Poor Boy's Christmas with Bonus Book

by Kathleen Ball

  His lips twitched. She thought he was asking about his privates. He bit the inside of his cheek to stop the roar of laughter begging to escape. He didn’t know why, but he puffed up with pride knowing his was bigger. No not bigger, much bigger. Finally, he couldn’t contain his laughter. It rumbled from deep within, and once he started he couldn’t seem to stop. She frowned at him, gaped at him, threatened to kill him, but he still laughed. When she asked what was so funny, he only laughed harder.

  Molly started to cry, and Ginger quickly picked her up. She gave him a murderous look before she tried to calm the baby.

  He finally stopped laughing and stared at them longingly. He wasn’t making any headway with her at all. In fact, things seemed worse. “I’m sorry. Why don’t you bring her here?”

  She hesitated then walked to the side of the bed. “I don’t like being laughed at.” The hurt in her eyes saddened him. She handed him Molly and walked away.

  “I hurt you. I care for you too much to want to hurt you.” Silence ensued and he could have kicked himself for revealing his feelings.

  She stared at him. “I lied when I said I didn’t like your kisses. I’m embarrassed I’m the type of woman who takes her clothes off and jumps in bed with you. I bet most ladies would have balked at the very notion. I can’t help but think you must have a low opinion of me. I had Molly out of wedlock and I shamed myself by sleeping with you.” A lone tear trailed down her face. “Growing up everyone whispered I would end up to be no good like my father, and they were right. It doesn’t matter where I go, I always do something wrong. I plan to change that when Molly and I leave, God willing.”

  “God willing you will leave or God willing you plan to change?” He held his breath.

  “Both perhaps. I don’t know. I know the best way to repay your kindness is to get out of your life. You don’t want to be saddled with me. You may think you care for me but you just feel sorry for me.”

  “Is that what you really think? I feel sorry for you? I wish I could leap out of this bed and show you how sorry I don’t feel. I care for you more than I’ve ever cared before. You can’t change the way I feel and you did nothing shameful, nothing. You saved my life by giving me your heat. If you hadn’t climbed in with me, we wouldn’t be having this discussion. You gave me a wonderful Christmas present. I’m greedy though. I want the greatest gift.”

  “The greatest gift?” Her brow furrowed.

  “You’ll figure it out, and it has nothing to do with your body.” He wanted to smile at her but he didn’t want her to cry again. “Tell you what. I’ll trade you Molly for some pancakes.”

  She gave him a half smile. “My pancakes are that good, are they?”

  “You are an exceptional cook.” He watched in pleasure as she blushed and smiled deeply. She went back to the stove, piled some pancakes on a plate, and traded them for Molly.

  “I got the better end of the deal,” she said.

  “I don’t know, sweetheart. I think she needs changing.”

  He certainly was a mystery. He was right about one thing; she shouldn’t feel shame for saving him last night. He called it a gift and perhaps it was. She did it without thinking about anything else but saving him. What was the greatest gift he talked about? The only great gift she could think of she already gave to Albert. She’s been told from an early age her virginity was the greatest gift but Foster thought something else was. Her eyes widened.

  “I won’t give you such a gift.”

  His mouth dropped open. “What?”

  “Molly is my daughter and she stays with me.”

  “Of course she does, honey. I didn’t mean to upset you.” He handed her his empty plate. “I’m going to get out of bed.”

  “I think you should rest. That bump on your head looks big…” She swallowed hard. “Is that what you meant? The bump on your head? You knew I misunderstood and laughed about it?”

  His lips twitched and he started laughing again.

  “Stop laughing.”

  He laughed louder. “I can’t.”

  “The reason yours is much bigger is because Albert doesn’t have a bump on his head.” She gave him a curt nod expecting the laughter to stop, but it only started it up again. Staring him down didn’t help either. She approached him, ready to swat him when he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her down onto the bed. She sputtered and tried to get up, but he held her tight.

  “Listen, I want our life to be one of love and laughter. I want to share the sun and the stars with you. I want us to build the finest ranch around. I want to be your husband and Molly’s father. I want the greatest gift; your love.”

  Lying on her back, she stared at him in surprise. “You love me? My love is the greatest gift?” She gave him a smile of love. “I thought you didn’t want a wife.”

  “I didn’t, but somehow you changed all that. I’ve never known anyone so selfless and kind. You are loving and strong. I didn’t mean for it to happen but it did. I love you, Ginger.”

  Her heart skipped a beat as happiness soared through her. She’d never felt so loved. “I love you too, Foster. You are kind and giving. Hard and strong, yet gentle. I want you to be my husband. I’m tired of trying to deny my feelings for you. You’ve already been a good father to Molly.”

  He leaned down and touched her lips with his. The first kiss was light and fluttery, almost teasing. The second one he slanted his lips over hers, deepening the kiss. When he lifted up to look at her, he stroked her face. The third kiss would have knocked her down if she’d been standing. He put his tongue into her mouth, swirling it around until hers began to touch his. It was intoxicating; unlike anything she’d ever known.

