Cowgirl Under the Mistletoe

by Louise M. Gouge

  “Thank you, Grace.” He chuckled. “I didn’t even realize I’d left it there.” With all of the dramatic events that happened this day, no wonder he’d forgotten the gun. He must write down those events before he forgot them so he could use them in his next novel. “Will you stay for supper?”

  “No, thanks. I need to get over to Mrs. Foster’s and be sure she’s all right. I know she’ll have supper waiting.” She glanced around the parlor, her eyes focusing at last on the coffee table. “Huh. I see you have a copy of that book Mrs. Winsted’s been selling. What did you think of it?”

  Micah’s heart did a strange little hop. “It’s...interesting. Have you read it?” Did you like it? Would you read more? Suddenly her opinion mattered to him more than anything in the world.

  “Couldn’t get past the first chapter. I took it back to Mrs. Winsted.” Grace shrugged. “Georgia would probably like it.”

  “What—” Micah’s voice squeaked a little, and he cleared his throat. “What didn’t you like?”

  “Well...” she drawled, gazing off thoughtfully. “It’s pretty much like most of the dime novels Mrs. Winsted sells. Whoever wrote it didn’t know much about what cowboys or sheriffs really do out here.” She snorted softly. “Probably some Easterner wrote it. They all think we’re dumb as rocks anyway.” She turned to go. “See you at prayer meeting Wednesday.”

  “Wait.” Miss Sutton flounced into the room, a happy smile on her pretty face. “Grace, I’m so glad to see you, but I must disagree with you about the book. Rio Grande Sheriff may seem slow at the beginning, but I believe the adventures of the hero are every bit as realistic as what you and Micah have endured these past few days.” She snatched up the book. “Why, I would even say this is more in the style of Mark Twain or Charles Dickens. It’s certainly easier to read than Nathaniel Hawthorne.”

  Micah shot a glance at Miss Sutton. She thought the book was slow at the beginning? Hmm. Maybe he needed to start the next book with a bit more excitement.

  “You must give it another try.” Miss Sutton held the book out to Grace.

  “No, thanks.” Grace winced and stepped back like she’d just been offered a rattlesnake. Micah’s heart plummeted. Even with Miss Sutton’s recommendation, she wouldn’t read it. “Mrs. Foster has a copy I can read if I get especially bored.” She moved toward the door. “Y’all have a nice evening.” She pulled her hat up on its strings and placed it over her glorious auburn hair, which looked particularly fetching tonight because it was slightly rumpled. “G’night, Rev. Miss Sutton. Joel.” She waved to Joel, who stood behind his sister.

  “Now, Grace, you must call me Electra.” She chirped her words as happily as a spring robin. “I believe we’ve been friends long enough, don’t you?”

  “Yeah. Sure. G’night.” Her shoulders slumped as she walked out.

  Micah’s heart went with her, but he didn’t know whether it was because he wanted to help with whatever had depressed her or because he wanted to explain the book. Either way, he couldn’t bring himself to go after her when she so clearly wanted to be alone. He could only pray that the Lord would sort things out for her over time. And yet, her rejection of his book, into which he’d poured only the best of intentions and a considerable amount of his heart, wounded him more than he’d thought possible.

  * * *

  Grace couldn’t understand why the icy evening wind stung her face so badly until she realized she was crying. She swiped at the foolish tears and increased her stride along the dark street toward Mrs. Foster’s house.

  Micah. Miss Sutton had used his Christian name as though she’d always known him. Or should Grace say Electra? She still thought it was a silly name, but if she could bring herself to be friendly with the woman, she might try Elly, as her brother addressed her. Or she might call her Mrs. Thomas after she and the Rev got hitched.

  Grace sniffed back the extra tears that thought caused. Bother! What was wrong with her? She’d always known the Rev wasn’t for her. Their experiences at the cabin only made it more certain. She didn’t have the tender heart a minister’s wife needed. She was too rough in all of her ways. Now if she could just convince her foolish, illogical heart of those realities, she’d feel much better. Sure she would.

