Hill Country Christmas. Laurie Kingery

      He had to quell her inquiries before he ended up saying more than he meant to. Jude gave her a direct look, a look that was a little too bold, a look that said she didn’t know him nearly well enough to be asking such a personal thing.

      “The question is, what are you going to do with it, Miss Keller? That’s what you need to be thinking of.”

      He saw the flush sweep up her neck and into her cheeks and knew she’d gotten the message he intended.

      “Oh! I…I suppose you’re right….” A parade of emotions played across her face as he watched, from astonishment to thoughtfulness to amusement.

      “Well, this does change things, doesn’t it? I was on the way to town to sell my eggs so I’d have enough to buy sugar, and I thought while I was there I’d see about getting a job. I thought I’d better start saving some money for when the new preacher arrived and I had to find a new place to live.”

      He laughed. “You won’t have to do that now, Miss Keller.”

      She smiled, a smile of dawning confidence. “No, I won’t, will I? I…I can buy a house if I want to, can’t I?”

      He nodded, amused. She really had no idea, just yet, of just how wealthy she was. “Miss Keller, with the wealth represented by that certificate, there, you can have a house built to your exact specifications. It could be the biggest house in Llano Crossing, if you wanted. Or you could move anywhere you like.”

      “I—I see,” she breathed. “Well! That does give me something to think about, doesn’t it?”

      A gleam flashed across those clear green eyes. Delia Keller looked as if she’d thought of something very satisfying. Jude wondered for a moment what it was.

      “What do you suggest I do first, Mr. Tucker?” she asked.

      “You said you were going to town. You should still go, and right away. Get that certificate into the bank safe before you tell anyone—and I mean anyone—about it.”

      She looked startled at his sudden grimness.

      “Mr. Tucker, this is a small town, full of good people, not swindlers and cardsharps. It’s not as if someone would snatch it out of my hand,” she protested.

      “You asked my opinion, Miss Keller,” he reminded her. “All I’m saying is, go to the bank first, before you speak to anyone about what I’ve told you. After that, you can sit up on the roof of the town hall and call out the news from there, if you’ve a mind to.”

      Jude could see his blunt words had splashed cold water on her bubbling excitement, which was as he’d intended. A little caution would serve her well.

      “Very well. I’m sure it’s good advice,” she said. “Would you suggest that I not mention it to anyone afterward, either? Other than the bank president, I mean—he’ll have to know because I’ll have to tell him how I came by this certificate. But people will guess something has happened when I start looking for property….” Her voice trailed off and she looked at him uncertainly.

      He managed not to laugh at her naiveté. “I think you’ll find that word will get around as if it had wings, Miss Keller. Be very careful. You’re going to find that the way people have treated you is about to change. Don’t trust everything that people say to you.”

      She studied him for a long moment and looked as if she were about to ask him how he knew so much. But apparently, after the way he had responded to her other personal question, she decided against it, for she just nodded.

      “I’ll do as you suggest,” she said, rising. “Perhaps you would accompany me, Mr. Tucker? The least I could do would be to buy you dinner at the hotel afterward, after the distance you’ve come to inform me of this…this astonishing change in my situation,” she said. She’d have to ask the bank president for an advance of cash in order to pay for the meal, of course, but that shouldn’t be a problem.

      Chapter Three

      He laughed, but this time it was a mirthless sound that stung her pride. “Miss Keller, you’re a rich woman now, but you still need to be careful of what people will say. Being seen with a stranger—especially being seen dining with me—would not be good for your reputation.”

      She hadn’t thought of that, but was determined to persuade him. “If I introduce you—if I explain that you were my father’s friend and came here to inform me of his death—I’m sure no one would think ill of it.”

      He shook his head. “That wouldn’t make a difference,” he said. “In fact, it might make things worse. No, you’d do better to pretend we never met—other than yesterday, of course, when I asked for directions. That wasn’t exactly a formal introduction.”

      “But what will you do? Where will you go from here?” she asked. She’d wanted to hear more from this man about her father—and, if she were honest with herself, she wanted to spend a little more time in the company of Jude Tucker, though she couldn’t have said why. There was just something about him. Perhaps it was only because he had brought the news that had just changed her life.

      For a moment, he looked as if he was going to ask her why she cared enough to ask. Then he said, shrugging, “I don’t know. I’m a fair enough carpenter…. I’ll probably stick around town awhile, do some odd jobs to build up a stake so I can go back out West.”

      “It’s honest work,” she murmured.

      “It’ll take a long time to earn enough that way.”

      “If you’re in that much of a hurry, maybe you should rob the bank,” she suggested tartly.

      “The same bank you’re about to go to? Not a very wise suggestion, Miss Keller.”

      She stiffened at his teasing. “I’m just going to take these eggs back into the kitchen, and then I must be going,” she said, going to pick up the basket she had left by the gate. “Good day, Mr. Tucker. Thank you for your kindness in coming, and for your honesty in bringing me my father’s legacy.”

      “Goodbye, Miss Keller,” he said, donning his hat again and pulling it low, so his eyes were in shadow. “Remember, if you see me around town, we haven’t met.”

      His unnecessary reminder, and his failure to acknowledge her thanks, irritated her. “That won’t be a problem,” Delia said, her voice curt.

      Tucker had been compassionate in the way he’d informed her of her father’s death, but after that he’d done nothing but make her feel like a gullible innocent. Very well! She had tried to show her gratitude and he’d virtually thrown the offer back in her face—even made her feel that, by offering, she had seemed a little forward.

      He was gone when she came back out, and she resolved to put Jude Tucker from her mind. With any luck, she wouldn’t encounter him again, and she could concentrate on the message he had brought, rather than the messenger.

      Her father was dead. It was strange, Delia mused as she walked down the road, but after the initial stab of grief, she felt…nothing. Perhaps, since he’d been gone without a word for so long, he had been dead to her anyway. Of course, Delia hoped he hadn’t suffered and that, in the time between the accident and Tucker’s return to the mine, her father had thought to pray.

      He had believed in Jesus, Delia remembered. She recalled times he’d listened to her prayers and read her stories from the Bible. But that had been before her mother’s passing, which had set the wanderlust loose in his soul so badly that he couldn’t bide at home and be a father to her.

      Delia winced, remembering now how often she’d expressed anger toward her father when talking to her grandpa.

      “Delia, darlin’,” she could hear him say in his drawling voice, rusty with age, “it’s plumb understandable and human that you feel that way, but you’d do better to pray for him, for his safety and his quick return. Let’s read that story in