A Western Christmas Homecoming: Christmas Day Wedding Bells ; Snowbound in Big Springs ; Christmas with the Outlaw

by Lynna Banning

  “You’re not going to finish your tea?”

  “No. I believe I have enough information to get started. Thank you, Sheriff. I’ll contact you if I have any more questions.” She stuffed her pencil over her ear, gathered her coat and rushed out.

  * * *

  Oh, this was dreadful! She wasn’t sure how she made it across the street and through the front door of the Gazette office. She threw her belongings onto the counter, not caring about the possibility that ink might get on her coat. “Teddy! Teddy!”

  “Back here!” He was hunkered down behind the printer.

  “You need to see this!” She glanced about the room to make sure no one else was there. “It’s about Russell Carter!”

  Teddy straightened up. “Russ? It’s been a few years.”

  “Well, yes. I know. Four at least. He’s gotten himself into trouble.”

  “What has he done now?”

  She wasn’t surprised at Teddy’s attitude. Russ had instigated a fair amount of mischief and pulled her brother in with him in the past, but nothing like this! “I don’t think his smile or his good looks will be enough to get him out of it. His face is on a wanted poster! The sheriff just asked me to write up an article for the paper.”

  He frowned. “Here, let me see that.” He repositioned his round glasses on the bridge of his nose and spread the poster out on the counter.

  She repeated the sheriff’s words.

  Slowly, Teddy folded the paper and met her gaze. “This is bad.”

  “What about the sheriff’s request? Must we follow it?”

  “I am surprised to hear you say that. I thought you never forgave Russ.”

  Her brother’s words brought back memories she’d rather not dredge up. They’d been a threesome—her brother and Russ and Tim—and at seventeen, she had set her cap for Tim. Then Russ had fixated on heading West to mine in Colorado. He convinced Tim to go with him. Her dreams had been crushed.

  “That’s neither here nor there. Russ was your friend. This is a blow.”

  “I never thought he’d kill a man.” Teddy sighed. “Makes me think there is more to the story.”

  “I should go ahead with the article?” The idea still bothered her. “I suppose there is no other way?”

  “We can’t manipulate the law for our own—or a friend’s—gain.”

  “That was Russ’s problem. He could smile his way out of any situation.” The things he’d gotten away with had irked her to no end.

  “Looks like things have caught up with him.” Teddy turned back toward his office. “Hard to work after news like this. Think I’ll call it a day.”

  She watched from the doorway as he hung up his apron and shrugged into his overcoat, a bit envious that he had a wife and daughter waiting at home for him. Once he was gone, she locked the door and pulled the dark green blind on the front window. When they’d first started in Oak Grove, they had burned the oil lamps late into the night, working hard to make their fledgling business successful. When Teddy married, he wanted more time with his family and so had curtailed that. Now, with the days growing shorter and colder, no one ever stopped in after dark.

  After a bite of cheese, a sourdough roll and warmed-up coffee, she carried the coffeepot out the back door and tossed the leftover coffee and grounds onto her garden plot. Dusk had settled over the town. Lamplight flickered in the front window of the doctor’s house. A shiver went through Abigail as she realized how chilled she’d become standing there. Quickly, she turned and hurried back inside.

  She lit a candle from the dying embers in the stove, poured herself a glass of water from the pitcher and headed upstairs, taking the poster of Russell Carter with her.

  Chapter Three

  The next morning when she descended to the main floor of the shop, sunlight streamed in the front windows and pans rattled in the kitchen. A rich aroma wafted her way. Teddy had the coffee brewing.

  “Good morning,” she said, stepping into the kitchen. A pan sat on the stove, alongside the coffeepot. “You’ve made breakfast?”

  He plunked a bowl of creamed wheat in front of her and handed her the crock of honey. “I have a meeting with the building committee this morning.”

  “Then why are you bothering with my breakfast?”

  “You’ve lost weight. Hannah noticed it at church on Sunday. You’re not eating since I moved out.”

