A Baby Under the Christmas Tree (Preview)

Chapter One

“This storm is going to be a bad one. I don’t like the way those clouds are rolling in and the air is cold enough to freeze the devil.”

Adrian looked to the dark sky, dusky blue clouds rolling and blocking out the stars, their bottoms heavy with the promise of a thick snow. At the end of November, blizzards in Swiftriver were an expectation, and getting the cattle and sheep into the barn before it struck was a necessity.

Though the animals were accustomed to the weather, there was no telling what could happen in the storm. If it became a total white-out, animals would get lost, the winds and the sheets of snow throwing them off and sending them in every direction.

Trying to round them up again would be difficult. He would likely find more than one head of cattle missing from the herd.

Norton stood beside him, tugging his scarf up higher to shield his face from the wind, his gray moustache still partially out. “Paul is workin’ on bringin’ the cattle in. I’ve got two more horses saddled to go out and help him.”

Adrian nodded, grabbing one set of reins and swinging himself up onto the bigger of the two horses. “We’ll need to hurry. When this one strikes, it’s gonna be a bad one.”

He looked to the left and right of the sprawling fields, seeing young Paul already riding at the back of the herd, urging the cattle toward the massive barn.

After the fire eleven years ago, it had taken Adrian and Norton nearly three weeks to rebuild the barn. He had wanted one that was bigger than the previous one by nearly triple the size, and with it his herd had grown.

If Adrian’s father had survived the fire, he would be proud to see that the ranch he had once only dreamed of was now bigger than ever before. There were no neighbors in sight. Sheep and cattle roamed the fields, sticking within the confines of the fence and the trees beyond that. The nearest neighbor was Norton and his son Paul, and they were still nearly four miles away.

Norton clicked his tongue after getting settled on his horse, leading the way through the pasture and bringing up the right side of the herd. “Geraldine’ll be glad to have us home. She was up and prayin’ this morning when I left. Thinks somethin’ bad is goin’ to happen. Should’ve left for her sister’s after I was gone. Supposed to help deliver a baby.”

Adrian hummed and rounded one of the cattle back to the herd when it tried to jog away. “She’s right to worry. Hopefully she makes it to her sister’s before the storm begins. Winters around here are sent from the devil. You know that.”

“Don’t let her hear you say that.” Norton snorted and jerked his chin in the direction of a dark shape near the fence. “Looks like one of the sheep might’ve gotten loose.”

“I’ve got it.”

Adrian gripped the reins and turned his horse, urging it faster as the first flakes of snow fell. He pulled a scarf over his mouth, trying to keep out the cold while the air seemed to turn to ice around him.

The wind sent the snow flying, the world becoming a white blur.

He squinted. It was hard to see, but he looked for the sheep, a cry coming through the white haze in front of him.

It’s too early for lambing.

None of the sheep would be crying out in distress at the storm. They were used to the Colorado weather. The animals would huddle together to keep warm, turning their backsides to the wind.

He frowned, eyes narrowed. He tried to find the dark shape once more, but nothing was there.

A shiver ran up his spine, making the hair on the back of his neck stand. It felt like there were eyes boring into his back but when he glanced over his shoulder, there was nothing there.

His skin crawled as he looked around again. There had to be someone or something watching him. It was the only explanation for the way he felt as he continued through the pasture.

And yet, no matter how many times he looked, there wasn’t anybody there.

But someone had to make that sound.

Either that, or Geraldine was right and living alone was starting to do his head in

When he turned into the pasture with the sheep, the cry came again. It had to be the wind whistling through the pine trees.

Though the queasy feeling in Adrian’s stomach told him otherwise. He rode through the sheep pasture to their barn, checking the lock on the door to find it still in place and the animals secured.

He turned and worked his way along the fence line toward the house as the world around him grew brighter, the sheets of falling snow masking out the night sky.

The cry came again, louder this time as he made his way closer to the other side of the pasture and the tree line.

He leaped from his horse, boots landing in the slick mud and nearly sending him tumbling to the ground.

Adrian righted himself, his heart hammering in his chest. It felt like a wild stallion as he climbed over the fence, listening for the noise once more.

When it came again, he crouched low to the ground.

At the base of one of the largest trees, there was a dark shape nestled between two rocks, sheltered from the wind.

What in the devil is a baby doing on my property?

Adrian took the child carefully, holding it close while unbuttoning his jacket. He slipped the baby inside and tried to warm it up.

