The Christmas Confection (Hardman Holidays Book 6)

by Shanna Hatfield

  And what he wanted was to be someone people in town would respect, admire, and trust. He hadn’t invested the last five years of his life in becoming that man to easily toss it away. There wasn’t anything in the world that could force him to turn into someone like his father.

  The only thing Fred needed to figure out was how to protect the town and his loved ones until the sheriff could find a reason to arrest Curly. Fred had no doubt there had to be half a dozen wanted posters with the man’s likeness on them, but it might take a little time to procure one if the sheriff didn’t already have one in his possession.

  “I’ve seen you hanging around Gloria at the bakery. She might have the townspeople fooled into thinking she’s someone else, but the moment I saw you making calf eyes at her, I knew who she was. You still haven’t gotten over your infatuation for that girl.”

  Fred couldn’t very well tell Curly that Gloria and Elsa were two completely different people. In truth, when Elsa arrived in Hardman, Fred felt like he’d seen a ghost. One he’d known quite intimately and had, in his own boyish way, cared about.

  Yet, after his initial shock wore off, he realized Elsa couldn’t be the lost harlot. For one thing, an air of innocence hung about her. The whole time he’d known Gloria, innocent would be the last word he’d use to describe her.

  Additionally, Gloria never smiled with her eyes and heart the way Elsa did. The baker’s smile could light up the whole town, like a burst of sunshine on a dreary day.

  Elsa’s eyes were a deeper blue than Gloria’s, her figure a little curvier, her hair a little lighter. In Fred’s opinion, Elsa was far lovelier than Gloria had ever been.

  Then there was the simple, and incredibly complex, way Elsa captivated Fred’s soul. He’d never felt that way about Gloria, about anyone. Elsa owned his admiration, devotion, and soul-deep love. There wasn’t a single thing on earth he wouldn’t do to keep her safe and protected.

  And if that meant dealing with the trauma of his past and confronting a wanted outlaw, Fred wouldn’t hesitate to take on the challenge.

  “If Gloria has a key, what makes you think I need your help with anything?” Fred asked, pinning Curly with a calculating glare he’d seen his father use dozens of times on his men.

  Curly appeared to shrink under the intensity of Fred’s gaze that had taken on an almost frosty sheen. “Well, I… you know… I thought it could be like the old days with your pa. Me and you and Gloria could have us a high ol’ time if we found that gold. I’ve been trying to get to Gloria, but between you and that idiot she claims is her brother, she’s never alone. I’m sure I could coerce her into telling me what she knows. Unless you think you can get it out of her.”

  Fred knew telling Curly to leave Elsa alone would only make him race to her door. He needed time to think, to formulate a plan. “Tell you what, Curly. Let me ponder the best way to get what we both want. Why don’t you meet me tomorrow afternoon? By then, I should have an idea of where to look for dear ol’ dad’s hideout.”

  Curly stared at him for the length of several heartbeats then slowly nodded his head. “All right, Decker. Meet me at the edge of town, past the schoolhouse, tomorrow about this time. And you better not try to pull anything over on me because, like your pa taught me, I don’t ever go anywhere all alone.”

  Fred nodded once and watched as Curly walked to the end of the alley, picked up his rifle, and disappeared.

  Convinced Curly’s men most likely watched his every move, Fred made his way to the livery. In quiet, hushed tones, he asked Douglas to locate the sheriff and have the man meet Fred at the newspaper office.

  Tom Grove was the closest thing Fred had to a best friend, beyond Elsa, and would be able to help him devise a plan to keep everyone safe.

  Chapter Nineteen

  An hour later, Fred, Tom, and the sheriff went over the details of a rudimentary plan to capture Curly and his gang. They’d need to involve Luke Granger and Arlan Guthry, but Fred couldn’t imagine the two bankers would hesitate to help when they found out why.

  In addition, the men devised a way to get Fred’s aunts and Elsa safely out of town before Curly decided to use one of them for leverage to force Fred’s cooperation.

  The sheriff dispatched one of the deputies to intercept the stage and switch places with the driver. He’d make sure the women arrived in Heppner at the train station unscathed.

