterably sad to lose someone who was still walking the planet. What a waste.

  “I didn’t mean to upset you,” Shelby said. “I’m sorry.”

  Emmaline gathered her bag close and blinked hard at the tears that had formed under her lashes. “It’s okay, but please don’t talk to my father about it, all right?” Her tone was pleading. “He can’t think straight about her. He goes a little crazy when her name is brought up, so I’ve learned not to mention it.”

  What kind of life did this girl have with a mother who abandoned her and an unbalanced father?

  “I won’t,” Shelby said, and Emmaline looked relieved.

  “We’ll be sure to save a seat for you on Christmas Eve.” Barrett hesitated.

  Emmaline laughed. “Don’t worry. I know what you’re worried about, but my father never goes to any gathering. You don’t have to be concerned about him showing up.” She held up the bag and smiled brightly. “But I’ll be there with a fancy new skirt on. Well, new to me anyway.”

  “Emmaline,” Shelby said. “I heard that you were really attached to Diamond before she was sold to my uncle.”

  Emmaline bit her lip. “Yes. She is the most beautiful horse I’ve ever seen. If she were mine, I would never have sold her. Ever. I can’t understand how my mother could do it. Even my dad didn’t want to sell Diamond because he knew how much I loved her, but they were my mother’s property.” A look of disgust curled her lip. “That’s how she saw Diamond, as property. We both begged her to keep the horse but she wanted out, out of ranching and out of our lives.”

  Christmas carols played softly in the store behind them, at odds with the tragic story unwinding on the sidewalk. Barrett wasn’t sure what to say but he wished he could think of something. Words eluded him, as they often did, but Shelby broke the silence.

  “Why don’t you come by and ride Diamond sometime? She needs more exercise and my uncle wouldn’t mind.”

  Her brows shot up. “Really?”

  “Sure. It would be good for Diamond.”

  And good for Emmaline.

  “Um, okay. Maybe when my dad is away. He wouldn’t like it. He doesn’t like me to do anything that reminds him of my mother.”

  “Whenever you’d like. Right now, Diamond is at the Gold Bar, but in a few days she’ll be back home.” Shelby gave Emmaline her cell number. “Text me when you want to come and I’ll be sure there’s somebody there to help you.”

  Emmaline nodded. “Okay. Thank you.”

  Shelby stood watching Emmaline walk away, coat collar pulled up to her chin.

  “That was a nice thing you did there,” Barrett said.

  Shelby continued to gaze in the direction Emmaline had taken until she disappeared among the throng of people stringing lights along the eaves of the Grange Hall. “I understand how she feels.”

  “Maybe you can help her process what happened with her mother.”

  “I’ve got to figure out how to process my own situation first.” Her smile was rueful, but he saw a touch of hope there, and it lifted his spirits. “Anyway, I’m itching to talk to Oscar Livingston. If your granddad’s maps are accurate, there’s a way in from his property.”

  “All right,” he said with a sigh. “Let’s go.”

  * * *

  The Nugget Country Inn was a picture-perfect Victorian house set on the edge of town, backed by a rugged stretch of foothills that gradually gave way to the Sierras. The meticulously painted two-story building boasted quaint gingerbread trim twined with lighting for the holidays. The small lobby was warmed by a crackling wood fire and guests sat on plush settees and chairs, enjoying mulled cider and gingerbread cookies.

  Shelby breathed in the scent of the spices and the decked-out fir tree crammed in the corner of the room.

  Oscar Livingston was behind the counter, an enormous man as tall as Barrett and three times as wide. His full white beard was at odds with his perfectly bald head.

  “Welcome,” he boomed. “Morning, Barrett.”

  “Good to see you, sir,” Barrett said, returning the man’s vigorous handshake.

  “Brought a pretty guest, I see. Can I get you a mug of cider, miss?”

  “I’m Shelby Arroyo,” she said. While she craved the offered cider, she decided it was best to keep things businesslike. “No, thank you for the cider, even though it smells delicious.”

  “Arroyo?” He mused. “Ah. Ken’s niece.”

  She held her breath but did not see any ill will creep across his broad face at the mention of her surname. “Ken is proud as peas about you. Tells everyone who will listen about his niece, the assayer.”

  Her cheeks warmed. Uncle Ken was her father and her uncle all rolled into one and how good it felt to know she’d made him proud. And I’m not done yet, she silently reminded herself. “That’s nice to hear. Actually, I’ve come on assaying business. I’m surveying the mine for my uncle.”

  “I heard you were taking a look on Hatcher’s property.” He cocked his head. “Didn’t take it well, did he?”

  “No.”

  “He’s making things more difficult than they have to be,” Barrett put in. “So we’re looking for another way.”

  Oscar nodded, a frown wrinkling his forehead. “Oh, I get it. You want to access the mine via my property.”

  “Yes,” Shelby said. “That’s exactly what I want.”

  The phone rang on his desk, an ancient rotary model in a shade of avocado green. “Excuse me just a minute.” He listened and then called to the back. “Hazel, can you come here a minute, sis?”

