Cowgirl Under the Mistletoe

by Louise M. Gouge

  “Micah!” Joel burst in through the back door of the church on a gust of wind. “There’s a fire north of town. The sheriff is asking every available man to help.”

  “Of course.” Micah lifted a silent prayer for calm in the midst of his alarm. Had the outlaws struck again? And who had been their target?

  * * *

  Grace took her place in the line of men passing buckets of water from the Rio Grande to douse the burning house. The smell of burning wood and inflammable household items permeated the air. Violent crackling sounds came from within the blazing wooden walls, probably from glasses and pottery shattering in the heat. Mrs. MacAndrews owned beautiful sets of china and crystal glasses. She would be heartbroken at their loss. Covered with soot and worn almost to the bone, Grace prayed they would be able to save at least some of the MacAndrewses’ valuables.

  If Rafael Trujillo hadn’t been riding in from his ranch north of town and seen the fire in its early stages, even the animals would have been burned alive. While his son went for help, Rafael had rescued the milk cow and the sow from the shed that adjoined the house, and released the chickens from their coop. The poultry scattered in all directions and would probably freeze to death overnight if volunteers couldn’t catch them all.

  With numerous people in town for their Saturday shopping in spite of the cold weather, the men had quickly banded together and ridden out to help. Some of the womenfolk had packed wagons with relief supplies for those fighting the fire and drove out to help as they could.

  Grace saw the Rev and his friend, Mr. Sutton, down close to the river scooping buckets of water to pass up the hill to the burning house. Although ice had formed near the banks, they could still break through and reach the water. When he’d arrived, the Rev had said, “Thank the Lord the river isn’t completely frozen yet.”

  “And thank the Lord the wind isn’t bad tonight,” Grace said. The wind had died down in late afternoon, but if it picked up again, it could still start a fire in the nearby cottonwood trees.

  For several hours, the small army of volunteers worked tirelessly to fight the fire, finally bringing it down to a smolder. All that remained were the stone foundation, the stone fireplace and a considerable pile of rubble.

  Grace’s heart ached for the couple who had made this their home in their old age. They’d bought it after Mr. MacAndrews and his daughter, Susanna, had come to the Valley back in ’78. While Susanna and Nate Northam were busy trying not to fall in love, which they’d obviously failed at, Mr. Mac had fallen in love with the Northams’ housekeeper, Angela. A lot of secret romances had gone on back then.

  Just before the sun ducked behind the San Juan Mountains, the women fed everybody, and then most folks packed up and went home. Sheriff Lawson set up camp to stay the night, and two other men volunteered to join him.

  “You go on back to town, Grace,” he said. “We need somebody in the office in case something else happens.” He took off his hat and swiped a sleeve over his forehead. “You mind sleeping there tonight?”

  “No, sir.” She turned to walk away...and bumped right into the Rev. A pleasant but intense shiver swept through her and, tired as she was, her knees threatened to buckle.

  Fortunately, he grabbed her bent elbows to keep her from falling. “You all right?”

  “Yes.” Her squeaking voice broke, and she coughed to cover her embarrassment, then inhaled too much icy air, which made her cough in earnest.

  “You must have breathed in some smoke.” Worry coloring his tone, the Rev pounded her on the back. “You were too close to the fire.”

  “Uh-huh,” was all she could manage. At last she was able to pull in enough air through her nose to clear her lungs. Of course, that froze the inside of her nose and gave her a headache. “I’m all right.” Sure she was.

  After giving her a look of kindly concern, which did nothing to bring her breathing back to normal, the Rev addressed the sheriff. “Thank the Lord that Edward and Angela went down to Antonito after they received Hardison’s threats.”

  “Yep.” The sheriff nodded toward a wiry old cowboy who was raking through the smoldering rubble to stop the fire from reigniting. “Poor old Zack feels real bad about this. He was supposed to keep an eye on things, but he had to go to town for chicken feed. The outlaws must have been watching the place, because that has to be when they rode in and set the fire.”

