Love Inspired Historical October 2015 Box Set

by Lacy Williams

  She pressed her face into his shirt, breathing in his scent, a lovely mix of winter air, cedar and pine. “Oh, Caleb, you could never hurt me.”

  But he already had, by refusing to open his heart, by allowing himself to feel only friendship for her. If only she knew what kept him from wanting a real marriage. Why was friendship so important to him? Had his love for his wife been so strong there was nothing left for anyone else?

  How tragic. Ellie’s father had found love twice so she knew it was possible.

  Slowly, reluctantly, she stepped out of Caleb’s arms. “I need to check on the girls.”

  “Let me.” He smiled softly, placed a kiss on her nose. Then he was gone.

  Moments later, high-pitched, little-girl squeals of delight merged with Caleb’s masculine laughter.

  Ellie’s heart lurched at the sound. She would miss this family when their time together was up, which would be here all too soon. Mrs. Jenson was on the hunt for Caleb’s bride. The woman’s previous success rate told its own story. Caleb would be married come spring, if not sooner.

  Ellie could already feel the Voss family slipping away from her.

  “Please, Lord,” she prayed. “Let Caleb’s future wife be worthy of him and the girls.”

  Chapter Ten

  Not long after the twins woke from their nap, Caleb went back to work. He’d stayed longer than he should. Every moment in Ellie’s company put in him grave danger of falling in love with her—something that must not happen.

  He pushed into the jailhouse with more force than necessary. Prescott met him at the door, his lips pressed tightly together in what appeared to be an attempt to hold back a grin. “You have a visitor, Sheriff.”

  Caleb moved deeper into the building and spotted the boy. “Brody? Did we have an appointment?”

  The kid didn’t respond right away. He merely shifted from foot to foot, looking wildly uncomfortable. “No, I, uh,” he muttered, as he shot his gaze around the room, “need a favor.”

  “Shouldn’t you be in school?”

  “Miss O’Hare said I could leave early.”

  “Is that typical?”

  “No.” The boy scuffed his foot on the wood plank beneath him. “I might have told her my mother needed me.”

  “And yet you’re here instead of at home.”

  “Yeah, well.” Brody shrugged, still refusing to meet Caleb’s eyes. “That’s because I need your help.”

  Caleb shared a look with Prescott. The other man lifted his hands in the air, palms facing outward, as if to say he had no clue what the boy wanted. “What can I do for you?”

  “I want to buy Mama a Christmas present. But Mr. Snodgrass said I can’t come into the mercantile without an adult.” Brody heaved a sigh. “He said I can’t be trusted, seeing as I have a reputation around town for causing trouble.”

  Something dark moved through Caleb. He hadn’t been allowed in the mercantile at Brody’s age for much the same reason. Caleb had carried a reputation for causing trouble well into his teen years. Some of the distrust in him had been earned, some of it not. Brody was no different.

  However, considering the fact that he’d come to Caleb—the town sheriff—was proof that the boy wanted to make the right decisions. Something Caleb didn’t take lightly. “What did you have in mind for your mother?”

  “See, that’s the other problem.” Brody strained to contain his agitation, but it showed in his reddened cheeks and fidgeting feet. “She’s a girl. I don’t know what to get a girl.”

  “Maybe together we can figure it out.”

  Brody’s eyes lit with relief. “That’s what I was hoping you would say. Can we go over there now?”

  “Now works for me.” Caleb swung his gaze to Prescott’s. “You’re in charge while I’m gone.”

  “No problem.” The deputy settled in behind the desk and picked up his book.

  Caleb escorted Brody outside.

  It didn’t take long to make the short journey to the mercantile. Like other businesses in town, the store was decorated for Christmas with garland, bows and a large wreath on the front door.

  Brody led the way inside, with Caleb a step behind. He breathed in the scent of oats, spices and burlap.

