His Christmas Sweetheart

by Cathy McDavid

  The red pickup stopped alongside the van, and Sam got out. With a friendly wave, his wife continued down the drive, their three-year-old pressing her face to the window.

  “How did it go?” Miranda asked Sam.

  “It was nice.”

  She waited and when he said nothing more, asked, “That’s it? Nice?”

  “Kinda long. What about you guys?” His glance encompassed the group. “Enjoy yourselves?”

  “Men. I swear.” Miranda looked injured, as did Babs. “It was a wedding. The most romantic moment in a person’s life. And you describe it as nice and long?”

  “The food was good.”

  “The food!”

  “We couldn’t stay. Annie had to get the girls home.”

  Miranda slapped her forehead.

  Will suppressed a chuckle. He was the one usually in the doghouse for being insensitive and didn’t mind sharing it for a change.

  “Goodbye, Mom.” He hugged Mrs. Litey, and then supported her as she climbed clumsily into the van.

  “Joseph?” Gone was the confident and poised curator of the Gold Nugget. In her place was the octogenarian with Alzheimer’s.

  “It’s okay.” He patted her affectionately. “Everything will be all right.”

  “You’re a good man.” The lines of tension on her face lessened. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your visits and humoring an old lady.”

  For the first time, Will thought she recognized him as himself and wasn’t confusing him with her late son. “You’re one of my favorite people.” He meant every word.

  She squeezed his hand. “See you soon?”

  “Very soon.” Regardless of how he felt about Miranda, he wouldn’t disappoint Mrs. Litey.

  When all the residents were settled in, he slid the door shut. Nell was next. After giving her a hand up, he tipped his hat and said, “Ma’am.”

  “Oh, you.” She giggled and pushed him away. “Get out of here.”

  Miranda and Sam were chatting, not about the wedding.

  “No, there hasn’t been one construction truck parked out front for the past two weeks,” she said, apparently in answer to his inquiry. “Thank you for taking care of that.”

  “Wasn’t my intention to cause you problems.”

  “Boss,” Will interrupted, “I’ll catch up with you later.” He nodded at Miranda. There were three hours of daylight left. More than enough time.

  “You heading to the Dividend Mine?” Sam asked.

  “I’ll clear as much of the trail as I can. Make a list of what more needs doing.”

  “What’s at the Dividend Mine?” Miranda fished her keys from her coat pocket.

  “A new excursion for the guests,” Sam answered. “Mining for gold.”

  “Cool! But the Windfall Claim is closer and easier to get to. It’s also in an area untouched by the fire. Less debris to clear.” She lifted one shoulder. “Just saying.”

  “I thought the Windfall Claim was privately owned,” Sam said.

  “It was. Until a few years ago. The claim, that entire section of land, actually, was sold to the federal government when the owner died. His heirs didn’t want it.”

  “And, because it’s federal land—”

  “It’s open to the public,” Miranda finished for Sam.

  “Are you by chance looking for a job? I can use a good mining guide.”

  “Very funny.”

  He grinned. “I like the way you think, Miranda. What about you, Will?”

  “It’s a good idea.” It was a good idea. “Except for that one slope along the western face. It’s steep. Maybe too steep for our less experienced riders.”

  “You can bypass the slope. There’s a shortcut.”

  “Where?”

  “The Ten Mile Trail.”

  “Never heard of it.” Will had ridden the mountains surrounding Sweetheart nearly every day for the past five years. If there was a trail to be ridden, he’d done it.

  “It’s not well-known. Intersects with the Spur Cross Trail along the north half, at the base of Grey Rock Point. My father used to take us kids there when the land was privately owned. He wasn’t supposed to, but he did anyway.”

  “I can’t picture it.”

  “Me, either,” Sam agreed.

  “I could show you,” Miranda offered. “The Windfall Claim really is a lot closer to the ranch. And the stream there is plenty deep enough for your guests to pan for gold.”

  “You willing to take Miranda with you?” Sam asked Will.

  Not what he wanted, but he could hardly say no in front of his boss. “When’s your next day off?”

  “I could go now. Nell will drive the van back.”

  “Now?”

  Sam jumped on the bandwagon. “Great! You can ride, right?”

  “Been a while.” Miranda laughed. “But as long as you don’t give me a bronc, I’ll manage.”

  “What are you waiting for?” Sam slapped Will on the back. “Saddle up.”

  Yeah, saddle up, Will thought, feeling completely ambushed.

  Miranda and Sam together were an unstoppable force.

  Chapter Eight

  Miranda knew enough not to fire questions at Will. He wouldn’t answer them anyway. She and Sam had coerced Will into taking her along with him. Not the best way to go about loosening his tongue.

  She settled for riding quietly behind him down the winding drive from the ranch to the main road. There they hugged the side, avoiding the occasional passing vehicle.

  Patches of snow from the last flurry still covered the ground. If the next storm was as bad as the weathercasters were predicting, the mountains would soon be impassable.

  He turned in his saddle, one hand braced on the back, the other holding the reins. His body rocked in rhythm to the horse’s easy gait. “You doing okay?”

