The Marshal's Surrender (Holidays in Mountain Home Book 3) Page 14

  Her eyes shone with welcome.

  “Come,” she said, “sit by Papa.” She slid down a seat and patted the chair she’d just vacated. Pearl ear bobs swayed with her movement, catching his eye and holding his attention.

  Or maybe his attention was merely captivated by everything Noelle.

  Heat flushed through his innards—today was her birthday!—why hadn’t he remembered?

  He’d make a horrid mess of things…

  She patted the chair once more. He obeyed this time, finding the wood warm with the heat of her body. The press of her shoulder against his and the comfort of her little hand tucked within his felt like the warmest of hellos.

  A man could get used to this.

  Would she want to become used to him?

  “Happy birthday,” he whispered near her ear. She smelled good. Floral fragrance and spice—had she been baking?

  “Thank you.”

  Mr. Finlay had called the family to order before Gus noticed no gaily wrapped gifts beneath or on the tree. The long line of stockings tacked to the mantle seemed empty. He glanced at Noelle, curious.

  She simply smiled.

  What, did they have someone dressed up to play jolly old St. Nicholas, ready to bound in with a sack of gifts for the little ones?

  “Mother,” Phil Finlay directed from his repose on the sofa, “I need your help this year. You present the gifts, will you?”

  Gus soon realized each stocking contained notes, folded letters, even scraps of paper with childish handwriting upon them. Messages of love, affection, promises of time to be spent together doing all those things real families did.

  By the time the strangely reverent experience had passed through three-fourths of the family, Gus was startled to hear Noelle’s mother call his name.

  He startled and instinctively tossed up two hands to ward Caroline off.

  Oh, no. He hadn’t participated in this…hadn’t put a single note in anyone’s stocking. No way would he be able to read words of kindness from these good people and keep his composure.

  Lawmen don’t shed tears, even on Christmas.

  “August Rose.” Caroline brought him a bright red stocking, trimmed in white hand-tatted lace at the cuff. It looked new, fresh, as if she’d just sewn it.

  Why would she do a thing like that?

  His name had been embroidered along the sweep of what would’ve been the toe in a real stocking. His throat closed with an emotion he couldn’t identify and he glanced in panic from Noelle to her mother to Luke.

  Of all people, why Luke?

  Noelle put a hand on his shoulder and leaned close to whisper. “Go ahead. You don’t have to read aloud if you don’t want to.”

  Caroline pushed the beautiful handiwork into his hands. He ran callused fingers over the lace, a ridiculous gesture as his dry, rough fingers caught on the tatting and silk.

  His heart skipped a beat, slammed hard against his healing ribs, and he had a sudden urge to bolt for the door.

  What was he doing here?

  Why had he thought he could borrow this family, even for the afternoon?

  Mere seconds had passed, but he felt all eyes on him, and this proved far harder than standing up to the entire town had been.

  Noelle, bless her, saw right through him, for she reached for the mouth of the stocking and pulled out a bit of paper. She turned it right-side up and held it between them, inviting Gus to read along with her.

  This note was scrawled in a child’s hand, brief, poignant. “Thank you for protecting Auntie Noelle.” It was signed Clara, and Gus had to wonder which of the cherubs, sitting upon the floor, answered to Clara.

  Noelle slipped her arm through his, snuggled against him, and carefully pointed out a little girl of maybe seven years. “That’s beautiful, Clara. Thank you.”

  Maybe this wasn’t so hard. Gus let out a breath. He could do this.

  One by one, he read notes penned by almost all members of the family. When, exactly, had they determined to include him in this family tradition?

  The realization humbled him, and made him wonder at their overall assumption that he and Noelle were a certainty, all tied up with a bright red Christmas bow.

  He hadn’t proposed marriage.

  Yet.

  But he intended to.

  Now that he knew he’d well and certain lost his heart to her, that she was his future—if she’d have a man ten years her senior—what choice did he have?

  He wanted this woman by his side, in his life, in his bed, as the mother of his children. He wanted her to complete him.

  She already had.

  All he needed now was to put a ring on her finger and officially make it so.

  Noelle pulled out another note, this one on lovely rose-colored stationery and folded in thirds. “From me.”

  Her smile arrowed straight for his heart. He trembled, a most unmanly reaction, as he unfolded her letter and took in the exquisitely formed penmanship, the words she’d formed on paper, words he could keep and cherish always.

  My dearest Gus,

  You’ve won the privilege of hearing my entire story. From the beginning. You’re the only man I want to share my story with, as I trust you with the information. I also know your regard for my parents won’t change, regardless of things that transpired two decades past.

  I told you that if I ever shared the details, which I will, the moment we’re alone and I can explain in person, this means you’re mine.

  Merry Christmas, my love.

  Noelle

  Gus waited, silent, the import of her letter resting warm upon his heart. In that moment, his love for Noelle outgrew its barrel and overflowed. He’d simply have to find a way to grow a bigger heart.

