A Log Cabin Christmas Read Online Free PDF

desperate measures.
    “I want you to draw a special picture for Christmas,” she said, passing a sheet of foolscap paper to each child, along with a well-sharpened graphite lead pencil. Even Jimmy brightened at the prospect of drawing on real paper rather than on odd pieces of feed sack or whatever cardboard she could find.
    While the three of them drew, she knelt by the fire, enjoying the relative quiet that had descended inside the cabin. Donovan returned and dumped an armload of chopped wood on the hearth and pulled off his duster and hat.
    “You found the woodpile,” she exclaimed.
    He gave a curt nod. The silver star on his leather vest looked bright and cheery in the light of the fire, an odd contrast to his serious demeanor.
    “You could try to be a little more pleasant for the children’s sake,” she said, keeping her voice low.
    He met her gaze. “I don’t like Christmas.”
    “That’s a surprise. I thought it was me you didn’t like.” When he failed to comment, she ventured to ask, “Why don’t you like Christmas?” Christmas was her favorite holiday—or it had been before coming to Texas.
    He took so long to answer she had almost given up hope that he would. “My wife and son died on Christmas Day three years ago,” he said at last.
    She sat back on her heels. “I–I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”
    She’d lived in Maverick for only two months and didn’t have much time to socialize. As a result she knew very little about its citizens. Widow Hancock had been kind enough to let her board in her home. The woman couldn’t hear worth a bat’s wing, so chitchatting was out of the question. Due to the number of complaints about her lenient teaching methods, she stayed away from the townsfolk as much as possible, except to go to church. Even then, she felt like an outsider and left the moment the service was over, not socializing like the rest of the congregation.
    “How old was your son?” she asked, her voice soft.
    “Five.”
    She grimaced. “The same age as Brandon.” She couldn’t imagine what it was like to lose a child, let alone a wife.
    “I’m so sorry,” she said. Though she meant it from the depths of her heart, the words sounded inadequate, even to her own ears.
    Silence stretched between them, and she squirmed with discomfort. She regretted probing into the sheriff’s private life, as that only seemed to make him more withdrawn. Now he stared into the crackling fire as if gazing at something that only he could see.
    Brandon came over to show her what he’d drawn. He seemed less fearful of the fire, and that was a relief. Grateful for the distraction, she gave the boy her full attention. He held the paper with both hands as if presenting something delicate as a butterfly.
    “It’s beautiful, Brandon.” He had drawn a picture of a black bear, complete with bared teeth. Even at his young age, Brandon showed artistic talent. She must remember to write that on his next report home to his widowed mother.
    “I’ll hang it on the wall.” She looked around for the perfect spot. “How about over there by my desk?”
    Brandon shook his head and pointed to the rafter ceiling.
    “No one will see it if we put it up there,” she said.
    Brandon kept pointing, a determined look on his freckled face.
    Sophie looked up from her own drawing. “He wants his pa to see it from heaven.”
    Maddie leaned closer. “Is that why you want me to hang it from a rafter? So your pa can see it?”
    Brandon nodded, and Maddie thought her heart would break. It was all she could do to find her voice behind the lump in her throat.
    Turning his gaze from the fire, Donovan stared at Brandon with a tender, almost wistful look. Without the harsh lines and firmly set jaw, the sheriff looked years younger than his age, which she guessed was around thirty.
    “I know someone else in heaven who would like your picture. My little boy.” His voice grew thick. “His name is Jeffrey.” He pointed to the