Hat's Off! (Christmas Holiday Extravaganza)

by Nancy Shew Bolton

  She hurried to finish and return to the warm, lively room, wanting to miss as little as possible of the broadcast. While still in the kitchen, washing her hands, the strains of “Let Me Call You Sweetheart” began. Vivid memories of Elliot singing it to her and dancing with her in their living room almost made Kay’s knees buckle. Desperate, overwhelming sobs threatened to burst from her, and she ran out the kitchen door.

  As she stared up at the clear night sky, hot tears coursed down, chilling quickly when the wind streamed across her cheeks. Leaning against the side of the house, she covered her face and let the sobs come.

  Elliot, Elliot, I miss you. Why did you leave me?

  The horrible pain began to ease as her sobs slowed down. Footsteps crunched along the path and a gentle voice asked, “Are you all right?”

  “No,” she croaked out, blinking her eyes at the blurry sight of Aaron standing beside her. Without thinking, she turned and burrowed against his chest, frantic for comfort, relaxing into his solid warmth.

  When his arms circled her, she raised a blind face upward and urged, “Kiss me.”

  A second passed, and then two, before his lips brushed her cheek. She reached up and pulled his face to hers, pressing her mouth to his, desperate for his response. And it broke over her like a flood. His arms tightened around her and he took her lips with a recklessness matching hers.

  The kiss went on, and she gave herself to the bliss and passion of it. More. She wanted more. She twined fingers in his hair, knocking his hat off, and explored his face and shoulders with her hands. Fitting herself against him, she relaxed into him while his hands pulled her even closer. Their breath issued in gasps between fervent kisses, and delirium took over her until the sound of an outside door closing somewhere and a dog barking made Aaron startle and pull backward.

  “Oh, God,” he breathed out and stood panting before he reached down to retrieve his hat.

  “I’m sorry,” she blurted and rushed into the kitchen, leaning back against the closed door, her eyes squeezed shut and breath rasping.

  What did I do?

  Chapter Ten

  Aaron couldn’t sleep, though exhaustion lay heavy on his limbs. Might as well get up. He rose from his bed, grabbed his coat, and left the bunkhouse, trying not to make noise and ruin the other men’s rest. He paced around the corral gate like a caged beast. This must be what an animal caught in a trap endured. No wonder they sometimes gnawed off their own foot to get loose.

  His life was coming apart. His control—something he’d always prided himself on—grew thinner and more ragged as each day ended. He’d punched that ignorant politician, fought with Fergus, and now…Kay.

  What did I do?

  Dumb question. He kissed her, went at her like an animal. Sure, she’d asked him to kiss her, and he’d longed to do it, but he never should’ve let loose that way. She must think he was some sort of brute, one of those men who forced themselves on women. No wonder she ran inside the house as soon as he let her go. Her face had looked terrified.

  Did he have a side to himself he didn’t know and it was now coming out? Would he end up like his father, at odds with everyone, seeing only enemies, until he was hung for murdering someone in a rage?

  God, please, no.

  Maybe that was it. He was secretly a copy of his father, a despicable, cruel person, delighting in…killing. An image of the German he’d shot flashed in his mind. The limp, bullet-riddled body slumping down, that horrible, desperate gurgling sound as the man died. He stopped and gripped the rail of the fence, the harsh wood scraping his callouses.

  Like father, like son. He’d always hated that saying.

  I can’t be like him, I can’t. I won’t.

  I am.

  His head bowed, bitterness welled up, almost choking off his breath. There were good men like Fergus and his boys, men who stayed upright despite tests, men who had integrity. And unlike them, there existed a different kind of men. Ones akin to his father—and him—who gave into impulse and acted without dignity or honor. And excused themselves, always blaming someone else.

  Anger bloomed up. Rage at his father, at himself, at war, and fear, and trouble. He struck the top rail of the fence over and over, splinters jamming into his fists as he gloried in the pain they caused him. The rail became his father, then the German, then himself. His hands bloodied, while sobs ripped out of him, he kept striking until someone pulled him from the fence.

