Sheriff Reagan's Christmas Boots Read online

  By

  THE WYLDHAVEN SERIES

  by Lynnette Bonner

  Not a Sparrow Falls - BOOK ONE

  On Eagles’ Wings - BOOK TWO

  Beauty from Ashes - BOOK THREE

  Consider the Lilies - BOOK FOUR

  Novellas Releasing During the 2019 Holiday Season

  Sheriff Reagan’s Christmas Boots - BOOK FIVE (Novella)

  Doc Griffin’s Christmas Sleigh - BOOK SIX (Novella)

  Deputy Joe’s Christmas Saddle - BOOK SEVEN (Novella)

  Marshal Zane’s Christmas Horse - BOOK EIGHT (Novella)

  Washington Nolan’s Christmas Watch - BOOK NINE (Novella)

  Parson Clay’s Christmas Pup - BOOK TEN (Novella)

  Kin Davis’ Christmas Send-Off - BOOK ELEVEN (Novella)

  Songs in the Night - BOOK TWELVE – Coming Soon!

  OTHER HISTORICAL BOOKS

  by Lynnette Bonner

  THE SHEPHERD’S HEART SERIES

  Rocky Mountain Oasis - BOOK ONE

  High Desert Haven - BOOK TWO

  Fair Valley Refuge - BOOK THREE

  Spring Meadow Sanctuary - BOOK FOUR

  Find all other books by Lynnette Bonner at:

  www.lynnettebonner.com

  Sheriff Reagan’s Christmas Boots

  WYLDHAVEN, Book 5

  Published by Serene Lake Publishing

  Copyright © 2019 by Lynnette Bonner. All rights reserved.

  Cover design by Lynnette Bonner of Indie Cover Design, images ©

  www.depositphotos.com, File: # 60918961 - Tree

  www.depositphotos.com, File: # 13540313 - Boots

  www.periodimages.com, File: # 2017-04-12_17.54.25-1 - Cowboy

  Scripture taken from the New King James Version®. Copyright © 1982 by Thomas Nelson, Inc. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

  Sheriff Reagan’s Christmas Boots is a work of fiction. References to real people, events, establishments, organizations, or locales are intended only to provide a sense of authenticity and are used fictitiously. All other characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination.

  Chapter 1

  Charlotte tossed and turned fretfully for several hours before she heard the thump of Reagan’s boots hitting the bedroom floor and felt the dip of the bed as he climbed in. He’d been dealing with a brawl at McGinty’s Alehouse, and she’d partly been worried over his safety, but her mind was eased by the knowledge that he had his deputy, Joseph Rodante, and his mother’s new husband, Zane Holloway, as backup.

  But if she was honest, her main concern these past few days was because December was almost upon them and she didn’t yet have a clue what to buy for Reagan’s Christmas present.

  Reagan reached over and squeezed her hand. “Hope I didn’t wake you?”

  She shook her head, then realized he couldn’t see her in the dark, so said, “No. I’ve been awake. I’ll sleep better now that your home.”

  He grunted and punched his pillow into a more comfortable position. “If you are going to have a difficult time sleeping every time I’m called out in the night, I’ll have to look into making Joe or Zane handle all the late-night calls.”

  Charlotte socked his arm gently. “You wouldn’t do that to Liora or your mother. Especially not your mother.”

  Reagan yawned loudly and his voice was more muted when he replied, “Yes, but she’s been doing a lot less worrying lately, have you noticed?”

  “I have, indeed.”

  Reagan’s response was a soft snore.

  Charlotte sighed and flipped over on her back to stare into the darkness.

  She, on the other hand, had been worrying a lot of late. What did one buy for their husband for Christmas? Last year had been fairly easy. It had been their very first Christmas and so presents had been things they’d needed for their home. Reagan had bought her a new stove for the kitchen, since old man Jonas, the previous owner of their house, had likely purchased his before the start of the Civil War. And she’d bought Reagan a new-fangled pen that stored ink right in the shaft and a new shaving bowl and razor.

