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  FAITH’S RESCUE

  Christmas Rescue Series

  Book Seven

  Angela Lain

  Copyright 2019 Angela Lain

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner of this book.

  Christmas Rescue Series

  My book is the final one in this series of western-themed Christmas novels. Here’s where to find the rest of the series:

  https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B08121FXK3

  Many thanks to the other authors in this series, Susan Horsnell, Margaret Tanner, Elissa Strati, RaeAnne Hadley, P. Creeden, and particularly Cheryl Wright for all her help and encouragement. A big thank you to Virginia McKevitt for the beautiful covers she created for this series.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  CHAPTER ONE

  “Y ou have a girl,” Ella stated with conviction.

  Hawk stared into the dying fire. “I don’t know. I could have done, maybe. It was a while ago, she won’t still be waiting.”

  “You should go back and find out,” Ella ordered. “You can’t go on drifting forever. Go back and make her happy before it’s too late. I’ll take Roseanne to town.”

  The conversation had played over and over in his mind for days. He had ridden away from the homestead leaving behind a young girl who thought she wanted to marry him, and a mother who knew it would be a mistake. He had known it would be a mistake. He didn’t love Roseanne, she was beautiful, but she was a child, barely fifteen.

  When he had told Ella he was riding away, she had uttered those fateful words.

  ‘You have a girl.’

  But he didn’t.

  Hawk had done something foolish; falling in love with the wife of the best friend you had ever had was not the best way to be happy!

  There had been another girl since he’d fallen for Beth, or at least there could have been. He knew Faith had been attracted, but he’d given her no real encouragement, at the time he had been too sick at heart over Beth. There had been no future in it anyhow; Faith’s father would never have entertained the idea of her marrying a half-breed Comanche.

  He’d been right to leave, to deny any such involvement, but there were times when he sat by his lonely campfire at night and saw her amber eyes in the flames. He knew it was far too late for such thoughts; it was more than two years since he had ridden away from New Mexico.

  Born of a white father and a Comanche mother, Daniel Black Hawk’s parentage was obvious to anyone with half an eye. He was a striking young man in his late twenties; tall and slim, with whipcord muscles that hinted at considerable strength, his skin was coppery dark, his hair was black as a crow’s wing and his eyes a deep, dark brown. Certainly, everywhere he travelled the ladies were inclined to give him a lot more than one glance, but in the early 1880’s the frontier had seen too much indian trouble for him to be immediately acceptable. As a result there were few men, or women, that Daniel Black Hawk counted as his friends.

  But in one tiny corner of Colorado, beneath the mountain’s edge, was a small ranch, the only place he could call home. There he was always welcomed, and to there he would return to visit his godson, Danny, and Joe Little Owl, the young man he considered an adopted brother. Beth and Morgan Kincade would greet him with open arms, and he could have a home for life if he wanted. But he couldn’t settle, each time he tried he would stay for a while, but he would grow restless. Always he rode away. He wasn’t ready, not yet.

  Should he go there for the winter? There was already a great deal of snow on the mountain tops, soon travelling would be difficult. He could help with the ranch work, and have a comfortable bed for the winter months. He had already missed Thanksgiving, maybe he should go back for Christmas? It would be warm and friendly, the food would be good, and the children would be excited. A family time indeed. Would he fit in?

  Or should he ride on? Back to New Mexico?

  Ella’s words had struck a chord. Previously he had dismissed returning south, all his wanderings had been to the north. He had strayed into some strange lands, and seen some wonderful sights. The valley of the Yellowstone had been a magical place. The ground steamed, and jets of water shot into the sky in places. People travelled to see these wonderful sights, men were making a living guiding rich visitors around the geysers.

  He had considered becoming such a guide, indeed he had joined one party for a few days. But the job involved dealing with too many people, too many rich, entitled men who looked down on him, or regarded him with suspicion due to his heritage. Hawk had decided it was not for him, and had ridden away, again.

  What was the future for him? Was there any place he could stay and build a life? Was he destined to drift forever? The idea depressed him, growing old out here, alone but for his horse. He needed space and freedom, but did he need isolation and loneliness?

  He tipped his hat against the morning sun and rode on to the south, still not certain of where he was going.

  ***

  Hawk moved closer to the fireplace and stared moodily into his beer. A cold wind rattled the window frames, it was the beginning of December and winter was setting in. This saloon was a haven from the cold. Like so many others, it was relatively clean, the girls looked pretty enough, but it wasn’t enough.

  Finally he accepted what his heart had been telling him for weeks, he needed to go back to that town in New Mexico. In terms of distances he had travelled, it wasn’t that far. For weeks his wanderings had led him closer to the ultimate goal, even if he’d not consciously planned things that way.

  Faith.

  She was haunting his dreams.

  He had to go and find out the truth.

