by Lisa Kleypas
“It didn’t seem so far,” Brother Samuel said. “The morning is brisk, the sun heartening.”
“I’ve been expecting to see you in town,” Sister Rachel said. “You know my brother can’t think of you out here alone without becoming distressed.” Brother Samuel helped his sister mount the porch steps. She walked around Samson to take the chair Mary offered her. Brother Samuel chose to stand.
“I know I look as big as a cow, but I’ve got another month,” Mary told her. “Besides, if all goes well, I mean to have the baby here.”
“Surely you don’t mean to have it by yourself.”
“Oh, no. I’ll hire someone to stay with me.”
“I’d feel so much better if you would move to town now,” Brother Samuel said. “I’m most concerned about you.”
“I can’t afford the cost of putting Sarah and myself up in a hotel for a month.”
“I’m sure the ladies of Pine Flat would be glad to offer you and Sarah places to stay.”
Joe wondered why neither brother nor sister offered to take Sarah and Mary into their own home.
“I couldn’t be separated from Sarah,” Mary replied, “not after her losing both her mother and her father. Neither could I settle myself on anyone. I won’t have a friend in the world if I start doing that.”
“You’ll have a friend in us no matter what you do.”
“We’d offer to keep you with us,” Sister Rachel said, “but we’re away from home nearly all the time.”
“Nonetheless, you can stay with us if it will convince you to come to town.”
Joe noticed that Sister Rachel didn’t look quite so enthusiastic as her brother. He guessed Brother Samuel was in the habit of offering haven to people and leaving Sister Rachel to do all the work.
“I didn’t know you had hired a man to work for you,” Brother Samuel said, eying Joe.
“Oh, he’s not a hired hand. He’s Pete’s old partner.…”
Mary’s lips formed Joe’s name, but she didn’t say it.
Brother Samuel didn’t come down the steps to shake hands with Joe. The inclination of his head was the only acknowledgment he made of their introduction.
“Pete’s been dead six months. What’s he doing here now?” Sister Rachel asked.
“He’s here to…” Mary’s voice trailed off.
“…to settle a partnership,” Joe said, leaving his work and coming around the corner.
“Then why are you fixing the chimney?” Sister Rachel demanded.
“It needed fixing.”
“It’s not suitable!”
“I’m not a stone mason, but I think it’ll hold up for a while.”
“My sister means it’s not suitable for you to be staying with a single woman without proper chaperonage.”
“I should think her belly and the kid are chaperons enough.”
Joe’s answer was mild enough, but he felt anger boiling up inside him. Who the hell was this man to come in here and stick his nose in their business? Joe had read the Bible, and he didn’t remember anything giving preachers permission to interfere in other people’s affairs. Sister Rachel’s shocked response to his answer amused him. The old biddie would probably fall down dead if a man so much as kissed her.
“In that case, I don’t imagine you’ll be staying long,” Brother Samuel said. He didn’t appear to be quite as shocked as his sister. He seemed angry. Joe suddenly wondered if the Reverend Brother had designs on Mary for himself. She was certainly pretty enough to tempt a man, even a cold fish like the Reverend Brother.
“I probably won’t be here longer than a couple more days,” Joe said. “Mary was a little run-down when I arrived. I’d like to be sure she’s back on her feet before I leave.”
“Why didn’t you tell us you were unwell?” Sister Rachel asked. “I’d have come right away. In fact, I’ll stay with you now. Samuel will just have to do without me for a few days.”
“That’s not necessary,” Mary hastened to assure them. “I’m feeling much like my old self. I know your brother depends quite heavily on you, especially during the Christmas season. No, I’m fine now.”
“If you’re sure.”
Joe would have sworn Sister Rachel was disappointed. Maybe she would have appreciated some relief from the heavy duties of the season.
“Will you be stopping by town when you leave?” Brother Samuel inquired of Joe.
“Probably,” Joe replied. “I imagine I’ll need to pick up a few things.”
