A Very Decker Christmas

 

The Chance City Series, Book Seven

 

 

Robin Deeter

 

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Dedication

 

To Essie, my rock and best friend. Thank you for being the most incredible person I know and for your constant love and support. You put up with a lot of late nights and my insanity during the writing of this book and I appreciate it more than I could ever say.

 

A Very Decker Christmas really belongs to all my readers, especially the members of my Facebook reader group, Deeter’s Readers. You all gave me an extra push and encouraged me to keep going during a challenging time in my life. I’m nothing without my readers and you guys are the best! Many thanks for your loyalty and friendship.

Special Thanks

 

Sending out a special thank you to Margaret Vickers, who allowed me to create a cameo for her in this book. She is a gem and I’m truly honored to call her my friend.

 

I’d also like to thank my fantastic friend, Christy Stetson, who helped keep me sane while I wrote this book by providing never-ending support, business advice and making me laugh when I needed it. I’m so blessed to have you in my life, Christy.

 

 

Other books by Robin Deeter

 

 

Chance City Beginnings

(Prequels to Chance City Series)

 

Part One

Part Two

 

Chance City Series

 

Mail Order Mystery

Mail Order Mystery Audio Book

Mail Order Mystery Print Book

On the Fence

Crossroads

Gray Justice

When the Thunder Rolls

And the Lightning Strikes

A Very Decker Christmas

 

 

The Paha Sapa Saga

 

Sacrifice and Reward

Sacrifice and Reward Audio Book

Sacrifice and Reward Print Book

Winter Moon

The Bear, Part One

The Bear, Part Two

The Phantom Horse Bridge Series

 

Phantom Origins Book 0

Phantom Heat

 

Wolf Junction Series

 

Silver Bell Shifter

 

 

 

Table of Contents

Dedication

Special Thanks

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Epilogue

About the Author

Chapter One

 

“Is there a Mr. Johnny Decker here?”

Johnny stood on the crowded platform at the Chance City, Oklahoma train station. He searched for the source of the voice calling his name.

“Mr. Johnny Decker?”

It came from the train conductor, who stood on the steps of the nearest passenger car. Johnny threaded his way through the throng of people and reached the conductor. “I’m Johnny Decker.”

“This is for you.”

A sense of foreboding overcame Johnny as he accepted the letter from the older, gray-haired man. Not again. “She ain’t comin’, is she?”

The conductor’s craggy face settled into somber lines. “I’m afraid not, sir.”

Johnny’s best friend, Ray Stratton, appeared beside him. “What’s wrong?”

Fury clogged Johnny’s throat, preventing him from responding. He crushed the envelope and threw it to the ground before striding away from the train. In his rush to get away, he bumped into a few people, drawing angry glances and a couple of complaints, but he didn’t notice, blind to everything in his anger.

Ray snatched up the letter and opened it. Sympathy for Johnny flooded his heart as he read it. The woman coming to marry Johnny had fallen in love with someone along the way to Chance City. It was the second time Johnny had been stood up by a mail order bride. The first was back in April. Thanksgiving was only a week away now. 1898 sure hadn’t been Johnny’s year.

Stuffing the letter in a trouser pocket, Ray ran after Johnny, catching up to him at the wagon Johnny had built a couple of months ago. He’d wanted to impress Miss Melody Brighton with the fine conveyance. The seat employed a spring system and was equipped with a thick red upholstered cushion that made traveling comfortable.

Johnny jumped onto the seat, took up the reins, and slapped them against his horses’ rumps. They leapt into action, forcing Ray to jog along for a moment before hauling himself onto the wagon.

“I read the letter, Johnny,” Ray said, settling on the seat. “I’m sorry.”

Johnny’s eyes flashed blue fire at Ray. “Two years, Ray! Two years I been lookin’ for a wife.”

“I know.”

Guiding the horses away from the train station, Johnny snorted. “Well, I’m done lookin’. I’m gonna be like Cotton and just sleep with whatever woman I want to. No strings, no commitment.”

“That’s just crazy talk, Johnny.”

Johnny glanced at him, hating the compassion in Ray’s gray eyes. “Don’t look at me like that. I don’t wanna be pitied and I don’t wanna be made a fool of ever again. Two mail order brides ain’t held up their end of the bargain!” He shook his head. “I don’t understand it. It was so easy for Cy.”

His cousin, Cyrus Decker’s wife, Leigh, had been a mail order bride and it hadn’t taken long for the couple to fall in love after they’d been married. Cy’s success had inspired Johnny to find a mail order bride of his own.

“Not only that, the first woman I ever liked left town before I could even begin to court her. Nothing’s worked out with any of the women I have courted.” He plowed a hand through his carefully combed wheat-blond hair, making it revert to its usual unruly state. “What’s so wrong with me? People say I’m kinda nice to look at. I got a good business, a damn nice house, and money in the bank. None of that seems to matter, though.”

Ray mulled over what he could say to make Johnny feel better. Then with his usual candidness, he said, “I think you’re trying too hard.”

That made Johnny even angrier. “I swear if you tell me to be patient, I’ll slug you.”

Ray held a hand up in surrender. “Okay.”

Johnny grew even more miserable as dread over telling his family what had happened stole over him. Johnny sighed at the unfairness of it. All around him, people were getting married and beginning families. Even Sly and Daniel Lone Wolf, his other cousins, who’d been hellions, had married and had kids. Normally, thinking about all the children to whom he’d essentially become uncle would’ve made him smile, but right at that moment, jealousy and disappointment almost consumed him.

He looked at Ray, who glanced at City Hall as they passed it. His wife, Carly, was the mayor and would be in her office at that time of morning. It still amazed Johnny that Ray, a former prostitute, had snared such a high-ranking member of society. Carly and Ray were expecting for the third time, but she wasn’t far along yet.

“I’ve been more patient than a saint. I thought women wanted security, to be provided for. I can do that and then some,” Johnny asserted.

“I know, but I just think you’re rushing these women sometimes,” Ray said.

“Like you didn’t rush Carly.”

Ray grinned. “That was a completely different circumstance. She knew exactly what she was getting. She knew what I was and—”

“Wanted you anyway,” Johnny interjected. “I’m a decent, respectful fella. Doesn’t seem like women want that much anymore. They want danger and excitement.” He gave Ray a baleful look. “They want guys like you or Daniel or Sly.”

“That’s not true. Cy and Brock are good guys,” Ray said.

“Yeah, but they’re lawmen. Danger and excitement there, too.”

Ray thought for a moment. “Wheels is a really decent fella.”

Johnny couldn’t refute that. His other best friend was one of the most upstanding men he knew, and everyone loved him. Wheels was paralyzed, but he hadn’t let that stop him from doing much and people admired his fortitude and ingenuity. If a paralyzed guy can find a wife, why can’t I? Johnny instantly berated himself for his pettiness.

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” Johnny said as he stopped the wagon in front of Ray’s Bakery.

“You gonna be all right?” Ray asked.

Johnny shrugged.

Ray smiled a little. “What’s that thing that Wheels is always saying? It could always be worse? Well, it could be. Take some time, lick your wounds, and try again.”

“Get out of my wagon, Ray.”

Ray lifted an eyebrow at Johnny’s glare and harsh tone of voice but jumped down. “Call me when you’re not so pissed off.”

Johnny gave a brief nod and clicked to the horses. As they started moving, he contemplated going home and informing his family that he’d been stood up again. His stomach roiled at the prospect of enduring their pitying looks and attempts to comfort him. He just wanted to be let alone.

One corner of his mouth lifted the next moment. There was one place he could go where he wouldn’t have to talk about it. He tugged his tie loose, stuffed it in the jacket pocket of his nice dark blue pinstriped suit, and undid his collar. What was the point of staying dressed up now that he had no one to impress?

His mood blacker than he could ever remember, Johnny urged the team into a fast trot, anxious to get out of town.

 

 

Cotton Lone Wolf was skinning a small buck outside his tipi when Johnny arrived. Since he knew about Johnny’s plans for that day, Cotton was surprised to see him. Resting back on his haunches, he just gave his nephew a questioning look.

Johnny took a seat on one of the large logs that formed a circle around the firepit. “She ain’t comin’.”

Cotton sighed in sympathy, shook his head, and got up. He washed his hands in a bucket of water and ducked into his tipi. A moment later, he returned with two tin cups and a bottle of whiskey. He half-filled the cups and handed one to Johnny.

“Thanks.” He took a gulp and winced as it burned its way to his stomach. “It’s kinda early to be drinkin’, but I don’t give a shit.”

Cotton downed a swallow and sat his cup near him. “I don’t, either.”

A glimmer of a smile crossed Johnny’s face. Breathing in the scents of damp earth, grass, and various plants, Johnny tried to calm his turbulent emotions. He followed the flight path of a couple of crows, and it seemed like the last vestiges of his hope for happiness rode away on their wings.

“I think you got the right idea about women, Cotton. I don’t know why I bother. I just end up disappointed. I reckon love ain’t in the cards for me.”

“The woman you seek will come.”

“Be patient, right?” Johnny scoffed.

