Her Christmas Protector

“Oh my, is this your ranch?” Her voice filled with awe.

“Welcome to the Circle C,” Luke said with pride.

Faith twisted to look back the way they’d come. “The road is very visible. I suppose you can see cars coming long before they arrive?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” She sat forward. “That’s good. You’re pretty safe out here.”

He arched a brow. “What are you afraid of?”

A huge caramel-colored animal ran along the fence.

“You raise llamas?” She turned her curious gaze on him and left his question unanswered. Again.

The depths of her hazel eyes pulled at him. He debated pressing for an answer, but there would be time enough later. “Llamas, cattle and horses.”

“I’ve never seen a llama up close.”

“They make great pets. We raise them for their coats. Raising llamas is a hobby for my mother. She used to show them, but then people started wanting to buy them so we expanded the operation.

“Our stable is small compared to others who solely raise llamas. Few people realize that Sisters is the llama capital of the United States.”

“Why here?”

“Central Oregon’s climate is similar to that of Peru, where llamas originate. Sisters is ideal, open and temperate.”

“I agree. This place is perfect.”

Luke had a feeling she meant more than just the climate. He stopped in front of the house and his golden retriever bounded up to the Bronco. Opening the door, he received a series of wet dog kisses. “Whoa, girl. It’s good to see you, too.”

Suddenly, the dog’s ears perked up and her head lifted. She dashed out of view before Luke could react, and Faith became the recipient of the retriever’s sloppy love.

Luke rounded the corner of the Bronco and stopped. Faith kneeled with her arms around his dog. The sight made him smile.

“She’s beautiful. What’s her name?”

“Brandy.”

“Luke, what’s going on?” A female voice brought all three heads around to face the house. Reva stood on the porch, her hands on her hips and her red lips pressed into a stiff line.

Irritation pulsed through Luke, but he shook off the feeling. It was only natural Reva would be curious, but her question seemed more accusatory than not. He glanced at Faith, who now stood with her hands clasped together and a polite smile plastered on her face.

He silently retrieved Faith’s bags and guided Faith toward the house. Brandy, he noted, stayed close to Faith.

“Who is this?” Reva asked, her eyes wide, as she looked Faith up and down.

“A guest,” he answered, wishing Reva wouldn’t act so territorially.

Brandy growled then let out a loud bark. Luke understood the dog’s urge to protect Faith. He felt the same protective instincts roaring to life in his veins.

“Tell me what I want to hear,” Vince Palmero demanded of the man on the phone.

Bob Grady cleared his throat. “Sorry, boss. We lost her trail in Portland, Oregon.”

Vince clenched his fist. “How incompetent can you be?”

“We’ll get her. I’ve got men combing the city and checking the trains, buses and airport.”

“Time is running out. Find her!”

Vince slammed down the receiver and pushed back his leather chair from the expansive mahogany desk. He tugged on the collar of his Italian handmade dress shirt feeling as choked with rage as if the Armani striped tie around his neck was being cinched tight. He couldn’t believe she’d done this to him. If he didn’t find her and bring her back soon, his whole life would go down the tubes.

He stared at the framed photo on his sidebar. A stunning smile and hazel eyes burned into his mind. He’d loved her, offered her everything and she’d betrayed him.

She’d pay. Oh, yes. When he found her, she’d pay.

Faith’s sweaty palm stuck to the banister. She wiped her hand on her pant leg as she followed Luke and Reva up the stairs to his mother’s room. Although the initial meeting with Reva went well—the woman had been pleasant enough—Faith could tell that Reva didn’t like having another woman in what she obviously considered her domain.

As they’d passed through the living room, Faith noted the lack of Christmas decorations. Maybe these people didn’t celebrate the birth of Jesus. Whether they did or not wasn’t relative to her safety.

Luke knocked on a door at the end of the hallway. Little butterflies fluttered in the pit of Faith’s stomach. If Luke’s mother didn’t like her, then what would she do? The ranch represented a security she’d only hoped of. She wanted to stay. Please, oh, please, dear Lord, let her like me.

At his mother’s muffled, “Come in,” Luke pushed open the door and stepped aside so Reva and Faith could enter. As Faith passed him, he gave her a reassuring smile and some of the butterflies in her stomach danced for an altogether different reason.

