The Cowboy’s Christmas Baby (28 page)

Dear Readers,

Merry Christmas!

This is the second book in the Cowboys & Brides series, and Lucas and Natalie would
sure like to welcome all y’all to Cedar Hill Ranch in Savoy, Texas. Population less
than a thousand with friendly folks, ranches, sexy cowboys, sassy ladies, and a snowstorm
promising the first white Christmas in nearly twenty years.

Christmas is that time when love is in the air, as much or maybe even more than Valentine’s
Day. It’s hustling about, cooking, and keeping secrets so that there can be surprises
on Christmas day. It was the perfect time for Lucas to meet Natalie in person, the
woman that he’d been visiting with via the Internet for almost a year.

He thought he’d surprise everyone when he arrived home two days early, but it was
Lucas who got the surprise. Natalie had already arrived so that she and Hazel, Lucas’s
elderly housekeeper, could surprise him when he came home. Imagine how he felt when
he rounded the back of the house and there she stood, with a dead coyote at the toes
of her boots, three bluetick hound puppies at her heels, a pink pistol in one hand,
and a baby cradled in her other arm.

And poor old Lucas didn’t know a thing about a baby!

Folks have asked me if I plot for hours before I even start to write. This time I
thought I had it all figured out, just what Natalie and Lucas would do after that
first meeting—but I got the biggest surprise of all. They crawled into my head and
told me exactly how to tell the story and what to say and if I did it my way, they
even visited my dreams. So if you love the story, the credit goes to Natalie and Lucas
and not to any plotting that I did.

And if you love the story, credit also goes a wonderful staff at Sourcebooks and my
awesome editor, Deb Werksman! Writing for Sourcebooks is an amazing experience and
I can’t thank them enough for continuing to buy my books.

Thanks again to my agent, Erin Niumata, at Folio Literary Management, who’s been steering
my career for more than a decade. And thanks to Husband, bless his heart, who has
lived with a loud-mouthed Rebel for more than forty years now.

And always, always big, big thanks to my readers who love my books, talk about them,
pass them on to their family and friends, and continue to buy them. Y’all are simply
great!

Keep your boots on because next spring, you can come back to Fannin County and read
Greg and Emily’s story in
The
Cowboy’s Mail Order Bride
. And after that, Mason Harper’s twin girls get their birthday wish in
How to Marry a Cowboy
.

Happy Reading,

Carolyn Brown

Read on for a sneak peek of

The Cowboy’s Mail Order Bride

Coming February 2014 from Sourcebooks Casablanca

Emily took a deep breath and rang the doorbell.

The cold February wind swept across the wide porch of the ranch house and cut right
through her lightweight denim jacket. Her heavy coat was in the pickup, but this job
wouldn’t take long. Hand the box of letters over to Clarice Barton and she’d be back
in her truck and on her way. Then her grandfather’s spirit would rest in peace. He’d
said that it wouldn’t until the box was put in Clarice’s hands.

She heard footsteps on hardwood floors, and then something brushed against her leg.
She looked down just as a big yellow cat laid a dead mouse on her boots. There were
two things that Emily hated and mice were both of them. Live ones topped out the list
above dead ones, but only slightly.

She kicked her foot just as the door opened and the mouse flew up like a baseball.
The woman who slung open the screen door caught the animal mid-air, realized what
she had in her hand, and threw it back toward Emily. She sidestepped the thing and
the cat jumped up, snagged it with a paw, quickly flipped it into its mouth, and ran
off the porch.

“Dammit!” The lady wiped her hand on the side of her jeans. “God almighty, I hate
them things, and that damned cat keeps bringing them up to the porch like she’s haulin’
gold into the house.”

The woman’s black hair was sprinkled with white. Bright red lipstick had run into
the wrinkles around her mouth and disappeared from the middle. When she smiled, her
brown eyes twinkled brightly. Sure enough, the hardwood floor to the big two-story
house was so shiny that Emily could see the reflection of the woman’s worn athletic
shoes in it.

“I’m sorry,” Emily gasped. “It was a reflex action.”

The woman giggled. “Well, now that we’ve both decided that we hate mice, what can
I do for you, honey? You lost or something?” she asked.

“Is this Lightning Ridge Ranch? Are you Clarice Barton?” Emily shivered against the
cold and the idea of a mouse touching her favorite boots.

“Yes, it’s Lightning Ridge, but I’m not Clarice. She’s making a run out to the henhouse.
We’re making a chocolate cake later on and I used up all the eggs makin’ hot rolls.
It’s cold. You better come on inside and wait for her. I’m Dotty, Clarice’s best friend
and helper around here. I’m going to have to wash my hands a dozen times to get the
feel of dead mouse off.” The lady stepped aside. “What do you need Clarice for?”

“I’m here to deliver this box.”

“Your nose is red and you look chilled. Come on in the living room. We got a little
blaze going in the fireplace. It’ll warm you right up. This weather is plumb crazy
these days. February ain’t supposed to be this damned cold. Spring ain’t that far
away. Winter needs to step aside. What’d you say your name was?” Dotty motioned her
into the living room with a flick of her wrist.

