Christmas Cowboy Kisses: A Family for Christmas / A Christmas Miracle / Christmas with Her Cowboy

“How long have your folks been gone?” Gideon asked quietly from behind her. She felt the warmth of his big body and wondered if he hadn’t moved to keep the draft from the door off her while she milked Daisy.

“It’s been four years, since I was sixteen. They apparently got hit by a log while they were crossing the stream on their way home from town. It must have tipped the wagon and they were caught beneath the lumber Pa had bought there. The weight of it was too much for them and they drowned before they could get free. Our neighbor found them and managed to pull them from the water, but it was too late to do more than bring them home.”

“We never know why things happen as they do,” Gideon said quietly. “I often wondered why my wife died in childbirth as she did. I had to find a wet nurse for Joseph. She lived with us until he was six months old, when I began to feed him from the table and taught him how to drink from a cup. My housekeeper took over his care when the wet nurse had a chance to go to a family that needed her more. She was a lifesaver for me and for Joseph, of course. But it was good for me to take over his care as much as I could after I came home from work. Mrs. Bates had her hands full with cooking and cleaning and such, so Joseph and I spent a lot of time together. We’ve become much closer than most father and sons, I think. He means the world to me.”

“Well, I’m pleased to have you with us for Christmas, Mr. Burnley. Perhaps you can even help me chop down the tree I’ve had my eye on.”

“First off, why don’t you call me Gideon, ma’am?” he asked nicely.

“I will if you can bring yourself to stop calling me ma’am and call me Joy instead.”

He grinned at her and she was warmed by his smile. She stood and lifted the milk pail, not surprised when he reached to take it from her hand. He placed it by the barn door and then turned back to her.

“Where will I find the straw to put in the stalls?” he asked.

“I’ll show you, Gideon. Follow me.”

She went to the backdoor and slid it open, revealing the small corral and the straw stack that was covered in piles of snow. Gideon set her aside and stepped outdoors, pitchfork in hand. “I’ll toss it in if you can push it to one side until there’s enough for the stalls,” he said. He stuck the pitchfork into the hollowed-out space from which she’d dug straw for the past months and turned back around with the fork piled high. In a quick movement he sent it sailing into the barn and Joy nudged the straw to one side, then awaited the next load.

In just a few minutes Gideon had tossed enough straw inside for the stalls and he came back into the barn, pushing the door closed behind himself. “It’s not so bad out back. The wind is broken by the barn and it makes it easier to work when you’re not being blown hither and yon.” He laughed as he turned to fork up the straw and spread it in the stalls. “This won’t take at all long now. Why don’t you let the cow out of her stall and into the aisleway while I clean her space and then give her a share of this stuff.”

Joy undid Daisy’s lead rope from the manger and backed her up, giving Gideon room to toss the soiled debris from her stall and then replace it with the clean bedding. When he’d completed his chore, she led the cow back to her breakfast and Daisy immediately tucked into the fresh hay, lowing contentedly as she did.

“I’m about done out here,” Joy said. “And it looks to me like you’ve finished all my chores for me, Gideon. I surely do appreciate it. Now to carry this milk into the house. I usually leave it in the milk house until the next milking, but I think I’ll just take it on in with me and let you pick up last night’s bucket from the milk house, if you will. It’s just to the left of the door, with a towel draped over the top. We’ll put them both in the pantry and by tomorrow I’ll have enough cream for churning.”

“I’ll be glad to carry both pails, Joy. I think I can manage if you’ll hold this one while I get the other from the milk house.”

Joy tucked her shawl around her head and inside her coat collar, readying herself for the blast of wind that would surely be waiting on the other side of the door. Gideon led the horse into his stall and closed the door behind him, and then they stood by the wide barn door, both of them obviously dreading the trek back to the house.

“Might as well set out. It’s going to be hard going, no matter how long we wait to begin,” Joy said, inhaling deeply of the warmer air inside the barn. She watched Gideon open the door and pick up the milk pail as he waited for Joy to pass in front of him. She set out, ducking to keep her face inside her warm shawl, away from the blowing snow. Gideon followed closely behind her, his hand grasping her elbow as they made their way to the milk house, where Gideon picked up last night’s milking. As they set off back down the path, which was fast filling with new snow, she looked up, hoping for a break in the heavy clouds that had dumped so much of the white stuff on them in the past weeks. But as it stood, they would have to shovel again tonight to get to the barn.