“We have other calls to make, so we’d better be on our way,” Brother Samuel said to Mary as he helped his sister down the steps. “I’ll be looking for you in town in a day or two,” he said to Joe. “I know you wouldn’t do anything that might damage Mrs. Wilson’s reputation, but you can’t be too careful. People will talk.”
“They’d better not within my hearing,” Joe answered.
Brother Samuel looked as though he hadn’t expected that answer. His smile was uncertain.
“We’ll be expecting you and Sarah in town to stay right after the New Year,” Sister Rachel said to Mary. “If not, I’m coming to stay until after the baby arrives.”
“I’ll let you know,” Mary said. She got to her feet, but didn’t go down the steps.
Joe went back to his work. But he kept watch until Brother Samuel and Sister Rachel had disappeared over the ridge. “I wonder where Sister Rachel left her broomstick?” he said to no one in particular. “Bound to be faster than that old buggy.”
Mary laughed, then tried to pretend she hadn’t.
Mary eased down on the bed and leaned against the mound of pillows. She had to do some serious thinking. She couldn’t have Brother Samuel thinking she would become his wife. He had never asked her, but she couldn’t fail to notice the look in his eye.
She had been given no opportunity to dispel his illusions, but she would never marry him. She felt lucky to have survived her marriage to Pete, and she had no intention of putting herself in that trap again. She wanted a quiet, stable life, not one manipulated by a man.
Yet she didn’t want Joe to leave. She had felt her heart lurch when he said he’d see Brother Samuel in town in a couple of days. Already she had come to depend on him, to look forward to his company.
It was impossible not to compare the two men. Brother Samuel was an ardent man, even a passionate one, but his passion had nothing to do with the flesh. Being around Joe had made Mary very aware of her physical nature. It was impossible to look at him and not feel the magnetism of his presence. He was simply the kind of man who made a woman achingly aware of her femininity. Even pregnant, he made her feel desirable.
Mary decided that was a dangerous situation. It would undoubtedly be safer if Joe did meet Brother Samuel in town and then continued on to California. But she knew her life would be very empty if he left.
Her mother had warned her she wouldn’t always be able to find love where she wanted it. Was she looking for it with Joe?
Joe was jealous. There was no point in denying it. From the moment that man drove into the yard, he had felt it gnawing at his insides. He hadn’t recognized it at first, but he did now.
He was jealous of the Reverend Brother Samuel Hawkins.
He looked around. There was nothing that could remotely be considered a Christmas tree. Sarah rode behind him, the little pinto struggling to keep up with his big gelding. Samson loped ahead on the lookout for coyotes. The low hills were covered with a scattering of vegetation—mesquite, catclaw, and ironwood all looking much alike; ocotillo and prickly pear cactus; spiky agave with their tall blooming stalks; assorted grasses and bushes.
But no pines or junipers.
They would have to go higher if they were to find a Christmas tree.
Could he be falling in love? He couldn’t allow that to happen. But wasn’t that what being jealous meant? He’d only loved two women, and both of them had sent him away. Mary had tried—even held a gun on him. He didn’t know if she had changed her mind, but he knew he wasn’t the k
ind of man she wanted or the kind who would be good for her. She’d send him away in the end.
“What do you think of that tree?” he asked Sarah. It was a pitiful excuse for a tree, but it was a pine.
She shook her head.
“Look, if I’m going to traipse all over this mountain looking for a tree, you’re going to have to talk to me.”
The kid watched him out of silent eyes.
“You ought to know by now I won’t hurt you. Even Samson likes you.”
She still didn’t speak.
“Okay, let’s go back.”
Before he could turn General Burnside around, she said, “It’s not pretty,” just as if she’d been talking all along. “Let’s go higher.”
As they wound their way up the mountainside, Joe decided that women got the hang of being female at an early age. Boys didn’t figure out what it meant to be a man until much later. By the time they started courting, the girls had a ten-year head start. It was like shooting fish in a pond.
