Wild Western Women Mistletoe, Montana: Sweet Western Historical Holiday Box Set

by Caroline Clemmons

  “Not at all like my father.”

  Miranda pulled back to look into his face. “Your father?”

  Randall huffed and shook his head. “My father wouldn’t know the first thing about giving someone the means to live their own life. He’s far too busy trying to mold mine into what he wants it to be.”

  “Then you should tell him no.” It seemed obvious to her.

  Randall laughed, but it wasn’t a pleasant sound. “You don’t know my father.”

  All at once, her eyes went wide as inspiration hit her. “Here.” She crossed to the chair where he’d been sitting and plopped into it. “You played Uncle Buford for me, now I’ll play your father. Spit it out, son! What do you have to say to me?” She dropped her voice to a masculine octave.

  Randall let out a weak laugh and rubbed a hand over his face. “This isn’t about me, it’s about you finding your way,” he argued.

  “Come on, son. If you don’t say what you mean, how do you intend to make something of yourself?” she puffed up her chest the way she had seen the mayor of her hometown in California do when he was being particularly pompous.

  Randall frowned. “My father’s idea of a man who’s made something of himself is different than mine.”

  Still in character, Miranda barked, “What are you, son? A man or a mouse?”

  “I’m a better man than you,” he snapped so suddenly that Miranda had to struggle to stay in her persona.

  “What do you have to show for it?” She played devil’s advocate, or rather, father’s advocate. “Where’s your fortune, your prestige?”

  “I don’t care about money and position.” Randall threw out his hands, giving in to the fantasy. “I never did. That was your dream, not mine.”

  “Pish tosh! What other dream is there?”

  “Love,” Randall nearly shouted in return. “I want to do a job I love. I want to stay in one place, in a town I love. I want to marry the woman I love, not the heiress who will bring the biggest fortune with her.”

  Miranda arched a brow and pursed her lips. He hadn’t told her that his father had ever pressured him into marrying an heiress, but it made perfect sense. How dare the man! She wanted to shout at him now.

  “I want to marry Miranda,” Randall went on, then blinked out of the charade. “I want to marry you.” He looked her straight in the eyes, her, not some image of his father. “I want to build a life with you, here in Mistletoe. I want to…to turn this saloon into a first-class restaurant.”

  “Oh!” The idea lifted Miranda right out of her seat. “What a wonderful idea. Your cooking is exquisite, and I don’t think I’d mind playing hostess in a restaurant at all.”

  Fueled by her declaration, Randall stepped up to her and took her hands. The fire from confronting ‘his father’ was still in his eyes. “I don’t care about any of the things my father has tried to push on me. I’m glad that I got a chance to travel and experience so many different kinds of lives, but perhaps because of that, I know which one is the life I want. This one, right here. And I don’t care if we’ve gone about everything backwards and upside down and against the standards of polite society.”

  “Neither do I,” Miranda added, breathless.

  As if she had argued with him instead of agreeing, he went on with, “I enjoyed making love with you last night. I’ve never felt so wonderful in my life. You’re beautiful and strong and passionate, and I don’t give a fig if proper society deems the magic we created as scandalous. It would be scandalous if we hadn’t given ourselves to each other. It would be scandalous if we didn’t give ourselves to each other every day for the rest of our lives.” He pulled her into his arms, tipping her back as if he would kiss her. “I want to be yours, Miranda. Randi’s Randy. For the rest of our lives and forever. And I don’t care what my father says.”

  “Then kiss me,” she ordered him, dizzy with delight.

  He did just that, lowering his mouth to capture hers. Nothing could have made Miranda happier. She threw her arms over his shoulders, threading her fingers through his hair, and returning his kiss with all the newfound hope and passion in her soul. They could build a life together, they would. They would take Uncle Buford’s gift and turn it into something that would make the two of them and all of Mistletoe proud. They would turn their lives into more than any of the people who had tried to trap them in roles that didn’t suit them had ever dreamed they could. They would be happy.

