To my Trask cousins, scattered around the US now, but who grew up in the ranching life near Worden, Montana. I recall some early Christmases in both Montana, and in Cody, Wyoming, where my father was raised. My cousins figured largely in those memories and remain important to me.

Dear Reader,

      My years as a writer of Regency-era historical fiction were preceded by earlier times as a writer of Westerns. My first successes came writing about Native Americans, soldiers, stockmen, miners and mountain men and were somehow hardwired into my writer’s brain. They remain there even now, except for occasional excursions into writerly territory.

      I sometimes have to plead for a chance to write about the American West, but it’s always worth it. I’ve known cowboys and Indians and miners, and I know them to be a fairly taciturn lot, not fans of flowery conversation or anything smacking of insincerity.

      Nineteenth-century ranching was a hard life, and Christmas sometimes got short shrift. Ranchers and sheepherders probably understand better than most the kind of desperation that will force a young father and mother to gladly take whatever humble space was offered in a barn. They knew a lot about mangers and hay, and necessity.

      I can almost guarantee other Christmas stories you read will be far more flowery and romantic than this one. What you’ll find in Christmas Dance with the Rancher is courage, doing what the day requires and deep emotion welling up from hearts that, although hardy, are tender.

      The best of the holiday season from my part of the West, Idaho.

      Carla Kelly

      Contents

       Dedication

Dear Reader

Chapter One