Where was Wil? Any moment, he would appear out of thin air and ruin her life forever. She wished he’d just get the horrible task over with.
Chapter Fifty-Five
“I wish ya two youn’uns would go to the Christmas shindig afore the party’s over,” Violet complained as she sat next to the fire, a quilt over her lap and a cup of tea on the nearby table. “Ya make me fidgety thinkin’ of all the fun you’re missin’ because of little ol’ me.”
She admired the small fir tree Tommy had brought in just before nightfall. He and Beth had strung a few strands of popcorn, dried raisins, and red berries from outside. The strands draped haphazardly from branch to branch, looking prettier than anything she’d ever seen.
Tannenbaum—the only German word Violet knew, taught to her by her dear pappy when she was no more than a tadpole. His memory still brought a wedge of sadness to her heart. Seemed like yesterday—or a million years—since those days. “Go on and get gussied up! Ya’ll be sorry tomorrow if ya don’t.”
“I’m not going anywhere, Ma.” Tommy closed the book in his lap and set the volume beside him. “I’m content to sit here for a year or two before I move for anything. God answered my prayers keeping you alive until my return. There’s no other place I’d rather be.”
So much about her son was familiar, and at times, so much was new and strange. He’d aged quite a bit since he’d taken leave of them those years ago, but she had to admit he still cut a fine figure of a man—with many fruitful years left to live. No stooped shoulders on him. Or shaky hands. They were still steady and his shoulders as wide and straight as they’d ever been. Pride filled her feeble chest with love. Oh, how she adored him. Just the sound of his voice brought a song to her heart.
And she wasn’t the only one who’d noticed Tommy’s fine attributes. Beth, as much as she liked to act wronged and righteous, was just so amusing. Violet would never let on she knew, but the girl was as smitten with him now as she’d been when she was a girl. Some loves were meant to be—as this one was. Violet was thankful the two would get a second chance to get their story right. As well, the heavy burden of guilt Violet felt from her son’s actions was lifted from her frail shoulders. Since the day Tommy ran off, breaking Beth’s heart, she’d carried the culpability even though she hadn’t been the one at fault. As long as Beth didn’t hang on to her well-justified pride, Violet felt down deep in her bones they would find their way back to each other. They could have many wonderful years together.
Beth came into the room, her hair recently combed and styled in a nice, neat bun at the nape of her slim neck. Violet could tell she was ill at ease, still wearing borrowed clothes. Maybe she believed once she left for her belongings, she wasn’t welcome to return.
“Beth, honey, are you still wearin’ Jessie’s borrowed dress? Tommy’ll fetch yer other belongings back if ya ask him. Ain’t been the same around here since ya moved out.”
Beth, who was drying a mixing bowl, frowned.
She’d done more work around the inn in the last few days than the two years since she’d arrived. No bother. The closer to Tommy the better, Violet figured, to get the courtship moving properly. Violet was working on borrowed time.
“I won’t ask such a task, Violet. The weather’s still so cold. Win can help me after Christmas, when the temperature warms up a little.”
“Oh, phooey! Not so cold others haven’t ventured ta town. Still got yer key to the mercantile?”
“Of course.”
“Then why don’t the two of ya take a moonlight walk and fetch back a few of yer belongings, garments, and doohickeys? Ya won’t freeze ta death iffin ya walk fast. I want a little peace and quiet. Ya’ve been bangin’ in the kitchen for hours trying ta raise the dead.” She shook her head, keeping her gaze far away from Tommy.
“I’ll be happy to help, Beth,” he offered. “If you’d like to get some of your possessions now, to make your stay easier, I’m glad to oblige.”
Beth’s face grew as red as mulled wine.
The deepness of his voice touched Violet. She wanted to chortle but knew such an outburst just might wreck everything.
Beth tapped her lips. “Well, maybe we—”
“’Course ya can! Now, bundle up. Take two lanterns so ya don’t lose yer way.”
Beth snapped straight. “I’ve traveled this way a hundred times in the dark, Violet, no need to be so boss—” She clamped her mouth closed.
