Christmas in Whispering Pines Read online

  CHRISTMAS IN WHISPERING PINES

  “Why don’t you tell me about some of your travels?”

  Emma placed the dishes she was carrying on the counter. “I doubt that would interest you very much.”

  Clay put one long arm on the counter next to her and leaned around to look into her eyes. “It interests me.”

  Looking into the depths of his amber eyes, Emma felt as though she couldn’t catch her breath. Her gaze traveled from his eyes to his mouth. He was grinning at her. A flirty, lopsided grin. Almost as if he knew she was thinking he was the most attractive man she’d ever laid eyes on. “Why?”

  Clay’s grin grew wider. “Do you always ask so many questions?”

  “Only when things don’t make sense,” she replied.

  She was truly a perplexing woman. “What doesn’t make sense?”

  “Why you seem to have an interest in me. That is, until Mrs. King always happens along. Are you the kind of man who simply enjoys flirting with women?”

  “Why, Emma, do you think I’m flirting with you?”

  What did he think he was doing pinning her to the counter and leaning down so close to her face that she could see the gold flecks in his beautiful eyes? “Aren’t you?” If he wasn’t a pastor, she might be inclined to pull his face to hers and give him a kiss he wouldn’t soon forget. That would probably shock him all the way back to his pulpit . . .

  Books by Scarlett Dunn

  The McBride Brothers Trilogy

  PROMISES KEPT

  FINDING PROMISE

  LAST PROMISE

  The Langtry Sisters Trilogy

  WHISPERING PINES

  RETURN TO WHISPERING PINES

  CHRISTMAS IN WHISPERING PINES

  CHRISTMAS AT DOVE CREEK

  Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation

  CHRISTMAS IN WHISPERING PINES

  SCARLETT DUNN

  ZEBRA BOOKS

  KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.

  http://www.kensingtonbooks.com

  All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

  Table of Contents

  CHRISTMAS IN WHISPERING PINES

  Also by

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  ZEBRA BOOKS are published by

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  119 West 40th Street

  New York, NY 10018

  Copyright © 2018 by Barbara Scarlett Dunn

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

  To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.

  If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the Publisher and neither the Author nor the Publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”

  Zebra and the Z logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off. BOUQUET Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

  ISBN: 978-1-4201-4452-9

  eISBN-13: 978-1-4201-4453-6

  eISBN-10: 1-4201-4453-7

  Dedicated to Michael—

  Your courage and resolve inspire me daily

  Prologue

  Kansas, 1872

  “How did you get yourself in that predicament, little fella?” Clay Hunt waded out to the middle of the muddy creek bed until he was knee-deep in the muck in an effort to rescue a little calf not yet strong enough to free himself. “Your mama is right up there on the bank waiting for you.” He wrapped his arms around the calf’s legs and hoisted him in the air. “I know she told you not to go in there.” It was a cold day with a crisp wind, and he felt the little calf shivering.

  Once Clay made his way to the bank with the calf, he gently placed him on the ground next to his bawling mother. He patted the calf ’s head as he spoke to his mama. “You take better care of this little guy. He’s a feisty little . . .” Hearing an unmistakable sound of a rifle report in the distance, Clay stopped talking and listened. One shot. He scanned the terrain in the direction of his house. Sound carried a long way on the range, and he didn’t often hear gunfire. Turning toward his horse, he stopped abruptly when he heard what could have been two more shots. These sounds were different, and Clay suspected they were fired from a pistol.

  Jonas Meeker came galloping up on his roan. “Boss, did you hear that?”

  Before Clay responded, he was already in the saddle. “Yeah. Came from the direction of the house.”

  “That’s what I’m thinking,” Jonas said.

  They were riding fast, but suddenly Jonas slowed, motioning for Clay to do the same.

  “What is it?” Clay yelled.

  Jonas pointed to a trail on the plateau west of the ranch where horses were kicking up a streaming trail of dust. Both men knew without saying that riders were hightailing it out of the area fast.

  “I expect Violet was signaling for us.” Clay had taught his wife how to shoot his rifle, and he instructed her to fire three shots if she needed him. There had been only one shot, and that troubled him. Without another word, they gave their horses’ full rein.

  Clay and Jonas had been on the range since dawn rounding up strays, and they planned to head home in another hour for lunch. Before Clay left that morning, Violet told him to invite Jonas to lunch. She was preparing Jonas’s favorite meal, and that included making a chocolate cake for dessert. Clay didn’t have to twist Jonas’s arm to get him to get to work that morning; the promise of chocolate cake was all the motivation he needed.

  Jonas had worked for Clay for five years, and proved himself trustworthy and reliable. For the past two years, three younger cowboys also worked on the ranch. They were good men, but didn’t possess Jonas’s work ethic. For one thing, Jonas was an older man, and he knew everything there was to know about cattle ranching. His experience had helped Clay in a thousand different ways. Jonas wasn’t inclined to go into town on a Saturday night and tie one on either, as the younger men were bent on doing.