  Now, Fred just needed to convince his aunts and Elsa to leave Hardman that evening. His aunts were due to leave in the morning anyway. They could spend the night in Heppner and be ready to leave on tomorrow’s train heading East.

  While he went to Granger House to collect his aunts, Tom kept an eye on the front of the bakery from the newspaper office across the street. The sheriff planned to patrol the back of the building to make sure no one attempted to break in. Tom sent one of his staff to the school with a message for Anna Jenkins to stay away from the bakery after school.

  Nerves and fury fueled Fred’s steps as he made his way to Granger House. He took the front steps in two giant strides and tapped on the door. Filly opened it with a smile, but one look at his face made a happy greeting die on her lips.

  “What is it, Fred? What’s happened?” she asked, stepping back as he strode inside, closing the door behind him.

  “Let’s just say my past caught up with me today.” Fred removed his hat and offered Filly a reassuring smile. “I need to get my aunts out of town immediately.”

  Claire poked her head around the parlor door and smiled. “I thought I heard you out here, Fred. Come in by the fire and warm up for a moment. Filly made the most delicious little cakes and the tea tastes like Christmas.”

  Fred smiled at his aunt, so innocent and youthful, so full of dreams. He loved her, loved all three of his aunts, as he would cherished sisters. Because of that love, he’d do whatever was necessary to keep them safe.

  In spite of his smile, Claire leaned closer and studied him. “Something happened, nephew. What’s wrong?”

  Realizing the fastest way to get his aunts to cooperate was most likely by telling them the truth, Fred quickly related to them about Curly, the outlaw’s belief Elsa was Gloria, and his plans to get all four women safely out of town.

  “Oh, my,” Bett said, sitting back in her chair and fanning her face with a copy of Ladies’ Home Journal. “I’m so sorry, Fred. We certainly never meant for our presence here to bring you trouble.”

  Fred gaped at his aunt then dropped to one knee in front of her chair, taking her hand in his. “Auntie Bett, there isn’t a single thing you three have done that was wrong, unless you want to count spoiling me beyond reason while you’re here. I’ve loved every minute I got to spend with you, but I’d never be able to forgive myself if something happened to the three of you. Never. Please, just get on this evening’s stage and go home. I’ll pack up your things and ship them later, but I feel it’s best we get you out of Hardman as quickly as possible.”

  “As much as we’d prefer to stay with you, Fred, to help you, I know you’ll rest easier with us at home, out of harm’s way,” Ari said, moving to rest a hand on Fred’s shoulder.

  He reached up with the hand not holding Bett’s and gave Ari’s a squeeze. “Thank you for understanding. I hate to send you home sooner than planned, but I really can’t think of a better way to keep you all safe than to get you far away from here. If you’ll take Elsa with you, I can focus on catching Curly and his gang.”

  “We’ll take care of Elsa, if you can convince her to leave,” Claire said, moving to Fred’s other side. “How are you going to talk her into leaving the bakery?”

  “I haven’t figured that part out yet, but I’ll think of something.”

  The three sisters eyed each other then looked to Filly and Ginny as they stood nearby.

  “It’s a good thing Dora has already gone home or she’d faint from the excitement of all this,” Filly said to Ginny, making Fred’s aunts smile.

  He rose to his feet and glanced at the c
lock on the fireplace mantel. “Tom sent someone out to get Murtag and have him purchase tickets for the stage. I’ll have him come get you just before the stage arrives.” Fred looked to Filly. “That is, if you don’t mind them waiting here.”

  “Of course they’ll wait here. It’s warm and safe.” Filly placed a gentle hand on his arm as he moved past her. “I’m so sorry this is happening, Fred. It’s so unfair…”

  Fred held up a hand, as though to hold back her pity. “I just want to keep anyone else from getting hurt. Thank you, for keeping an eye on my aunts.”

  Uncertain when he’d see them again, he gave each one of his aunts a long hug, kissed their cheeks, then walked with them to the door.

  “I love you all, so much,” he said, emotion clogging his throat and making it hard to speak. “No matter what happens, I’m so grateful I had the privilege of spending time with you.”

