Christmas Under Western Skies by Anna Schmidt Page B

We can hardly expect him to change his plans, simply because he’s made such an impression on this community. No, we’ve been given a gift—the gift of having him here for a few months.”
    â€œI suppose,” Jacob agreed.
    But on the drive back to her homestead, Julianne could not help but dwell on Jacob’s words. “He’d stay if you asked him.”
    Would he?
    â€œYou’re being as silly as a lovestruck girl,” she admonished herself aloud. “Nathan is attracted to you, but it’s different for a man. Men don’t fall in love as easily as women do.” As easily as I have , she thought and she sat upright, tugging on the reins so hard that Dusty stopped in his tracks.
    She couldn’t be in love with the man, could she? She’d only known him such a short time, and on the heels of Luke’s passing at that. No, surely it was his kindness to the children, the way he had helped Glory and Sam, the ministry he had offered the community as a whole. She admired him, and she couldn’t deny that he had eased her grief with his sunny disposition and the way he had a habit of turning up whenever she needed help or was feeling down.
    Surely, that was all there was to it. It was part of the passage of mourning, part of the path into widowhood, she assured herself. And yet, when she closed her eyes each night, the last thought she had was of Nathan’s kiss, his arms—strong and sure—embracing her, and that smile that seemed to say everything would work out.

Chapter Ten
    O n the morning of Christmas Eve, Nathan and Sam stopped by to pick up Luke so the three of them could go in search of a wild turkey for Glory to cook for their Christmas dinner. Glory came with them, intent on spending the morning with Laura and Julianne preparing pies, corn bread stuffing and spoon bread to serve at their Christmas dinner.
    â€œAnd don’t forget that wishing cake,” Nathan called, as he snapped the reins and Sam’s team of horses took off.
    â€œDon’t let Luke fire your rifle,” Julianne shouted back.
    And as the horses and wagon disappeared over the rise, she heard Luke’s mournful “Oh, Ma,” and she laughed.
    â€œGood to hear you laughing again,” Glory said, wrapping her arm around Julianne’s shoulders. “Love heals all sorrows, that’s certain. Big Luke would be happy for you.”
    Glory and Sam had taken to calling Julianne’s late husband “Big Luke” and her son “Little Luke” on the trail out to the territories. The names had stuck.
    â€œNow, Glory, don’t you start. Nathan Cook is just a good friend to all of us. That’s all.”
    â€œUm-huh,” Glory sighed. “And next you’ll be telling me that tomorrow isn’t Christmas Day,” she muttered.
    Â 
    The men returned in record time, their laughter and excited voices preceding them on the cold afternoon air.
    â€œWe got one,” Luke crowed as he held up their bounty for all to see. “I spotted him and Mr. Foster got off the first shot.”
    â€œI can see that it’s a beauty,” Julianne called, trying hard not to meet Nathan’s grin or notice his cheeks red with the cold and excitement for her son.
    As always, he filled the small room, not because of his size, but because, with him so near, she couldn’t seem to concentrate on anything.
    â€œYou planning to bake those biscuits or scorch them,” Glory asked with a nudge and a nod toward the pan of dough Julianne had absently set on the hot stovetop.
    â€œWhere’s that mind of yours—as if I couldn’t guess?” The older woman chuckled with delight and turned to thrust a wooden spoon filled with cornbread stuffing at Nathan. “Taste this.”
    â€œJust like home,” he said. “Better.”
    â€œJulianne’s a good cook.”
    Blushing furiously and hoping everyone wouldassume the heat from