The Gift Of Family: Merry Christmas, Cowboy

She grabbed her apron, tied it about her waist and put a pot on the stove.

Tomorrow she would depart on the stage. She glanced toward the window. If the storm let up. Otherwise—she sucked in air that seemed strangely empty—they would be stranded until such time as the weather improved. No doubt she should be somewhat dismayed at the idea of a delay. But she smiled as she browned bacon, peeled potatoes and cubed them into the pot for thick, nourishing potato soup. She turned to get a can of milk from the shelf. Out of habit, her glance slid to the picture of Ma on the small side table beside the burgundy armchair where she’d so often sat to read or knit.

“Ma,” she whispered. “It’s only a delay.” And only if the storm lasted. “I haven’t forgotten my promise.”

Yet her insides felt as tangled as a sheet left too long on the line. Yes, she’d go to Toronto because she’d promised to do so. Her mother had wanted her to enjoy more opportunities than the frontier provided. More social life, more suitable acquaintances. But she wouldn’t regret a delay in her travel plans. Surely Ma would understand that some things couldn’t be helped—like the weather.

And if her heart welcomed the delay, who was to know and judge?

The soup was about ready and the table set when Becca heard a scream that caused her to drop a handful of spoons.

Clutching her skirts, she dashed for the doorway to the store. “What’s wrong?”

The two children stood before the outer door. Marie held the blanket out to her brother, but he tossed his arms about, refusing her efforts to comfort him.

Pa stood by his chair, looking as startled and confused as Becca.

She glanced about. “Where’s Colt?” Had he walked out on these children? If so, he wasn’t the man she’d judged him to be.

Her question made Little Joe scream louder. She closed her eyes and grimaced. “He’s so loud.”

Pa shook his head. “I can’t hear you.”

At least, that’s what she guessed he said. She moved closer to him and shouted, “Where’s Colt?”

“Said he had to take care of his horse. I told him to put the animal in our barn.”

“He’s coming back, isn’t he?”

Pa nodded. “Don’t think he has much choice. He wouldn’t get far in this weather.” He escaped into the living quarters where the din of Little Joe’s crying would be softer.

There must be a way to calm the boy. Before she could think what to do, the door swung open and shut again. A cold wind blasted through the room, carrying a generous dose of snow.

They all turned to look at Colt as he brushed himself off.

Little Joe let out a wail and ran to him as fast as his little legs allowed. He didn’t slow down when he reached the man, but crashed into his legs.

Colt swung the boy up in his arms. “Young man, you are going to have to learn to stop without using my legs as brakes.”

Little Joe buried his face against Colt’s chest and peeked out from the corners of his eyes.

No mistaking the gleam of victory.

Becca laughed. “You little scamp. You’re just pretending.”

Colt quirked a black eyebrow. “What’s he pretending?”

She fell into Colt’s gaze and had no idea how to answer him.

Colt shifted to consider Little Joe. “What have you been up to, young fella?”

At the grin on Little Joe’s face, Becca laughed and smoothed his hair. “You’re going to do just fine.” So long as he found somewhere he felt safe and loved.

Little Joe wriggled to be put down, and Colt released him. The boy darted from one thing to another in the store, touching gently but never pulling at anything.

Becca remained at Colt’s side, watching. “They seem like fine kids.”

“I think Zeke had been warning them to be good. If they misbehave, people will say it’s because they’re savages.” His voice deepened as he said the word.

“Well, those people would be wrong. They’re simply children learning how to operate in the world.”

Pa appeared in the doorway. “I moved the soup off the heat. Thought it might burn.”

“I forgot.” She dashed to the door, pausing to call over her shoulder, “Supper is ready. Come on in.”

Colt looked like she’d shot him rather than invited him to join them for the meal, but she didn’t have time to ask for an explanation if she meant to save the soup. And provide Colt and the children with a good meal. Plus something more from her heart—welcome and blessing.

Chapter Two

Colt stared after Becca. The idea of going into their private quarters sent a quake up his spine.

“Everything is ready,” Macpherson said. “Who’s hungry?”

“Me hungry.” Little Joe headed after Becca.

Marie hesitated, watching Colt. When she saw he wasn’t moving, she came to his side. “I’m not hungry.”