  Halfway through the store, he caught Mr. Snodgrass’s eye, a man as wide as he was tall with a shock of unruly white hair and small, black eyes that reminded Caleb of a rat. The old man was anywhere between seventy and a hundred and had owned the mercantile since before Caleb had been born. In fact, the store was as much an institution of Thunder Ridge as the Whistle Stop Inn and the train station on the Union Pacific line.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Snodgrass.”

  “Sheriff Voss.” The older man smiled at Caleb then frowned when he caught sight of Brody studying a display of colored perfume bottles.

  Caleb had once been on the end of that very same look. Instinct had him setting a protective hand on Brody’s shoulder. “Mr. Driscoll and I are here to find his mother a Christmas gift.”

  “That boy is not allowed—”

  “I’m hoping you can help us find the perfect item.” Caleb shot Snodgrass a warning glare.

  Nose tilted at a haughty angle, the proprietor straightened his waistcoat with a hard snap. “Of course, Sheriff, it would be my pleasure to assist you and the boy.”

  His tone said otherwise.

  “How much money do you have, Brody?”

  The boy pulled out a handful of coins, mostly pennies, and spread them out on the counter. “Will this be enough to get a really good gift? Maybe one of these pretty bottles?”

  Mr. Snodgrass frowned. “That’s barely enough for a few pieces of candy.”

  “Oh.” Tears gathered in the boy’s eyes.

  “Brody,” Caleb said. “Why don’t you shop around while I speak with Mr. Snodgrass?”

  Drawing in a tight breath, Brody reluctantly did as he requested.

  Caleb waited until he was out of earshot before speaking again. “Whatever he chooses for his mother I’ll pay the difference.”

  “Do you think that’s wise?” Censure filled the storeowner’s voice. “Isn’t it sending him the wrong message?”

  “What message would that be?”

  “How will he learn to fend for himself if you pay his way?”

  Fend for himself? Caleb’s vision tinged red. “He’s still a boy.”

  “Plenty old enough to learn to take responsibility for himself. You, of all people, know what his life will be like when his mother passes. You should be teaching him—”

  The man broke off. Eyes narrowed, he released a feral hiss. “What is that boy up to now?”

  Caleb turned in time to see that boy pilfer one of the perfume bottles. It was a gutsy move, and about as stupid as they came, but Caleb understood Brody’s desperation.

  He’d once been that desperate.

  He started out.

  At the same moment, Mr. Snodgrass bellowed, “You there!” His face pinched in a sour expression. “Put that back this instant.”

  The man scrambled out from behind the counter, moving as fast as his large girth and ancient bones would allow.

  Caleb beat the other man to Brody by precious seconds and stuck out his palm. “Hand it over.”

  Eyes not quite meeting his, the boy did as requested without a single word of complaint or hesitation. He started to speak, but Caleb cut him off with a shake of the head. “I’ll deal with you later. For now, keep your mouth firmly shut. Understand?”

  The boy nodded, his face drained of color, his expression forlorn and full of guilt.

  Spinning back around, Caleb shot out his free hand to stop Snodgrass’s pursuit.

  “We’ll take this one.” He passed off the blue-tinted bottle before Mr. Snodgrass could argue and added, “We would like it wrapped in special Christmas paper with a pretty red bow on top.”

  The older man’s mouth worked but no words came out, just a high-pitched squeak of outrage. “But, but… I saw him put this in his p
ocket.”

  “It’s in your hand now.”

  A satisfying lurch of silence fell over the store.

  “There’s still the matter of payment.”

  Caleb dug out his wallet then handed over a banknote. “That should cover it.”

  Five minutes later, his mother’s gift tucked beneath his arm, a very silent Brody followed Caleb out of the mercantile.

  The sky had turned a dingy gray, and the threat of snow hung in the air. A block out, Brody’s silence broke like a poorly constructed dam over a rushing river. “I’m sorry, Sheriff. One minute I was looking at the bottles, wishing I could buy one for Mama, and the next thing I knew I was putting one in my pocket.”

  Regardless of understanding the boy’s motives, Brody had made a very poor error in judgment, one that could have ended very differently had Caleb not been in the store. “Stealing is still stealing, Brody.”