  How she wanted him. His tongue began to go in and out of her mouth, imitating how their union would be. Her breasts tightened and her nipples hardened in need, but they couldn’t. She needed to heal inside. But once healed, she planned on making up for lost time.

  “How long?” He asked his lips still on hers.

  “How would I know?”

  He pulled back and smiled at her. “I suppose we wait until you are no longer sore. Probably a few months.”

  “That sounds way too long. We’ll figure it out together.”

  “I like that. Figuring it out together. Ginger Galway, will you marry me?”

  “Of course I will.” Her eyes misted. “I never thought I’d get married.”

  “Isn’t it wonderful how life works?”

  Epilogue

  Three Months Later

  “I feel completeness with you I never thought possible.” Ginger looked down at her gold wedding band.

  “I’m glad we didn’t wait until spring. I wanted you every minute of every day and I wouldn’t have been able to stand it much longer.” Foster took her hand and kissed her palm. “I wanted to do it the right way and I’m so glad it didn’t take as long as I thought for you to heal.”

  “And what a lucky break we had that thaw last month.” She smiled and blushed when he winked at her. Foster took Molly from her arms while Patches looked on, purring.

  “This little one has so much red hair she looks so much like you.” Molly started to scream and her face, neck, and little fists turned red. “Oh my, she’s got the temper to go with her hair.”

  She laughed. “That’s a myth. Look at me. I’m never mad.” She laughed when Foster didn’t respond. “I’m that bad?”

  He handed Molly back to her and took them both into his warm embrace. He smelled of the outdoors and horses. “There is nothing about you that is bad. It was my luckiest day when you decided to give birth in my barn. You make everything in life better. We’ll make our own good memories to get rid of the bad.”

  She held onto him. He was her port in a very bad storm and he continued to be her rock. Theirs was a forever type of love. He gave as much love as he took, and he was never too tired to love her at night. “Finding your barn was a type of miracle. Now Christmas will always be a time for us to celebrate. It’s the time we gave
and received the greatest gift— love.”

  The End

  I'm so pleased you chose to read The Greatest Gift, and it's my sincere hope that you enjoyed the story. I would appreciate if you'd consider posting a review. This can help an author tremendously in obtaining a readership. My many thanks. ~ Kathleen

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  Love Before Midnight

  By Kathleen Ball

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  Love So Deep

  Samantha tried wrapping her scarf around her head, but the weight of the hardened ice kept dragging it down. The naysayers were right, winter came early—very early and with a vengeance. She stared at the pure white snow dotted with Ponderosa pines. Their branches bowed from the snowy burden. She’d doubted her survival the minute they banned her from the wagon train but as she walked away, she grew determined to survive. What a difference a few weeks made. As soon as the storm hit two days ago, her doubts returned.

  She took a step and stumbled. The hem of her dress, caked with icy snow, made it hard going. With each step, her feet punched through the snow and sank. Her hands stung from the biting cold. Soon she wouldn’t feel them anymore. She knew the signs of frostbite. Pushing herself upright she struggled on, one exhausting step at a time.

  The wind howled and she wanted to cry at its sad song. She’d been on her own for two long weeks now. How she hated the pious women she’d traveled with. The death of her parents left her alone and a woman alone was not allowed on the wagon train. The married women believed she’d entice their husbands. The same women whose children she nursed when they were sick. The hypocrisy ate at her soul.

  It was either marry Old Thomas or leave. She refused to marry, calling their bluff. Unfortunately, it wasn’t a bluff. They threw her a sack of food and a canteen of water and left her behind.

  Again, she fell face first into the snow. Struggling to rise, she shook her head. Maybe it’d be easier to just lay there and fall into a forever sleep. Her food was long ago eaten and her strength had held out surprisingly long, but now she wasn’t sure it was worth the effort.

  A horse nickered and she pushed herself up. Her heart skipped a beat in fright. On the horse sat a huge man covered in animal furs. His rifle lay across his lap.

  “Get up,” he said, his voice full of anger.

  Samantha pushed and struggled until she stood. This was it. She just hoped her death would be painless. Putting her frigid hands on her hips, she brazenly studied him. His slate blue eyes were full of compassion. He held out his hand. She grasped it and he hauled her up in front of him.

  “Let’s get you warm.” He opened his fur coat, pulled her against his warm body, and wrapped them both up. “Where are your people?”

  “My people?”

  “Yes, do you have a cabin here bouts? You shouldn’t be out here alone. It’s dangerous and in the snow it’s easy to get lost.”

  Turning her head, she felt his warm breath against her cheek. His full beard brushed against her. “I’m on my own. I was hoping to find a town.”

  He didn’t say anything else as he urged his steed forward. It was slow going in the snow but the horse seemed to know its way. Leaning back against his wide chest, her eyes closed.