“I was hoping for some of it to clear, at least enough to allow me to get across the meadow to the trees before Christmas,” she told Gideon, hoping he could hear her voice speaking to him.

Apparently he got the gist of her muttering, for as they stomped their way up onto the porch, he leaned forward enough to answer her. “What do you want to go out across the meadow for, Joy? Is that where you spotted the tree you spoke of earlier?”

She nodded, then opened the door and stood aside, allowing Gideon to carry the milk into the kitchen. She shivered as the heat from inside warmed her suddenly.

After shaking the snow off their coats and hanging them up, they stood in the kitchen grinning foolishly at each other, as if they had surmounted some great task set before them and were celebrating their victory over it. And so they had, Joy decided. They carried the two buckets of milk into the pantry and placed them beneath the shelf, covering the most recent milking with a clean dish towel to keep dust and critters out of it while the cream rose to the top. Then she uncovered last night’s milking and stirred it with a wooden spoon before pouring a good bit of it into the pitcher she kept there for that purpose. It was enough to keep her in milk for baking and drinking for the day. Joy left the rest beneath the shelf and carried the pitcher to the kitchen.

“Would you like some more milk, Joseph?” she asked. “It’s nice and cold from being outdoors, but if you’d rather have it warmed, I can do that for you. In fact, I can put some chocolate in it, and with a spoonful of sugar, you’d have hot cocoa to drink. Would you like that?”

“I’ve never had hot cocoa,” Joseph said eagerly. “Can you show me how you do it?”

“I surely can. Let me put your chair a bit closer to the stove and you can stand up on it and watch me fix it.” It only took her a few seconds to move the chair and prop him up next to her. While she prepared the cocoa, she kept her left arm around his waist lest he fall forward.

“Would you like to share Joseph’s drink, Gideon? I can add another cupful of milk easily enough.”

Joseph turned in her grasp to look over his shoulder at his father and added his plea. “Why don’t you, Daddy. We never had this before, did we? I don’t remember it anyway.”

“No, I suspect we haven’t, son. I’ll be glad to share some with you if Joy doesn’t mind.”

She added the extra milk to the saucepan, along with another scoop of cocoa and some sugar. Joy lifted the saltshaker from the back of the stove and shook it over the pan, as her mother had taught her, the salt enhancing the flavor of the chocolate.

“Would you find some mugs in the dresser, Gideon? The door on the left.”

With a grunt of assent, her guest rose and brought back four thick china cups, which he placed on the table. “I assume you’ll both be joining us,” he said, taking his seat once more.

Grandpa got up from his chair and made his way to the kitchen door. “No, you young folks enjoy your treat while I find my whittling knife and a likely piece of wood to work on,” he said, then walked from the room with the aid of a cane he kept nearby at all times.

Joy lifted Joseph from his perch and set him away from the hot stove before she poured the mugs full, the milk foaming almost to overflowing as she drained the pan. “That ought to do it, gentlemen,” she said with laughter lacing her words. It seemed there was much to be thankful for this morning. Two guests to share the coming days until Christmas and the hope of having a tree this year after all.

“How about a piece of bread and butter to go with your cocoa? I can slice some right quick if you like.”

“Have you the heel handy?” Gideon asked. “Joseph likes the middle of the loaf, but I’ve always been partial to the first slice. My mother used to spread it with butter, right to the edges she always said.” He looked up at Joy with a smile that was strangely tender, as if his thoughts of home and hearth were warming him. “It’s odd how little things stick in your mind, isn’t it, ma’am? I can still see my mother at the stove, standing as you are right now, ready to serve her family.”

She felt the sting of tears as she turned away, her thoughts bittersweet as she recalled her own mother. “Memories are to be cherished, especially the ones that warm us from within,” she said quietly.

“I wish I had a mama to remember,” Joseph said, and Joy sat, reaching across the table to take up his small hand within her own.

“Perhaps one day your father will find a woman fit to be your mother, Joseph. We never know what life has in store for us, and surely a mother isn’t too much for a little boy to hope for.”