As if she hadn’t heard a thing, Violet averted her eyes to heaven. Breaking her daughter-in-law-to-be of all her bad habits would be a delight.
Chapter Fifty-Six
Dalton waltzed Adaline around the dance floor holding her at a respectable distance. She felt perfect in his arms, like he’d imagined she would. She was so beautiful, not staring was difficult. Still, uneasiness stirred inside. She was preoccupied. Sidetracked, perhaps even uninterested. Maybe he’d been wrong about her feelings. Or had he waited too long to make his move?
When Adaline had apologized for her words of love the night baby Ying was born, agreeing with him the tense situation at hand had made her speak out, he hadn’t taken her at her word. He sneaked a glance at her scanning the watching crowd, and unease pushed at his chest. After his conversation with Jake earlier this evening and receiving his friend’s wholehearted blessing to court his sister, Dalton hadn’t wasted any time finding her and asking her to dance.
But she’d declined with a ridiculous excuse about remaining by Courtney’s side; something about watching the gift table to be sure no child peeked inside the presents. Then later, he’d practically had to pry her away from Courtney. Since then she’d been quiet, distracted, and hadn’t shared her special smile with him even once.
The music slowed and ended.
“Thank you, Adaline.” How mundane, but he couldn’t think of one romantic word to say. His heart was in his boots. How had he gotten everything so wrong? She hadn’t even heard him.
She jerked her gaze back to his face. “I’m sorry, Dalton, did you say something?”
Did you say something? Had she met someone new? Were there any recent arrivals in Logan Meadows? Nothing tonight felt right. “Yes, I thanked you for the dance. And all the dances we’ve shared. Are you tired? Would you like to sit down?” Or dance this one with someone else? He sounded like a whipped dog.
She smiled, but the expression didn’t reach her eyes.
She was being kind to him. Letting him down easy.
“You’re welcome. And no, I’m not tired. If you want to keep dancing, I’m game.”
The musicians had started again, this time without Gabe, who was dancing with Julia.
Her tone held no conviction. He didn’t want to force her against her will. “That’s all right. I’ll be polite and give the other fellas a chance to ask you themselves. Keeping the prettiest girl all to myself isn’t very gallant.”
Adaline was looking up at the balcony.
She hadn’t heard a word he’d said. With a hand to her back, he escorted her over to some chairs where a few others sat. “I’ll go fetch you a cup of punch and be right back.” He didn’t wait for her reply because he felt one wouldn’t come.
Dalton moved toward the punch table in a fog. Couples danced around the room, enjoying themselves. Excited children darted between the shadows. Everyone was having a good time except him—and presumably Adaline.
Courtney stood by the dessert table where she’d been most of the night since the dancing had started.
He’d made a conscious effort to stay aware of where she went—with an eye out for Wil. At the moment, Mr. Hutton, the teacher, and Brenna, his wife, were with her. Tyler sat in a chair by the fire, brooding over something. Dalton was surprised. He’d have thought Tyler would be dancing with some of the pretty girls. Dances didn’t come often. Could Tyler be the one Adaline was pining for? The two were much closer in age than Dalton was with her. Feeling more miserable by the second, Dalton ladled out two
glasses of punch, wishing for something stronger—like a straight shot of whiskey.
“Dalton!”
Frank Lloyd headed his way in his dapper slacks, wool coat, and a black string tie circling his starched white collar. He was the picture of prosperity.
“Time’s come to announce the winner of the Christmas competition. The evening is getting late, and soon folks will want to head over to the church for the Christmas Eve service.”
Dalton felt the steely gaze of others closely watching to see if Frank was making one last effort to sway his vote. What could he say? He hadn’t really made a decision yet. Some judge he’d turned out to be. “Sure, Frank. Where do you want me to do this?”
“On the stage. Musicians are on a break, and Winthrop is ready in the Santa suit to hand out gifts as soon as you’ve finished.” He smiled and grasped Dalton’s shoulder in a friendly gesture.
