Wild Western Women Boxed Set

by Kirsten Osbourne

  “Rev. Andrews, shouldn’t the shepherds be the ones looking at the baby Jesus?” one of the little angels asked.

  The entire group shuffled from one end of the stage—the church, rather—to the other, the mothers with costumes in tow.

  “You’re exactly right, Annie. The shepherds will be looking at the baby Jesus, but I bet that the angels couldn’t help but steal a peek as well,” Rev. Andrews answered.

  The chorus of angels giggled at his answer, smiles shining.

  Eve’s heart caught in her throat. They were all so dear, so marvelous. A few were unruly, twirling or giggling as they took their places above the empty manger. A pair of boys dodged through the others, their hands in the shape of guns that they fired with all the accompanying sounds. One little girl, who couldn’t have been more than three, stared up at the high stained glass windows, her thumb in her mouth.

  A bittersweet twinge seized Eve’s chest. Her throat closed up and a hint of tears stung her eyes. She lowered a hand to press to her abdomen. The scar wasn’t noticeable through the layers of her corset and skirt and the wide belt she wore, but she could feel it all the same. It cut her with a finality that went beyond the surgeon’s knife.

  “Hello?”

  Eve blinked to find the sandy-haired man staring at her from across the church. She dropped her hand and smiled to hide the grief she knew was painted on her face. It was foolish of her to break character in public, no matter what caused it.

  “Hello,” she answered.

  The sandy-haired reverend smiled.

  “What are you doing?” a woman’s voice snapped behind her.

  Eve turned to see a handsome older woman in a serviceable blouse and skirt about ten years out of fashion yanking the church door open behind her. She had gray hair pulled back in a bun and lines on her face that revealed that she smiled a lot. At the moment, however, she was scowling at Eve as though she were a rabble-rouser.

  “I’m terribly sorry.” Eve kept her eyes bright and her chin up. “It’s so cold outside that I assumed you would want to keep the door closed.”

  The old woman continued to scowl. “Well you assumed wrong.” She pulled herself to her full height and narrowed her eyes. “I don’t know you,” she went on. “I know everyone in town, even the new people.”

  “I’m not from town.” Eve continued to feign ease, though it was a difficult role to play.

  “I know.” The woman nodded and crossed her arms. “You’ve got an English accent.”

  “It’s because I’m English,” Eve said. She tried leaning closer to the woman and sharing a conspiratorial wink the way she had with Lewis Jones and countless admirers before.

  The woman crinkled her nose and leaned back. “You’re not one of the new girls Paul Sutcliffe hired to work at the saloon, are you?”

  “No, no, not at all.” Eve tried a breezy laugh.

  The woman’s scowl deepened. “Well you look like a whore with all that paint on your face.”

  The sting of the accusation dug as deep as the emotion she had felt at the sight of the children. Eve’s act dropped.

  “I most certainly am not a whore,” she said, hands on her hips. Indignant as she was, her denial still felt like a lie. “I am Lady Eve deLaurent. The Indomitable Lady Eve,” she went on, convincing herself as much as the outspoken woman.

  “Well, I am Sadie McGee,” the woman fired back at her. “And I can assure you that I’m as indomitable as any woman that ever set foot in Cold Springs.”

  Eve started, not sure what to make of her declaration.

  “Ladies, what seems to be the trouble here?”

  She was spared having to come up with an answer to Sadie McGee by the interruption of the reverend. She switched back into the role of charming lady and turned to introduce herself.

  Her act evaporated. Up close, the reverend was a sight to behold. He had soft blue eyes to go with his sandy hair, strong jaw, and graceful nose. Tiny lines radiated from his eyes, giving him an air of kindness and humor. He could have played Hamlet or Algernon Moncrieff both and made the audience fall in love with him at a word.

  “Just keeping the door open like you wanted, Rev. Andrews,” Sadie said as Eve scrambled to collect herself.

  “But why?” Eve stammered. “It’s so cold outside.”

  “It is,” Rev. Andrews replied, “but with the door closed people passing by can’t hear the children singing and be drawn in like you were.”