  Their kiss continued. Randall lifted Miranda to her tiptoes, and she backpedaled as he walked her to the edge of the stage, then lifted her to the floor. He backed her toward one of the saloon tables and would have bent her to lay across it in the most delightfully wicked way if a loud banging hadn’t come from the front door.

  They barely had time to bring themselves upright when the banging resolved into heavy thumping, and the door’s closures snapped. The door burst open from the outside, smacking against the wall, and a whirl of cold air and snow rushed in.

  “See. I told you they were all right.”

  Teddy Potts and Frank Hoover stumbled into the saloon, stomping snow from their boots. Starla came rushing in after them, wrapped in a modest, wool coat, with boots of her own.

  “Thank the good Lord!” she exclaimed, rushing toward Miranda and Randall. She stopped halfway across the room, her eyes going wide and a grin melting the worry on her face. “Well I’ll be! Looks like you took my advice after all.”

  “Your advice?” Miranda realized a moment too late that the top few buttons of her blouse were undone, her skirt was hitched up, Randall’s shirt was untucked, and the two of them were still half bent over the table.

  Starla burst into outright laughter. “Yep. I didn’t have a thing to be worried about after all.”

  “Worried?” Randall cleared his throat and stepped away from Miranda. He attempted to spruce up his appearance, but gave up after only tucking his shirt in halfway. “What were you worried about?”

  Starla puffed out a breath, threw out her hands, and looked at the two of them as though they’d just sprouted from the cabbage patch yesterday. “Why, there’s been a big storm, in case you hadn’t noticed. The whole town was buried in four feet of snow.” She studied the two of them with a bemused grin, then added, “No, no, I don’t suppose the two of you did notice.”

  Miranda exchanged a look with Randall that said they’d both been caught red-handed. But it was Starla, so Miranda chose to forego the usual stammering and blushing and making excuses. “We have noticed the storm. We’ve been trapped in here for days. We cleaned the whole place from top to bottom,” she peeked at Randall, “in preparation for converting it to a fine restaurant.”

  “Well!” Starla exclaimed.

  “You mean you’re closing down the Bucket?” Frank lamented.

  Starla twisted to him. “There are two other saloons in town, Frank, and if that’s not good enough for you, you can always head over to Cold Springs.”

  Frank grumbled, but didn’t argue. Starla turned back to Miranda and Randall, an almost comical look on her face. “Honey, the storm passed days ago. Folks have been digging out all week. Why, the only reason no one touched The Holey Bucket or bothered to dig it out until now was because we all thought you’d taken shelter at the hotel.”

  “What? No, we’ve been here the whole time,” Miranda answered. “Didn’t you see the lights in the windows?”

  Behind Starla, Teddy laughed. “You wouldn’t ask that if you could see what the building looks like from the outside.”

  Miranda’s curiosity was instantly piqued. She headed for the door, grabbing her winter coat from the peg beside it. Randall jumped after her, fetching his coat as well. They bundled up in a hurry, then followed Teddy, Frank, and Starla outside.

  At first, Miranda couldn’t believe her eyes. The streets of Mistletoe were far, far clearer than she would have imagined. It was obvious that there’d been a massive snowfall, but equally as obvious that the streets and businesses lining Main Street ha
d been cleared and dug out. The saloon was the only building that hadn’t been touched. In fact, it looked as though the neighbors had shoveled their snow against the sides of the building, convinced it’d been abandoned.

  “You mean we’ve been trapped tight in there alone with nothing to do for days when we could just as easily have dug our way through a little snow and gotten out?” Randall laughed as he asked the question.

  Miranda shot him a look, trying hard not to laugh herself. Thank God in Heaven above they hadn’t tried to get out! In fact, now that she thought about it, they easily could have broken free, if only they’d been less wrapped up in each other and more aware of their surroundings. If that wasn’t a statement on the lives they’d both been living up until that point, she didn’t know what was.

  “It’s downright pretty out here,” Randall said, pivoting to look around at Main Street. While the snow wasn’t pristine anymore, it was still dazzling white. The sun had already set, even though it couldn’t have been later than five o’clock, and bright moonbeams flooded the scene, making everything look new and exciting.