“Yes.”

“I’m tired of being patient.”

Cotton grunted. “No one ever said being patient was easy.”

“It’s easy for everyone to keep sayin’ to be patient when they’re all so happy. They have families and kids and all I got is an empty house to rattle around in. Lot of good building it did me,” Johnny said.

Cotton’s lips twitched. “It is not so empty right now.”

Johnny smiled. “No, it ain’t. Mr. and Mrs. Hawthorne sure like it. Maybe I oughta sell it to them.”

Leigh’s parents had arrived from South Carolina last month to be present for the birth of their third grandchild and to get to know Cy and his family. They were staying in Johnny’s three-bedroom house since there was plenty of room. He’d built it with the intention of filling it with kids.

“I don’t wanna go home, Cotton. I don’t want the women fawnin’ all over me and I don’t wanna hear Cy and Brock tell me to hang in there. I just wanna stay here and get drunk and forget,” Johnny said.

“I don’t know why he just doesn’t go see one of our girls.”

Cotton startled a little and looked to his right. Jim Gallagher, the late common-law husband of Sandy Hopper, sat on one of the other logs. The spirit visited often, which sometimes annoyed Cotton. Of course, he communicated with many spirits, but most of them didn’t hang around long.

Jim smiled. “At least he could scratch one particular itch. Nothing makes a man crankier than when he ain’t had some lovin’ in a while.” His face fell. “I oughta know. I miss Sandy like crazy.”

Cotton couldn’t disagree with Jim, but he didn’t want to encourage Johnny to do something he’d later regret. “I understand, Johnny. You are welcome to stay as long as you want.”

“Thanks.” Johnny gulped down the rest of his drink. “But I got work to do. Might as well get this over with.”

“All right. I am here if you want to talk.”

Johnny said, “I appreciate that, but there ain’t nothin’ to talk about. See ya, Cotton.”

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Two

 

The day before Thanksgiving, Johnny drove to town to pick up his special shipment of white oak that the lumberyard manager had telephoned about. If not for the call, Johnny would’ve had to travel back and forth every other day to check on the order or bother someone else to do it when they went into town.

Cy might not like the telephone, but as someone who was skilled at woodworking, plumbing, and mechanics, Johnny had great appreciation for all modern inventions. In his eyes, the telephone was nothing short of a miracle.

While his team of mares, Kate and Molly, trotted along the muddy road, Johnny hummed to himself as he thought about three women whom he was close to being due to have babies next month. He’d teased them about going into labor at the same time, but he hoped that didn’t happen.

Molly lifted her head higher and nickered, drawing Johnny’s attention. Looking down the road, Johnny saw a woman walking along, her black cloak fluttering in the brisk wind. As the wagon drew closer, Johnny slowed the horses.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” he called.

The woman stopped and turned toward him, a friendly smile on her round face. “Yes?”

Johnny brought the team to a halt. “Do you have far to go? I’d be happy to take you wherever you’re going and get you out of this chilly air sooner.”

A gust of wind threatened to blow her black wool bonnet off and she clapped her hand over it. “Oh, I couldn’t ask you to do that. I’m going all the way to town.”

Johnny jumped down from the wagon and went around to the other side. “You didn’t ask, I offered. I’m Johnny Decker. I’m going to town, too.”

She looked him over. “Are you related to Officer Decker?”

“That’s right. Detective Decker is my cousin.”

Her dark eyes sparkled as she chuckled. “Oh, yes. Detective Decker. He’s quite handsome.”

Johnny grinned. “His wife thinks so, too.”

“He stopped a purse thief a few years ago.” She gave an emphatic nod. “Gave that rascal what for, he did.”

It always made Johnny proud when people praised Cy. They hadn’t always done so, but Cy’s reputation in the community had improved over the past few years. “I remember that case,” he said. “Folks were real happy when him and Brock caught that guy.” He motioned toward the wagon. “How about that ride, Mrs…um…”

“Mrs. Engel. I’d be ever so grateful.”

“It’d be my pleasure.”

Johnny took the basket she carried, handed her up onto the wagon seat, and gave it back to her. Once he was seated next to Mrs. Engel, Johnny took up the reins and started the horses out again.

“What brings you out this far on foot, if you don’t my askin’, ma’am?”

Mrs. Engel patted her basket. “I was visiting my friend and took her some blueberry muffins.”

“That’s right nice of you,” Johnny commented. “She must not live far from us. Our ranch is only about a mile back.”

Mrs. Engel pursed her lips and shook her head.

Johnny raised his voice over the noise of the wagon wheels. “Something wrong, Mrs. Engel?”

“I shouldn’t say anything…”

Johnny wasn’t one for prying into people’s business, but he couldn’t help being curious. “All right. If you’re sure.”

Mrs. Engel raised anxious eyes to Johnny’s. “Well, I worry about Jessie.”

Johnny’s forehead wrinkled. “Is she sick? Does she need a doctor? Should we go back and get her?”

Mrs. Engel chuckled and patted his forearm. “No, no. What a kind soul you are, but she doesn’t need a doctor. Jessie is blind, not sick.”

Johnny’s shoulders relaxed. “Oh, I see. I’m sure her husband takes good care of her.”

“Well, that’s the trouble.”

Johnny waited for her to continue. When she didn’t, he asked, “What’s the trouble?”

Mrs. Engel waved away his question. “Oh, nothing. Forget I said anything.”

Her response irritated Johnny, but he just said, “All right.”

They rode in silence for a little while, but the whole time, Johnny wondered what Mrs. Engel was keeping to herself. He glanced at her a couple of times, but she was watching the passing countryside and didn’t notice. Johnny tried to turn his mind to other things such as the kitchen table he was making for one of his customers.

However, his curiosity grew until he couldn’t resist asking, “Is her husband sick?”

Mrs. Engel pulled a handkerchief out and blew her nose. “No. Jessie’s not married. That’s why I’m worried. She lives by herself. She says she’s fine, and I know she mostly is, but still...”

This news didn’t sit well with Johnny. “She’s blind and lives alone all the way out here?”

“That’s right. I wish she’d move into town, but she won’t.” Mrs. Engel sighed and put her hanky away. “Stubborn as the day is long.” She gave a small laugh. “Mercy me, listen to me prattle on. I’m sorry.”

Johnny gave her a kind smile. “That’s quite all right, ma’am. I can tell you care about her an awful lot. I’m sure she’s grateful to have someone like you.”

Mrs. Engle harrumphed. “She refuses to listen to reason. Why, anything could happen to her. A bear might break into her house, or she could fall and crack her head on something…”

Johnny cringed a little at that image, but he wanted to put Mrs. Engel at ease. “Oh, I wouldn’t worry about bears none. Haven’t seen any hereabouts lately. As for fallin’, I’m sure she knows how to avoid that. Blind people are good at adjusting to their condition. My friend Wheels did. His situation is a little different, but it’s similar. He’s in a wheelchair, which is why we call him Wheels, of course. That don’t slow him down, though. Why—”

Mrs. Engel patted Johnny’s arm. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but would you mind stopping for just a few minutes, please?” Her face turned a light pink. “I’m afraid that nature calls.”

Johnny smiled and tugged on the reins. “Sure. This wagon seat don’t help that none. Kinda jiggles you around and all.”

Mrs. Engel let out a girlish giggle before Johnny jumped down and came around to help her out of the wagon. Once she was safely on the ground, Mrs. Engel hurried off into the bushes on her side of the road.

Johnny patted the rump of the closest horse, Kate, then went to her head. “She seems like a nice lady, huh? That’s a shame about her friend being blind and livin’ all alone, too. Wonder why she don’t want to move.”

His other mare, Molly, swung her head over and tried to steal his hat. Johnny laughed and avoided her playful grab. “That’s enough of that, girl. Behave or you won’t get any oats.” He looked over at the place where Mrs. Engel had disappeared. “It’s taking her a long time. Maybe I should check on her.”

Heat crept up his neck at the thought of interrupting a woman during such a private time, but what if she’d gotten sick and needed help?

Walking closer to the bushes Johnny swallowed his apprehension and hollered, “Mrs. Engel? Are you all right?” When no answer came, he moved even nearer. “Mrs. Engel? It’s Johnny. Uh, is everything okay? Do you need help?”

Silence met his second inquiry and concern took hold of him. Had she passed out? Had a heart attack? What should he do?

Squaring his shoulders, Johnny said, “Mrs. Engel, unless you say something right now, I’m coming back there to make sure you’re alive.” Well, that was stupid. “I mean, to see if you’re all right.” More silence. “Okay. Here I come!”

Johnny braced himself for whatever he might find when he breached the bushes. He pushed the long grass out of the way and stepped behind the foliage. His heart lurched, alarm shooting through him when he saw that the area was empty.

“Mrs. Engle? Where are you?”

Johnny ran further into the field, looking for footsteps, but there was no sign of the woman. He ran back and forth, searching for her behind other bushes and trees, but she was just…gone.

“This is crazy. People just don’t disappear.” He stood catching his breath for a moment, scanning the area even though he knew she wasn’t there. “Cotton! He can find anyone!”

