Where They Belong: A Sweet Cheyenne Christmas Story (The Sweet Cheyenne Quartet Book 5)

by Caroline Lee

  Molly straightened again, briskly pushing her moment of hesitation behind them. *You shouldn’t have been here either.* Before Annie could object, though, her sister smiled. *But I am so, so glad that you were. I need to remember that you are not a little girl. Today you saved Hope.*

  Annie blushed, and looked down. All she’d done was listen to her other senses. Her family had always told her that she had a remarkable sense of smell, but she could also…feel more than others could. She always knew before Nate or Ash when one of the horses needed attention, and she could always tell when—to the day—one of her mares would drop a foal. Standing there this morning, holding her niece’s tiny body, she’d felt her heartbeat once, through her fingertips and down her arms and into her chest. It wasn’t until the third beat that Annie understood what it was, and then she was desperate to give the baby a chance.

  *I just held her. Reggie was the one who…* Who made her breathe. Who saved her life.

  Molly cocked her head to one side, watching her thoughtfully. Forcing herself not to blush, Annie locked her fingers through each other, so she couldn’t sign anything to give her feelings away.

  It didn’t matter. Molly knew, like she always knew. *You love him, don’t you?*

  Sighing, Annie finally nodded, and that was all her sister needed to open her arms and offer a hug. It felt so good to burrow into Molly’s embrace, like she had as a child. Her oldest sister had always been more of a mother to her, since their mother had died when Annie was so young, and she cherished the way Molly always smelled of vanilla and baked treats and home. Molly—and her family—had always been there for her, had always accepted her and supported her and loved her. Going to New York, seeing how those people reacted to her, seeing how formal and proper and demure that society was, had made her appreciate her family and her home even more. She knew that she belonged here, and could never go back to that beautiful world of crystal and flounces and staid people who didn’t accept her.

  But Reggie was a part of that world. Annie pressed her cheek against Molly’s shoulder, determined not to cry. She’d cried enough this Christmas. He was a part of that world, and she was a part of this world. She loved him, but she couldn’t go back there, not if she wanted to stay true to herself. To love herself.

  She was going to have to say goodbye to him, and that realization hurt more than anything else she’d experienced.

  As if she could sense Annie’s sorrow, Molly pulled back, and held her younger sister at arm’s length. After a long moment, she shook her head and smiled slightly. *You are sad, but you shouldn’t be. I had a nice talk with Reggie while you napped earlier, and he is a fine man.* Her smile said that she had a secret, but Annie was too wrapped up in her own sorrow to wonder about it. She’d have plenty of time to ask later, after Reggie left and she got back to her life on the ranch.

  Molly gave her another quick hug, and kissed her forehead. The gesture of acceptance was appreciated, but didn’t make Annie feel any better. *Go downstairs and talk to him. We’re going to the Selkirks’ for dinner in an hour while your sister rests. Make sure he knows he’s invited.*

  Annie sighed. Her sister was right; she needed to speak to Reggie. To thank him for what he did today, and what he did for her while she was in New York. For dancing with her, for being her friend. For teaching her about kissing, and the details of tongues and lips that she’d never guessed.

  Making little shooing motions, Molly pushed her towards the door. Before she knew it, Annie found herself halfway down the stairs. She stopped, gripping the beautifully carved banister. She’d spent years in this house, after Sebastian built it for Serena, and they sponsored her attendance to the public school in town. Then, once she’d gotten old enough, she’d traveled between here and the ranch, dividing her time between Serena’s charities and her own horses. There was always a bedroom here for her, or in the house down the street where Serena had grown up and her delightful twin aunts still lived. And as much as she loved life on the ranch, she still shared a room with her niece Rose.

  She ran her fingers over the polished wood and focused on the chandelier with its twinkling crystal and bunches of mistletoe that Serena hung everywhere. Was she destined to spend her life in someone else’s space? Would she ever be able to make her own place, where she belonged?