  He ended with a smile that was as good as a wink. Butterflies danced in Eve’s gut.

  “No, no they can’t.” Without choosing a character to play first, she held out her hand. “Eve deLaurent,” she introduced herself in the simplest possible terms.

  His face lit up. “Amelia Quinlan’s sister!”

  Her thumping heart flopped over in her chest.

  “I believe that’s the first time in two years I’ve been recognized as who I truly am,” she said, more breathless than she should have been.

  He took her hand and shook it, firm but not overpowering, warm but not moist.

  “I’m Rev. Mark Andrews,” he said. “Your sister has told me all about you. She’s excited to have you here for Christmas.”

  “Not as excited as I am to be here, I’m sure.”

  He nodded. She watched the sparkle in his blue, blue eyes. It would probably be best to let go of his hand, but, in that moment, she had no desire to move at all.

  Mark didn’t know what to say. Half a decade as a pastor, leading and counseling saints and sinners alike, and he didn’t know what to say in the face of one beautiful woman.

  She was astoundingly beautiful, there was no denying it. She looked like her sister. They had the same shape to their face and mouth, the same blue eyes. But where Amelia’s hair was light, her sister’s was dark, where Amelia had filled out after having a child, her sister was trim and graceful.

  It wasn’t her appearance that left him without words though. It was the sadness he had seen radiating from her across the sanctuary. How could a woman with such a brilliant smile be so sad?

  “Your sister speaks fondly of you,” he repeated clumsily. He realized he was still holding her hand and let go. Heat rose up his neck to his face. “She says you are an actress? That you are touring America with your company?”

  “Yes,” Eve said, wide-eyed. She sucked in a breath and shook herself, following the gesture with a laugh like wind-chimes on a spring day. “That is, no. I am an actress, but I am on leave from my troupe. We’ve been traveling all through the west in the last year, a different city every other week. I decided enough was enough and that I shall end my year and begin the next one in the bosom of my family. After that, we’ll see.”

  Sadie McGee snorted at the comment.

  Mark raised his eyebrows and turned to her. Sadie stood with her hands on her hips, nursing a dismissive frown. He’d known Sadie McGee since he was a small boy stealing muffins from her kitchen table, but he had never seen the look that she wore now. It rubbed him the wrong way, although he couldn’t put his finger on why.

  “If you are ‘on leave from your troupe,’ as you put it,” he said to Eve, focusing on more pleasant things, “you should help us with our Christmas pageant.”

  “Oh?” Eve brightened.

  Sadie’s frown darkened.

  “How kind you are, Rev. Andrews, but I couldn’t possibly,” Eve went on.

  “I should say not,” Sadie grumbled. Mark’s surprise must have been clear on his face as she went on with, “You don’t need her kind of help, Reverend.”

  He opened his mouth to protest that it was not Sadie’s business whose help or company he sought, but thought better of it. Instead, he checked on Eve to be sure she wasn’t offended by Sadie’s frostiness.

  Eve hadn’t heard Sadie’s comment at all. Her attention was on the front of the sanctuary where the children were now playing as Millie Frye and Rebecca Turner tried in vain to corral them for costume fittings. The unspeakable sadness had retur
ned to her eyes. Mark’s chest tightened.

  “Sadie, it looks like Rebecca and Millie have their hands full,” he said. “Would you mind helping them with the children?”

  “I could—” Eve stopped herself midway through swaying toward the children. She raised a gloved hand to her lips as though she’d spoken out of turn. “Certainly, Reverend.” Sadie frowned from him to Eve before heading on to the front of the sanctuary.

  Mark shook his head as he watched her go. “I apologize for Mrs. McGee,” he said, then frowned. “She’s a bit stand-offish with people she doesn’t know.”

  “She seems quite outspoken, and perhaps a little protective of you?” Eve replied with a smile.

  He winced. “You heard what she said?”

  “A bit.” She glanced down, dark lashes sweeping across her cheek. “I’ve learned not to hear unkind comments directed at me.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  A ripple of childish laughter rang from the front of the church. Eve started as though someone had fired a gun. She gasped and raised a hand to her chest, then shot him a sheepish smile to apologize for her nerves. The sight sent electricity through him. She glanced to the children again. He shifted his weight and studied her. Sadness covered with a beautiful smile.

