Page 1 of The Sound of Sleighbells

Chapter One

Branding Iron, Texas

November 1998

“Mommy, when is Daddy coming home? Will he be here for Christmas?”

As she tended the bacon on the stove, Ruth McCoy felt the words tear at her heart—not for herself but for her four-year-old daughter, who couldn’t understand what her father had done or why he was gone.

Nearly a year had passed since Ed’s abuse had turned deadly dangerous. He’d gone to prison, and Ruth had filed for divorce. He would never harm his family again. But little Tammy had been too young to understand. She was still too young.

“When is he coming home, Mommy?” Tammy tugged at Ruth’s shirttail.

“He isn’t coming home, silly. He’s in jail!” Six-year-old Janeen strutted into the kitchen, dressed in her Saturday play clothes. “He did something bad, and he’s never coming home again!”

“No! Don’t say that!” Tammy burst into tears. Sobbing, she ran out of the kitchen.

“Janeen, you know it hurts your sister’s feelings when you talk like that,” Ruth scolded gently.

“Then why does she keep asking? She knows it’s true.”

Ruth sighed as she turned the bacon in the big cast-iron skillet. Ed had never abused his daughters, and they hadn’t been there on the day he was arrested. Each of the girls had her own way of dealing with the loss of their father. Janeen’s way was to act as if she didn’t care. But Ruth knew that she was as deeply affected as her sister.

With Christmas less than six weeks away, Ruth was desperate to make the holiday a time of healing. She’d set aside some money for a tree and some presents. But would that be enough? Where would the joy come from?

“Can I please have an Eggo, Mom?” Without waiting for an answer, Janeen opened the freezer, found the frozen waffles, and popped one in the toaster.

Count your blessings, Ruth admonished herself as she set a carton of eggs on the counter next to the stove. She had food on the table and a home for her family. She had a good job as custodian at the local elementary school. Her three children were healthy, and Ed was out of their lives. After a psychiatric examination had determined his fitness to stand trial on charges of kidnapping and attempted murder, he’d been sentenced to thirty years behind bars, without parole.

Things were all right now, maybe as good as they’d ever been. But for a woman whose life had been one long string of disasters, worry was second nature.

She was draining the bacon on a paper towel when she heard the sound of a squeaky bicycle wheel outside. That would be her fifteen-year-old son, Skip, coming home from his morning paper route. His footsteps crossed the porch, and he opened the door.

“That bacon smells great. I’m starved.” He was a handsome boy, with light brown hair and blue eyes. His face was ruddy with cold. Since his stepfather’s arrest, Skip had become the man of the family. He took his responsibilities seriously. Maybe too seriously, Ruth thought.

“Eggs over easy?” she asked.

“You bet. And maybe Janeen can toast me one of those Eggos.”

“Toast it yourself,” Janeen said. “Just because you’re a boy, that doesn’t mean I have to wait on you.”

Skip just grinned. “I’ll go wash up.”

“Make it quick. And tell Tammy that breakfast is almost ready.” Ruth cracked two eggs into the sizzling bacon grease. The electric stove was old, as was the house. But it was just a rental until she could sell her land and buy something nicer.

After Ed had dynamited their old farmhouse—with Skip and his friend Trevor barely escaping death inside—she’d counted on the insurance claim to pay for a new place. Then the letter had come from the insurance company. Since her husband had blown up the house himself, the loss had been ruled as arson, which wasn’t covered by the policy. Her only recourse was to sell the forty acres of used-up land the house had stood on—land that had been in her family for three generations. So far, there’d been no offers.

“Mom, can I go to Trevor’s today?” Skip asked as the family sat down to breakfast.

“Sure. I’ve got some errands to run after breakfast. Can I drop you off? It’s chilly out.”

“Thanks. That would be great.”

Ruth was grateful her son had such a good friend. They’d been neighbors until the explosion last year. Now, with Ruth’s move to town, and with Skip in high school while Trevor was in ninth grade, it was harder for them to spend time together. But they managed, usually on weekends.

With breakfast out of the way, Ruth took a few minutes to make herself presentable before going out. She’d never fussed much with her appearance. But now that she was single and had her own money, it was a pleasure to indulge in some good makeup and get her reddish-brown hair cut in a fashionable pixie.

She’d been a pretty, popular girl in high school before getting pregnant by her biker boyfriend. Like Ed, Judd had gone to prison. She sure could pick them, she thought wryly. She’d never even told Judd about the baby. Instead, she’d found Tom Haskins—a good man who’d wed her while she was pregnant with Skip. They’d lived in Cottonwood Springs, where Tom had found a job managing a service station. She’d counted herself lucky—until her husband was killed in a robbery, leaving her with a young son to raise alone.

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