Caroline Lee's Christmas Collection: Six sweet historical western romances

by Caroline Lee

  This morning she’d rushed to be ready to leave on time. She’d visited the train depot for a schedule, and then sent the girls a telegraph advising them to come to Cheyenne immediately, even including specific travel instructions. Since the telegraph office wouldn’t be able to reach her with their reply, she told them she was unreachable, but would be waiting for them at the depot on the afternoon of the seventeenth. If something—such as weather—prevented her from meeting them, they were to secure lodging and leave word at the depot. It was worrisome to someone like her, who liked to have control over situations and a plan for everything, but she knew that Wendy was smart and would make the right decisions. Hopefully, though, they’d all be together by Christmas Eve.

  Then she’d gone back to Bullard’s Dry Goods, to pick up the items she thought she would need to run a household through the winter. She found herself excited at the prospect of tackling a new and different role; she’d run her own home in the years since her parents had died, but never one so isolated, and never for two strangers. Knowing that her sisters would soon be with her, and that they would be having a real Christmas, was part of her excitement.

  At Bullard’s she picked through spices, and added more flour, sugar, salt, and other cooking necessities to Ash’s tab. She included a big bag of popping corn and a smaller one of cranberries. Both would be delicious, and had the added bonus of being useful as decorations. There was a big spool of red ribbon, and smaller one of white ribbon, and several bundles of cinnamon sticks. She’d use them in cooking, but the spice was always indicative of the season, and she was looking forward to scenting Ash’s home with it.

  Her new employer showed up as she was looking over the bolts of cloth. He told her he’d picked up enough butter, eggs, cheese, pickles, dried meat and other perishables to last all five of them through the winter, and everything was waiting out front on the sleigh, along with her trunks. Now that he was here, she was almost embarrassed by how much she’d bought with his money, but he politely and impassively started loading her purchases onto the sleigh.

  When he’d gone out the door for the last time, she hurried over to the counter with two bolts of cloth she’d picked out. One, a thick blue wool, would make serviceable coats and gloves for her and her sisters, who owned nothing warm enough for a Cheyenne winter. The other bolt was a soft gray cotton that reminded Molly of Ash; she knew it was a silly reason to buy it, but surely she’d be able to make new dresses and underclothes with it as needed.

  She was so focused on her inner justifications that she almost didn’t notice the clerk, a young woman with a pinched mouth, giving her disapproving glances. Molly didn’t have the chance to ask, before the woman said with a raised brow, “Mr. Barker is certainly buying a lot of things for you.”

  Molly flushed at the implication that Ash was gifting her these things. “I’m his new housekeeper. He merely had me choose the items most necessary for his home.”

  At the woman’s sharp intake of breath, Molly met her eyes and saw the scorn in them. It didn’t take long for understanding to dawn; Molly was about to venture into the wild with a strange man and his brother, to live alone on their ranch. Her reputation would be surely ruined.

  She resisted the urge to flush in embarrassment and duck her head. Instead, she straightened her back, stuck her chin out, and reminded herself of her choice. It was her choice to come to the west, to search out new opportunities to follow her dream. It was her choice to work hard, and give up the chance at a home of her own, so that her sisters could one day achieve that goal. What did it matter if her reputation was ruined by living with Ash Barker? As long as her sisters had the opportunity to make their own lives, it would be worth it. And besides, it didn’t need to be for more than a few months; Ash had said that they couldn’t afford to keep her past his arm healing, and then the three Murray sisters could travel on to Salt Lake City, and start new lives again there.

  So Molly paid for her cloth with as much dignity as she could muster, and marched from Bullard’s with her head held high, and tried to pretend that living with Ash Barker was going to be a sacrifice she willingly made.

  The only problem was, the more time she spent in his company, the more she wondered if it was really going to be a sacrifice. The man was courteous and kind in his own taciturn way, and becoming more handsome by the minute. She sat beside him on the ride to his ranch, and while he made no effort to engage her in conversation, he answered her questions honestly and in plenty of detail.

