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A Holiday Hero
Renee Gray doesn’t believe in fairy tales—not even at Christmastime. But when a wounded stranger collapses on their porch, her daughter, Tessie, believes they’ve discovered a handsome Prince Charming. Though he has his own reasons for shutting out the world, Rusty Calhoun can’t resist little Tessie’s invitation to play a king in the church Christmas pageant. Renee and Rusty have both built up walls as tall as castles, but as their trust and love grow, they wonder whether real life can include a little storybook magic.
Return to Dry Creek: A small Montana town with a heart as big as heaven
“Did Santa bring me a prince for Christmas?” Tessie whispered as she peered down at the stranger.
Renee blinked. “No, sweetheart. He’s not a present.”
Her daughter had longed to meet a prince since the night of her first bedtime fairy tale. Renee had tried to tell her that those kinds of princes did not exist. And, if they did, they didn’t go calling on bunkhouse cooks and their little girls. But Tessie never quite believed her.
“But what if he is a prince?” Tessie stepped closer to the phone and asked the operator. Then she turned her back, no doubt hoping Renee couldn’t hear, and whispered, “Mommy doesn’t know what a prince even looks like.”
“That’s not true—” Renee began and then stopped. She wasn’t going to get into a ridiculous argument like this. Renee intended to keep her daughter safe from strange men even if Tessie was angry about it. Her daughter could afford to fall in love with fairy-tale princes, but Renee could not.
JANET TRONSTAD
grew up on her family’s farm in central Montana and now lives in Pasadena, California, where she is always at work on her next book. She has written more than thirty books, many of them set in the fictitious town of Dry Creek, Montana, where the men spend the winters gathered around the potbellied stove in the hardware store and the women make jelly in the fall.
White Christmas in Dry Creek
Janet Tronstad
MILLS & BOON
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Be not forgetful to entertain strangers, for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.
—Hebrews 13:2
I am grateful for the many who prayed for my sister, Margaret, when she was ill with cancer. She is now dancing in heaven with Jesus, but your prayers made her feel so loved here on earth. Thank you.
Contents
Chapter One
A blizzard swept across the empty fields outside of Dry Creek, Montana, freezing the night air and throwing snowflakes against the two-story house that stood in the middle of the sprawling Elkton cattle ranch. Inside the home, Renee Gray knelt on the hardwood floor, one hand gripping a phone and the other frantically searching for a pulse in the neck of the unconscious stranger lying in front of her. She was still in shock at finding him slumped over the porch railing a few seconds ago, a saddled horse close to him and what looked like a wolf barely visible some yards behind him in the falling snow.
The wolf hadn’t looked menacing, but the man did.
After the scary times she and her five-year-old daughter, Tessie, had endured with her ex-husband, Renee had been careful not to let any man who looked like this one—virile, strong and maybe dangerous—into their lives. And yet, here he was right on the floor in front of her and in desperate need of help.
With relief, she found his heartbeat. It was weak but steady. She’d already called 911 and the operator was off-line connecting with the ambulance company, so Renee relaxed enough to glance over at Tessie. It was past the girl’s bedtime, but she didn’t show any sign of fatigue as she leaned over the strange man protectively, her frail frame trembling with excitement.
“Is he a prince?” Tessie whispered in awe as she peered down at him. She wore cardboard angel wings on her shoulders and one of them tipped precariously. That didn’t stop Tessie from reaching out to the black hair that curled against the man’s forehead. Equally dark stubble covered his face. His skin was so white from cold that it almost matched the color of her wings. “Did Santa bring him for Christmas?”
Renee blinked. “No, sweetheart. He’s not a present.”
The two of them had been in the living room putting the last of the tinsel on their Christmas tree when the girl insisted she heard a thump outside. They both went to the door and Renee managed to use a rug to drag the man inside while keeping a watch on the darkness to be sure the wolf was gone.
“Don’t touch him,” Renee added as she covered the phone with her hand.
Tessie pulled back and nodded, but she kept looking at the man—particularly at the brown mole high on his left cheek.
Her daughter had longed to meet a prince since the night of her first bedtime fairy tale. Renee had tried to tell her that those kinds of princes did not exist, and if they did, they didn’t go calling on bunkhouse cooks and their little girls. But Tessie never