He headed General Burnside up a slope toward a patch of green about a mile away. Samson disappeared down a canyon.
He was letting himself get distracted. A dangerous thing. It was time he went back to looking for the gold and got out of here. He was getting too settled. He was starting to like where he was.
He’d forgotten what being on a farm was like. For years he’d thought only of his mother and the man she threw him out for. But being here reminded him of the things he had liked about the farm. It seemed strange to him now, but he liked the way he was living. He didn’t even mind the chores. He was beginning to get ideas about how to improve things, ideas about what Mary ought to do come spring. He’d enjoyed teaching Sarah how to milk Queen Charlotte. Hell, he’d sworn he’d never milk another cow after he left the farm. But there was something solid and comfortable about their big brown bodies. And it sure as hell was nice to have butter to put on his biscuits.
“Do you like that man?” Sarah asked.
“What man?”
“The one who came to the house this morning.”
“No reason to dislike him.”
“I don’t like him. He makes Mary sad.”
“How’s that?”
“She gets all jumpy whenever he comes. She mumbles a lot after he’s gone. I think she’s afraid of that woman.”
“I think your ma is just afraid they’ll try to take too much care of her.”
“Mary doesn’t need anybody to take care of her. She has me.”
Joe thought it was a nice thing for a little girl to say, but Sarah had no idea just how much a woman needed someone to take care of her. He didn’t see how Mary was going to make out by herself.
“Do you always call your ma Mary?”
“Mary says she loves me like a mama, but she knows I have a real mama who’s gone to Heaven and is waiting for me there.”
That would teach him to stick his nose in where it didn’t belong.
“I bet she’d like it though. She won’t think you’re forgetting your real ma, but women like to be called Ma. It’s just not the same when you call her Mary.”
“If you were married to her, would you want me to call you Pa?”
That nearly knocked him out of his saddle. No messing around. The kid had cut to the heart of the matter.
Joe wanted to marry Mary. He had fallen in love with her when she fainted pointing a rifle at him. He’d just been dancing around the issue since then, trying to fool himself and everybody else.
“Yes. If I were married to Mary, I’d want you to call me Pa. I’d like having a little girl like you. I know Pete’s your real pa, but I’d want you to call me Pa because that’s how I’d feel about you.”
Joe realized that he’d stayed away from women because he didn’t believe in love. He’d never felt it. His mother and Flora talked about it all the time, but he didn’t want any part of the destructive emotion they felt.
Mary and Sarah loved each other in an entirely different way. Wasn’t it possible they could love him as well?
Don’t be a fool. You’re on the run. You can’t stay here or anywhere else.
“Let’s look up there,” Sarah said, pointing to a clump of green even more distant than the one he had picked out.
Samson climbed out of the canyon and came to join them.
“Why is Christmas so important to you?” Joe asked.
“Mama told me she was going to die,” Sarah began. She looked up at Joe. “But she said she wouldn’t really be gone. She said she was going to stay with Père Noel, far away where I couldn’t see her. She said Père Noel brought things from mommies to their little girls so they would know they hadn’t forgotten them. She said she would send me something every Christmas.”
Sarah looked away.
“Last year Papa said we couldn’t have Christmas. He said it was foolish. He said Père Noel was a lie and Mama was just telling me a story so I wouldn’t cry. He said she was gone away and I’d never hear from her again. He wouldn’t even let me put a ribbon on the door so Père Noel could find our house.”
She looked up at Joe once more.
“He didn’t come. I put out my shoes, but there was nothing in them. Do you think Papa was right?”
Joe decided that if anybody’d ever deserved to die by slow torture, it was Pete Wilson. “No. Père Noel probably couldn’t find you among all these cactus. I’m sure he’s got all your presents saved up. He’s going to look extra special hard this year to make sure he doesn’t miss you again. We’ll put an extra big bow on the door. We can leave a light in the window, too. We’re a long way from town, you know.”
“You really think he’ll come?”