  At first, she was distracted enough by the scenery to forget about the niceties of conversation. She’d traveled across the plains by rail, and had seen flatter land… but as Cheyenne receded behind them, she was struck by the nothingness. Along the rail, there’d been small towns or depots. Out here, for as far as she could see in any direction, there was nothing but snow-covered scrub, with hills in the distance. But strangely, she liked it. She could see the lonely beauty in it, and admired the kind of person who could make a home out here.

  She hadn’t even been on the sleigh for an hour when she realized that the winter coat she wore wasn’t going to be sufficient protection from the Cheyenne winter. Ash saw her rub her legs to warm them, and without a word, pulled a buffalo robe forward and draped it over her lap. It was cozier than she could have imagined, but didn’t help her shoulders, which were just as chilled. She inched closer to him, drawn by his heat, and stopped only when their shoulders touched. It was such a small thing—such an inappropriate thing!—but his touch made her warm all over, and she finally sighed in contentment.

  Nate picked his way behind the sleigh, allowing the larger horse pulling the vehicle to tamp down more of the snow for his animal. But by turning slightly, Molly was able to carry on a conversation, and discovered more about the outgoing, gregarious young man. She discovered that his mother had been following the railroad as it was built, earning her keep various ways—Nate had the good grace to blush at this remark—and he didn’t know who his rightful pa was. After she’d died he’d just kept on following the rail-workers, doing whatever odd-jobs he could to stay fed and warm. It had been a hard life on a small child who’d inherited his grandmother’s dark skin and hair, and stood out as obviously Indian in a place as prejudiced as the west. When the railroad had reached Cheyenne, he’d gotten into some trouble with a local drunk, and Ash came upon him just in time to halt a deadly beating. When he’d recovered well enough, he decided that he was done with the railroad. Because Ash was the only person who’d ever stuck his neck out for him, Nate decided to find this mysterious man who lived outside of town.

  “Goodness!” That was quite a tale. “How old were you?”

  Nate didn’t have to think long. “Seven, or there abouts. Ash says I was pretty scrawny, so he never was sure.”

  Molly thought about a child Annie’s age walking all this distance from Cheyenne. “But we’ve been riding for hours! However did you manage it?”

  Nate’s hat was pulled down over his forehead and ears, and his collar turned up against the cold, but she could see the sparkle in his eyes, knowing he had her attention. “It’s shorter by horse, but probably two days walking. I think it took me about four.”

  “Four days?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I remember wishing I’d stolen a horse instead of the food I had. I’d forgotten to take water, though, which is what almost did me in. I was lucky it didn’t rain, though, because I was following the tracks Ash’d made on his way back.”

  The normally silent man spoke up, his rumble startling her. “You were lucky in a lot of ways, back then.”

  Nate laughed. “I could’ve run into any number of dangerous animals, or bandits, or wandered off the trail and starved. But I didn’t, probably because I was too stupid to be scared.”

  Molly risked a glance at the man beside her. “And you let him stay, once he found you?”

  He shook his head. “He was a half-day from death when I found him, riding fence one afternoon. Spring’s a busy time f
or me, and I couldn’t afford to lug him back to town. So I let him stay ‘til he was better, and then he started doing chores, and then he got more useful, and by the time I had a break, I decided he wasn’t so bad to have around.”

  Nate spoke up again. “Ash didn’t like company much back then, but I can be pretty handy to have around. All I knew was that he’d saved me twice—and a few more times since then—and I wasn’t going to let him get rid of me, not if I could help it. I started calling myself ‘Barker’ too, and after that he was pretty much stuck with me.”

  And so they’d become a family, each the only one the other had. Their hard work ensured the ranch’s success, and they’d become invested in the other’s happiness as well. Why, it was such a sweet story, Molly found herself getting weepy just thinking about it, and had to change the subject.