  Early the next morning, she paid a call on Sheriff Lawson, who was still giving his wife fits over having to stay in bed.

  “Sure wish I could have been out there with you.” The lawman fidgeted where he lay. “I hear you and the reverend managed pretty well, though.” He offered a smile, a rarity for him, and settled his steely-eyed gaze on her. “Good job, Deputy.”

  “Yessir, well, about that.” Under that gaze, Grace did her own share of fidgeting. What she was about to do took more courage than facing Hardison. Before she could change her mind, she unhooked her tin badge from her leather vest and set it on the bedside table. “I’m done, sir. Justice Gareau needs a job, and I think he’s the man to be your new deputy. Sean O’Shea’s another good man. The two of them should be all the backup you need to take care of this town.”

  Lawson stared at her for a full fifteen seconds, his jaw slack and his eyes wide. “Why, Grace,” he finally managed, “you’re an excellent deputy. Even Andy Ransom and Rafael Trujillo have said they admire the way you brought down Hardison. They didn’t do anywhere near as well as you. Couldn’t even catch those two other gang members who are still out there somewhere. You have the respect of the entire town. Why do you want to quit?”

  “Maybe—” Mrs. Lawson stood in the doorway, a knowing smile on her lips “—just maybe she’d like to get married.”

  Grace felt like she’d been smacked. But she could see the lady meant no harm. She shuffled her feet. “No, ma’am. Not me. I just need to help my folks out at the ranch full-time now.” She swallowed hard. Who on earth did Mrs. Lawson think she was going to marry? Who on earth would want to marry the likes of her? The best thing for Grace would be to move back to the ranch and come to town as seldom as possible.

  The sheriff reached over to the bedside table and clumsily took the badge in hand. “Do this for me, Grace.” He held the shield out with a shaky hand. “Stick around until I’m back on my feet.” He gave her another one of his rare grins.

  She thought he might be pretending how shaky he was, but wouldn’t insult him by suggesting it. Reluctantly, she lifted her hand, accepted the badge and heaved out a long sigh. “If you insist.” She looked at Mrs. Lawson, whose gaze seemed almost maternal, something Grace didn’t quite understand. What was the woman thinking? “Ma’am, would you please make sure this old codger gets well soon?”

  For a moment, she feared she’d crossed a line of respect, but the sheriff’s benevolent smile and a chuckle that obviously pained him reassured her. As far as she was concerned, though, she felt as trapped in the job she used to love as if she were the one behind bars over at the jail.

  * * *

  Despite his exhaustion, Micah’s troubled thoughts kept him awake. How could he write a novel with a heroine inspired by Grace when she thought so little of his first book? He had no doubt the truth would eventually come out that he was the author. What would she say when she found out? No matter how pure his intentions, if his story about her caused her pain, he simply could not write it. But then, hadn’t the Lord opened the way for him to publish his stories?

  Or was he mistaken? Was it his own pride that drove him to create these fictions? It wasn’t as if he was seeking fame, only an additional income so he could marry and provide for his wife. Of course, he did love to create the stories and had always felt the Lord approved. But then, if he was mistaken about the Lord wanting him to write, maybe he was mistaken about His direction for Micah to marry. He’d certainly been wrong about the Lord sending Miss Sutton to be his wife.

  He laughed to himself. Miss Sutton had ceased her flirtations days ago, much to his relief. He prayed she w
ould find happiness, but she seemed to already have found it. Perhaps it was her involvement in directing the children’s pageant or perhaps her hopes of moving to Denver. And with her commendable housekeeping and cooking skills, one day she would make some good man an excellent wife.

  And what of Micah’s matrimonial call? Would the Lord give him more direction? In truth, he now realized that since sensing God’s call to marry, he’d depended more upon his feelings and assumptions than on prayer and seeking God’s will. He would rectify that now. Kneeling beside his bed, he asked the Lord to make clear His will, for marriage or singleness, for writing additional books or for informing his publisher that there would be no more stories by the Cowboy Storyteller.

