A Historical Christmas Present

by Lisa Kleypas

  “If you don’t stop dancing about, he’s liable to hang you from the ceiling,” Mary said.

  “No, he won’t. He said he’d like having a little girl like me. He said if he was married to you, he’d want me to call him Papa.”

  The escalation of tension was tangible. Joe kept his eyes on his work. He laid the tree on its side and measured the stand to make sure it fit. “Any marrying man would like a kid like Sarah,” he said as he drove a nail through the stand into the bottom of the tree. “She rides like she was born to it.” He drove in a second nail. “She’ll probably learn to rope cows before she’s ten.”

  “Will you teach me?”

  The tension increased another notch.

  Joe nailed one of the braces, turned the tree over, and nailed the second. “It’s like Brother Samuel said, it’s not proper to have a man like me hanging around.” He nailed another brace. “I should have left by now.” He nailed the last brace. He stood the tree up before he dared glance at Mary. “Some men just aren’t born to settle down.”

  Joe set the tree in the corner.

  Sarah’s face broke into an ear-to-ear grin, and she jumped up and down, clapping her hands in her excitement. “It will be the most beautiful tree in Arizona. I know it will.”

  “We’ll certainly do our best,” Mary said, coming out of her trance. “I’ll make the bows. You and Joe can tie them on.”

  “Give me one. Give me one,” Sarah begged, too excited to be silent.

  Mary quickly made a bow and handed it to the child.

  “Lift me up,” Sarah said to Joe. “Lift me high.”

  Mary’s fingers flew, cutting ribbon and making bows as fast as she could, but nearly every other fiber of her being was focused on Joe. Time and time again he lifted Sarah as if she weighed nothing, good-naturedly joining in her excitement, talking to her as though she was the most important person in his life.

  The child blossomed under his attention. It was hard to remember the scared, silent, hollow-eyed child she’d found when she became Pete’s wife. Joe might think he wasn’t meant to settle down, but he had the key to Sarah’s heart.

  And her own. She watched those powerful arms lift the child and longed to feel them wrapped around her. She saw his smile, felt the warmth of his caring. His presence transformed everything around him—her, Sarah, the cramped and cold cabin. Mary felt warm and protected. She felt happy and content. She felt a longing so intense that it blocked out the pain in her back.

  “That’s all the ribbon,” she said. “It’s time for the pictures. Make sure you tie them on the tips of the branches so they’ll hang right.”

  “You can do that,” Joe said.

  “I think I’ll watch.”

  Sarah took her hand and pulled. “Please, you help, too.”

  Mary started to get up, but the pain in her back grew worse.

  “I’d better sit down. I think I did too much today.”

  “I told you I’d fix dinner when I got home,” Joe said, worry clouding his eyes.

  “You’ve done that often enough. Besides, I thought you’d like something warm after a long, cold ride. Only then I let it get cold.”

  “We came home too late.”

  Home! He’d said it. He couldn’t be as untouched as he acted. He might not think he was a family man, but that was probably because things hadn’t worked out for him in the past. That didn’t mean he couldn’t be a family man now.

  The ugly fact of his uncompleted prison term reared its head, but Mary pushed it aside. Given time, they could find an answer to that. The real problem was how Joe felt.

  She shifted position to ease the pain in her back. She wished the baby hadn’t settled so low. It made it easier for her to breathe, but it put extra pressure on her spine.

  Almost instinctively she reached for her drawing pad. Of all the scenes she had rendered with her pen, this was the most important. She regretted having no colors. Without them, there was no way to capture the golden quality of the light that illuminated the cabin. It was impossible to show the drab, ordinary nature of Joe’s clothes in contrast to the vibrant love of life that glowed in his eyes. It was impossible to show the transformation that had taken place in Sarah.

  Most important of all, it was impossible to show the difference he had made in her life. Black and white had been all she needed before. That was how she’d viewed the world. But Joe had changed all that. He had brought spirit and passion into her life. He had brought love.

  It was impossible to show that without color.

