Free A Creed Country Christmas by Linda Lael Miller Page A

swept out the ashes. When that was done, he crouched,crumpling newspaper and arranging kindling. In an hour or so, the cold room would be comfortably warm.
    “Lincoln?”
    Startled, Lincoln turned his head, saw Juliana standing in the doorway, looking like a redheaded angel hiding wings under a threadbare dress. His heart shinnied up into the back of his throat and thumped there.
    “Supper’s ready,” she said.
    Another wifely statement. He liked the sound of it. Smiled as he shut the stove door and rose to his full height to adjust the damper on the metal chimney. “Thanks,” he said.
    She lingered on the threshold, neither in nor out.
    Lincoln enjoyed thinking how scandalized his mother would have been if she’d known. Straitlaced, she’d have had a hissy fit at the idea of the two of them standing within spitting distance of a bed—especially when that bed was her own. “Was there something else?”
    Juliana swallowed, looked away, visibly forced herself to meet his gaze again. “About the presents—the children would understand. They aren’t used to a fuss being made over Christmas, anyway, and—”
    Lincoln smiled and went to his mother’s massivewardrobe, opened the door. Gestured for Juliana to come to his side.
    Reluctantly, she did so.
    He pointed to the top shelf. Games. Dolls. Books. A set of jacks. A fancy comb-and-brush set. Enough candy to rot the teeth of every child in the state of Montana, twice over.
    Seeing it all, Juliana widened her eyes.
    “There’s plenty,” he said. “My brother Micah lives a long way from here, in Colorado, so Ma never sees his boys. Wes never married, and as far as we know, he’s never fathered a child. That leaves Gracie, and Ma’s been bent on spoiling her from the first.”
    Juliana stepped back, watched as Lincoln closed the wardrobe doors again. “You don’t approve?”
    “Of what?”
    She went pink again. Fetchingly so. “Your mother, buying so many gifts for Gracie.”
    Lincoln considered, shook his head. “No,” he said. “I guess I don’t. But it doesn’t seem to be hurting her any—Gracie, I mean—and anyhow, my mother is a force to be reckoned with. Most of the time, it’s easier to just let her have her way.”
    Juliana moved closer to the stove, though whether theobjective was to get warm or put some distance between the two of them, Lincoln didn’t know. What she said next sideswiped him.
    “The Bureau of Indian Affairs is probably going to put me in jail.”
    Lincoln’s breath went shallow. “Why?”
    “I was supposed to send these children to Missoula for placement in another school,” Juliana said. “Joseph and Theresa have a family, a home, people who want them. Daisy and Billy-Moses will either be swept under some rug or placed in an orphanage. I couldn’t bear it.”
    Lincoln went to her then, took a gentle hold on her shoulders. Tried to ignore the physical repercussions of touching her. “I’ll pay the train fare to send Joseph and Theresa home,” he said. “But how do you know the bureau won’t just drag them out again?”
    Gratitude registered in her face, and a degree of relief. “They won’t bother,” she said with sad confidence. “It would take too long and cost too much.”
    “The two little ones—they don’t have anyone?”
    “Just me,” Juliana said. “I shouldn’t have gotten attached to them—I was warned about that when I first started teaching—but I couldn’t help it.”
    A solution occurred to Lincoln—after all, he was a lawyer—but even in the face of Juliana’s despair, talking about it would be premature. His right hand rose of its own accord from her shoulder to her cheek. She did not resist his caress.
    “After Christmas,” he said, very quietly, “we’ll find a way to straighten this out. In the meantime, we’ve got two turkeys, a tree—” he indicated the wardrobe with a motion of his head “—and enough presents to do Saint Nicholas proud. For now, set the rest