by Anna Schmidt
Miss Kaufmann cocked an eyebrow. “There are no buts to this situation, Grace. We simply cannot tolerate such carelessness. This is your doing, and I will not let you off easily. Get to work now.”
So she missed the appointment with the banker, and when she finally left the dining room after scouring the floor, scrubbing the stains from the cloths and hanging them to dry, setting the tables with fresh linens and place settings, and then ironing and putting away the laundered tablecloths, she trudged wearily up the back stairs.
Emma and Lily were out for the evening. She entered the room, lit only by the light of streetlamps, and collapsed onto her bed. Something crunched beneath her head. She sat up and picked up a thick white envelope with her name scrawled across the front in an unfamiliar script.
She walked to the window and slid her thumbnail under the sealed flap. Inside was a single vellum card that read:
It would appear you do not honor your promises, Grace. Be assured that I always do.
J. Perkins
She shuddered. What could he do to her? The fact that he had found a way to have this message left on her pillow illustrated his power. The true question was what would he do? Her imagination refused to stop spitting out visions of just how much trouble she was in. Perhaps he would hire a thug to accost and rape her. Perhaps he would accuse her of something and ruin her reputation, get her fired. Perhaps he would—
Stop this.
All she had to do was respond to his note, explain what had happened, promise to meet him another night.
And then what?
He would never listen to reason. She had been foolish to think he might. Even if he believed that she was unchaste, he would accuse her of leading him on, of pretending to be something she was not—a Harvey Girl of the highest moral character. She stood frozen to the spot, gazing out the window at the bank where he had waited for her.
She had tricked him once, and now he believed she had done so again. He would want his revenge. Earlier, he had taken that revenge out on Nick. Somehow, he understood how important Nick was to her. No, she realized, he would not harm her. He would attack those she cared for—like Emma or Lily.
She could hear her roommates coming down the hall, their voices soft. They were the best friends Grace had ever had. She would not involve them in this as she had before. Jasper Perkins was her problem—and hers alone.
* * *
Nick was at loose ends. With winter setting in, Christmas less than a week away, and no land to clear and prepare for building the cabin he and Grace had dreamed of sharing, his days were long and boring. And as a result, his temper was short. That morning, he had argued with Slim over a miscalculation the hired hand had made regarding the count on the herd. A steer was missing, and he and Slim were out now riding the range, looking for a missing cow.
He saw the cowboy in the distance, covering a portion of the land that ran along a barbed wire fence that separated the Lombard land from its neighbor. “Tracks!” Slim shouted, and Nick spurred Sage to a gallop as he covered the distance between them.
The fence had been cut. “Rustlers,” Slim said and glanced around as if expecting to see the culprits still in the area.
“Yeah,” Nick replied. He dismounted and examined the wire. He’d been too hard on Slim. After all, over time, he’d made mistakes in the count himself. “Let’s get this repaired before they get any more of our stock.”
Together, they pulled the wire tight and twisted the ends to make the barrier secure again. They worked without talking—but also without the tension of their earlier argument. Slim would just let it go, but Nick knew he’d been unfair.
“Sorry about earlier,” he muttered as they reattached the wire to the post.
Slim shrugged. “Been a few days since you last rode into town,” he said. Then he grinned at Nick. “You missing that Harvey filly?”
Nick swallowed a chuckle, knowing the men had probably been talking about what might be behind his sour disposition. “Yeah, it’s been a while. She’s had work, and that snowstorm closed the pass between here and town.”
“Pass should be open now.” Slim looked up at the sun. “Been warm enough these last two days to melt a way through. Maybe you ought to think about going. Me and the others can handle things here. I mean, if you was to get stuck there by another storm or something.”
Slim delivered this without looking directly at Nick.
“You suggesting I take a couple of days off?”
Slim tested other parts of the fence, looking for other points of weakness. He shrugged. “You seem wound pretty tight, Nick.”
“I’ll think about it,” he said as the two men returned to their horses. “We’re unlikely to get that cow back, Slim. Not your fault she went missing.”
“I know.” Slim turned his horse to head away from the ranch. “I’ll just ride the whole fence line to be sure there aren’t any other cuts.”
“Good idea. You head north, and I’ll do the south end.”
“And then you’ll get yourself cleaned up and smelling pretty and head to town?” Slim grinned. “Not sure me and the boys can stand one more night of you keeping us awake with your pacing.”
Nick laughed. “All right. You made your point. I’ve got some shopping to do anyway. What do you fellas want for Christmas, Slim?”
“A foreman that don’t growl at us like a grouchy ol’ bear would be real nice.” Slim spurred his horse and rode off.
By the time he’d checked the fencing and returned to the bunkhouse, Nick had decided to take Slim’s advice. If the pass wasn’t open, there were other ways to get to town—longer, but then he had always enjoyed his time alone riding the range with nobody to talk to but Sage.
He stopped at the ranch house and asked permission to take a couple of days off.
“Of course. Going over to spend the holiday at your land?” John Lombard asked. Nick had not told him about his encounter with Jasper Perkins or about the bank calling in the loan.
“Thought I might go into town.”
