The Rancher's Christmas Proposal. Sherri Shackelford

“Because of me.”

      “Never say that. My plans have altered because Mrs. Lund wasn’t a good choice for a guardian. I might not have realized her unsuitability,” he added, “if Owen hadn’t pestered you into returning him.”

      Owen grinned at the sound of his name, revealing his two front teeth. “Ball.”

      “Don’t paint me as the hero,” Tessa replied, raising her delicately arched eyebrows. “I was a little reluctant to return him. He’s a very good listener.”

      Shane dug through his pockets, producing the metal key. “This is the only key. I have some business in town. If you need to change, I can fetch your trunk as well.”

      “Not the trunk! I mean to say, that won’t be necessary. I’m sure a dab of water will take care of this.”

      Shane didn’t know much about laundry, but he figured it was going to take a lot more than a spot cleaning to erase that damage.

      His doubts were forestalled by a flutter of activity. Summoned by the commotion, a woman in an apron bustled over. Together they plucked shards of glass from the floor and wiped up the mess.

      Tessa brushed at the stains on her gown. “I can’t very well travel like this.”

      “Definitely not.”

      Reaching out, she rested her hand over the key. “You said there’s only one key.”

      “Only the one.” He’d bought himself some time. With a little effort, his plan would erase the fear in her eyes and make up for the trouble they’d caused her. Then maybe he could convince her they each had something the other needed. “I’ll walk you the distance and be on my way.”

      Owen showed no signs of surrendering his perch, and Tessa absently tucked him closer. The boy rested his head in the crook of her neck and stared at the shiny locket nestled at the base of her throat.

      With a last glance over her shoulder, she nodded. “I accept your offer.”

      Shane blew out a relieved breath. “You’ll be on your way in no time.”

      Keeping vigil for outlaws with wandering eyes, Shane escorted his motley bunch to the hotel and made arrangements with the clerk. Miss Spencer was obviously not well-known in town, as none of the staff showed even a flicker of recognition.

      Not that anyone could get a good look at her anyway. She spent much of the time helpfully chasing after Owen and Alyce as they reached for the vase of flowers on the round table in the lobby and crawled between the spindly legs of a settee.

      The room he’d procured was at the end of the corridor and he walked her that way, then gathered the twins. Owen yawned.

      Tessa hesitated. “How long will your business take?”

      “An hour. Maybe two.”

      “The children appear tired.”

      “They usually nap around this time.”

      She reached for Alyce, who eagerly took her hand. “I could...I could watch them. You know, while you accomplished your task.”

      He hesitated, not wanting to take advantage of her. “If you’re certain.”

      Her offer was ideal. Better than he could have hoped. While he was fully prepared to take the twins on his errand, he moved faster without them.

      “Aren’t you afraid I’ll abscond with your children?” she asked, turning the key in the lock.

      Her bright smile stole his breath. Her eyes sparkled and a delightful dimple appeared in her left cheek. He’d been immersed in his own troubles for so long, he’d forgotten the simple pleasure of a moment of joy.

      “I’m more afraid they’ll send you screaming into the streets,” he said at last.

      “I’m much stronger than I look.”

      Her dimple disappeared and he mourned the loss. “I don’t doubt it.”

      Tessa turned the key a few times, but no click of the lock sounded.

      She removed the key and studied it closely. “The numbers match but one of the teeth is bent. That must be the problem.”

      “I’ll see if they have another.”

      “No need.”

      She reached behind her head and pulled a hairpin from the coil at the nape of her neck, then inserted the slender metal into the space beneath the key. Her brow knit in concentration, she jiggled the hairpin a few times and the door sprang open.

      Shane gaped, nonplussed by her odd talent for disappearing coins and difficult locks.

      “I—uh,” Tessa stuttered. “I once had a temperamental lock on a boardinghouse door. I learned a few tricks.”

      He supposed there was nothing too odd in that. “You’re quite the locksmith.”

      “It comes in handy at the oddest times.”

      The twins hugged him around the legs before he left, but seemed content to remain with Miss Spencer. Relieved at Owen and Alyce’s easy acceptance of the situation, he made his way toward the train depot with only a twinge of guilt for taking advantage of Tessa’s good nature. The twins had been roused earlier than usual this morning and should sleep easily. Tessa appeared as though she could use the rest as well.

      Her intervention with Owen, though unplanned and unexpected, had pushed him out of his stupor. While he’d like to believe he’d have seen Mrs. Lund’s duplicity eventually, viewing her through Tessa’s eyes had forced him into acknowledging her unsuitability.

      The telegraph office was devoid of customers, and he accomplished his task in short order. Having a cousin who served as a telegraph operator was convenient. Having a telegraph operator for a cousin who was also married to a lawman was even more helpful.

      A flurry of messages were received and dispatched over the following hour, and he took a seat on the bench tucked into a corner of the small office, impatiently tapping his heel. A fine bead of sweat formed on his brow. Miss Spencer must be pacing the floors by now. He checked his watch for the thousandth time. Another forty-five minutes passed before the sheriff appeared. Shane met him at the door in three long strides.

      The man was tall and slender and as weathered and thin as a strip of beef jerky.

      He presented Shane with a wanted poster. “There’s a reward for Dead Eye. Where would you like it sent?”

      A reward. His stomach twisted. Glancing at the picture, his eyes widened at the sum listed on the bottom of the page. Tessa could hire her own private Pullman car with that amount. She certainly wouldn’t need a housekeeping job. He stuffed his free hand into his pocket and shook his head. At least one good thing had come out of this mess.

      “You’ve got him, then?” Shane prodded. “He’s locked up?”

      “Picked him up straightaway. Didn’t put up too much of a fight. I suppose he didn’t figure anyone around these parts would recognize him.”

      For once, doing the right thing had resulted in something good. Maybe not for him, but that wasn’t the point anyway. “Excellent.”

      The sheriff pushed his hat back on his head with the tip of his index finger. “And how did you come to recognize him, Mr. McCoy?”

      Shane scratched his temple and stared at the floor. “Long story.”

      The question had nagged him as well. How had Tessa known the identity of the outlaw? He shrugged. She probably saw all sorts with people coming and going from the café.

      “Understood.” The slender man touched the gun strapped against his thigh. “You’d best not stick around, just in case.”

      “Trust me, there’s not a chance he’ll connect me with his capture, but I’ll be on my