  Straightening her shoulders, Annie continued down the stairs and into the front parlor, where the men—minus Nate—were sitting. It looked like she’d interrupted something, judging from the laughter, but no one seemed to mind. Ash sat beside his oldest son Pete, and Noah sulked in the corner, probably missing his best friend Jacob. Sebastian lounged in one of the large leather chairs, and Reggie…

  Reggie came to his feet as she stepped into the room, his smile immediate and the joy on his face almost heart-breaking. She remembered the way he’d smiled at her that first day, at Grand Central Depot, and swallowed hard. Even then, she’d admired him, had admired him for years. But now, seeing the admiration in his gaze… Saying good-bye was going to be hard.

  But she’d do it, because it was better for them both. She belonged here, and he belonged in New York.

  Steeling herself, she crossed towards him, and was surprised when he began to move too. Her steps faltered as he stalked towards her, and met her in the center of the room. There was an intensity in his gaze now, a slight smile on those beautiful lips, and she couldn’t look away.

  “Reggie…”

  Had she been ready to say good-bye? To thank him for his escort and wish him a happy life? Would she have been able to? Annie never got the chance, because there—in front of her family and friends—Reggie reached his warm hand behind her neck and lowered his lips to hers.

  Last night, she would’ve said that she could cherish the memory of his kisses forever. Even this morning, prepared to say good-bye to him, she thought that one night had been enough.

  She was wrong.

  Held in his strong arms, her fingers reaching up to twine through his never-quite-perfect hair, feeling his heart beat and breathing the same breath… Annie knew it would never be enough. She loved this man. She loved him, and would never grow tired of his kisses.

  He was the one who broke away first, leaving her dizzy and wanting. From his crooked smile, he knew that. “I have something for you, Annie.” Something else? In her confusion, she looked over at Ash, who was grinning beside a grimacing Pete.

  Reggie must’ve noticed their audience then as well, because he rolled his eyes and grabbed her hand, pulling her through the door and out into the foyer. She stumbled along behind him, dazed and disoriented, until he tugged her to a stop under the grand chandelier. That’s when, to her further confusion, he pulled something out of one pocket. It was a bundle the size of his fist, and he stepped back slightly to bring it between the two of them. She watched as he slowly peeled the folds of his handkerchief away to reveal the miniature rocking horse ornament.

  Was he giving it to her? Did he know she’d taken the bells because she couldn’t bear to give up the reminder of their Christmas Eve together? Why would he give…? Annie glanced up at him in confusion.

  “I asked George to wrap up the remainder of the ornaments and ship them here.”

  “Why?”

  “For you.” He dropped a kiss to her nose. “For us. I could not save the tree, but we will always have these ornaments.”

  Annie still didn’t understand. Were they each going to take some of them? “What will we do with them?”

  He smiled. “We will put them on our last tree next year, on Christmas Eve. And then you will dance with me.”

  Annie’s heart lurched at his words. He wanted to spend next Christmas Eve with her? He thought that they would have a tree together? She opened her mouth to speak, but couldn’t make any sense of the jumble of feelings and questions in her mind, and so closed it again.

  Grinning, he took one of her hands and folded her fingers around the rocking horse. It was an odd present—the promise of a future.


  The promise of a future. It began to sink in, then, and Annie met his eyes, sure her expression reflected her astonishment and wonder.

  He kissed her again, a lingering touch that had her leaning into his embrace, and left her feeling hot and boneless and gooey again. Good Lord, she loved this man.

  Reggie pulled something else out from his pocket, and showed it to her. It was a lovely little notebook, just like the one he’d always carried with him. The cover was made from leather, and stamped into it was two initials: an “A” and an “R”.

  He’d made a notebook just for them. He’d understood that speaking was not easy for her, and he’d spent hours sitting and writing with her, and now he’d given them their own notebook. Annie pushed the ornament into her own pocket, and reached trembling fingers to trace the “R”.

  Looking up at him, she smiled. “For us?”

