The Lawman's Christmas Wish (13 page)

“What are we celebrating, Mama?” Dexter asked.

“Reed and Jesus are best friends forever.”

“Cool. Can I have a hot dog?”

Both adults laughed. Reed scuffed an open hand across Dexter's hair. “Tell you what—I think Granny has something in the oven for Sunday dinner. Let's go home to eat so she doesn't skin us alive, then I'll take you sledding.”

Dexter began to hop up and down, shouting, “Sledding.”

Sammy, not to be outdone, followed suit. After a few jumps and shouts, he tugged Reed's coat. “What's sledding?”

Reed scooped Sammy into his arms and headed toward the car. “I'll show you, little man. We'll have fun.”

 

By the time they arrived home, all four of them were excited about the prospect of an afternoon of sledding. They ate quickly and Amy gathered appropriate clothing and gear while Reed scrounged around in the storage building for two old sleds he'd never used.

“The former police chief left them,” he told Amy as he dragged the sleds into the garage and checked to determine if the wooden structures were sound.

“He raised five kids,” she said. “Sleds were a necessity.”

Reed hadn't known the former chief, whose death had precipitated Reed's hiring, but from the evidence left behind, his had been an active, outdoors family. He'd been glad to buy the other man's ranch when the widow decided to leave everything and move to Oregon to be near her now-grown daughters. It had been simple and easy at the time, and he'd even had thoughts of a family of his own someday. Maybe he was having those thoughts again.

“I saw a couple of bikes in there, too. When the boys get big enough, I'll fix them up and…” He bit down on his back teeth and clamped tight.

What was the matter with him anyway, talking as if Amy and the boys were permanent residents?

“I just meant…” He shrugged, helpless. He didn't know what he meant—a real good reason to keep his mouth shut.

Amy took pity on him. She put a hand on his arm. “Ben would appreciate all you've done for us.”

Reed gave one short nod and reached for a rope that he tied securely onto the front of the sled. For once, Ben had been the furthest person from his mind, but apparently not from Amy's.

By the time the sleds were waxed and oiled and considered hill-worthy, the natural exuberance of Amy and her sons had
erased the discomfort of sticking his foot in his mouth. Today was special and they were going to have fun.

Off they trudged through the thick snow to the steep incline surrounding his yard.

“This is the hill.” Reed stopped and pointed down a long, gentle slope. “It should be smooth and easy to navigate. Fast enough to be fun for us. Slow enough to be safe for the boys.”

“And it doesn't lead to a road.”

“I don't get much traffic out here.”

“Still…”

“Right. No roads.” He turned toward the boys, riding happily on the sleds being pulled by the adults. “Hear that, Dexter and Sammy? Safety first. Never sled toward a road.”

“Okay.” Both boys listened with unusual attentiveness.

“If the sled ever goes too fast or gets out of control, you should roll off into the snow.”

“How?”

“Like this.” He demonstrated a slow sideways topple and roll. “It's fun. Try it.”

They did. “Come on, Mama. Try it.”

Amy rolled, too, and then offered to pull each of them on the sled so they could try a roll from a moving sled.

“I'll pull Dexter. You pull Sammy.”

With giggles and squeals, and Amy and Reed huffing and puffing through the snow like Clydesdales, each boy rolled from his sled over and over again, until finally Dexter said,

“Can we go faster now?”

Reed turned to Amy. “What do you say, Mom? Can they go faster now?”

Amy pretended to consider. “They've been good boys today. And it is almost Christmas, when special things happen for good little boys.”

“Big boys, too,” he said.

“Oh, but have you been good?”

He grinned wickedly and hopped onto the sled behind Dexter. “We're about to find out.”

They whizzed down the hill and Dexter's gleeful laugh touched a spot inside Reed. He found himself laughing be cause the child was laughing. Before long he was laughing and shouting just for the joy of living. Voices rang out through the woods and echoed back a dozen times.

They sailed past snow-kissed evergreens and snowdrifts over their heads. Winter birds, stunned by the unexpected disturbance, fluttered in the trees, sending cascades of powdery snow drifting to the trail. The deep green forest was rich with winter life, blinding white snow, and the scent of clean, crisp mountain air.

