Read Online Montana Sky Christmas: A Sweetwater Springs Short Story Collection by Debra Holland - Free Book Online Page A

gave her a sideways look. “One of the other hands took a wife, and Thompson let him build a cabin on the property, not far from the big house. Said he’d do it for any of us. Not that he’s too worried about his men settling down.” He shook his head. “We don’t have much chance to meet and court women.”
    The thought he might be courting her caused the moths to flitter up from her stomach into her throat. Her heart beat faster, and she felt short of breath.
    “That day at the mercantile, after I rode away, I realized I’d forgotten to buy the nails for the foreman, and rode back.” He ducked his head, then turned to look into her eyes. “You were gone by then. I supposed I asked about you.”
    “You did?” A flutter of excitement raced over her. She glanced back at her parents and saw Ma stirring a pot and Da watching them while he poked logs into the stove. Ma cut her a glance and a half-smile. “What did Mrs. Cobb say?”
    “Said, ‘that Sally O’Donnell is a pretty gal. The O’Donnells live in an isolated spot. The Knapps on one side, next to the Muths. No young man around for miles.’” He studied her face.  
    Her cheeks heated. “It is very quiet out here.”
    “Course—” he held her gaze, his brown eyes anxious “—a woman might want a house on her man’s own land, stead of living on someone else’s ranch. Maybe a claim on the prairie?”
    “Oh, I don’t know,” Sally said, choosing her words with care. “Living on a ranch with other people around, other women to visit with, she wouldn’t be so lonesome for company. Not like out here on the prairie where we go months without seeing other people. Da doesn’t mind so much, but Ma and I do.” She half turned and sent an apologetic glance to her father, who winked in response.
    Harry relaxed back in his chair, sprawling out his legs. “That’s good to hear.” He stared back into the fire. “I’m partial to ranch life myself.”
    Sally watched the flames dance and inhaled the scent of pine and Christmas dinner. She looked over at Harry. Maybe, just maybe, my Irish luck is sitting right here.  
    Their gazes met and held in a moment of connection that brought another blush to her cheeks. She glanced away and then back, watching him from underneath lowered eyelashes. As the firelight played over his face, she realized, nothing is missing anymore.

 
    KAYLEIGH’S CHRISTMAS GOOSE
     
    Ten-year-old Kayleigh Gentry hefted the heavy stick with the knobby end and swung it down on the ice in the horse trough set in front of the barn. The ice shattered, and she poked at the remaining shards until she had a hole big enough to allow her gander, Prince, access to water.
    A few feet away, Prince pecked at the dirt churned up by the horses’ hooves. She doubted he’d find anything edible in the frozen ground.
    Kayleigh called him, and he lifted his long neck, peered at her, and waddled over. She picked him up, gave him a slight squeeze of affection—not too hard lest he buffet her with his powerful wings—then set him in the water.
    Across the yard, Ma opened the door of the house. “Kayleigh,” she called.
    “Coming, Ma!”
    Her mother ducked back inside.
    Kayleigh sighed, knowing Ma had a tedious heap of chores waiting. She’d rather help Pa in the barn. Animals were so much more interesting than drying dishes, making the beds, sweeping the floor, and helping Ma prepare food.
    “I’ll come back later, Prince,” she said to the gander, which ignored her by sticking his head in the water. She picked up the burlap bag, heavy with grain, and scattered a few handfuls on the ground. Then she took the stick and the bag into the barn and put them away.
    She cast a wishful glance toward the ladder leading to the hayloft, a place she loved to retreat to whenever she had a chance. Maybe later.
    Reluctantly, Kayleigh left the barn and headed for the house, walking in the trampled path made by her father’s and brother’s footsteps.
    The