  “Who would have guessed that all this beauty and moonlight was out here waiting for us,” Miranda said. She wasn’t talking about the landscape around them.

  “Who indeed,” Randall answered. He turned back and met her eyes, then—bold as brass—swept her into his arms, and kissed her soundly.

  Miranda’s only regret with the kiss was that their coats kept them apart. Nothing had ever felt so crisp and promising and right, and no moonbeams had ever sparkled as bright.

  The sound of Teddy and Frank clearing their throats and coughing brought Miranda back down to earth. “And who is this gent anyhow?” Frank asked, as protective and fatherly as Uncle Buford would have been.

  A flash of mischief filled Miranda as she spun to face the two older men and Starla. She kept her arm tight around Randall and his around her. “This is my fiancé, Mr. Randall Sinclair.”

  “Oh. Ah.” The two older men lost their frowns and smiled at the two of them.

  Starla hid her mouth behind a gloved hand, her eyes dazzlingly bright. “That’s some letting go,” she said when she finally dropped her hand.

  Miranda couldn’t help but laugh, not just because taking Starla’s advice had changed her life after all, but because she’d just realized that not a soul in town knew her well enough to question the story of a fiancé she’d never told anyone about arriving in Mistletoe just in the nick of time to help her through the blizzard. If they played their cards right—and she would never take the analogy of playing cards lightly again—they could marry before the year was out, lickety-split, and no one would bat an eye. Why there was a possibility they could marry on Christmas if…

  “What day is it?” she asked.

  Teddy and Frank guffawed as if she was joking. But Starla seemed to understand just how deeply Miranda and Randall had lost track of time. “Honey, it’s Christmas Eve,” she told them.

  “Christmas Eve?” Miranda and Randall answered at the same time. They exchanged a look, then burst into laughter. They’d been holed up in the bucket for an entire week and lost track of time.

  “We’re on our way to a Christmas Eve party at the church,” Teddy told them. “That’s when Starla insisted we check to see if you wanted to come.”

  “Like I said,” Starla explained, “I thought you were staying at the hotel, but when I went over there to fetch you, they told me you’d never checked in.” A contrite look came over her. “I’m sorry I was so busy with my own concerns that I didn’t have a chance to check on you sooner.” Her contrition switched to teasing. “Then again, I’m not.”

  “Well are we gonna stand here all day freezing our grillies off?” Frank grumbled, “or are we gonna get on over to the church.”

  “The church, definitely,” Randall said as their group started down Main Street toward the church. He leaned closer to Miranda and murmured, “I need to talk to the reverend about arranging a certain service as soon as possible.”

  Chapter 10

  Miranda’s mind swam with ideas as she and Randall headed down the snow-packed road toward the church, arm in arm. “A restaurant!” Her breath formed icy crystals in the air. “I think we could do it. We could really do it.”

  “Of course we could.” Randall turned to her with a broad grin, clutching her arm tighter. “I’m beginning to think that between the two of us, we could do anything.”

  She giggled at the thought and continued walking. The world around them was bright and fresh with moonbeams and the promise of the future. The closer they came to the church, the more people they met clomping through the snow. Miranda hadn’t been in the mood to make friends with her new neighbors since arriving in Mistletoe, but with Randall by her side and the Christmas moonlight shining down on them, she found that she wanted to know everyone.

  “Miss Clarke.” Everleigh Walsh, the reporter who’d tried once to strike up a conversation with her at the general store, met her as they entered the church. “I’d almost forgotten about you. Did you weather the storm all right?”

  “Yes, absolutely.” Miranda turned to beam up at Randall. “It actually turned out to be quite a pleasant experience.” She hugged Randall’s arm and faced Everleigh again. “I don’t think you’ve met my fiancé, Randall Sinclair.”

  “No, I haven’t.” Everleigh extended her hand to Randall, who shook it in the most gentlemanly manner. “Everleigh Walsh.”

