Wild West Christmas: A Family for the Rancher / Dance with a Cowboy / Christmas in Smoke River. Kathryn Albright
Читать онлайн книгу.
href="#litres_trial_promo">Chapter Twelve
Jenna Kernan
This Christmas, I’m pleased to introduce you to an odd couple. Alice Truett is an entitled young miss, determined to prove her metal by bringing the orphaned nephews of her best friend to their uncle, the only man she’s ever loved. She thinks he left her because she failed to tell him that she was a wealthy heiress, but the truth is very different.
Dillen Roach once had prospects, but that was before his father abandoned him, leaving Dillen to support his sister and mother. Dillen once held hope that he could make his fortune and return for Alice. But he failed, and now, instead of returning for her, she’s returned for him with two little boys in tow. He thinks she’s come out of Christian goodness, and she plans to be home for the holidays.
I’ll promise that Alice will be with her family for Christmas, but it won’t be the family she expected.
Come along as Dillen and Alice heal old wounds and give two boys a Christmas to remember.
If you enjoy my story, please let me know on Goodreads or Amazon. You can write to me at www.jennakernan.com. And for the very latest news, follow me on Twitter, @jennakernan, or find me on Facebook.
Merry Christmas!
Jenna Kernan
For Jim, always
Blue River Junction, Colorado, 1880
Dillen Roach held a letter from Alice Truett in one hand and a half-empty bottle of whiskey in the other. The woman had a gift. Every time he had contact with her, she threw his world off-kilter. This time her correspondence marked a death. The whiskey buoyed him as the grief pressed down hard on his shoulders, chest and heart. According to Alice, his little sister, Sylvia, was gone. Dead and buried shortly after her husband, Ben Asher, who had come down with spinal fever. Sylvia had tried to nurse him and had caught the same damned thing. His end had been quick and Sylvia’s had been slow or “exceedingly difficult,” to use Alice’s exact words.
But she’d had time to make out a will and leave her boys to him. Sylvia’s brain fever was the only explanation for such a bad choice. But perhaps she had made it because he was her only choice. Dillen barely managed to keep himself alive and was in no position to take on two youngsters.
The December wind whipped down the street, threatening to tear his battered tan Stetson from his head. Dillen pressed down on the crown, keeping hold of his hat but releasing the front of his unfastened sheepskin coat. The wind sent the sides flapping like the wings of an agitated rooster.