WESTERN CHRISTMAS PROPOSALS

by Various

  “I’m not the same man I was back then, Red. Losing you nearly killed me. I tried to convince myself it was your fault, but deep down inside, I knew better. I knew if I’d been a better man things would have turned out different.”

  “It’s water under the bridge,” she whispered, dropping her gaze again. “I don’t blame you. Maybe I should have waited longer. Maybe I should have jumped on the first stagecoach, landed in your office and demanded you make me your wife then and there. But I didn’t. I let Father dictate my life just as always. Just as I allowed you to do and then Clancy. But no more. We have new lives now and I’m perfectly content with my lot.”

  “Content? I don’t want us to be content. I want us to be happy. Don’t you?”

  She said nothing but he saw her lower lip quiver. That was all it took for his resolve to crumble. He lowered his mouth to hers and captured her trembling lips with his and kissed her as if his life, their future and every hope he’d ever held of having a family counted on his convincing her of his sincerity. And he was sincere. He did want that dream of forever with her. He always had.

  Hope soared inside him the second she leaned into him, giving herself over to the kiss the way she had done all those years ago beneath the mistletoe when he’d told her he was leaving. He’d been an idiot. A true and bona fide fool to have left her that night. He wouldn’t make that mistake again. Morgan poured everything in his heart into that kiss, tasting and teasing her, pulling her close so that she melded to him as if they were one. He needed to convince her. Needed to—

  She pulled away, breaking the kiss and stumbling away from him until her back pressed against the wall. When she looked at him, what he saw rocked him back on his heels. Fear. Of what? Him?

  “Red—”

  She gave her head a quick shake and the emotions settled back behind a veil until the only thing left in her eyes was resolve. “I need to go.”

  “That’s it?” He couldn’t keep the incredulous tone from his voice. He’d just poured his heart out to her! She couldn’t throw him even a small bone? Some indication of what was in her head? Her heart?

  “I can’t do this with you right now. I need...time. Or space or...something. I just need to think. It’s too much. You can’t ride into town and expect me to throw myself into your arms like the past six years hadn’t happened. I’m not the same person I used to be.”

  That much was clear. Problem was, she was even better than she used to be.

  “Fine,” he said, trying not to sound as deflated as he felt. “Fair enough. I’ll give you time.”

  She cleared her throat. “I need to get back to the others.”

  The message was clear. Their conversation was at an end. At least for now.

  He nodded and watched as she slipped from the room and started back up the aisle to the front of the church. She didn’t look back. It was as if she’d already washed her hands of him. Of their past. His hopes for a reconciliation dimmed considerably.

  What if she didn’t give them a second chance? What if she didn’t want to patch up the tattered remains of their relationship? Morgan tried to swallow the possibility but it proved unpalatable. Much as life without her would be.

  She was everything he had dreamed of for so long. She was home and family and future. How could fate dangle her in front of him like this and then snatch her away? And what was he going to do to make sure that didn’t happen?

  Because one thing was for sure—he wasn’t going to lose her a second time.

  Chapter Five

  “Is he the reason you came to Salvation Falls, Willa? Did you think Morgan would be here to rescue you?” Lettie moved about Willa’s sitting room that doubled as her office, touching the spotless surface of the bureau before lifting her fingers to inspect for dust.

  Willa gripped the fountain pen in her hand and held it above the ledgers where she worked. It would not do to splotch the paper where she’d written next week’s orders. She considered denying the claim, but what was the point?

  “I suppose I was hoping to see a familiar face. He had spoken so often of Salvation Falls I thought maybe he’d come eventually. It wasn’t as if you had opened your arms and welcomed me home.”

  Lettie stopped moving for a moment and avoided Willa’s gaze. “You know I regret that. But Ernest...” Her voice drifted off and Willa was left with the impression that there was far more to the story of what happened in Lettie’s marriage than what her sister let on.

  “Anyway,” Willa said, pushing away the past. “The last thing I need is to humiliate myself all over again in that regard.”

  The hypocrisy of her statement lingered in the air. Had she not already done that? Why, she had practically swooned in his arms the moment his lips had touched hers. It had taken every last ounce of strength to walk away from him that day. She’d wanted nothing more than to believe in everything he’d said. But he’d made promises before and sealed them with a kiss and look where it had got her. She couldn’t afford to be so foolish a second time. There was too much at stake now.

  Lettie turned and leaned against the narrow table behind her, a knowing smile playing about her bow lips. “I know how much you loved him, Willa. How brightly that torch still burns where he’s concerned.”

  “I am not burning any torch.” The lie ground out of her and even she didn’t believe it.

  “Then why have you not remarried? I’m guessing any number of gentlemen in this town would be happy to call you wife.”

  The uncommon compliment surprised Willa, but this was not a conversation she wished to have. “I have been married, Lettie. It was a less than desirable union, if you’ll recall. I prefer to be on my own, thank you.”

  “You can’t judge every man based on the one Father chose for you. Clancy Barstow was a snake oil salesman in a fancy suit. I don’t know what the devil Father was thinking having you marry that man. Even Ernest was a better choice than Clancy, though that’s hardly high praise for either of them.”