  “It’s a pleasure, Miss Walsh.” He peeked at Miranda, then went on with. “I look forward to getting to know you better, and to serving you and your friends at the new restaurant Miranda and I will be opening.”

  Everleigh’s eyes widened. “A restaurant?”

  “Yes, we’re converting the Holey Bucket into a fine dining spot.” Miranda could hardly keep her giggles to herself. It was far easier to pretend that this had been the plan all along, that nothing untoward had happened in the last week, and that life was as normal as normal could be. She wondered how many of her other friends and neighbors spent their lives pretending things for the sake of appearance.

  “I’ll have to do a story about that, once you’re ready,” Everleigh said. She caught sight of something deeper in the church and turned to go with a quick, “If you will excuse me.”

  Miranda let her giggles out at last. Randall joined her, shifting to hold her hand. “Well, that was easy.”

  “Of course it was easy.” She started walking further into the happy, chattering crowd of Mistletoe townsfolk. “It’s the advantage of people not knowing you well.”

  “And not being able to see through walls,” he added in a teasing whisper.

  The two of them laughed together. That drew the attention of the young woman standing nearby. Miranda had met Dr. Shannon Callahan briefly when she’d arrived in town. It was encouraging to see the surprising, female doctor all smiles now. Those smiles also alerted Miranda to the fact that the party they’d just stepped into wasn’t just a Christmas party, it was a celebration of Dr. Callahan. Miranda put two-and-two together, the healthy faces, the relief, the celebratory spirit.

  “Has the measles epidemic ended?” she asked Shannon.

  “Thankfully, yes,” Shannon replied. She blinked. “The last of the quarantined patients went home a few days ago. Didn’t you know?”

  Miranda exchanged a sheepish look with Randall. “We were snowed in at the saloon.”

  Shannon blinked from Miranda to Randall. “You…oh!”

  “Dr. Callahan, may I introduce my fiancé, Randall Sinclair?” Miranda said before anything else could be.

  “Oh.” Shannon’s surprise resolved into happy understanding. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Sinclair.”

  “And you as well, Dr. Callahan.” He paused before saying. “A woman doctor. How unusual.”

  Shannon gave him a look as though he didn’t know the half of it. “If you’ll excuse me, it looks like I’m wanted.” She waved and then hurried off.

>   “I think I like this little town of yours.” Randall slipped an arm around Miranda’s back, tugging her closer. They still hadn’t had a chance to take off their coats, but it hardly mattered.

  “I think I like it too,” she replied. “And something tells me they aren’t the sort to go prying into every little detail of each other’s lives.”

  “Well, there’s always someone,” Randall cautioned her. He stood straighter, searching through the crowd. “Which reminds me. Which one is the town reverend? I want to see if he has time to marry us tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow?” Miranda exclaimed, a buzz of excitement filling her to her toes.

  Randall chuckled. “Do you really want to wait to share a bed with me and enjoy my cooking in the morning?”

  Miranda blinked, then tumbled into laughter. “No, no I don’t. I would miss your cooking far too much.”

  Randall tipped to kiss her cheek. “If we weren’t in a church, I’d show you which of those two things you should give priority.”

  Miranda gasped in fake shock, then hugged him sideways. “We’ll need to spend just a bit more time in the church before I can submit to your need to convince me.”

  His answering chuckle made her want to skip the party and head back to the saloon. She had a feeling it would be a very warm winter, no matter what the weather was like.

  “So you don’t think your father will mind?” she asked, strolling on with him toward a table of refreshments. “That you’ve gone and married a saloon owner and set down roots in the middle of Montana?”

  “Of course he’ll mind.” Randall shrugged. “But he can go on minding all he wants. It won’t change how I feel about settling down, and it won’t change how I feel about you.”

  “And how do you feel about me?” She stopped and glanced up at him with a coquettish sparkle in her eye.

  Randall turned to her, taking her in his arms in spite of the crowd around them. “I love you, Randi. I don’t need months and years to know it. I think I started falling in love with you the moment you didn’t kick me out of your saloon. And I will continue to love you for the rest of my life and beyond.”