  As he climbed back in bed and closed his eyes, Grace’s lovely face flashed before him. If that was the Lord’s answer about his writing, Micah still didn’t understand what he was supposed to do.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Micah conducted a brief graveside funeral for Deke Smith in the graveyard north of Esperanza. Grace came but stood back near the fence. Other than Mr. Macy, the undertaker, and Adam Starling, who’d helped carry the coffin and dig the grave with pickax and shovel through the frozen ground, Deke had no mourners. At least Micah could take comfort that heaven now rejoiced over a sinner saved.

  For his own part, he thanked the Lord that Deke had kept Hardison from killing Grace and Marybeth. And him, of course. After having a killer point a gun at him and fully intend to shoot, Micah felt extremely grateful to be alive. Nothing like a brush with death to make a man count his blessings.

  He wanted to say something to that effect to Grace, but she left the graveyard before he had a chance. She’d avoided him for two days now, and he couldn’t imagine why. After their success in saving Marybeth and stopping the outlaws, they should be celebrating. Together.

  When he returned home for supper, he found Nolan Means chatting with Joel in the parlor. From the kitchen came the sound of two female voices, Miss Sutton’s and Anna’s. Seemed he would be having guests tonight. Seemed they needed another lady to balance the party. But Grace had moved back to her parents’ ranch, so he couldn’t delay supper by going out to invite her. He hoped she would come to prayer meeting so he could ask her if she was all right.

  “Good evening, Reverend.” Nolan stood to shake his hand. “I hope you don’t mind our intrusion.”

  “Not at all.” Micah noticed the banker had relaxed considerably now that the outlaws no longer posed a threat. “You’re welcome here anytime.”

  “Electra said you were a true Southern gentleman in regard to hospitality.” Nolan took his seat again.

  Electra? He addressed her by her Christian name? Micah glanced at Joel, who returned a sly look. “I’m sure she and Joel appreciated your hospitality and the protection of your bodyguards.” Micah chuckled. “And I doubt Miss Sutton expected to find the Wild West quite so wild.”

  “And yet she has adapted admirably.” The pride in Nolan’s eyes was nothing short of proprietary. “So much so that just today she has consented to be my wife.” His chest puffed up like a bantam rooster’s.

  As overwhelming relief swept through him, Micah dropped into his favorite overstuffed chair. Although Miss Sutton’s initial interest in him had quickly cooled, as his had for her, he’d felt a lingering disquiet about the whole situation. Now it was settled, and he didn’t have to worry any longer. “Congratulations.” He jumped up from his chair and crossed the room to shake Nolan’s hand. “Congratulations! I am very pleased for you.”

  Joel chuckled. “Sorry you lost out, Micah, but—”

  “But—” Micah wouldn’t let him finish “—a better man has won your lovely sister.” So his earlier suspicions had been right. This courtship had been ongoing from the first time these two had met. And yet with other matters to deal with, he’d failed to comprehend its depth. While he’d noticed Miss Sutton’s happiness, he hadn’t determined the cause of it. Once again, he became aware of his lack of discernment, something he’d never experienced until these last few months. How could he be so thickheaded? What other issues was he missing among his parishioners? “When will you be announcing the happy news?”

  “We’ll make the formal announcement at our Christmas ball, but Electra will probably want to show off her engagement ring after prayer meeting tonight.” Nolan’s face continued to beam with pride. “It was my mother’s, made of rubies and diamonds.”

  At supper, Micah made sure to fuss over the ring, which was indeed quite glorious—just the thing for a lady who hoped to advance as a social leader. After years of searching, at last Nolan had his bride, one who could teach his sister, Anna, the social skills he’d wanted her to learn since coming west. One who could host his annual Christmas party for the more prominent members of the community. Having lovingly accepted all of the children in her care for the Christmas pageant without respect to their social status, maybe Miss Sutton could even put an end to Nolan’s snobbishness.