  “I’ve never done anything like that before.”

  “That’s no excuse.”

  “I’m sure I would have put it back before we left.”

  “Maybe you would have,” Caleb said. “And maybe you wouldn’t. The point is that your intention was to take something that didn’t belong to you.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I believe you are, but you’re not out of trouble yet. I expect you to work off the cost of your mother’s gift.”

  The boy hung his head. “Yeah, okay.”

  “You’ll start this afternoon, at the jail, cleaning out the wood-burning stove.”

  It would be hot, dirty work and would take all day. Caleb hoped the lesson stuck.

  The alternative was too depressing to contemplate.

  *

  Later that afternoon, when play practice was winding down, Ellie’s gaze landed on Brody Driscoll. He’d been unusually obedient. He even offered to help organize the younger children during song practice instead of taking a recess with his friends.

  It was during the first of the two songs that Brody told Ellie the entire tale of what had happened in the mercantile earlier that day. Once he started, his words tumbled over one another, making Ellie’s head spin as she tried to keep up.

  “And then Sheriff Voss paid for the gift and insisted Mr. Snodgrass wrap it up real pretty-like, with a red bow and everything.” Brody took a quick breath. “But when we were out on the sidewalk, he told me I was still in trouble and that I had to work off the cost of my mom’s gift, which was really fair of him, don’t you think?”

  Ellie ruffled the boy’s hair. “I do, indeed.”

  None of Brody’s story surprised her. Not the part about Caleb covering for him, or the part about him paying for the gift and insisting the boy work off the cost.

  Caleb took care of his town like family. He carried their burdens effortlessly and without complaint.

  Who carried his burdens? Who did he lean on when life got tough? Who kept him company and talked to him about his day?

  Oh, Caleb.

  He needed someone to share his life with him, not just a friend, but a helpmate, someone who cared about him, who loved him. If only…

  “…and it was really dirty, with lots of soot and grime. It smelled real bad, too, but it wasn’t too terrible.”

  Realizing Brody had continued the conversation without her, Ellie attempted to file through the information he’d imparted. “Sounds as if you like hard work.”

  “I suppose.” The boy lifted a shoulder. “It sure beats getting in trouble.”

  Ellie couldn’t argue with that.

  The song came to an end. She gathered all the children at the front of the church. “We made excellent progress today, but the play is in less than two weeks. I expect everyone with speaking parts to know your lines by the time we meet again. You’ll perform without scripts.”

  A groan rose up from the older children.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll prompt you if you forget your lines.”

  The next ten minutes passed quickly. The older boys and girls went on their way. Parents arrived to retrieve the younger children. Some took a moment to thank Ellie for her work on the play, while others hurried out of the church in an effort to beat the bad weather brewing in the sky.

  Kate said her goodbyes, adding a reminder about their meeting at her dress shop the following evening for final wardrobe decisions.

  And then…

  There were only three children left—Caleb’s daughters and Brody. The girls hovered around the boy like bees to a flower. They didn’t seem to mind that he rarely responded.

  Ellie’s smile came immediately as she watched their valiant effort to engage Brody in conversation.

  Both girls stared up at him with stars in their eyes.

  Brody, for his part, seemed completely oblivious to their female interest. The tolerant pose he struck reminded Ellie of Caleb as a boy. Had she looked at him in the same way his daughters stared up at Brody?

  Had Caleb been equally unaware of her?

  She had only a moment to ponder the question when the man himself arrived at the church. His grin flashed beneath the wide round brim before he reached up and swept the hat off his head.

  Ellie’s heart fluttered at the romantic figure he made.

  He was a tall, lean man, muscular in all the right places—shoulders, biceps, chest. It was easy to see why Lizzie Covington had fallen for him. He was pleasing to look at, but his best feature, at least in Ellie’s opinion, was his rock-solid character. He was a man of Christian integrity, who exuded quiet strength and confidence.

  Caleb not only knew what to do in a crisis, he followed through with whatever needed to be done. A woman could lean on him in good times and bad.