  He didn’t see any other solution.

  As it was, he loved this woman more every day.

  He’d yet to see the Finlays respond with more than a thank you, the touch of a hand upon a shoulder, a hug between sisters.

  But love for Noelle, who’d just opened her arms and her heart as wide as they’d go and welcomed him home, wouldn’t be denied. He set the precious letter on his knee, took her face in his hands, awed and humbled by the love he witnessed in her honey-brown eyes.

  “Merry Christmas,” he whispered.

  “Merry Christmas.”

  He kissed her. Sweet and pure and fit for the whole family to witness—if she was his bride-to-be, which, of course, she was.

  It wasn’t until she’d pulled away and rested her cheek upon his shoulder that Gus realized his first love, Effie, sat across the room, holding her husband’s hand.

  Nothing had ever felt quite so right.

  The family—quite out of character for the reverence of their traditional gift-giving—erupted into applause.

  Brothers whistled. A couple little girls pushed to their feet and jumped up and down with the buoyancy only toddlers had. Caroline touched her fingertips to her eyes, blotting away a tear or two.

  Noelle slipped her hands into the curls in his over-long hair. Her soft smile made him reconsider.

  Perhaps he liked Christmas.

  With her, he imagined, he might learn to like Christmas a great deal.

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  A Note From The Author

  The Marshal’s Surrender—“Gus’s Story”—has been simmering on the back burner for more than two years. The tentative title began as A Christmas Courtship, then morphed to The Sheriff’s Surrender, and eventually became the best-fitting (IMHO) The Marshal’s
Surrender.

  Why did it have to cook “for a month of Sundays”?

  Ummm…..?

  Perhaps my best answer is a combination of what I suspect and what I know.

  First, I suspect this book was harder to write than many of my previous efforts. “Harder” in the sense that many of the issues both Gus and Noelle combat in order to feel worthy of love and dare take the risk with each other, hoping that their relationship just might grow roots and last are more my own than previous characters. You could say much of my heart is in this story.

  Secondly, I know many readers are less enamored of “Christmas Stories” than I am. I could happily read Christmas-set stories at least every-other-title. Something about Christmas Romances fill my heart with contentment—just what sweet western historical romance should do (once the characters battle through their challenges, difficulties, grow, learn, and commit of course). Christmas-themed romances tend to have elements of family, trust, honor, giving, awareness of the needs of others, faith and so much more. Those themes always appeal to me, set at Christmastime or not.

  When all is said and done, I’m so pleased to finally have The Marshal’s Surrender ready to share with you.

  So, not to change topics suddenly or anything… but is Marshal spelled with one L, or Marshall, with two? According to Merriam-Webster, marshal is correct (in American English), and a variant spelling (less commonly) is marshall. The U.S. Marshals Service website spells their name with one L. Given Gus served as a U.S. Marshal, it made sense to follow their lead.

  Apparently a double-l is used in some European countries. Wikipedia gives an answer that disagrees with most online dictionaries (so does this mean we don’t trust Wikipedia?). Ultimately, Marshall is the more common spelling of surnames, and either spelling is passable when referencing the law enforcement role. I’m writing several brief blog articles specifically about the fascinating history of the U.S. Marshals. I hope you’ll stop by and enjoy these tidbits from American history that set the stage for Gus’s law enforcement experience prior to Mountain Home and his job as Sheriff.

  This month, December 2016, I have a shorter novella prepared as a gift to readers. This Noelle is a prequel of sorts to the Holidays in Mountain Home Series (book #0.5) that will be available only as a gift to subscribers to my newsletter. Why? Because I genuinely want to give generously to my readers. This story, set in Mountain Home, Colorado in 1881, is about 20 years earlier than the other 4 numbered books in the series, and 1 ½ years after the unnumbered novella connected to the series—Courting Miss Cartwright. All you have to do to add yourself to my holiday gift-giving list is to sign up for my once-in-a-while newsletter (I promise to safeguard your email address, never share/rent/give/disclose/sell it to anyone else, and to send newsletters only when I have something to say I think you might like to hear. Every emailed newsletter has an “unsubscribe” link so it’s easy to disconnect if you don’t want to hear from me anymore.

  I’m toying with the idea of committing to a new, available-only-to-my-newsletter subscribers novella for each and every upcoming Christmas. Would you like that? Drop me a note through my website, or send me a direct email if you prefer [Kristin (at) KristinHolt (dot) com]. Note: Kristin is e-free! I enjoy hearing from readers and do my best to respond to every last (reasonable) email from readers. So, if you have feedback, ideas, an answer to my question (about an annual holiday gift through my newsletter), questions (upcoming book releases, for example), or just want to say hi, please contact me. I’ll enjoy hearing from you.

  Oh—if you’re reading this well past December 2016, please know that This Noelle will be available somewhere. If it’s no longer the exclusive gift to newsletter subscribers, I’ve probably made it available elsewhere. Check out my Books page on my website for links to all of my titles.