  A large woman with the same full cheeks and warm smile stepped out of the back room. “Well, hello,” she said. Bypassing the counter, she planted a kiss on Barrett’s cheek and extended a plump hand to Shelby. “I’m Hazel Livingston and I see you’ve met my big brother.”

  Oscar chuckled. “She’s always happy to remind folks that she’s two years younger.”

  “Girl’s gotta hold on to her youth,” Hazel said.

  “How’s Shannon?” Barrett asked. “Coming home for Christmas?”

  Hazel beamed. “Shannon’s my daughter,” she explained to Shelby. “She’s studying in New York. Premed. Can you imagine that? Premed, and her mama never even went to a day of college.”

  “Her uncle neither,” Oscar put in. “Too bad she’s probably not coming back for Christmas.” He gave Barrett a sideways glance. “But si
nce she’s not, uh, maybe we’ll come to the Christmas Eve dinner, if we can get free. We’ll bring pie.”

  Barrett laughed. “Pie would be great. I’ll tell Mama.” He paused. “You know, if Shannon does make it home, it would be okay for her to come, too.”

  Hazel twisted up her mouth. “Oh, no. We wouldn’t want to make Jack uncomfortable.”

  Shelby read between the lines. Shannon and Jack had a tumultuous past. Life in a small town might be harder than she thought with everyone knowing everyone else’s business.

  “Folks in the Hickory Room need more towels,” Oscar said. “I’ll just go bring them up while you watch the front, okay? Be right back.”

  Hazel nodded as Oscar slipped away. “He’s good to me.” She pointed to her leg, which Shelby now noticed was a prosthetic. “Lost it to diabetes last year. Don’t know what I would do without Oscar.” A guest approached the desk and Shelby and Barrett stepped aside to allow Hazel to take care of her customer.

  Shelby felt restless at the delay. To pass the time, she perused the enormous collection of photos mounted on the side of the enclosed spiral staircase. They ranged from black-and-white snapshots to modern colored ones, showing the parade of guests that had spent time at the inn over the last fifty years, she estimated.

  “There’s a lot of history here,” she mumbled.

  “For sure,” Barrett agreed.

  As she scanned the collection, her attention was caught by one in particular. “Look,” she said, grabbing Barrett’s arm and pulling him closer. He bent to look.

  “It’s Joe Hatcher, and that must be his wife, Cora, next to him.”

  Hazel had come over to join them, leaning on a cane for support. “Yes, they spent their honeymoon here right after they got married.”

  “Do you remember Cora?” Shelby asked. “What was she like?”

  “Yes, I remember her. She was an elegant woman with lovely clothes and jewelry. I remarked to Oscar what an unusual couple they made since Joe is such a homespun kind of fellow.”

  Shelby took another look at the tall slender woman in the photo. Cora Hatcher was indeed elegant, her hair done in a soft chignon, handbag matching her pumps. “Do you know where Cora went after the divorce?”

  “I don’t really know.”

  Oscar returned. “Hazel, it seems these youngsters want to go exploring the mine using the entrance on my property.”

  Hazel’s face blanched. “Oh, no. You can’t do that.”

  “Why not?” Shelby said.

  Hazel shook her head, fingers pressed to her mouth. “It’s dangerous. People have disappeared, young people, doing just what you’re proposing.” She looked as though she might cry.

  Oscar stroked his beard and patted her soothingly. “One of our guests about three years ago was a prospector at heart. Young kid, college boy, name of Charlie. Had the gold fever pretty bad. We warned him not to go down into those mines, and of course I forbade him from going on my property. He went missing. Some boards were loose that I had nailed over my entrance so the cops searched the tunnels, but they never found him. We figured he went exploring, found a way into the mine, fell down one of those shafts and broke his neck or something.”

  Hazel gripped her brother’s arm. “Don’t say it. I can hardly bear to hear the words.”

  Oscar stroked her hand comfortingly. “We searched every spare minute. His family came out, too, clear from Nebraska. They were broken up and there was never any resolution for them. Terrible, never to know what happened to your son.”

  “Yes,” Shelby agreed, suppressing a shiver. “That is terrible.”

  “So you see,” Oscar continued, “that’s why I can’t allow you into that mine, not today or ever. I’m real sorry.”

  SEVENTEEN

  Not even Shelby’s persistent arguing would sway Oscar from his decision. He shook his head firmly, chins wobbling. Finally, Barrett led Shelby outside, Oscar following.

  “Please reconsider,” she tried one more time. “I promise I will be careful and I won’t go down in the mine alone. Barrett’s agreed to come with me.”

  He shook his head. “I’m sorry. Risking two lives is worse than risking one. I can’t allow it.”

  She took his big hands in hers. “Mr. Livingston, this mine may be the only thing standing between my uncle and bankruptcy. If I can’t get in through your entrance, I will have to have the police force Hatcher to comply, and I believe he’s already tried to kill me to prevent that from happening.”