Each run became another. They trudged back up the hill, dragging the sleds and most often the kids. Reed had trouble paying attention to anything except Amy's face, animated as it was by cold, exercise and delight. Her red hair peeked out from under a beige knit hat, a bright contrast to their white surroundings, and her eyes were bluer than the stunning, clear sky. She hopped up and down, clapping with the same enthusiasm as her children.

At one point, as they gathered the sleds and started the walk uphill, Reed hoisted the short-legged Sammy onto his shoulders. Sammy wrapped his thickly mittened hands around Reed's neck and squeezed.

“Chief Weed,” he said, leaning down against Reed's ear.

“You know what?”

“What, buddy?”

“I love you.”

Something incredible and healing shifted beneath Reed's breastbone. With one hand dragging the sled rope and the other holding the child's leg, all he could do was give Sammy a little knee pat. But he was choked up, amazed, thrilled. Maybe
it was possible after all. Maybe he could do this fatherhood thing for Ben. No, not for Ben. For Sammy and Dexter. He looked across at the woman trudging along beside him. Nose red as Rudolph's, she grinned at him. For Amy, too. And himself. He didn't have to be like his father.

Feeling lighthearted, he reached the top of the hill and settled Sammy into his spot at the front of the sled. “We'll race you,” he told Amy.

Amy pointed at him. “You're on, dude.”

At her signal, they pushed off, running hard for several feet before leaping onto the sled. The wind whipped Reed's face and blew his toboggan cap askew. The sleds ran side-by-side for a while, and teasing insults flew back and forth.

“What's the matter, Officer? Can't you beat a girl?”

“What are you talking about? I'm still in first gear.”

As his heavier weight pulled him ahead, he glanced at Amy's face and laughed maniacally. Not to be outdone, Amy leaned down and forward to shift her weight downhill. With her diminutive size, the effort was of little use.

By the time they approached the bottom, Reed was well ahead. He leaned left to send the sled into a sideways slide intended to stop their progress. He slowed and Sammy hopped off. As Reed prepared to dismount, ready to do a victory dance with the little boy, Amy let out a warning squeal. Her sled plowed into him. Down he went. Amy's sled toppled over, spilling both occupants into the snow.

The next thing he knew, Reed was in a tangle of arms and legs and laughter with Amy.

“You big oaf,” she said, swatting at his shoulder. Against his thick parka, the swats thudded painlessly. Snow glistened in her hair and melted on the warmth of her face.

“You were the lousy driver.” Grinning, Reed reached up to dust the snow from her cheek. Their eyes met and held. Hers were blue and sparkling.

“You have snow…” She touched the corner of his mouth.

It was the perfect moment to kiss her again. From the look in her eyes, she wasn't averse to the idea. Maybe he'd moved too fast the first time. Today he'd leave the decision to her. Breath puffing, heart still pumping with adrenaline, he cupped her cheek. She looped a gloved hand around his neck and her lips curved. Beautiful lips, reddened from the wind and cold, and probably in need of warming.

“You gonna hit me?” he murmured, leaning closer.

Instead of words, Amy answered with action. She yanked his head down and kissed him—fast, sweet and briefly—then gave a great shove against his chest that sent him tumbling back into the snow.

He grabbed at her ankle as her feet spun, searching for purchase in the slick snow. Amidst the laughter and squeals, Dexter and Sammy catapulted into the fray.

An all-out snowball fight ensued. As Reed sat back on his heels, flinging snow and growling like a bear at the little boys, the need for family grew inside him. Not any family, but this one: Amy and Sammy and Dexter.

When they all collapsed, exhausted and breathless onto the ground, Sammy piled onto Reed's lap and hugged him. Reed looped an arm around Amy on one side and Dexter on the other. The rosy-cheeked child looked from one adult to the other and said, “Are you two getting married now?”

Reed's indrawn breath sucked in enough cold to make him cough. Thank goodness. Dexter's question had no answer. At least not yet.

He'd fouled things up pretty badly the day of Ben's death. He saw that now. Pushy, demanding, stunned with grief and guilt, he'd offered to marry Amy because of Ben. For a woman who loved the way Amy loved, his proposal had been nothing short of an insult. She'd never agree to a marriage of convenience, no matter how right it might be. No wonder she'd
turned him down flat. But what about now that they'd spent time together, talked, shared, grown as people and, dare he think it, as a couple? Would Amy accept if he asked again? From her soft, bemused expression, Reed thought she might. Still, he, a normally decisive guy, wasn't certain.

