ROMANCE: Holiday Romance: Her Christmas Surprise (Sweet Clean Holiday Romance) (Holiday Bride Book 1)

by Mercy Levy

  Before Richard could fire a single shot, a rifle shot and a gunshot tore into his chest. John looked at Melanie who had fired the gun in her hand. Then he looked at Sheriff Wheeler who was lowering his rifle. “Well, that should do it,” he said and walked up to John and patted him on the shoulder. “You're a good man, John. Now do me a favor and leave town with that lovely woman. It ain't often a woman stands by her man the way she just did.”

  Melanie dropped the gun in her hand and ran to John. Hugging him, she thanked God for His love and mercy. “Even in a storm, You are always with us.”

  “Yes, God is always with us, even in a storm,” John agreed and wrapped his arms around Melanie. Looking down at Richard Griffith's dead body, he nodded his head. “Now I can leave in peace.”

  *

  Melanie walked into an exquisite restaurant fashioned with every luxury a woman could dream of. Dressed in a soft pink evening gown with her hair flowing freely over her tender shoulders, she appeared as princess prepared to eat her dinner. John, dressed in a gray suit that spoke of intelligence and strength, escorted Melanie to a table covered with a European designed table cloth. Sitting on the table were crystal water glasses and wine glasses, fancy plates and bowls, silverware and napkins that made John feel uneasy. Numerous patrons were sitting at the other tables, each talking and tending to their own meals, not paying Melanie or John a bit of attention. “This isn't Greenville,” Melanie smiled at John as he helped her sit down.

  John sighed. “I know. But this restaurant is very fancy. I am very poor.”

  “You are not poor. You were hired to work as a medical apprentice. That is very respectable, John,” Melanie pointed out proudly. “Rich or poor, I love you, John.”

  “I love you, too,” John smiled into Melanie's eyes. He began to speak again when a strange man appeared.

  “Is your name John?” the man asked.

  Melanie felt her stomach tighten. The strange man had thin gray hair and a thin gray mustache. He was wearing a nice brown suit and carrying a briefcase. Melanie immediately knew the man was a lawyer. “Is there a problem?” she asked.

  “I'll say there is. May I sit down?”

  “Please,” John said.

  “My name is James Johnson. I'm a lawyer,” the man explained taking his seat. “If you are who I think you are, then I will be very happy. If you are not, then I will be very upset. I have traveled all the way from Boston searching for the son of my client who passed away last year. And with today being Thanksgiving, I do hope you are the man I am searching for because I am ready to eat a warm meal and rest.”

  “My name is John,” John told James.

  “Your mother, she was a Paiute woman, right?” James asked as color and excitement flushed into his cheeks.

  “Yes.”

  “Oh praise be,” James beamed. “I have finally found you.”

  “What is this all about?” Melanie asked.

  “Money,” James replied and opened his briefcase. “You see, your biological father was a man named John McLeod. I suppose that's where you got your name.”

  “My first name, yes. I was never given a last name,” John confessed.

  “No matter,” James smiled and brought out a stack of papers. “Your mother, the Paiute, traveled to Boston with your father. She never confessed to him that she had twins. She made your father believe she miscarried. Why? Who knows...shame….fear...Anyway, a few years ago, your mother confessed to the truth before she died. Every since that day your father has been searching for you and your sister.”

  “My sister is dead.”

  “I found that out when I stopped in Greenville. What a dreary little town it was,” James told John. “However, the man who owned the hotel informed me that you had relocated to Sacramento. You had left Greenville one day before I arrived. The weather delayed me, I'm afraid.”

  “How did you know John would be here, at this restaurant?” Melanie asked confused.

  “You, my dear,” James smiled. “Sheriff Wheeler told me all about you. I was able to locate your new residence here in Sacramento and your maid told me where you were dining tonight. Now,” James continued, “let's get down to business. John, you father left you and your sister quite a bit of money...a fortune really.”

  John sat very still and listened to James. When James finished speaking, John looked at Melanie. “What do you think?”

  “Oh John,” Melanie giggled, “what do I think? I think you are a very wealthy man. I think that God has rewarded you for your courage and faithfulness. I think this is the best Thanksgiving ever. Waiter, please, bring us so bread.”