“I’m Emily, and thank you. The warmth feels good,” she said.

“Well, you just wait right here. She won’t be long. Go on and sit down, honey. Take
that rockin’ chair and pull it up next to the fireplace. Can I get you a cup of coffee
or hot chocolate?”

“No, ma’am. I’m fine,” Emily answered. She would have loved a cup of anything hot
just to wrap her chilled fingers around, but she didn’t want to stick around long
enough to drink a whole cup.

“Well, I’m in the middle of stirrin’ up some hot rolls. Just make yourself at home
until Clarice gets here.”

Dotty disappeared, leaving Emily alone in the living room. She held the ancient boot
box in her lap. Her grandfather had worn out the boots that came in the box and now
it held letters from a woman who was not her grandmother. His passing and her two
promises to him in his final days seemed surreal, especially sitting in the house
of the woman who’d written the letters more than sixty years before.

Warmth radiated out from the fireplace as she took stock of her surroundings. The
room was a perfect square with furniture arranged facing the fireplace to give it
a cozy feel. A framed picture of a cowboy took center stage on the mantel. She set
the box on the coffee table and stepped in closer to look at the photograph. He had
dark brown hair and green eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses. It had been taken in the
summer because there were wildflowers in the background. One shiny black boot was
propped on a rail fence, and he held a Stetson in his right hand. His left thumb was
tucked into the pocket of his tight jeans, leaving the rest of his hand to draw attention
to the zipper. And right there in the corner of the frame was a yellow sticky note
with the words, “Miss you, Nana!” stuck to it.

The crimson flushing her cheeks had nothing to do with the heat rising from the fireplace
and everything to do with the way she’d mentally undressed this man she’d never even
seen in real life.
Get a grip, Em
, she thought to herself. She backed away quickly and stood by the door, but when
she looked over her shoulder, the cowboy was staring at her. She moved to the other
side of the room and shivers shot down her spine when she realized he was still looking
at her. She tried another corner and behold, those green eyes had followed her.

She was tired. It had been a long emotional week and this was the final thing she
had to do before she could really mourn for her grandfather. She’d driven since daybreak
that morning, and her eyes were playing tricks on her. That must be it. Her dark brows
knit together as she glanced at the picture from across the room. Did he have a wedding
ring on that left hand? Determined not to let a picture intimidate her, she circled
the room so she could see the photograph better, and his hand was ring free.

How old was he, and when was the picture taken? Not one thing gave away a year or
a time other than it was spring or summer. He might be a fifty-year-old man with gray
hair nowadays and bowed legs from riding too many horses through the years. Or he
could be a lot younger than he looked in the photograph and still be in college, just
coming home to work on the ranch in the summertime like she had when she was getting
her degree.

Unless he came looking for a warm spot to take the chill off, she’d never meet him
anyway. Her mission was to deliver letters, and studying the picture was just a diversion
while she waited on Clarice.

“My grandson, Greg Adams,” a woman said from the doorway.

“Fine-lookin’ cowboy, isn’t he? His daddy and momma wanted him to be a businessman
in a big old office in Houston, but he’s got his grandpa’s ranchin’ savvy. He’s down
in southern Texas at a cattle sale. Cute little sticker he left there, isn’t it?”

Emily swallowed hard at the mention of a grandpa. She fought even harder to keep from
blushing again. “Yes, ma’am, he is surely handsome. I’m Emily Cooper, and you are
Clarice Barton?” She quickly crossed the room and held out her right hand.

Clarice’s handshake was firm and her smile sincere. “Do I know you? Dotty said you
had a box or something to give to me.”

Her thick gray hair was cut short to frame her round face. She wore jeans and a Western-cut
shirt, boots, and no makeup, and she had the same green eyes as the cowboy in the
picture.

“No, ma’am, you do not know me. You
are
Clarice Barton, aren’t you?”

“No, honey, I’m Clarice Adams. I haven’t been Clarice Barton in more than sixty years,
but I was before I got married. Let’s sit down while we talk. Dotty is bringing us
some hot coffee in a few minutes.”

Just out of curiosity, Emily glanced at the picture and sure enough, the cowboy followed
her as she crossed the room and sat down.

She picked up the box from the coffee table and held it out to Clarice. “Marvin Cooper
was my grandfather. He made me promise I’d bring these to you. They are the letters
that you wrote to him when he was in Korea during the war.”

Clarice laid a hand over her heart, and the color left her cheeks.

“Marvin,” she whispered.

“Marvin Cooper?” Dotty set a tray holding three cups of coffee on the coffee table.
“I’ll be damned. Did you tell her that you were playing kickball with a damned old
dead mouse?”

“No, ma’am.” Emily’s nostrils curled just thinking about it. She looked down at her
boots. Should she simply leave them in her hotel room or try to wash the mouse from
them? She could visualize the thing right there on the instep.