  But this year... She’d been racking her brain for months and hadn’t been able to come up with an affordable solution. Not because she didn’t have ideas, but because, since she’d quit her teaching job to stay at home and be a wife, funds were much tighter this year than they had been last.

  After a few hours of restless sleep, she woke, heart still weighed down by her predicament. She listened to Reagan’s snoring until the sun pierced through the thin gap in the bedroom’s calico curtains.

  Reagan mumbled and turned over.

  She threw an arm across her eyes and angled her head away. She needed more sleep, but thoughts of all she had to get done this day refused her the comfort of continued slumber. She eased from beneath the covers, doing her best not to disturb Reagan.

  She hadn’t taken two steps before she stubbed her toe on something hard and unyielding. Biting back a yelp and a grumble of irritation, she fumbled through the shadows to feel what it was.

  Reagan’s boots.

  She gritted her teeth. He’d obviously discarded them without too much thought in his weariness.

  She grasped the boots by their tops to carry them to their proper place near the bureau. The shaft of light landed on them as she set them on the floor and she felt her concern mount. The boots were worn and aged. The leather had definitely seen better days, but of greatest concern was the large gap where the top of the shoe had separated from the sole.

  Reagan had made no complaint, yet the days recently had been bitterly cold. It wouldn’t do for him to keep wearing such shabby shoes. Not only because his feet needed to be warm, but because it simply wasn’t a good image for the sheriff to be tromping around in shoes that were barely holding together. It didn’t cast Wyldhaven in a good light.

  She left the boots in their place by the bureau, but smiled. And as she headed for the kitchen to start breakfast, she felt like a burden had been lifted.

  Finally! She knew what her Christmas present this year ought to be. But her relief over knowing what to buy was mixed with worry over the how of it. They would be cheaper from the Sears and Roebuck catalog, but at this date, it was too late to have them shipped. She would just have to order a more expensive pair from Mr. Giddens at the livery.

  Stepping to the cupboard she pulled the teacup from the top shelf and dumped all the money onto the counter.

  Two dollars and six bits. She was pleased. She hadn’t realized that she’d saved up quite that much. It ought to be enough to buy a pair of boots, oughtn’t it?

  But in what size? Reagan only had the one pair of boots and they were always on his feet unless he was sleeping, so she couldn’t take them by the livery for a size comparison. She frowned as she stared at the scrambled eggs she was cooking. Maybe his mother would know? Yes. That was the solution. She gave a little nod. She would swing by her mother-in-law’s later to ask her about the size.

  Reagan woke an hour later and entered the kitchen with his boots in one hand. A large yawn stretched his jaw as he sank into one of the chairs at the table. He scrubbed a hand over his head, displacing his hair in all directions before he bent and tugged on the boots.

  Charlotte poured a cup of coffee and set it before him. She grinned and scooped her fingers into his hair, combing it into some semblance of order. “Whatever did you do about your unruly locks before I became your wife, dear sheriff?”

  “I combed it myself, but now I leave it messy to get you close enough to catch.” He caught her wrist and tugged her onto his lap, looking up with a smile. He winked and raised his lips to hers.

  Charlotte relished the feel o
f his strong hands at her back, the soft hair at the nape of his neck between her fingers, and the brush of his lips over hers.

  Only a moment later a knock sounded on the kitchen door. “Sheriff? Sheriff you up?”

  Reagan sighed and set her away from him. “Looks like my day is off to a rousing start.” He opened the door.

  Washington Nolan stood on the porch. “Sorry to bother you, sir! But you’re needed in town.”

  Reagan grabbed two biscuits and pressed some eggs between them. Raising the makeshift sandwich, he said, “See you at dinner.” Then he snagged his hat from the peg, stepped onto the porch, and pulled the door closed behind him.

  Charlotte sighed and served herself a plate, sinking down at the table to eat alone.

  Again.

  Chapter 2

  Charlotte hurried through her breakfast and the morning’s house chores and then, with her coat tucked close about her neck and her breath fogging the morning, bustled through the cold to feed and water the chickens. She added wood to the banked fire in the old stove that Reagan had repurposed to keep the hen-house warm, and then dashed the mile into town to talk to Jacinda, Reagan’s mother.

