Hat's Off! (Christmas Holiday Extravaganza)

by Nancy Shew Bolton

  Patrick entered the barn and strode to his father. “Pa, Aaron and I can handle this.”

  Fergus straightened to his full height. “I’ve decided already. And I’m not sending a newly married man out on something that might take days and make his bride stew herself sick while she waits.”

  Patrick scowled and crossed his arms. “What about Ma worrying and stewing?”

  Fergus checked the saddle, and patted Arrow. “Your mother’s a powerful praying woman. She’ll be all right, and so will I.”

  Nobody acquainted with Fergus argued with him once he made up his mind. Might as well try and hold back the ocean as get him to change direction. Aaron exchanged a wry glance with Patrick before he hopped onto Dusty and gave Patrick a tip of his hat before he rode off.

  The wind made talking difficult, so Fergus and Aaron’s horses tromped along, while the two men narrowed their eyes against the gusts and scanned the landscape. Aaron preferred muteness anyway, wind or not. He’d lose himself in stillness and simply exist, answering only to what he needed to take care of, bringing the quiet with him wherever he went.

  Silence wrapped him like a cocoon, and he welcomed it, ever since he was a lonely boy, learning to inhabit corners, become invisible, and survive by going unnoticed. A quiet, agile boy might manage to thrive in a raucous, cruel household, and so he learned to be such a boy. But lately, he experienced the urge to speak up, to fight back, even though he didn’t trust that part of himself.

  The threat of more snow held off, and after an hour, the break in the fence became visible ahead and to their left. Once there, they dismounted and studied the damage from the large downed tree. Fergus swept his gaze around the terrain and then back to the fence. “We’ll get on this first. Then we’ll see if anything got in. Or out.”

  Aaron scanned the fence area. “Hard to tell with all the fresh snow covering any tracks.”

  “We’ll worry about that later. Let’s get this tree chopped up.”

  While he and Fergus cut and wrestled with big chunks of the tree, Aaron’s sweaty forehead turned icy in the wind as his breath huffed out in clouds of steam. The familiar rhythm of physical labor melted the morning hours away as they focused on the task at hand.

  “Wind’s picking up,” Fergus announced and turned his attention to the clouds.

  Aaron dragged the last branch off to the side, straightened, and studied the northern sky. “Might be another blizzard.”

  “Yep. Looks that way.” Fergus pulled a roll of barbed wire from the wagon. “Let’s get this breach mended.”

  Snow fell in hard, icy gusts that scoured their faces like sand. They labored on, neither one willing to stop until the fence was solid again.

  Once they finished, Fergus shouted through the roar of the wind. “We can make it to the cabin.”

  Aaron nodded, and the two loaded the wire and tools and urged the horses in the direction of the layover cabin. At times, the snow came down so thick, Aaron managed to make out only the dim outline of Fergus riding ahead, and the swirls of snow often obscured the sight of Dusty’s head directly in front of him.

  The sharp, icy air made his eyes water, then froze the moisture on his eyelashes, effectively gluing his eyes shut until he took off a glove and melted the ice by pinching it with his bare fingers.

  The short trek to the cabin lasted hours. They lost their direction many times in the blizzard but finally arrived, sheltered their exhausted horses in the attached barn, and built a fire in the cabin’s ample fireplace.

  The wind whipped around the small structure, screaming as though angry with them for escaping its fury. After they ate some cheese and bread, Fergus stretched his legs in front of him, and then chuckled. “Guess we outfoxed that storm.”

  Aaron resisted saying he thought they’d been lucky. Fergus didn’t believe in luck. How easy it must be for someone like Fergus to say there was no such thing as luck when Fergus was the luckiest man Aaron ever knew.

  Aaron grabbed some pails, stepped outside, packed them with snow, and set them near the fireplace to melt for drinking water. His canteen was almost empty. The horses would need water, too, once they cooled down from the long slog through the blizzard.

  Fergus let his gaze travel the small, snug cabin, a wistful smile on his lips. “Built this for Megan before our wedding.”

  He closed his eyes and leaned his head back. “I can still see the big grin on her face while she twirled about this little place. She thought it was beautiful…but nothing I’d ever seen was lovelier than her.”