  “You’re sure somebody set it?” the Rev asked.

  “No doubt about it.” The sheriff swiped a sooty handkerchief over his face. “Zack said he made sure the stove and fireplace were cold before he left.”

  Not that Grace had expected anything else, and yet she couldn’t comprehend such evil deeds. The only cause Hardison would have for harming the old couple was that his late cousin had robbed and nearly killed the old man some six years ago. In his note to Edward MacAndrews, he’d said he would “finish the job” his cousin started. Pure meanness. Pure evil. Grace was both sickened and angry. She’d catch that murdering Hardison if it was the last thing she did.

  * * *

  Despite the late hour, Micah and Joel came home to the welcoming aroma of a perfectly formed layer cake with buttercream icing—and a large tub of hot water.

  “Well, I had to do something to help the cause.” Miss Sutton shrugged, as if her evening of baking and boiling water was a mere trifle. “Besides, you both want to be presentable for church tomorrow morning.”

  “Miss Sutton, you are a wonder.”

  Micah couldn’t imagine this elegant young lady pumping enough water to fill a coffeepot, much less the tub now discreetly tucked behind the privacy screen in his kitchen. She had even pressed both his and Joel’s Sunday attire. This young lady would make a fine wife for some deserving man. Micah could only hope his own wife would so thoughtfully anticipate his needs.

  “By the way, Reverend Thomas.” In the dim light of the kitchen’s kerosene lamp, she gave him a demure smile. “Y’all being busy with more important matters, I don’t suppose Joel mentioned that we ran into Mr. Nolan Means and his charming sister, Anna, at the mercantile this afternoon. That is, before we heard about the fire.”

  Micah was too tired for guessing games, but he did his best to return a pleasant smile. “No, ma’am, he didn’t.”

  “Well, of course not, with all you had to do.” She glanced at Joel. “I do hope you’ll forgive me, but I invited them to Sunday dinner.” Another demure smile. “Here at your house. I mean, you did say to make ourselves at home, and I can’t bear to think of going another week without entertaining in some fashion or another. I do so love to entertain.”

  “Elly!” Joel slumped into a kitchen chair. “I forgot all about that. We should have asked—”

  “Not at all.” Micah had grown tired of always being the guest at other people’s homes on Sunday. It would be grand to have company, another reason he needed a wife. Just not this lady. “I would be delighted.” He chuckled. “Miss Sutton, you are a lady of many talents. By any chance, do you like to work with children? That is...” He mustn’t give her a chance to misunderstand. “I need someone to direct the children’s Christmas play, and we have only three weeks to put it all together.”

  To his surprise and delight, she clapped her hands very much like a child happily anticipating a treat. “Oh, I would dearly love to, Reverend Thomas.” She swiped at her ivory cheek and sniffed. “I do so want to be useful, and I do so adore children.”

  One more way she’d surprised him. Maybe the heroine in his third novel should be a genteel lady from the South who learned to adjust to the Wild West.

  “Will I get to meet the children tomorrow?” From the light in her eyes, Micah knew she was sincere. He lifted a silent thank You to the Lord for answered prayer.

  “I will make certain that you do.”

  It wasn’t until later that night after they had
all retired that Micah remembered Nolan Means was one of Hardison’s main targets for revenge. Would that important fact put Micah’s guests in danger?

  * * *

  Sheriff Lawson had encouraged everyone to go about their business as usual, only to remain on the lookout, so Micah held regular services. To their credit, the congregation filled the sanctuary, every man, woman and child, including a few unfamiliar faces, turning determined, trusting eyes toward him as he stood behind the lectern to deliver his sermon. In light of the attack on the MacAndrewses’ home, the message he had worked on all week held all the more meaning.

  He began with the scripture the Lord had given him. “Psalm 27, verses 1–3, says,

  ‘The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? The Lord is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?

  When the wicked, even mine enemies and my foes, came upon me to eat up my flesh, they stumbled and fell.