  Her sister walked toward Willa, her satin dress swishing back and forth filling the silence in the room. Lettie’s fingers tapped the writing desk. “How are you going to feel when Morgan chooses a bride? Because he will. It’s just the natural way of things. And he’s a fine-looking man with good prospects. Heavens, if the thought of taking your castoffs wasn’t so appalling, even I would consider him.”

  The idea of Morgan with anyone, especially Lettie, burned like acid in her stomach, but she maintained her lie. It was all she had left to cling to. “I wish Morgan every happiness.”

  Lettie made a scoffing sound. “You’re a horrible liar, Willa. You may want to keep that in mind when you have to come face-to-face with him and offer those good wishes.”

  Her sister spun on her slippered heel and headed for the door. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to stop by Mrs. Donovan’s dress shop. I swear, if not for that woman’s designs and dresses there would be no hope for the women in this town. Have you given any thought as to what you might wear to the festival? Please tell me you are not going to embarrass yourself and show up at the dance wearing one of your serviceable dresses. The idea is positively mortifying. Though if you were trying to dissuade any man from showing an interest in you, I suppose that would be the way to go.”

  Willa set her pen down and sat back in her chair. “I have not yet decided whether I will be attending the dance. I have a lot of work to do.” And she had a certain individual to avoid.

  Lettie hesitated, then gave Willa a pointed look. “One of these days, sister dear, you are going to learn that second chances are a rare thing indeed. Not everybody gets one. Don’t be a fool and throw this one away.”

  “Who said a second chance was even a possibility?”

  “For heaven’s sake, Willa. Morgan didn’t come to the church the other day to volunteer for the Christmas Fest
ival. He came to see you. And I can think of only one reason why he’d do that. He wants you back. And you want him.”

  Willa clenched her jaw. Was she so transparent? Yes, she wanted Morgan. She had always wanted Morgan. But she also wanted to preserve her pride and dignity and wasn’t about to fall into his arms because he said a few pretty words. She had her own life and granted, maybe she wasn’t deliriously happy in the way she’d dreamed of being, but there was nothing wrong with content. Content was good. Content was solid and steady.

  “I’m perfectly happy with my life the way it is.” Willa dropped her gaze back to the ledger. It was true, or at least it had been before Morgan had arrived on her doorstep and something shifted inside her. Something that made the notion of second chances echo in the quiet of the room, resonating deep within her. Was she being a fool to deny herself a second chance at love?

  Or would she be even more of a fool to set herself up for a second heartbreak?

  * * *

  “Should probably get yourself a haircut.” Caleb Beckett pointed a finger at Morgan’s head from where he sat, stretched out in one of the straight-backed chairs in front of Bertram’s large oak desk that had survived the fire with only a little scarring. Morgan patted the back of his head. Granted, his hair had grown a bit scruffy but surely he didn’t look that bad.

  Sheriff Hunter Donovan, who had accompanied Beckett to Bertram’s temporary offices, sat on the corner of the desk. He grunted his agreement before adding his own two cents worth. “And a suit. People will take you more seriously if you’re wearin’ a suit.”

  Morgan wondered what the protocol was for throwing these two out of the office, given it was located above the dress shop owned by the sheriff’s wife. Morgan was in a surly mood after his conversation with Willa. It had been two days since they’d kissed and she’d been avoiding him. Not an easy thing to do given they were living under the same roof.

  “Thank you for your input, gentlemen, but isn’t there somewhere you both need to be?”

  Beckett and Donovan looked at each other and shrugged.

  “Don’t think so. Hunter?”

  “Nope. Pretty quiet today.”

  Morgan scowled. “Fantastic.” He motioned to the papers on the desk. “You know, I have done this lawyering thing before. I had a fairly successful practice too.”

  The sheriff picked up a paperweight and gave it a close examination. “You don’t say? What happened?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean if you had a successful law practice once, why don’t you still?”

  The two men stared at him and Morgan shifted in his chair, hesitating as he attempted to find the right words to explain the short-lived nature of his practice. “I had a change of circumstances.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Hmm.” Beckett rubbed his jaw. “A woman, then.”

  “Definitely a woman.” Sheriff Donovan nodded.

  Morgan banged his hand on the desk. “It was not a—”

  “Mrs. Barstow would be my guess.” Beckett kicked his feet up onto the corner of the desk next to the sheriff, a clear indication that neither of them intended on leaving anytime soon. “Heard you have a prior acquaintance with the lady.”

  “Did you?”

  “Ayup. Also heard you had a private conversation a couple days past at the church.”

  The sheriff crossed his arms over his chest. “Got witnesses that’ll verify to that.”

  Morgan had the sinking feeling he was about to be outlawyered by a lawman and a rancher. Problem was, he couldn’t even mount a proper defense given that their facts were both true and accurate. At least no one knew what had happened during said conversation.

  Morgan settled back in his chair and crossed his arms. “Willa and I were engaged to be married several years back.”

  The sheriff’s dark eyes crinkled at the corners. He looked more amused than surprised. “That so?”