  The larger ranches paid better wages, making it diff i-cult for Clay to employ younger men. He had to offer different perks, which prompted him to build a nicer bunkhouse, and Violet’s cooking helped to lure men with healthy appetites. The men told him her fine meals were more appealing than having a few dollars on their monthly pay. They’d eaten in enough bunkhouses to know that the cooks didn’t often stray from beans and bread. Violet was a wizard with her culinary skills on a meager budget, and she fed them a varied menu. Clay teased her that he had to work twice as hard since he married her so he wouldn’t get fat.

&
nbsp; The ranch house came into view and Clay’s gaze searched the front yard for Violet and their six-year-old son. Seeing no one about, his heart started pounding, matching the thundering of his horse’s hoofs.

  He was several yards away when he saw his beautiful wife and son lying on the front porch. Both men jumped off their horses before they came to a complete stop. “Violet . . . Violet!” Clay dropped to his knees beside his wife and he saw blood covering the front of her dress. “Dear God,” he muttered as he felt for a pulse at her neck. Nothing. He turned to his son with tears streaming down his cheeks. Like his mother, his young son had a bullet hole in his small chest. Clay’s mind couldn’t handle what he was seeing. He pulled his son into his arms and lifted his wife’s head to rest on his knees. “Violet . . . Mark.” His eyes searched their faces. They couldn’t be dead—he couldn’t believe they were dead. Clutching Mark to his chest, he rocked back and forth, repeating his name over and over. He then pulled his wife into his arms. Holding their limp bodies side by side, his tormented scream expressed an anguish so raw and deep it filled the void between heaven and earth.

  Jonas was kneeling beside Clay, so shocked at what he saw, that he could hardly gather his thoughts. Hearing Clay’s gut-wrenching wail brought him to his senses. He pulled his bandana out of his pocket, wiped his own tears away, and wrapped his arms around Clay. There were no words of comfort; they wouldn’t come. He simply held Clay as he held his precious family.

  They sat like that for a long time before Jonas came to grips with what had to be done. He needed to look around to see if he could make sense out of what happened. He wiped his face on his shirtsleeve, and said, “Boss, I’m going to have a look around.”

  Clay stared at Jonas, but he didn’t respond.

  Jonas recognized the signs of shock, and he gripped Clay’s shoulder. “Boss, I want to see if I can figure out what happened here.”

  Clay’s brain finally registered what Jonas saying. He nodded. “Yes. I need to know who did this. Let’s carry them to the stable and we’ll both look around.” When Clay started to lift Violet in his arms, he saw something on her skirt. He reached down and picked up a playing card: the ace of spades with a hole in the center. Why a playing card was on his wife’s skirt, he didn’t know. It seemed unimportant at that moment, and he unconsciously stuffed the card in his shirt pocket. Clay carried Violet, and Jonas fell into step beside him with young Mark in his arms. Entering the stable, they placed the bodies in the buckboard. Clay swiped his hands over his face and turned toward the tack room. Jonas knew Clay was thinking about the saddle he purchased for Mark’s Christmas present. Since the day Clay purchased that saddle, he’d looked at it every time he walked into the stable. Mark didn’t think he was going to get a saddle this Christmas, and Clay could hardly wait for Christmas morning to see the surprise on his son’s face.

  Before Clay opened the door to the tack room, Jonas said, “Boss, leave it alone.”

  Clay hesitated at the doorway, braced his forearm on the frame, and dropped his head to the crook of his arm. He stood like that a long time before he turned around, and walked out of the stable with Jonas.

  Both men kneeled down to closely examine the hoofprints in the dirt. Out of the mishmash of prints, Clay was able to see six horses had been there, and he committed to memory the small details of the individual prints.

  “Three of them rode to the back of the house,” Clay said, pointing to three sets of hoofprints leading around the side of the house.

  When they reached the porch, Clay picked up the rifle and sniffed the barrel. It had been fired. The killers knew Violet had fired that shot to summon help.

  Once inside the house, Clay noticed that his desk had been rifled through. The drawers were tossed on the floor, but Clay knew thieves found nothing worth taking. They weren’t rich people, and like most folks during hard times, they’d struggled to keep their ranch going. Making their way to the kitchen at the back of the house, they stopped inside the doorway. Everything looked normal. The table was set, pans were on the stove, and there was a chocolate cake on the counter.

  Clay had kept his loaded rifle on a shelf beside the back door when Violet was home alone. She could reach the rifle, but his son couldn’t. He walked across the room and removed two boxes of cartridges off the shelf. Exiting through the back door, they saw the three sets of hoofprints. Six men had been at his home that morning, and they’d made certain his wife and son had no means of escape.