  James began to stand up. “Well, I will leave you two alone and we can talk more tomorrow.”

  “No, stay and eat Thanksgiving dinner with us,” Melanie pleaded. “You are more than welcomed.”

  “How about me?”

  Melanie and John looked up and saw Sheriff Wheeler appear wearing a dark brown suit. His hair was combed and his rough beard was trimmed. “Sheriff Wheeler?”

  “Yes, I forgot to mention that Sheriff Wheeler agreed to accompany me to Sacramento. It seems like he is no longer welcomed as Sheriff in Greenville,” James explained.

  “I was about ready to retire anyway,” Sheriff Wheeler explained. “Can I sit down?”

  “Please,” Melanie smiled. “It's so great to see you again.”

  John reached out and patted Sheriff Wheeler on the shoulder. “My friend, it is good to see you again. Tonight is a night of great news and good friends.”

  “Keep smiling because you're paying for my meal. You may be rich, but I'm still a poor man,” Sheriff Wheeler told John.

  John smiled at Melanie. “A man who stands by a friend deserves to share in his friend's good fortune. You will not be poor for much longer, Sheriff Wheeler. Jesus commands us to love each other.”

  “That's right,” Melanie said. “You stood by John as a true. And now I ask is you stand with him again as his best man at our wedding which will be very soon.” Melanie reached out across the table and touched John's hand. “A new life begins.”

  “Yes,” John smiled happily, “a new life begins.”

  “Wedding?” Sheriff Wheeler asked and then smiled and nodded his head. “I guess that shouldn't come as a surprise. Congratulations.”

  “Love is forever,” John spoke and placed his eyes into Melanie's heart. “Love is not to be forgotten or denied. Love is to be cherished and cared for by two hearts that are forever united as one. For all the love lost, we who are alive, must capture that love and allow it to live.”

  Melanie felt joy wrap itself around her heart. “I will love you the way I have always wanted to love a husband,” she whispered to John in her heart. Closing her eyes she saw herself leaving Atlanta as a broken woman. Now, she thought, opening her eyes and looking at John, her heart was complete in love. “Happy Thanksgiving, everyone. May we share many more together.”

  Natalie’s Thanksgiving Surprise

  Chapter 1

  Going West

  Natalie gasped and nearly fainted. Mr. Brown quickly ran across an expensive Persian rug, took Natalie's frail arm, and helped her to a dark green sitting chair resting in front of a stone fireplace holding a warm fire. Sitting down, Natalie closed her eyes. The sound of sap popping in the fireplace filled her ears and the smell of fresh pine filled her nostrils. “Oh...dear,” she whispered in a worried voice.

  Mr. Brown slowly eased his way over to the fireplace, leaned against a hand carved wooden mantel, and sighed. There, before him was one of the most beautiful women in Boston. Young, brilliant and very daring, the woman was the most sought after diamond in Boston. Every single man who dreamed of marrying Natalie had their hopes dashed into pieces, though. Perhaps, Mr. Brown thought staring at Natalie, it was the long red hair and old Irish temper veiled with a deceiving charm that kept the greedy eyes of single men from chaining her beauty into a dungeon? “Ms. McClure, perhaps I should leave you alone?”

  Natalie
slowly opened her dark green eyes. Sitting in her favorite reading room, she forced her mind to take control of her shocked emotions. A mere moment of weakness was to be expected at such news, she told herself. Taking her soft hands, she smoothed out the fancy dark red dress she was wearing and calmly brushed her long red hair off her tender shoulders. “What is left of my fortune?” she asked.

  Mr. Brown cleared his throat. At the age of sixty-eight, the man felt tired and empty. Having spent his adult life working as a banker and seeking his own fortune, he had denied himself a wife and children. All that he had to return home to at night was an empty home filled with items cold money purchased instead of the heart. “Well...”

  Natalie focused her eyes on Mr. Brown’s dark gray hair. She examined his well-tailored gray suit. She studied his intelligent face. “Mr. Brown, I want a direct answer,” she demanded.

