Small Town Christmas Read online

  Sam didn’t have to worry about looking “sore afraid.” Instead, she had to worry about looking like a complete idiot in the sheep costume Rachel Dean had given her. At least she wasn’t the only one. Being that Bramble was a cattle town, the shepherd’s herd was made up of a good twenty townsfolk and a billy goat that was eating the hem of Moses Tate’s wiseman robe as Moses slept in one corner of the stable.

  “Good Lord.” Shirlene Dalton sashayed up in a pretty white dress and huge wings, looking more like a voluptuous Victoria Secret model than a member of the heavenly host. “If Cindy Lynn doesn’t put a sock in it, this angel is going to deliver something more than good tidin’s.” She winked at Sam. “Hey, honey, I heard you were back in town and pretty as ever.” She reached out and adjusted the sheep ears on Sam’s white hoodie. “Which is saying something in that getup.”

  Sam grinned. She had always liked Shirlene. Of course, everyone liked Shirlene. The woman was not only beautiful. She was sweet and fun-loving. Not to mention filthy rich. At the thought of all her oil money, Sam’s grin faded.

  “I was sure sorry to hear about Lyle’s death, Shirlene,” she said.

  Shirlene’s smile never even drooped, but her pretty green eyes held a sadness that spoke volumes. “Weren’t we all, honey. Weren’t we all.” She flapped a hand that glittered with diamonds. “But let’s not talk about me. How have you been? I can’t tell you how proud your daddy is of you graduating with honors from that big, fancy school. And I know he’s hoping—as we all are—that you’ll start up your practice right here in Bramble.”

  For Sam, opening a practice in Bramble would be like a dream come true. Or half a dream. Her gaze swept over to the stable.

  Ethan was there comforting the animals that had been tied to the rails of the wooden structure. He usually wore overalls, but tonight he was dressed in pressed jeans, a Western shirt, and a blue jean jacket. With the black felt hat pulled low on his head, he looked more like a cowboy than a farmer. At least he did until the baby pig popped his head out of the top of the jean jacket. Then Ethan just looked heartbreakingly perfect.

  “If you feel that way about Ethan, honey, why’d you stay away so long?”

  Sam looked back at Shirlene. Either Shirlene was extremely observant or Sam wasn’t as good as she thought she was at hiding her feelings. Of course, it made no difference now. Tomorrow Sam would be on her way back to New York. The thought caused a lump to form in her throat that not even a hard swallow could remove.

  “Maybe because Ethan doesn’t feel the same way,” Sam said as she plucked at the lumpy cotton batting that covered her sweatshirt.

  “Then change his mind.”

  Sam shook her head. “You don’t know Ethan. He might be sweet, but he’s as stubborn as they come.”

  Shirlene snorted. “Believe me, honey. There was no one more stubborn than Lyle Dalton. The man was convinced I was too young for him. And if I’d waited around for him to make the first move, I’d still be waitin’.” Her perfectly plucked eyebrows lifted. “Men don’t know what they want until you show them.”

  That was easy for a woman who looked like Shirlene Dalton to say. One little twitch of her hips made men go wild. Sam, on the other hand, wasn’t quite as well endowed. Besides, she’d thrown herself at Ethan more times than she could count without a reaction, and her self-esteem couldn’t take any more rejection.

  “Shirlene!” Cindy Lynn’s voice echoed across the front lawn of the church. “I realize you think you deserve special treatment because you’re hostin’ the big Christmas party tomorrow night. But tonight I am in charge, and you need to be with the other angels on the bleachers instead of cavortin’ with the sheep.”

  Shirlene’s eyes narrowed. “If her husband doesn’t wise up and slip that woman a Xanax, I’m going to do it for him. Because if anyone should be tranquilized, it’s Cindy Lynn.” She sashayed off just as Rye Pickett came hustling around the corner of the church.

  “Pastor Robbins is comin’!” he yelled. “He just pulled up into the back parkin’ lot and should be here any second.”

  “Places, y’all!” Cindy Lynn’s voice screeched even higher.

  Not wanting to bring on Cindy Lynn’s wrath, Sam hurried to get to her flock on the other side of the stable. Unfortunately, as she came around the corner of the wooden structure, she ran smack dab into Ethan. His hands slipped around her waist, and she was lifted clean off her boots. As always, the closeness of his large body sucked all the wind right out of her.

  Usually, he released her as soon as he touched her. But this time, his hands tightened on her waist as he continued to hold her inches from the ground. Beneath the brim of his cowboy hat, his deep green eyes stared at her as if it was the first time he’d seen her.

  “Sam.” The word hung in the cold night air between them, not quite a question and not quite an answer.

  “It looks like Ethan was just a late bloomer.” Rye Pickett’s voice cut through Sam’s daze. “First, I saw him at Bootlegger’s with Marcy, and now he’s hittin’ on her sister.”

  Her eyes narrowed. Ethan had been at Bootlegger’s with Marcy?

  Anger replaced desire, and she shoved against his chest until he released her. She might’ve given him a piece of her mind if the outside lights hadn’t clicked off, throwing the front lawn of the church into darkness. The darkness worked much better than Cindy Lynn’s screeches. Before Sam could utter a word, she was being pushed along with the crowd as people hurried to get to their spots.

  Sam no longer felt like being part of the Christmas celebration. But just as she started to make her way through the flock, the doors of the church opened.

  “Hit it, Darla!” Cindy Lynn yelled through the bullhorn.

  The outside lights came back on along with about a zillion others. Twinkle lights covered all the bushes and trees. Multicolored lights lined the windows of the church. And a bunch of Japanese lanterns hung from the eaves of the stable Kenny Gene had built. A stable that was painted bright Bramble High purple and framed by fake palm trees covered in more lights.

  “ ‘And there were in the same country,’ ” Cindy Lynn’s voice rang out. “A country no doubt very similar to the great state of Texas.” There was a mutter of “amens.” “ ‘Shepherds abiding in the field, keepin’ watch over their sheep by night.’ ”

  The townsfolk sheep all started to baa, except for the goat who continued to munch on sleeping Moses’ robe. “ ‘And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them.’ ” When nothing happened, Cindy yelled louder. “And an angel of the Lord came upon them!”

  A spotlight suddenly shone on the stable. And with a creak of rope, Kenny Gene rose above the huge star on the very peak. He might’ve looked pretty authentic if not for the cowboy hat and the shovel of poop in his hand.

  “I ain’t ready,” he said. But when Cindy Lynn hissed at him through the bullhorn, he stopped looking for a place to drop the pooper scooper and spoke his lines.

  “Don’t be scared, for I bring y’all tidin’s of great joy that will be to all folks. For unto yew is born this day in the city of David, a Savior, which is Christ the Lord. And this will be a sign onto y’all; Yew shall find the babe wrapped in swallowin’ clothes and lyin’ in a manger.”

  On cue, Mary leaned over the tiny wooden manger. Since Faith and Hope looked identical in their costumes, Sam wasn’t sure which Mary it was until Slate Calhoun stepped up. He looked down at Faith with so much love that tears welled up in Sam’s eyes. But they evaporated quickly enough when Faith lifted the baby Jesus from the manger.

  It had to be the scariest-looking doll Sam had ever seen in her life. With its vacant glass eyes and sneering expression, the porcelain face could only be described as demonic. And Rufus Miles, who was perched on Hope’s hip waiting for his turn at baby Jesus, must’ve thought so too. Rufus took one look at the doll and let out a bloodcurdling howl that sent shivers up Sam’s spine.

  The howl frightened Lowell’s cow so much that he jerked back on h