Judith Stacy - All a Cowboy Wants for Christmas - Waiting for Christmas / His Christmas Wish / Once Upon a Frontier Christmas

“Well, yes, but—”

Chatter rose from the ladies once more, a cacophony of questions, comments and demands for information.

Mrs. Tuttle raised her hands, quieting the group.

“Please, Miss Carrington, do tell us what you think,” she told her.

“Come on, Marlee,” Becky said, grabbing her hand and yanking her to her feet. “Tell them.”

She’d never been called upon to speak at a meeting before, to offer an opinion or a suggestion. In Mrs. Montgomery’s employ she’d been relegated to keeping notes. She couldn’t recall a time when she’d even spoken aloud. But what could she do?

Marlee faced the group and drew in a calming breath. Dozens of faces stared up at her, waiting for her to speak. Marlee’s heart raced. She hardly felt adequate to speak to the ladies. She’d only been in Harmony a short while, and she could only imagine how much effort the ladies had already put into the Christmas festival. But she had, after all, organized a number of charity events before and she did, in fact, know what to do.

“It seems to me that securing the Barrett Family Singers is your best bet for bringing in a big crowd. I think that’s the key to the success of the festival,” Marlee said. “The only situation to deal with is how to find more visitors and get them to Harmony.”

“And how do you propose we do that?” Mrs. Tuttle asked.

“I think we should bring them in by train,” Marlee said. “There are three towns nearby, the farthest less than an hour away. We could get the railroad to put on extra runs during the festival.”

“But how would we get the people to come?” someone called. “We can’t round them up like cattle and herd them onto the passenger cars.”

“We could get the Harmony newspaper to print flyers and posters and have some of your young men distribute them in those towns. We could purchase small advertisements in neighboring towns announcing the festival and the performances by the Barrett Family Singers,” Marlee said.

“Everybody will want to come hear them sing,” a woman in the back of the room called out.

Marlee gestured toward Heddy Conroy, the minister’s wife she’d met earlier. “You could write to the churches in those towns and ask their ministers to announce our festival to the congregations.”

Mrs. Tuttle’s frown eased a little, but she still didn’t say anything.

“Someone from Flora’s Bake Shop or one of the restaurants could ride the trains and sell cookies or candy, or something more substantial to eat during their journey,” Marlee said. “Maybe members of the church choir might be onboard as well, and lead everyone in Christmas songs.”

“That would really put them in the Christmas spirit—before they ever set foot in Harmony,” Harriet Goodwin said. “They’d tell their friends back home.”

“I think the mayor, or you, Mrs. Tuttle, might be on hand at the train station to greet our visitors,” Marlee said. “Perhaps some of the business owners might send a representative to direct them through town. Who knows, some of them could decide they like Harmony enough to move here?”

Mrs. Tuttle drew in a breath, then let it out slowly. She nodded at Marlee before turning to the ladies.

“I think our Christmas festival would benefit greatly from Marlee’s suggestions,” she said. “I say we put them into action at once.”

A round of applause followed Mrs. Tuttle’s words.

“Oh, Marlee, I’m so glad you’re here,” Becky declared.

Marlee glanced around the room at all the smiling, happy faces turned her way.

“I’m glad I’m here, too,” she said.

Carson muttered a curse as his elbow slid off the edge of his desk, jarring him back to reality. Annoyed, he pushed himself upright and grabbed a paper from the large pile stacked in front of him.

He’d set up his office this way, with an outer reception area and this inner office where he worked. He’d placed his desk in a certain spot, at an angle that allowed him to look out the window to Main Street for those few moments when he needed a break from his work and a glimpse at another human being.

For the last few days, all he could do was stare out the window.

What the hell was wrong with him? He’d been so intent on gazing out the window that he wasn’t tending to business. He had a lot of things to take care of, all of them far more important that the goings-on outside on Main Street.

Carson’s gaze swung from the letter in his hands, out the front window again. Work had been underway along Main Street for days now as Christmas decorations were being displayed. Large wooden red-and-white-striped candy canes had been nailed to all the posts along the boardwalk. Men had climbed ladders to string evergreen boughs across Main Street. Merchants were putting wreaths and candles in their windows.

Leaning slightly to his left, Carson caught a glimpse of several young women on the boardwalk across the street carrying market baskets. He followed them with his gaze searching their faces. They were clustered together so he couldn’t see all of them clearly. They came closer and he recognized Audrey Meade and her younger sister.

Carson sprang from his chair. If the Meade girls were there, that must mean—

He dodged around his desk and planted himself in front of the big display window that bore the name of his business. His gaze swept the group of young women across the street. Audrey, Becky, the barber’s daughter whose name he could never remember, that girl who worked at the—

Marlee.

His breath caught at the sight of her and a heat enveloped him. The same heat had plagued him for days, kept him awake at night and prevented him from tending to all the important matters that required his attention.

Still, he couldn’t drag his gaze from her. He watched as Marlee and the others set about tying wide red ribbons to the posts outside Flora’s Bake Shop. The task must have been more fun than he imagined because all of them were smiling, chatting. Becky said something. As he watched, Marlee’s grin turned into a full smile, then she broke out laughing. All the girls laughed with her.

What was it? Carson wondered. What had Becky said that transformed Marlee’s already lovely face into one of such merriment?

The day was cold but windless and the high sun overhead sent its rays down onto the girls. When Marlee turned her head, her hair seemed to shine with hints of red, at least all he could see of it under her bonnet.

He wondered what her hair looked like beneath that bonnet. He’d caught a glimpse of it in Willard Meade’s store when he’d seen her peek through the curtained doorway from the back room. Silky and soft, surely. He’d had an overwhelming urge to go to her, touch her locks, coil them around his fingers.

An urgency grew in him with predictable results at the memory of later that evening when he’d found her alone in the alley. How lovely she’d looked in the moonlight. Then, how she’d tried to pull a gun on him to scare him away.

Carson’s desire for her grew. She was a proper young lady raised among polite society back east. He hadn’t expected her to attempt to bluff her way out of their encounter in the alley. She had spirit—something else he hadn’t expected of her—which was probably the reason he’d kissed her.

Placing his palms against the cold glass of the window, Carson leaned in as he watched Marlee and her friends across the street. He’d kissed her, all right. It was hardly the way he conducted himself, certainly not the sort of thing he made a habit of doing. Surely every mama in town had pushed a young lady or two his way, hoping for a match. Carson didn’t have time for matters of the heart. Business, making money, securing a solid financial footing was what mattered.