  Without giving the women another look, Fred hurried out the door and jogged back into town. He ran into Murtag near the bank and stopped to make sure he’d purchased five tickets for the stage and knew what to do. He sent Murtag on his way to Granger House then carefully worked his way through several alleys to the back of the bakery. He didn’t want Curly or one of his men seeing him go in the front. Who knew what the outlaw would do if he thought Fred was trying to outsmart him.

  Fred raised his hand to tap on the back door when he noticed it stood ajar. The lock was broken and the doorknob rested in the snow at his feet. Fear spiraled through him, not for himself, but for what Curly might have done to Elsa. Fred pulled his Colt revolver from the gun belt on his hip and pushed open the door.

  He waited a moment then stepped into the doorway, ready to fire. A pot of soup bubbled on the stove and the yeasty scent in the air assured him bread baked in the oven. A half-finished pie crust rested on the floured top of the counter next to several jars of preserved cherries.

  Silently, Fred stepped across the kitchen and looked into the front room. Nothing was amiss there. He retraced his steps then hurried to the stairs. Drops of blood on the steps sent him racing upward. At the top, he found Elsa’s apartment door broken and hanging by one hinge. The front room was undisturbed, but the small table in her kitchen had been upturned and a knife with blood on the tip drew his gaze to the floor.

  A prayer winged from his heart heavenward that Elsa wasn’t the one hurt.

  “Elsa?” he bellowed, hoping she’d answer. He looked in her bedroom, the bathroom, the storage room, but she wasn’t there.

  Fred had no doubt Curly had taken her. Most likely the man had broken in immediately after speaking to Fred. The one guaranteed way to force Fred’s compliance was to take something he valued. And even Curly knew Fred treasured Elsa. No matter that the man thought she was Gloria, the fact remained that Fred had feelings for her and Curly would use that to his advantage.

  Clattering back downstairs, Fred set the pot of soup in the sink, took the bread from the oven and tried to think where Curly might have taken Elsa.

  Would the outlaw still meet him tomorrow afternoon, as they discussed, or had he kidnapped Elsa, thinking she would direct him to Joe’s old hideout?

  Fred knew the sheriff had been watching the alley and suddenly wondered why the man hadn’t noticed the back door being open.

  With his gun in his hand, Fred ran back outside and jumped over a fence then crossed through three yards until he made his way to where the sheriff said he’d stay positioned with a pair of field glasses. Fred found the man unconscious with a lump the size of a goose egg on the back of his head.

  “Sheriff?” Fred held the man upright and tapped his cheeks. “Sheriff, can you hear me?”

  Groggy, the sheriff opened pain-glazed eyes and blinked at Fred. “What happened, son?”

  “Elsa’s gone. I think Curly took her. One of his men must have followed you and clonked you on the head. Can you walk?”

  The sheriff nodded and, with Fred’s help, got to his feet. “Let’s round up a posse and go after them.”

  “You’re in no shape to ride, especially not in the cold. Would you keep an eye on my aunts? They are still at Granger House. I think it would be good if they went ahead and left, if you can talk them into getting on the stage.”

  “I think I’d rather ride with the posse,” the sheriff said, giving Fred a weak smile as they made their way toward Main Street.

  Fred couldn’t waste time rounding up a posse or waiting for someone to devise a new plan. He had to find Elsa.

  Right now, Curly and his men could be doing unspeakable things to her, things that… Fred closed his mind to the horrid possibilities. “I’m going after her. Please just take care of my aunts.”

  Before the sheriff could argue, Fred left him standing on the boardwalk in front of Bruner’s store and ran toward the livery where he’d left Festus.

  Douglas wasn’t there when Fred raced inside. It took him no time to saddle the horse and ride him back to the bakery. There, he found three sets of footprints. Two were larger, one very small. And there were drops of blood glaring crimson against the white snow.

  “I’m coming, Elsa. Hold on, honey. Just hold on.”

  Fred followed the footprints to where they met up with several others prints back by the skating rink. The footprints blended with prints from horse hooves before the tracks led east of town.