So he took the easy way around Dexter's innocent question and didn't answer at all. Instead, he wrestled the child into the snow and let the moment pass.

The question didn't leave him, though.

If and when he proposed to Amy again, it would be for all the right reasons.

T
he next Saturday dawned with skies white and heavy with forecast snow. Amy was determined that no amount of snow or cold weather would spoil the Christmas tree lighting.

“I can't wait to see the park all lit up for Christmas,” she said to Lindy as they went over the last-minute details of tonight's event. Lindy owned a boardinghouse at the edge of town, and as such was active in Treasure Creek's government.

“We weren't planning to do any decorating until that treasure of yours was found.” Lindy's short brown bob swung with the tilt of her head.

“I'm glad we didn't cancel, Lindy. Even if we're broke, we can still celebrate Christ's birth.”

“But no one except you had the Christmas spirit.” Behind brown frame glasses, Lindy's eyes were thoughtful. “We were all too down, I guess.”

“Well, thank the sweet Lord Reed and Tucker found that long-hidden treasure chest. I'm still amazed by that. It couldn't have been anything but God answering a lot of prayers.”

“You won't get any argument from me. I've never been much of a churchgoer, but I've sure seen a change in people. Since the treasure was found, we've all got a new attitude. Everyone is excited, smiling, helping each other out. Even
Cloris Beacher donated a few dollars to buy oranges for the goody sacks Santa's handing out tonight.”

Amy grinned at the mention of the town's most renowned skinflint.

“See? Miracles do happen.” She ripped a sheet of notes from her plan book, folded them and stuck them into the pocket of her puffy vest. “I think we're good to go, Lindy. You've done a fabulous job helping me put this together so quickly.”

“Me? Honey, I don't know how you do all you do—the pageant next Sunday and the decorations today, the lighting tonight. Your business and the kids. And now you and the police chief are dating. I get tired just thinking about your schedule.”

Amy didn't bother to deny the comment about her and Reed. She'd heard it repeatedly since they'd had dinner at Martelli's, and no one believed her denials anyway. Maybe even her.

Something had definitely changed between the two of them, at least for Amy. She was beginning to believe she could love again—maybe she already did—but she had to be sure Reed wanted her for herself and not because of the promise he'd made to Ben.

She glanced at the sunburst clock hanging above Lindy's desk. “The countdown begins. I'd better run home and get the boys bundled up. They are so excited about putting up the decorations in the park, seeing the live nativity and talking to Santa.”

“See you in about an hour.”

With that parting comment, Amy stepped out into falling snow and increased traffic flowing into Treasure Creek's main thoroughfare.

 

An hour later, Amy circulated among the decorators like a spinning top, stopping often to comment and admire. The
town park bubbled with the season's cheer and the excitement and family feeling of the day's events.

This was the Treasure Creek Amy knew and loved—happy and safe. Even though Reed's investigation had turned up nothing about the break-in or the men who'd frightened her boys, trouble was the furthest thing from her mind.

Bethany and Nate untangled a huge box of lights positioned on the back of a pickup truck, while Casey and Jake began stringing them in loops next to evergreen boughs hung along the wrought-iron fence bordering the pretty little park.

Amy had shut the business offices for the day, so all her employees could participate in the decorations and tree lighting. Friends and community members swarmed the area, everyone pitching in where needed. Laughter and camaraderie punctuated their work.

City workers pounded a platform into place near a giant spruce that served each year as the town's official Christmas tree. From the platform, carolers and the high school band would perform, and Lindy had agreed to give the welcome before Santa, aka Harry Peterson, officially flipped the switch to light the tree.

From atop a cherry-picker truck, Andy Carlson looped lights on the massive spruce and parked a huge gold star on the top.

Ethan Eckles was setting up a sound system. After some feedback squeals that had everyone slapping hands over their ears, Christmas carols rang out from a boom box. Amy stopped on one of her rounds and thanked him.