  “I’m fine.” She couldn’t very well tell him that she didn’t like to eat by herself.

  “You get distracted and forget.”

  “Well, I’ve been caught up in a new book. I’m afraid the oil lamp was still burning when I awoke this morning.”

  Teddy shook his head. “You know that you can always join us for supper. Hannah has mentioned it several times.”

  “Don’t be silly. You need your time with your family. Once a week on Sunday is quite enough. Besides I have every intention of becoming a better cook.”

  He raised his brows, but didn’t reply, instead downing the last of his coffee. “I need to get to the meeting.” The bells above the front door jangled as he left.

  It was toasty warm in the kitchen. She ate, wondering absently how her brother got the creamed wheat so perfectly smooth. Surely it couldn’t be that difficult.

  A muffled scrape...sounded down the hall.

  She lowered her spoon. A mouse? This was certainly the season for them. They sought warmth and sustenance inside as much as any person would this time of year. Oh, how she detested rodents.

  There it is again!

  Situations like this, she wished Teddy still lived here. Slowly she stood and grasped the broom from the corner, prepared to sweep whatever she found out the back door. She only hoped it wasn’t larger than a mouse. At that thought, she paused. Now that she considered it, it did sound larger than a mouse. Not a rat. Surely not a rat...

  She scanned Teddy’s office. Nothing amiss there. She tiptoed farther down the short hall toward the storage room. Her heart pounded. It was ridiculous to be so intense about such a small creature, but that didn’t change the fact that she was. Gripping the broom in one hand and clasping the doorknob with the other, she took a deep breath and slowly opened the door.

  A man! At the far wall, atop the piles of old newspapers, lay a man! He was curled up, facing away from her. His shoulder shifted ever so slightly with his ragged breathing. In... Out... In... Out...

  “You, there!” she said, mustering her sternest voice. “Just what do you think you are doing?”

  No response. Was he a vagrant? The quality of his overcoat certainly didn’t look the part, although it was caked with mud. How in the world had he gained entrance? She’d locked the doors last night, hadn’t she?

  She jabbed the stiff bristles of her broom into his back. “You there! You have to leave. Speak to the preacher if you are in a bad fix. You can’t stay here.”

  He began to move, slowly at first, and then he flopped over to his back. A groan broke the dried seam of spittle on his lips.

  Good heavens! It was Russ!

  She dropped the broom and rushed to him. “Russ! What happened? What...?”

  He was so pale! His lips were cracked and dry, his breathing shallow, his eyes closed. There was a scrape and bruise on his cheek. Blood stained his brocade vest. She drew back, fisting her hand. “Oh, Russ. You’ve been hurt.”

  His eyes fluttered open, unfocused. Although dull in the shadows of the storage room, she remembered in the sunlight they had dazzled her, shining crystal blue.

  “I’m Abigail. Do you remember me?” she asked.

  His brows furrowed, but then slowly he nodded—a subtle, barely there movement of his head.

  “You’re hurt. I’ll go for the doctor.” Her heart was pounding. Lord, don’t let him die!

  “No doctor. Water,” he rasped out the words, then a cough racked hi
s body. He grimaced with pain.

  Water. Yes. That might help. She rushed to the kitchen, grateful that Teddy had already seen to filling the pitcher from the well that morning. She poured half a cup and carried it back to him. Squirming her hand under his neck, she supported his head and held the cup to his lips. He took a sip and then, exhausted from the effort, dropped his head back and closed his eyes.

  She waited, hoping he would gather his strength and explain to her what had happened. She studied him further. His mustache could use trimming, along with his weeks’ worth of whiskers. He was still one of the most handsome boys—she corrected herself—men, she knew. Yes, he was definitely a man now.

  “Please let me fetch the doctor for you. You’ve been bleeding. I don’t know anything about taking care of wounds or sickness.”

  “No. I just need to rest.” A shiver coursed through him.