  A pang twisted through Aaron at the transported expression on his boss’s face. He averted his eyes and fixed his attention on the fire. Might as well get up and add more wood.

  While Fergus dozed in the chair, Aaron pulled out some whittling to work on. He’d promised to make Romayne an assortment of pegs for her kitchen wall. His mind wandered over thoughts of Kay as he carved. Maybe it was foolish to imagine ever sharing his life with a woman. He couldn’t be a cowboy and a good husband, too.

  A wife would expect him to do as Fergus had done and work hard to make a comfortable life for her. Sure, starting out in a small cabin might do for a start, but most women wanted a man to keep improving their circumstances, didn’t they?

  He glanced around the snug cabin. He’d be happy in a place like this and not need more. But would a woman think the same way? Too bad he had no sister. And he couldn’t remember much about Mama. He didn’t know how to talk to women, so he’d probably never find the answers he needed.

  His gaze focused on Fergus. He could ask him about women. Likely a bad idea. Fergus might pepper him with advice and questions, and he hated the thought of that much talking. He admired his boss and appreciated the way Fergus counted on him, but shied away from opening up any personal topics. The less anyone knew about him, the more comfortable he was. And the better for them.

  A sigh escaped him. No woman could be happy with that kind of silent or distant relationship. Not even an independent person like Bessie Daniels. From what he’d heard, she and her husband shared a passionate though turbulent marriage, and she’d been devastated by his loss. Probably the same story with Kay and her husband. Any woman who’d been married before would expect closeness from him. The thought of letting another person into his silence made him uneasy.

  But what about when he got too old to be a cowboy? All he could count on then was a spot in the bunkhouse and odd jobs on the ranch. No wife or family. He didn’t even own a dog. Heaviness settled on his shoulders. He stared at the peg in his hand and his knife in the other. What sort of a life was he carving for himself?

  Chapter Seven

  Kay’s eyes widened when Bessie Daniels traipsed into the store and declared, “Nasty weather just north of here. Guess we’ll get some snow, too.” She clapped her battered hat on the counter and nodded at Philip. “Got any more like this here? I’ve used the heck outta this one. Not much life left in it.”

  Philip eyed the hat. “Let me go in the back and look things over.”

  “Okay, then.” She scanned the shelves loaded with fabrics and notions before her attention traveled to Kay. Bessie’s eyes were a clear light blue, her gaze focused and direct. “Howdy.”

  A rush of friendliness warmed Kay. She’d been fascinated by Bessie, but always from afar. “Hello. I’m Kay.”

  “Course you are. I’m Bessie.” She flashed Kay a grin as genuine and friendly as a child’s.

  Kay smiled. “I know.”

  “So then we know who we are, don’t we?” Bessie chuckled. She sauntered over to Kay. “My, what a fine lot of colors you got here. Must be a real interestin’ job.”

  Kay paused to ponder. It hadn’t occurred to her that anyone would find her work of interest. “I suppose it is.”

  Bessie’s brows lifted. “You ʼspose? Hadn’t you figgered it that way yourself?”

  Kay found Bessie’s straightforward way delightful. “You know, I guess I’m so used to doing this, I don’t think much
about it.”

  “How long you been at it?”

  “Since I was a girl. Sewing, anyway. My brother’s teaching me hat-making, but I’m a slow study.”

  Bessie regarded her, head at a slight tilt. “Slow ʼcause you don’t care much for it, or ʼcause it’s hard to learn?”

  A sensation of connection warmed her further to this woman. Bessie possessed the same curious mind as Kay. How refreshing to speak with someone of a like spirit. She’d grown so accustomed to chit-chat, it took her a moment to go deeper into herself and find a true answer.

  “I think it’s because I’m afraid I’ll make mistakes and the fabric and effort will be wasted.”

  Bessie gave a few slow nods. “You don’t like disappointin’ folks, do you?”

  Kay grinned at the perceptive words. “No, I surely don’t.”

  “Well, don’t disappoint yourself. Always find somethin’ you crave to learn. Leastways, that’s what I tell my kids.” She smiled. “Don’t mean to give you no advice. Just came to my mind to say it, is all.”