Gideon lifted his cup and sipped carefully. “I fear he’ll have to make do with one poor excuse of a father, ma’am,” he said. “I wouldn’t ask any woman to take me on, unless she was looking for a repair-and-restoration project.”

She smiled at him, almost chuckling at the woebegone expression on his face. “Do you think you are such a poor specimen as all that? I see you as a shining example of fatherhood, Gideon. Your son would not be as he is without your influence.”

“My daddy says I’m a good boy,” Joseph said with a speck of pride showing in his shining eyes.

“I’m sure you are. You certainly know how to behave well and that’s about all that can be expected of a child your age,” Joy told him, leaning close to speak to the lad as if he were an equal and would understand her words. She marveled at how she’d misjudged the small boy at first, thinking him to be three or four years old. Gideon had since told her that Joseph was small for his age; he was actually six. That explained his ability to communicate so well, Joy thought.

“Thank you, ma’am,” Joseph said politely, his wide grin showing his delight at her attention.

“Well, I’d better get busy and start something cooking for dinner. These dishes aren’t going to wash themselves and I have dish towels to wash and hang to dry,” Joy said, listing her agenda for the morning.

“I’m a pretty good hand at dishes,” Gideon said, offering his help.

“I’ll take you up on that.” Joy rose and took her cup to the sink, adding it to the pile already awaiting warm water in the dishpan.

As the two adults did the dishes, Joseph watched from his place at the table, not seeming surprised at the sight of his father with his hands in dishwater.

But he totally missed the warm look Gideon bestowed upon the woman who stood beside him, nor would he have understood the message his father sent silently with but a wink of his eye and a subtle twist of his mouth that signified his delight in her.

Chapter Three

The pantry shelves held a multitude of Mason jars, chicken filling some of them, beef and gravy in others, but nothing there seemed to appeal to Joy this morning. She thought of the ham hanging in the smokehouse, the venison hanging on the porch from the latest buck that had stood in her meadow and dared her to take aim in his direction. She’d performed the task ruefully, not looking forward to the chore of dressing out the animal and then dragging it to the yard to wash the meat at the horse trough.

The best part had been the fine hide she’d hung and cleaned, thinking of the slippers and, perhaps, a vest she might make from its soft leather. She’d cooked stew from a hindquarter, sliced slabs from the roasts and spread them out in a flat pan to freeze and even ground up scraps to make venison sausage they had for breakfast when the pork supply ran low. Perhaps a chunk of stew meat would be good for dinner. There were potatoes and carrots left in the cellar, along with several squashes and the pumpkin she planned to cut up and cook for pies for Christmas dinner.

And somehow the thought of Christmas held new visions of cheer as she contemplated cooking for more than just herself and Grandpa. There were several leftover bits of yarn in her knitting basket, surely enough to make a pair of mittens and a cap to match for Joseph. It would be a hodgepodge of colors, but she doubted the boy would mind, so long as the end results kept him warm.

“I think I’ll go out to the porch and cut off a piece of venison for stew,” she said, turning to watch as Gideon wiped the table clean.

“Can I do that for you? It’ll save you getting cold again, and if you’ll tell me how large a piece you need, I’m sure I can handle the job.” His words halted her as she reached for her coat and shawl and she turned to face him, a smile wreathing her face.

“I can see that you’ll come in right handy, sir. I need a piece about the size of that kettle there,” she told him, pointing at her medium saucepan.

“Sounds good to me,” Gideon answered, then reached for his coat and pulled on his hat. Joy found her large butcher knife and handed it to him, then watched as he went out to the porch. It was overcast, with snow still falling, but the light from the kitchen was sufficient to see from the window where he reached for the hanging venison and sliced deftly at it, cutting loose a large piece that would fit readily into her stew pot.

She went to the door to take the meat from him, then sent him back out to the cellar to fetch vegetables for tonight’s dinner. He turned away and held the porch post as he went down the steps and headed for the cellar door next to the porch, careful not to slip and fall on the snow that had already coated the slick wood.

In less than five minutes he reappeared, holding the kettle she’d given him to fill. It almost overflowed with the vegetables she’d asked for, and she opened the door to allow him entrance as he stomped his feet to leave the snow behind on the porch. Again he shook his coat outdoors before he hung it on the hook, and she decided he’d been trained well by some female.

