Page 18 of A Texas Christmas Carol

Amazing how much courage that simple touch gave him.

“Good day, Mr. Darby,” Evan said, doing his best to keep his voice bland. Truth be told, he had no idea what he’d done to upset the man. He barely even knew him.

“It ain’t a good day at all, Mr. High-and-Mighty. Not when you backed out of a sale the week before Christmas.”

Ah. The beef contract. Mr. Darby must be a local rancher. One of the fellows Robert had warned him about. A twinge of conscience assailed Evan, but he stuffed it away. He’d done nothing illegal or unethical.

“I’m sorry for the inconvenience you’ve suffered, sir,” Evan said, “but the rising price of—”

“Inconvenience? A fly in my soup is an inconvenience,” Darby growled. “This is my livelihood. But then, you never think about the people behind your choices, do you? All you care about is profit. Well, every choice has consequences, Beazer, and it’s time you faced yours.”

In a blink, Darby raised his gun and pulled the trigger.

The shot exploded.

Evan flinched.

Felicity gasped behind him, then crumpled to the ground.

eight

EVAN SPUN, HIS HEART IN HIS THROAT.

No! Dear God, not Felicity!

He dropped to his knees, uncaring about his awkward descent or who might witness it. All he cared about was the woman on the ground before him. The woman who’d insinuated herself into his heart without permission. The woman whose very essence was joy and light and love. Everything he was not. Everything he secretly wished to be.

“Felicity! Where are you hurt?” He scanned her for blood but saw none. Not trusting his eyes, he reached for her shoulders and started feeling his way down.

Until she batted his hands away. “I’m fine, Evan.”

Too much panic roiled through him to believe her simple words. She could be in shock. Might not feel the pain from wherever the bullet had hit. He splayed his hand at her waist, his fingers probing for a hole hidden in the pleats of her blouse.

“Evan.” Her hands clasped his face and forced him to meet her eyes. “I’m not hurt.” Warmth from her hands seeped into his cold cheeks, and he felt the connection in the deepest, darkest crevices of his soul. A small smile turned up one corner of her mouth as her lashes dipped. “Just clumsy.” Her hands slid away from his face, leaving his cheeks cold. “I’ve made quite a fool of myself, I’m afraid.” She sat up more fully and struggled to untwist her skirt. “The gunshot startled me. I lurched backward too quickly and tripped. I think my shoe heel found a rut.” She met his eyes again, her cheeks pink. “Help me up, please?”

“Of course.” He immediately found his own balance and offered her his hand.

She wasn’t hurt. Hadn’t been shot. Thank God!

But as his panic faded, his anger flared.

Once Felicity stood under her own power and the matrons they’d been speaking to rushed to her side to see to her well-being, Evan turned and advanced, cane ready as a weapon, on the man who could have so carelessly caused irrevocable harm.

Edward Darby’s face paled. “I-I shot high. I never intended . . . She’s—she’s all right, isn’t she?”

His obvious distress took only the tiniest edge off Evan’s rage. His fist clenched his walking stick, but he did not strike. “How dare you! She could have been killed.” Just saying the word made his chest throb. The world would have suffered no great loss had he been the one shot, but Felicity? “Your business was with me and should have been handled in private. Not on a public street,” Evan ground out, moving so close that he could smell the slight odor of whiskey on the rancher’s breath. Disgust filled him. “You were so obsessed with your own loss, you nearly injured an innocent.”

Darby’s face regained its color, turning red as he glared at Evan. “And you were so obsessed with your own gain that you injured an entire crew of innocents!”

If his words had been a second bullet, they would have struck Evan straight in the chest.

“My men rely on their Christmas bonuses to see them through the winter. And I rely on your contract to pay those bonuses. Now they’ll have nothing. Their families will have nothing.”

The accusation itched beneath Evan’s skin. He hadn’t thought of the families and employees of the cattlemen and how they’d be impacted by his decision. Even when Robert had raised the concern, Evan had brushed it away as minor. His job was to tend to his inns’ employees and clientele. The various contractors and suppliers he utilized were not his responsibility. They ran their own businesses. Made their own choices.

Yet a niggling doubt gnawed at his conscience. Not being responsible for someone in business didn’t negate his responsibility to love his neighbor as himself. It had been callous to cancel the beef order so suddenly. He would have done better to warn them of the change and cancel after the first of the year. Two weeks of reduced profits wouldn’t have put him in the poorhouse. Perhaps he had been wrong.

But not as wrong as Darby had been to discharge his weapon in public, jeopardizing the lives of women and children. Catching the eye of the approaching town marshal, whose hand rested on the butt of his pistol, Evan gestured toward Edward Darby with his cane.