Racing back to his wagon, Johnny leapt onto the seat. He turned the team around and urged them into a gallop. The mares caught his urgency and plunged ahead, their large hooves throwing big clods of dirt behind them. As they approached the drive to Sundance Ranch, Johnny slowed the team enough to make the turn without capsizing the wagon, but he kept the team at a fast clip until they had almost reached Daphne and Brock’s house.

He threw the reins down, jumped out of the wagon, and ran to his woodshop. Cotton had been helping him that morning and Johnny hoped he was still there. He burst into the shop, the door banging against the wall.

“Cotton! I need your help!”

Cotton jumped at the explosive intrusion and his pulse spiked in response to Johnny’s wild-eyed gaze and panic-stricken expression. “What happened?”

“There was a woman. I put her in the wagon.” Johnny gestured toward the road. “She wanted to go to…you know…powder her nose. I stopped, and she was just gone!”

Cotton’s dark eyes filled with confusion. “What woman? Did Mrs. Hawthorne go with you?”

“No! The stranger lady. Mrs. Engel.” Johnny dragged a hand through his hair. “She was on the road. Walking and then she had to go.” He grabbed Cotton’s arm, something that no one ever did if they wanted to live. “C’mon. We gotta go find her.”

Cotton clamped a hand around Johnny’s wrist. “Stop! Calm down. You are not making sense.”

Johnny further startled Cotton by taking him by his biceps. “I’m trying to tell you, but you’re not listening!” He pointed out the window. “Somewhere out there is a woman who went to pee and didn’t come back!”

Despite his amusement over Johnny’s comical statement, Cotton hid a smile in the face of his agitation. Remaining calm, he said, “Let me go.”

Johnny looked at his hands, realizing for the first time that he’d latched onto Cotton. He released him and attempted to rub Cotton’s arms, but the Indian batted his hands away.

“Stop it!” he commanded.

Johnny backed up a step. “Sorry, Cotton.”

“Take a breath and start at the beginning.”

Johnny sucked in a deep lungful of air and gathered his wits before restarting his story. When he finished, he expected Cotton to be as worried and confused as him. However, Cotton’s only response was a grunt and a brief nod.

“What’s that mean?” Johnny asked. “We have to go find her.”

“We will not find her no matter how hard we search.”

“Why not? You can track anyone. I know you can find her,” Johnny insisted.

Cotton regarded Johnny with somber eyes. “No one can find her. She is a spirit.”

Incensed, Johnny pointed at Cotton. “This ain’t funny. She was no ghost!” He grabbed his coat sleeve and tugged on it. “She touched my arm. Held my hand when I helped her into the wagon and all. No ghost can grab you like that. So stop makin’ fun of me and help me find her!”

Cotton drew himself up and crossed his arms over his chest. Meeting Johnny’s angry gaze, he said, “I am not making fun of you. A missing woman is serious.”

“Yes, it is. So, let’s go.” Johnny stepped toward the door, but Cotton didn’t move an inch. “C’mon!”

“Johnny, listen to what I’m telling you. You will not find this Mrs. Engel. She is a spirit. I know about these things,” Cotton said.

As a former medicine man’s apprentice, Cotton had great insight into the spiritual realm and had he continued his apprenticeship, he probably would have been chosen as head medicine man one day. However, fate had intervened and sent him down a different path. He’d never lost his connection with the mysterious afterlife, though.

Johnny’s expression turned pleading. “I know, Cotton, but she was right there next to me. As solid as you are right now.”

“Johnny, spirits often appear to be real because they are. I have had spirits touch me. They have woken me up by shaking me or tapped my shoulder to get my attention,” Cotton said. “I will go with you to look if it will make you feel better, but I know we will not find her.”

“Thank you,” Johnny said.

Cotton sighed and followed his nephew from the woodshop.

 

 

Chapter Three

 

After thoroughly scouting the area Johnny had shown him, Cotton was further convinced that Mrs. Engel was indeed a spirit. There were no signs of a woman anywhere. Other than Johnny’s footprints, the ground around the bushes or in the field was undisturbed.

“Johnny, no one except you has been here. You said she was a little plump. If that is the case, she would have left tracks and we would have found her waste,” he said.

Johnny scratched his head. “Oh, yeah. I didn’t think of that.” A chill washed over him. “Do you really think she was a spirit?”

Cotton threw an irritated look at Johnny. “Have I not said so?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

They returned to the side of the road where Johnny’s wagon stood. Climbing up on the seat, Johnny tried to wrap his mind around what had happened. He wasn’t quite ready to believe that he’d been visited by a ghost, but the evidence was compelling. How else could a woman just disappear?

“Johnny, go get your shipment. I’ll walk back home. I know a short cut,” Cotton said.

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

Johnny picked up the reins. “Okay. I’ll see you later.”

Cotton lifted a hand in farewell and started for the ranch.

When Johnny clicked his tongue, the pair of dark bay mares started moving. The entire way to town, he mulled over the mystery of Mrs. Engel, but couldn’t think of a reasonable explanation for her disappearance. The more he thought about it, Cotton’s theory seemed plausible.

He’d also said that spirits often came with a message or request. Mrs. Engel hadn’t asked anything of him, though. She’d just expressed concern for her friend. Johnny sat straighter on the wagon seat as he entered town. Was he supposed to help this Jessie? Could that be why Mrs. Engel had come to him?

As he drove up to the lumber yard, Johnny decided to find Jessie and make sure she was all right. A feeling of peace settled over Johnny, and he knew that he’d made the right decision.

 

 

A man on a mission, Johnny picked up his lumber and then headed for the post office, which was attached to the train depot office. The new postmaster, Jake Archer, would know if someone new had moved to town. On his way inside, he greeted people he knew and wished them a nice Thanksgiving.

There were several people ahead of Johnny in line. The connecting door to the depot office was open and the sound of the telegraph machine was loud enough to be heard in the post office. Johnny always enjoyed imagining who the senders of the messages and their recipients might be.

But right then he was impatient for the people ahead of him to finish their business, so he could talk to Jake. Finally, it was his turn.

“Hello, Johnny,” Jake said as he stepped up to the counter.

Johnny gave him a nod. “Good to see you, Jake.”

“Likewise. How can I help you?”

“Well, I was wondering if you know if anyone new moved to town. I’m lookin’ for a woman named Jessie. I was told that she’s living somewhere near our ranch,” Johnny responded.

Jake scratched his salt-and-pepper beard. “Hmm. Jessie, you say?”

“Yeah.” Hope and excitement hummed through Johnny.

Jake’s eyes lit up. “I recollect a young, pretty woman coming in to mail a postcard a few days ago. Her name was Jessie. Said she was moving into the old Klingerman place. I’m not familiar with it. Are you?”

A bolt of shock rendered Johnny silent as images of the girl he’d fallen in love with several years ago filled his mind. Nobody had believed him when he’d told them that he wanted to marry Dory Klingerman.

“Johnny?”

Johnny startled a little. “Hmm? Oh, um, what did she look like?”

“Red hair, a petite little thing. Right sweet girl. On the quiet side,” Jake replied. “Shame about her being blind.”

Johnny braced himself on the counter as a wave of dizziness engulfed him. It was just as Mrs. Engel had said. It went a long way toward convincing him that the woman he’d met that day really had been a ghost.

“You all right, son?”

“Yeah. Sure. What’s her last name?” Johnny asked.

Jake stuck a few letters in their respective boxes. “Lucky for you I have a good memory for names. Have to in this job. Engel. Jessie Engel.”

In a faint voice, Johnny thanked Jake and left the depot in a daze. He went to his wagon and climbed up on the seat, but just sat there as his mind spun like a tornado. Mrs. Engel, whether she was flesh and blood or an entity from beyond, had given him the correct information.

However, she hadn’t told him that she and Jessie shared the same last name. And what about the fact that Jessie was living in Dory’s old house? Was that important somehow?

“I can sit here and wonder all day, or I can go find out,” Johnny mumbled under his breath.

He snapped out of his shock, and got under way, determined to figure out what the strange events of that morning meant.

 

 

Arriving back home, Johnny was glad that no one was around the barn. He wondered where their ranch hand Corky Halloran was as he gave his team a hasty rubdown. Corky was a likeable fellow, but he had an unnerving habit of appearing out of the blue. His skill at creeping up on people rivaled that of Sly or Cotton’s.

Johnny put the draft horses in their stalls and got his saddle horse out. He put a bridle on the spirited paint gelding but didn’t waste time with a saddle. Swinging onto the horse’s back the way that Daniel had taught him, Johnny urged the big horse forward. They burst out of the barn, almost running over Corky, who staggered back and fell hard on his backside.

“Sorry, Corky!” Johnny hollered back to him.

Corky waved his acceptance of Johnny’s apology and Johnny faced frontward again. He guided his speeding mount up the trail leading to Cotton’s. They blew through the clearing, startling the older man, which was hard to do. Johnny couldn’t hold back a grin when he saw Cotton reach for the knife at his belt.