  “I’m glad you did. You gave me something to think about.”

  Philip showed up with some hats similar to Bessie’s and she returned to the counter. She tried them on and settled on a dark brown cowboy-style hat with a wide brim. “This’ll sure keep the weather off my head. I’ll take it.”

  Philip nodded. “Want a box for your old hat?”

  “Naw, I’ll carry it along home in my saddlebag. It’ll make a good scarecrow hat, I’m thinkin’.”

  She paid and thanked Philip before she turned to Kay, pointed at the hat, and tipped her head at a jaunty angle. “Whaddya think?”

  A bright smile erupted at Bessie’s obvious pleasure. “Looks good on you. Um…Bessie?”

  “Yes’m?”

  “Would you teach me to ride horseback?” Kay glanced at Phil’s surprised expression, then back to Bessie.

  Bessie grinned. “Why, sure I would. We maybe could start soon if you want, or it might be easier for you to wait ʼtil spring.”

  She was tired of planning things around considerations of ease. Why wait? “We can start anytime you say.”

  Bessie shot her a pleased look. “How ʼbout day after tomorra’ in the afternoon?”

  Kay grinned. “It’s a deal.”

  Bessie strode to the door, and waved. “See ya then.”

  Kay glanced over and met Phil’s quizzical stare. He gave her a sly grin. “What’s going on with you lately, anyway?”

  She returned his grin and answered in an airy voice, “I have no idea.”

  Phil chuckled and shook his head. She sat back at her desk and let herself take in all the colors of thread lined up in her open drawer. There certainly were a lot of fine colors here.

  * * *

  Kay followed behind Bessie and the two horses as they trekked to the empty lot outside town. Bessie’s horse, Silky, was a glossy brown stallion, and the horse for Kay was a smaller gray and white mare named Dandelion. The day was crisp and clear with plenty of sunshine reflecting off the covering of snow.

  Nervous anticipation thrilled along Kay’s nerves and made her overly aware of the unfamiliar feel of the borrowed split skirt brushing against her legs as she walked. Thankfully, she and Maddie were the same height, so the riding skirt was long enough and reached to her ankles.

  Once they arrived at the lot, Bessie illustrated the mount and dismount procedure as she moved in fluid motions on and off the saddle on Silky’s broad back. It didn’t seem too difficult, but fear began to spread through Kay anyway. Dandelion stood in a patient pose while Kay hesitated and swallowed hard.

  Bessie held the horse’s reins and fixed an encouraging smile on her face. “C’mon. You can do it.”

  Kay scanned the surroundings, making sure there were no onlookers, before she returned her focus to the saddle and regarded it with narrowed eyes. It seemed much higher up than she’d ever noticed before. “I’m glad you think so. I’m not so sure about this.” She drew in a deep breath. “What if I fall?”

  “What if you do? It ain’t gonna kill ya. I chose a nice, soft grassy place for practicin’. And what with the snow and all, pitchin’ off the horse won’t hurt too keen.” She squinted at Kay. “Besides, didn’t you plan on maybe fallin’ some?”

  “No.” She gulped and stared at the horse. “Wouldn’t it be easier for me to try bareback? At least it wouldn’t be up quite so high.”

  Bessie let loose a hearty laugh. “I think you’d find bareback a mite harder at this point. Probably slide right off.” She pointed at the stirrup. “Get your foot nice ’n solid in there then grab hold of the saddle horn like I showed ya’.”

  Why did I ask for this?

  A wave of panic made the whole process feel impossible and she imagined herself scurrying away. She could tell Phil and Maddie she decided against it. Maybe she’d plead illness to Bessie. After all, her stomach was churning.

  Bessie’s voice broke through her frantic thoughts. “Now you said you wanted to do this, didn’t ya? Well, let’s get to it.”

  She met Bessie’s resolute expression and took in a deep breath. “Okay. Okay.”

  Kay gathered up her bravery, determined to try. She copied what Bessie already illustrated, planted her foot in the stirrup, grabbed the horn, and heaved herself up onto the horse. Delighted surprise flooded away her tension and a laugh escaped her.

  “I did it!”

  Bessie beamed at her. “You sure enough did.”