He knew it couldn’t be true. Except for some cold biscuits, they hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and his stomach growled as if to remind him of how long ago that was. He was at a loss to explain why Marie felt she had to side with him, but seems she did. If he refused the invitation, she would, too.

“I’m kind of hungry,” he said, and took a tentative step toward the door, and then another.

Marie followed hard on his heels.

Macpherson stepped back to usher them into their living quarters. Colt faltered. These were white people. He’d been taught in every way possible that he had no place with them. Sure, he could eat with the cowboys, or the servants, but not at the table with—

“Grab a chair.” Macpherson indicated where they should sit.

Colt swallowed hard and made his stiff legs carry him to the table. He sat gingerly on a chair.

“If you all bow your heads, I’ll say the blessing.” Macpherson waited for them to obey, and even Little Joe did so.

Colt closed his eyes, more to contain a thousand surprised and uneasy feelings than out of any reverence. Though his conscience reminded him of the times he’d sat in the back of a church and listened hungrily to the words of love from the preacher. Words that he guessed did not apply to him.

“Amen.”

Colt jerked up his head and looked directly into Becca’s flash-of-sky eyes.

“I hope everyone likes potato soup.”

He nodded, tried to force a word to his tongue, but couldn’t. In desperation he grabbed the glass of water before him and downed it.

“I like soup.” Marie’s eyes never left the ladle as Becca filled her bowl.

“Me like, too.” Little Joe reached for the bowl.

Becca grabbed his hands to keep him from sticking them into the hot soup as she filled his bowl. She ladled soup into Marie’s bowl, then filled Colt’s.

He murmured his thanks. “Smells good.” And it did.

She filled her pa’s bowl, and then her own before she sat down and checked the temperature of Little Joe’s soup. “Still too hot. Here, start with a slice of bread.”

“Okay.” Little Joe didn’t seem to have any problem with that and ate it heartily, then tackled the soup. He had a little trouble coordinating the spoon, but Becca didn’t appear to notice.

Colt would have been content to eat in silence, but it seemed a practice the Macphersons didn’t hold to.

Becca paused with her spoon halfway to her mouth. “I hope everyone is safe in this storm. I can’t help thinking of Russell Thomas.”

Macpherson spoke directly to Colt. “Old Russell lives out in the mountains all summer, but comes to town about this time of year to hole up in a rough cabin that has cracks so big between the logs, you could throw a cat through ’em. We haven’t seen him in town yet but he knows the country better than most. He can take care of himself.” He addressed the latter reassurance to his daughter.

Little Joe’s eyes widened. “Frow cat?”

Becca laughed. “It’s an expression. No one really throws a cat.”

Both kids looked relieved.

Colt forced his eyes not to shift in Becca’s direction. But he couldn’t stop his thoughts from going that way. When had he ever heard a woman laugh so often, so readily? And when had he ever heard such a joyful sound? Maybe in the woods on a sunny day, when every bird within twenty miles seemed determined to sing the loudest and cheeriest.

“Won’t keep out much of this wind and snow, but it’s better than being without shelter.” She sounded so worried, Colt half decided to go find the old man right then and there and bring him to town, never mind the storm.

Macpherson chuckled. “He knows how to survive better’n most men. He’ll show up here in a day or two asking for more tobacco.”

Little Joe finished his soup and looked longingly at the empty bowl. Becca obligingly gave him more.

Colt cleaned his bowl and ate two thick slices of bread. He refused offers of more, even though his stomach craved it.

Becca gave a low-throated chuckle. “I wonder how Miss Oake likes her first taste of winter here.” She directed a sweet smile toward Colt. “Miss Oake came out to join her brother at the OK Ranch. She was a teacher back east but said she craved a little more excitement. I wonder if this is enough adventure for her.”

Her pa answered. A good thing because Colt could think of nothing but blue skies and cheerful birds.

“I expect she’s enjoying a cozy fire and a good read. She had a heavy case of books with her.”

Little Joe’s head rocked back and forth, and he tipped forward.

“Looks like it’s bedtime,” Colt observed.

“No.” Little Joe jerked up. “I not tired.”

But even Colt could see that he could no longer focus his eyes. “I’ll take them to the barn.”

Becca leapt to her feet. “You’ll do no such thing. Pa?”