  “Stop it, boy, do you hear me?” Fergus held him by the shoulders and gave him a shake.

  Aaron crumpled and Fergus grabbed him, pulling him upright and into a tight embrace. Aaron cried like a small boy, heartbroken, while helpless spasms of despair released from him in waves. Fergus held him through it all, steady and firm as an oak, and for the first time in Aaron’s memory, another human being received his pain and gave him comfort in return.

  When Fergus patted his back and murmured, “All right, my boy, you’re all right,” Aaron realized Fergus loved him like one of his own sons. And the knowledge healed something deep inside him, a place he’d closed up tight for as far back as he could recall.

  The exhaustion left him, the heavy weight, and if not for his throbbing hands, he’d have felt light. Cheerful, even. As though he’d had a few blasts of whiskey. But better than that.

  Fergus patted him again and stepped back. “Let’s go see to your hands, now.”

  Aaron followed him to the house, moving as if in a dream or a daze, a smile on his face that must’ve looked foolish. But he didn’t care.

  * * *

  Kay sat at her bedroom window, dissecting her emotions as the night hours passed. She’d never done anything as brazen as the way she’d thrown herself at Aaron. Mother always said nice women didn’t do that. They waited for the man to initiate contact. A man wouldn’t respect a woman who did what she did.

  But those looks he gave her tonight…wasn’t that a kind of invitation for more contact? Did she misread him because she wanted it to be so? And how wrong could it be to ask for a kiss?

  She remembered that Elliot liked her to reach for his hand or surprise him with a caress. But she’d never grabbed him and demanded a kiss. Was there something about Aaron that brought out odd reactions in her? She’d slapped him that time, and been surprised by the action, but tonight, she’d gone way past surprising herself to being appalled instead.

  She not only ordered him to kiss her but responded to him with such fervor it made her blush to remember it. And now, the tiniest thought of him let loose a rush of yearning that weakened her limbs. The tentative attraction she’d held for him before was like a candle’s flame, a scant shadow to the bonfire that resided in her now whenever he came to mind. She closed her eyes and searched herself.

  Was she becoming a kind of flapper? She’d wanted to change, be more independent like Bessie, but she didn’t want to be some sort of wild woman. She’d read stories about flappers in magazine articles back home, and thought the women were pretty silly. There wasn’t much of a future in behavior that was aimed simply for the sake of shocking everyone. No, that wasn’t what she wanted.

  I just want to be stronger, that’s all. More sure of myself.

  Remembering how she’d yanked Aaron into that kiss made her cover her mouth and giggle. She certainly acted sure of herself then. And the way he kissed her back… She breathed out a long sigh and let herself remember every mesmerizing detail.

  But did he like her as much as she liked him, or was it only a man’s response to a woman wanting him? Some of her friends said that men always took their cues from women, and if they thought the woman wanted them, they’d respond to almost any female. Her spirit sank. He hadn’t shown a lot of interest until tonight, so maybe they were right.

  She rose and clasped her hands behind her, pacing the circuit of her room. Cold air swirled on her bare feet and traveled up her nightgown, causing a shiver. She reached for the shawl draped on her chair, hugging it around herself as she continued her trek
from bed to window and back, her thoughts whirling inside.

  Maybe being such a solitary person meant that Aaron would respond to any female attention the way he had to hers. Could that be true? She pictured him kissing other single women she knew, and the horrid surge of jealousy startled her.

  Then she imagined what Elliot might think of her actions. Would he be surprised or shocked? Find her behavior disappointing, or be happy for her newfound bravery?

  The part of him she carried inside, the sense of him that was always with her, seemed to speak encouragement to her. She sat back down in her rocking chair, letting the awareness of him seep through her, bearing the sadness but welcoming the comfort that also came with thoughts of him and their history together.