A blast of heat hit her in the face as she stepped into the room. The bedroom was at least ten degrees warmer than the rest of the house. Sweat beads broke out and trickled down Faith’s neck. The dark haired woman lying on the canopied oak bed looked wilted and weak beneath the heavy covers pulled up to her chin.

“Ugh, Reva, it’s hot in here,” Luke exclaimed. “I’ve told you a hundred times not to touch the thermostat.”

“But, Luke, honey, the doctor said she wasn’t to get a chill.”

In long strides, Luke moved to one window and yanked it open. Almost immediately a cooling breeze entered the room.

“Oh, that feels wonderful.” Mrs. Campbell sighed. “I kept asking her to turn down the heat, but she wouldn’t listen to me.”

Luke paused in the act of pulling the quilt off his mother and looked at Reva. The color of his eyes had darkened to a steely blue and his jaw tightened in anger. Faith stepped back.

“I was only doing what I thought best. She’s still recovering from her ordeal,” Reva said defensively.

“The way she makes it sound, I’m still knocking on death’s door,” Luke’s mother muttered.

“It’s only been two weeks. You know—”

“Enough, Reva.”

Luke’s command abruptly stopped Reva mid-whine. She made a face and sat on the edge of a small desk by the window.

Faith marveled that at least one grown man was mature enough to contain his anger.

“Mom, I have someone here I’d like you to meet.” Luke’s voice softened.

The eager-to-please tone and the way his voice dropped a notch brought a pang to Faith’s heart. This big man loved his mother and it showed. She’d loved her parents like that. If only they were still alive.

He motioned for Faith to step closer.

“This is Faith. I’ve hired her to help care for you.”

Faith approached the bed. The gentle eyes regarding her made her think of her own mother. It had been years since anyone had looked at her with such kindness. She knew instantly she’d like the older woman.

Taking the offered hand, she noticed Mrs. Campbell’s skin felt hot and clammy against her palm. “Mrs. Campbell, Luke tells me you’re recovering from a heart attack. My grandfather suffered an attack and I cared for him. I—I hope you’ll allow me to care for you.”

“Please, call me Dottie. I’m sure we’ll get along just fine.”

From behind her, Faith heard Reva snort in disbelief. She turned to stare at Reva. Such disrespect was reprehensible.

“Reva, please,” Luke warned.

Studying her nails, Reva said, “Luke, dear, the housekeeping still needs to be done. Or are you expecting her to do that, too?”

“No, I’m not expecting Faith to do the housekeeping.”

“Good.” Reva hopped off the edge of the desk and stood. “I’m sure Blake would be happy to know I’m helping out. I’ll just stay on and do the housekeeping.”

Faith glanced at Luke. His annoyance was evident in the creases along his brow. Turning his gaze to his mother, he raised a brow as if to ask what she thought. Dottie grimaced with a shrug.

Suddenly, Reva was standing close, pinning Faith against the bed. Trying to gracefully disengage herself from Dottie’s hand, Faith shifted to allow Reva more room. Dottie’s grip tightened and for a second Faith thought she saw a trace of apprehension in the older woman’s blue eyes. She guessed there was more going on between the two women than met the eye.

Though the danger was minimal, the familiar need to protect rose sharply. Patting Dottie’s hand reassuringly, Faith stood her ground, becoming a physical barrier between Dottie and Reva.

“Your dad promised me I’d have a place here, Luke. He did consider me a part of the family, especially after you took off.”

The muscles in Luke’s jaw visibly tightened. “My father and I came to an understanding long ago.” Glancing at his mother, he asked, “Mom? This is your house now.”

“If she wants to do the housekeeping, I suppose that’s fine,” Dottie muttered.

Luke gave a curt nod. “Fine. Just stick to the housekeeping, Reva.”

“Of course, dear.”

Faith noticed the small, triumphant gleam in Reva’s gray eyes. She decided she didn’t like the woman very much. She would have to be careful and keep her distance. Faith couldn’t trust that Reva wouldn’t look for an opportunity to get rid of her.

“Do you smell something burning?” Dottie struggled to sit up. Luke immediately reached to help her.

“Oh, my word! My casserole,” Reva exclaimed. “There’s something wrong with that oven,” she muttered as she headed for the door. “It’s forever burning things.”

