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An adorable preschool-age boy came in the barn.
A bright red snowsuit enveloped his thin frame but instead of a stocking cap, a cowboy hat was perched on his head. A battered black Stetson that looked a lot like the one Lucas used to wear.
He smiled shyly, pressed his cheek against Lucas’s leg and pointed to the foal. “Thatsa baby horse.”
Erin couldn’t help but smile back.
“This is Max,” Lucas said.
“Hey, Max. I’m Erin. It’s nice to meet you. Do you like horses?”
“I like trucks better,” Max declared.
“We’ll have to work on that.” Erin winked at the boy. “So, who does this little cowboy belong to?” she asked Lucas.
“He belongs to me,” Lucas said.
Rocky Mountain Heirs:
When the greatest fortune of all is love.
The Nanny’s Homecoming—Linda Goodnight
July 2011
The Sheriff’s Runaway Bride—Arlene James
August 2011
The Doctor’s Family—Lenora Worth
September 2011
The Cowboy’s Lady—Carolyne Aarsen
October 2011
The Loner’s Thanksgiving Wish—Roxanne Rustand
November 2011
The Prodigal’s Christmas Reunion—Kathryn Springer
December 2011
KATHRYN SPRINGER
is a lifelong Wisconsin resident. Growing up in a “newspaper” family, she spent long hours as a child plunking out stories on her mother’s typewriter and hasn’t stopped writing since! She loves to write inspirational romance because it allows her to combine her faith in God with her love of a happy ending.
Kathryn Springer
The Prodigal’s Christmas Reunion
MILLS & BOON
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Lord, you have assigned me my portion and my cup; You have made my lot secure. The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; surely I have a delightful inheritance.
—Psalms 16:5–6
This book is dedicated to Linda, Arlene, Lenora, Carolyne and Roxanne—an amazing, gifted group of authors it was
a pleasure to work with. Your encouragement, prayers and unfailing patience were a blessing!
Contents
Dear Reader,
Chapter One
Lucas Clayton could have driven down the streets of his hometown blindfolded.
The thought was tempting.
Because not even a moonless night and the light snow sifting onto the windshield of his pickup could conceal the silhouettes of the businesses that sagged against each other in a tired line along Railroad Street.
Jones Feed and Supply. The grocery store. The post office.
Each building held more than just sacks of grain or canned goods or stamps. Each one held a memory. Or two.
Or a hundred.
The town of Clayton, Colorado might have been named after one of his dusty ancestors, but Lucas had never taken any pride in that. Growing up, having the last name Clayton had only been one more expectation weighing him down. One more invisible shackle holding him in place.
Lucas had broken free at eighteen and left home with a beat-up canvas duffel bag, a chip on his shoulder as solid