A Texas Hill Country Christmas by William W. Johnstone

been going before the fight.
    Seth watched them until they had disappeared around a bend. Then he turned to Delta, who was putting the shotgun back into the wagon bed behind the seat.
    â€œI’m sorry about that—” he began.
    â€œYou ought to be,” she interrupted him. “It was your fault.”
    â€œMy fault?” Seth stared at her. Even though he liked her, he felt a flash of anger at the accusation she had leveled at him. “How in the world was it my fault? You saw the way he came after me. You told Andrews you’d say as much.”
    â€œI saw what happened, yes, but I also know it’s unlikely Mr. Dugan would have attacked you if you hadn’t laughed at him.”
    â€œYou didn’t think it was funny when that stuffed shirt fell in the mud?”
    Delta didn’t say anything for a moment, then replied, “Maybe it was, but you had to know it would provoke him. A man like Mr. Dugan can’t stand to have his pride wounded.”
    â€œA man like Dugan needs to have some of the hot air let out of him now and then. That’s all I did.”
    Delta shook her head and said, “No. What you did was make an enemy. A bad enemy.”
    â€œSome say you can tell a lot about a man by the quality of his enemies. And I don’t believe in running scared from a bully. That’s all Felix Dugan is.”
    â€œI don’t have any interest in arguing with you, Mr. Barrett.” Delta started to climb to the wagon seat. Seth moved to take her arm and help her, but she pulled away before he could. As she settled herself and took up the reins, she went on, “You should be careful.”
    â€œI always am,” he said. That had been a habit of his for a long time, and he hadn’t put it aside just because he had felt the calling and taken up preaching. As Delta clucked to her team and flicked the reins, he added, “I’ll see you and Charlie Sunday morning?”
    â€œWe’ll be there, like always,” she promised.
    Seth watched as the wagon rolled on down the road toward the Kennedy farm. Delta was being careful now to stay in the middle of the path where the mud wasn’t as bad. With any luck she and Charlie would get home with no more trouble.
    As Seth turned toward his horse, he felt a drop of rain strike his cheek. He glanced up at the clouds and said, “More, Lord? Really?”
    Then he felt bad for doubting the Lord’s intentions, swung up into the saddle, and headed for the church, hoping he would get there before another downpour started.

C HAPTER E LEVEN
    Austin
    Â 
    Ace and Chance were in the hotel dining room, just finishing up an enjoyable breakfast, when William Sydney Porter came in, spotted them, and started toward their table.
    â€œUh-oh,” Ace said under his breath. “Here he comes. I was sort of hoping he’d forgotten about what happened last night.”
    â€œI don’t think he’s the kind of fella who forgets things,” Chance said. “Claimed he wants to be a writer, didn’t he? I’d think a gent like that would have to have a good memory.”
    â€œI don’t see why, just to make up a bunch of nonsense.”
    Porter reached the table, grinned, and said loudly, “Good morning, amigos. It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?”
    â€œWell, it’s not pouring down rain right now,” Ace said. “I reckon that’s an improvement.”
    â€œI think I even saw a sliver or two of sunshine,” Chance added. “Didn’t look like it was going to last, though.”
    Without waiting for an invitation, Porter pulled out one of the empty chairs at the table and sat down. A waitress in a starched white apron started toward him. He turned to smile at her and said, “Just coffee, my dear.”
    Narrow-eyed, Ace looked at Porter and said, “You don’t look much the worse for wear.”
    â€œWhy would I be?” Porter asked,