Not a single soul was near the rocks other than himself and the child. Even if there had been someone there, he might not have seen them with the thick snow.

“Shush,” he said, his tone low and soft as he took off his scarf and used it to tie the baby to him. “Everything will be alright. We’re going to take you back to the barn. Norton will be there. He’ll know what to do.”

Adrian held the baby tight and got back on the horse.

He rode as if his life depended on it, knowing that he needed to get the baby somewhere warm and safe, though beyond that he had no clue how to care for it.

“Norton! Paul!”

The barn was empty when he dropped down from his horse and walked inside. He looked in the tack room, but the father and son weren’t there either.

Adrian let out an aggravated sigh, trying to think clearly even as the panic bubbled to the surface in his chest. If there was an award for the worst person to care for a child, he would win.

He hadn’t spent much time around babies, and the thought of trying to care for one had him frozen in place.

“What am I going to do with you now?” he asked, bouncing the baby as it began to fuss again. “You’re probably hungry, but I don’t know what to feed you. I don’t have any milk.”

This was a disaster. Geraldine would be the best woman to ask. With the storm growing, he could try to make it to Norton’s, but the house was set far back from the road.

In town he would be able to find the baby more help. The sheriff was bound to be at either his office or his home.

The doctor should be in town too.

“At least the sheriff might be able to find your family. And there’s a clear road to follow with fences on either side of it.”

If he traveled to town, he would be less likely to get lost in the storm.

And Geraldine was supposed to travel today.

He groaned, the only semblance of a plan he had falling apart. Norton might still be of some help, but he doubted it would be as good as Geraldine.

There were still other options though.

Town.

It was where people often sought to mock him. Moreso the children than the adults, but he still heard the whispers behind his back on the rare occasions he was there.

It was as if the burns on his skin had been placed there just for the townspeople to talk about.

Most of the rumors and the stories people told had died off over the years, but there were always one or two people who couldn’t seem to get past the fact that Adrian’s face and hands were scarred. They thought it was their duty to talk about the way he’d lost his family, offering him their pity even though it was the last thing he wanted from any of them.

The baby needed to go to town though. He needed to be around people who understood how to raise a baby.

And the sheriff might know the child and who his parents were.

As he shifted the baby within his jacket, the blanket slipped, and the child made a small growling noise.

Adrian cupped the back of the baby’s head, soft dark hair sliding against his fingers. “It’s going to be all right, little bear. We’re going to take you to the sheriff and he’s going to know what to do.”

At least, Adrian hoped he would.

Chapter Two

Two weeks in a frozen Swiftriver was making Roxie long for the winters of Philadelphia, where the air was cold, but the wind was not so biting. She stepped into the thick boots she kept by the door, pulling on her wool jacket as the wind howled outside.

Perhaps it would be better to stay in the schoolhouse for the night.

Although, the little building was nearly out of firewood, and she wouldn’t receive another delivery until morning.

It would be better to return to the boarding house and hope she didn’t get too cold while walking there. The town wouldn’t be happy to lose their new teacher to the cold and she couldn’t imagine meeting her grandmother in heaven and telling her that the cold killed her.

Her grandmother deserved a better story than that when they finally met again, though Roxie hoped that wouldn’t be for a good many years yet. She still had too much life to live and an endless amount of adventure still calling her name.

It was part of the reason she moved to Swiftriver in the first place.

After pulling on a thick wool hat and yanking on a pair of even warmer mittens, she hauled open the door to the schoolhouse, shutting it behind her. The wind tugged at her immediately, pulling on the looser pieces of her clothing, trying to seep through to her bones.

It felt as if her cheeks were wet and being slapped again and again.

Maybe I should’ve found out what the winters were like in Colorado before taking the teaching position.

She held to the railing for dear life, navigating the icy steps while the wind sent a flurry of snow in a rapid little tornado around her. Roxie pulled her scarf up as high as she could, covering her nose and mouth.

I can do this.

As she put one foot in front of the other, walking down Main Street the way she had every day for the last three days, she thought about the warm soup the boarding house would have prepared by the time she got there. Mrs. Beadle had been chopping up carrots and potatoes when Roxie left in the morning, promising to keep a bowl to the side for her.

Each step she took felt like she was walking through an eternity. Dark blurs lined either side of her vision, but she couldn’t make out the shops with the snow falling as hard as it was.

