Cowboy Christmas Guardian

by Dana Mentink

  “What evidence?” Barrett said.

  “I was angry. I painted messages on the tunnel walls sometimes, like I did at your uncle’s house.” She frowned. “It was stupid. I should have covered over them or moved the bodies, but I never got around to it.”

  “The police are investigating. They’ll find your messages soon,” Shelby said.

  “No one will find them,” she snapped, “unless your assaying causes mining to start up again, but I think when you disappear and are found dead eventually, your uncle will lose interest in his mining adventure.”

  Shelby’s voice was high and taut. “How are you going to explain our murders?”

  “I don’t have to, but really, you’re nosy, and nosy people get into trouble, don’t they? Poor Barrett, getting mixed up with the likes of you. His wife was much better. She brought us Christmas cookies every year. It was a shame your cousin killed her. She didn’t deserve to die, not like you.”

  Don’t talk about my wife, Barrett wanted to say. And Shelby doesn’t deserve any of this. He eased a little onto one side, grabbing a handful of gravel. Shelby squeezed his arm to show she’d noticed. She knew what they had to do.

  “You don’t have to do this,” Shelby said, slowly standing. “We can explain it to the police. I am sure you didn’t mean to kill her. It could have been an accident.”

  “No,” Emmaline said, eyes blazing. “It was not an accident. My mother was a selfish shrew. My father fawned all over her like a puppy and she didn’t care about him, or me. She sold the horses and told Daddy she was leaving us. It wasn’t an accident,” Emmaline snapped. “I shot her with this gun in the back of the head, just like I did to Charlie. Daddy has spent his whole life trying to cover it up, and now he’s even gone to jail for it, so it’s all up to me. You two are the only ones who know the truth.”

  She’s insane, Barrett thought. His fingers tightened around the gravel. Without warning, Emmaline stomped down hard on his wrist. He grunted in pain, losing his grip on the bits of rock.

  “If you think you’re going to try something heroic, Mr. Thorn, you are making a mistake. Now, get up. We’re going to walk to your truck and drive.”

  Shelby hooked an arm under his elbow and he got unsteadily to his feet, blood dripping from his face onto his shirtfront. “Where?” he said.

  “Somewhere remote, where you won’t be found for a while. It will be fun watching them search for you.”

  They made their way toward the truck, Emmaline behind them, gun aimed. Once they were out of town, there would be a much smaller chance they would survive. The window of opportunity was narrowing.

  Barrett squeezed Shelby’s hand. Her fingers trembled in his. In that touch, he wanted to tell her so many things about how he’d changed since he met her, about what he’d learned deep down in his soul. Above all, he hoped she knew he would not give up fighting for her until his very last breath, and he had no intention of breathing his last to clear the way for Emmaline to cover up two murders.

  “You drive,” Emmaline said, prodding him in the back when they reached the vehicle.

  “Can’t,” he said. “Double vision, thanks to your shot.”

  Shelby flicked him a worried look from the corner of her eye. Head turned away from Emmaline, he winked.

  “You, then,” she said to Shelby. Barrett handed her the keys. She dropped them and Emmaline cursed at her. While she bent to retrieve them, he yanked open the passenger door and started to climb in. There was only one thing he could use to save them. Praying, he grabbed the container. He had it in his hands, the soup still hot enough that the container was warm against his fingers. Whirling, he flung the soup into Emmaline’s face.

  She recoiled, raising her arms reflexively to her eyes, gun pointed at the sky. Shelby swept an ankle out and hooked Emmaline’s legs. The gun went flying and Barrett pinned Emmaline down, turning her onto her stomach and holding her hands behind her back.

  “Don’t touch me,” she hissed into the dirt. “Let me go.”

  “Happy to oblige as soon as the police arrive,” he said, panting.

  Shelby grabbed a coil of rope from the back of the truck and tied Emmaline’s hands. Together, they knelt over Emmaline’s prostrate form, breathing hard. Barrett still could not quite believe that the young girl they held had killed her own mother and an innocent college student.

  And nearly killed them both as well, he reminded himself. Shelby shivered next to him and he figured she was running through those chilling thoughts, as well.

  “All kinds of crazy?” she said, a sliver of a smile on her face.

  “That’s exactly what I was about to say.”

  * * *

  Christmas Eve morning, Shelby was at her uncle’s side, prodding him to eat from a dish of applesauce while she explained what had happened at the ranch. He was still pale, weak, but improving at a steady rate, according to the doctors. She had stopped in the chapel on her way to his room to thank God for her uncle’s deliverance and theirs. The world had spun out of control for so long, she hardly knew what to do with herself now that He’d put it back in order.

  Barrett had not wanted her to spend the night alone at her uncle’s and she suspected he might have even slept in his truck outside, but she did not feel frightened anymore. Emmaline, poor twisted girl, was in custody and there would be no more threats to Shelby or her uncle. Shelby had wrapped up in her blankets, cried, prayed, thought about her mother, about Barrett and her future and prayed some more, sleeping intermittently until morning dawned.

