Free Christmas for Ransom by Tanya Hanson Page A

an abandoned female bent on revenge. Outside, she waved to a ranch hand she knew, ignored his curious expression, and headed to the house to bid farewell to Crusty and Ida. A couple of inches of snow hugged the ground, but flakes had stopped falling.
    “Where’s your man?” The codger winked at her, his breath white on the air.
    “He’s not my man,” she said with a lie she hoped Crusty was too deaf to hear. “Just business. But I’ll be on my way.” Her heart was too heavy to tell the old man her plans to turn Ransom in. Christmas was the time for miracles, and maybe, just maybe, she’d come across one.
    “You ought to get some breakfast in you,” Crusty said, forehead furrowed. “And you ain’t seen Mother yet.”
    She ought to eat and greet, but she didn’t want to take the time. Besides, Letha May had sent food. “Hallo her for me, won’t you? I’ll stop by before the New Year, I promise.”
    Crusty frowned. “You taking Oneida with you? Don’t much like you alone on the trail with thieves about.”
    “No. No. You keep hold of her until we sort things out. And I’ll be fine.” With her shoulder, she gestured back to Firewalker with a nudge. “I’ve got a Winchester in my gear. And…” she patted her thigh. “A Colt strapped to one leg underneath my skirt, and a knife on the other.” She hugged him and rushed away. Her gun-toting habits were another behavior that insulted Granny, but Pleasure Stakes and its confines were not always diplomatic.
    Outside the gates of the Southern Star, she tried to read Ransom’s tracks. Indeed, he seemed headed east for Cahoots, but after following him to Wolftail Creek, she realized he’d doubled back. At his attempt to outwit her, her heart sank to the bottom of her boots. Her intuition had been right. He hadn’t been headed to find the scar-faced man in Cahoots at all, but the opposite direction toward the Canadian River and the ravines and gullies of Backbone Hollow with a million places to hide.
    Now came the most important decision of her life. Should she head for Cahoots and the sheriff? Or get to Backbone and give Ransom a chance to reveal himself? True, he was a hooligan and a bandit, but he did possess the strength of character to admit his ignorance and declare he wanted to learn to read. It took something of a man’s man who could admit something like that. Her heart softened.
    And he had asked to wed up with her.
    For much of the morning, snow lay over the saltbush and nutgrass like any downy counterpane. It wasn’t as bad a winter as others she’d known. By noon, the snow had turned the consistency of grits, reminding her she was starving. When she paused by an ocotillo tree, leafless with clumps of snow, its prettiness reminded her of the Christmas tree Ransom hadn’t seen for years and years, even though the shrub shaped opposite of a pine, in a V. Her heart tugged, thinking of a small boy who’d lost everything way back when.
    Firewalker licked up some snow until Eliza could find a spring, and she reached inside her gear for a chunk of Miz Letha May’s ham. It was gone, her good feelings fled, and she cussed Ransom out loud as she kicked at a drift.
    “Sorry, ’Walker,” she hugged the gelding’s neck. “That was most unladylike of me. But he’s left me to starve. I feel like skinning that scoundrel alive. Which I ought to do to some poor jack rabbit and fry him up.” She grimaced, for such was an activity she most disliked performing.
    But like shooting, she knew how, thanks to Stony Brook ranch hands, and did so, crying the whole time. The little critter was tasty but reminded her too much of Eastertimes long ago with Granny helping her color eggs with brown onion skins. But hunger was a powerful thing.
    For a silly flash, she longed to be a child again, except that would make last night impossible, and at least she had the memory of Ransom’s unselfish loving to hold close to her heart forever and ever.
    Amen.
    Respectfully,