Christmas for Ransom by Tanya Hanson

Ransom tended Nitro.
    “Fine horseflesh here,” she called out. “I wonder how Crusty managed to escape those marauders.” Her thoughts turned suddenly dark as she recalled the main purpose of their quest. “If we’d had any inkling Perkins was close by, why, we could have stood guard in the barn. Instead….”
    “Likely Perkins picked a holiday on purpose. Folks distracted with food and family. You couldn’t have known.”
    A horse in the stall nearest her started up a friendly whicker, and she could barely hear Ransom’s soft drawl over it. Not for the first time, she wondered how his velvet voice would sound in her ear murmuring words of love. Suddenly she recalled how her twice-time lover Royal at Desolation hadn’t as much as said her name. She pushed the ugly memory away and thought back on Ransom’s kiss instead. Even now, her bosoms tingled underneath the thickness of her woolen cardigan and suede vest.
    “You’re probably right,” she said right as the cold nose of the happy-sounding horse nestled against her neck. “Why, hello, pretty one.” She turned to rub the horse’s muzzle and stiffened at the equine eyes staring at her. Recognition sparked from her own eyes as well. Oneida. Inside her chest, luck, joy, too many other emotions swirled like a flock of geese. “Ransom?”
    “Yes, darlin’?”
    Even in her tension, his new name for her dripped like honey off his tongue. He strolled quickly to her side.
    “This mare. She’s got a white blaze and socks, but I swear she’s Granny’s sweet girl from home, Oneida.” Her fingers splayed across the white splotch on the mare’s nose.
    “You sure?”
    She nodded. “I’d swear it before God Himself. Do you think…”
    Ransom nodded, words coming soft and slow. “Could be, I reckon.”
    She grabbed his hand in fervor. “I reckon outlaws are masters with paint and disguise. Let me see if she’s wearing the Stony Brook brand. An S and a B facing each other.”
    “What?”
    “You know your letters well enough.” Impatient, she grabbed his hand, tried to ignore the sizzle as their skin met while she traced the letters into the inside of his palm. “Let me check out her flank.”
    In a flash, she located a brand, but her fingers found two B’s facing each other. Disappointment came from her throat in an angry puff.
    “Don’t matter,” Ransom said, mild, and took her hand like she’d done his. “Likely fixin’ brands is easy enough for somebody skilled with it.”
    “Of course. Add some loops to get a B. Oh, goodness. It’s her. I know it.” She kissed Oneida’s muzzle. “I should get Firewalker stabled next to her. They can catch up on their gossip. Are you done here? I need to talk to Crusty. This will be Granny’s best Christmas gift, I promise you.”
    She grabbed Ransom’s hand and gasped as they entered the dark night, frigid now by any standards. The moon hid. Snow was on its way. Inside the house, the hot air almost thickened inside her nose. Maybe she was more an outdoor girl than she’d ever thought before.
    “Crusty?”
    “Shhhhh.” The old man, wrapped in a gentlemanly dressing gown that had seen a better year, came through the dark hall. “Mother fell asleep over her knitting. But there’s dried chokecherry pie leftover from supper, and I brewed you up some fresh Arbuckle’s.”
    “That’s good. Thanks. But Ida’s Christmas mare, Crusty. I…” Eliza wasn’t sure how to proceed. She couldn’t very well accuse a decent God-fearing man of acquiring a stolen horse for his wife’s Christmas present. “Where’d you get her?”
    Crusty shrugged. “Young man from a ranch outside Odessa fell on hard times. The Double B. Came through the territory with a string of ponies.”
    “How long ago?”
    “Three days, no more.”
    Eliza’s heart sank. There was no reason to ask for a bill of sale. If a horse could be disguised so expertly, forging a fake document couldn’t be hard at all.
    “Fine looking