Macpherson pushed his chair back. “You and the children can bunk here.” He sounded as if none of them had a choice.

Here? In their living quarters? Surely he didn’t mean that. “Thanks. I’ll throw down my bedroll in the storeroom.”

“Nonsense.” Becca sounded determined. “There’s no heat there. We’ve had people spend the night before. They don’t seem to mind sleeping on the floor.” She waved her hand to indicate the space in the living quarters between the kitchen table and the easy chairs, and gave him a challenging look as if to ask if it didn’t suit him.

“That will be fine,” he mumbled, his tongue thick and uncooperative. His skin would itch with nerves all night at sharing white people’s quarters.

“I’ll put Little Joe down right away.” She chuckled as the little guy’s head bobbed from side to side. But when she lifted him from the chair, he turned into a squirming, screaming ball of fury.

Colt sighed. “Sure does have a powerful set of lungs.” He grabbed the boy as he wriggled from Becca’s grasp.

Marie looked about ready to fall asleep in her chair as well, but with a deep sigh, she climbed down and went to Little Joe’s side. Again, she murmured Indian words to calm her brother, then led him to one of the chairs, climbed up and pulled Little Joe after her. The pair cuddled together.

“He’ll be okay. I will take care of him,” Marie said.

“That’s so sweet,” Becca murmured.

“Yup.” Colt hoped his voice revealed none of his churning feelings. Little Joe would likely never know how his sister buffeted the harshness of life for him. But understanding what lay ahead for both, he wished he could find a home where they would be admired as much as Becca admired them. Just listening to her laugh as she dealt with them caused cracks in the walls he’d built around his heart.

* * *

A shattering cry jerked Becca awake. It took two seconds to remember the source of such a piercing sound. Little Joe. She blinked away sleep and tried to guess the time of day...or was it night? Stumbling from her bed, she danced about on the cold floor.

The stove top rattled. Pa was up. She’d slept the night through.

She hopped to the window, scraped away the frost and peered into the gray light. Snow piled against the glass. The wind battered the side of the building. The snowstorm continued.

Shouldn’t she be disappointed?

But she wasn’t. Instead, she hurried into her clothes and fixed her hair, pausing to study her reflection in the misted mirror. The cold made it impossible to stand still long enough to assess her likeness. Not that she needed a mirror to tell her what she knew already. Skin that stayed porcelain white—a fact that had pleased her mother, but mattered not at all to Becca. Hair that refused to behave itself. She braided it tightly, then dashed from the room and huddled near the stove, stretching out her hands toward the growing heat.

Little Joe’s cries had settled into sobbing misery.

Becca glanced toward Colt and the children. The three of them were bleary eyed.

“You look like you never slept.”

“I tried.” Colt sounded resigned. “But have you ever tried sleeping with two kids kicking you in the ribs all night?”

“Can’t say as I have.” She grinned at him, enjoying the mental picture of him spending the night with the children. It wasn’t the kicking she imagined, but the way Marie leaned against him, as trusting as a kitten with its mother.

“I expect they’re hungry.” She pulled out griddles and sliced bacon to fry. She mixed up batter for griddle cakes, and to complete the meal, she opened a jar of applesauce she’d preserved a few weeks ago.

As Becca pulled out dishes to set the table, Marie jumped from the easy chair she shared with Colt and Little Joe. Her brother scrambled after her. “You stay with Colt,” she told him.

Little Joe hesitated, as if deciding whether or not he wanted to comply, then nodded. “Okay.” He gave Colt an expectant look and Colt stared at him.

“What do you want?”

“Up.”

Colt’s face registered surprise, then he lifted the boy and settled him on his knee.

Becca studied them a moment. He met her gaze, his eyes full of dark depths. She got the feeling Colt found every welcoming, accepting gesture unexpected and wasn’t quite sure how to handle it. She wondered about his parents and what sort of things he’d encountered to make him so wary. Though she’d seen enough of how people acted toward those who weren’t like them to guess at the way he’d been treated. It brought a stab of pain to her heart. She turned away to hide her reaction.

Marie stood at her side. “I will help you.”

She realized Marie meant she would like to set the table.

