Free Plum Pudding Bride by Anne Garboczi Evans

robber.”
    “You did all that?” He’d ridden after her, squelched two outlaws, rescued her. There were so many things she wanted to say to him. But then the ground began to move in front of her again.
    “Come on up. I’ll get you home.” He lifted her up into the wagon seat.

10
    Several hours later, Peter drove the wagon up to the Gilman sheriff office.
    Patience chafed one hand on the other to warm them. Snow dusted Peter’s torn coat and gathered in the long strands of hair that had escaped her bun. Her balance had finally returned, but her back and legs warned of coming soreness on the morrow. She sat on the wagon seat as Peter swung down and entered the building.
    Candlelight poured out of the church building across the street. The sun had set already, but the snow reflected every light, making the nighttime almost bright. Soft strains of “Silent Night” accompanied by reverent voices emanated into the night. The Christmas Eve service must be almost over.
    Sheriff Westwood came out and clapped handcuffs around Arnie’s thick wrists. Arnie swore as the sheriff passed him off to a deputy. “Good work, Peter.” Sheriff Westwood smiled. “We’ll send these two to the federal marshals.” He asked more questions, but Peter reached up and offered his hand.
    Patience jumped into his arms.
    A startled expression passed over his face, but he caught her.
    Throwing both arms around Peter’s neck, she clung to him. The warmth of his chest surrounded her.
    His black bowler hat was long since lost in the mountain snow and he stood bareheaded as white flakes accumulated on his close-cropped hair.
    “You rescued me. You have my undying gratitude.” She stood on the scuffed toes of her boots to whisper it in his ear. She slid her frozen hands into his.
    “It was nothing.” Releasing her hands, he patted her back awkwardly.
    Hot tears rolled down her icy face. She buried her head in his shoulder and sucked in the scent. Today he smelled of lemon candies and gingersnaps with just a hint of straw.
    A blustery wind tangled around them. Snow fell in heavy flakes as she clung to Peter’s warmth.
    “Are you all right?” Peter’s voice sounded unsure.
    “I will be.”
    “What happened out there, Peter?” The sheriff moved closer.
    The deputy hustled the two robbers forward, approaching the jailhouse.
    Touching her shoulders, Peter ignored the sheriff. He moved her far enough way to look into her eyes. His dark eyes held concern. “Should I walk you home? Or would you rather go home with your sister?”
    “Sister?” Patience glanced up. The church doors had opened and a crowd now packed the street. Mrs. Clinton wrung her hands and murmured prayers. A few children stared wide-eyed at the robbers as the deputy escorted them into the jail. Blinking, she followed Peter’s finger to where Kitty’s pink crocheted scarf blew prettily in the wind. Kitty.
    Her heart collapsed within her. That was right; Kitty and Peter were in love. Even talking marriage, if Kitty was to be believed. “I—” Releasing Peter, Patience took a step back.
    “You’ve had a trying day.” Peter’s hand touched the small of her back as he maneuvered her to Kitty.
    Running forward, Kitty grabbed her hand. “Sister! What an awful day. Are you unharmed? Peter was so brave.” She turned those big blue eyes of hers up to Peter, her gaze filled with adoration.
    Peter didn’t correct her. “Take good care of her. Your sister was brave today as well.”
    “Of course.” Grabbing her arm, Kitty muscled her off towards home as the crowd closed in around Peter.
    “Did you really wrestle down Mr. Dehaven?” A boy’s shrill voice rose above the wind.
    “Did you know they were wanted criminals when you rode up the mountains after Patience?” asked another young voice.
    “Will you get a share of the reward money?”
    The questions faded in the snow as Kitty dragged Patience towards home.
    “Are you hungry? We were all dreadfully distraught.