  “Your father left...certain debts...debts that should have remained forgotten because you know that he didn't acquire the debts alone. Nonetheless, after those who he was in debt to are repaid...your finances--”

  “How much!” Natalie insisted.

  “You are not being left poor and destitute, Ms. McClure. Your father left you a grand sum when he died. Even after the debts he owes are paid off, you will remain a very wealthy woman,” Mr. Brown explained. Then, he told Natalie the total sum that would remain in her possession after all the debts her father owed were repaid.

  Natalie felt relief wash her anxiety away. Assuming the worst, she was surprised to hear the final sum that would be left in her possession. Growing silent, she focused her eyes on the fire playing in the fireplace. “I see,” she finally spoke. “Mr. Brown, isn't it possible that Mr. Hayton will still pursue my remaining fortune, though? I know he is the brain behind all of this.”

  A stubborn enemy of Natalie's father, Tim Hayton vowed to destroy Natalie and take every cent she owned by using the deceptive arms of the courts do perform his evil deed. “Tim Hayton,” Mr. Brown sighed miserably, “yes, he was the person who brought to the court's attention the debts your father owed, neglecting to mention that he himself was also responsible for part of the debts himself. Even though the statutes of limitation had passed on each debt, Hayton pressed the courts to hold you responsible, I'm afraid.”

  “You mean that vermin paid off Judge Millin's. Everyone knows Judge Millins can be bought for a mere penny,” Natalie corrected Mr. Brown. Feeling fury begin burning in her chest, Natalie stood up. “Mr. Brown, I'm no longer safe in Boston. If I remain here, the awful man will certainly destroy what is left of my fortune.”

  And with that, Natalie dared to speak an idea she had been contemplating since her father's death. Mr. Brown listened with sharp ears. “The man in question, how well do you know him?”

  “Very little,” Natalie confessed. “My father bought cattle from him, nothing more. However, he has been very insistent in writing me letters since my father's death. If I have my money transferred to a bank in the west, and leave Boston under the guise of night, with your assistance of course, perhaps I can escape the clutches of Hayton. And once that evil man finds out who I have run off to marry, he will certainly back down. Hayton is a coward, after all. Mr. Crandall is known as a rough, hard, man who backs down from no man.”

  Mr. Brown considered Natalie's plan. “You will divorce this Mr. Crandall once Hayton agrees to leave you alone? I don't like the sound of him.”

  “Of course,” Natalie promised. “I understand how to play my pawns in order to save the queen. I will regret leaving Boston, but Sacramento may be a fitting new home after Hayton is put in his place. Even with that awful man disposed of, there are still certain judges in Boston that can become a thorn in my side. I need to vacate Boston altogether.”

  Mr. Brown studied on Natalie's words. Drawing in a deep breath, he slowly began nodding his head. “I will begin making the arrangements immediately,” he said. Pulling an ivory pipe from his pocket, he filled it with cherry tobacco.

  Natalie sat back down in the sitting chair and focused on the fire. “And I,” Natalie stated “will write a very quick letter to Mr. Crandall in Nevada...my new—temporary—husband. If I schedule my time wisely, I should be his new wife before Thanksgiving.”

  Outside, a hard rain began to fall.

  *

  Richard Crandall watched a few autumn leaves whisper up and down the sleepy street of Dry Rock. Knocking some dust off his gray suit and then holding the gray hat on his head as a strong gust of cool wind kicked by, he growled to himself. Standing on the veranda of the local hotel, he glanced at a deadly man standing next to him. “I had the jury bought and paid for. Duncan Andrews should have hung. What happened?” he asked in a furious growl. In no mood to wait for the late stage coach, he felt as if he could tear the entire day in half.

  Mason Black (if that was the man's real name), didn't look at Richard. He wasn't interested in looking at a man who reminded him of a broken buck. Sure, Richard appeared tough, with a bear-like face and a growl that scared most men, but Mason saw Richard for what he really was: a broken buck attempting to scratch out a name for himself. “Who knows?” Mason answered. Chewing on a piece of straw, he leaned back on the porch railing. Wearing a black suit, he calmly pulled a black hat down over his eyes. “Maybe the money wasn't enough?”