  Morgan had the sinking sensation a good portion of the town was well aware of their past association. Apparently news traveled in Salvation Falls faster than the fire that had wrecked Bertram’s former office. Wonderful. “Yes. That’s so. Unfortunately, it ended for reasons I do not care to get into—”

  Beckett interrupted. “She married Barstow instead of him.”

  “No! That is not—” Hell’s bells. He let out a frustrated breath. “Fine. Yes. She married someone else, but there was more to it than that.”

  Morgan rubbed at the ache in his chest whenever he thought of speaking with Willa in the church. Ha! Speaking. He couldn’t even remember what he’d said. All he remembered was that dang kiss filled with passion and fueling more desire than a body had a right to contain. He was pretty sure he’d apologized though—for the past, not the kiss. He wasn’t a bit sorry about that. And he was pretty sure he’d said he wanted to make amends, to shuck off this specter of guilt that clung to him like a shadow and to be given a second chance. But nothing said or done had convinced her. She wanted time. That likely wouldn’t end well for him if she started thinking about all the things he’d done wrong in the past and decided he wasn’t worth a second go.

  Donovan nodded, a knowing look in his eye. “Made a mistake, huh?”

  “What?” Morgan shook his head, realizing Donovan was speaking about the distant past, not the recent one. “Yeah, something like that.”

  “Guess you’re wanting to rectify that mistake, then,” Beckett observed.

  Morgan rubbed a hand down his face. The chair beneath him creaked. “I’m not sure I can rectify it.” Neither the past nor the present.

  “But you want to nonetheless,” Donovan said.

  “Wanting and getting is not the same thing,” he pointed out. He’d learned the reality of that the hard way.

  Beckett’s feet dropped to the ground and he stood. Though a quiet man by nature, he had a presence that made him impossible to ignore. Beckett might be a rancher now, but Morgan guessed that hadn’t always been the case. There was a dangerous edge to him, even when he appeared at ease.

  “Wanting,” Beckett said, glancing over his shoulder, “is the groundwork for getting. What you need is a plan.”

  “Oh, no, no, no, no.” Morgan cut his arms through the air as he stood up. This was getting out of hand. “I do not need any interference—”

  Donovan cut him off. “Yeah, you do. Look, here’s the thing about women—if you want to get back in their good graces, you can’t be pussyfooting around it. You need to be honest. Straightforward. Maybe make a grand gesture or something.”

  Beckett turned and leaned against the windowsill. “Sounds like solid advice to me.”

  “No, it isn’t. Look, neither of you know Red the way I do. She isn’t—”

  “Red?” The two other men said in tandem.

  Morgan cleared his throat. “It... It was a nickname I gave her.”

  “Hmm,” Donovan said while Beckett simply stood and looked at him with that piercing gaze that cut straight through a man. “Interesting.”

  “Go get yourself that haircut and buy a suit from the haberdashery,” Beckett said as he headed for the door, Donovan following behind.

  “Why?”

  The sheriff stopped, the light from the window catching his badge and glinting off the shiny star. “You’ll need it for the wedding.”

  “What wedding?”

  “Yours, Trent,” Donovan said as he left the office.

  Beckett poked his head back around the door. “And try to show up for this one, huh?”

  The two men’s footsteps echoed down the stairwell, leaving Morgan standing at his desk and staring at the closed door, wondering what on earth had just happened.

  Chapter Six

  Willa crossed the street, holding her skirts aloft to avoid the mixture o
f snow and muck that covered the ground. Life had resumed its regular pace now that the storm had passed and for that she was thankful. It helped keep her mind off the kiss she and Morgan had shared earlier in the week, though only with varying degrees of success. The evenings were the worst—having him within reach, wanting to be with him, yet afraid of risking her heart again. She’d lost countless hours of sleep tossing and turning, mulling over the pros and cons of giving their relationship a second chance. She still hadn’t reached a conclusion.

  Her heart jumped at the possibility, inundating her with images of the life she’d once dreamed of having as a loving wife to Morgan and mother to their children. But her head ordered caution. That dream belonged to a woman who had yet to experience the world with its harsh realities and infinite possibilities. She hadn’t really thought much about what her dreams were nowadays, but she wasn’t sure they were the same ones she’d had all those years ago.

  In a sense, Morgan’s abandonment had been a bit of a godsend. Yes, it had caused immeasurable hurt and led her down a dark path with respect to marrying Clancy. But she had survived and become a stronger person for having been through it. She’d learned more about herself through her hardships than she would have had her life sailed along on calm seas. And she liked the new woman she’d discovered along the way.

  Could she really turn her back on that? Did Morgan expect her to? She feared the answer might be yes. He’d referenced their old dreams when he’d spoken of a second chance. Had he considered that maybe hers had changed? That the old ones didn’t quite fit the same way as they had before? She doubted it.

  Willa stepped up onto the planked sidewalk and stomped the snow from her boots and shook the hem of her dress.

  “Good day, Mr. Carstock,” she said as the butcher approached her.

  The tall man tipped his cap to her and smiled. “To you as well, Mrs. Barstow. You tell Fritz I’ll have those cuts of beef to him within the hour.”

  “I will.”