He sent the gelding down another trail. This one would take him to the Klingerman’s property. Along with the good memories of Dory, the place also brought back those of the horrible night when Maynard Klingerman had shot him point-blank in the chest. He’d thought he was going to die. He would have if not for Cotton’s quick actions.

Nearing his destination, Johnny pulled his mount down to a sedate trot. The house came into view and the carpenter in him couldn’t help noting the bland, peeling gray paint. It needed to be scraped and repainted, and it looked like a couple of the upstairs windows were also in need of attention. Jagged cracks that reminded Johnny of lightning bolts crossed the glass panes.

Johnny reined his horse to a stop and dismounted. He looped the reins around a picket in the rickety fence that surrounded the house, doubting that the unstable structure would stop his horse from running off should it get the notion. The rusty gate opened with a loud, hoarse squeak and Johnny didn’t bother closing it once he’d stepped through the opening into the overgrown yard.

He was halfway to the house when a gunshot rang out. A place in the ground about a foot in front of Johnny exploded and a strong sense of déjà vu washed over him as he flung himself to the left. Another shot sounded as he hit the ground. Near as he could tell, the shot hadn’t landed anywhere close to him.

Risking a peek from between some blades of two-feet-high, brown grass, he tried to locate the shooter.

A feminine voice shouted, “You better get out of here before I plug you full of holes!”

The fact that his assailant was a woman didn’t give Johnny much comfort.

“Don’t try to sneak up on me. Show yourself!”

Although he might be lying in the tall grass, Johnny was certain that he was still in plain sight. Unless you couldn’t see, that was. Was Jessie shooting at him even though she was blind? He remained silent as he chanced another look. A slim woman holding a shotgun that looked bigger than her stood near the edge of the porch. She turned her head back and forth, but it was tilted a little.

She’s listening to see where I am. Smart girl.

Johnny didn’t relish the idea of getting shot, but he couldn’t stay hidden all day. “Ma’am, don’t shoot! I mean no harm,” he shouted. “I’m gonna come out now. Please don’t shoot me.”

 

 

Squinting her eyes in the bright sunlight, Jessie inched her gaze around the yard. Her central vision, blurry at best on a good day, couldn’t detect anything other than a fuzzy expanse of browns and tans. It also didn’t allow her to distinguish between natural terrain and a human body. However, she could see that the man’s horse was still there, but only because it moved, and she knew that the figure was too big to be a human.

Tightening her grip on her gun, Jessie steeled her nerves. “All right. Come out but move slowly.”

Motion to the right of the dirt path leading to the porch made her heart knock against her ribs. Her palms grew clammy with fear as he rose from the grass. Sometimes her peripheral vision worked, so she looked to the right and tried to bring his features into focus that way, but it was useless. She turned her eyes frontward again. “Hands up!”

“Okay, okay! They’re up.”

“Who are you and why are you here?”

Johnny could answer the first part of her question easily enough, but how did he explain to her that he’d come because a ghost had told him about her? Doing that would only scare her and make him look crazy. Not used to telling untruths, Johnny figured out a way to respond without it being a complete lie.

“I’m Johnny Decker, ma’am. I was friends with the girl who used to live here. Fact is, I was sorta sweet on her.” He took a hesitant step forward. “So, when I heard that a young lady with red hair had moved in here, I thought maybe she’d come back.”

At first glance, Johnny had thought that the woman was Dory, but he now saw that although there was a resemblance, it wasn’t her. Instead of blue, this woman had dark eyes, which she squinted at him.

Her posture relaxed a little. “You know my cousin? Are you really Johnny Decker?”

Johnny smiled and took another step closer. “Yes, I am.” Happiness spread through him at the thought that Dory had mentioned him. “I promise it’s true. I was gonna court her, but her pa blew a hole in me and then her and Mrs. Klingerman moved to Nebraska.”

Jessie wanted to believe that this was Johnny, but she was still skeptical. “Come here, but don’t try anything stupid.”

Johnny kept his hands in the air as he approached her with cautious steps. “I swear on my ma’s life that I’m Johnny Decker and I won’t hurt you.”

Jessie backed up as he reached the porch steps. “Up here.” It would be easier to see him out of the glare of the sun.

Climbing the steps onto the warped, faded porch floorboards, Johnny heard Maynard’s coarse, angry voice and saw the ugly expression on his face. The memory of the gun blast made him flinch a little.

“That’s close enough.”

The past faded away, and Johnny focused on the woman in front of him. Given her slim frame and her blindness, it would’ve been easy to overpower and disarm her. He could move much faster than she could swing and aim the long gun. Her arms trembled slightly from the effort to hold up the heavy weapon. However, taking the gun from her by force would ruin what little trust she had in him. It would be better to reassure her and win her over.

Jessie didn’t have to squint as hard to see Johnny as she looked up at his face. Recalling what Dory had told her, she gave him a thorough looking over. She’d said that Johnny had blond hair and blue eyes. It looked like this man’s hair was light in color, but it took her a little bit to make out the color of his eyes.

He matched Dory’s description so far, but so did a lot of men. Her cheeks pinkened as she thought about the final method of identification Dory had mentioned. Her cousin had told her to look Johnny up, that he would help her, but she hadn’t gotten the chance yet. She had to make sure this man was telling the truth.

“Take off your coat and shirt. Show me your chest.” Her face flamed.

Johnny’s eyebrows rose higher. No woman had ever asked him to undress except for Daphne, and that was only because she’d wanted to rub a poultice on his chest when he’d been sick. “Why? That’s not proper.”

Jessie’s face burned even hotter. “I know, but if you are who you say you are, you’ll have a scar. Dory told me about you being shot.”

Johnny couldn’t blame her for wanting verification, but he wasn’t used to undressing in front of strange women. The fear in her expression touched him, and he decided to do as she’d asked.

“All right. I’m just undoing my coat.” He unbuttoned his old tan leather duster and then his shirt. “I just have to pull up my undershirt.” He gave a nervous laugh. “I never thought I’d be standing here doing this today.” He drew his undershirt up far enough to reveal his chest. The chilly air hit him, and his male nipples tightened in the breeze. It was an odd sensation, but not unpleasant. “There. How’s that?”

Frustration made Jessie’s jaw clench. “I need to touch it.” Helplessness turned her blood icy. “I-I can’t see well.”

Johnny could only imagine how scared she must be. The naked vulnerability in her expression evoked Johnny’s innate compassion for others, and he felt an intense urge to put her fears to rest.

“All right. Go ahead. You gotta put that gun down first.”

Jessie gripped the gun tighter for a moment then lowered it. She stopped squinting and raised her eyes to where she sensed his were located. “Please don’t hurt me.”

“I swear I won’t.”

The sincerity in his voice convinced Jessie, and she reached her hand toward him. She jumped when she felt his large hand close around her wrist. His touch was gentle as he guided her hand and placed it on his chest. Firm muscle and warm skin met her palm. Her breathing turned shallow as he slid her hand higher, stopping when her fingers encountered a raised ridge of skin.

Much like when she read Braille, Jessie used her sensitive fingertips to trace the circular, puckered scar, and she knew that he was telling the truth about his identity.

Going weak with relief, Jessie’s hold on the rifle loosened, and it clattered to the porch floor. It went off and she screamed as she found herself pinned between the house and Johnny’s hard chest.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Y-yes. Are you?” She felt his rapid heartbeat against her palm and realized that she was still touching him.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He stepped back. “I didn’t mean to squish you.” He started straightening his clothing. “I just didn’t want you to get shot. I wasn’t sure where that bullet was going to go. Lucky for us it went the other way.” He kept talking to distract himself from the pleasant sensations her touch had sent through him. “No harm done. I’m glad you have protection, but that gun’s too big for you.”

Jessie regained her composure. “It’s all I have.”

Johnny finished tucking in his shirt and buttoned his coat. “Do you believe that I’m Johnny now?”

“Yes. I’m sorry for shooting at you.”

“That’s all right.” He laughed. “Scared the dickens out of me, though.”

Jessie smiled. “We’re even then. You scared me, too. I heard you ride up, and I didn’t know what to do.”

“I understand.” He noticed that her lips were turning blue and saw a shiver run through her. “We should get you out of the cold. You gotta be frozen, Miss…?” He pretended not to know her name.

“Jessie Engel.”

“Well, why don’t we just step inside, Miss Engel?”

“Johnny!”

Johnny turned and saw Cotton riding up to the property.

The Indian slid off his pony and hurried up the path to the porch. “I heard gunshots.” He came to an abrupt halt when he caught sight of Jessie, and his black eyes took on a disbelieving light. “Dory?”

Johnny smiled. “She looks an awful lot like her, don’t she? This is Jessie Engel, Dory’s cousin.”

Cotton arched an eyebrow at Johnny’s slight emphasis on Jessie’s last name.

“Jessie, this is my uncle, Cotton Lone Wolf.” Johnny pointed at his eyes while giving a brief shake of his head.

Jessie beamed in Cotton’s direction. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Lone Wolf. Dory and Aunt Noreen spoke fondly of you both.” She opened the screen door and found the doorknob to the inner door. “Please, won’t you come in for a cup of tea or coffee?”