  Oscar gaped. “What? That’s...that’s hard to believe. Why would he do such a thing?”

  “I don’t know, but someone wants to keep me from doing my job.” She told him about the death threat written in paint and the fire in the stable. Her voice wobbled once, and Barrett wished he could embrace her.

  “Please,” she said. “Your entrance is the safest way.”

  Oscar stroked his beard. “Let me think about it.” He took down Shelby’s cell number. “I’ll call you tonight with my decision, okay?”

  Shelby thanked him profusely and they returned to the truck.

  “Well, all I can do now is wait,” she said.

  Waiting was not her strong suit, Barrett knew. Judging by her fingers twisting together and the frantic tapping of her foot on the floor, evening was going to be a long time coming.

  * * *

  Having tried unsuccessfully to get Shelby to attend church with the family, Barrett had to settle for insisting she lock herself in the cabin with old Grits for company.

  As added insurance, he made sure the two younger dogs, Ida and Pockets, were on patrol. Ida was a border collie who would do nothing more than try to herd any strangers into manageable groups, but Pockets, the German shepherd, was protective of the property. Both of them would raise a ruckus if anyone approached who was not a member of the Thorn family or a long-time ranch hand. He double-checked that her cell phone was charged and his number programmed in.

  “Phone is working. Go already,” she said. “I’ll be perfectly fine.”

  Of course she would, and it was not like she was his kin or even his sweetheart. But why did his concern for her safety gallop first and foremost in his thoughts?

  “’Cause you’re losing your mind,” he muttered to himself, earning a look from his mother.

  “What, honey?”

  “Nothing, Mama,” he said, helping her on with her coat as they got into the truck.

  Still, he worried through the service as he sat and tried to listen to the pastor’s message. The tiny church was decorated with pine boughs he’d personally cut at the Gold Bar. The creative ladies in the congregation had twined little white lights around the branches and added scarlet ribbons. He wished Shelby was there to see it.

  It was astonishing to him that this woman whom he had fished out of a ravine not even a week ago had changed his life, like it or not, and made him face head-on his most uncomfortable feelings. What’s happened to me?

  When the service was over, he left his brothers to shuttle their parents home after the coffee-and-cookie hour was done, while he drove back to the ranch faster than was legal. It was almost eight thirty when he rolled up the drive, and the skies were clear, spangled with a brilliant carpet of stars.

  The lights were on in Granddad’s cabin and Ida and Pockets greeted him with wagging tails. A good sign that all was well, Shelby was safe. He breathed out an enormous gust of air. Then Pockets stiffened, tail erect and ears swiveling. Both dogs let out an earsplitting round of barking before they tore around to the back of the cabin.

  He sprinted after them. The dogs continued their crazed barking, circling through the dense coyote bush that served as a backyard to the cabin. Their intensity told him something was hiding under those bushes. Or someone? Twigs crackled as he pushed forward.

 
A light shone behind him. “What’s going on?” Shelby stood with a flashlight, shivering in the cold. The dogs ran to her, barking, before they about-faced and dived once more into the bushes.

  “Go back in the cabin,” he said. “There’s something out here.” He didn’t wait to see if she complied, but grabbed an ax from the woodpile and charged into the bushes himself. Wet leaves slapped at him, snagging his shirt. He pressed on, shoving through the foliage, lifting the lower branches with his ax to look underneath. A heavy bough snapped as he lifted it, and whatever was underneath rocketed out.

  Claws scrabbled against the bark of a knotty pine tree.

  The dogs went wild, lunging and scratching. A raccoon peered angrily down from a branch, eyes showing red in the night.

  “All right,” he said, exhaling. “That’s enough, dogs.”

  Reluctantly, the dogs broke off their frantic search, trotting back over to Barrett, their mission ended. He shouldered the ax. He was about to say something when he noticed an impression in the mud underneath the side cabin window. The outline was blurred. Might it be a partial footprint? Before he could examine closer, the dogs barreled across the wet ground, obliterating the print.

  “Was it an animal?” Shelby said.

  Were the raccoons solely to blame for upsetting the dogs? Or was it possible that someone had been spying through the window? His mind was beginning to see danger everywhere. No need to spread his paranoia to her. “Raccoon.” His eyes met hers. “You’re cold. Let’s get you inside.”

  She allowed him to usher her back into the cabin, and she sat shivering on the sofa. He closed the curtains and fetched a quilt from the closet, draping it around her, then started a log burning in the fireplace. Grits lumbered over and eased his way onto the cushion next to her. She stroked his droopy face.

  “It’s unlikely anyone would be able to get onto your property undetected, right?” Shelby said. He wasn’t sure if she was comforting herself or him. “Just coyotes and raccoons and things.”

  “Sure.” His gut was not nearly as convinced, but he had no proof. When daylight came, he intended to make a more thorough search, in case the raccoon wasn’t the only thing prowling the night around Granddad’s cabin. He sat and faced her. “What if Oscar says no?”