“How nice. Thank you.” Becca bent over to give the child a quick hug, then handed her the plates. The least she could do was prove to these children that not everyone would treat them poorly.

“Breakfast is ready.” The words were barely out of her mouth before Little Joe flung himself from Colt’s lap and grabbed his hand, tugging at him to hurry.

“Eat. Me hungry.”

Colt laughed. “So I see.”

Becca’s eyes widened. She’d never heard the man laugh before, though he had a shy smile and quiet chuckle that seemed to escape often, and likely without his permission. But his laugh did funny things to her insides—making them smile in secret. She jerked her fanciful thoughts back into order as Pa settled at one end of the table and waited for her to sit so he could say the blessing. Guilt stung her cheeks at the way Pa studied her. She sat and bowed her head.

As Pa asked God to bless the food, she asked Him to guard her thoughts. She knew what she must do—honor her promise to her mother. There was no room for wishing for something else.

The food was well received. After several helpings, Little Joe finally slowed down with a sigh.

“All done.”

Becca shook her head. “I can’t believe you ate all that.”

He nodded, flashed a wide grin and patted his tummy. “Full now.”

Colt snorted. “Better plug your ears.” He addressed Little Joe.

“Why?” Marie asked.

“I know there isn’t room for all that food in a little-boy stomach. It has to go somewhere, so I figure it will start coming out his ears.”

Little Joe clamped his hands over his ears and scrunched his face in deep concentration.

Becca laughed. “He’s joshing you.” She sent Colt a scolding look and almost choked as he laughed—his mouth open, his eyes flashing.

He reached over and tapped Little Joe on the shoulder, gaining his attention. “It won’t really come out your ears.”

Little Joe slowly removed his hands, checked his palms. “No food.”

Colt chuckled. “It’s all in your tummy.”

Little Joe looked relieved.

Pa cleared his throat and reached for the Bible he kept on a shelf near the table.

“If everyone is done, we always read a chapter every morning. As my father often said, it’s a good way to start the day.”

Becca settled back to listen. She would miss Pa’s morning reading when she left. Yes, she read her own copy of the Bible, but hearing Pa’s slow, strong voice was part and parcel of her faith.

He read a chapter from Matthew, then closed the Bible. “We always pray for the day ahead of us.”

As Becca bowed her head, she allowed herself a glance at Colt. He watched Pa with an expression combining surprise and what she could only guess was admiration.

“God in heaven, bless us this day. Protect any travelers in the storm. Please see fit to bring an end to this storm so Becca can begin her journey. Take Colt and the children on whatever journey You have for them. Amen.”

Pa drained his cup of coffee and suddenly tipped his head to one side. “Listen to that. The wind has stopped blowing. I do believe the storm has ended.”

For the first time in her life, Becca resented the sun that broke through the clouds and turned the frost on the window to a thousand sparkling diamonds.

Pa rubbed his hands together and looked pleased as he went to the store, hoping for customers.

Colt pushed away from the table to follow her pa from the room. Little Joe scrambled from his chair and raced after him. “Me go, too. Me go with you.”

Marie followed her brother, her eyes echoing his words.

Colt turned slowly to contemplate the children, then faced Becca. “I have to go.”

“Go? As in leave?”

He shifted his weight from foot to foot, as if anxious to be on his way.

“Don’t go,” Marie begged, clinging to his hand.

Little Joe puckered up, ready to set his ear-splitting cry on them again.

Colt swept the boy into his arms. “Don’t cry. Please.”

“You not go?”

The poor man looked torn between a desire to flee and the demands of two little children.

“They’ve lost so much already,” she murmured. “You could at least stay until the stage comes.”

His expression could have been set in stone for all he revealed. Then he nodded. “Very well. I’ll see them safely on their way first.”

“You stay?” Little Joe demanded.

Colt nodded, and Little Joe patted his cheeks lovingly. “You good boy.”

Laughter filled her throat at the child’s innocent approval, and she knew her eyes brimmed with amusement.

Colt looked her way, saw her barely contained laughter and grinned crookedly.

“Must be nice to be appreciated,” she managed, though her words seemed a little garbled by the welling laughter.

“Guess there’s a first time for everything.” Suddenly he turned away and strode into the store, Little Joe clutched in his arms.

“Anything I can do to help?” she heard him ask Pa before the door closed between them.