A dark shape appeared on the horizon in front of her, growing larger and taking form rapidly. Hooves thundered down the road, barely audible over the howling wind.

The rider kept going, passing her as she neared the boarding house. She kept her hands stuffed deep in her pockets, the icy air tearing through the layers of her clothing. Soon she would be in the warmth of the boarding house.

She wished it was spring, but there would still be several months before the snow melted and gave way to fresh flowers.

I may not survive the winter until then.

Although she knew the thought was a touch dramatic, she couldn’t help herself. It was cold and she longed to be by the fire after an exhausting day of teaching. Her students were wonderful, and with the winter had come the children in their teens returning for their lessons. The previous schoolteacher had left a note about it for Roxie on her first day.

Three days into teaching and she was happy to see the teens, even if there were a couple older boys who delighted in pranks and jokes.

They liked to spend their free time teasing the teen girls, taunting them and pretending that they weren’t at the age where things like romance and marriage started to enter their minds.

At twenty-four, Roxie remembered those days even if she felt they were past her now. She wasn’t a woman to fall in love easily, and the failure that was her previous engagement proved that.

Between the man who wanted to control her life and her desire to be free, she should’ve known from the beginning that she would be left a spinster. However, if there was anyone that could convince her love might still exist, it would be the boys and girls who would spend the next several months dancing around each other before they started to pair off and court.

Roxie smiled at the thought of teaching her students’ children in only a few years.

As she turned toward the boarding house, she heard the hooves closer to her this time before a horse came to a halting stop in front of her. Its warm breath came out in puffs of white clouds.

Roxie took a step back. Her mouth went dry at the sudden appearance.

The horse carried a solo rider, a man with a hat tipped low over his face and shaggy hair hanging loose beneath it in frozen strands.

She stopped, watching the man’s hand slip between the opening in the buttons of his jacket. There was an odd twitch to it. It was as if he was trying to retrieve something from deep within the layers that swaddled him.

Is he reaching for a gun?

Before her passing, her grandmother had warned her about the rough men that lived in Colorado. Most carried guns and wouldn’t hesitate to use them if they thought there was something to be gained from it.

Roxie took a step back, holding up both her hands. “I don’t mean you any harm. Please let me go.”

The hat tilted upward, but she still couldn’t make out the man beneath it. “I’m not going to hurt you. Have you seen the sheriff?”

Her heart pounded as she stared up at him. “No.”

He made a rumbling noise low in his throat, at odds with the warm and smooth voice he had spoken to her in. “He wasn’t at his office. You sure you haven’t seen him?”

“No. I haven’t.” Roxie took another step back. “I’ll tell him you’re looking for him if I do happen to see him. What’s your name?”

Before he could answer, a cry came from deep within his jacket.

Roxie’s fear forgotten, she planted her hands on her hips. “What are you doing out in the cold with a baby? It isn’t safe for them! Surely you must know that.”

The man swung down from the horse, taking the reins in one hand and keeping the other tucked deep within his jacket. “Didn’t have much of a choice.”

Roxie gasped when he pulled the coat to the side, showing off the blanket-wrapped bundle. “Why on earth would you bring a child that young out in this storm? Are you mad? That baby couldn’t be more than six months old!”

“I know. I didn’t want to bring him out here, but I don’t have much of a choice,” the man said his tone sharper than the wind. “I don’t have anything to care for a baby. Thought the sheriff could help.”

“Come with me to the boarding house. We can at least get the child warm.” Roxie softened, stepping closer to the man and leaning forward to get a better look at the child. “You’re going to want to keep the wind off him the best that you can.”

He stepped back, glaring at her and buttoning his jacket higher. His scarf remained tied around his waist outside the coat while the tasseled ends dangled free in the wind.

A clever way to support the baby.

She stared at him for a moment, but she still couldn’t make out any of his features with the storm raging on around them.

As she led the way through the snow and over to the boarding house, she looked over her shoulder. The man followed behind her without saying a word, his horse trailing behind him.

The boarding house rose in front of them within a couple more feet, a yellow glow cast through the windows illuminating the mounds of snow gathering on the front porch.

Roxie waited for the man to secure his horse before pushing open the door.

Mrs. Beadle came out of the back room, wiping her hands on her beige apron. “Roxanne, I was expecting you back hours ago. I was nearly about to send out a search party for you.”

“I thought about staying at the schoolhouse, but my wood delivery is later.” Roxie took off her hat, letting her curly black hair fall free, a couple of the pins from her hair clattering to the floor. “And I’ve told you to call me Roxie a thousand times already.”