  She looked down at her drawing. She hadn’t missed anything—the cabin, the tree, Sarah, even herself in the corner. But Joe was at the heart of the picture. Without him, this would have been just one more in a long string of dismal evenings.

  “Your mother is drawing again,” Joe said to Sarah. “Let’s see what she’s doing this time.”

  Mary turned the page over quickly. “I’m trying to get you two and the Christmas tree in the same picture. That one didn’t turn out the way I expected. Stop trying to look over my shoulder. I can’t concentrate when you do that.”

  “I can’t help it,” Joe said. “I can’t get over the way you make a picture appear—like magic.”

  Nothing like the magic you’ve wrought, Mary thought.

  But as Mary turned her attention to her drawing, she realized that there was something missing.

  There were no presents under the tree.

  Joe thought about the presents, too. He imagined Mary had something hidden away for Sarah, but it couldn’t be much. She hadn’t been able to get to town, and Christmas was only three days off.

  He paused on his walk to the barn. The night was radiant. The full moon flooded the landscape with light. It wasn’t the warm light of the day, and it was too weak to vanquish the shadows, but it was beautiful nonetheless. There was a ghostly stillness that was comforting, as though all the trouble of the world were held at a safe distance by some almighty hand. Countless stars winked in the dark canopy of the sky, their tiny lights friendly and cheerful.

  Samson trotted up. “Are you taking the night off?” Samson licked Joe’s hand. “Don’t come oiling up to me. I know you like Mary better than me. I can’t say I blame you, but I’m not going to forgive you either. I know she’s prettier than I am, but we’ve been together for six years. I even rescued you from that drunken old squatter. I was planning on taking you to California, and look at the thanks I get.”

  The dog gamboled around him, wagging his tail and barking playfully. “Don’t think you’re going to talk me into letting you share my bed. You’ll just get me up in an hour to let you out.”

  Fifteen minutes later, settled into his bedroll with Samson nestled beside him, Joe thought about the presents that weren’t under that tree. He knew Sarah didn’t expect much, but that wasn’t the point. Presents would mean that Père Noel had come. Presents would mean her mother still remembered her, still loved her.

  Either he was going to have to be Father Christmas, or Sarah would be disappointed again.

  Then there was Mary. She probably didn’t want anything. She certainly didn’t expect anything, but for her, Christmas would be a new beginning. Especially with the baby. He wanted to give her something to celebrate that new beginning, but he couldn’t think what. He certainly didn’t have anything in his saddlebags. Even if he could find her share of the gold, that wouldn’t be it either. What he wanted to give her couldn’t be found under any tree, but he didn’t allow himself to dwell on that.

  He would go into town tomorrow and hope no one recognized him.

  “Are you sure you have to go?” Mary asked next morning when he told her he was going into town.

  “I’ve got a few things I need to buy before I leave. And I told Brother Samuel I’d see him in a couple of days. He’s liable to come out here again if I don’t show up.”

  She didn’t care about Brother Samuel. She could put up with a hundred of his visits as long as Joe was here. She was a
fraid he meant to ride out and never come back. She was afraid that going to town was only a ruse to cover his leaving forever.

  “You’ve got to hurry back,” Sarah said. “You don’t want to miss Christmas.”

  “That’s not for two days,” Joe said. “That’s enough time to go to Tucson and back.”

  “I don’t want you to go to Tucson,” Sarah said.

  “I won’t. Now be sure to milk Queen Charlotte, gather the eggs, and take care of your ma. She’s not feeling too well.”

  Joe had noticed the moment he walked in the door. He always noticed.

  “I’ll leave Samson here to take care of you. Now I’ve got to be on my way. If I don’t leave soon, I won’t get back before midnight.”

  Mary felt some of the anxiety leave her. He wouldn’t go off and leave his dog. He had to be coming back. But she didn’t feel entirely reassured. She wouldn’t be until she saw him riding back over the ridge.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Pine Flat wasn’t much of a town. There weren’t any pines in it either. The town had been thrown up on a flat piece of desert between mountains. A dry wash ran along the base of the near ridge. The unpainted, weathered wood of the buildings stood out in stark contrast to the backdrop of orange-grey rock, pale-green cactus, and sapphire-blue sky.