  This storage area was the coldest room. The outside wall faced north and there was no stove or fireplace. It was a good place to store things, but not an injured man.

  “I’ll get a blanket.” She hurried up the stairs to Teddy’s old room and ripped the two from his bed. She grabbed the pillow too. When she returned, Russ hadn’t moved.

  A pile of newspapers made for a hard, uncomfortable bed, but she had no idea what else to do. She couldn’t manage moving him. She did her best to straighten him out and then covered him, tucking in the edges of the woolen blankets around him, then she wedged the pillow under his head.

  She held the cup of water to his lips once more. When he felt the pressure of the rim, he raised up slightly and drank, greedier this time. He opened his eyes. “Thanks, Angel,” he croaked, and then dropped his head once more to the pillow.

  Angel? Truly the man did not remember her. He could save his insincere endearments for another woman—one more gullible.

  As she watched, his breathing evened out, so much so that she presumed he’d drifted off to sleep. His face lost some of its pastiness. His tousled, dark brown hair needed a wash. Actually, most of him did by the looks of his wrinkled clothing and muddy boots. And she worried about his wound. That needed attention.

  Where was Teddy? This was his predicament. Not hers. Russ was his friend. She didn’t want him here, dragging her or Teddy into whatever mess he’d made. Murder. It was still so hard to believe.

  And he was hurt. She frowned at the thought. She couldn’t let that sway her. Likely any injury was his own fault.

  She stepped closer. “Russ? Russell?” When he didn’t make any movement, she took hold of the blanket and drew it down slowly. “I’m just going to check that area where you were bleeding. I want to make sure it has stopped and see if I should bandage it.” As she spoke, she unbuttoned his vest and then his shirt.

  Black hair peppered his chest. On his right side, near his waist, blood oozed slowly from the center of a congealed glob. It was the size of her fist! She couldn’t fix this. She raised her gaze and found him watching her, his eyes mere slits in his face. “You need a doctor. Please.”

  He shook his head. “No one can know I’m here.”

  Frustrated, she marched from the room. She might not have gotten on well with him, but she didn’t want him dying! She counted to ten, then grabbed a clean towel from the kitchen cupboard, folded it and returned, pressing it against the wound.

  Russ clenched his teeth and groaned.

  She released the pressure slightly. “What caused this? A knife? A bullet? A stick?”

  Bells jingled, announcing someone’s entry into the office.

  Great. Just great. Why didn’t Teddy get back here and help?

  “Miss White? Miss Abigail?”

  Patty! That’s all she needed. She pulled the covers up to his chin. “Be still. And be quiet.”

  Patty waited at the counter at the front of the shop. The girl shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “You have no idea how excited I am about working with you. What did you think about my writing? Will you take me on?”

  Abigail didn’t have time for this! She needed to get back to Russ. Then she spied the stubby end of a pencil poking through Patty’s thick auburn hair, just over her ear. Something softened inside her. On a sigh, she withdrew the two folded papers from her apron pocket. “These are well written. You are aware that reporting won’t be the same as a short piece of fiction or a persuasive argument.”

  “Oh, I understand that!”

  “And what about a tighter focus for your idea?”

  Patty grinned. “Since you thought that asking each child what they wanted for Christmas encouraged selfishness rather than the giving spirit of the holiday, I decided to make it about something bigger. Something that everybody would benefit from.”

  “Can you elaborate?”

  “It would force the children to think of others. Not just themselves.”

  “An example, please?”

  “Well...for instance, in the summertime there is no shade anywhere in town except for a few covered boardwalks. Wouldn’t it be nice to ask for seedlings to plant about the town? Perhaps one by the school for shade when the children play out of doors and one by the church for our summer ice-cream social. Another example would be a few benches down by the river for people to sit on when they fish or take a Sunday stroll?”

  Abigail remembered the park she’d played in when she was young. There had been a lake...with small boats for people to use. “It’s a much better idea.”

