Lauri Robinson - Snowbound with the Sheriff

Southern Montana, 1886

When Chayston Williams agreed to act as sheriff of Spring Valley, Montana, he never dreamed his duties would include delivering his father’s pretty young mail-order bride to the family ranch in time for a Christmas wedding!

Violet Ritter promised her late stepfather that she would marry the man of his choosing. But she’s shocked to discover her husband-to-be is old enough to have a grown son of his own! And she’s even more surprised by her attraction to the ornery young man....

When a blizzard strands them in the sheriff’s office for two days—and two nights—how will Chayston and Violet stop the fire between them from blazing out of control?

Snowbound with the Sheriff

Lauri Robinson

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Dear Reader,

While writing this story I was reminded of a Christmas when all three of our sons were young. A tradition at our house is that we open the gifts from each other on Christmas Eve, and then at night, while everyone is sleeping, Santa Claus brings his gifts.

That year a winter storm hit on Christmas Eve. Shortly after we’d opened gifts, the power went out. With candles and flashlights, my husband and I put the boys to bed and then started into putting out the gifts from Santa Claus. A few items were labeled “some assembly required” and it took us hours, by candlelight, to get those toys put together. We’d just climbed into bed when the power came back on. We’d completely forgotten to shut off light switches and other items. The lights and noise that overcame the house awoke the boys, who of course rushed downstairs to see what Santa had brought.

I hope you enjoy Chayston and Violet’s story, and I hope you take a moment to relish memories of past Christmases.

With Holiday Blessings,

Lauri

To Janet Turley King who so graciously loaned me her son Chayston’s name.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter One

Southern Montana

December 1886

Spring Valley’s Main Street was only a few blocks long and from where he stood outside Svenson’s Dry Goods, Chayston Williams could see a mile or more up the road where nothing but a sea of bright white snow left from last week’s storm met his searching gaze.

Irritated, Chayston spun around and stomped back inside. Stationed next to the stove, he waited while Lars assisted a customer—ElleDee Scott and her brood of youngsters. When the woman and her children, all boys with black hair who looked just like their father, gathered up their packages, Chayston walked over and opened the windowed door.

“Thank you, Chayston,” she said, “Merry Christmas.”

He had nothing to be merry about—this year, Christmas was just another day to him—but he responded in kind before closing the door behind her.

“Wire said the stage left Cedar Grove this morning, right after the train arrived,” Lars said with his deep brogue.

“I know.” Chayston checked the watch clipped to his pants. “Which means Riley should have been here an hour ago.”

“No telling how bad the road is,” Lars offered. “Stage hasn’t come through since the storm.”

Chayston glanced out the window at the sky again. The nuisance of all this sat like lead in his lungs. He had even less desire to haul the General’s new bride all the way out to the ranch in the middle of the night than he did during the day. It was ludicrous—a man ordering a bride. But the General had, and he’d bade Chayston to see her to the ranch.

A Christmas bride, no less. That really gulled him.

“’Course, others have,” Lars said. “The Johanssons were in town this morning.”

“That’s only five miles out.” Chayston buttoned up his coat and checked the leather strap securing his holster to his thigh. “I’m going to ride out that way.”

“If you’re not back—”

“I’ll be back,” Chayston interrupted. The stage had to be somewhere between Spring Valley and Cedar Grove. The twenty miles through the pass was always slow going, and all this snow could make it treacherous.

That’s all he needed—to deliver a body to the General instead of a wife.

In no time, he had his horse saddled and they headed out. Buster was more than happy to leave his stall after being cooped up most of the week and tossed his head as they took off up the street.

Chayston could relate. Had he known the amount of paperwork that went along with being a sheriff, he might not have taken the job. Then again, considering the way he’d been railroaded, he couldn’t say no.

Just like last year, when he hadn’t had a choice at all. He’d been on the verge of taking a bride, had even bought a ring to give her for Christmas, but it turned out his bride-to-be had been in love with another man. His best friend, Seth Johansson. He sure hadn’t seen that coming. Becca hadn’t hinted toward it either. But she and Shep were married now. With a baby due shortly.

The road was clear and the five miles to the Johansson place went by relatively swiftly. Chayston hadn’t planned on stopping, but Seth saw him coming and ran out to meet him.

“Stage is late,” he said.

“No telling how bad the pass is,” Seth replied. “No traffic’s come through since last week’s storm.”

Chayston nodded. He and Seth had gone to school together, along with Willis, Becca’s older brother. It hadn’t been until two years ago, when she started working for Lars, that Chayston noticed Becca had grown up.

“I’ll saddle a horse and ride out with you,” Seth offered.

“No, thanks,” Chayston said, pointing to the thick, dark clouds rising up over the mountain peak. “The weather’s going to get bad again. You best stay home.”

Seth glanced toward the house, were Becca stood on the front porch. She waved, and Chayston, swallowing the bitterness that still let loose inside him at times, waved back. No one had ever known about the ring he’d purchased, and no one ever would.

Bidding farewell to Seth, he urged Buster into a trot.

The gelding was sure-footed and took to the mountain grade as easily as he’d traveled across the valley. Here, too, the trail was clear, but if snow had let loose it would be higher up, where the road made a long S-curve and the mountainside was the steepest. A couple of miles later, as Chayston rounded the first corner, shouts had him nudging Buster into a faster pace.

Following the road all the way around the curve, he slowed momentarily. Sure enough, a snowslide covered the road a short distance ahead. The stage was there, up to its axels, and Riley was pushing, while his shotgun rider, Coop, was tugging on the reins of the four harnessed horses.

Chayston had yet to pull Buster to a complete stop when a head popped out of the stage window. He couldn’t see much except a thick red scarf.

“Yoo-hoo,” a female voice shouted. She was waving a hand, too. “You, on the horse. We are in need of assistance.”

Obviously.

“Would you mind?” she continued before he had a chance to let his thought loose.