Читать книгу A Western Christmas: Yuletide Lawman / Yuletide Reunion - Renee Ryan, Louise M. Gouge - Страница 11

Chapter Two

Caleb studied Ellie’s face, trying to read her reaction to his acceptance of her father’s invitation. Her expression was wide-eyed, slightly flustered and utterly adorable.

An uncomfortable sensation moved through him, the kind reserved for a boy conversing with a girl for the first time.

This is Ellie, he reminded himself. He wasn’t supposed to feel uncomfortable around her. Nor was he supposed to be this aware of her.

Yet the sensation persisted, digging deeper, causing his breath to hitch and his mind to empty of all coherent thought.

What were they discussing again?

Mildly amused at himself, he felt a laugh bubble inside his chest. When was the last time he’d laughed?

He couldn’t remember. A sad commentary on the current condition of his life. Even with help, raising twin daughters was hard work. But also the best part of his day. When he wasn’t at the jail, he put all his focus on caring for his daughters. That left little time for much else. He hoped that would change once he got married again.

“Anyway, that’s all I came to say.” The tentative smile that accompanied Ellie’s words reached inside Caleb’s chest, grabbed hold of his heart and squeezed hard. “I guess I’ll see you at church on Sunday.”

Staring into those big, expressive eyes, everything in him softened. “Yes, Ellie, you will see me there. Perhaps even before then.”

“Sounds lovely.” Her smile wavered ever-so-slightly. “Well, um, bye.”

“Bye, now.”

He watched her walk back the way she came. She looked left, then right, then hurried across the street. Twice, she slowed her pace and glanced at him over her shoulder, her lower lip caught between her teeth. Both times, when their gazes met and melded, Caleb felt an unexpected ping in the pit of his stomach.

There were logical reasons for his physical reaction to the girl—no, scratch that, not a girl. A woman. Ellie Wainwright was a full-grown, beautiful woman. She was also his friend’s treasured little sister and the daughter of the man Caleb considered a second father. That made her family, the sister he never had.

Except...

After their unusual, albeit brief interchanges this morning, Caleb wasn’t feeling very brotherly toward her.

He lifted his hand in a responding wave to match the one Ellie tossed at him.

His lips curved in a genuine smile.

Ellie was a reminder of everything good in his past, the quintessential example of the stability he craved for his girls.

Stopping yet again, this time at the door leading into the dress shop, she gave him one last glance over her shoulder before disappearing into the building.

Ping.

Caleb swallowed. He swallowed again. And one more time for good measure.

Taking advantage of his inattention, Gideon rooted around for more treats, searching Caleb’s coat pockets with a warm, nuzzling nose.

Giving in to the none-too-subtle demand, he fed the horse another carrot. “What,” he asked in a strained voice to the tune of the animal’s munching, “just happened?”

Gideon had no answer.

Neither did Caleb.

At the moment, he didn’t know much of anything, except that he was wasting valuable time staring at a closed door.

Banishing Ellie Wainwright from his mind, he gave Gideon one last pat then entered the jailhouse. With efficient movements, he divested himself of hat, gloves and long coat before turning his gaze onto his deputy.

Feet propped up on the lone desk in the room, Prescott Kramer eyed him with the affable nonchalance that defined him. “Morning, Sheriff.”

Caleb nodded. “Deputy.”

Younger than Caleb by five years, Prescott was nearly his same height, a full inch over six feet, but broader in the shoulders and back. His eyes were a startling pale blue and he sported a head of thick, jet-black hair. The combination seemed to make the man popular with the ladies.

No arguing that women liked Prescott and Prescott liked women. That didn’t mean he wasn’t a fine lawman. He had lightning-quick reflexes and a calm head in tough situations. Caleb had hired him eighteen months ago and had yet to regret the decision.

Flashing a row of perfectly aligned, sparkling white teeth, the deputy slowly rose to his feet and ambled over to the coffeepot sitting atop the potbellied stove. He filled two tin cups with the thick brew they both preferred, kept one for himself and then handed the other to Caleb.

Chilled from his time outdoors, Caleb took a grateful sip of the steaming liquid. “Any problems arise overnight I need to know about?”

“Nope.” Prescott shook his head. “All quiet. Took the opportunity to read.”

Caleb nodded again. The one pursuit Prescott loved nearly as much as getting to know a new woman in town was reading a good novel. “Glad to hear you spent your time productively.”