The man stooped to pick them up at the same time she did. Their hands brushed and his gaze connected with hers through the shadow cast by his hat. A shiver ran down her spine, but she knew it was from the way the man was looking at her and not the cold.

His head tipped to the side and the light shining about the room was enough to illuminate his face, showing off scarring along his cheeks and climbing its way up to his forehead.

Even with the puckered lines on his face, he was still a handsome man, though a little rough around the edges.

Roxie took a ragged breath while he snatched the pins.

“Mr. Tackett!” Mrs. Beadle grinned as he stood and handed the pins to Roxie. “I didn’t know that I would be expecting you this evening! You must sit and have a bowl of soup.”

He cleared his throat and unbuttoned his jacket. “Actually, I’ve got another problem.”

“The baby is not a problem,” Roxie said, scolding him as if he were another student in one of her classes. “Mrs. Beadle, can we keep the child here for the night? Mr. Tackett brought the baby through the storm looking for help and the sheriff is nowhere to be found.”

Mrs. Beadle reached for the baby, taking him from Mr. Tackett. “Of course. We’ll keep the child warm and fed, and in the morning, I’ll hunt down Sheriff Pete. He’s likely out at one of the farms on the other side of town. There was a robbery only a few days ago.”

Mr. Tackett nodded, clearing his throat and taking a step backward toward the door. “Thank you. I should be going before the storm gets much worse.”

Roxie walked with the man to the door, holding it open for him as he untied the scarf and wrapped it back around his face. All that was visible were his bright green eyes—the same color as a field on the last day of spring—staring at her.

She watched him as he walked down the steps and into the storm.

He turned to her once more before he climbed on his horse, and in that moment, her heart felt as if it was knocking on her ribs and trying to get out.

As he rode away, she stifled the urge to call after him.

Chapter Three

Norton’s suspicious gaze made Adrian squirm as they fed the last of the sheep. “You have to go to town this mornin’?”

“Yes. There should be word from the livestock merchant in Kansas.”

“It’s the off-season,” Paul said as he walked by carrying a bale of hay over one broad shoulder. “Why would there be word from the merchant?”

“Out of here with you,” Norton said, motioning to the door. “You’ve got cattle to feed.”

Paul took off out the door before his father could give him another scolding.

Adrian seized the opportunity to get on his horse, tipping his hat low. “I shouldn’t be more than the day at most, but there are other things I want to check on while I’m in town.”

“I’ve never known you to want to spend much time in town.”

“I don’t.”

Norton leaned against one of the stall doors, laughing when the horse behind him nuzzled his shoulder. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you have a woman in town.”

The comment called back an image of the woman from the night before with her long chocolate waves and eyes to match. She had been wrapped in more clothing than he had seen in his life, but there was still a dip to her waist and a curve to her hips that had been noticeable when she bent over.

“I saw that look on your face,” Norton said, smirking and taking off his gloves and set them on a bay of hale near the door. “There’s a woman, isn’t there?”

“No, there’s not.” Adrian’s tone was firm as he pulled up the bandana to cover his mouth and nose. It was warmer out this morning, but there was still a fresh blanket of snow and a cold wind to contend with.

He glowered at the old man in front of him as Norton gave him a knowing look.

Though Norton clearly didn’t believe him, Adrian told him the truth.

While he thought the woman in town was beautiful, he was certain that her quick temper and the way she looked on the verge of taking off heads was a deterrent to most men.

She had certainly looked ready enough to dismember him for taking a baby out in the cold before finding out he had a good reason to do so.

Norton chuckled and grabbed a bucket of water, heading to the trough to break through the layer of ice. “I doubt that, but you can keep your secrets for now. I won’t push you, but I think it’d be good for you to let someone in.”

Adrian snorted. “You sound like your wife.”

“She has some good points about you.”

With a roll of his eyes, Adrian rode out of the stable and into the crisp morning air. The few small birds that hadn’t migrated flitted through the trees, calling out to each other as the sun shone bright overhead.

The snow glittered as Adrian rode toward town, wondering if he would see the beautiful woman again.

There was a part of him that hoped he didn’t. He couldn’t remember her name. He had been too busy staring at her and wondering who the imp who thought to scold him for having a baby out in a storm was.

He sighed and rode to the post office first, checking with the postmaster for any letters from Kansas.