  She felt a little nervous about the timeframe. But if Jacinda knew the size and she got the order put in today, all should be fine.

  Jacinda opened her kitchen door, wiping her hands on a towel. “Oh, what a nice surprise. Come in. It’s colder than Belle’s shoulder out here!”

  With a chuckle over the reference to Belle Kastain’s perpetual snootiness, Charlotte scooted into the warmth of the kitchen and hung her wraps on the hooks by the door.

  Jacinda gave her a guilty look as she set a steaming cup of the herbal tea she kept just for Charlotte onto the table and nudged the sugar bowl her way. “Poor Belle. I really shouldn’t have said that. She’s gone through a lot in the past few years and I’ll be the first to admit that she’s really stepped up to help her mother after William’s passing.”

  Charlotte pressed her lips together, not wanting to agree that she shouldn’t have spoken like that and condemn her mother-in-law, but also not wanting to reassure her, since it was true they shouldn’t speak at Belle’s expense. Instead she offered, “I think I’ve figured out what I’m going to get for Reagan, finally!”

  Jacinda pulled out a chair and sank down, gesturing for her to do the same. “Do tell.”

  “Boots!” Charlotte stirred a teaspoon of sugar into her teacup.

  “Good luck getting him to give up his ‘comfortable’ pair.” Jacinda grinned over the rim of her cup.

  Charlotte tilted her head. “Am I going to have to make those old raggedy ones disappear?”

  “Most likely.”

  “Well, the side of one busted out just the other day, so hopefully I won’t have to fight him too passionately. But I came by for a reason. I don’t know what size to have Mr. Giddens make.”

  Jacinda’s eyes widened. “Oh, dear. I always just took a tracing of his feet to Bill. I never asked what size it corresponded to.”

  Willing away her disappointment, Charlotte set down her cup. “I see. Well, maybe Mr. Giddens will remember the right size. I’ll pop over to the livery and ask him. What are you getting for Zane?” Since Jacinda and her US Marshal husband had only been married for a few months, this would be their first Christmas together.

  With a swipe at some invisible specks on the table, Jacinda grinned and gave a pump of her brows. “Zane’s old Morgan isn’t as spry as he used to be. So I placed an order for an Appaloosa from the ranch we visited on our wedding tour. Since he admired both the dam and the sire, I know he’s going to be thrilled.”

  “That’s so exciting! How are you getting it here?”

  “It’s scheduled to arrive on the train in a few weeks.” She waved a hand. “I hope everything goes smoothly. Deputy Joe has agreed to keep it in his and Liora’s barn until Christmas morning.”

  Charlotte reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “Well, I can’t wait to see it. For now, I’d better get going. I want to get my order in with plenty of time for Mr. Giddens to get them made.” She stood and gestured to the cups. “Can I help you wash these?”

  Jacinda brushed away the offer. “No, no. It won’t take me but a moment. Thanks for stopping by!”

  “Thank you for the tea.” Charlotte wrapped her scarf around her throat and slipped into her coat before giving Jacinda a hug. “Have a good day. I’ll let you know what I find out.”

  With that she dashed out into the fat flakes that were now falling from the sky. Thankfully Jacinda’s house was on the same end of town as the livery.

  Bill Giddens sat hunched near the potbellied stove in the livery tack room, cleaning a harness.

  Charlotte got right down to business. “Hi Bill. I need you to keep a Christmas secret.”

  Bill set the harness aside and scratched at his long gray whiskers. “Beg pardon, ma’am?”

  Charlotte smiled. “I want to buy the sheriff a pair of boots.”

  Bill’s face lit up. “Oh! Yes’m. That there, I can do. I have all the fixin’s just here.”

  He flipped a canvas cover off the table in the corner. On the table, several pairs of boots were lined up. Charlotte’s gaze immediately settled on the pair on the end. Made of a rich brown leather, they had been hand-tooled and decorated with intricate stitching.

  “Oh my. These are beautiful.” She picked one up. The leather was as fine and soft as it looked, yet felt sturdy enough to last for a good long while. “Would you be able to have a pair of these made by Christmas?”