 

Chapter Four

 

“We don’t wanna trouble you none,” Johnny responded.

Jessie opened the door and stepped inside. “It’s no trouble at all.” She leaned the rifle in the corner by the door. “I’m glad for the company and it’s so nice to meet friends of the family.”

Johnny and Cotton followed her into the foyer. When Johnny stopped cold, Cotton ran into him. He gave Johnny an annoyed glance and then saw what had attracted Johnny’s attention.

Watermarks marred the floral-patterned wallpaper and long, thin peeling strips hung here and there. As they entered the kitchen to the right, the state of disrepair didn’t improve. Several floorboards sagged, and plaster was missing from the ceiling in spots.

At least the stove worked, which kept the kitchen somewhat warm. A rickety wooden table and four chairs stood in the center of the kitchen and a couple of oak cabinet doors hung crooked. The window near the sink was cracked and newspaper had been glued over it to keep the elements at bay.

“Make yourselves comfortable.” Jessie put a tea kettle on the stove to heat. “I know the place doesn’t look like much right now, but I’m going to hire someone to fix it up.”

Johnny said, “Well, now that you—”

Cotton grunted. “You should tear it down and start over.”

Johnny glared at Cotton and signed, “Be nice!”

“That was nice,” Cotton sent back. “This place was in bad shape before, and it is much worse now.”

Johnny thought a moment, then signed, “Yes, it looks bad, but the…” There was no word in Indian sign for “structure”. “The tipi poles may be all right,” he improvised.

Jessie took three cups from a cupboard and brought them over to the table. “You’re probably right, Mr. Lone Wolf, but I don’t have that kind of money. I’ll repair it as much as possible and it’ll be fine.”

“You may call me Cotton. Everyone does.”

“All right, Cotton.” Jessie took the tea kettle off the stove when it whistled and came over to the table. “It’s a big place to rattle around in, but it’s my new home.”

Johnny watched her pour the boiling hot water into their cups, certain that she’d overflow them, but she somehow knew just when to stop. She dipped a silver tea ball in one of the cups and put the tea kettle back on the stove.

“I have some crackers if you’d like,” Jessie suggested.

Both men declined, and Jessie pulled out one of the empty chairs. Johnny jumped up and held it for her.

“Thank you,” Jessie said.

Johnny returned to his chair. “You’re welcome. How are Dory and Mrs. Klingerman?”

Jessie timed the tea and moved the ball to another cup. “They’re both fine. Dory got married last year. She and Michael are expecting their first baby.”

Cotton saw Johnny’s face fall and felt bad for him. It looked like he’d been hoping that Dory was still unattached. But it seemed as though the Great Spirit had other plans for Johnny.

Johnny forced a smile. “That’s really nice. I’m happy for her.”

Feeling her way, Jessie moved the tea ball to the last cup. “I’ll tell her you asked about her when I write her again.”

Johnny said, “I’d be happy to help you write a letter.”

Jessie chuckled. “That’s very kind of you, but I can write by myself.”

“I don’t mean no disrespect, ma’am, but how if you’re…blind?” Johnny asked.

“I can read and write in braille.”

Johnny felt stupid. “Oh. Right. I shoulda guessed.”

“What is braille?” Cotton asked.

“I’ll show you.”

Jessie rose and went to one of the cabinet drawers. When she opened it and reached inside it, her hand encountered something furry. She jumped back with a shriek.

Jessie heard chair legs scrape across the floor as Johnny and Cotton came to her rescue. Stomping and shouting ensued and she squinted, trying to bring things into focus. Jessie knew the fast-moving blurs were Johnny and Cotton, but she couldn’t make out details.

Johnny brought his foot down hard but missed the young rat. It raced to the other side of the kitchen and disappeared into a hole in the baseboard.

“Damn it!” Johnny looked at Jessie. “Pardon the strong language, Jessie. I thought I had the varmint, but I missed it. Sorry about that.”

Jessie gave him a tight smile. “It’s all right. You tried. Thank you.”

Cotton went to the drawer and was dismayed to see that the rat had been chewing on the paper in it. “It was trying to make a nest.”

Jessie rushed toward the drawer, tripping over Johnny’s foot. He’d been turning in Cotton’s direction and hadn’t seen Jessie move. Therefore, he didn’t get out of her way in time.

He caught her as she started to fall and kept her upright. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were there. I mean, I knew you were there, I just didn’t know you were coming up behind me like that.”

Embarrassment made Jessie’s face heat. “It’s all right. It doesn’t help that I’m almost blind as a bat and can’t see two feet in front of me.”

As she cast her eyes downward, a wave of sympathy washed over Johnny. “Naw. I just have a knack for getting in the way.”

She smiled and looked back up at him. “Are you always this nice?”

Returning her smile, Johnny thought it was a shame that someone who had such pretty eyes couldn’t see with them. They reminded him of strong coffee, dark and rich. Delicate crimson eyebrows arched over her eyes and her smile drew his attention to her mouth that he bet was as soft as velvet.

Startled by his train of thought, Johnny made sure she was steady on her feet and stepped back. She’d felt good in his arms, though.

“Yes, he’s always that nice,” Cotton replied for Johnny.

Johnny shot him an annoyed look. “I was just raised with manners, is all.” He looked around the dilapidated kitchen. “Listen, are you gonna be all right here? It’s pretty—”

“I’ll be just fine, thank you.”

Jessie’s stiff smile made Johnny rethink pressing the issue.

“Okay, but tomorrow is Thanksgiving. We’d be happy to have you join us,” Johnny said. “Right, Cotton?”

Cotton nodded. “Yes. You should come.”

Moving and setting up housekeeping had kept Jessie so busy that she’d forgotten about the holiday. The thought of spending yet another day alone saddened her, but she couldn’t intrude upon strangers. “Your offer is very kind, but I couldn’t impose like that.”

“It ain’t imposin’ if you’re invited.”

“But I don’t have anything to bring.”

“Just bringing yourself will be enough,” Johnny assured her.

The sincerity in his voice almost made Jessie give in. “I’m sorry, but I have so much to do that I just can’t take the time right now. Thank you for inviting me, though.”

Her refusal didn’t sit well with Johnny, but he wasn’t going to force the issue. “Okay. If you’re sure?”

Jessie smiled. “I am.”

“All right. Well, thanks for the tea,” Johnny said. “We can let ourselves out. Have a good day.”

“You, too.”

Cotton also bid Jessie farewell, and the two men took their leave.

As she stood alone in the kitchen, listening to their horses’ hoofbeats fade away, Jessie wanted to shout for them to come back. However, she shrugged off her loneliness and returned to her chores.

 

 

“Johnny!”

The loud voice made Johnny jerk in his chair where he sat in Leigh and Cy’s kitchen. A piece of apple crisp fell off his fork, landing back on his pie plate with a plop.

“Where’s your mind, boy?”

Johnny colored a little as he met Ezra Hawthorne’s green eyes. “Hmm?”

With a quiet chuckle, Ezra pushed his empty dessert plate away. “That was quite a woolgathering session. Libby asked you something three times.”

Johnny looked across the table at Leigh’s mother. “I’m sorry, ma’am. What did you ask?”

Libby smiled at him. “Will you make one of your wonderful cradles for some friends of mine? They’re expecting their first grandchild and they’d like to give one to their daughter.”

“I’d be happy to, Libby.” Johnny put more apple crisp on his fork. “You just tell me how they want it and I’ll do it. When do they need it?”

“The baby is due in February,” Libby replied.

Johnny swallowed a bite. “I can get it done in time.”

“Wonderful! I’ll write a letter to them tonight letting them know.”

Libby left the table and started cleaning up the kitchen. Watching her, Johnny thought it remarkable that outside of her build, she didn’t resemble her daughter in the least. Leigh hadn’t inherited Libby’s inky hair, blue eyes, and oval face.

Leigh’s honey-brown hair and green eyes came from Ezra’s side of the family. Glancing at the other man, Johnny saw Ezra frown as he looked out the window. Darkness had fallen a couple of hours ago and Cy still hadn’t arrived.

“Cy will probably be home soon,” Johnny said.

Ezra nodded once. “Ayuh. Suppose so.”

Johnny hid his irritation by looking down at his dessert. The Hawthornes originally haled from Maine but had moved to Massachusetts when Leigh had been eighteen. A few years later, she’d married her first husband, and her parents had moved to South Carolina to take over Ezra’s sick cousin’s cattle farm.

Except for Leigh, the Hawthornes’ mishmash of phrases and colloquialisms sometimes confused the inhabitants of Sundance Ranch. “Ayuh” perplexed Johnny the most because it could be used to convey either a negative or positive response depending on a slight voice inflection. His ear wasn’t attuned to the difference yet and probably never would be, he thought.

However, the disapproval on Ezra’s face was clear and made Johnny bristle on Cy’s behalf. Leigh’s father wasn’t thrilled that his second son-in-law was a lawman.

“What’s on your mind, son?”

As usual, a lot of topics crowded Johnny’s mind, but the most insistent one was the conundrum of Jessie. Or maybe it was Cy. The two subjects were neck-and-neck at the moment.