“Let me take Adaline her punch and then I’ll get right to it.” In the face of Adaline’s indifference, his Christmas spirit had disappeared. He found her in a small group of women, Courtney so close to her side he wondered if something was wrong. “Adaline.”
Surprised, she turned, and then smiled when she saw who stood behind her. She tipped her head in question.
“Your punch.” He held out the glass, feeling like a squashed ant. She hadn’t even remembered he’d gone to get her something to drink.
“Thank you.” She glanced at the cup and then up into his face. “I guess I am a bit parched.”
Nothing was left to say. At least, he couldn’t think of anything. “You have fun. I’m off to announce the winner.”
“So, you’ve decided?”
Not really, but what does that matter? “Of course, I have. What kind of judge leaves the decision to the last second?” He nodded and turned to go but was stopped by a touch on his arm.
“Thank you again for the dances, Dalton. I enjoyed them.”
Her tone sounded authentic, and maybe a spark of warmth shone in her gaze. Or then again, maybe his hope was working overtime. “You’re welcome, Adaline. Merry Christmas.”
Folks nodded his way as he stepped onto the stage. He forced a smile and glanced around. All the eager faces. Goodhearted people who’d waited all year for this one moment. He’d dash the spirits of a handful for the jubilation of one. Didn’t feel right, but he should have thought of that outcome before accepting the position.
Maude Miller edged through the crowd, coming closer to the stage, most certainly so she could hear. Mr. and Mrs. Harrell stood close to Frank, the three of them chatting amiably, but with an eye on Dalton. Lettie, from the bakery, looked so different in her Christmas clothes he hardly recognized her. He couldn’t ever recall seeing her anywhere but behind her counter with a dash of flour across her forehead. Abner Wesserman, of the telegraph office, had actually brought the elf from his display and carried the cornstalk gnome in his arms like a doll.
So many people counting on his words. The feeling was daunting.
Mr. Hatfield, the depot manager, waited on the periphery of the multitude.
Close by stood Kendall Martin and Hunter Wade, both with arms crossed over their chests and narrowed eyes, as if they knew already Dalton wouldn’t award a family-friendly prize to an adult-driven enterprise such as a saloon—and they’d be right.
He cleared his throat. Seemed Wil Lemon had thought better of making some sort of stupid play for Courtney tonight and was still hiding out, or perhaps he’d gone.
“Quit stalling, Deputy Babcock!”
The comment was called out in good humor by none other than Albert. Enough light still remained in the shadowy room to see the sheriff was goading him good-naturedly. “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen of Logan Meadows,” Dalton greeted. “The time has arrived to announce the winner of this year’s Christmas competition. Let me say one more time, I’m touched by your acceptance of me. I’ve felt a valued member of this community since arriving those months ago on the ill-fated train crash at Three Pines Turn. And so…”
“Quit stalling!”
Yes, he was rambling. He held up a hand. “We’ll get there. But first, let me say, everyone’s displays were unique in their own way and exuded the Christmas spirit. Maude’s Mercantile’s, the El Dorado Hotel’s, and the Silky Hen’s displays are something to rival a shop in Miles City, Cheyenne, Denver, or another large metropolitan area. Good job, all three of you.” That seemed enough praise to have Maude, the manager of the El Dorado, and Hannah and Thom preening and puffing their chests. “Hunter and Kendall, you know I love the saloon as much as any man, but I can only take so much female attention.”
The men laughed, and more than a few women peaked a brow.
“But thank you all the same for the free coffee.”
Adaline’s startled gaze gave Dalton a moment of hope. Choose the display that means something to you. One that touches your heart. Adaline’s words filtered through his mind, and a peace descended on his shoulders.
“Lettie and Abner, job well done. I liked both of yours as well as the school’s.” He swallowed. Two left which had moved him. He glanced at an expectant Frank Lloyd and equally eager Mr. Hatfield. The moment had come, and he couldn’t delay any longer. “The last two displays almost tied, but I know only one can win. I can’t tell you how much I’ve enjoyed studying Frank’s small replica of Logan Meadows. For a multitude of reasons, of course, the buildings are very finely made, colorful, and quaint, but the feeling the image evokes is what’s the most endearing. Because of how much everyone in town have come to mean to me.”
