High-Calibre Christmas

“The rumors were worse than the truth.” She’d been staring at him and now shook her head. “How could anyone not have known you were a Winchester?”

Apparently quite a few people knew. “I’d like to see the papers.”

She nodded and went into the back, returning after only a few minutes. “I heard you were back. I have them ready for you. Also, there are the obits Mark wrote.”

Jace reached for his wallet.

“They’re on me,” she said.

He thought she might apologize for putting his life on the front page of his hometown newspaper. When she didn’t, he said, “You were just doing your job, right?”

“Yes,” she said raising her chin. “And I’m damned good at it.”

Jace had to smile. He liked her, which surprised the hell out of him. Cade had done all right. “I like a woman who stands up for what she believes in,” he said and gave her his cell phone number. “Tell your husband hello for me.”

As Jace left, he glanced across the street, half expecting to see Ava Carris parked on the other side again. But there was no sign of her. He felt an uneasiness as he climbed into the SUV and headed out of town. Maybe there was a reasonable explanation for what she was doing in town and why she was driving a vehicle apparently identical to the one he’d rented.

He glanced over at the newspapers on the seat next to him. One of the headlines caught his eye, and he quickly looked away. Was he really up to reading them?

It dawned on him that Ava Carris could be a reporter who hoped to mine his story further. She could have made up that story about him looking like her husband.

Or she could be a private detective working for the Winchesters.

Neither seemed likely when he thought about the petite, slight woman. But he planned to make a point of asking her the next time he saw her. And he feared there was a damned good chance he’d be seeing her again.

MCCALL DROVE OUT TO THE Winchester ranch, needing to bring the news in person. She hadn’t seen her grandmother since Pepper had come into town to help her pick out flowers for the wedding.

The wedding was now just weeks away. McCall couldn’t believe how quickly the time had gone. A Christmas wedding for her and Luke at Winchester ranch. Sometimes she had to pinch herself. It hadn’t been that long ago that she’d never set foot on the ranch, never seen her grandmother, never been accepted as a Winchester.

Nor had it been that long ago that Luke wasn’t in her life. But he’d come back to town, taken the game-warden job and started building a house south of town with apparently only one goal in mind—getting her back.

McCall smiled, glad the man was persistent. She couldn’t wait to marry him. Her only hesitation was that her grandmother might have an ulterior motive in wanting her to get married at the ranch. That and just the thought of her grandmother and mother in the same room.

She pushed those thoughts aside now as she drove under the wooden arch that read Winchester Ranch. Just over the hill she slowed, never tiring of seeing the massive ranch lodge. It was built much in the same fashion as the Old Faithful Lodge in Yellowstone Park and looked of that era.

As she parked and got out, she noticed that her grandmother’s old Blue Heeler didn’t get up, didn’t even growl, as she walked to the door. The dog just watched her as if uninterested.

Before she could knock, Enid opened the door. Her sour look was more accusing than usual.

“It’s been hell here,” the old housekeeper snapped. Enid was one of those broomstick–thin, brittle old women with a nasty disposition.

Everyone in the family wondered why Pepper Winchester kept her on. Most figured Enid had something she held over the matriarch’s head—and they didn’t want to know what it was.

“Pepper and Virginia have been at each other’s throats,” Enid said as she led the way inside.

Nothing new there, McCall thought. From down a long hallway, she heard the sound of her grandmother’s cane tapping on the old hardwood flooring.

Pepper Winchester was a tall, regal-looking woman. What had struck McCall the first time she’d seen her was how much she resembled her grandmother. Since then she’d seen photographs of Pepper at her age. There had been little doubt that McCall was a Winchester.

As usual, her grandmother had her salt-and-peppered dark hair pulled back in a braid that snaked over one shoulder. What was unusual was that her grandmother wasn’t wearing black.

For the past twenty-seven years, Pepper had been a recluse, locked away in this big place with just Enid and Enid’s husband, Alfred. Her grandmother had worn black the entire time.

Today, though, she wore jeans, a Western shirt and moccasins. She looked younger than her seventy-two years and actually smiled as she approached.

“I’m sure Enid complained to you,” she said as she motioned toward the lodge parlor.

A small fire burned there, taking the chill off the November day. McCall took one of the leather chairs and watched her grandmother lower herself into the other one in front of the fire.

“How is Aunt Virginia?” McCall asked.

Pepper made a face. “Angry, sad, bitter. Pretty much what you would expect.”

McCall thought of Jace’s reaction to the news. “Jace Dennison is back in town for his mother’s and uncle’s funerals.”

“You told him?”

McCall nodded. “He didn’t take it well.”

Pepper chuckled. “He wasn’t glad to be a Winchester?” she asked with a wry smile. “Imagine that.”

“I doubt he’ll be in town long. Just long enough to get his business done, and then he’ll be gone, probably for good.”

Pepper nodded. “I have no idea what Virginia is thinking. She’s still angry at me. All these years she suspected I had something to do with her baby dying.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You suspected that I had something to do with the babies being switched.”

McCall didn’t deny it. “I can’t imagine what I would be feeling if I found out that the child I gave birth to didn’t die but is alive—and thirty years old.”

“Marie will always be Jace’s mother,” Pepper said.

“Don’t you think Virginia wants to see him? I could talk to her.”

“Talk to me about what?” Virginia said from the doorway. She was tall like her mother, with the Winchester dark coloring, but lacked Pepper’s beauty at her age.

“Jace Dennison is in town for the funerals,” Pepper said to her daughter.

Virginia’s gaze settled on McCall. “You’ve seen him?”

“He’s definitely a Winchester.”

“Handsome?” she asked almost hopefully.

“Very. Stubborn. Independent. And probably impatient just like all the Winchesters,” McCall said.

Virginia smiled ruefully. “You’re trying to tell me that he isn’t going to want to see me.”