He hadn't asked her out again since she and the boys had moved out to Reed's ranch, but Amy was determined not to have an issue with her friend and part-time employee. If Ethan's demeanor was a bit stiff at first, she understood.

“The choir will sing later during the lighting,” he said. “But I thought some music while we work would be good.”

“I'm glad you thought of it.”

He clicked the CD onto “Joy to the World.” The scar on his cheek puckered as his mouth curved. “Don't lie. It was on your list.”

She laughed. It was. “But you saved me a phone call.”

“That's what friends are for.”

She walked away humming, feeling better about their friendship. The ladies' auxiliary group had set up a folding table and produced Christmas cookies and coffee to keep everyone going. After the lighting, they were all set to let children decorate cookies of their own. Amy sailed past and snitched a tempting snicker doodle. Jenny, the pastor's wife, swatted her hand playfully.

Heart as full as her mouth, Amy laughed with real pleasure at the way her little town had pulled together in the last year, especially now at Christmas. The best things in life really were free, a lesson she wanted to remember long after Treasure Creek had recovered from its recession.

Delilah Carrington came around the corner and nearly bumped into her. “Amy! Hello.”

Amy was glad to see the other redhead looking more upbeat, though she couldn't help noticing how two men who'd been hanging lights on a storefront suddenly disappeared. She smiled. Delilah's reputation for being a man-hunter wouldn't die easily.

“How are things going? Have you heard from California yet?” Amy asked, hoping Delilah had heard from her friend Ronald.

Delilah's face fell.

“Nothing.”

Amy's heart pinched. She touched Delilah's arm. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked.”

“Don't apologize. You asked because you care.” The woman smiled a little too brightly. “But I'm okay. Really.”

Amy wasn't convinced, but she smiled and waved as the woman headed on down the street toward the park. Delilah was hurting, but since coming to Treasure Creek she'd matured a lot. With God in her life and new friends at her side, she would be all right even if she wasn't married by Christmas as she'd hoped.

A short time later, Amy looked around for Reed and her sons. Sammy and Dexter had insisted on trailing the police chief when he wandered over to his office to check in with the deputy and make sure the town was secure and the event appropriately policed. He and a part-time deputy worked the streets while Deputy Ken Wallace manned the office in the unlikely event of a 9-1-1 call. Sammy and Dexter loved visiting the police station.

She spotted them coming toward her from across the street, Sammy on Reed's shoulders and Dexter holding on to Reed's hand. Cy trotted alongside Dexter, his noble nose touching the child's opposite hand. The scene put a hitch in her throat. She lifted a hand to wave. Did he have any idea how good he was for those boys?

When Sammy spotted her, his little legs kicked against Reed like a horseback rider.

“Mama!” he cried, as if he hadn't just seen her fifteen minutes ago. Using one strong hand, Reed swung her son to the ground. Sammy barreled toward her with Dexter hot on his heels.

“Mama. Mama. Chief Weed let me push his radio buttons.”

“Me, too, Mama,” Dexter said. “He let me talk. I said, ‘Merry Christmas. This is the police station.'”

Amy smiled at Reed with gratitude. No doubt the caller had been a friend, but still, it was a sweet thing to do.

“Impressive.” At that moment someone called her name.
She glanced to where Casey tied a big red bow onto a corner post.

Casey's brown hair bobbed as she waved. “We need one more of these bows and we'll be done. Who has them?”

“I'll check.”

Reed's radio crackled. After a brief conversation, he said, “Fender bender down by the post office. Gotta go.”

“You'll be back before the festivities begin, won't you?” She looked at her watch. “Less than thirty minutes left.”

“I'll try.” He leaned in and touched his lips to hers, then saluted and hurried off, Cy with him.

Amy stood for a moment in delighted shock, watching him walk away. Then, with the boys in tow, she moved through the gathering crowd. Even with the light snow falling, the park was filling with people quickly. Some arrived on foot, others by snowmobile, trucks and SUVs. Doors slammed, motors roared and exhaust mingled with the snowfall. Practically everyone in town would be here, and many from the outlying regions.

The last thought gave her a funny feeling. There had been no further threats, no sightings of the men who had frightened Sammy and Dexter, and with Reed constantly on guard she'd begun feeling safe. Still, a large crowd of people gave her pause.