  Joe pulled the brim of his hat low over his face. He rode down the single street quietly and slowly. He didn’t want to attract attention. It was after twelve o ’clock. He’d timed it that way, hoping most people would be eating their midday meal. The fewer who saw him, the less chance there was of anyone recognizing him.

  He stopped in front of Jones Emporium because it was the largest store in town. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to buy. He didn’t have much money. He had plenty in a bank in Denver, but he couldn’t touch that. He wouldn’t have any now if he hadn’t been in the habit of keeping a little gold dust back every time he made a shipment. After breaking out of jail, he’d made a quick trip to his claim to dig up the gold before heading south.

  He hoped the law still thought he was hiding somewhere in the Colorado mountains.

  “Wish me luck,” he said to General Burnside as he dismounted, “and keep your eyes open. If you see the law, go to bucking and whinnying for all you’re worth. If they catch me now, they’ll be auctioning you off before the month’s out. No telling what kind of sidewinder might buy you.”

  Inside the store, four oil lamps suspended from the ceiling couldn’t dispel a gloom made worse by dark wood and no windows. “Do you have any dresses for a six-year-old girl?” Joe asked a young female clerk.

  “How big is she?”

  Joe held his hand barely above his waist. “About this high.”

  “Over here,” the young woman said, leading him to a table covered with dresses. She showed him three of the correct size, a blue serge, a yellow party frock, and a dark blue dress with a white pinafore.

  Joe bought all three.

  “You got anything to make a house look like Christmas?” he asked. “Red ribbon and stuff like that?”

  “Not much,” the girl said.

  Joe bought ribbon, colored paper, and streamers of colored crepe paper to wrap around the tree.

  That was when he found the set of paints.

  “This all you got?” he asked. He opened the box. Inside were sixteen little compartments containing a rainbow of colors.

  “It’s the last one,” the salesgirl said.

  “I need some drawing paper.”

  He was in luck. They had several pads. He bought them all. He also bought a baby’s rattle, a white dress the girl said could be used for a christening, and a thick blanket. His grandmother used to say all babies caught cold in the winter. He didn’t want Mary’s baby catching anything.

  He also bought some canned fruit, a jar of jelly, a ham, a side of bacon, and a sack of flour. He bought Sarah a box of bath powder and a mirror; he bought Mary a box of scented soap and a small cameo pin.

  He also bought himself a coat. It would be a long, cold trip to California.

  “You got quite a haul there,” the man behind the counter said when Joe had added stick candy and a small box of chocolates to his pile.

  “I don’t get home much,” Joe said. “Almost missed Christmas.”

  “They’ll sure be glad to see you this time,” the man said as he sorted Joe’s purchases and added up the prices. “You’ll want this wrapped up?”

  “Good and tight,” Joe said. “I’m on horse back.”

  “Better be a strong horse,” the clerk said as he gave Joe the total.

  Joe took out a small bag of gold dust. “Got some scales?”

  “I’ll have to get Mr. Jones,” the clerk said.

  Joe fidgeted while the clerk found the proprietor. He forced himself to remain outwardly calm while Hiram Jones peppered him with questions as he weighed out the proper amount of gold.

  Joe was anxious to get out of town. He had drawn too much attention to himself by the amount of his purchases and paying in gold. He wanted to be gone before Mr. Jones and his clerks had a chance to spread the story.

  He cussed aloud when, just as he had loaded his purchases and mounted up, Brother Samuel Hawkins came striding down the boardwalk. The man eyed Joe’s bundles with suspicion.

  “That seems like a lot to be carrying all the way to California,” Brother Samuel observed.

  “It’s mostly Christmas presents for Mary and the kid,” Joe said, damning Brother Samuel for his nosiness. “I decided I couldn’t leave just now. Nobody likes to be alone at Christmas. Besides, with the baby coming, Mary hasn’t been able to get to town to buy anything for the kid.”

  “Mrs. Wilson needed only to ask my sister or myself. We would have been more than happy to make any purchases for her.”