  “Oh yes, ma’am. I can get right to it. That pair there, they would be seven dollars.”

  Charlotte dropped the boot as though it had just bitten her. Seven dollars! Her heart fell. She thought of the two dollars and six bits in her savings cup. Could she come up with four dollars and two bits before Christmas? She couldn’t think how she would be able to do so.

  “I didn’t realize they would come so dear.”

  “Lot o’ work goes into that pair, ma’am.”

  “Oh, I’m sure it does. I didn’t mean to imply they weren’t worth the cost.”

  Bill nodded. He pointed to a pair in the middle. “That pair there would only run you five dollars.”

  Charlotte twisted her lips as she studied the pair he’d indicated. They were fine, they just didn’t have all the nice details the other pair had. She wanted Reagan to have the best. Her thoughts again flitted to the contents of the teacup on her top shelf and she sighed. Her mother had always said she had champagne taste. The problem was, now that she was no longer teaching, she only had a beer budget.

  So not only did she not know Reagan’s boot size, but she didn’t even have the funds for the ugliest pair of boots on the table. Her shoulders sagged.

  At the reminder of the other fly in her ointment, she turned to Bill. “Do you happen to know the size of the sheriff’s boots?”

  Bill scratched his whiskered chin. “No ma’am. Can’t rightly say as I do. Been some time since Reagan ordered hisself a pair. But if you bring me a sketch of his foot, I can make that do just fine.”

  Charlotte picked up the boot once more and smoothed her thumb across some of the stitches. “How long will it take you to make a pair?”

  “Depends on which pair you want. That fancy pair... I need at least four weeks to make those. These others can be done in three.”

  Charlotte’s heart fell a few more degrees. She set the boot down once more. “I see. Well, I hope to order a pair. I have to”—her face flamed at the thought of admitting that she might not have enough money. Never in her life had she had that issue. Papa had always snapped his fingers and given her anything she wanted. But she and Reagan were determined to make a go of things on their own. They’d both determined that they would never ask a loan from anyone.

  “Your pardon, ma’am?”

  Charlotte came to and realized she’d left Bill hanging in the middle of her sentence. “I’ll let you know by Monday i
f I plan to place the order. Will that give you enough time to get the fancy pair made by Christmas?”

  He calculated on his fingers and nodded. “Just enough time, Ma’am.”

  “Good. Then I’ll let you know.”

  “Yes’m.” Bill hunched onto his stool and took up his harness once more.

  Charlotte bade him farewell and tucked her coat close around her throat as she stepped out into the bracing winter wind and snow.

  She pressed her lips together in discouragement.

  Today was Thursday. She had four days to come up with the money and a plan. Even if she could figure out how to raise the funds how was she to get a tracing of Reagan’s foot without raising his suspicions?

  She sighed and headed toward Dixie’s Boardinghouse. Maybe Dixie could help her figure this out. At any rate she could use another cup of something hot to warm her up before she walked home.

  Chapter 3

  Dixie’s dining room smelled like blueberry pancakes and bacon.

  Despite the fact that she’d eaten a hearty breakfast, Charlotte’s mouth started watering the moment she stepped through the doors.

  Dixie glanced up from where she stood refilling a customer’s mug. “Oh, hi! I’m so glad you stopped by! I could really stand to put my feet up for a few minutes.” She rested one hand on her perfectly rounded belly, then swung her head toward the kitchen in a ‘follow me’ motion.

  Charlotte smiled and trailed behind Dixie’s ever-so-slightly-duck-like waddle. Dixie and the doctor’s first baby was due any day now. Charlotte knew that Doc had been trying to get Dixie to take things a bit easier. He’d even hired both Susan and Belle Kastain to work full time in the kitchen after Susan’s husband William had passed away last March, but Dixie still insisted on overseeing the breakfast cooking.

  Dixie pushed through the batwing doors into the kitchen.

  Steam rose in misty drifts from the double sink beneath the back window. Belle, who’s hands were buried in the hot water up to her elbows, tossed a glance over her shoulder. She acknowledged Charlotte with a dip of her chin before returning to washing dishes.