  She didn’t quite feel like weeping when she first caught sight of the ranch, but it was a close thing. She hadn’t known what to expect, but this wouldn’t have been it, even if she could guess. The cabin was squat and ugly, made of rough-hewn logs and what looked like mud, although it could be some sort of plaster. There was a long porch on the front, that connected to a series of outbuildings—goodness, she’d have to go outside to use the necessary!—and real glass in the windows. But otherwise it was drab and unappealing, and that included the barns. There was a large one where the brothers said the horses were stabled, the ones that hadn’t been sold off in the fall. And the smaller, farther one held the equipment. Ash dropped her and her trunks off on the porch before turning the sleigh in that direction.

  It gave her a moment to survey her new temporary home. From the porch, she had to change her perspective. The view was actually quite stunning, with the unbroken snow-covered hills and distant mountains. The barns and outbuildings even looked rather quaint, once she saw them from the porch. Feeling a little better about the ranch, she went inside.

  Ash had obviously devoted his attention to the inside of his home, rather than the outside. The house was small, but comfortable, and full of little touches that showed the man had lived there for many years. On their long ride to the house, Ash had explained—in answer to her question—that he’d built the house back when Cheyenne was Crow Creek Crossing, and only a few dozen people lived there. He used to hunt for the army base at Laramie, and spent his winters in solitude here, improving his home. When Nate arrived, they’d added an extra room together.

  There was a kitchen area to her left; not a separate room, like she was used to, but divided from the main room by the kitchen table. She was thrilled to discover it had most of the modern conveniences she was used to, which would make her job much easier. There were two long counters, with cabinets above and below, and a deep wash basin. Two windows, on either side of the stove, would provide plenty of light and ventilation, if it ever got warm enough to warrant opening them. The stove itself was wood-burning, which shouldn’t surprise her, but had an actual Auxiliary Air-Chamber, a new invention that would make baking much easier.

  The main room had a large fireplace along the back wall, and a heavy mantel above it. There were two comfortable chairs placed in front of it on a beautiful braided rug, and a small table between them. The back door stood directly opposite the front, and there were two closed doors off either side of the main room; Molly assumed those were the brothers’ bedrooms. A small staircase led up the back wall to a loft that covered half the main room. From where she stood she couldn’t see anything up there.

  The house was simple, but messy. There were dishes piled in the sink and on the table, and dust on the surfaces that didn’t see much use. Ash hadn’t been joking when he said his arm had seriously hampered his housekeeping abilities. But it wasn’t anything a few hours with a broom and rag couldn’t fix, and suddenly, Molly was excited to start this new adventure. Yes, she’d left behind everything she knew, and had traveled halfway across the country, and had accepted a job she’d never considered… but wasn’t it all thrilling? She resisted the urge to spin around the room, but couldn’t help the big smile that spread across her face. She was going to make sure this house stayed neat and orderly, and her new employers were well-fed, and she’d make a home for her sisters. And, by God, they were all finally going to have the Christmas they deserved.

  The next morning Ash woke up to the smell of flapjacks. It took him a bit to figure that one out, since it’d never happened before. He’d lived alone for so long, and now Nate waited for him to wake up and get breakfast going. Hell, usually he had to prod the kid out of bed; it wasn’t like he was likely to get up first and make flapjacks.

  Ash was halfway to the door before he remembered that he’d hired a housekeeper, the intriguing Miss Murray. No, she’d given him permission to call her Molly, now, although he doubted that wisdom. It was probably safer to keep calling her ‘Miss Murray’, to keep some space between them. It might have been smarter, but for some reason he didn’t think with his brain around her. What other excuse did he have for inviting a virtual stranger into his home for the whole winter? Especially such an appealing stranger, who was bringing two more kids along, as well? It was possibly one of the stupidest decisions he’d made, and he couldn’t be happier about it.

  Thinking about Molly reminded him that she probably wouldn’t appreciate him barging into the main room wearing just a pair of long johns. At least his arm had healed enough for him to dress himself, though, and he struggled into a pair of jeans and pulled a shirt on. He could button it all the way up if he had to, but it was much easier to just leave the top few undone. Still, he was focused on the lower buttons when he padded barefoot into the main room.