  He suspected she would not be there, she would be married, she might even have a baby by this time. He would hardly be happy about it, but at least he would know, at least he could stop thinking, and wondering, and seeing her eyes in the campfire every night.

  CHAPTER TWO

  F aith Duncan sat at her bedroom window watching the fingers of light begin to spread over the sky. No-one stirred, the smoke rose in a lazy curl from the bunkhouse chimney, where the hands would most likely be eating their breakfast.

  She felt so trapped; trapped in the beautiful house she had come to appreciate more than she had ever imagined she might. Leaving the home where she had spent her childhood had been emotional. She had expected her father to rebuild their house after the fire, but he had decided to move here instead. It had seemed odd to take over the property of the man who had instigated the range war and caused them so much heartache. But maybe her father saw it as a sort of victory? Marston was dead, and Craig Duncan now ruled supreme.

  As to the house, their old home had burned; it had been a rustic, rather masculine place, comfortable but with none of the sophistication of this property.

  Faith had wondered if her father had moved from their old home to leave behind associations with her long dead mother. She had vanished, presumed taken by the indians, when her brother Flynn had been a small baby. She had been barely three years old and could remember little of the woman who had birthed her. Her father had taken it hard and had never been a particularly happy man. She had hoped this house might change things, and it had, in a way. Her father was now happy, while she w
as miserable and getting desperate.

  When she had first come here she had been unhappy, broken hearted in fact. The man she had believed she loved had ridden away, and taken a piece of her heart with him. Over the next two years life had improved and her heart had healed, until last summer, when her father had remarried. Then the rot had set in!

  She moved to her closet and pulled out her britches. She had been patient, she had done as she was asked, she had tried, she really had, but it just wasn’t her. The truth was she was no lady, she was a cowgirl at heart, and flouncy dresses and pretty hairdos were not her style. Defiantly she pulled on the britches, she had not worn them since the day Mrs. Claudia Moffett, Widow Moffett, as Faith always thought rather derisively, had married her father and come to live on the CD ranch.

  She dressed swiftly, tied her tawny hair back with a rawhide thong, and headed outside into the cold dawn. She was going to ride her pony, and she was going to do it in her britches! The cold wind and deepening winter was not going to stop her.

  Maybe riding could give her a better perspective on things, but this house no longer felt like her home, it felt like her jail cell.

  Widow Moffett, now Mrs. Craig Duncan, had arrived in Broken Ridge from Philadelphia last spring. Why she should have chosen this small town, way north of Santa Fe, and lacking in the refinements to which she was accustomed, was anybody’s guess. The Duncan family had met her at the Easter social in town. Faith had not realized at first that their attendance at every subsequent social, every third Saturday, had not been for her benefit. Her father had said it was time she got out more, met young men and possibly found a suitor, and she had believed his words.

  It was early-summer before she saw the writing on the wall, her father was smitten. Widow Moffett had come west for one reason only, to find herself a husband, a rich one if at all possible. Craig Duncan fit the bill admirably.

  Faith and her brother Flynn had been happy for him, if he could find solace in a new wife, they would be supportive. But it was difficult, and Faith had become an expert in the art of biting her tongue. She had known it wouldn’t be simple to hand over the running of this household to another woman. There had been nursemaids and housekeepers until Faith had reached the age of fourteen, then she had become the mistress of her father’s household. She had accepted it could not continue, but she had hoped to bow out gracefully; that had not happened.

  The moment the new Mrs. Duncan entered her domain and took over the reins, Faith’s life had become less than desirable. Her new step-mother tried to rule her, and every single thing she did was wrong. She was, in a nutshell, too unladylike to ever be acceptable. She was no longer allowed to appear around the house in anything but a dress, she had to do her hair properly, no braids, no pony tails. The only time she was allowed to wear her split skirt was when she rode, her britches were absolutely forbidden, and she had to change the moment she stepped back into the house.

  She was twenty-one years old, dammit. Surely she should be able to make her own decisions on such things? But no, her step-mother had been handed the reins of power within the house, and her father allowed it to happen. The woman had blinded him!

  As for riding on the range and helping the hands with the cattle… that was not allowed.

  Faith had argued, long and hard. She was a rancher’s daughter, she worked with the cowhands, she needed to know what was occurring. But it cut no ice with Mrs. Claudia Duncan; she had her new husband wrapped around her little finger, he agreed with her diktat. Faith was devastated.

  She saddled her pony and escaped onto the range to feel the wind in her hair, this was the only place she could now feel free.

  ***

  Almost two hours later Faith sneaked back through the kitchen door, hoping to avoid her step-mother. She had ridden further and for longer than she had intended, now she needed to change and put her hair up if she was to avoid conflict. Dashing to the foot of the stairs, she was too late; barely had she set her foot on the lowest step when a voice rang out.

  “Faith! Come in to the breakfast room, this second!” Her step-mother’s tone was shrill and angry.