John grinned. “Spend Christmas with your gal? She’s a pretty one, Nick—and smart, from what I could tell. She’s certainly a hard worker, and I know Rita thinks she’s a right good match for you.”
Nick felt the blush spread across his already wind-reddened cheeks. “She’s pretty special,” he said.
“Well, go on. Get outta here,” John said. “And wish Grace a merry Christmas from us.”
Nick washed up, combed his hair, and put on his hat. “Well, boys, I’ll see you in a couple of days.”
The cowboys looked up from their card game. They grinned, and Smokey let out a whistle. “You smell awful pretty for a cowpoke, Nick.”
Nick laughed. “It was you taught me that’s what the ladies like, Smokey.” As he left the bunkhouse, he could hear the others turning their teasing on Smokey. He chuckled as he saddled Sage and realized Slim had offered exactly the remedy he’d needed to dispel his foul mood.
The pass was still closed, but as anxious as he was to get to Juniper and see Grace, Nick wasn’t disappointed. Grace was working, so adding an hour onto his trip wouldn’t make much difference in when he could see her—hold her, kiss her, make love to her. In the meantime, the longer way gave him time to think and to figure out what they were going to do once Grace’s contract was completed. It would be two long months before they could be together openly and start living life as a married couple.
The first thing he did when he reached town was stop at the mercantile. He walked straight to the display of ladies’ hats and plucked the one he’d shown Grace that day from the shelf. Then he looked around. The hat no longer seemed like enough. This was his wife he was buying a present for, not a girl he was trying to get to know. He spied some rolls of ribbon behind the counter. He thought about their wedding and the ribbons wound through her hair. Those had been white, but
what if she had a whole rainbow of colors to use? “How do you sell those?” he asked.
“By the yard usually. Two cents a yard.”
Nick counted the rolls and calculated the cost. “A yard of each. No, wait.” He’d just seen a set of combs like the ones he’d noticed on the bathroom sink that night they spent at the La Casita Hotel. “Those?”
Frank understood he was asking the price. “They’re kind of pricey, Nick—tortoise with mother-of-pearl inlaid and carved the way they are.”
“How much?”
Frank named a price.
Nick checked the price on the hat.
“I can do better if you buy the hat and the combs together,” Frank offered.
Nick was low on cash, having spent most of his pay over the last couple of months on the loan. Even though he’d received a voucher from the bank a week after his encounter with Perkins, the amount was less than half what he’d originally paid out. But this was Christmas, their first Christmas, and he wanted to give her something she would have forever. He pushed the hat aside. “Wrap up the combs,” he said, reaching in his pocket for the money. “If the hat’s still here for her birthday, maybe I’ll come back for it.”
He watched Frank place the combs in a case made especially for them and realized he had no idea when her birthday was.
How little we know about each other, he thought. And yet he had never met another woman—or anyone for that matter—with whom he could share anything or whom he could trust not to doubt him when he talked of his dreams for the future.
Frank was tying the package with lengths of red, pink, green, lavender, and white ribbons that he measured out and cut from the rolls behind the counter.
“Thanks,” Nick said as he took the package and handed Frank the money. “You didn’t have to.”
Frank shrugged. He held up a finger and then filled a paper sack with peppermint sticks, licorice, and chocolates before handing it to Nick. “Merry Christmas, Nick.”
By the time Nick left the store, the sun was setting and most of the shops had already closed for the holiday. Grace would be finishing her shift. It was Christmas Eve, and neither the dining room nor the lunch counter would be open on Christmas Day. The way he saw it, they had all night tonight, all day tomorrow, and all tomorrow night to be together before she would have to be back at work. He made his way to their secret cabin, where he fashioned some juniper and sage branches into a makeshift Christmas tree. He untied all but one of the ribbons from the package and wound them through the boughs and then set the gift next to it. He would save the candy for the guys in the bunkhouse. He gathered dried sage and some cypress wood and stacked it, ready to light it once he brought her to the cabin. Last, he laid out his bedroll, covered it with a blanket, and headed for the hotel. They might face a lot of problems in the coming year, but he was determined to make this first Christmas one they would never forget.
* * *
Grace was exhausted. She had worked a full day after putting in extra hours the night before cleaning up the mess she’d made with the soup. She’d promised Emma and Lily that she would attend church services with the hotel staff. All the girls were going, as well as most of the men who worked in the kitchen. But all she really wanted to do was take a long, hot bath and climb into bed. This was her first Christmas as a married woman, and she was missing Nick. The combination of the weather and their work schedules had kept them apart. She had imagined giving him the pocketknife while they sat under the blanket on the floor of the cabin, having finished a supper she would have brought for them. She had imagined his eyes as he opened the present. She had imagined a lot more than that, and the truth was, the last thing she was feeling was anything even close to the spirit of Christmas.
“You can’t not go,” Lily protested when Grace tried to beg off attending the church service. “Everyone will be there. And I won’t have you up here all by yourself moping.”
“Come on, Grace,” Emma urged. “It will take your mind off missing your family—and Nick.”
“An hour,” Lily exclaimed. “What possible difference can an hour make when you have all day tomorrow to sleep?”
