A Big Sky Christmas by William W. Johnstone, J. A. Johnstone Page B

the O’Hanlons, “Savannah McCoy. My name is Savannah McCoy.”
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    And so it had been ever since, until even she thought of herself by that name, through performances in countless towns and in Kansas City as the troupe ran through its dress rehearsal before the opening performance, which was the next night.
    She had been lucky. That hotel in Nashville had catered to the theatrical trade, and the O’Hanlon Traveling Company was staying there, too. Cyrus and Dollie had gone out to eat and had been returning to the hotel when she literally ran into them.
    She’d gone with them to the troupe’s performance that night and been welcomed by all the members of the company. Cyrus liked to say that they were like a family and he was the paterfamilias, and it was true. Romantic notion or not, Savannah felt like she had found a home with them.
    She couldn’t imagine anything changing that, at least not any time soon.
    It would take a new twist of fate, a new rendezvous with destiny, to do that.
    She figured she was through with such things.

C HAPTER T EN
    Jamie went back to the hardware store where he had left Sundown and the pack horse tied to the hitch rack. Nobody had bothered the animals, which came as no surprise to him. When anybody but Jamie approached the big sand-colored stallion, Sundown got proddy. Any time he bared his teeth and started moving around skittishly, folks tended to make a wide circle around him.
    â€œThat’s an impressive-looking horse,” Moses Danzig said as he looked at Sundown with admiration.
    â€œHe’s mean as all get out,” Jamie said bluntly. “But he’ll run all day if he has to. Run until his heart busts if that’s what it takes. He’s got as much grit as any horse I’ve ever seen.” He handed the pack horse’s reins to Moses. “Here, you can lead this one. He won’t give you any trouble.”
    They headed for the open area where the immigrants were camped. As they approached, Jamie heard loud, boisterous music. It sounded like several fiddlers were scraping their bows across the strings of their instruments with great enthusiasm, if not a great deal of talent, and the lively tune made Jamie’s blood perk up. He had always enjoyed dancing, although he hadn’t done any in quite some time.
    Not since before Kate died, actually.
    He put that thought out of his mind and watched the couples spinning and whirling around near the big campfire in the center of the area between the circled wagons. People who weren’t dancing had gathered around to watch, too. They clapped in time to the music and called out encouragement to the dancers.
    Not everybody seemed to be enjoying themselves, though. Jamie noticed one man standing off to the side with a glare of disapproval on his stern face. He was tall and heavily built, with a barrel chest and prematurely white hair that grew in a tangle on his head. He wore a sober black suit, and his big hands rested on the shoulders of two children who stood with him—a boy and a girl about ten years old. Jamie looked closer at the resemblance between the youngsters and realized they were twins.
    Jamie turned to Moses and nodded toward the glowering man. “Who’s that? Not your wagon captain, I hope.”
    â€œNo, certainly not. That’s Reverend Bradford. He’s on his way to Montana, too, with his children. I’m afraid he doesn’t approve of the dancing and has made that clear to Captain Hendricks. He says it’s sinful for men and women to cavort around together like heathens. But the captain thinks it’s good for the group’s spirits to have these little celebrations of life from time to time.”
    â€œIs that what they’re celebrating? Just life in general, nothing in particular?”
    â€œWell, in this case,” Moses explained, “there’s another reason. There was a wedding earlier today. R.G. Hamilton married