If she didn’t miss her guess, he sounded desperate.

“I’ll help with dishes,” Marie offered, pulling Becca’s attention from the activity in the store.

But it did not stop her from trying to guess what sent Colt skittering away so fast.

* * *

First time for everything.

As if he felt neglected because only a two-year-old child saw fit to show appreciation. A self-pitying statement if he’d ever heard one. Dare he hope she’d think he was only joshing? But he feared he’d seen a flicker of something in her eyes before he ducked from the room. Whether it was pity or something else, he would not consider.

The storm was over. He should be on his way, but the kids would soon be off to the fort with Becca where they’d be treated kindly...as kindly as mixed-race children could expect, and he knew from experience it was hit or miss—mostly hit of the physical sort, as it turned out.

The outer door blew open and a weathered, bewhiskered man entered the store.

“Seems we survived the first big blow of the season.”

“How do, Petey. You planning to head out soon?” Macpherson glanced out the window. “Don’t see the stagecoach.”

Colt watched the pair. So this was the driver. Seemed his promise to stay until the kids were on their way would be short-lived.

Petey strode to the stove and held his hands toward the heat. “Came to tell you I ain’t going ’til after Christmas.”

Macpherson straightened and stared at the man. “You don’t say.” He didn’t sound pleased by the announcement.

“Rufus invited me to stay with him.”

“At the livery station?”

“Rufus and me go back a long ways. ’Bout the closest thing we have to family. Figure we should spend Christmas together.”

“Of course.” Macpherson strode to the window and peered out.

Colt didn’t move. Tried to become invisible, but Little Joe squirmed and chattered, drawing Macpherson’s attention and a glower.

Petey glanced at the little boy then at Colt. “You taking that kid out in this weather?”

Macpherson answered. “They’re going to the fort on the stage.”

“Then it looks like you’ll have visitors for Christmas.”

Macpherson did not look pleased at the prospect, but moved to tend to Petey’s order.

A few minutes later the man left with a bundle of goods that Colt figured would be used to celebrate the season.

Colt and Macpherson stared at each other, then Macpherson headed to the living quarters. Colt hung back, Little Joe playing in his arms. Christmas was a family time. Even Petey knew that. Colt wasn’t family. He’d buy a few supplies and be on his way.

Macpherson paused in the doorway. “You better come along.”

Colt knew what to expect. He’d be leaving within the hour.

“Don’t suppose you heard Old Petey out there.” Macpherson sounded weary as he spoke to Becca.

Becca had been supervising Marie washing the table. Her smile faded. “He’s here already? I thought—”

“He’s spending Christmas with Rufus at the livery barn. I can’t imagine why he’d choose to stay cooped up in the tiny room at the back of the barn when he could enjoy Christmas at the fort.”

Becca clapped her hands. “That’s the best news I’ve heard in a long time.”

Colt stared in disbelief and confusion.

Macpherson grunted. “Why is that?”

“I can spend Christmas here with you.” She spoke directly to her pa, then shifted her gaze to the two children who had gone to the corner to play. “And I can give them the best Christmas ever.”

Her words hit Colt like a blow to the stomach. It meant he’d have to say goodbye to them right away, but he acknowledged it would be best for them. Only it would be lonely for him.

He was being plumb ridiculous. He’d been alone most of his life, even when he found shelter with a family.

“You are most generous,” he murmured, letting his gaze rest momentarily on her face, taking in her sunny smile and sky-colored eyes. He would never forget her. Recalling her features would warm many cold, lonely nights. He jerked away to confront Macpherson.

“I’ll get those supplies now and be on my way.” He headed for the door, expecting Macpherson to follow.

But before her pa could take a step, Becca sprang forward and grabbed Colt’s arm.

“You can’t mean you intend to leave.” She kept her words low so the children wouldn’t hear, but nevertheless, they rang with accusation. “They’ll be so upset, they won’t be able to enjoy Christmas. You must stay and help me make it special for them.” She pleaded silently, her eyes soft, then her face filled with determination. “Didn’t you promise them—and me—you would stay until they were on the stage?” When he didn’t answer, she turned to her pa. “Tell him to stay. Tell him we need him to make this work. Tell him—” She ran out of steam.