  Richard threw his hands down onto the porch railing with angry force. His thick gray hair was messy from the winds. His face beaten rough from years in the heat. His body worn but powerful. He knew what Mason thought of him. Most men like Mason always underestimate their elders. And that's just what Richard wanted. “Listen to me, Mason. You're a hired gun and nothing else. I have you a job to do and you failed. You failed to kill Duncan. I told you to take care of him personally, but you sent one of your lackeys. And where did that get us?”

  Mason took his right hand and tipped his hat up a little. Looking at Richard he resisted the urge to shoot the man. “I underestimated the man's skill with a gun. Next time, I'll go after him personally.”

  “I need his land,” Richard snapped. Raising his right hand, he hit the porch railing. “Every rancher in this part of the land was willing to sell out to me until Duncan Andrews rallied them against me. I want that man dead, Mason, and I want him dead before the stars come out.”

  Before Manson could answer, the stage coach came roaring down the sleepy street. “Your bride arrives,” Mason told Richard.

  “My money arrives,” Richard corrected Mason. Leaving the veranda, he walked to the stage, leaving Mason behind to watch a broken buck attempt to deceive a pretty, young, doe.

  Natalie wiped dust off of the yellow and white dress she was wearing. Exhausted from a long, dirty, bumpy trip, all she wanted was a comfortable room and a soft bed to rest her head on. Offering a polite smile at an old man who had been talking her ear off, she carefully stood up. “It has been very pleasant speaking with you.”

  “Remember what I said about Crandall,” the old man warned Natalie. Picking up a book, he settled back into his seat. With no one else to talk to, he allowed his mouth to rest.

  Natalie stared at the old man. She was about to speak when the stage coach driver opened the coach door. “Mam, help you down?”

  “Please,” Natalie said keeping her eyes on the old man.

  As Natalie climbed out of the coach into the cool autumn day, she began to wonder if she should abandon her plan and travel directly to Sacramento. “Ms. McClure,” a voice said.

  Turning around, Natalie saw Richard Crandall walking toward her. She watched as the man forced his legs through the heat, struggling to maintain a forced smile. “Mr. Crandall, right on time,” Natalie said in a controlled voice, worried and pleased with the man's dangerous appearance. Surely Crandall would scare off Hayton...but then what? Would the man simply smile and nod and let Natalie be free of him after he had fulfilled his purpose?

  Richard took off the gray hat he was wearing and offered a fake courtesy bow. “I am a man of my word.” />
  “I can see that,” Natalie replied spotting Mason watching her. The sight of the man made her blood turn cold.

  “You must be tired. I have the best room at the hotel reserved for you. After you rest and freshen up, I will come by and we will have dinner together,” Richard told Natalie. Natalie quickly noticed that Richard told her the agenda rather than giving her a choice in the matter.

  “Perhaps we can have dinner tomorrow, Mr. Crandall. I believe I will go to my room and rest for the remainder of the day and throughout the night. I am extremely tired and I'm afraid I would be very poor company in such a state.”

  Richard, not expecting to be tossed to the side, began to insist on his agenda but realized that pushing at an untamed horse so quickly might cause it to run. “I understand,” he said in a voice that sounded sick. “I will come by tomorrow and we can go for a buggy ride before dinner.”

  Natalie didn't say yes or no. Instead, she took her eyes away from Richard and studied the hotel. The hotel, to her relief, appeared to be in fine shape. Large, finely built, with a fresh coat of blue paint on the outside, the hotel offered a soothing invitation of rest to weary travelers. “Tomorrow,” Natalie told Richard.

  Richard stared into Natalie's beautiful face. Suspicion began to arise in his mind. Why would such a beautiful woman leave Boston and travel to a small, dusty, town to marry a man she barely knew? Sure. He had taken the time to write her letters...he had taken the time to write many wealthy women letters...but Natalie was the first woman to nibble at the hook and then finally swallow the bait. Why? “Tomorrow,” Richard said and said goodbye without offering to help Natalie with her luggage.

  Natalie watched Richard walk away toward the livery stable. The man on the veranda walked down onto the street followed Richard. Natalie knew that the plan she had arranged would not work to her advantage in the manner she had hoped. “When is the next stage to Sacramento?” she asked the stage coach driver.