  If you enjoyed The Marshal’s Surrender or other books I’ve written, you might want to bookmark my Books page and check back often. I have several books coming out right after these two Christmas titles. Pleasance’s First Love (Book #3 in Six Brides for Six Gideons AND #6 in a new multi-author series Grandma’s Wedding Quilts) debuts on January 13, 2017. Gunsmoke and Gingham, a multi-author boxed set containing my title, The Gunsmith’s Bride, will publish on February 1, 2017. And on February 24, 2017, Mirror Press (who published Mail Order Bride Collection: A Timeless Romance Anthology—containing my title, WANTED: Midwife Bride—and made the USA Today Bestseller List!) brings you my title, Sophia’s Leap-Year Courtship. All five of these titles are NEW, never-before released, and will hopefully bring you as much enjoyment reading them as I had in writing them.

  Wishing you and yours a most joyful holiday season. May the light of Christmas last a little longer in your heart this year.

  With warmest appreciation,

  from Kristin Holt

  My great grandma was born in 1896. While this recipe is attributed to her, family lore is she made chicken and dumplings the way her mother did… so this recipe is an oldie and a goodie. I’ll provide the recipe in the old-fashioned “down-home” way, then with modern day modifications that make preparing this pioneer favorite much easier.

  This recipe is easily adjusted to the size/appetite of your family. Make as small or as large a pot as you wish, with the ratio of chicken to vegetables that you prefer.

  First, make the soup ~

  1 whole chicken (cleaned, bled), boiled and deboned— do not discard the stock!

  2 quarts stock from simmering the chicken, strained if you wish

  Salt and pepper to taste

  7 to 8 sliced carrots

  5 to 6 potatoes, cubed (if soup isn’t soup without potatoes…grandma left them out)

  Boil chicken. Discard liquid, skin, and bones. Cut cooked chicken into bite-sized pieces.

  Heat broth with vegetables and pieces of chicken until it comes to a boil.

  Meanwhile, prepare dumplings.

  ½ cup real dairy butter

  1 ½ cups milk

  1 ¾ cups flour

  3 eggs

  3 Tbsp. sugar

  3 Tbsp. real dairy butter

  ½ cup milk

  Heaping ½ cup flour

  1 egg

  1 Tbsp. sugar

  Melt butter in a frying pan. Remove pan from heat. Stir in milk and flour until it forms a paste. Return to heat and fry dough until it turns translucent and opaque.

  Crack egg(s) into mixing bowl. Add sugar. Add milk/flour mixture. With an electric mixer (I’m sure grandma whipped it with a wooden spoon), whip all ingredients together until smooth.

  Drop dumplings by tablespoonfuls into boiling soup in an even single layer across surface.

  Boil soup for 10 minutes with lid on. Uncover and boil another 10 minutes without lid.

  Use 1 whole stewing chicken, or even easier, IQF (Individually Quick Frozen) chicken breasts, OR a rotisserie chicken, deboned.

  Substitute canned chicken broth, or better yet Better Than Bouillon

  Peeled, washed baby carrots

  A fun and informative site about the history of dumplings: http://www.kitchenproject.com/history/Dumplings/

  This Noelle is my Christmas 2016 gift to my newsletter subscribers. It’s easy to sign up, and my every-once-in-a-while newsletters always contain an “un-subscribe” link, should you ever get to the point where you no longer wish to hear from me.

  At the time of publication, This Noelle is only available as a gift to subscribers. Down the road I might make it available on Amazon or my website as a download… or not. That’s how much I’d love to have you register for my newsletter and enjoy! I safeguard your private information. I hate spam as much as you do!

  Note: It doesn’t matter if Christmas 2016 has passed… this book will still be a gift to new subscribers. Come join the fun!

  A Sweet Historical Western Holiday Romance Novella (Rated PG)

  Holidays in Mountain Home, Prequel, Book #0.5

  Note: Noelle, Gus’s bride in The Marshal’s Surrender, is a new baby an
d the namesake of This Noelle.

  Books in this series are loosely connected and may be read in any order.

  Colorado 1881

  A Surprise Delivery...

  Caroline Finlay never knew losing a child so soon after his birth would wreak lasting damage on her heart and her marriage. She's coping, barely, until she learns her husband, Phil, has a secret that could shatter their future... a secret suddenly made very public.

  A Christmas Baby...

  Phil Finlay thought he'd never have to confess his greatest mistake... until a young man shows up on the church steps, the Sunday before Christmas with a newborn baby girl, and announces Phil's her father. It's snowing. The baby is in desperate need of care. Whether it's his or not—and she might well be—he's out of time and has no choice but to confess he sought solace in the arms of another woman.

  How dare he burden his heartbroken wife with the care of a baby... his baby... born of an illicit affair?

  ...A Season of Miracles.

  Is it possible for marriage, strained by the loss of a newborn son, to survive the appearance of an illegitimate daughter?

  What would you do?

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