  Though an host should encamp against me, my heart shall not fear: though war should rise up against me, in this will I be confident.’

  “And Psalm 118:6 further reassures us that ‘The Lord is on my side; I will not fear: what can man do unto me?’

  “We can respond to danger in our lives with either fear or faith. Every adult in this room came West in spite of the dangers of crossing a wild, untamed continent. Until the railroad came here a few years ago, you arrived in the San Luis Valley by covered wagon over La Veta Pass or some other dangerous route where grizzly bears, mountain lions, unforgiving winters and nearly impassable terrain posed a constant threat.

  “Just as your wagon masters on those journeys didn’t promise you safety, I can’t promise you that the Lord will leave everyone in this congregation unscathed.”

  Micah looked around the room, and his gaze fell on Grace. She wore that expression he was so fond of when they discussed scripture, an earnest look, as though she was trying to believe what he said and yet couldn’t quite accept it. Was she thinking of her favorite verse to argue with? He prayed she would hear his next words and take them to heart.

  “All my life, observing some of the bad things that happen to good people, I was often confused by Romans 8:28. How can all things work together for our good? Then I came to realize the passage isn’t a promise that nothing bad will happen, but rather a promise that God can use the worst of circumstances for His purposes.

  “No matter what evil comes our way—and evil will come in one form or another—we know our loving heavenly Father watches over us. It is to Him that we must look, Him we must trust. Not circumstances, not other people, not threats both real and imagined.”

  * * *

  After the final hymn, the congregation didn’t seem in a hurry to leave. Instead, they stayed in the sanctuary and visited with their neighbors. Many hugs among the women, many handshakes among the men, children quieter than usual. Quite a few came up to Micah to commend him for saying just the right words everyone needed to hear. He asked the parents of the pageant participants to meet Miss Sutton, and she greeted them and their children cheerfully, which settled an important issue in Micah’s mind.

  When folks began to file out of the room, Nolan Means brought his guests over to meet Micah.

  “This is Justice Gareau, former Texas Ranger and my bodyguard.” Nolan tilted his head toward his second guest, a blond young man perhaps twenty-five years old. “Sean O’Shea, lately of the Boston Police Department, is watching over Anna for me.” Tall, muscular and broad-shouldered, both men appeared fully able to do the job for which Nolan had hired them.

  “Happy to meet you, gentlemen.” Micah shook hands with each. In the back of his mind, he wondered whether Miss Sutton had planned enough food to feed these extra guests. Before he could hail her across the sanctuary, Grace stepped up beside him.

  “You doing all right, Rev?” She eyed the two bodyguards and, after Micah introduced her, along with her title, broadened her smile. “Welcome to Esperanza. It’ll be good to have some experienced lawmen to help us out here.”

  “A lady deputy, eh?” Gareau grunted. “Pinkerton’s used women to solve crimes for many years now, so I suppose it’s no wonder.”

  Micah noticed a gleam of approval, perhaps even attraction, in both men’s eyes. Oddly, a surge of protectiveness rose up inside of him. “Grace, I’m having Nolan and Anna over for dinner. Will you join us?” Where had those words come from?

  Her pretty blue eyes flared briefly in surprise. “Well...”

  “By all means, you must come.” Miss Sutton joined the group and looped an arm around Grace’s. Even though Grace tugged against her grasp, Miss Sutton held firm. “We actually need another lady to balance our party, so do say yes.”

  The expression on Grace’s face could only be called comical, although Micah was probably the only one to notice the combination of shock, horror, puzzlement and—resignation?—that swept across her pretty face. Pretty? Yes, she truly was, especially in her present confusion.

  She gave a little shrug and at last pulled away from Miss Sutton. “I need to tell Georgia I won’t be going out to the ranch.”

  Grace’s youngest sister stood across the room chatting with Adam Starling. As Grace marched toward them, Adam ducked away.