  Patty beamed. “Then...I may begin interviewing the children?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Eee! I can’t wait to tell Miss Burnett! I’m going to have my first published article!” Suddenly, Patty danced forward and hugged Abigail—a quick, excited squeeze. “I have to get home. Oh, thank you, Miss White! Thank you!” She rushed out the door.

  Abigail stared after her, dazed by the girl’s enthusiasm. And her hug. She wasn’t used to being hugged.

  “You promised to publish it without even setting eyes on it?” Teddy said from behind her.

  She startled. She hadn’t heard him come in the back way. “Her writing samples were good.”

  “It could be rubbish.”

  “I’ll help her.”

  Her brother raised his brows. “I believe you are getting soft, Abigail White.”

  She suddenly remembered about Russ. Dropping the writing samples on the counter, she took Teddy’s hand and dragged him toward the back room. “Come quick!”

  He followed her to the storage room, stopping short when he saw that a man lay on top of the pile of newspapers.

  “It’s Russ.”

  He met her gaze, then looked back at his friend. “Is he conscious?”

  “He’s been injured. There is a wound on his right flank.”

  Teddy raised his brows. “You didn’t get the doctor?”

  “He bid me not to. Teddy...what are we going to do? What if the sheriff finds him?”

  “Not a word of this to anyone until we can sort this out.”

  Between the two of them, somebody had to be the voice of reason. “But he is wanted by the law! If we keep quiet, we’ll...we’ll be implicated. We could lose everything we’ve worked so hard for! Keep in mind that it’s not just us anymore. There’s Hannah and Dorie to think of too.”

  Teddy lowered his shoulders with that weight.

  “It’s been four years since we last saw him. We don’t know what he’s been doing since he left Missouri. People do change and not always for the good.”

  “Not that much. Not on the inside.”

  She pressed her lips together. “It is dangerous for us to help him. Teddy, he is your friend. I realize that makes this difficult.”

  “I think you are as confused as I am over how to manage this.”

  She sighed. There were too many variables, too many what-ifs bumping around in her head. “
We are taking such a risk. What if he dies? What then?”

  “We can’t let that happen.”

  Suddenly Russ flung his arm out, and his eyes opened to stare, glassy and unfocused, at the flickering light of the candle. Sweat coated his face. Alarmed, she shoved the candle plate at her brother and peeled back the cover to Russ’s waist. Fresh blood seeped through the clean towel over his wound.

  He grasped her wrist. “The whole place is going to blow!” he said urgently, his eyes wild. “Get out of here! Run!”

  He wasn’t himself! The strength he still possessed in his grip surprised her. She was frightened. “Oh, Russ. I have to get the doctor. I must.” She feared what might happen if she waited a second longer.

  He didn’t seem to comprehend her.

  Teddy met her gaze, his own uneasy. “Go.”

  She flung her heavy shawl over her shoulders and hurried out the back door.

  A thin layer of icy dew clung to the brittle shoots of dead grass and crunched under her shoes as she ran past her barren garden plot and the outhouse to the next street. Dr. Graham lived only a stone’s throw away, the first house on the corner.

  Sylvia, his wife, answered her knock. The scent of frying bacon wafted out to Abigail.

  “What is it, Miss White?” The doctor asked, coming to the door a second behind his wife.

  “A friend is feverish.”

  He threw on his coat and grabbed his black bag, which sat ready by the door, and followed her.

  She led him into the storage room. In the time she’d been gone, Teddy had lit the lamp and hung it from the ceiling hook. “He was injured a few days ago and doesn’t seem to be healing.”

  The doctor nodded briefly to her brother and then leaned over Russ to examine him. He drew down the covers and peeled away the dressing. “This needs attention. Bring a bowl of warm water and several clean cloths.”

  She hurried to the kitchen and filled a pan with water. As she waited for it to warm, Teddy and the doctor appeared at the doorway, supporting Russ between them. “We’re moving him up to my old room. The lighting will be better there for the doc.”