  Bessie mounted Silky and the lesson began. Kay’s confidence rose as she proved to be a quick study and didn’t fall once, though she wavered and wobbled until she grew used to the movement of the horse beneath her.

  Bessie was a patient teacher, offering advice in a calm tone. “Don’t grip with your legs and pull forward like that… Sit straight and relax your legs… That’s it, feel the difference?”

  Kay focused on the subtle shifts in her own body and the corresponding motion of the horse. What an interesting kind of a dance. She’d had no idea. After she mastered a brisk walk for a time, Bessie grinned at her. “I think we’ll stop for now. You’re usin’ new muscles. We’ll do another lesson in a couple days.”

  The thought of stopping disappointed her but probably relieved Dandelion, who’d been so calm and responsive to her awkward riding. She patted the horse after dismounting, and was rewarded with a slight nod of Dandelion’s head toward her.

  “She likes you, Kay.” Bessie smiled at her and stroked Dandelion’s mane. “I’d let you ride her back to town, but I figgered you’d be shy about letting folk see you ride until you’re better at it.”

  Appreciation for Bessie’s perception sparked a wide smile. “Thanks, Bessie.”

  They led the horses to the street in front of the shop, and Kay helped load the saddles onto Bessie’s wagon. Both horses stood still and calm while they were hitched up. Kay marveled at their strength coupled with a gentle dignity. What impressive animals. It surprised her to feel honored that they allowed people to ride them. She’d never thought of them that way before.

  Bessie hopped on the wagon and tipped her hat at Kay. “You done good today. See you day after tommorra’.”

  “Thank you so much for my lesson, Bessie.”

  Bessie nodded and drove off. A sigh escaped Kay as she watched them leave, her heart full of friendship for not only Bessie, but the two horses. Time to go inside and get back to work. She took a glance at the distant mountains, thinking perhaps one day, she’d ride to them.

  Maybe I will.

  Chapter Eight

  Aaron stopped at the cabin window and peered at the wall of white swirling outside.

  “What’s eating you? You’ve been pacing all morning.” Fergus straightened up from adding fresh wood to the fire and rubbed his lower back.

  Aaron pulled his attention from the snowfall and plunked onto a chair. “I heard wolves howling before dawn. Close enough that they might have gotten inside the fence before we fixed it. I’m tired
of waiting out this darn storm.”

  “Well, pacing yourself silly won’t stop the snow. How ʼbout we play some checkers or cards? Whatever’s going on out there will still be there when the storm ends.”

  Aaron stood. “I should go check on the horses.”

  Fergus scowled. “Again? They’re not going anywhere.”

  “Well, just the same.”

  Fergus shook his head. “Suit yourself. I’ll have myself a doze in this chair.”

  Aaron pulled on his coat and made his way through the lean-to and into the barn. The sod roof and sides held in the warmth from the horses and muffled the shriek of the wind. A calm oasis. Maybe it would settle him down.

  Lately, the only thing that stemmed the rising tide of nerves and a sensation of doom was hard labor or whiskey. Without either, the ever-present trapped feeling grew until he could hardly contain it. Whiskey was a last resort and ended up helping for only as long as it knocked him out. If he kept doing that, he’d end up some old drunk stuck in jail, laying on a cot and trembling for want of another drink.

  Even if whiskey was legal, it wouldn’t solve his problems. Why had he gotten like this? It shamed him to face the fact of his own weakness, but he couldn’t deny it any more. Dusty nickered at him, and he stroked the horse’s mane. The contact soothed him for a time, and he pressed his forehead against Dusty’s strong neck. Arrow stepped forward and gave him a friendly nudge on his head.

  The gentle affection from the horses unraveled some of his tight control and an unexpected wave of sorrow hit that made him take a hard swallow to halt the threat of tears. He hadn’t cried since he was a boy and didn’t intend to cry now.

  He threw himself into pitching hay and afterwards, decided to brush down the horses, though it wasn’t necessary. He needed to keep moving and stay ahead of the tension inside. If only the blizzard would stop. He welcomed the prospect of long hours of riding the fence, checking the herd and searching for predators. How much longer until he’d be outdoors?