“Nothing.” The postmaster stared at him for a few seconds too long and Adrian turned and walked out of the office.

It wasn’t the first time that someone had stared at his scars, and he doubted it would be the last.

But the woman last night hadn’t stared.

He knew she had seen them—she was too close not to—but she hadn’t said anything about them. Her gaze hadn’t lingered before she was off on the next matter of business without so much as a question about the markings.

Adrian walked out of the office and into the street, watching the people mill about in front of some of the shops, talking to each other while children rushed around throwing snow.

I should head back home.

Instead, he found his feet taking him to the boarding house. He didn’t know why, but he felt compelled in that direction. Perhaps it was to see if the baby was all right after the cold last night.

Before he could climb the steps, Sheriff Pete stepped into his path.

“I heard from Mrs. Beadle and Miss Roxie that you were the one who found the baby.”

Adrian nodded, looking past him at the boarding house.

So that’s the woman’s name.

Sheriff Pete sighed, putting his hands on his slim hips, his broad chest puffing out. “Where did you find the child? I asked Miss Roxie, but she said she didn’t know.”

“Someone left the baby between some rocks on my property at the end of the sheep pasture closest to the house.” Adrian glanced toward the schoolhouse at the other end of Main Street as the bell above the door began to toll.

Standing on the front steps was Roxie, smiling to students while they rushed by her.

“Adrian, I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you more questions about the child. Nobody I’ve spoken to so far knows where it came from and it’s rather odd that he was left on your property instead of in town.”

“Who is Miss Roxie?” Adrian asked, glossing over what the sheriff had just said to him. “I trust Mrs. Beadle, but this Roxie woman, was she safe to leave the baby with?”

Sheriff Pete chuckled. “Come with me. You can see for yourself that the baby is in good hands and then we can talk about why a baby would be left on your property.”

Adrian nodded, not saying anything as they walked down the road to the white clapboard schoolhouse. Smoke puffed out of the chimney, the last children filtering inside.

Roxie smiled when he and the sheriff strode toward her. Her entire face lit up with the expression, the corners of her eyes wrinkling slightly, the little bow above her top lip just a little crooked.

It wasn’t enough for anyone to notice at an immediate glance, but when he studied her, he saw it.

That tiny imperfection only made her that much more beautiful.

She stood tall for a woman, nodding to the young men who passed her and filtered into the school. “Sheriff Pete, back again so soon?”

The sheriff tipped his hat to her. “I found Adrian in town, and he was wondering how the baby was doing. Mind if he steps in to see him quickly?”

“Not at all.” Roxie stood to the side and motioned at the open door. “He’s in the bassinet beside my desk. Please, go on in while I round up the last of my students.”

Adrian climbed the stairs, keeping his head down and his hat tipped. He hovered at the door, not wanting to listen to the children in the room whisper. These were the same ones who ran to his property in the summer, each daring the other to see who could get the closest before they got scared.

“Is something the matter, Mr. Tackett?” Roxie asked, her voice as soft as her smile. “You needn’t worry about the children. They may be quite feral at times, but I promise they are good kids and won’t bite.”

He had a hard time believing that. It was clear that she didn’t know the same children he had come to know.

Adrian stepped inside and heads turned.

The children stared at him like he was a creature released into the schoolhouse for their pleasure—or horror. Mouths dropped open before they started turning to each other and whispering.

Their voices were too soft to make out what they were saying, but he was certain it was the same taunts they always made. They would speak about his burns and the length of his hair, teasing each other until someone got brave and tried to get close to him.

He wasn’t sure why their parents were unaware of their children’s actions. Or perhaps it was that they were aware and simply didn’t care.

In the end, it was all the same.

Adrian hovered at the back of the room, not sure whether to enter and go see the baby or turn and leave. He had no business being there and the baby shouldn’t have been his concern in the first place.

Roxie walked into the room, her dark blue skirt sweeping across the floor. “What is going on in here?”

The smile was gone and her expression as stern as her tone, catching the attention of the students immediately. They all twisted in their seats, looking down at the slates and chalk in front of them.

“I want you all to practice your arithmetic while I speak with the sheriff and Mr. Tackett. When I come back into this room, I expect you all to be done with the equations on the chalkboard.”

The students got to work, chalk scratching against slate as Roxie walked to the front of the room and scooped up the baby from the bassinet. She smiled at him, bouncing him before putting him on her hip and joining Adrian and Sheriff Pete at the other end of the room.