All a Cowboy Wants for Christmas: Waiting for Christmas / His Christmas Wish / Once Upon a Frontier Christmas. Judith Stacy

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      Cold air enveloped Marlee as she slipped out the kitchen into the alley behind the general store. Stars spread across the black sky. Lantern light glowed in some of the windows that faced the alley, allowing Marlee to get her bearings. Across the narrow dirt lane stood animal pens and outbuildings.

      She stood by the door listening, but heard nothing. In the dim light she spotted no one in the alley. Relieved to have the place to herself, she set off.

      At the corner of the general store she turned left, intending to make her way to Main Street. Ahead of her, something moved in the shadows. Alarm rose in her as all the things that could happen to her blossomed in her head.

      A drunk cowboy. A criminal escaped from jail. The whole town, surely, in bed asleep. No one who’d hear her scream. Why hadn’t she thought of those things before she left the safety of her aunt and uncle’s store?

      Marlee stood very still, hoping the shadows from the building behind her would make her invisible. Her eyes and ears strained for any sight or sound. Nothing. A thread of relief ruffled through her. Perhaps whoever it was had gone. Or maybe no one at all had been there. Had it all been her imagination—

      “What are you doing here?” a deep voice demanded.

      Marlee jumped and her heart thumped in her chest. Good gracious, it was a man. Close by. And not sounding all that pleasant.

      Should she run, try to reach Aunt Viola’s kitchen before he caught her? With her long skirt and petticoats, she knew she’d never make it in time. Marlee drew herself up. There was nothing she could do but talk herself out of this.

      “I might ask you the same,” she replied, trying for the same haughty tone she’d heard Mrs. Montgomery use on servants and underlings.

      She knew she’d failed when she heard footsteps drawing nearer.

      “Don’t come any closer,” she said. “I’ve—I’ve got a—a gun.”

      The man continued walking, as if her threat had only enticed him.

      Marlee pulled her handbag from her wrist and struggled with the drawstring. “I’ll use it,” she called. “I mean it. Don’t come closer.”

      He covered the distance between them in two long strides. The heat of his body washed over her.

      “You shouldn’t make threats you can’t back up,” he said, leaning down.

      Marlee stepped back and bumped into the wall as light from the neighbor’s window shone onto the face of her would-be attacker towering in front of her.

      Her knees weakened. She thought she might swoon—but not because her life was in danger.

      Carson Tate.

      He glared hard at her, then recognition registered in his features—but not pleasure at seeing her.

      “You’re Willard’s niece,” he said. “I saw you this morning at the train station, then in the store.”

      Oh, fabulous, Marlee thought. The two times she’d looked her worst—and he remembered them both.

      He introduced himself, then frowned again.

      “I know you’re new here,” he said, “but you shouldn’t be out on the street alone at this time of night. And don’t pretend you have a gun, when you don’t.”

      “But I do,” she insisted.

      A little snicker slipped from his lips and he yanked her handbag from her grasp. His grin froze as he held it, feeling its heft.

      “What the hell?” he muttered. Carson reached inside and pulled out a Derringer pistol. “You’ve got a gun in here,” he declared.

      “I told you I did,” she said.

      “You’ve got a gun,” he repeated, more outraged this time. “What are you doing with a gun in your handbag? It’s dangerous. You might shoot somebody.”

      “That was the plan,” she informed him.

      “Is this thing loaded?” he demanded, and opened the chamber. “Empty. Did you really think you could scare somebody away with this thing?”

      “Well, it hasn’t worked so far,” she admitted.

      “Do you even know how to use this?” he asked.

      Quincy, Mrs. Montgomery’s butler, had asked her the same question when he’d learned of her trip to Texas and offered the little gun.

      “You just point it and pull the trigger.” It was the same answer she’d given Quincy. Carson didn’t seem as satisfied as the old butler had been.

      “There’s a lot more to it than that,” he told her, and his tone lightened a little. “And it helps if you put the bullets in.”

      Carson dropped the pistol into the pocket of his coat.

      “It’s really not a good idea for you to be out here by yourself at night,” he said, then cupped her elbow and urged her through the alley.

      Heat rushed up Marlee’s arm. Even through the fabric of her cloak she could feel the strength in his hand, his fingers. They walked to the rear entrance of the general store. Carson lingered near the door but didn’t open it. Instead he eased closer to Marlee.

      A strange heat, deeper than would be expected on a cold winter’s night, wafted from him and, somehow, penetrated her cloak. It drew her nearer.

      Carson leaned down and touched his lips to hers. She gasped but he didn’t stop and she couldn’t find the strength to pull away. His arms encircled her. She stood in his embrace, lost in his kiss.

      He stepped back. Cold air rushed between them, bringing her back to reality. She hurried into the kitchen and closed the door behind her.

      He’d kissed her—and he’d stolen her gun.

      Marlee worked alongside Audrey and Becky the next morning, washing the breakfast dishes. She struggled to keep up with their well-practiced routine, but her cousins didn’t seem to notice. They chatted about most everything, but Marlee couldn’t keep her mind on the conversation as the events of last night played over and over in her mind.

      When she’d awakened this morning, she’d wondered if she’d dreamed the whole thing—meeting Carson in the alley, the warmth he gave off, the kiss he’d given her. She’d never been kissed before, really kissed. It had all seemed like a fairy tale—until she looked in her handbag and saw that her pistol was gone.

      Marlee picked up the cups Audrey had dried and took them to the cupboard.

      She had to get her gun back. It belonged to Quincy, and he’d only loaned it to her for the trip. He’d expect it back when she returned in January. For a moment she considered reporting it to the sheriff, but then she’d have to explain why she was in the alley alone late at night, and eventually her account of the incident might lead to the kiss.

      Oh, that kiss.

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