A Cowboy Christmas by Linda Goodnight

Author:Linda Goodnight
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2018-09-12T16:24:50+00:00

Chapter Three

“I love living in a place where we can walk to church, Mommy!” Dovie swung Jessica’s hand as they strolled up Harrison Street toward the old clapboard-and-stone church.

“Very nice,” she agreed, but something was wrong. There were no cars filtering into the village and parking near the church. There were no other people walking down the street for the nine o’clock service, and yet she was sure that was what the sign had indicated. As they drew close, a burst of wind sent Dovie’s hat flying.

“Eek!” She laughed and clapped her hands over her head while Jessica chased down the errant hat. “That wind is just like Nebraska wind!”

“It sure is, which leaves me to wonder why Aunt Celia couldn’t have fallen in love with a man from, say, Texas? New Mexico? Or a crooner from Tennessee?”

“What’s a crooner?” Dovie wondered, as they climbed the stairs. When Jessica tried the church door and found it locked, Dovie frowned. “Doesn’t anybody else want to go to church, Mommy?” She glanced back and forth, as if hoping someone would show up. “Are we all alone?”

“Of course not, honey, I’m sure there are other people living nearby,” she told her, but now that they’d been here a couple of days, she wasn’t nearly as certain.

The town wasn’t exactly desolate. A few cars had made their way in and out the past couple of days. But just a few.

She was about to start back home when a car pulled up. Then another. And another.

Half a dozen cars rolled in, all coming from the same direction, and when one of the gentlemen proffered a key, Dovie clapped her hands in glee. “We do have a church in this town, Mommy! We do!”

“Running late as usual, but we haven’t had anyone waiting for us before now, so that will push us to be on time.” A dark-skinned older woman came up the stairs and extended her hand. “I am Cora Lee Satterly from Pine Ridge Ranch. It is a most certainly a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Jessica Lambert.” Jessica took her hand and smiled. “That sweet drawl wasn’t at all what I expected,” she added. “You’re Southern.”

“Guilty as charged. But living up north now. And happy to be here,” she finished as several other people came up the steps. The first man—tall, square shouldered and good-looking—put the key in the lock, and when the door swung open, he grinned. “Every week I’m pretty sure that old lock’s going to fail us. And every week we make it in.”

“I’m putting this sweet church on my rehab list,” said a dark-haired young woman holding a blonde baby girl. “Maybe we can find ourselves a pastor that way.”

“There’s no pastor?” Jessica asked, looking around as other folks arrived.

“When ours retired, there was no one to take his place,” said the man with the key. “Heath Caufield,” he continued, introducing himself, then slipped an arm around the woman at his side. “My wife, Lizzie. And our son, Zeke.”

“And a host of other local folks,” said an older gentleman.

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