Johnny laid his fork on his plate and wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Ezra, I like you and respect you, but you’re wrong about Cy. You should be proud to have such a good man as a son-in-law. He’s the finest man I know, and he’s a wonderful husband to Leigh and a great father. I can’t tell you what to do in private, but I’d sure appreciate it if you didn’t criticize him in front of me when he ain’t done nothing wrong.”

Over at the sink, Libby chuckled. “Thank you, Johnny. I keep tellin’ him the same thing.”

“Humph,” Ezra said. “I don’t care for his attitude. He’s not very friendly.”

Johnny pushed back from the table and rose. “Cy’s plenty friendly. He just doesn’t like it when people make him feel bad for bein’ a detective.” He took his plate over to the counter. “He’s saved a lot of lives. Maybe if you were a little nicer to Cy, he might be more friendly to you.”

Johnny kissed Libby’s cheek, grabbed his coat from the rack by the kitchen door, and went outside. He inhaled a lungful of cold air as he stood on the porch looking up at the stars. It was rare for him to speak out like that, but he’d had it with Ezra.

However, that wasn’t his only source of frustration. He was worried about Jessie being all alone in a big house that was practically falling down around her. Was the rest of the house safe? Were there rotting floorboards that she might fall through since she couldn’t see them? Bigger rats she might have to fight off?

Johnny lifted his eyes skyward and muttered, “God, please watch over Jessie and keep her safe.”

“I see I am not the only one thinking about her.”

Johnny yelped and spun around at Cotton’s voice coming from behind him. “Damn it, Cotton! I wish you and Corky would quit doin’ that!”

Cotton laughed. “I would, but it is too much fun watching you jump.”

Johnny couldn’t stay angry with Cotton. “I guess if you’re pickin’ on me, you’re leavin’ someone else alone.”

Cotton chuckled then sighed. “Come with me.”

Johnny asked, “Where are we goin’?”

“To check on Jessie.” Cotton motioned for Johnny to follow him. “I have a couple of horses ready.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” Johnny agreed.

They walked beyond the barn to where Cotton had left the horses.

Once he mounted, Johnny said, “Anything could happen to her, Cotton.”

Cotton tapped his moccasin clad heels against his gelding’s sides, urging it into a trot. “Yes, I know.”

They rode in silence for a little bit. The moon was almost full, casting bright light on the cold land below. Frost-covered grass created a glittering vista before them. A light breeze made the silver-gilded leaves in the trees flutter, and in the distance a coyote yipped a few times.

“Have you seen Mrs. Engel again?” Cotton asked.

“No. Don’t get mad, but I went back to where she disappeared and looked around again,” Johnny told him. “Didn’t find anything, of course. Thanks for not thinkin’ I’m crazy.”

Cotton’s eyes crinkled as he smiled. “No crazier than I am.”

Johnny fiddled with the reins. “I ain’t never seen a spirit before. Since she showed herself, I reckon she’s mighty worried about Jessie. But why me? Why didn’t she come to you since you talk to ghosts all the time?”

An annoyed look crossed Cotton’s face. “Spirits are unpredictable and often their reasons for doing things are not clear.”

Johnny said, “You’re tellin’ me. I wonder if I’ll see her again. I kinda hope not, but I sorta do. I don’t know what she wanted me to do.”

They entered Cotton’s clearing, and the Indian halted his horse. “I will be right back.”

Johnny wondered what Cotton was up to but stayed put. Cotton’s outside fire had burned down low, but still provided dim light. A snort startled Johnny and he looked across the clearing to see a doe standing close to the trees.

“You’re pretty bold, girl,” Johnny whispered. “You best get going or Cotton will have you for supper tomorrow night.”

The doe’s fluffy tail switched back and forth in a blur and she shook her head. With another snort, she flashed her tail and ran into the forest.

Cotton returned and handed Johnny a flask. “This will keep you warm. It is from my newest batch. I made some changes.”

Johnny uncapped the flask with a grin. “I’m not sure anything can top that last batch you made. I’ve never seen Cy get that drunk before.”

Cotton laughed as he mounted. “It is good to see my nephew loosening up some. He is much too serious.”

Johnny sniffed the mouth of the flask. “Whew! Holy jumpin’! Smells like a hundred-and-eighty proof, Cotton.”

“Just try it.”

With a shrug, Johnny took an experimental swallow. He’d expected the booze to blaze a fiery path down to his stomach, so he was surprised by the smooth taste and slow burn. He downed another small swig before twisting the cap back on and holding it out to Cotton.

“That’s some good stuff. Different. What did you do to it?” he asked.

Cotton motioned for him to keep the flask. “That is a secret.”

Johnny tucked the flask in a coat pocket. “Fine. Let’s get going.”

Like a nail caught in a magnetic field, Johnny was drawn to the Klingerman property. The urgency he felt baffled him, especially when they arrived and found everything quiet. The house was completely dark and other than the smoke rising from the kitchen chimney in lazy curls, nothing moved.

They sat on their horses for several minutes, but all remained silent. Yet an air of expectancy filled the night, as though something would happen at any moment.

Johnny looked over at Cotton, wondering if his mind was playing tricks on him. By the watchful expression on Cotton’s face, he knew that he felt it, too. “Do you see anything?”

Cotton’s soft chuckle carried to him. “You mean like a ghost?”

“Well…yeah.”

“No, I do not see any ghosts.”

Johnny returned Cotton’s grin. “Just askin’,” he whispered. “Seems like everything’s okay, huh?”

Cotton answered with a grunt of assent. The sound made Johnny smile. He remembered trying to learn what Cotton and his brother, David Lone Wolf’s grunts meant. This one meant yes, but others meant “no” or even that they didn’t care one way or another. Cotton even had one that meant he thought someone was acting stupid.

Johnny removed Cotton’s flask from his coat pocket and took a small swallow of its contents.

They stayed there for a while longer, but when nothing out of the ordinary occurred, Cotton said, “Things seem fine. There’s no sense staying out in the cold any longer. Let’s go home.”

Johnny agreed, but he was reluctant to leave. “You go ahead. I’ll go after a bit.”

Cotton took up his reins. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I won’t stay long, but I can’t leave just yet,” Johnny replied.

“Very well. I will see you in the morning.”

“Night, Cotton.”

With a brief nod, Cotton turned his horse around and trotted off.

Johnny listened to the receding hoofbeats, but soon the previous silence returned. Sliding off his horse, Johnny ground tied it and started up the path to the front porch. Instead of going up the steps, he detoured to the right, moving quietly through the yard.

He peered in a couple of windows but couldn’t see inside the darkened house. It also made him feel like a peeping Tom, so he stopped as he completed a circuit of the house. Arriving back at the front porch, Johnny put his hands in his coat pockets as he regarded the place in confusion over his feeling of unease.

A scream shredded the quiet of the night as Johnny turned toward his horse. The sound had come from around back. Like a speeding jackrabbit, Johnny raced through the yard, reaching the back porch in seconds. Skidding to a stop, he heard the rattling of chains mingling with the screams and whimpers of a woman.

He moved closer to the porch. “Jessie?”

She lurched and screamed even louder.

“Jessie, it’s just me, Johnny. Where are you hurt?”

 

Chapter Five

 

Tears of agony and fear coursed down Jessie’s face as she pressed herself back against the house. It felt like something was trying to tear her right foot in half and she couldn’t get it off. Johnny’s sudden appearance scared her even more.

“Get away!” she screamed. “You did this!”

“No, I didn’t. I swear. Whatever it is, I didn’t do it.”

Jessie reached toward her foot and encountered metal clamped across the instep. The crushing pain made her pant, but she kept exploring whatever had her. A picture began to form in her mind. “A trap. You laid a trap for me?”

“What? No! It’s a trap?”

His footfall on the porch made her scramble backward. Searing pain tore through her foot as the chain attached to the trap pulled tight and she screamed again.

“Jessie, please hold still. I didn’t do this, I promise. I would never hurt you.”

Jessie didn’t know what to think. Dory had told her that Johnny was trustworthy, but it was just so strange that he’d appear at the exact moment she’d gotten hurt. “D-do y-you promise that you didn’t trap me?” Her teeth had started to chatter from the cold and shock.

“I promise on my ma’s life, Jessie. Let me get that off you, okay?”

What choice did she have? He was her only hope right then. The kind way Johnny had treated her earlier that day came back to her, and she decided to trust him again. After all, he’d had every opportunity to harm her, but he hadn’t. “All right.”

“I think they chained it to the porch, but I need more light so I can see what’s what. Is it all right if I fetch a lantern from inside?”

Jessie’s foot throbbed and burned. She’d never felt such pain. “Yes, yes! Please, hurry!”

She heard him enter the kitchen and her terror grew. Danger seemed to lurk behind every sound that reached her sensitive ears. The faint, sleepy chirps of birds, the tree branches scraping against each other—all of it made Jessie feel vulnerable and she prayed that Johnny would return soon.

Apparently, he’d left the door open because she could hear him rummaging around inside. She should’ve told him where to find a lantern. He must have located one, though, because she heard him say, “Ha! Got it!”