  “Are you staying with Eric and Amelia while you’re here?” he asked.

  “Yes, I am,” she answered.

  His shoulders dropped. The Quinlan ranch was miles outside of town.

  The speed with which that fact disappointed him made him grin. Fancy him having his head turned by a woman he’d just met—an actress, even.

  “You are welcome to visit the church any time you need solace, Miss deLaurent.” He shifted back into the role of pastor. “Our doors are open for quiet contemplation at all times.” Another peel of screeching laughter from the children punctuated his comment. “Well, mostly silent contemplation.”

  Eve’s face went pink. She giggled through the pain in her eyes. “They are dear.” She sighed.

  “Eve?” Bright morning light flooded into the church as the door opened fully. Amelia Quinlan herself peered into the sanctuary. Her face lit up the moment she saw her sister. “Eve!”

  Eve turned away from the children. Joy burst over her. “Amelia!” She threw her arms open and ran to her sister. “I’ve missed you so—”

  Eve froze just short of Amelia. The smile was still bright on her face, but a strange tension flickered across it. She clasped her hands together and stared at the huge bulge of Amelia’s stomach.

  “You… you didn’t tell me.” Her voice cracked with emotion and she stared at her sister’s baby-to-be. Her already delicate complexion paled.

  “Isn’t it wonderful?” Amelia said. Oblivious to Eve’s reaction, she embraced her sister as best she could. Eve endured the hug, stiff as a board.

  Mark’s smile dropped. On instinct, he leaned toward Eve, ready to catch her when Amelia let her go. She looked as though someone had died, not as though someone was about to be born.

  Eric Quinlan walked into the church, his and Amelia’s daughter, Darcy, in his arms.

  “Eve,” he said, his smile as wide as Amelia’s. “It’s good to see you again.”

  “Eric.” Eve moved to hug her brother-in-law and niece as a unit. “My! Look how beautiful this little one is.” The comment was wooden. Eve took a large step back. “She looks so much like you, Amelia.”

  Mark’s pulse raced as though someone were handing him clues to a mystery.

  “She may look like me, but she is most certainly her daddy’s little girl,” Amelia said.

  Amelia and Eric exchanged a look brimming with affection. Eric rested a hand on Amelia’s waist and bent to kiss her cheek. Amelia laughed softly at the gesture and rested her hand on her stomach.

  Eve took another step back, nearly treading on Mark. He touched the small of her back to steady her.

  “You didn’t tell me you were expecting another child,” Eve repeated. Her smile was so perfect that Mark wondered if Amelia and Eric could see she was acting. His concern deepened.

  “When you wrote to say you were coming for Christmas we decided to wait to tell you in person,” Amelia explained. “We wanted to surprise you.”

  “You did!” Eve said. “I… I never would have expected. You have a whole family now.”

  “Now we do,” Eric said. He shifted Darcy, as if to hand her off. “This new one is coming any day now. You’ll probably be here to welcome him or her. Want to hold your niece while I fetch the wagon to take us home?”

  “No.” Eve leaned further back. She covered the move with a laugh. “No, no, I couldn’t. I know nothing about children.”

  Mark arched an eyebrow.

  Eric laughed, missing the nuance of the comment. “Well, someone’s got to hold her while I get the wagon. Your luggage won’t walk itself out to the ranch.”

  “Actually,” Eve began, holding up her hands so that Eric couldn’t hand little Darcy off to her, “I was thinking that I would stay here in town, in that lovely hotel next door.”

  Mark held his breath. Eve glanced to him, nervous and almost apologetic.

  “But…” Amelia faltered. “But I thought that you would stay at our ranch. We’ve given the house a thorough cleaning and even decorated the barn.”

  “I shall certainly have to come out and see it then.” Her words were enthusiastic, but they were lines in a play.

  “You can’t stay in the hotel.” Eric held Darcy close in his arms again, bouncing her as she fussed. “We’re family, and family should be together at Christmas.”

