Free An Outlaw's Christmas by Linda Lael Miller Page A

can’t see Dara Rose making the trip.”
    “No,” Piper agreed sadly. “I suppose not. She’s well, though?”
    Clay smiled. “She’s just fine, Piper. Don’t you worry.” His eyes lit up. “Tell you what. If Sawyer’s better by then, I’ll bring both of you out to the ranch Christmas Eve, after the program, and we’ll all celebrate the big day together. I’ll even see that you get back to Blue River before school takes up again after New Year’s.”
    “I’d like that,” Piper said, cheered. The prospect of spending time with her cousin and the children, holding the baby if it had arrived by then, and, yes, taking long, luxurious baths in Dara Rose’s claw-footed tub, complete with hot and cold running water, renewed her.
    A few minutes later, after bringing in more water and firewood, Clay and the doctor left.
    Piper watched them go through the schoolhouse window, Sawyer’s buckskin gelding plodding along behind the team and sled. The sky had gone from blue to gray, she saw with trepidation, but she kept her thoughts in the present moment, since worrying wouldn’t do any good.
    Emptying the crate Dara Rose had filled for her took up a happy half hour—there were notes from Edrina and Harriet, as well as a long, chatty letter from their mother—and Piper, feeling rich, made herself a pot of tea, lit the lantern against the gathering gloom of a winter afternoon, and sat down at her desk to read.
    Dara Rose gave a comical account of ranch life, especially in her current condition, assured Piper that she had nothing to fear from Sawyer McKettrick, and related funny things the children had said. Between the approach of Christmas and being virtually snowed in, Edrina and Harriet had an excess of energy and bickered constantly, settling down only when Clay reminded them that St. Nicholas paid attention to good behavior and dispensed gifts accordingly.
    By the time she’d finished reading the letter through for the first time, Piper was both smiling and crying a little. She’d miss Dara Rose and the children terribly if she went back to Maine, she reminded herself silently. They were all the family she had, after all, here or there.
    Still, in Maine she wouldn’t be the schoolmarm who’d housed a half-naked outlaw, as she would be here in Blue River. She could get another teaching position and eventually meet a suitable man and get married. Finally have a home and children of her own.
    A hoarse shout from the bedroom startled her so much that she nearly upset her cup of tea. Alarmed, she bolted to her feet and hurried in to investigate.
    Sawyer sat up in bed, breathing hard, his eyes wild, his flesh glistening with perspiration even though the room was fairly cold, being far from the stove. He was holding the pistol in his right hand, and the hammer was drawn back.
    For one hysterical moment, Piper thought the shooter must have returned, maybe crawled in through the high window, but there was no one else in the room.
    She kept her gaze on the Colt .45 in Sawyer’s hand. The barrel was long, and it glinted evilly in the thin light.
    “Don’t shoot,” she said weakly.
    Sawyer came back to himself with a visible jolt, blinked a couple of times, and, much to Piper’s relief, set the gun aside on the night table. “Sorry,” he said. “Guess I must have been dreaming.”
    Piper lingered in the doorway, waiting for her flailing heart to slow down to its normal pace. Doc had done a good job of replacing Sawyer’s bandages; they looked clean and white against his skin. “Are you hungry?” she asked. “Dara Rose sent a lovely ham, and some preserves, too.”
    He blinked again, then gave a raw chuckle. “You keep asking if I’m hungry,” he said. “Why is that?”
    “You haven’t eaten since breakfast,” Piper said, a little defensively. “It’s almost suppertime now.”
    Sawyer looked surprised, and she could tell he was wondering where the day had gone. “It is?” he asked.
    “Yes,” she