  Faith turned to look at her. “I was about to change.”

  “Come here. Now!”

  Faith moved reluctantly into the room, both her father and brother were seated at the table. Flynn shot her a despairing look, he knew what was coming.

  “How could you?” Claudia Duncan demanded. “A lady does not sneak out before dawn, and she does not wear… those things!” She waved a disgusted hand at Faith’s britches.

  “I’m not a lady.”

  “That’s well seen. I have tried so hard, Mr. Duncan. It is time you did something!”

  “Faith, you really must learn to make more effort,” her father reproved in a perturbed tone.

  It made Faith’s hackles rise, her step mother treated her like a child, while her father treated her like an idiot.

  “Anyhow, that is bye the bye. Your father and I have good news for you. Despite all your efforts to not be a lady, we have secured you an offer of marriage.”

  “What?” Faith couldn’t contain the incredulous exclamation. That was another thing her step-mother despised; she was constantly reprimanded about her uncouth speech and told she had to enunciate like a lady. Her comment had been far from what was required, but it reflected exactly what she felt.

  “Language, my dear,” her father censured.

  “Yes! Your father and I have come to an agreement with Mr. and Mrs. Shelton. It has been agreed that you will be betrothed to Mr. Edward Shelton, in his absence. You will be wed when he returns home from San Francisco a few days before Christmas.”

  “You have arranged for me to marry? Before Christmas? To a man I have never met?”

  “You most certainly have met him, he was present at two socials in the summer.”

  “I don’t recall meeting him. He is a man I know nothing about, and who obviously did not attract me enough for me to even bother to know him, the only times I might have met him!”

  “That is beside the point. He will be a good match. Mail order brides do this all the time, they get off the train and are married the same day, out of choice; it is an accepted way to make a match.”

  “Not for me,” Faith raised her voice, “You must be mad!”

  “Faith! Do not speak that way to you mother.”

  “She’s not my mother!” Faith’s voice rose higher. “She will never be my mother. My mother would never have wanted me to do such a thing.”

  “You can’t know that,” Claudia Duncan snapped. “She may well have been desperate to get rid of you by this time. You are one and twenty, well past marriageable age. I was married at seventeen and had both my girls before I was your age. As you know, they are both settled with gentlemen and my eldest has a child on the way.”

  “Maybe you should go back to Philadelphia so you can help her,” Faith returned rudely.

  Her father’s patience evaporated.

  “Go to your room,” he thundered. “Don’t come down again until you can present yourself properly, and apologize sincerely to your mother.”

  Faith spun around to leave, and caught Flynn’s expression; he widened his eyes, rolling them in a helpless gesture. She knew he sympathized, but there was nothing he could do to help, at nineteen, his opinion counted for very little as far as Claudia was concerned. She stamped from the room and ran up the stairs.

  She flopped onto her bed and stared at the ceiling. This could not be happening. It could not be true. They couldn’t have organized her wedding, the idea was preposterous. Her step-mother’s words echoed around her head. Would her own mother have been desperate to be rid of her? Certainly that was true of her step-mother.

  Mr. Edward Shelton. She recalled the name, but she was certain she could not put a face to that name. She had met Mr. Joseph Shelton, who must be his father; the man had set up a law practice in town as far as she could remember. This was almost worse than a mail order ma
rriage, at least you could write to a man a few times and make some sort of judgment about his character. Of course, a man might lie, but she had always thought herself pretty good at seeing a lie.

  It didn’t matter if she remembered him or not, she was not going to give in to this.

  There was a tap on the door.

  “Faith, it’s me.”

  “Come in, I’m decent.”

  The door opened to reveal her brother Flynn. He sat on the bed beside her. Younger by two years, he was everything a brother should be; loyal and supportive, he backed her to the hilt, but there were times that his support counted for very little.

  “I haven’t got long, the old man will be shouting. What are you going to do about this? Do you realize it is less than two weeks until Christmas? How can they expect you to do such a thing?”

  “Yes, I do realize the date! I don’t want to marry a man I don’t know, not if I can help it. Maybe he won’t want it any more than I do?”

  “I don’t know why you put with the way she treats you.”

  “What am I supposed to do? Cause even more rows? I don’t see you fighting with her.”

  “She doesn’t make me do things I don’t want to do! Why Faith? You’ve always fought back, why do you allow her to do it? You hate dresses.”

  “I don’t hate dresses in their right place. Cook wears a dress, Sally the maid wears a dress.”

  “But you never did, and I know you hate it.”

  “It’s not so much the dresses, it’s the fact I have to stay here and not work on the range.”

  “Exactly. Why not just saddle up and come out?”

  “Because father would send me back, you know that.” Faith sighed. “The truth is, until I find somewhere to go, I am trapped and penniless. What choice do I have?”

  “Flynn!” Her father’s voice was loud and impatient.