“How far west did you plan to travel, Gideon?” she asked, wondering if his memories were happy ones or if he’d decided to start a new life with his son because of overwhelming sadness in his past. “I know the weather came on quicker than you’d thought it would, with an early winter setting in and putting a stop to your trek.”

“I’d hoped to get closer to the Rockies before winter,” he said. “There’s a lot of land west of here waiting for a man to homestead it.”

“Perhaps you could find a place left behind by folks who have headed back East. There are places like that for sale hereabouts at good prices. Some of them only want the taxes paid.”

“I fear I’m going to have to stay in the area until the snow clears and it’s safe to travel with Joseph. I’d hoped to get farther west in my travels, but if you wouldn’t mind a couple strangers to tend to, we’d surely appreciate staying in the room you mentioned upstairs for the time being. We can pay our own way, for I’ve got a bit of money saved up, plus what I made from the sale of our house.”

His words were welcome ones, though she hadn’t planned on having houseguests. A pair of strong arms to handle the snow shoveling and a willing man to do the chores sounded like manna from heaven this morning.

“I don’t expect you to take me at my word,” Gideon said. “I had my pastor back home write me a letter of introduction and the banker there vouched for me in his note. I didn’t know if I might need some sort of credentials when I found a place to stop. I’ll be glad to show them both to you, Joy, and to whomever you think might be able to verify my word.”

And those papers he spoke of might be faked, she thought cynically, but a long look into the blue eyes that met her own gave her a feeling that they weren’t. He looked like a man of his word. A fellow in search of somewhere to stay until he could find a more permanent place to set down his roots and raise his son.

* * *

Bedtime came at dusk, for Joy had learned to be stingy with the kerosene that fueled the lamps. She curled in the middle of her bed, her thoughts of the man and boy sleeping in the loft enough to warm her. If Gideon took over the chores, she’d have time to spend with his son. Joseph looked to be needing the touch of a woman in his life, and Joy felt a tenderness toward the boy she couldn’t explain.

She awoke at dawn, sliding from the warmth of her quilts to don her dress and wrap a shawl around her shoulders before she made her way to the kitchen. There she found Gideon, busy adding small logs to the fire he’d banked in the stove last evening.

“Good morning,” he said in his low, almost husky voice. “Thought I’d beat you to the punch and have your stove ready to cook on when you got up.”

“I surely appreciate it, Gideon. I’m used to doing everything myself, and though I don’t mean to sound like I’m complaining, I’ll have to admit it will be a pleasure to have some help.”

“I’ll head out to the barn while you fix some breakfast. I heard your grandfather moving around upstairs, so he should be down right shortly. Joseph slept like a log last night and I may have to shake the sheets to get him up when I come in.” As he spoke, he donned his heavy coat, pulled down the knitted hat he wore to cover his ears and the shawl Joy wore outdoors, tucking it around his throat and across his chest beneath his coat.

From the pantry, Joy called out softly, “I’ll have this ready in half an hour or so, and if you’re not in by then, I’ll hold it in the warming oven.”

As Joy prepared breakfast, she looked through the window and caught a glimpse of Gideon shoveling his way to the barn. He moved more quickly this time, tossing fresh snow to either side as he went. The path from last night was still visible, but at least another six inches of snow had fallen.

From upstairs she heard Grandpa’s voice mingling with the youthful tones of Joseph. After a few minutes they made their way down the stairs, the boy holding Grandpa’s arm as if he would keep him erect with his childish strength. Grandpa made a big fuss of him when they arrived in the kitchen, sitting down at the table, Joseph taking the chair next to his.

“This young’un will sure enough come in handy, Joy. He gave me a hand with putting my slippers on and helped me down the stairs.”

Joy smiled, pleased at Grandpa’s welcoming words. Joseph beamed his pleasure as he listened to every syllable passing the old man’s lips. “I like to help when I can,” he said. “My pa says the good Lord expects us to do our best and always lend a helping hand.”

“Your father is a smart man, I’d say,” Joy told him, turning from the stove to smile at him. “He’ll be in shortly for breakfast, probably by the time the biscuits are done.”