It made her smile a little despite her fear.

Johnny rushed back to the porch and sat the lantern down by Jessie’s outstretched foot. The sight of the fox trap’s cruel jaws clamped on her pretty foot sent a river of rage through Johnny. He felt nauseous from the intensity of it and swallowed bile back.

Noting that Jessie was shivering, Johnny took off his coat and draped it over her. “Gotta keep you warm.”

“H-how bad is it?”

Johnny blew out a breath. “Well, I’m no doctor, but I don’t think it’ll be too bad once I get that off. It’ll be sore as heck, but it’ll heal.”

Jessie snuggled into Johnny’s coat. It smelled of turpentine and cedar, which had a comforting effect on her. “All right.” She jumped when she felt his hands on her body. “What are you doing?”

Johnny chuckled. “I ain’t gettin’ fresh with you. I’m lookin’ for my flask. Well, it’s Cotton’s, but…never mind.” He found the flask, uncapped it, and held it to her lips. “Drink a little of this. It’ll help with the pain.”

Jessie was all for anything that would assist with that. She took a big gulp and then coughed as the whiskey burned her throat.

“Easy, there.” Johnny put the cap back on the container and laid it aside. “Now, this is gonna hurt like a bit—bugger,” he amended. Whenever possible, he watched his language around women, even Sandy Hopper. “It’s all right if you scream or yell, but whatever you do, don’t jerk your foot around. It’ll hurt your foot worse if you do. Got it?”

Jessie gave a jerky nod. “Yes. Don’t move around.”

Johnny hated the agony on her pretty face and the shimmer of tears in her luminous eyes. “That’s right. Ready?”

A tremor ran through Jessie’s body as she anticipated how much suffering lay ahead for her. Clutching Johnny’s coat tighter, she said, “Ready.”

Her eyes closed tight, and Johnny turned his attention to her foot. With great care, he opened the jaws, ignoring her small whimpers of pain so he could get it done faster. The lantern light revealed that her foot was already bruised from the trap and blood trickled down the side of it.

When he parted the jaws wide enough, he said, “Okay, Miss Jessie, pull your foot back a little.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Go on.”

Jessie gritted her teeth and drew her foot toward her, expecting the trap to snap shut on it at any moment. Relief turned her mind hazy when it didn’t, or perhaps the whiskey she’d drank was responsible. She didn’t care. All that mattered was that the trap was gone.

Johnny muttered something under his breath, and she heard him rise. The clinking of the trap chain made her flinch, but then she heard it land somewhere away from them on the porch.

“Let’s get you inside so I can clean that foot.”

“Oh, I’ll be—” A startled yelp burst from her when she felt one of Johnny’s arms slide underneath her rear and the other one go around her back.

“Just hold on to me. I got you.”

Jessie didn’t have much choice because she suddenly found herself lifted and pressed against his chest. His coat slipped from her hands and the frosty night air hit her as she grasped his shirt.

“I’m sure I can walk. You can put me down,” she said, even though her foot throbbed with every beat of her heart.

“No, ma’am. We’re not going to take any chance of you fallin’ or doing more harm to your poor ole foot.”

The finality in his voice convinced her that arguing was futile, so she stayed silent while he carried her through the house. When she felt him heft her and lift his foot, she knew they were at the stairs.

“I’m not sleeping upstairs. I’m using the cook’s room off the kitchen. It stays a lot warmer in there,” Jessie said.

“Oh. I see.” Johnny tried to hide his disapproval, but it was hard. “Is it the doorway near the stove?”

“That’s right.”

Now that his eyes were adjusted to the darkness, Johnny found the room. He made sure not to bump Jessie’s foot off the doorjamb as he carried her inside and he was grateful for the moonlight. It illuminated her bed, upon which he laid her. A blush crept up his neck because it was one of the few times he’d ever been in a single woman’s room who wasn’t a family member.

“Okay, you just rest there. I’m going to put some water on to heat so I can clean that foot.”

He left the room with a determined set to his jaw as he went to start his task.

 

 

A short time later, Jessie gripped the bed sheet in her fists, sweat trickling down her forehead as Johnny washed her foot with a warm ginger tea solution.

“You got any aspirin or laudanum around?” he asked.

“No. I haven’t had time to stock up on such things.” Other people might not have caught his faint sigh, but she did. “Just what is your objection, Mr. Decker?”

Johnny debated on whether to say anything or not. She was hurting and scared, which wasn’t the best time to have this kind of conversation. But if he tried to evade her question, she’d only get angrier. “No disrespect, Miss Engel, but I can’t for the life of me figure out what you’re doing livin’ here all alone.”

Jessie’s temper sparked. “You mean because I’m blind?”

Johnny recognized her defensive tone as the same one in Wheels’ voice whenever someone implied that he couldn’t do something because he was paralyzed. “No, I mean because you didn’t lay in more provisions. There ain’t much in your pantry and this place is ready to collapse and you don’t have much firewood. Course, it’d be mighty hard for you to chop wood—not because you’re blind, but because you’re no bigger than a mite and I doubt you could swing an axe—”

Her giggle took him by surprise, and he looked up from his task to find her smiling at him. Judging by the glassiness of her eyes, she’d gotten even more of that whiskey than he’d thought. He’d given her more of it right before he’d started cleaning her wounds. It looked like it had worked a little too well.

She giggled again, and he smiled at the pretty sound. “You’re so sweet. I’m sure your wife appreciates that about you.”

“She might if I had a wife.” He regretted his testy reply, but her comment had rubbed him the wrong way.

“Your sweetheart then.” Jessie smiled.

“I ain’t got one of them, either.”

“Forgive me. That’s none of my business. I think I’m a little tipsy.”

Johnny finished cleaning her foot and bandaged it.

Even though her foot ached and felt like someone had laid a firebrand on it, Jessie grew drowsy. Laying her head back on her pillow, she was sorry that Johnny had finished. She liked the way his calloused hands had felt on her ankle. It wasn’t proper for them to be alone in her room like this, but right then she didn’t care.

“Johnny?”

“Hmm?”

“Why aren’t you married? Dory said you’re handsome, kind, and talented.”

Rising from the bed, Johnny gathered the basin, cloths, and what was left of one of her petticoats. Quelling the frustration that threatened to surface, he replied, “Your guess is as good as mine. Guess the right girl ain’t come along yet. I’ll be right back.”

Jessie tried to keep her eyes open, but her eyelids drifted shut and she was asleep in a matter of seconds.

 

 

Johnny washed the basin, rinsed out the cloths he’d used, and put more wood in the stove. There was a fireplace in the kitchen that would’ve heated the room better at night, but he doubted that it was safe to use. It was warm in the kitchen, but the cook’s room was chilly even though the stove was right outside it.

Remembering that Jessie had dropped his coat, Johnny retrieved it from the porch and put it on. Standing on the back porch, he gazed around, checking to make sure no one was lurking around. With that thought, he found the trap and took it inside with him. He shut and locked the kitchen door, then secured the front door.

Jessie’s shotgun still leaned in the corner by the front door. He took it back to the kitchen, located more ammunition in one of the kitchen drawers, and loaded the weapon. Most likely, whoever had set the trap had gone, but Johnny wasn’t taking any chances.

Returning to Jessie’s room, he found her asleep and laid the shotgun on the floor a short distance from the bed. He smiled at the sweet picture she made as he pulled the comforter over her. Finding an extra blanket on a chair in one corner, he folded it longways, and spread it out on the floor.

Standing next to Jessie’s bed, looking down at her, he saw a tremor run through her even while she slept. Reaching down, he took the hand nearest to him and frowned at how icy it felt. Casting a glance at the blanket on the floor, Johnny knew that it wasn’t going be much help in keeping her warm.

His body heat would do the job, but lying in bed with a woman who was a stranger went against Johnny’s moral code. However, he supposed that he could be forgiven since it was an emergency.

Taking off his coat, he laid it on the chair and removed his boots. Being careful not to wake her, Johnny slid his arms under Jessie and scooted her top half over in the bed. He did his best to ignore how nice she smelled, but it was hard. As gently as possible, he moved her feet over, relieved when she only whimpered and fell silent again.

Grabbing the blanket off the floor, he lay down in the bed on top of the covers to retain some level of propriety and spread his blanket over them. Rolling over to face her, he put his arm around her waist and gathered her against him. She stirred for a moment then stilled.

Laying his head on the pillow next to hers, Johnny listened to her deep, even breathing and was glad she could sleep. It provided her with an escape from the pain. He hoped that her pretty, delicate foot wasn’t broken. Disgust that someone would pull something so vicious on a defenseless woman burned through him.

Protectively, Johnny held Jessie closer. “Don’t worry. No one will hurt you while I’m here,” he whispered.

Jessie turned her head toward Johnny, and he was startled to find her lips inches from his. They were parted and reminded him of red raspberries. The urge to kiss her hit him out of nowhere and shame stole through him. Here she was hurt and sound asleep and he wanted to press his mouth to her lips that looked so soft…

To avoid the temptation, Johnny put a couple of inches between them and looked up at the ceiling. He’d only slept alongside one other woman before, but he’d been so drunk that he didn’t remember it to this day. He did remember waking up next to her and being relieved that his inebriated state had prevented them from having relations.