  She rocked for a time, trying to understand her present dilemma. This attraction to Aaron—it was so different from what she’d felt with her husband. She’d never doubted Elliot’s interest in her, and during their courtship, their mutual feelings grew and multiplied into a steadfast, powerful love that delighted them both. She’d experienced no real conflicts or low times with him, only the horrid well of despair when he died.

  She’d hadn’t ever wanted to slap him, had never grabbed at him or been demanding. Such a sweet, gentle love they’d shared, like a peaceful ocean bearing her up and sailing her along. They couldn’t stay mad at each other, and their few disagreements often ended in chuckles followed by kisses.

  Perhaps she was foolish to want another relationship since she’d likely never find one as good as what she’d enjoyed already. Mother always said Elliot was someone you could count on. And he had been. Except that she’d counted on raising a family and growing old with him. A dream that would never be, and one she needed to leave behind now. She stopped rocking and lay her head against the chair back.

  Her interest in Aaron puzzled her and was already weighted with doubt and conflict. Qualities she perceived within Aaron himself. Did she really want to take on a relationship that might be full of trouble? Was the obvious attraction worth the risk? Perhaps she needed God’s assistance with this one. He’d gotten her through the depths of despair, after all. Maybe He would help her decide what to do.

  Chapter Eleven

  Kay burst through the shop’s front door. “Bessie taught me to gallop. Why didn’t you ever tell me how much fun it was, Phil?”

  Phil set down his coffee cup and shrugged. “It never occurred to me, I guess. You didn’t ride.”

  She hung her coat, turned to face him, and put her hands on her hips. “Well, you should have offered to teach me.”

  “We didn’t have horses most of the time.”

  “Grandfather did. When we were there in the summers, you could have taught me.”

  “If you’d asked, I would have.”

  “Why would I ask when I didn’t know how much fun it was?”

  Phil rested his elbows on the counter and shook his head at her. “This is a ridiculous conversation, Kay.”

  She scowled at him before they both shared a laugh. She relaxed her arms. “I guess you’re right. Anyway, I know how to now. I can’t wait to do it again.”

  “Best to wait a day or so, make sure you’re not sore.”

  “I don’t get sore from riding anymore. Bessie’s coming by tomorrow, and we’re going on a short trip to the mountains.”

  Phil squinted at the view outside the window. “Might snow by then.”

  Kay sauntered to her work desk. “Who cares? Horses don’t mind snow.”

  “Makes it hard to see the trail. Plenty of rocks can end up rolling into the horse’s paths, you know. I don’t like the thought of you falling off.”

  She gave him a bright smile. “I don’t either. I’ll be careful. I promise I won’t gallop on the trails.”

  The exhilaration of galloping brought almost the same elation as Aaron’s kiss. Who knew life could be so full of such heights of bliss? But maybe she’d never have another kiss like that. In the days since it happened, she hadn’t seen him around town at all. He usually accompanied Fergus on the wagon, but not this week.

  Every day, she longed for him to come in the door so she could read his eyes and learn his disposition toward her. Didn’t he want to see her? Maybe the whole thing hadn’t meant as much to him, or perhaps he was embarrassed that he’d responded to her forward behavior. But what if he was as attracted to her as she was to him? Either way, she ached to know his stance.

  She imagined galloping out to the ranch and finding out. At least then, she could stop fretting and stewing over it.

  No.

  She’d just need to force herself to wait. Frustration simmered inside, but she picked up her latest sewing project and forced her attention to it.

  Aaron, for goodness’ sake, show up.

  She sighed, wishing she was back on the horse with endless land in front of her. Nothing to halt the horse’s glorious speed. Something inside her became unleashed during that first gallop, and now, she longed for more of it. She stared down at the sewing, then closed her eyes and relived the ride and Aaron’s hypnotic kisses.

  * * *

  The last splinters finally worked their way far enough through the sides of Aaron’s fists so they were able to be pulled out. His repeated blows drove them in so deep, it surprised him and Fergus that none of them grew infected. Once the rest of the wounds scabbed over, he could ride again. Almost a week out of the saddle made him realize how much he loved his cowboy duties.