“There’s nothing wrong with my oven,” Dottie groused at Reva’s retreating back. “I’ve never burned anything in it.”

“Of course not, mother.” Luke’s smile reflected in his eyes.

Dottie smiled back, and for a moment, the two silently communicated, their bond evident. Feeling like an intruder, Faith moved to the desk and ran a hand over the polished wood.

Deep inside, she felt a familiar emptiness. She would give anything to have someone love her the way Luke loved his mother. In her heart she longed for children, a family. But the possibility of having them was out of reach. She could be discovered at any time, and then what? A shudder racked her body.

Picking up the pitcher that sat on the desk, she poured a glass of water and carried it back to the bed. “Would you like some water, Dottie?”

“Thank you, dear.” Dottie smiled and took the glass. “Sit and tell me about you.”

Faith pulled up a chair. She couldn’t very well tell Dottie the truth. So she did what she normally did and changed the subject. “You have a very nice home, Dottie. I noticed several good antique pieces.”

Dottie’s face lit up. “You know antiques? How wonderful.”

A safe subject. Thank goodness. Faith smiled. “Yes, I do. You have good quality pieces.”

“Well, if you ladies will excuse me, I’ll go get some work done.” Luke kissed Dottie’s cheek.

“You go on, son. We’ll be just fine.” Dottie settled back with a grin.

To Faith, Luke said, “If you need anything, I’ll be downstairs in the office. First door on your right at the bottom of the stairs.”

“Thanks.”

“Sure.” He ran a hand over his short hair and for a moment just stood there staring at her.

Faith raised a questioning brow.

“See you later.” He smiled before sauntering from the room.

“That’s the first genuine smile I’ve seen from Luke since he’s come home.”

“Come home?” Faith asked, still staring at the spot where he’d disappeared through the door, feeling a little unsettled.

“Luke’s a captain in the army,” Dottie announced with obvious pride in her son.

“Right.” Faith smiled at Dottie.

Dottie continued, “He graduated top of his class at West Point. I’m very proud of my son. He followed his dreams.”

West Point. Impressive. “I’m…familiar with the school. My grandfather’s house sat on the opposite bank of the Hudson River. From the top-floor window we could see part of the academy. Had I been born a boy, my grandfather would have insisted I attend West Point rather than my mother’s alma mater, Cornell.”

“I’m sure your grandfather was very proud of you. Blake didn’t want Luke to go. It caused a rift in their relationship for years.”

“That’s too bad.” Faith hoped the rift had been mended before Blake’s death, but she thought it tactless to ask.

As if reading her unspoken thought, Dottie said, “Luckily they patched things up between them a few years ago. Blake was very proud of Luke, too.”

“Was Luke able to see his father before he passed on?” Faith asked gently.

“Yes, thankfully.” Her expression became troubled. “He wasn’t supposed to stay this long but…I had my attack and…well, Blake’s health had deteriorated over the last couple of years, so the ranch had been neglected for the most part.”

Dottie paused to take a deep breath. “The hands that stayed on have kept things going, but it was Blake who made sure the upkeep and repairs were taken care of. Dear Blake just couldn’t give up control. Not even when it became impossible for him to do more than sit and watch.”

Compassion filled Faith. From her own experience with caring for her grandfather she knew how hard it was to watch someone you love die. Especially when that person was as strong-willed as her grandfather had been, and as Blake must have been. Faith held the older woman’s hand. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you, dear. I take comfort in knowing Blake’s with Jesus and someday we will be together again.”

Conviction shone bright in Dottie’s blue eyes, like beacons of light directing the way.

Faith blinked back sudden tears. She wished desperately that she could be as assured of her own place in heaven and to be reunited with her family. But why would God take her to live with Him when He’d shown no interest in her on earth?

Dottie gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Are you feeling okay?”

Faith cleared her throat before speaking. “Yes. Fine, thank you.”

“You must forgive me if I tend to rattle on.”

Thinking it infinitely better for Dottie to talk, she said, “Oh, please. Rattle all you’d like.”

And she did. For Faith, the next couple of hours were a breath of fresh air. They discovered many common interests such as antiques, art, theater and cooking. And Faith was more than happy to exhaust all subjects except the topic of her own life. Soon Dottie was yawning and her eyelids drooping.