Unlike his friends, Johnny had a strict moral code when it came to women and while he was as red-blooded as any other man, he wanted to make love for the first time with the woman he married. A frown tugged the corners of his mouth down. At twenty-four, that need was getting harder to resist, and he’d be a liar if he said that he didn’t sometimes watch Sandy’s girls with longing. However, he wanted more than just passing physical pleasure, so he stuck to his convictions.

Those thoughts were hardly decent while lying next to Jessie, so Johnny turned his mind to figuring out why someone would want to hurt her. She was new in town, so she hadn’t had time to make enemies. What possible reason could they have to pull something so low?

Although he was tired, Johnny resisted sleep, staying alert for any sign of trouble. The house sounds were unfamiliar to him, which also kept him awake. However, after a couple of hours had passed without incident, the cozy warmth he shared with Jessie and his exhaustion proved too much and his eyelids drifted shut.

 

 

Chapter Six

 

“Cotton! You up?”

Recognizing Cy’s voice, Cotton opened his eyes and looked over at the firepit in the center of his tipi. It had burned down to embers, indicating that it was almost morning. “I am now. Come!” he called in Comanche.

Cy ducked inside, and Cotton noticed that the sky was just starting to lighten. He smiled as Cy knelt on one knee. His nephew wore traditional buckskin breeches, moccasin boots, and a heavy, fringed buckskin coat. For many years, Cy had worn his hair short, which had helped him fit in with white culture when he used to work for Pinkerton.

However, over the last couple of years, Cy had started reclaiming some of his Comanche roots and his deep brown hair now hung past his shoulders. Except for the short beard he always grew in the winter, he looked much more Indian than he used to, which did Cotton’s heart good.

Cotton sobered when he saw the worry in Cy’s eyes. “What is it? Is it Leigh’s time?”

“No, although we’re both ready for that baby to come.” Cy’s smile was short-lived. “Have you seen Johnny? Did he stay with you last night?”

Cotton sat up. “No. Why?”

“He didn’t come home. Did he mention if he was going to stay with Wheels or something?” Cy was worried because Johnny was a creature of habit and rarely stayed elsewhere overnight.

He was so startled when Cotton whipped back his blankets that he almost went over backward. Cotton’s naked state further shocked him. “Where are your clothes?”

Cotton flicked an annoyed glance at him. “What does it matter? You have seen me naked before.”

“Yeah, but that’s when we were swimming. You sleep naked?” Cy regained his balance as Cotton tied on a breechcloth.

Cotton’s eyes danced with a devilish light while he secured leggings to his breechcloth. “Sometimes when I am expecting one of my lady friends to show up late at night I do.”

Cy rolled his eyes but laughed. “But what happens when someone else shows up?”

Cotton shrugged and drew a buckskin shirt over his head. “They can turn around until I’m dressed or look. I do not care.”

Cy laughed again.

Cotton tied a bison robe around his shoulders, picked up his bow and quiver, and ducked outside.

Cy followed. “Where are we going?”

“To find Johnny. I think I know where he is.”

Cotton let out a shrill whistle as they neared the rope surround where he kept his six horses. Three of them trotted over to Cotton, but he only let two of them out. He swung up on one while Cy did the same with the second since he’d come on foot. All of Cotton’s horses were trained to ride by pressure and voice, so he didn’t bother with tack.

“Where is he?” Cy asked in Comanche as his horse drew even with Cotton’s.

Cotton glared at him. “I will tell you, but if you laugh, I will make you regret it.”

Cy arched an eyebrow at his confrontational attitude. It was always best to tread lightly when Cotton acted like that. “I promise not to laugh, uncle.” He held up his hand. “Before you tell me, can I ask you something?”

“Yes.”

“Why don’t you want us to call you Uncle Cotton?”

Cotton gave him his you-are-an-idiot grunt. “Because in my culture, we did not need to put ‘uncle’ before someone’s name. We knew they were our uncle, so why say it all the time?” He shook his head. “I am still amazed by how much time other cultures waste with such stupid things. Like cutting down trees to decorate. Trees do not belong in a house any more than people do. It is unnatural to live in a square box. I do not know how you stand it.”

Cy now regretted his inquiry. “Enough. Back to Johnny.”

Cotton sighed and began his story.

Cy didn’t interrupt Cotton with questions because he knew it would anger his uncle. However, once Cotton had finished, he asked, “So, you think he’s still at her house? Doing what?”

Cotton smiled and shrugged.

Cy frowned. “Johnny’s not like that. He’d never sleep with a woman before marriage.”

“Perhaps you haven’t noticed, but Johnny is now a grown man. He has needs the same as we do.”

Cy gave him a doubtful look. “Yeah, but Johnny would never go against his beliefs.”

“If she is not a virgin, I do not see the problem,” Cotton remarked.

“That’s your view, but Johnny’s a Christian and he doesn’t believe in having relations before marriage,” Cy insisted.

“I know, but I think he has suffered one too many setbacks in his search for a wife,” Cotton countered.

“This last time was a huge blow, but he’ll bounce back. He always does. Besides, I know Johnny would never sleep with a woman he just met.”

Cotton’s next grunt conveyed his doubt and Cy let the matter drop. They’d find out soon enough.

 

 

Loud knocking startled Johnny awake. “I’m up, Cy! I’m up!” he yelled, bolting up in bed. Looking around at the unfamiliar room, he was disoriented for a few moments before the memories of last night came back.

Looking down, he saw that Jessie was also awake now. He jumped when the knocking sounded again. The sky outside the small window was stained with the first pink and golden streaks of dawn.

“Morning, Jessie. You expecting someone today?” he asked.

Jessie’s head ached and her foot throbbed. “No,” she whispered.

Johnny swung his legs out of the bed and picked up the rifle from the floor. “I’ll get rid of them. Then we’ll look at your foot and see about some breakfast.”

Jessie didn’t have the strength to argue. “That’s fine.”

Johnny left her room and hurried to the front door. He threw it open and pointed the gun at whoever might be outside it.

Cotton and Cy back-peddled, holding up their hands in surrender. Johnny was relieved to see them. He smiled and lowered the weapon. “Morning, fellas. C’mon in.”

The other men gave him inquisitive looks as they entered the foyer.

For the second time that morning, Cy asked, “Where are your clothes?”

Johnny had forgotten that he was only wearing his long underwear. “It got too hot in bed with Jessie, so I just took off my pants and shirt. She was cold, and I had to keep her warm because it don’t stay very warm in here at night.”

Cotton smiled while Cy scowled.

“You slept with Jessie?” Cy asked.

Johnny yawned and nodded. “Yeah.” Alarm shot through him as he realized how that sounded. “I mean, we were in the same bed, but we just slept. She’s hurt, and she was so cold that I snuggled with her to keep warm. I was on top of the covers and besides, I’d never…do that with an injured woman. What kind of man do you think I am?”

His relatives grinned at his defensive statement, which aggravated him.

“It ain’t funny. Someone put a trap on the back porch, and she stepped in it last night,” he said. “Her foot might be broken.”

Cotton’s eyes glittered with anger and concern. “Where is she? I will look at it.”

Johnny blocked his path. “I’ll make sure she’s decent and then you can see it.”

Cotton’s eyebrows rose, but he just nodded.

When Johnny left the foyer, Cy leaned closer to Cotton and whispered, “Told you so.”

Cotton gave Cy a withering look and Cy retreated a couple of hasty steps.

Johnny returned to Jessie’s room and started dressing. “It’s okay. It’s just Cotton and my cousin, Cy. I’m right glad they’re here. Cotton is the next best thing to a doctor.”

His words barely registered in Jessie’s mind as she tried to keep the bile rising in her throat down. “Johnny, I’m going to be sick.”

“Oh, boy.” Johnny ran out to the kitchen, almost knocking Cy over in his haste. He grabbed the basin he’d used last night. “She’s hungover,” he announced and rushed back to Jessie.

Jessie rose on an elbow while Johnny perched on the edge of bed and helped her sit up. Her headache went from a dull throb to feeling like someone was pounding on it with a sledgehammer. A wave of nausea hit her, and Jessie retched.

Calmly, Johnny put a hand over Jessie’s ear that was nearest him. “Cotton, can you make some ginger tea? The stuff is right on the counter,” he yelled.

“Yes!”

Jessie didn’t have much in her stomach, but the dry heaves continued for a few more minutes before her stomach settled. Exhausted, she leaned against Johnny, who rubbed her back in soothing circles.

“Sorry I got you drunk.”

His whispered apology struck Jessie as funny and made her smile despite how wretched she felt. Johnny’s touch was nice and his warm, solid bulk comforted her. She knew it wasn’t proper to let him hold her this way, but she figured that it didn’t matter much after they’d spent the night together in the same bed.

That was a preview of A Very Decker Christmas: The Chance City Series Book Seven. To read the rest purchase the book.

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