“Well, it took half a bar of soap to get it off my hand.” Dotty went on to tell Clarice
the story. “She don’t like mice either, so I’ve decided that she’s my new friend.”

Clarice giggled. “I wish I’d been here to see that sight. Dotty hates mice and I hate
spiders.” She ran a hand down the side of the box, but she didn’t take it. “I can’t
believe he kept them all these years or that you’ve brought them to me.”

Emily pointed to the one that had been slipped beneath the faded red ribbon tied around
the box. “This one is from him to you. It got stuck in a mailbag and then the bag
got shoved back into an old desk drawer down at the post office. They didn’t discover
it until last week. According to the postmark, it should’ve been mailed sixty years
ago, but it never left Happy. You might want to start with it. They brought it out
to the ranch and apologized for losing it all those years ago. Gramps told me to put
it with the others, and he didn’t even open it. He said he remembered right well what
it said.”

Clarice’s hands trembled. “Gramps? That would make you his granddaughter, then? He
got married and had children?”

“Yes, he did and he is—was—my grandfather. He’s only been gone four days and I’m still
not used to the idea of saying ‘was.’ It sounds so final.”

“I understand. When my husband died, it took me a long time to use the past tense
too. So Marvin had a granddaughter and I have a grandson,” Clarice whispered.

Dotty shook her head slowly. “Marvin Cooper! When I first met Clarice she told me
all about Marvin, but we never thought we’d hear that name again. And you drove all
the way across the state to bring those letters? You are talking about Happy, Texas,
right?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You aren’t plannin’ on drivin’ all the way back tonight, are you?” Clarice asked.

“I’m staying at a hotel in Sherman,” Emily said.

“Please stay with us for supper. I’ve got to hear all about Marvin and how his life
went.” Clarice’s eyes misted over and Emily couldn’t have refused her request if it
had meant standing in front of a firing squad.

Besides, it was just supper and a couple of hours’ worth of talking about her grandfather.
It would make Clarice feel good, and Gramps would like that. Maybe it would even give
Emily the closure she needed so badly.

“And if that damned old mama cat brings up another rat, we might have to stick together
to get rid of it,” Dotty said.

“Thank you. I’d like to stay for supper, but Miz Dotty, if that cat brings up another
one of those vicious rats, you’re on your own,” Emily said.

“Rat, my hind end. It was probably just a baby mouse. Every time that Dotty tells
the story it’ll get bigger and bigger,” Clarice said.

“You didn’t see it. It was only slightly smaller than a damned old ’possum,” Dotty
argued.

Emily giggled and wished that she could take Dotty to Florida with her. That old girl
would be a real hoot to have around all the time.

Clarice’s phone rang and she fished it out of her shirt pocket. “Greg, darlin’, the
most amazing thing has happened.” She gave him the one-minute shortened form of Emily
bringing the box of letters and told him that she’d tell him the rest of the story
when he got home.

Emily looked at the blaze in the fireplace, at the ceiling, and finally settled back
on the picture of Clarice’s grandson. She locked gazes with him, wondering what he
would be like in the flesh. Was he really that handsome or just very, very photogenic?

“That’s her grandson, Greg,” Dotty whispered.

“She told me.” Emily nodded.

“He’s gone right now, but he’ll be home tomorrow night. We miss him,” Dotty said.

“I bet he misses being home,” Emily said.

“Emily,” Clarice said.

She whipped around when she heard her name, and an instant flash lit up her face.

Clarice giggled like a little girl. “I’m so sorry. He asked me what your name was
again and I told him. It’s a good picture of you. You have your grandpa’s eyes. This
is a new phone and I keep taking pictures of things rather than hanging up. I miss
the old corded phones that we used to have and cameras that used a flashbulb. This
new technology is enough to drive a person crazy.”

Dotty picked up her cup of coffee and sipped at it. “Ain’t that the truth. Us old
dogs havin’ to learn all these new tricks is frustratin’ as hell, and that damned
computer shit is the worst thing of all. Y’all best drink that coffee before it gets
cold. Want some cookies to go with it? It’s a while till supper.”

“No, this is fine.” Emily covered a yawn with her hand. “I’m sorry. I drove all day,
stopped at the hotel, and then got lost twice trying to find this place.”

“How did you find me?” Clarice asked.

“I stopped at the post office and the lady there said that there wasn’t a Clarice
Barton around. The only Clarice she knew was Clarice Adams and I might check to see
if that was you.”

“She’s new in town. Ain’t been here but ten years or she would have known the Bartons
helped to build Ravenna.” Dotty pointed to the door. “I know Clarice is just dyin’
to dig into those letters. And I’ve got things to do in the kitchen. Would you like
to take a nap until suppertime? You can rest in the first room on the left upstairs.”

“I wouldn’t want to be a bother,” Emily said.

“No bother at all. You go on up there and rest. If you aren’t awake by supper, I’ll
holler for you,” Dotty said.

Clarice reached across the space separating them and patted her arm. “And thank you
so much for bringing these letters.”