  Conversation. Well, well.

  “Just dandy.” She smiled winningly. Once he resumed looking straight ahead, she grimaced.

  What had she done? Wanting to spend time alone with Will had skewed her thinking. Her knees were already starting to throb and her calves ached.

  Miranda hadn’t lied to Sam—she’d spent a great part of her youth riding friends’ horses. Her youth, not her recent past. She was definitely out of shape—at least the muscles required for riding were out of shape.

  And she was cold! Her lightweight gloves had been fine for touring the ranch. But they were practically worthless when it came to a winter horse ride in the mountains.

  They turned onto the well-marked Spur Cross trailhead. “How far is the junction with Ten Mile Trail?” Will asked.

  “About another quarter mile.” And then it would be mostly uphill from there. Fabulous. She’d be adding a sore back to her list of complaints by the time they reached the Windfall Claim site.

  She needed something to take her mind off the ride. Disregarding her previous conviction not to pester Will, she said, “Tell me about her.”

  “Who?”

  “The girl. Woman. Your ex. Whatever she was.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Liar. His jacket did nothing to hide the sudden tension squaring his shoulders.

  “When Mrs. Litey said you were taken, you went three shades paler.”

  “She was referring to Joseph.”

  “Probably, though I’m not convinced she’s as forgetful as she appears. But that has nothing to do with your reaction. I’m curious. Who’s the woman who broke Will Dessaro’s heart?”

  “Who’s Lois?”

  Nice try, Miranda thought. “I’ll tell if you tell.”

  “No deal.”

  Undaunted, she continued. “Lois is someone Mrs. Lite
y worked with years ago. So, ex-girlfriend? Ex-wife? Ex-lover?”

  He remained diligently silent.

  “Tell you what. I’ll guess, and you let me know if I’m right.” She took her first stab in the dark. “This all happened before you came to Sweetheart.”

  Still nothing.

  No matter, Miranda was fairly confident. She’d made enough inquiries about Will the past few months, and not a single person had mentioned a local girlfriend, even a casual one. Which made no sense. Guys as ruggedly handsome as him were usually fighting off female admirers.

  She studied him as they rode, when she wasn’t watching the ever steepening slope. “Someone from high school? College?” She paused a beat. “The army?”

  More tension.

  Will didn’t need to talk much. His body language and facial expressions revealed his every thought and emotion. Also, the tone of his voice.

  “Okay, the army. Was she a civilian or in the military?”

  “Neither.”

  “Military, then,” she decided.

  Will ducked to avoid a low tree limb stretching across the trail.

  “Definitely military.” Miranda ducked to avoid the same tree limb. “Did you serve together? How long did you date? Why did you break up?”

  “I’m not talking about this,” he snapped.

  “She must have really hurt you. Enough that you haven’t dated anyone in years and refuse to talk about her. Did your PTSD have anything to do with it?”

  As far as conversation killers went, she’d picked a zinger. Will clammed up. Miranda fumed. All right, she shouldn’t have pried. He was entitled to his privacy.

  Long seconds of silence stretched into minutes until they reached the junction. There she advised Will to take the right fork.

  “That trail dead-ends,” he argued.

  “It zigzags.” Miranda strove to lighten the mood and teased, “Want me to go first?”

  His scowl could only be described as affronted.

  The horses climbed the steep slope, lowering their heads for balance and placing their feet carefully among the craggy rocks.

  “This incline won’t be nearly so difficult in better weather,” Miranda commented. “Your guests will do fine, even the less experienced riders.”

  At the top, they stopped to rest the horses. Miranda looked around for the Ten Mile trailhead. Thanks to overgrown brush and half a lifetime since she’d last visited these parts, it wasn’t easy to find. She was about to suggest they continue the search on foot when she spotted the narrow opening.

  A small yelp of glee escaped her. “There! See?” She nudged her horse through the opening, taking the lead.

  Will didn’t admit it, but she thought he might be a little impressed. Score one for her.

  The shortcut paid off. Fifteen minutes later they reached the Windfall Claim site. A broken wooden sluice box sat not far from the icy stream, hardly more than a pile of timbers. Beside it was a rusty shovel, the head of an ax and a rotted canvas tarp that probably sheltered hordes of insects. Remnants from more modern prospectors.

  Will dismounted with ease. Miranda, not so much. Her sore joints and cold stiff hands hampered her. On the ground her legs gave out, and she grabbed the side of the saddle seconds before tumbling. All at once Will was beside her.

  “Steady there.” He supported her arm.

  Sweet Lord in heaven, she loved the sound of his voice when he wasn’t annoyed at her. She let its timbre slide over her.

  “I’m such a klutz.”

  “You’re anything but a klutz.” His hand moved slowly from her elbow up her arm, where it lingered. His eyes, so brown they appeared black, remained fastened on her for endless moments.

  If he asked, she would tell him anything. Reveal her deepest secrets.

  “We, um, should probably tie up the, uh, horses.”

  Her, shy? Seriously? Miranda was the queen of confidence.