  Hannah caught sight of her father and rushed over to him. Grace soon followed. And so began a detailed accounting of today’s play practice. When they’d exhausted that topic, the little girls prattled on about wonderful Brody and magnificent Miss Kate and their very most favorite Miss Ellie and how much they loved, loved, loved singing practice the most.

  Caleb nodded his head, looking a little dazed.

  Even Ellie found her head spinning. Her heart filled with affection. The girls were unusually animated and utterly delightful. Becoming too attached was a bad idea, the worst of the worst. She’d be wise to keep up her guard. Too late, something inside her whispered.

  Too, too late.

  She loved all three members of the Voss family.

  Caleb crouched in front of his daughters and brushed a tangle of curls off each of their faces. “I’m sorry to hear you had a terrible time.”

  “No, Papa. Weren’t you listening? We had a, oh—” Hannah blew out a laughing gust of air “—you just made a joke.”

  Dropping a kiss on her head, he stood, then looked over at Brody. “Hey, wasn’t expecting you to be here still.”

  “I’m heading out now.”

  “You could have left sooner,” Ellie said, only just realizing that Brody never stuck around this long after practice.

  “I wanted to wait until the sheriff showed up before leaving.”

  A line of confusion dug across Caleb’s forehead. “Was there something you needed to speak with me about tonight?”

  “No. I—” Brody pushed out a fast breath. “I didn’t want your daughters and Miss Ellie to have to wait all alone inside the church.”

  Understanding dawned in Caleb’s eyes. “You stuck around to keep them safe.”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  “That was good of you, Brody.” Caleb clapped the boy on the shoulder. “I’m here now so you can go on home to your mother.”

  “Yeah, okay.” The boy turned to Ellie. “I can walk you home on my way.”

  Sympathy squeezed Ellie’s heart. Beneath all the pranks, Brody was a good boy. “That’s very kind of you to offer. Let me gather up my belongings. Wait here, I’ll only be a moment.” She quickly stuffed papers in her bag then reached for her cloak.

  Caleb beat her to it. “Oh.” She blinked in surprise. Thi
s wasn’t the first time she’d failed to hear his silent approach. “You’re certainly light on your feet.”

  “Necessary for my job.” He wrapped her cloak around her shoulders, then drew the open collar together at the throat.

  Ellie’s heart took a hard thump, thump, and she told herself, no. Or, more precisely, No, he can’t be yours. He only wants you as a friend.

  “You all right, Ellie?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “You sure?” He cocked his head. “Your face is pale.”

  Avoiding a direct answer, she cast a quick glance to the back of the church. Hannah and Grace had returned to their one-sided conversation with Brody.

  “Brody told me what you did for him at the mercantile.”

  Caleb was silent for so long she wondered if he’d heard her.

  “You’ll be pleased to know he owned up to what he did.”

  “He’s not a bad kid.” Caleb released a very masculine, if somewhat weary, exhale. “Just in need of guidance.”

  “He’s going to be okay,” she said. “He has his aunt, and my father, and you. What you did today, giving him the opportunity to make a bad decision right, will go a long way toward setting him on the proper path.”

  “Everyone deserves a second chance.”

  Monroe hadn’t thought so. At least not in her—or, more to the point, her brother’s—case. When Ellie told him about Everett’s incarceration, he’d paused only slightly before he retracted his marriage proposal. Apparently, a preacher in charge of a flock of godly men and women couldn’t have his name connected to a man in prison for murder.

  If not a preacher, then who?

  Ellie’s father had always taught that God loved the lost. The Lord wanted to save everyone, not just the good, but also sinners.

  “Ellie? Did you hear me?”

  She jolted at the sound of Caleb’s voice coming at her as if from a great distance. “No, I—” She sighed. “I was thinking about Everett.”

  Eyes filled with sorrow, Caleb rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help him more.”

  “You did what you could.”

  “It wasn’t enough.”

  Ellie heard the regret in his voice and worried that Caleb carried a portion of the blame over Everett’s incarceration. “It’s not your fault he went to prison.”