  With effort, she brought her mind back to the present. “When the police release my samples, I’ll get them analyzed as quickly as I can.”

  Uncle Ken pushed the applesauce aside. “No need.”

  “What?”

  “I’m okay, for a while, like I said, and it doesn’t feel right to pry open that mine anytime soon. Too much grief contained in those tunnels for my taste.”

  She felt her eyes well up again. “Charlie’s parents will arrive soon to take home his remains.”

  Uncle Ken sighed. “That’s good. Some closure.” He patted her hand. “So what are your Christmas Eve plans?”

  “I’m going to stay here with you. I’ll see if I can smuggle in some cookies or something.”

  “Not necessary. Evie Thorn called just before you arrived to say she and Tom will be here precisely at noon to deliver me a Christmas luncheon that will fill me to the rafters.”

  Shelby gaped. “And you’re...well, you’re okay with that?”

  He was quiet a moment. “Let’s just say I’ve learned a few things recently. It will take time,” he said, eyes damp, “but I want things to be different.”

  She blinked back her own tears and kissed him on the cheek. “I’m so glad, Uncle Ken.”

  “So,” he said, after clearing his throat, “you are to attend the Christmas Eve gathering at the Gold Bar Ranch tonight, Shelby, no arguments.”

  “I’m not going to leave you here alone.”

  “Trust me, after Evie’s lunch I think I will be napping the day away. Nothing sounds better to me than a night of uninterrupted sleep. Please,” he said, catching her hand, “I want you to go.”

  It doesn’t seem right, she wanted to say, but she found to her surprise that it did. Spending Christmas Eve with Barrett was the only thing her heart craved. She did not know where things stood between them, but she knew she had to see him again.

  “If you’re sure,” she said.

  He pulled her hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. “I’m sure. Go.”

  On the way down in the elevator, she made plans. First, a call to her mother to tell her caregivers she’d be coming for a visit soon. Then a proper shower and an attempt to make herself presentable. And one very important stop in town...

  * * *

&n
bsp; The Christmas Eve service at the church was packed as usual. Everyone greeted Barrett with extra hearty hugs that made his ribs throb and he heard “I just can’t believe it” more times than he could count. He was still having trouble believing it himself.

  And further, he could not stop wondering about Shelby, where she was and if he had done the right thing on his afternoon errand after his mother confirmed that Shelby would likely be coming to Christmas Eve at the ranch. Barrett was not prone to indecision, but now his stomach felt tight.

  As the choir sang the last Christmas carol, his eye caught a glimpse of brown glossy hair pulled into a soft pile. Shelby? He strained to see, but he was caught up in the throng of churchgoers filing down the aisle. Most of them would be heading to the ranch directly. His mother tugged on his arm.

  “Come on, Barrett. We’ve got mouths to feed.”

  “Right behind you, Mama.” He strained to look for Shelby but there was no sign of her.

  At the ranch, he was immediately engulfed by his duties. The long wooden tables he’d constructed were covered and set with pine garlands and flickering lanterns. He activated the tall heat lamps and his father threw more wood into the crackling fire pit. Jack stood at the fence, armed with carrots that he dispensed for the children to offer the horses that stood expectantly on the other side. Owen poured endless cups of cider and hot coffee. It was good to see him smiling.

  It seemed like this year the eight-foot tree standing near the front porch sparkled with more lights than in recent memory, and the buffet table was jammed with an unbelievable assortment of offerings, everything from roast turkey to mashed potatoes, cranberry relish and plates of his mother’s famous stuffing.

  Keegan was posted at the dessert table, ostensibly to keep the kids from raiding it before supper, but Barrett saw his youngest brother sneaking cookies to the kids and nibbling on them himself. Barrett chuckled. Tonight would be a night of rejoicing, finishing up with a rousing family game time and a midnight prayer.

  Thorn family Christmases. He’d taken them for granted. The last four years he’d been so steeped in grief, in hatred, that Christmases had come and gone in a meaningless parade. Bree would have tugged on his earlobe and told him not to waste a minute being regretful on Christmas Eve. Bree had always relished the life God had given her, and Barrett was going to try to do the same.

  “I’ll always love you, Bree,” he whispered, looking up at the spangle of stars. A feeling of peace filled his soul.

  But he had not yet seen Shelby. What if she did not come?

  “Is it okay to start with dessert and work my way backward?”

  He spun on his heel and found Shelby standing there, clutching a box. Her hair was piled up like he’d noticed in church and she wore a red sweater and a white scarf.

  “Pretty as a Christmas present,” he murmured.

  She smiled, looking away. “Speaking of presents...” She handed him the wrapped box.

  “You didn’t have to get me a gift,” he said.

  “Yes, I did. Open it.”

  He tore off the paper and pulled off the lid. Inside was a cowboy hat, sturdy and unadorned.

  “I know it’s not as good as your favorite hat that you lost in the mine,” she said.