  Micah sighed. If Adam knew Grace suspected him of colluding with the outlaws, would he avoid her that way? When the appropriate time came, Micah would make sure he told him, but only if he could do so without crushing the boy’s fragile spirits. He had enough weighing on his young shoulders and didn’t need the extra burden of Grace’s distrust.

  * * *

  Nothing could have surprised Grace more than being invited to this fancy “do.” Not that her own ma hadn’t entertained a great deal over the years. But lately the white linen tablecloths hadn’t come out quite so often with three of her daughters now living away from home and Grace staying in town. Just a few days ago, Georgia informed her that she, Ma and Pa always ate in the kitchen these days.

  Today in the parsonage, Miss Sutton had set out her very own damask table linens and china brought from Virginia. She’d also put together a fine feast, with a large beef roast, mashed potatoes, gravy, winter squash, fresh-baked bread, not to mention apple pie covered in fresh cream for dessert. She’d had to get up mighty early in the morning to prepare this meal.

  Now that Grace saw what a fine hostess Miss Sutton was, she surrendered all hope that the Rev wouldn’t marry the Southern belle. For her own part, she’d rather be talking with the two lawmen to see if she could learn some new ideas about catching criminals. Instead, Justice and Sean stood outside guarding the front and back doors, while Grace was stuck in the kitchen helping Miss Sutton, along with fourteen-year-old Anna.

  If it had been Grace and her sisters, they would have been laughing loudly and teasing as they worked. Miss Sutton set a different tone in “her” kitchen, with all sorts of gracious ways to instruct her two helpers to do this or that. Part of that graciousness was sending Anna out with sandwiches and coffee to Justice and Sean. Grace appreciated the thoughtfulness. She wouldn’t have much appetite thinking of the two men standing outside both cold and hungry.

  When they finally sat down in the dining room, Miss Sutton partnered each female with one of the men. Of course as hostess, she sat at one end of the table, and as host, the Rev sat at the other. Grace had to admit they made nice bookends for the table. Miss Sutton instructed Grace to sit beside Nolan and adjacent to the Rev, and Joel and Anna to sit opposite of them. Grace’s sister Beryl had attended finishing school and had taught her sisters all about this sort of proper seating, male, then female, and so on. At the Eberly house, though, folks just grabbed a seat wherever they wanted and sat by whomever they chose.

  After the Rev said grace and the serving dishes had been passed around, they all fell to eating and talking. Miss Sutton directed the conversation toward pleasant su
bjects. How soon could one begin to garden here in the San Luis Valley? Would roses grow here? Or tomatoes? Did anyone ever organize a musical gala? Had they invited well-known opera singers to stop here on their tours across the country? And then she asked the question that almost had Grace setting down her fork and walking out.

  “Will all of the children I met this morning be participating in the Christmas play?” Miss Sutton addressed the Rev down the length of the short table. “I want to be sure to write a part for every one of them.”

  Grace didn’t bother to pay attention to his response. So it was settled. After every unattached female had been chasing him for the past seven years, the Rev had finally found his perfect wife. Grace swallowed a bite of surprisingly tasty roast beef, but it lodged in her throat. Which had chosen that moment to close as if to shut down her emotions.

  “Why, Miss Sutton.” Nolan’s appetite was in its usual fine form. With manners appropriate for a banker, he still managed to clean his plate. “How generous of you to take on such a project. Are you certain you can manage such a large group of children?”

  She laughed in her musical way. Grace wished her own laugh was as pretty. In her family, she and her four sisters had always been having too much fun to worry about how their laughter sounded. Most of the time, it came out fairly boisterous, although Beryl and Laurie had toned it down after being away at school.

  “Why, Mr. Means, a mere seventeen children are nothing compared to the thirty I taught in my Sunday school class back home in Virginia.”

  Even in profile, Grace could see the admiring expression on Nolan’s face. As for the Rev, he still wore his pastoral face. Was he just good at hiding his feelings? Or...

  “You will do an excellent job,” Nolan said. “I am sure of it.” He took a sip of coffee. “Anna could help you, if you like.” He looked across the table and gave his sister an encouraging nod.