  “After that climb, they’re too tired to go anywhere.” His strong fingers squeezed her flesh through her coat sleeve. “Trust me.”

  “I do.” She trembled slightly.

  “You cold?” His arm circled her, drew her close. “I’ve got a poncho in my saddlebag.”

  “Uh-uh.” She shook her head. What was with the short answers? That was Will’s style, not hers.

  “Well, if you change your mind...” He dipped his head.

  He was going to kiss her. She closed her eyes in anticipation, whispered his name on a half breath.

  Nothing happened. What the...?

  She opened her eyes to find him staring intently at her and stiffened. “My mistake.” How embarrassing!

  He anchored her more solidly to him and, with his hand, pressed the side of her face to his chest. The jacket’s rough fabric scratched her cheek, but she didn’t pull back.

  “Yes,” he said.

  She sensed rather than saw him staring off into the distance. “Yes, what?”

  “You’re right,” he admitted at last. “About everything. I met her in the army, and she dumped me cold when she found out about my PTSD.”

  “Oh, Will. I’m sorry.” Instead of feeling jubilation over getting him to open up, Miranda’s throat tightened. She herself had endured heartaches over relationships gone wrong more than once. “That must have been awful.”

  He tilted her face to his, and she readied herself. This time he would kiss her for sure.

  Wrong again. Instead of taking her into his arms, he moved her gently aside and patted her head as if she were a child.

  “We’d better check out the claim site while there’s still plenty of daylight left.”

  * * *

  WILL HAD A problem. He couldn’t get within two feet of Miranda without wanting to take her in his arms and kiss her. As if that was news.

  Up until recently he’d been able to resist. But it was getting harder. If not for him suddenly coming to his senses, he might have acted on his impulses.

  Another disaster narrowly avoided. Their third one today. Will was getting good at it. What he should be doing, however, was steering clear of potentially dangerous situations altogether. Ones that put him and Miranda in close proximity.

  Such as visiting Mrs. Litey. Accompanying Miranda to the ice-cream shop. Bringing her on horse rides where she could get chilled or stumble and need to be held.

  “I’m sorry for being nosy.”

  She’d come up behind him while he was wrapping Rocket Dog’s reins around the saddle horn. Miranda’s horse was already loose and picking through the shallow layer of snow with its hooves, searching for anything edible that had survived.

  “It’s all right.”

  “Sometimes I let my big mouth get the better of me.”

  “I hadn’t noticed.” He delivered the barb good-naturedly.

  “If you’d like, I can tell you about when my birth parents abandoned me. Even the score.”

  “Maybe someday.” Will wanted to hear about her childhood. Her college days. Her stint at the hospital in Reno, and how she came to open Harmony House.

  But then she’d want to get to know him better, too, and he’d already revealed too much. Time to draw the line. Will was not good boyfriend material. He’d learned that lesson already with Lexie.

  Giving Rocket Dog’s rump a pat, he let her join her buddy and started toward the wrecked sluice, Miranda keeping pace with him. “Is any of this usable?” he asked.

  “You’re better off building a new one. They aren’t hard. My dad could give you a set of plans.”

  With the babble of running water in the background, they sorted through the array of discarded prospecting equipment. Will would have to pack it down the mountain on horseback. Getting a vehicle up here would be impossible. Even an ATV. Then he’d have
to haul the new equipment in. Quite a project.

  “The Chinese developed a different kind of sluice called a rocker.” Miranda removed a broken timber from the pile and turned it over, exposing the sharp rusted nail points on the underside. “Some operations were fairly sophisticated. Most prospectors started out with a simple pan and went from there. If they were smart, they invested a portion of their finds in better equipment.”

  “You ever pan for gold up here?”

  “With my dad. I was pretty good at it, too. Better than my brothers and sisters.”

  “You had the knack.”

  “I had the patience. It’s tedious work.”

  “I thought you said the federal government didn’t acquire the land until recently.”

  “That’s true.” She smiled coyly.

  “You prospected illegally?”

  “If you ask my dad, he’ll tell you we were conducting studies.”

  Will thought he might like Miranda’s dad.

  “We never found more than some particles. Enough to whet our appetites.” She knelt by the creek, removed her glove and dipped her fingers in the icy water. “What about you? Ever try?”

  “A few times when I first arrived in Sweetheart. I gave up quickly.”

  “It’s pretty labor-intensive.”

  “Clearing this place is going to be labor-intensive, too. There a lot of junk to haul off.”

  Miranda stood and dried her hand on her jeans. “I think you should leave everything as it is. Gives the place authenticity. In fact, you should bring even more old equipment up here. The guests will love it. Lots of photo ops.”

  She had a point.

  “You could make arrangements with the general store. They carry all kinds of prospecting equipment. Your guests could rent the equipment from the store. The ranch would get a cut, of course.”

  Smart and pretty. Will was in bigger trouble than he thought.

  “You sure you don’t need a third job?”

  “I might if I can’t refinance my mortgage.”

  “How’s that going?”

  “Ask me next week.”