  The barn, the stable, and the bunkhouse were intact, but the horses in the paddock were missing. He thought it was possible Violet surprised the killers as they were stealing the horses. Clay had put the horses in the paddock that morning, and now his beautiful young white mare was gone. He’d named the horse Moonrise, and he’d quickly developed a special bond with her. Moonrise was still young, but no animal had more heart. Clay had worked Moonrise hard the day before, and that was the only reason he wasn’t riding her today.

  “They took Moonrise,” Clay said to Jonas.

  Jonas knew Clay was crazy about that animal. “Boss, I’ll follow these tracks for a spell.” Jonas walked back to the front of the house and jumped in the saddle. He followed the trail to determine if they were traveling in the same direction where they saw the dust earlier. Sure enough, the dust they’d seen on the plateau was from the men who had killed Clay’s family. He followed for some distance to see what direction they were headed before he turned back to the ranch. First things first. He needed to help Clay bury his family before dark. When he returned to the stable, he found Clay constructing a coffin for Violet. Before he picked up his tools to help, he walked to the bunkhouse to make some coffee.

  “Boss, drink this.” Jonas handed Clay a cup of strong, hot coffee laced with some whiskey. They shared their coffee in silence, and when they finished, they went about finishing the coffins, frequently stopping to wipe their tears away.

  Once the coffins were constructed, they walked to the buckboard to get Violet and Mark. Clay reached down and picked up Violet’s cold hand. “Violet made your cake, Jonas.”

  Jonas stopped and stared down at the lovely woman who was much too young to be taken away. The last thing she did that morning was make him a cake. Such a simple statement, but it tore his heart out. He swiped at his tired gray eyes with his handkerchief. “Boss, I just don’t know who would do such a thing.” It was unimaginable how any man could kill a young woman and little boy. That was a whole different kind of meanness in Jonas’s estimation.

  “I’ll find them.” Clay brought Violet’s hand to his lips. “I promise you, honey, I will find them.” He noticed Violet’s plain gold band was missing. Violet had told him many times, it was the most precious thing she owned. He’d had it inscribed with two simple words: My love. Her killer had it now. Clay vowed then and there he would hunt down these killers and exact justice for his wife and son.

  Jonas couldn’t say another word; he placed Mark’s small body inside the coffin. He wished the other ranch hands were back from town in case those evil scoundrels came back. Yet he didn’t doubt Clay could take on all six men at once and make it out unscathed. He hadn’t seen Clay angry often, but he knew as sure as there was a God in heaven, these men would be in Hades by the hands of Clay Hunt, even if it took a lifetime.

  Clay gently placed Violet’s body in the coffin. He looked at her face a long time before he could close the lid. When it came time to close Mark’s coffin, Clay couldn’t do it. Jonas understood his feelings. It had to be the most difficult thing in the world to look upon their faces for the last time. He handled the task of closing Mark’s coffin as he said a silent good-bye.

  * * *

  Long after Jonas walked to the bunkhouse, Clay stood over the graves. Jonas told him he’d have something for him to eat when he was ready, but Clay didn’t think he’d ever be able to eat again. One of his greatest joys was sitting with his wife and son at the dinner table, eating the wonderful meal she’d prepared, and hearing his
son talk nonstop. How could a man lose everything he loved in a matter of minutes? What would he have done differently that morning if he knew he’d never see his family alive again?

  His mind drifted back to that morning. Like every morning, he’d told Violet he loved her and gave her a kiss. He’d ruffled Mark’s hair, and told him to watch after his mother before he kissed him on top of his head. He could still hear Mark’s reply in his innocent child’s voice. “I will, Pa.” Then he’d walked out the door, like every other normal morning. But this wasn’t a normal morning. Why didn’t God give him a sign his family was in danger? Why hadn’t God protected his family? The why question seemed to follow every thought.

  Clay joined Jonas in the bunkhouse, and they sat together over the meal, but neither man did little more than push the food around on their plates. Remembering the playing card in his pocket, Clay pulled it out and handed it to Jonas. “This was on Violet’s skirt. What do you make of it?”

  Jonas took the card and held it in the air and looked through the hole. “Someone shot that hole in there. I don’t know why they would leave this behind.” He shook his head in disgust. “How do you make sense out of men so mean?”

  Clay stuffed it back in his shirt pocket and stood. “I’m going to get provisions together and go after them.”

  “I’ll go with you, Boss.”

  “I need you to stay here, Jonas. Those young bucks can’t run this ranch, and I’m leaving it up to you to keep it going. I don’t know when I’ll be back.” He saw Jonas was about to object, so he placed his hand on his shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. “You know I’m right. It may be months before I return. I need you to handle things here for me. First thing I want you to do in the morning is go to town and tell the sheriff what went on out here. Tell him about the playing card, and see if he knows what it means. When I get to a town with a telegraph office, I’ll let you know where I am, and I’ll wait for your response.”