“Are we gonna stay here with you?” Joseph asked the old man next to him.

“As long as this weather lasts, I’d say. Your pa will be a big help to Joy. Gettin’ back and forth in the snow is too much for a woman. Joy’s been doing it all along, but if your pa wants to help and ease her load, I’d surely appreciate it.”

The backdoor rattled open and Gideon stepped inside, carrying Joy’s blue-speckled bowl in one hand. He hung his coat and Joy’s shawl on the hook by the door, and then sat to slide from his boots. “Things are looking good out there, Joy,” he said. “I found your pan on top of the chicken coop and gathered the eggs. Fed the chickens first, though, to lure them off their nests. The cow gave me almost a full bucket of milk and I put it in the milk house. Every bit of stock is fed and the barn is warm enough with the heat they put out to keep them all safe and sound.”

“I can’t thank you enough, Gideon,” Joy said sincerely. “Now, get washed up and sit down at the table. I’ll fry up the eggs and we’ll eat.”

* * *

By breakfast time a few days later, the snow was piled up higher than the windows. Finished with his meal, Gideon leaned back in his chair and shot a look at Joy. He was amazed at how quickly they’d settled into a routine, almost like a real family. And now his suggestion would make it feel even more so.

“If you’ve a mind to, we could head out across the meadow after a bit and see to cutting you that tree you’ve got your eye on, ma’am. The wind’s died down some and I think we could make it without any trouble.”

Joy’s heart skipped a beat as she thought of the thrill of decorating the pine she’d marked as her own. “That would be such fun, Gideon. I’d about given up hope of a Christmas tree this year. If you could make that particular dream come true, I’d be most grateful.”

“Can I go, too, Pa?” Joseph wanted to know. His face glowed as he considered the joy of having a real Christmas, tree and all.

“I fear not, Joseph. It’ll be all we can do to make our own way out there, and besides, Grandpa here needs you inside to keep an eye on things while Joy and I are gone.”

“That’s right, sonny.” Grandpa’s words were firm as he backed up Gideon’s stance. “I need somebody to look after me a bit and tote things hither and yon. Maybe you’d like to watch me whittle something to hang on the Christmas tree once your pa drags it into the house.”

“I’d like that, sir,” Joseph said, rising to stand by Grandpa’s chair. “Can I go get your whittling stuff for you?”

He’d apparently watched when Grandpa had wrapped up his knife and the wood he was working with and laid it behind the stove yesterday. Now he waited impatiently for the chance to retrieve it and put Grandpa to work at his task.

Gideon spoke up. “Let’s you and me get going, Joy. I think your grandfather is in good hands, don’t you?”

Joy chuckled as she prepared for the trek across the meadow, bundling up warmly and waiting at the door for Gideon to lead the way.

They made it to the barn quickly, and then Gideon found the bucksaw hanging on the wall. “You ready, ma’am?” he asked with a grin.

“Whenever you are,” Joy said, her heart lifting as she considered the man standing before her. She tilted her face upward and smiled at him. “I’m so glad you’re here, Gideon.”

In a swift movement, he held her shoulders in his hands and bent to her, dropping a quick kiss on her forehead. “So am I,” he said, his voice husky, as if some emotion held him in its grip.

Joy smiled at him again, feeling the residue of warmth he’d left behind on her skin. She felt a blush rise to her cheeks and ducked her head, fussing with her coat buttons as if they needed attention. “Let’s go then,” she said finally, savoring the memory of her first kiss.

Chapter Four

The expedition was a rousing success, for within an hour Gideon had formed a crude tree stand and nailed the small evergreen onto it before carrying it into the house. Joseph clapped his hands with glee as his father carried the tree to the parlor and gave it pride of place before the front window.

Joy and Gideon toted the boxes of decorations from the corner of the parlor where Joy had left them after her foray into the attic in hopes of her dream tree becoming reality. Dishes were forgotten as they gathered in the parlor to place the homemade wooden stars, the gingerbread men and even an angel on the fragrant tree. Joy brought out tinsel left from years gone by and hung it strand by strand on the branches. Gideon found the candleholders and clipped them on the ends of the branches while Joy located the box of candles, most of them with hours of burning left in their slender white lengths.