Everyone was listening intently.
Dalton wondered if they could hear the beating of his heart. “I think Frank should leave his display up all year long.”
“That said, I award this year’s Christmas competition first prize to Mr. Hatfield and his display of the miniature train circling the Christmas tree. Without the Union Pacific wreck at Three Pines Turn, chances are I’d never have met any of you. We would have stopped at the depot, taken on water, and continued on our way as planned. As horrible as the crash was, it changed many lives, mine included.” He searched out Adaline, who seemed to hang on each and every word out of his mouth. “I hope to make Logan Meadows my home. But only time will tell if that dream becomes a reality. Congratulations, Mr. Hatfield!”
Thunderous applause echoed around the room. None of the losers looked any less excited than Mr. Hatfield himself. Truly, the spirit of Christmas was well and alive in Logan Meadows.
Albert stepped forward, pushing his hands at the crowd for silence. “Thank you to Deputy Babcock for his thoughtful consideration in this year’s competition.” He gave Dalton an approving nod. “Santa will hand out these gifts before we have the final waltz of the night so those interested will have time to head over to the church service.”
With the huge weight gone from his shoulders, Dalton breathed out and stepped off the stage. Folks reached out and shook his hand. Many complimented him on his fine speech and eloquent manner. All he’d done was speak the truth.
With shouts of joy, the children rushed forward, and Winthrop did his best not to get trampled as he dished out the goods.
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Courtney finally allowed herself to breathe a tad bit easier. Wil hadn’t showed. Hadn’t been seen for a week, since the day he and Tyler had fought in the Silky Hen. The possibility was good he’d left town. Jake and the others had hunted but turned up emptyhanded. Where was he? What was he thinking? Maybe, in the spirit of Christmas, he’d decided to leave her alone. Was there a possibility she wouldn’t shame her family after all?
With the children’s gifts passed out, Gabe and the other musicians mounted the stage. One final waltz and they’d all head over to the quaint little church on the hill.
The shrill sound of a hard object tapping on glass made everyone stop and look toward the balcony.
Wil! Staring down at her. He was ragged and wet, dirt
and grime covering his clothing. He looked as if he’d been living in a ditch for the last week. A scraggly black beard covered his jaw but did little to hide the animosity gleaming from his eyes. Revenge had changed him into an animal.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” he slurred. “All good things must come to an end, as they say—although I never understood who ‘they’ are.” He laughed mirthlessly at his own joke.
Dalton and Tyler, both close to the stairway, bolted up but when Wil swung around and pointed his gun at their chests they halted halfway. He swayed, unsteady on his feet.
Fear spiked through Courtney for the safety of her friends and children in the room.
A few feet away, Jake bit out a curse, his anger palpable.
“No need for bloodshed on Christmas Eve. Get back where you belong,” Wil commanded.
Both men stayed exactly where they’d stopped.
Wil’s eyes narrowed.
Courtney had no doubt he’d shoot them in cold blood. “Please, Dalton and Tyler, give Wil some room,” she called, finding her voice. In a daze, she stepped onto the dance floor with everyone’s gaze watching in fear.
Adaline pushed her way through the people and rushed to Courtney’s side. She grasped her arm and tried to pull her away.
Courtney smiled into her sister’s eyes. “I’m sorry, Adaline. If I don’t have my say, I’ll never be free.” She looked up at Wil and then into the faces of everyone watching.
“You come to your senses, darlin’?” Wil stage whispered, loud enough for everyone to hear. “You missing me as much as I’m missing you?” He lifted a flask and took a long pull.
She’d need to hurry before Wil beat her to the punch. Straightening her back, she fortified her courage. “Wil Lemon was my beau when I lived in Newport. Since he came to Logan Meadows, he’s been blackmailing me. Threatening to expose our private relationship.”
Nervous whispers drifted around the room.
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