“All right, but I’m having that bath.”
The church was crowded, but Jake had saved seats for them in a pew near the back. There were candles and winter greenery on the sill of every window, their glow bringing the beautiful stained glass to life in spite of the darkness outside. The altar was trimmed with vivid red poinsettias and two large candelabras that held eight fat candles each. Grace felt herself relax as the choir entered their loft and the organist struck up “O Come, All Ye Faithful.”
As one, the congregation rose, their voices blending with the harmony provided by the choir. As they sang, someone crowded into the pew next to Grace. She pressed closer to Lily to make room and then turned to share her hymnal with the latecomer.
Grace gasped, and Nick grinned back at her. Lily elbowed her on her other side, muttering, “It’s a Christmas miracle.”
He was actually there, sharing Christmas with her. Her heart swelled with joy. Following the hymn, everyone sat down again, and because of the close quarters, Grace felt her hip and shoulder pressed against Nick’s. As they listened to the reading of the Christmas story from the book of Luke, Nick linked his fingers with hers.
After services as the throng of people left the church, Nick and Grace slipped away to the cabin. He had her cover her eyes as they approached and wait outside a minute, claiming he needed to light the fire. He returned, urging her not to peek as he led her through the narrow door. “Okay,” he said. “Open your eyes.”
The fire was already starting to warm the small space, and she saw the makeshift tree he’d created from branches and a rainbow of ribbons, then she noticed a gift-wrapped box.
“Merry Christmas, Mrs. Hopkins,” he whispered, stepping behind her and wrapping his arms around her.
“Oh, Nick, let me run back to the hotel and get my gift for you.”
“Tomorrow. We have this whole evening, and I don’t want to miss spending a moment of it with you.”
He led her to the blanket where he’d set up a meal of bread, cheese, apples, and cider. He took out his old pocketknife to peel the apples, the handle of the knife coming loose twice before he completed the task. She smiled, knowing the pocketknife she’d bought for him was going to be the perfect gift.
“Open your present,” he said.
“But it’s not Christmas yet.”
“Close enough. Come on, open it.” His excitement was boyish and irresistible.
She picked up the gift and fingered the ribbon before carefully untying the bow and opening the box. Inside was another box—a wooden one, polished to a high sheen. She opened that and drew in a breath. “Nick, they’re so beautiful.” She removed the pair of combs and examined their intricate design by the light of the fire.
He scooted over so that he sat behind her, his legs spread to either side of her, and he began removing the pins from her hair and letting it fall over her shoulders. He took the combs from her and began slowly combing through the long strands. When he was finished, he handed her the combs. “Fix them in your hair,” he said. “Let me see how they look.”
She did as he asked. “It’s difficult to know exactly how to place them without a mirror. How’s that look?”
“Almost perfect.”
“Almost?”
“Well, you see, all that clothing up and around your neck and shoulders kind of ruins the effect.” He knelt in front of her. “I think if we just open this…” He unfastened the jacket of her outfit and pushed it off her shoulders, studied her a moment, then shook his head. “Still too much,” he muttered as he began opening the buttons that closed the bodice of her dress.
She shrugged out of it. “Better?”
“Getting there,” he replied, his voice husky with desire. “Jus
t maybe…” He untied the ribbons on her camisole, then sat back on his heels. “Needs something more.”
She lowered the camisole so that her breasts were exposed. “How’s this?”
“Perfect,” he whispered as he reached for her.
She cocked her head and studied him with a frown.
He moved away. “What’s wrong?”
“Well, seems to me you’re overdressed, Mr. Hopkins. I mean with all this heat—from the fire and all.”
He grinned. “Any ideas how you might remedy that?”
She pushed his coat away, and he pulled his arms free. Then she pushed the suspenders off those broad shoulders and tugged his shirt from his trousers, lifting it over his head and tossing it aside. She leaned forward and kissed his chest, allowing her tongue to glide over the ridges of his muscles the way he’d taught her on their wedding night. She delighted in the shiver that ran through him.
He laid her back on the blanket and knelt at her feet, removing her shoes, then her stockings, then her pantaloons. Naked under the skirt of her dress, she lifted her hips to give him access to remove that garment as well, but instead, he ran his palm over her bare legs, along the inside of her thighs, close to the fire already raging inside her, and then away again.
She tunneled her hand down the front of his trousers and found him every bit as ready as she was. “It’s been too long,” she whispered, lathing his inner ear with her tongue.
He propped his weight on his hands and kissed her.
Seconds later, they had both fully undressed, casting aside the various pieces of clothing as they tumbled together back onto the blanket. He rolled with her so that she sat atop him. She could feel the fullness of him pressed against her inner thighs. He pulled her to him for a kiss she wished would never end. Then slowly, he lowered her so that she could feel him sliding inside, easily, perfectly, as if they had been created to fit together as one.
She reached up and removed the precious combs, setting them aside as she shook out the mane of her hair. When she bent forward, her hair formed a curtain that sheltered and warmed them both. She started moving in a rhythm that seemed as natural and inborn as breathing. She thrilled to the realization that she was leading in this dance they’d created.