  He swallowed, and nodded. The possibility of a future, and now this? But he had one more surprise. Carefully, he folded the front cover back to reveal crisp white pages, the first one full of the bold scrawl she’d come to love.

  Annie, my love.

  Every day, you make me want to be a better man. I want to DO better, BE better, because of you. Thank you. You’ve shown me what real strength, real acceptance is, and it might be selfish of me, but I want to continue knowing that. I don’t want that as a memory—I want to know every day that you are with me, teaching me and showing me.

  You think that I belong in New York, which is where I thought I belonged too. But I’ve been apart from that Society since I joined the clinic. I’ve come to see them as the gilding on a world that needs my help. I want to make a difference, and I think I can, but not there. I don’t belong there.

  You belong here, and I belong with you. I want to stay here, in Cheyenne. I’ll open my own clinic, and beg you to help me. Or if you want to go to the ranch, I’m not afraid of hard work. I want to be with you. We belong together.

  Annie could barely see to read, when she finished. Her hands were trembling, and tears threatened to spill down her cheeks. She traced the words “Annie, my love” over and over again. Finally, she looked up at him, and saw a look of terror and hope in his eyes that made her want to gather him close, to comfort him.

  “You…” She swallowed. “You want to stay here?”

  “We belong together.” He’d written that. He was right.

  “If you open a clinic here, you will have plenty of patients.” And she would help him. She would always help him.

  Was it her imagination, or were his hands trembling when he flipped the page for her? He’d written more.

  I want a house like this one. I want a home where I can return every night to a wife who loves me and who cares about my day. I want companionship and partnership, and I hope that you want those things too.

  I want to start our own traditions, and I want to decorate Christmas trees with you each year, with our special ornaments. I want to spend the rest of our lives proving that you are perfectly imperfect, just like me, and that you are the strongest, gentlest, most special woman I’ve ever met.

  Marry me, Annie. Please. Let this book be the start of volumes. Let me save this one, to show our children how I proposed to their mother. Let us buy bookshelves for our conversations, over the years. Give me the chance to learn to communicate with you the way you were meant to, the way you want to. Give us the chance at a lifetime of memories.

  Marry me.

  Annie pulled the book tightly against her chest, pressing it there like she could imbed the words into her heart. Marry him, and stay here in Cheyenne. It was… a dream come true.

  But then she met his eyes, and saw that he had one more gift for her. A look of determination had replaced the confused jumble of emotions she’d seen on his face a moment before, and he straightened his shoulders. Lifting one hand between them, he slowly, laboriously spelled out the letters she’d dreamed of seeing.

  *I L-O-V-E Y-O-U.*

  He’d learned her sign. He’d learned to sign, for her, and the first thing he signed was that he loved her? It was… Annie ignored the tears rolling down her cheeks, and their audience, and threw herself into his arms. She kissed him with all of her being, not noticing when the book slipped from her fingers and dropped to the floor. Yes. Yes. “Yes!” She’d teach him sign, and would love him all the more for it.

  “So you will marry me?” She felt his question against her lips, and made him repeat it so that she could see it.

  Smiling, she pulled back to spell *I love you* slowly enough for him to read. When his eyes lit up, she knew that he understood.

  “Truly, Annie?”

  “Truly. I love you, Reggie.”

  “You will let me be a part of your future?”

  “You will always be a part of my future. A part of me.”

  He kissed her again, and she knew that he was a part of her. They’d created their own life, their own traditions, and next Christmas Eve they’d celebrate together. He was here with her, and they’d build a future together in Cheyenne.

  Where they belonged.

