A Western Christmas. Louise M. Gouge
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More snickers from the other boys. She’d expected no less.
Just as Ellie opened her mouth to respond, a deep, masculine voice cut her off. “Outside, Mr. Driscoll. And bring your rat with you.”
Ellie spun around, her gaze connecting with Caleb’s. Except he was no longer the Caleb she knew. He was big bad Sheriff Voss, the dedicated lawman who kept order in Thunder Ridge. The man nobody challenged, especially not a mischievous boy at a children’s play rehearsal.
Ellie tried to gain Caleb’s attention, to let him know she had the situation under control, but his gaze was locked with Brody’s. “I said outside, now.”
Shoulders slumped, Brody took the mouse from Ellie’s fingers and headed toward the exit, Caleb one step behind.
No. Oh, no, no. Although sweet and certainly well-meaning, Ellie could not let Caleb rescue the situation. Yet she couldn’t question his authority in front of the children, either.
A quandary to be sure, but Ellie needed the children to know she was in charge.
She trotted after Caleb and Brody, caught up with them in the vestibule. “Cale—I mean, Sheriff Voss.” She gripped his sleeve. “A quick word, if you please.”
* * *
Caleb hesitated at the warmth that spread from Ellie’s fingers, past his coat and straight into his forearm. “Now? You want to speak to me, now?”
“Yes, Caleb. Now.”
Impatience surged. Whatever Ellie had to say couldn’t be more important than taking care of Brody’s willful disobedience.
“Please,” she pleaded in the soft, sweet voice that did strange things to his gut. “It’ll take only a moment.”
Frowning, he dropped his eyes to Ellie’s hand still curled around his arm, then raised a questioning eyebrow. “I’m in the middle of something pretty important here.”
“As am I.” She dropped her hand and favored Brody with a stern, no-nonsense glance.
“Sheriff Voss will meet you outside in a moment. I suggest you spend the time alone thinking about what you’ve done and, of course, taking care of that.” She looked pointedly at the mouse.
“Yes, Miss Ellie.” Mouse tail clamped between his thumb and forefinger, Brody headed for the door.
Caleb stopped him. “Stop right there. Don’t you have something to say to Miss Ellie?”
The boy sighed, his shoulders now drooping along with his head. “I’m sorry for disrupting play practice.”
“You’re forgiven,” she said, her tone full of the graciousness inherent in her character. “But don’t ever pull a stunt like that again. Are we clear?”
“No, ma’am. I mean...yes, ma’am.” Sighing heavily, Brody lifted a frustrated shoulder. “I mean, no, I won’t.”
She patted him fondly on the arm. “That’s all I ask.”
Brody smiled at her.
She smiled back. “Go on outside, now.”
“Yes, Miss Ellie.” The boy’s eyes were full of remorse as he exited the building.
Caleb had always known Ellie was a steady sort. Now he also knew she had a large store of patience. He attempted to follow her lead, though it called for great effort on his part. “I’m listening. What’s on your mind?”
“I appreciate your assistance with Brody, but you must understand. I had the situation under control.”
No argument there. “Yes, you did.”
When he’d walked into the church he’d watched her retrieve the mouse from the floor. I believe this belongs to you, she’d said without a hint of inflection in her voice, or fear in her eyes. Caleb nearly smiled at the memory. Despite Ellie’s diminutive stature, she was no delicate, fragile woman.
He liked that about her. “Your handling of the situation was quite impressive.”
A frown formed between her eyes. “Then why did you step in?”
“For Brody’s sake.”
Her frown deepened. “I don’t understand.”
“His mother is sick, Ellie. Dying actually. She may not make it to Christmas. He’s not been coping well with the prospect of losing her. This isn’t the first time he’s disrupted a gathering.”
“Oh, Caleb. I didn’t know, didn’t realize.” Ellie drew in a tight breath, her gaze filling with understanding. “That certainly explains his behavior this afternoon.”
In a word. “Yes.”
“Under the circumstances, you’re the best person to talk to him.”
He nodded, forever grateful Ellie knew his past. He didn’t have to go into detail about how his own mother had died around this same time of year when he’d been nearly Brody’s exact age. Caleb only wished Ellie wouldn’t look at him with sad memories in her eyes. He didn’t want her sympathy for himself, but for Brody. He turned to go.
“Don’t be too hard on the boy,” she called after him.
“Only what the situation requires.” He found Brody waiting for him on the front steps of the church, his foot digging into a pile of freshly fallen snow mixed with mud.
“What were you thinking?” he asked the boy in a stern tone. “You know better than to bring a dead mouse into the church.”
The boy looked him straight in the eyes. Tears shimmered in his gaze, but he heroically swallowed them. “I’m sorry.”
Caleb didn’t doubt Brody’s sincerity, but he suspected the sorrow in the boy’s eyes had little to do with the mouse incident. “How’s your mother feeling?”
“Not good. She’s so weak and can hardly get out of bed anymore. I hate seeing her suffer.”
“I didn’t realize her illness had progressed that much since I stopped by last week.”
Why hadn’t Betsy told him? His housekeeper had ample opportunity and would surely know Caleb would understand if she needed to spend more time with her dying sister.
“It’s not fair,” Brody said, battling tears. “Christmas is Mama’s favorite holiday.”
Caleb’s throat seized. He understood the kid’s pain, felt it deep in his own soul. He had to blink several times to keep memories of another Christmas at bay, his mother’s last. “I’m sorry to hear she’s growing worse.”
The boy kicked at the snow, sending white puffs circling around his foot. “Aunt Betsy