  The first thing he noticed was the fire, cheerful and cozy in the hearth. He and Nate rarely lit a fire in the morning, until the coldest part of the season, making do with extra layers. They just didn’t have the inclination to set it, light it, and then bank it while they worked out in the barn during the day. But seeing it lit, spilling cheery light and delicious warmth through the room, reminded him of why he’d always liked the coldest part of the winter. It was special, the way a house and holding could wrap around a man, the snow itself cushioning him from the outside world, leaving him as an island of warmth and contentment.

  And the cause of that unexpected contentment was bustling around the kitchen, a long apron over her dressing gown, her hair in a loose braid down her back. It was curlier than he’d guessed, having only seen it up in a bun, and he was impressed she’d managed to contain it all. In fact, he was impressed by a lot of things when it came to Molly Murray, not least of which was how delicious she looked while fixing him flapjacks. She looked like she came straight from bed.

  Thinking about her in bed had kept him up late the night before. By the time they’d gotten the horses settled, and the mustangs run, and her trunks inside, it was late. She’d already straightened up the main room and the kitchen, and it looked nicer than it had since… well, probably since before Nate had moved in. He knew she must have been exhausted by her early morning and the cold ride, but she’d still attacked the mess with a wet towel, and even had a spot of dirt on her cheek. He just barely resisted the urge to wipe it off.

  The night before, they had a quiet supper of leftovers the hotel had sent along, and then took Molly up to the loft to inspect it. It was dustier than he’d remembered—it hadn’t really been used since they built Nate his own room years ago—but she said she’d set it to rights soon enough. Nate had managed to dig out the old bed Ash’d made for him when he’d first arrived; it was a shorter version than the full-sized bed the kid slept in now, and they’d stuck the old one up in the loft and forgot about it. It was too short for Molly, but assuming her sisters weren’t as tall as her, it might work for them. For now, he helped Nate pull the feather-ticking off the rope frame and lay it on the wooden floor for Molly, and dug out a bunch of quilts for her to use. She’d thanked them profusely, told them she’d be able to make do, and shooed them downstairs.

  He’d said
goodnight to her, and then lay there in bed thinking about her sleeping upstairs, wondering what he’d gotten himself in to. He couldn’t help but remember the way she’d cuddled up next to him on the sleigh, and how hard it’d been not to reach his arm around her to pull her closer. If his other arm hadn’t been in the sling, and had been able to hold the reins, he might have given in to the temptation. To keep her warm, of course.

  The woman was all kinds of temptation, with those big brown eyes, and deep dimples, and breasts—he’d tried not to stare when he’d seen her without the coat—that could keep a man busy for hours. She was big all over, and matched him perfectly. Having her here with him on the ranch, no ‘proper society’ to keep him in check, it was only a matter of time before he kissed her, to see how perfectly they did match.

  This morning, sitting down at the table and having her lay a plate of fresh flapjacks in front of him, he decided that he was pretty well pleased with himself for hiring her. And when she’d ladled some of the sugary syrup out of the warming pot onto his stack of ‘jacks, he just about crowed with pleasure. He was thinking he didn’t mind being pampered, and maybe he wouldn’t push his arm to heal all that fast.

  The sun wasn’t even up behind the cabin when Nate peeked out of his bedroom, his suspicious gaze easing into a smile when he saw it was Molly making breakfast. He’d taken the time to pull on his boots before coming out, but was still buttoning up his shirt. That fact didn’t seem to faze Molly; but when Ash had walked into the room, her eyes fixed on the dark curls peaking from beneath the flannel, and her blush had been fierce. It made him warm, to catch her staring at him.

  She joined them for breakfast, after he’d insisted, and they talked about plans for the day. She was hoping to have time to straighten the loft for her and her sisters, and he told her to just go ahead and do that first. He’d been a bit embarrassed by its state yesterday, and would be happier if he knew she had a decent place of her own. He promised to send Nate up with some nails and a small rope, to stretch across the front, so she could hang up some quilts for privacy. She thanked Ash with a smile, and he discovered that he’d happily do chores to make her smile again.