Christmas for Ransom Read Free Page B

she had taught them something, after all. The pageant tomorrow night would feature a stellar rhyme from every single one of the seventeen children. Little Grace Carter’s would command the starring role.
    As Eliza reached for the door knob, guilt assailed her. Firewalker. For yet another day, she hadn’t gotten her gelding exercised. Firewalker was the last thing Pa left behind to remind her of him, and she loved the paint with her whole heart. Suddenly the simple act of turning a latch almost brought her to her knees. That dagnabbed broken rib. After a stagecoach ride from Frying Pan that had been hell on wheels, she reckoned she’d healed up some since Thanksgiving.
    Tonight though, the cold night air attacked her person nearly as bad as that evil outlaw. More than her aches and pains, anger flared at the outrage of decent folk getting their horses pilfered. Right under their noses.
    Worst of all, the Rangers had found not one single trace of Granny’s prized Morgans. By the time silly Tubby and his crew had hobbled into Frying Pan, the trail had already gone cold. Since then, Eliza’s gut had ached with revenge, every hour of every day. She pressed her hands to her burning belly, and gritted her teeth to calm down.
    Least she could do before supper was get to Firewalker’s side at the livery and grant him a nuzzle and an apple. God-willing, she’d manage a ride tomorrow, come hell or high water. Even if it meant starting the pageant an hour later and tightening a corset around her ribs.
    Deep down she grinned. Even thinking the word “hell” had her doomed to perdition in Granny’s eyes, and she’d just done it twice. Her heart twisted in confusion. She loathed Granny while loving the old woman with her whole heart. She longed for her life of freedom in Pleasure Stakes yet longed for justice for the Stony Brook at the same time, longed to be there to see it done.
    Ah. Too much to think on as she trudged to the livery. Big Ben Chavez had yet to lock up for the night, eager as his pocketbook was for any and all latecomers. In truth, his eyes lit up like a Christmas candle in anticipation of the tip she was bound to leave him.
    “Here to see ’Walker?” the blacksmith asked as she found the stall. “My boy Benjie got him rode today in your behalf.”
    “Thanks to both of you.” Eliza handed the blacksmith two bits for his son, hoping he didn’t think her neglectful of her fine mount. “I just can’t believe how busy the schoolroom keeps me these days.”
    “You need help with your pageant tomorrow night?” Ben asked kindly, and she knew he meant it.
    She shook her head, and the hood of her burnoose fell to her back. “Thanks, but no. All set. Beth Ellison’s decided to loan us her newborn for the nativity display.”
    “But isn’t it a niña ? A girl?”
    “Yes indeed. But in swaddling clothes, who can tell?” They both laughed. “Colonel Sam Bastion of the railroad construction crew has constructed a most sturdy manger. He has assured us both of its safety. Ben?” Eliza reckoned this the right time for a parent consultation.
    “ Si , Miz Eliza?” His big gnarled hand tightened over a hammer.
    “I’d really like it if Benjie returned to school. He has a fine brain.”
    The blacksmith sighed. “He’s no longer a small boy, senorita . He makes good money with Colonel Bastion.”
    Eliza’s spirits fell. The age of thirteen years wasn’t the time to make a grown-up decision. Children needed guidance, and Ben was a sensible man. She wanted to make the push for the boy’s education, but from the shadows emerged someone so tall, so broad, so silent she wondered if she’d entered a dream. Pinching herself, she lost interest in everything except seeing what the stranger looked like in the lantern light. Brawny stalwart men were nothing new in a railroad town or on the ranch, but she never minded a good view.
    Her breath caught so hard her sore rib tweaked. He was magnificent. The big-brimmed hat