“Goodness, I don’t think I’ve had this much to talk about in years.” Dottie beamed as Faith helped her settle back into a reclined position.

“Nor have I.” Faith fluffed the pillows beneath Dottie’s head. “You need some rest now. I’ll come back later and we can pick up where we left off.”

Dottie’s eyes were already closed. Unsure what she should do now, Faith wandered over to a window and stood gazing out at the expanse of land that made up the Circle C Ranch. Never in her wildest dreams had she thought she’d find sanctuary in the home of a cowboy.

Could it be possible that God was watching out for her after all?

THREE

“Have you found her?”

Vince glared with loathing at his older brother, Anthony, slouched in the leather chair facing Vince’s desk. He looked awful. Like he hadn’t showered or shaved in weeks. His hair was too long and his clothes ratty. Vince struggled to understand how they’d come from the same gene pool. “Not yet. I can’t believe your stupidity.”

“How was I supposed to know she’d divorce you and take off? I mean, what did you do to her anyway?”

Vince curled his fingers into a fist. “Nothing.”

“Something,” Anthony shot back.

Ignoring the barb, Vince asked, “What did you tell Fernando?”

“What you told me to. He said he’d wait until New Year’s Day. If we don’t return the money, he’ll kill us.”

Vince spread his hand on the desk and leaned forward. “He can kill you with my blessing.”

Anthony’s dark eyes held malice. “Just remember what I did for you.”

Vince swore and moved to the window.

They’d been teens, running with the other punks in the neighborhood, dealing dope, stealing what they could just for something to do. One night they’d knocked off a liquor store, but before they could get away, a cop showed up and caught Anthony. He’d gone to jail and never ratted on his baby brother.

Anthony never let Vince forget that if he’d had a rap sheet, he wouldn’t have been admitted into law school.

But after twenty years, that card was wearing thin.

“I’ll find her and get your money.” Vince turned toward his brother. “And then we’re even.”

Anthony stood and walked to the door, his tennis shoes leaving smudged tracks in the cream-colored carpet. “Yeah, whatever you say.”

After he left, Vince picked up the picture of his wife. “I will find you. And you will never leave me again.”

Luke couldn’t concentrate.

Every time he tried to focus on the paperwork lying on the desk, his mind conjured up the image of a cat-eyed blonde. Once again his curious nature wanted to know what was going on with Faith Delange.

He shouldn’t be spending time thinking about Faith. There was still so much to do on the ranch. He’d lost two hands last week because they’d wanted to find a warmer place for the winter. His foreman, Leo Scruggs, was having a hard time finding replacements. The roof on the house and one of the barns needed fixing and a llama would be birthing soon.

Ever since he’d returned to the ranch, his life hadn’t been his own. Every day he found himself becoming more like his father. And the more he enjoyed being a rancher, the more scared he became.

This wasn’t the life he’d wanted. He’d wanted excitement and adventure. At eighteen, he’d taken his desires to the Lord and had been steered toward the military. Knowing he’d had God’s blessing, Luke had applied and been accepted at West Point. The years there were grueling, exciting and character building. He’d walked away with a degree in engineering. But the military still beckoned, even after his five-year service obligation.

Now, he held the rank of captain and his position of authority gave him more opportunity to make a difference in the lives of his men. From the beginning, he’d felt he’d been called to share his faith with his comrades, and now Luke was looked to as a source of comfort and hope.

He’d worked alongside the chaplain to form a Bible fellowship study, and he was constantly awed by the power of Jesus’s love working in the men’s lives. He didn’t want to give that up.

He wished his father were still here.

Luke hadn’t known about his father’s cancer until nearly the end.

Your father is ill, the note had read, come home.

He’d arrived just in time to see his father before he’d died. Guilt for not having been there ate away at him. If he’d only been a better son and kept in better touch. He’d have learned of the illness sooner and come home. He’d have been able to make his dad’s final days easier.

And now, Luke was running his father’s ranch and dragging his feet about leaving when all he really wanted was to get back to his own life, his unit stationed in the Middle East. He only had another twenty days of leave left.