Prescott could have taken a short nap last night and it wouldn’t have mattered much. Although Thunder Ridge was a regular stop on the Union Pacific rail line, with its no-saloon ordinance and a strong Christian presence, it was also a peaceful community.

Not that there weren’t concerns that arose on occasion.

Caleb and Prescott dealt with random cases of vandalism, scuttles that came from high tempers and, of course, the occasional dispute over property lines. But the jail cells remained mostly empty. And now that Caleb’s brothers were scattered all over the West, there was even less trouble in town.

Most days, his job was boring, exactly the way he liked it. He’d had enough chaos for one lifetime, first from his unpredictable childhood and then from his volatile marriage.

“Want me to take the ride through town this morning?” Prescott asked, referring to their daily routine check-in with the local businesses.

“I’ll do it.” Caleb had already performed an initial inspection of the outlying ranches before coming in to work. Once he rode through town and spoke with the shopkeepers individually, he’d take Gideon to the livery for a much needed brushing and rest. “You can go on home, Pres.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice.” The deputy drained his coffee then set down his empty cup next to the stove.

With more enthusiasm than usual, he shoved his arms in his coat then jammed his hat on his head. Instead of heading out, he paused at the doorway. “Hey, Sheriff, got a question I’ve been meaning to ask you for a while now.”

That sounded ominous. “Okay, shoot.”

“Just how well do you know Ellie Wainwright?” A speculative gleam shone in the deputy’s eyes. “Well enough, say, to make an introduction?”

Caleb’s blood ran cold at the obvious masculine interest in the question. Prescott was nothing if not predictable. In truth, Caleb wasn’t all that surprised by the deputy’s inquiry, only that it had taken the man an entire two weeks to ferret out information about Ellie Wainwright.

Still.

“Don’t go getting any ideas.” A burst of temper spiked his tone to a near guttural growl. “Ellie’s off-limits.”

The warning only seemed to stir the man’s interest further. “Why? Somebody already courting her?”

Not if Caleb had anything to say about it. “She’s not available for an introduction and that’s the end of it.”

“You sure about that?” Prescott scratched a hand across his jaw, his eyes taking on a thoughtful light. “I haven’t seen her with any man since she came home.”

True. Nevertheless...

Caleb wasn’t introducing Ellie to Prescott. Or, for that matter, any other unmarried man in town.

He told himself he was acting on Everett’s behalf. He owed it to his friend to keep an eye on the man’s little sister while he was in prison. This wasn’t personal. It was simply the right thing to do.

Keep telling yourself that, cowboy.

“You can’t meet Ellie.”

“Why not?”

Caleb ground his teeth together so hard his jaw ached. “She’s a churchgoing woman with a strong set of Christian values and impeccable integrity.”

Prescott’s eyes narrowed to tiny slits. “You implying I’m not good enough for her?”

That about covered it. “No one’s good enough for Ellie.”

Now Prescott smiled, a big toothy grin that set Caleb’s teeth on edge. Clearly he wasn’t getting through to the hardheaded deputy.

He changed tactics. “She’s too young for you.”

Which, to be fair, sounded as irrational in his head as it did out loud, especially since Ellie and Prescott were the same age, give or take a few months.

“Ah, I get it.” The other man let out a low, amused whistle. “You got your eye on the preacher’s daughter.”

“I don’t have my eye on Ellie.” That would be wrong on so many levels.

Although...

Now that Caleb worked the idea around in his head...

Ellie was sweet and warm, caring, and excellent with children. She was the kind of woman a man made promises to, the kind of woman a man cherished and—

He cut off the rest of his thoughts.

Even if Ellie wasn’t Everett’s little sister, she deserved far more than Caleb had to offer a woman.

Yes, he needed a wife. And, yes, Ellie was available, or so he assumed, but approaching her with the idea of marriage seemed inappropriate because of his history with her family.

Best to look elsewhere for his future bride, or at least wait a little longer for Mrs. Jenson to find her for him.

As if to contradict his decision, an image of his daughters crystallized in his mind. They deserved a good, loving mother, a sweet and warm, caring woman who would provide them with a calm, stable home life.

With few available women left in town that he hadn’t already approached, and less than a month before Christmas, Caleb was getting desperate to find the twins a mother. So desperate, in fact, that he’d even agreed to let Mrs. Jenson contact potential mail-order brides from other parts of the country.