“I’m sure of it. Now we’d better find that tree and get back home, or we’ll never get it decorated.”
They had climbed several thousand feet. There were pines and junipers all around to choose from.
Sarah stopped and pointed to a ledge fifty feet above their heads. “There, that’s the tree I want.”
Mary saw them when they topped the ridge a mile away. Joe on his big gelding, a big man silhouetted against the landscape; Sarah on the pinto, a little girl who looked even smaller next to Joe; Samson sniffing rocks in his never-ending quest for coyotes. And the tree. It was tied to Sarah’s pony. It almost enveloped the child.
The baby turned over. Mary put her hand on her stomach. She was feeling funny today. The baby seemed to have moved lower in her body. It caused her to waddle like a duck. Just the thing to make a man like Joe look on her with approval.
She had given up pretending she didn’t like him. Watching him riding patiently with Sarah conjured up even warmer emotions.
She loved Joe Ryan.
She still found it hard to believe a man like him existed. All the other men in her life had ended up being pretty much alike—rotten. She had given up hoping to find anybody different. Then, just when she felt she could carry on alone, Joe Ryan had come into her life and upset everything. He was exactly the kind of man she wanted.
But she couldn’t have him.
If she were a sensible woman, she would marry Brother Samuel. He wasn’t a warm man, but he was a kind one. He would prove to be stubborn in many ways, but a clever woman could probably handle him quite easily. And she was a clever woman.
But she didn’t want Brother Samuel, even if he hadn’t been a preacher, even if Sister Rachel hadn’t been his sister. She wanted an escaped convict who was on the run. That made her real clever.
They stopped. Apparently Joe had to readjust the tree. She wondered where they’d found it. They had been gone for most of the day. It was nearly eight o ’clock. The sun had dipped beyond the western hills, leaving streaks of orange, mauve, and a deep purply-black across the sky. She had become worried about them. She had been sitting on the porch for nearly two hours.
The fire in the stove would have gone out. Dinner would be cold. But that didn’t matter now. Joe would be home in a little while. She could warm everything up
.
Yes, Joe was coming home. This was where he belonged, where she felt he wanted to be, where she wanted him to be. But the world outside wouldn’t let him stay.
She picked up her pen and began, with swift, sure strokes, to create a picture of Sarah and Joe silhouetted against the evening sky.
While she waited, she had tried to think of what she might do to help him. She had racked her brain for any possible clue to where Pete had hidden the gold. She had even thought of hiding Joe. There were miles of hills in which a man could lose himself. But she knew Joe wouldn’t agree to that. He had come here to clear his name. He would never consider marrying her until he had.
And she wanted to marry Joe. She wanted him to be her husband, her lover, the father of the child she carried, the other children she hoped to have. She didn’t know what she could do, but she made up her mind not to give up hope. She’d never thought a man like Joe existed, but he did. There had to be a way to keep him.
She flipped the page and began a second picture as Joe and Sarah rode into the yard.
Sarah seemed hardly able to contain her excitement. She flitted around the cabin, talking enough to make up for several months of silence.
“I bet it’s the biggest Christmas tree in Arizona,” she said.
Joe leaned the tree against the wall, then made a stand for it. It almost reached the ceiling. The branches spread out three feet on either side of the trunk.
“I’m sure it is,” Mary agreed.
“We found dozens of other trees,” Joe told her, “but she wouldn’t be satisfied with any of them. She had to have the one growing on the highest ledge.”
“It was the prettiest.”
“You should have seen me clambering up the rocks like a mountain goat,” Joe said. “Nearly broke my neck.” “It’s beautiful,” Mary said, “but a smaller one would have been nice. There’s hardly enough room left for us.”
“You can put lots of pictures on it,” Sarah said, “lots more than that other old tree.”
That other old tree had been shoved into the stove, its existence forgotten and unlamented.
“Joe said we could put ribbons all over it,” Sarah told Mary. “I can’t reach the top. Will you lift me, Joe?”