Surely, though, with all these friends around, nothing could happen. The treasure was safe in Reed's office. The boys were safe with her. No one would cause a scene in public, especially this close to Christmas.

While she convinced herself, someone called her name again.

“Boys, stay close to Mama, okay?”

Two heads nodded and moved closer. “Okay.”

Satisfied, Amy paused to talk with the band director,
who asked, “How many songs do you want before Santa arrives?”

She answered his question and moved on.

“Amy, the caroling choir is ready. How soon should we go on stage?”

She looked toward the platform. Andy gave her a thumbs-up. Everything was ready. “Go on up now and get in place. The band will start—” she checked her watch “—in five minutes.”

She started to move around the carolers, weaving through a sea of gathering bodies. Children's excited voices filled the air. Some hopped up and down for warmth, others out of sheer excitement. Still others tossed snowballs and ran squealing across the open areas of the park. Amy smiled. All was well in Treasure Creek.

“Amy.” Someone caught her by the arm and asked yet another question. She fielded it and several more as she made her way to the area alongside the big tree, where she gave last-minute instructions to three high school girls dressed as elves who would assist Harry in passing out bags of candy. Harry, renowned for being a curmudgeon much of the time, had donated most of the candy himself. And he never failed to surprise the entire town with his jolly portrayal of Santa. Amy had often wondered if Harry's real personality came out at Christmas.

A drumbeat signaled the start, and with a blast of trumpets the band struck up “Here Comes Santa Claus.” The gathered crowd sang along as Lindy made her way onto the platform. Along a cleared path to the left of the giant spruce, Harry Peterson, dressed as Santa Claus, rode up on the town's fire truck. Amy couldn't help smiling at the woman next to him—Joleen Jones outfitted as rather attractive bleached-blonde Mrs. Santa.

“Look boys, here comes…” She glanced down to where
Sammy and Dexter had been not one minute ago. Only Sammy clung to her coat hem.

“Sammy, where's Dexter?” Her eyes searched the crowd, sure her oldest son was nearby. He had to be. “Did he run up to see Santa?”

Sammy's eyes widened at the anxiety in his mother's voice. He wagged his head back and forth. “Uh-uh.”

“Where is he? Where did he go? The bathroom?” There were Porta-Potties lining one side of the park. The area was well lit, but it was not like Dexter to leave her side without permission. Still, he was a little boy, excited about Santa and tonight's events.

“No, Mama. That man took him.”

Fingers of ice gripped Amy's spine.

“What man?” She grabbed her baby's coat-clad shoulders.

“Sammy, what man are you talking about? Did Dexter leave with a man?”

Tears gathered in Sammy's eyes. “The man gave him candy and took him to Santa. I want to go, too, Mama. I want Santa.”

Amy's knees trembled with the news. “Did you know the man? Who was it?”

Please God, let it be one of her guides or someone from the day care.

“I don't know. Can I have candy, too?”

Gripping Sammy's hand, Amy plowed through the crowd, searching for a small boy in a red cap. Concern quickly turned to panic. Where was he?

“Casey,” she said, rushing toward her friend. “Have you seen Dexter?”

“Not in a few minutes. He's probably trying to get close to Santa.” Casey smiled and pointed toward the red fire truck and bobbing white wig. “Look at that crush of kids.”

“Sammy says a man took Dexter up there. I don't see him.”

Casey spun around, eyes wide with concern. “A man. Who?”

“I don't know.”

“Oh, Amy.” Casey frowned, cheer turning to worry.

Jake Rodgers, standing next to her, reached for Casey's hand. “We'll start looking.”

“I'm going to the bandstand.” Mouth dry and fear rising inside like a sickness, she rushed forward. “Lindy.”

The town councilwoman, standing to one side of the platform waiting for her big moment, heard Amy's cry and turned with a cheery smile.

Amy blurted, “I can't find my son.”

“What?” Lindy leaned down, a hand to ear. “I can't hear you over this overachieving tuba player.”

Amy leaped onto the bandstand and went straight for the microphone. The band director did a double take, then signaled an end to the song.

“Is something wrong?” he hissed.

Amy stepped up to the mike as the last notes faltered and died. She tried to keep the panic from her voice. There was no point causing a scene if Dexter was in the line of children.