Now, he wondered if he’d been too hasty with his acquiescence on the matter. Perhaps his future wife was closer to home. Perhaps she was already in Thunder Ridge.

Perhaps she was right across the street.

* * *

Ellie reentered Kate’s shop with a pounding heart and an annoying case of trepidation. Considering her rapid exit, and her subsequent conversation with Caleb out in plain sight, her friend would surely want to know what they’d said to each other. And why she’d approached him this morning, instead of waiting until after her meeting with Kate.

How was Ellie supposed to explain something she didn’t fully understand herself?

Her discussion with Caleb had been brief, not much more than a question asked and an answer given. Yet, because of the long looks and inexplicable tension between them, Ellie wasn’t sure what to think.

What came next?

Mulling over the question, she stood just inside the store’s threshold, unable to move deeper into the room because she needed every scrap of energy to process the past few minutes she’d spent in Caleb’s company.

Kate’s eyebrows lifted in silent question, clearly waiting for an explanation.

Ellie pretended not to notice.

“Fine.” Kate held up in her hands in a show of mock surrender. “I won’t ask. Never let it be said that Kate Riley doesn’t know how to mind her own business.”

Ellie felt her mouth drop open. “Since when?”

“Ha-ha.” Her friend sniffed in feminine outrage. “I’ll have you know, you’re looking at the new and improved version of me. I no longer stick my nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“Uh-huh,” Ellie hummed in response.

“Now that you’re back inside,” Kate continued as if she hadn’t responded, “shall we get started?”

“Absolutely.” Taking several steps forward, Ellie dug inside the medium-sized reticule hanging from her wrist and pulled out the script for the Christmas play her father had insisted she direct this year.

She figured he’d assigned her the task with the express purpose of giving her something to do with her days, and to keep her mind off her troubles. As he was so often fond of saying, “Nothing helps redirect our gloomy thoughts better than focusing on others.”

It was good advice that Ellie intended to act upon from this point forward. No more feeling sorry for herself. No more wondering what might have been. “I have some initial ideas for the costumes.”

“As do I.”

A jolt of fear moved through her. With just over three weeks until Christmas, Ellie wasn’t sure she could pull off the production to her father’s satisfaction. Or her own.

Lowering her head, she exhaled a small, soulful sigh of remorse. “Last night’s rehearsal was a complete disaster.”

“Don’t you think you’re being a bit dramatic?” A pair of smart-looking, female, lace-up boots moved directly into her line of vision. “It’s a children’s play, Ellie, one you’ve directed many times in the past.”

Well, yes.

But that had been years ago, before she’d left for the teaching job in Colorado Springs.

Releasing another sigh, Ellie lifted her head. “Oh, Kate, I have exactly twenty-three days to put together a Christmas production that will make Thunder Ridge proud and I’m already off to a miserable start.”

“I was there last night. It wasn’t that horrible.”

Were they talking about the same event? “The children ignored me completely.”

One well-defined black eyebrow shot up in obvious skepticism.

Point taken. “All right, they didn’t ignore me completely.”

It had only felt that way.

Her inability to command a room full of rambunctious boys and girls was disturbingly new. Ellie used to be good with children, a requirement of any schoolteacher. But her confidence had vanished ever since she’d lost her job, which had been right after Monroe had withdrawn his marriage proposal because Ellie had told him about her brother’s incarceration.

“What if I lose control again tonight?” There. She’d voiced her fear aloud.

Instead of gaining sympathy, the comment seemed to make her friend’s smile widen. “Weren’t you the one who once told me first rehearsals are always disasters?”

“I’m pretty sure I never said any such thing.” This year.

Kate laughed. “Well, no matter what happens Christmas Eve, at least you can comfort yourself in the knowledge that the costumes will be spectacular.”

Her friend punctuated the remark with a wink.

Finally, Ellie smiled, as well. Kate was her assistant, her costume designer and the reason for this early morning visit to the dress shop her friend had inherited from her grandmother.

“Ellie.” Kate took her hands. “You aren’t alone in this. I’m right in the middle of the muddled fray with you.”

It was exactly what she needed to hear.

“You and me,” Kate said, winking again, “working side by side on the play, why, it’ll be just like old times.”

Just like old times.

Nearly the same words she’d spoken to Caleb moments earlier. They’d seemed appropriate at the time, but now Ellie felt foolish having uttered them.

Things could never be as they once were; too much time had passed. But maybe, just maybe, that wasn’t such a bad thing.