A Western Christmas. Louise M. Gouge

       Dear Reader

       Extract

       Copyright

       Yuletide Lawman

       Renee Ryan

      RENEE RYAN

      RENEE RYAN grew up in a Florida beach town where she learned to surf, sort of. With a degree from FSU, she explored career opportunities at a Florida theme park, a modeling agency and even taught high school economics. She currently lives with her husband in Nebraska, and many have mistaken their overweight cat for a small bear. You may contact Renee at reneeryan.com, on Facebook or on Twitter, @ReneeRyanBooks.

      To my twin sister, Robin Anderson, for all the good times we shared growing up and the support you’ve shown me as an adult. I’m proud to call you my family, even more honored to call you my friend.

      Wait on the Lord; be of good courage, and He shall strengthen your heart; Wait, I say, on the Lord!

      —Psalms 27:14

       Chapter One

       December 1, 1879 Thunder Ridge, Wyoming

      Ellie Wainwright pulled her cloak tightly around her and hurried across the wide street that curved through the center of town. Cold air swirled, nipping at her cheeks. She quickened her steps, careful to avoid hidden patches of ice.

      Winter had blown into Thunder Ridge, Wyoming, with enough snow to guarantee a white Christmas this year.

      Ellie paused a moment to take in the pristine winter wonderland of her beloved hometown. A smile tugged at her lips, the first since she’d come home two weeks ago, mortified, humiliated and more than a little disillusioned.

      Wreaths decorated most of the doorways along Main Street. Gold ribbon and red bows draped hitching rails and horse troughs. Garland hung from the rooftops of homes and businesses, while the occasional redbrick chimney boldly punched into the crisp, blue sky.

      The festive decorations helped soothe Ellie’s melancholy.

      She was home. She was safe. She was among people who knew the details of her family’s disgrace and accepted her anyway. Besides, she told herself firmly, a failed courtship wasn’t the worst calamity to befall a young woman of twenty-two.

      Next time, she would be wiser. She would fall for a man who could look past her family’s shame and love her anyway. In the meantime, she would find another teaching position and give her attention to her students and—

      A movement off to her right caught her attention. Her gaze landed on a lone rider and his bay-colored horse approaching from the west. With his hat slung low over his face and his collar pulled up against the wind, there was no easy way to identify the rider. Oh, but Ellie knew that silhouette.

      She knew that man. Caleb Voss.

      The widowed town sheriff had once been her brother’s closest friend and the center of Ellie’s secret girlhood admiration.

      As if sensing her watching him, Caleb reined in his horse and turned his head in Ellie’s direction. She could make out only a portion of his face and the patch of light brown hair burnished copper from the sun beneath his wide-brimmed hat.

      “Hello, Ellie.”

      The low, husky voice sent a spattering of nerves tripping down her spine and nearly knocked her backward. “Hello, Caleb.”

      With two fingers, he shoved his hat off his forehead, the gesture giving her a better view of his magnificent face. Unable to move, to speak, to think, she simply stared up at him.

      He stared back, brows arched, eyes soft.

      That look. It made her think of girlhood dreams from long, long ago. Ellie stopped breathing altogether. She simply stopped breathing. Worse, she couldn’t seem to tear her gaze away from that strong, square jaw, those moss-green eyes and the arresting features that had transformed from boyishly appealing to ruggedly handsome.

      Caleb’s eyes crinkled around the edges, the precursor to a smile. “Cold out this morning.”

      He wanted to talk about the weather? For some reason that made her even more uneasy.

      “It’s...why, yes.” She forced her lungs to work one breath at a time. In, out, in, out. “It is rather chilly today.”

      “Better get inside. Wouldn’t want you catching cold.” His voice was low and gravelly, with a touch of concern that sounded entirely too brotherly for Ellie’s way of thinking.

      Holding back a sigh, she reached for the doorknob behind her. “I’m heading in now.”

      A tug on the brim of his hat, a slight movement of stirrups, and that was the end of their very odd, all-too-brief conversation.

      Heart pounding wildly against her ribs, she twisted the doorknob and stumbled inside her friend’s dress shop, Kate’s Closet, named for the owner.

      “Well, well, well,” came the sly, knowing voice of the woman she’d come to meet. “That was certainly interesting.”

      Releasing another sigh, Ellie frowned at her friend. Katherine Riley—Kate to everyone who knew her—was a petite brunette with pretty, waiflike features that included a pert nose and sparkling brown eyes, eyes that were full of amusement at Ellie’s expense.

      She attempted a nonchalant tone. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

      But, of course, she did. She’d been riveted by the sight of Caleb riding tall in the saddle of his beautiful horse, even more so when he’d stopped to speak with her.

      “Ellen Marie Wainwright, I’m ashamed of you. As the daughter of our town’s most revered preacher, you should know better than to fib to your closest, dearest friend.” With a teasing twinkle in her eyes, Kate shook a scolding finger at her. “You and Sheriff Voss just had a...moment.”

      “We did not have a moment. Caleb and I are old friends, nothing more. He’s practically like a brother.”

      It was the simple truth. After his mother died, and his father turned to alcohol to drown away his grief, Caleb had become an honorary member of the Wainwright family.

      Even if Ellie had secretly longed for him to see her as more than his friend’s little sister, Caleb had never looked at her that way. He’d been too smitten with Lizzie Covington, who he’d made his wife not long after becoming town sheriff.

      Tragically, Lizzie had died in a freak wagon accident ten months ago, leaving Caleb to raise his five-year-old twins by himself. Hannah and Grace were such sweet children. Having lost her own mother, Ellie felt a strong connection to the little girls, nearly as powerful as the one she’d felt for Monroe Tipton’s daughters.

      She shook away the thought.

      Kate’s voice came at her again, a speculative note in the words. “I wonder if Mrs. Jenson will have success finding our good sheriff a woman to marry.”

      Ellie’s shoulders