  Joe gathered up the reins and started General Burnside walking down the street. If the Reverend Brother Samuel wanted to talk to him, he was going to have to keep up.

  “She probably didn’t want to bother anybody. She’ll most likely be mad enough to chew splinters when she sees what I’ve done. But I couldn’t do anything else. Sort of in Pete’s memory, you know.”

  The Reverend Brother looked as though he didn’t like the answer but didn’t know quite how to punch a hole in it. “My sister and I were planning to visit on Christmas.”

  “You come right ahead. I’m sure she’ll be glad to see you. Now I gotta be going. General Burnside here is getting impatient to be home before dark.”

  “I believe my sister and I will come out this afternoon.”

  Joe pulled General Burnside to a halt and leveled a stony glance at Brother Samuel. “Now why would you be wanting to do a thing like that? You were just out there.”

  Brother Samuel didn’t look quite so self-assured now. “I tried to explain how important it is to be scrupulous with Mrs. Wilson’s reputation.”

  Joe could feel cold anger start to build in him. “There’s nobody I know of doubting Mary except you.”

  “I don’t doubt Mrs. Wilson!” Brother Samuel exclaimed.

  “Sounds like it to me. I thought preachers were supposed to have faith in good people.”

  “Not everybody is so high-minded.”

  “Then I wouldn’t care a whit about what they thought.”

  “I have to care,” Brother Samuel announced. “I intend to ask Mrs. Wilson to marry me. My wife’s reputation must be above reproach.”

  Joe glared at the preacher. He was a little beetle of a man, an insect dressed in black. How dared he think of touching Mary, much less marrying her. She was too good for him. He would be too stupid to know what he had found. He’d try to hedge her in with restrictions and rules and protocol and everything else he could think of to squeeze the life and soul out of her.

  Joe didn’t want Brother Samuel to marry Mary because he wanted to marry her himself.

  “Mary’s reputation is good enough for you or anybody else,” Joe said, his anger rising. “I’ll break the neck of any man w
ho says otherwise.”

  “I said nothing like that! I merely said—”

  “You’ve said too much. You’d better go home to your midday meal. Hunger is making you sound out of temper.”

  Joe turned his horse and nearly rode into the sheriff.

  “Howdy,” the sheriff said. “You’re new in town, aren’t you?”

  It took Joe a moment to calm his anger enough to answer in an even voice. “Just passing through.”

  “You’ve got quite a load for a traveling man.”

  “Christmas,” Joe said. “For friends.”

  Brother Samuel started to introduce the two men. The sheriff’s name was Howells. “I just realized I don’t know your name,” Brother Samuel said to Joe.

  “Hank Frazier,” Joe said. “I used to be Pete Wilson’s partner. Just stopped off to give my respects to his widow on my way to California.”

  “It’s a sad thing to happen to a new bride,” Sheriff Howells commented. “She hardly got here before her husband was killed. Then to find herself expecting a baby.”

  “The Reverend here seems to think he’s the one to lend her a helping hand,” Joe said.

  “She could do worse,” Sheriff Howells said. “Much worse.”

  “Well that’s none of my concern,” Joe said. “Nice to meet you, Sheriff, but I got to be on my way.”

  Joe pulled his hat a little lower on his head and walked General Burnside out of town. He couldn’t decide which worried him more, the possibility that Mary might marry Brother Samuel or the chance that the sheriff had recognized him.

  “This is what comes from getting hooked up with a woman,” he told General Burnside. “Normally I wouldn’t care who a pregnant woman married. Never cared two hoots about kids, especially little girls. Now look at me. I’ve spent nearly half my money, I still haven’t found the gold, and I’m running around town talking to a sheriff who probably has my picture on his wall. Worst of all, I’m jealous of some beak-nosed fool who calls himself Brother Samuel Hawkins.”

  Joe rode for a few miles in silence.

  “I can’t marry her. Everything was against it from the start. It’s done nothing but get worse since. Besides, who’s to say she would have me? Any sensible woman would choose the Reverend Brother Samuel over me. Now that’s a lowering thought. Samson would be laughing out of both sides of his mouth.”