  He studied his hands and flexed them. Not too painful now. He stood and stared out the bunkhouse window. Light snow fell, and chickadees popped by to grab the seeds he’d scattered on the sill outside. The little birds always sparked his smile with their quick movements, tiny round bodies, and bright black eyes. He’d spent a lot of time in the last few days watching their antics.

  This past week afforded much opportunity for thought. Fergus invited him to join in his daily Bible study and prayer time. Whenever Fergus prayed aloud, it astonished Aaron. He spoke to God as though He were close friends with Him. When Aaron told him he always figured only old-time prophets or really special people ever shared a relationship with God, Fergus asked him, “Don’t you know that’s what Jesus died for? So any person can draw close to God?”

  That statement alone energized him and kept him awake at night. Anyone?

  Me?

  A different way of life, of thinking, opened in front of him, yet he couldn’t bring himself to step toward it yet. Fergus said a person should count the cost of making such a change, and not look back once the decision was made. Caution was sensible. It had been his constant companion since he ran away from home, and it protected him often from his father’s wrath even before he left. Most of the time, anyway.

  Yet part of him longed to stop being cautious. To run toward a new life. But the past still held him, and so he stood in a state of indecision. What if he decided to get baptized, become a Christian, but couldn’t live up to it? Then he’d be in an even worse condition, wouldn’t he? Maybe a person had to be like Fergus in order to be a Christian. There were so many questions swirling inside.

  Thoughts of Kay kept him awake, too. She stayed stuck in his mind and in his heart. But he’d done wrong by her and frightened her. There must be an easy way to apologize to her for his forceful behavior, but the thought of seeing her and speaking about it made his guts twist.

  A letter might be a good idea. He’d get too tongue-tied if he tried to explain himself to her in person. He wouldn’t have any peace until he apologized somehow, made things right between them. So, letter-writing it would be. Even though it hurt to use his hand, he’d get it done. But what should he say? He closed his eyes and pondered.

  Dear Katherine,

  Was ‘dear’ too familiar? Maybe.

  To Katherine MacPherson,

  Sounded like one of those legal letters they published in the paper sometimes. But at least it didn’t sound as if he was taking liberties with her.

  Again.

&
nbsp; He shook his head.

  To Katherine MacPherson,

  I want to apologize to you for—

  He scowled. For what exactly?

  For…taking advantage of your request…

  Truth be told, she was the one who turned it from a quick kiss on the cheek into…

  His eyes popped open while he stared and relived the encounter in detail. He rubbed his forehead. Best not to mention that confusing string of kisses.

  I want to apologize for frightening you the other night. I meant only to comfort you as I could tell you were upset. I hope you can forgive me.

  He pulled in a breath and nodded. That sounded good. Time to write it down and get the apology over with. Wonder what her reply will be? At least after that, he’d know more about her attitude concerning him. Nervous tension gripped him. Might as well do it now.

  * * *

  “Kay, here’s a letter for you.” Phil held it up and gave her a teasing grin. “It’s from Aaron.”

  Immediate heat flooded her cheeks and Phil hooted before he burst into laughter. “Boy, is your face red.”

  She stomped to him and snatched the letter. “Leave off teasing me, Phil. It’s nothing. I’m just surprised.”

  “Oh, sure. Surprised people always blush like that.”

  She glared at him, flounced back to her chair, and deposited the envelope in her desk.

  “Aren’t you going to read it?”

  She made her voice sound casual though her nerves were humming. “When I want to. It’s probably just a reminder that Romayne asked if we were all coming again for Thanksgiving this year.”

  “Well, then wouldn’t she have written it? Or have Fergus ask us next time he’s in town?”

  “How do I know? Now leave me alone and let me get my work done.”

  Phil chuckled on and off for minutes while she made herself draw in some slow breaths. It would be a long while until she’d manage to go to her room and read it, so she’d best calm down.