He fired up the computer and looked up Faith on Google. A list of articles came up. Mostly charity events where Faith and her grandfather were present. One photo showed Faith in a gray business suit standing beside her grandfather who sat in a wheelchair. He was old and hunched with strong features. The caption read, “The Delanges to start a foundation for overseas missions through a local church.”

Philanthropy, faith, family and money. What was she running from?

A soft knock sounded on the door.

“Come in.”

The door opened and Faith stepped in. He clicked off the web page.

“I don’t mean to bother you. But…well, your mother’s asleep and I don’t know what I should be doing.”

Luke hadn’t the foggiest what she should be doing now, either.

She smiled uncertainly.

Luke stood and moved around the desk. “I’ll show you to your room.”

Faith followed him. “I think this place is wonderful. So warm and cozy.”

“My parents have lived here since they were married. I don’t think Mom has bought anything new since.”

Faith stopped at the bottom of the stairs. Her finger traced a carving in the banister.

“Did that when I was ten. Dad just about blew a gasket.” He laughed slightly. “I can still remember how he lit into me, saying, ‘If you want to carve your name into a piece of wood, there’s a whole stack of firewood out back that you can carve up after you split it all.’”

“He sounds like he was a good father.”

“Yeah. Yeah, he was. Strict, but always fair. Even when we didn’t see eye to eye, I never questioned his love.”

But his father had questioned his son’s love. How many times had Luke turned his back on the advice and instruction his dad offered? Luke would give anything to have that time back, to show his dad how much he loved him.

“That’s wonderful,” she stated, wistfully.

“Did you question your parents’ love?” he asked.

Sadness entered her gaze. “My parents were killed when I was eleven.”

“That must have been tough. Who raised you?”

“My grandfather.”

“The one that had a heart attack?”

She nodded. “He passed on almost two years ago.”

“Have you been traveling since then?”

Her expression became guarded. Wary. “No.”

She moved away from him to stand beside her suitcases where he’d left them in the entryway.

As she bent to pick them up, he said, “Here. Allow me.”

Taking her bags in hand, he led her upstairs, entered the sewing room and breathed in the scent of gardenias, his mother’s favorites, perfuming the air. A dried bouquet of the white blossoms sat atop the dresser. He made a mental note to order fresh ones.

“This is lovely.” Faith walked in and surveyed the room. She gently brushed a hand along the black sewing machine resting on an old wooden table. “Your mother’s, I assume.”

“Yes, Mom loves to sew. She’s made most of her own clothes for years.” Luke could remember wanting her to go shopping like other mothers, but Dottie had always been a frugal woman who insisted her own creations were as good as those found in some over-priced dress shop.

“I like your mother. She’s nice.”

“Thanks. She likes you, too.” Luke was thankful for that. It would make leaving that much easier.

Walking to the closet door, he put his hand on the knob. “Here’s a closet. It’s yours to use and you can clear out the drawers in the dresser.”

“Thank you. You’ve been so kind.”

He acknowledged her gratefulness with a nod. “My room’s next door and the bath is across the hall.”

Faith blinked and asked, “Where does Reva sleep?”

“She has her own house to go to.” Thankfully.

“Besides caring for your mother, is there anything else I can do?”

“You can relax.” He thought back to her strange behavior on the way to the ranch and his observation that she didn’t want to be seen. “Maybe you should tell me what you’re running from?”

Her eyes got big. “I’m…I don’t know what you mean?”

“Faith, it was obvious you didn’t want anyone to see you leave with me. Why?”

She looked at her hands. They were shaking. He took them in his, noticing how slender and vulnerable she felt. “Tell me this. Are you in trouble with the law?”

She lifted her head. “No.”

He could see the truth in her gaze. “Okay. I’ll stop pushing for now. But, Faith, if you need to talk, I’m here. You can trust me.”

Faith nodded, her expression unreadable. “I’ll go check on Dottie.”

The second she left the room, Luke dropped his head on the doorjamb. Great. Now he was offering to be there for her when he knew he would be leaving soon. He shouldn’t let himself get tangled up with her. As along as she posed no threat to his mother. He wasn’t going to get involved.

He just had to stay strong, remember his goals, and not let himself get diverted from his path. Pushing away from the door, he headed out to visit the llamas and to let God know just how much he needed His strength.