  Eve brushed the comment away. “Oh, I haven’t been together with family for the last several Christmases. It doesn’t matter to me.”

  The twist of hurt that flickered across Amelia’s face was so close to sadness that Mark swallowed.

  “Don’t be silly, Eve. You’ve no reason to stay in an impersonal hotel when we are opening our doors to you,” Amelia insisted. “And the baby….” She rested a hand on her stomach.

  “I couldn’t impose on your family,” Eve replied with a hard edge. She breezed on before her sister could reply, “Besides, I am needed here.”

  “You are?” Amelia blinked.

  “Yes.” Eve rested her hands on Mark’s arm. “Your charming Rev. Andrews has asked me to help out with the town’s Christmas pageant. I couldn’t possibly say no to such an offer.”

  She looked to him with a combination of enthusiasm and desperation that sent his heart ricocheting through his chest. And not entirely because of the awkward position she’d just put him in. Every sinew in his body wanted to help her.

  “I did ask,” he said. “It would be a chance of a lifetime to enlist Miss deLaurent’s theatrical experience for our humble pageant. But if you object….”

  “I’m sure they wouldn’t object at all,” Eve concluded with what appeared to be a contented sigh. “I know how important this town and this church have become to my sister.”

  Amelia let out an impatient breath. “They have, but—”

  “It’s settled then.” Eve squeezed his arm as if holding on for dear life. “I shall stay at the hotel and assist Rev. Andrews with his Christmas pageant. We shall visit when we are able.”

  Amelia pressed her lips shut over whatever comment she wanted to make. She held a hand to her round stomach. Mark swore that Eve tensed at the gesture.

  “Well, if that’s what you want,” Eric said. He rubbed the back of his neck and frowned between Eve and Amelia.

  “It is,” Eve said.

  “How ’bout we help you get settled at the hotel then,” Eric went on, sending his wife an anxious glance.

  Amelia pursed her lips and watched her sister as if she didn’t know what to make of the turn of events.

  “That would be wonderful.” Eve rushed to fill the awkward silence. She sighed, brimming with happiness as false as the decorations around the church. “This will be the most special Christmas ever.”

  She clutched
Mark’s arm as though he could save her from looming disaster.

  Chapter Two

  Eve stared at her reflection in the mirror above her hotel bureau as she fixed her hair for the day. She was skilled enough to achieve the look of the latest fashion, even though, in her opinion, it took too much work to appear effortless. She would put in the work though. She was The Indomitable Lady Eve, after all. Even if all she really wanted was to wear her hair loose down her back as she had when she was a child. Amelia used to brush out her tangles and tell her she was a beautiful princess trapped under an evil spell.

  She was still that princess. She was still under that spell.

  “You are a fool is what you are,” she told her reflection as she patted the last pin into place. She smiled to complete the picture, but the expression felt as false as the image bouncing back at her.

  “You should be at Amelia’s ranch right now, not at this hotel,” she told herself. “Coward.”

  She whipped away from the mirror, swallowing hard. The burr that had settled in her stomach the moment she’d seen her sister—pregnant and glowing and surrounded by her new family—was lodged tight. She pressed a hand to her own stomach to still it, but the hollowness remained. It would never go away.

  She sighed and smoothed the festive maroon dress she wore. It was far more appropriate for the heart of New York City than tiny Cold Springs, Montana, but she needed to be in full costume if she was going to play this part.

  “It’s only three weeks,” she told herself as she gathered her purse from the table beside her bed. “Smile and pretend you’re happy for three weeks and then move on.”

  Her mother’s words echoed back to her. Smile and bear it, my dear. It’s just a simple operation. You’ll be back on your feet in no time, and then you can move on.

  Oh, she’d smiled then, all right. Even when she saw that the “doctor” her mother had taken her to was no more than a quack. Even when they’d had to rush her to a genuine hospital afterward. She’d moved on as well, but not in the way her mother had intended.

  She gave her cheeks a final pinch and her thoughts a swift kick to the back of her mind before taking a deep breath and waltzing out of her hotel room. There was no use dwelling on what was already done and gone.