  He swung onto the back of Festus and followed them.

  Hours later, Fred stopped Festus and left him ground tied as he edged his way up to a ridge. If it wasn’t for the moonlight glowing brightly overhead, he’d have been forced to give up trailing Curly and go home. As it was, he could see seven riders making their way across the snow in the moonlight.

  One of the riders seemed small and helpless as she clung to the saddle. What if Curly didn’t let her put on her coat. Was Elsa adequately dressed for the cold?

  Fred eased back down the ridge and swung onto Festus. “I know you’re tired, Fes, but we can’t lose sight of Elsa. We have to keep going.”

  The horse tossed his head, as though he agreed, and they continued on their way. Fred had no idea how he’d battle six outlaws and save Elsa, but he needed to come up with an idea or two. The only good thing about the men riding hard was that Elsa was safer on the back of a horse than she was if they made camp. If Curly and his men truly believed her to be Gloria, they’d expect certain… favors. Favors Elsa would refuse to offer. Favors that would get her beaten or killed.

  Fred hated his father more in that moment than he had all the years of his childhood. And part of him even despised his mother. She had to have known, had some idea that her husband wasn’t who he pretended to be. Hadn’t she? She’d always been so busy gossiping about others, pointing fingers at the imperfections of her neighbors, he wondered if that was to keep people from examining her less-than-perfect life too closely.

  Mildred Decker had proved to be a woman full of secrets. How Fred wished she were still alive to share some of them with him, to answer the rapidly multiplying questions popping around in his head like popcorn in a hot skillet.

  Had his mother known of Joe’s hideout in the mountains? Had she suspected what he did all the weeks and months he spent away from home? How could she blindly turn away from the wretched things her husband did? Had she really been oblivious to Joe’s faults?

  She had to have known something of Joe’s flaws, his background, because she’d hidden Fred’s inheritance from him. With Luke and Arlan’s help, Fred had also tracked down a secret account his mother had in a bank in Heppner. The staggering total of the funds left Fred a very wealthy man, but he didn’t care about the money.

  The one thing, person, he cared most about in the world was Elsa and he’d do anything to get her safely back home.

  Chapter Twenty

  Jaw clamped to keep her teeth from chattering aloud, Elsa wouldn’t give her captors the satisfaction of seeing how the cold affected her.

  She still had no idea who these men were or what they wanted wi
th her. They all called her Gloria and refused to listen when she tried to explain she wasn’t the harlot they sought, but merely a girl who liked to bake.

  The bald man who appeared to be in charge, a despicable reprobate named Curly, had backhanded her the last time she insisted she wasn’t Gloria. The cut on her lip still stung, even numbed by the cold December air.

  Elsa’s mind replayed how she’d ended up tied to the back of a horse that raced across the hills in the moonlight. She’d been in the kitchen making canned cherry pies while soup simmered on the stove and loaves of bread baked in the oven. The Christmas tune she hummed as she worked had made her smile as she thought about how happy life had seemed the last few days.

  Ethan and Lottie were doing their best to carry their share of the work at the bakery. Elsa had given up her plans to loathe her sister-in-law for all eternity and started getting to know the woman. With time, she thought they might even become friends. Pleased by this change between the two women he loved, Ethan had even been teasing and joking again, referring to Elsa by her nickname and making her laugh.

  Anna’s help had given Elsa the extra hands she needed to get caught up on her holiday baking. Additionally, the girl was full of energy and Elsa enjoyed listening to her chatter about school, Percy, and her family each day.

  Fred’s aunts had turned the apartment into a lovely, welcoming home for her. She’d felt so blessed by their warmth and kindness. She would miss the three women when they returned to Philadelphia, but was grateful for the opportunity to become friends with them while they visited Fred.

  And then there was Fred. No matter how hard she tried, Elsa couldn’t help but experience a warm, decadent feeling each time she thought of the man. Although she knew nothing would come of her yearnings for the humble man, she wondered what it would be like to be loved by Fred. She’d even started to consider that experiencing true love would be far more fulfilling and wonderful than pursuing her goal to have the best bakery in the country.