  AUTHOR’S NOTE On Historical Accuracy

  Since this is a novella, I have little to add to this section that you haven’t already learned in past Author’s Notes. For instance, to learn all about train travel and George the Porters (yes, there were many of them), read my note at the end of A Cheyenne Christmas Homecoming. And I covered the history of oralism—how it was considered the bee’s knees 150 years ago, but now is considered too absolute to be anything other than just a part of deaf education—in A Cheyenne Celebration. But I will say that it was loads of fun to research Gilded Age New York City for this story. The mansions of the wealthy lined Fifth Avenue, and it was easy to place the Carderock home among them. In fact, I based their home off of the grandeur of the Vanderbilt properties, down to the furnishings and architecture. If you haven’t seen the Biltmore Estate in Ashville, NC at Christmastime, I highly recommend it!

  And how could I possible write a story about the Gilded Age—so called because of the thin veneer of gold that covered the rottenness of society—without comparing the absolute wealth of families like the Carderocks to the day-to-day existence of people like the Gudowicz family? I hope that Reggie, who was able to see both sides of the “gilding,” helped readers understand the dichotomy of society at the time. For goodness’ sakes: he wears a doctor’s apron over his tuxedo! (The tuxedo was referred to as just a “dinner jacket” until around 1888, when society’s playboys and social elites wore it to events around Tuxedo Park in the Hudson Valley. As America’s answer to Beau Brummell, Griswold Lorillard popularized the new fashion—and new name—among Manhattan society.)

  I hope that you’ve enjoyed Annie’s story. I couldn’t stand the thought of her not getting her Happily Ever After, so I decided to add to the apparently inaccurately-named Sweet Cheyenne Quartet. And now that I have, I can tell you: There will be more. I love this family, and I’ll keep adding Christmas novellas ‘til I run out of characters to find Happily Ever Afters for!

  If you haven’t read the rest of the series, I suggest that you begin with A Cheyenne Christmas, the story of how the Murray sisters met the Barker brothers. My personal favorite of the bunch is Nate and Wendy’s story in A Cheyenne Christmas Homecoming, which might also help put Where They Belong in context. You can also rea learn all about Sebastian and Serena’s courtship, as well as oralism instruction in A Cheyenne Celebration (keep reading for a sneak peek!)!

  If you’ve enjoyed the history behind Where They Belong, I urge you to find me on Facebook or follow me on Twitter, where I frequently post fascinating pieces of social history that I find while researching. I also post increasingly snarky stories about my clumsiness, my kids, and my love of wine.

  Do you like reading historical westerns, and like hanging out with others who do too? Join us on the Pioneer Hearts Facebook page, where we have the most wonderful discussions, contests, and updates about new books!

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  From A Cheyenne Celebration:

  Well, that kiss had been… interesting.

  Serena was still thinking about it a few days later. Well, she hadn’t stopped thinking about it, truthfully. Her first kiss, and it had been… nice. Very nice, she supposed. It’s just that… well, she’d been expecting more. The heroines in Wendy’s gothic novels always had pounding hearts and shortness of breath, which the girls had interpreted to mean that the kisses must have been truly remarkable.

  But she hadn’t experienced any of that from Cam’s kiss. It was just two sets of lips, pressed against each other. His had been scratchy, which distracted her from whatever she was sure she was supposed to have been feeling.

  On the other hand, she could hardly fault him if she hadn’t gotten light-headed from his kiss, could she? Maybe there was something wrong with her? Maybe Cam’s kisses were spectacular, but she just couldn’t appreciate them. Maybe she needed another few tries?

  Unfortunately, her aunts hadn’t been much help. Oh, they’d seen the kiss, but since neither of them had been married, they couldn’t give her any sort of insight into kissing, and she didn’t dare ask them anything, for fear of the giggles. As it was, she’d had to spend the last two days listening to them debate between themselves the pros and cons of marrying Cam, as if they were the ones tying the knot! It was funny to listen to them argue, because neither could keep the same opinion for very long, jumping back and forth between “she should marry him” and “she doesn’t want to live out here for the rest of her life!” As soon as one twin would admit that the opposing point had some validity, the other twin would immediately switch opinions to argue. If they hadn’t been articulating exactly what Serena was debating with herself, she might have laughed at the absurdity.