  He clapped it on his head. “It’ll be perfect, once I beat it up a little. Thank you.”

  She laughed. “Glad I didn’t get the one with rhinestones on the side.”

  He chuckled. “Good call. I, uh...I got something for you, too.”

  He took her hand and led her over to the glistening Christmas tree. From underneath it, he took a tissue-wrapped package. “Hope you like it.”

  With nerves zinging, he watched her open it. Her laughter drifted through the air like snowflakes. “A jar of homemade pickles,” she cried. “I’m going to keep them forever, unopened, to remind me of you.”

  He pointed to the ribbon around the edge. “Maybe, um, you could keep that instead.”

  Eyes wide, she untied the ribbon and slid off the gold ring. “Barrett?”

  “It’s an engagement ring.” He could hardly swallow. “I mean, if you want it to be.”

  She stared at him, the ring clutched between her fingers.

  “I love you, Shelby,” he said. “You brought my heart back to beating and you helped me see that I was wasting my life on hatred.”

  She cocked her head, her expression...puzzled? Confused? Upset? he thought with a trickle of fear.

  “I thought I didn’t have any more right to experience joy after Bree, but being with you has changed all that. I want you to be in my life.”

  “But you almost died because of me.”

  “No,” he said quietly. “It’s the opposite. You taught me how to live again.”

  Tears glimmered on the edges of her thick lashes. Tears of joy, he told himself stubbornly as he eased down to one knee, slid off his hat and took the ring from her hands.

  “Will you marry me, Shelby?”

  Her mouth opened in a circle of surprise, but she did not speak one reassuring syllable.

  He cleared his throat. “If it feels rushed, we can have a long engagement, as long as you want. I know you want to set up your own assayer’s office, and there’s your mother to think about. I don’t want you to give up anything, so if you need time, I understand, but tell me that you want a future with me.” He sucked in a breath. “I’m just a simple cowboy, and I know that’s not much to offer, but I promise I will love you forever, Shelby. Tell me that you love me, too.”

  The wind carried the sounds of Christmas music and laughter. Maybe he’d been wrong, misread her heart and mistakenly equated her feelings with his. Suddenly he felt cold, foolish. He got to his feet.

  “I, uh...”

  She leaped into his arms. Astonished, he lifted her off her feet as she pressed her face to his.

  “You know what, Barrett Thorn?” she said, cheeks rosy and eyes glittering.

  “What?” he breathed, experiencing an upwelling of hope.

  “I would be honored to be the wife of a simple, pickle-making cowboy. I love you.”

  Jubilation filled his soul and he knew Bree would be happy, too, that he had found another remarkable woman to love. He kissed Shelby long and slow.

  She giggled. “Are you sure you’re going to be able to handle it when I beat you at checkers during family game night, cowboy?”

  “I’ll never surrender,” he said, laughing. Then he swept her closer and kissed her properly.

  Cowboy-style.

  * * * * *

  If you enjoyed COWBOY CHRISTMAS GUARDIAN, look for these other books by Dana Mentink.

  DANGEROUS TIDINGS

  SEASIDE SECRETS

  ABDUCTED

  DANGEROUS TESTIMONY

  Keep reading for an excerpt from UNDERCOVER HOLIDAY FIANCÉE by Maggie K. Black.

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  Dear Reader,

  What is it about cowboy heroes? There’s a mystique about the hardworking cowboy, the tough, honorable, God-fearing man who isn’t afraid to speak the truth or fight for his family honor. I am thrilled to bring you this new series featuring the Thorn family—four brothers who will face any danger to protect their beloved Gold Bar Ranch and the women whom they will come to love along the way.

  In this first installment in the series, Barrett Thorn must come face-to-face with his inability to forgive those who were responsible for the death of his wife. It’s a struggle for a man with a deep faith, who knows what God wants from him. In the course of the novel, he’ll meet a woman who challenges his beliefs and his feelings, as they both seek to s
olve a mystery and stay alive.

  Thank you for coming on this new journey into cowboy country! I hope you will enjoy riding along with me. As always, I am blessed to hear from my readers. You can contact me via my website at www.danamentink.com and there is also a physical address there if you’d like to write. God bless you, my friends, and welcome to Gold Country!

  Sincerely,

  Dana Mentink

  We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin Love Inspired Suspense story.

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  Undercover Holiday Fiancée

  by Maggie K. Black

  ONE

  The crash of exploding glass echoed up through the empty halls of the Bobcaygeon Sports Center, shattering the early morning peace and drowning out the melody of Christmas carols. Moments earlier, Ontario Provincial Police Detective Chloe Brant had been running in place as a treadmill cycled endlessly beneath her. Now she heard shouting. She yanked the treadmill’s emergency cord and grabbed the handles for stability as the belt shuddered to a stop beneath her feet. Her steady green eyes looked through the interior window of the sports center’s second-floor exercise room down at the lobby below, just in time to see a skinny figure in a rubber elf mask knock over the Christmas tree with the wild swing of a baseball bat.