  With the outlaws no longer a danger, a new sense of excitement regarding Christmas came over the congregation. Over the past two days, Mrs. Foster and other church ladies had decorated the sanctuary with pine boughs and red ribbons. The Northams contributed a perfectly shaped pine tree for the reception hall. Mrs. Winsted donated hand-painted, blown glass ornaments and a gold star tree topper, also made of glass, all from Germany, to complete the decorations. Under strict supervision by Miss Sutton and Anna Means, the older children had the privilege of placing the delicate ornaments on the tree, while the younger ones strung popcorn for a garland.

  After greeting the children, Micah left them in the good care of Miss Sutton and Anna and proceeded to the sanctuary. In spite of the freezing temperature outside, the room was full to overflowing, as it had been since the troubles began. Micah prayed his congregation would continue to see how prayer could affect the outcome of even the worst of situations.

  They sang “While Shepherds Watched Their Flocks by Night” before settling down in their pews to hear Micah speak. As he always did, he gazed around the room to see who had come. He felt a little kick in his chest when he saw Grace seated in the middle of the room with her sisters and her parents. He certainly had missed her.

  “Friends, I know you want a report on the outlaws as much as you do a sermon this evening.” He smiled. “Maybe in place of a sermon.”

  As he’d hoped, the congregation laughed. He also heard a few “amens,” which brought on more laughter.

  “In this case, I believe the story of the outlaws will make a very fine sermon.” He briefly told the story of how he, Grace and Dub had approached the outlaws’ hiding place, leaving out the part about Everett Winsted’s information. The boy would pay the price for his actions soon enough. “Once Hardison so politely invited us into the cabin...” He paused while more laughter filled the room and then grew solemn to set the tone for his next words. “We found Marybeth alive and well, just as we’d prayed for her. She was tending Deke Smith, who lay near death.”

  Several folks made comments about his getting what he deserved.

  “I understand why you hold that opinion. But let us consider the two thieves who were crucified with Jesus. Many onlookers must have rejoiced to see those two die for the evil they had done. And yet Jesus saw the hearts of the men, and when one thief repented, our Lord forgave him and offered to him the grace of God. That is what happened in that cabin two days ago. Dathan Hardison refused God’s grace, but Deke Smith saw his need for Christ’s salvation and repented.”

  A hum of wonder and understanding swept through the congregation.

  “These outlaws, these killers each had a list of sins so long none of us could count them. But lest we think ourselves better than they, remember what Paul says in Romans 3:23: ‘All have sinned and come short of the glory of God.’ And yet, by grace are ye saved, and that not of yourselves, it is
a gift of God.” He paused, praying these dear people would understand his words. “What would we do without grace? We would all be lost without it.”

  As Micah spoke, his gaze connected with Grace’s. Lantern light reflected in her bright blue eyes, making her lovely face radiant. Her sweet, peaceful expression reached into his very heart and set it aglow. Grace. What would he do without Grace? He would be lost without her.

  His knees grew weak as realization swept over him. Oh, how he loved her—more than words could say. To him, she was far more than a member of his church. Far more than a mere friend. She was the one he’d been looking for, and she’d been here all the time, right in front of his undiscerning eyes. How had he failed to comprehend that he’d loved her for weeks, for months? She was the woman he yearned to spend the rest of his life with...

  Someone coughed, and he realized he hadn’t spoken for some time. How long, he couldn’t guess. Grace rolled her eyes, wrinkled her nose and gave him their private grin. Heat surged up his neck and into his cheeks. He could only hope no one noticed in the dimly lit sanctuary. But then, the way he felt right now, he wanted to shout the news to the entire world. He loved Grace Eberly!

  * * *

  Grace wrinkled her nose at the Rev. He got lost someplace in the middle of his sermon, and since he was looking at her, she rolled her eyes, too, hoping to help him out. When he finally blinked his eyes and went on with his sermon, she was relieved for him. Poor man. He’d been through so much these past few days. Maybe after prayer meeting, she could encourage him. She’d tell him that his telling the story about the two thieves crucified with Jesus finally helped her to understand God’s grace, even though she’d had the same thought herself at the cabin. Still, the Lord knew it was exactly what she needed to hear and to know after the way she’d judged poor Adam Starling. She had yet to make it up to the boy.