  She awoke with a start, not recognizing where she was. A fire danced in the massive stone fireplace, but beyond the firelight, it was dark. Pain shot through her hands and feet. It was expected with frostbite but she didn’t know just how painful it was until now.

  The cabin looked well built out of hand-hewed logs, and no wind came through the walls. It was tiny, but it probably suited the man who rescued her. Sitting up, she waited for her eyes to adjust to the semi-darkness. There was a big pile of furs in one corner, a table with two chairs, and a makeshift kitchen area. Wooden crates hung on the walls to serve as shelves and a roughly put together plank of wood with logs for legs held a few kitchen items and tools.

  Above the pile of furs were pegs on which a few items of clothing hung. There was nothing fancy and nothing of convenience but it was warm. She was grateful to have shelter from the cold. The pain in her fingers was the worst and she dreaded looking at them. Slowly she pulled them out from under the covers and to her relief, they weren’t blackened with severe frostbite.

  The door opened and the man came in, a bundle of firewood in his arms. Kicking the door closed behind him, he then glanced in her direction. “So, you’ve decided to come back to this world, did ya?”

  “How long was I asleep?” Her body tensed, not sure what he had in store for her.

  He laid the wood next to the fireplace and threw a log on top of the fire. The flame blazed higher. “Only a day. You sure were hard to thaw, and I’m glad ya was out when I tended your hands and feet. Painful business it is.”

  “Thank you. They’re still hurting. It was nice of you to tend to me. I was afraid I’d lose them. Actually, I figured I was going to die out there. I’ve never seen snow so early. I wonder how the others fared.”

  His dark brow rose. “Others? You said you were alone. Damn, I live up here to be away from folks, not to go rescue them.” He took off his fur coat and sat down.

  “I am, or was, alone. I got kicked off the wagon train and was left to fend for myself.” Her voice contained the bitterness she couldn’t hide.

  “What in tarnation are you talking about? You must have done something pretty awful to be banned from the train.”

  “Of course.”

  His blue eyes widened and he ran his hand through his thick black hair. It hung past his shoulders and she wondered when was the last time he’d had it cut. “You might as well tell me. I’m not the type to judge.”

  “My parents died and they refused to let me travel with them alone. It was either marry old toothless Thomas or be thrown off the train. To my surprise they were serious and when I refused to marry Thomas they filled a sack with a meager amount of food, filled a canteen, and allowed me to take my coat and scarf with me.” She paused as all the pain came rushing back. There hadn’t even been time to mourn the passing of her dear mother and father.

  “Miss, that’s—”

  “It’s Samantha. Samantha Foley.”

  He nodded. “I’m Patrick McCrery. I have to say that’s quite the yarn you’re spinning.”

  She glanced away from his intense eyes. “I wish it was just a story.”

  “Well now, are ya sure ya weren’t inviting the married men to look your way?”

  A loud sigh was her reply. She’d thought the people on the wagon train were crazy, but now a stranger believed her capable of luring men. What was it about her that people assumed such an awful thing? “I thought you said no judgment.”

  “Aye, I did. How long ago did they put you out?”

  “I’d say two weeks or so. I tried to follow by foot but they actually threw rocks at me to keep me away. As far as I’m concerned, they left me to die.” A tear rolled down her face. “Ouch!” She tried to wipe it away.

  “Don’t cry. I hate crying. If ya want me to believe your story I will.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Just what is it about me that screams whore to you?”

  “You have pretty blonde hair, and a man could get lost in those big blue eyes of yours. I have to say you're nicely rounded in the right places. You don’t seem very meek either.”

  “You think I should have married Thomas? He is shiftless and wanted me to be his worker, not a wife. It would have caused trouble since I had no inclination to lay with him. He surely would have beaten me for it too. So, maybe my predicament is my fault. I suppose I chose death over a life of sheer hell.”

  His face softened a bit but she could see the clouds of doubt in his eyes. “I bet you’re hungry. I’ll throw something together.” There was an edge to his voice and it didn’t invite any more conversation.

  Lying back dow
n, she figured she might as well try to regain her strength before she was put out again.

  Patrick squatted before the fire, adding wild onion to his venison stew. It was his winter staple. He wasn’t sure what to think. Her story, though far-fetched could be true. He’d heard of worse. Sometimes people on a wagon train turned on each other. Usually they just broke into smaller groups. Who in their right mind would leave a woman behind? There was no way she was as innocent as she claimed.

  Glancing over his shoulder, his eyes drank their fill of her. She was beautiful and while sleeping he could imagine her to be an angel, but he knew better. Most people weren’t what they showed the world. No, many harbored secrets and prejudices. Samantha, he’d never known a woman with that name before. She was probably supposed to be a boy named Sam and her parents had chosen a female name.

  Her honey blonde hair fanned out on the pillow. It’d been a long time since he’d seen a woman so fair. He went to town twice a year for supplies, other than that he lived a mostly solitary life. There were a few neighbors like him, who didn’t like the closed-in feel of a town. He tried the town life for a bit but people were not a charitable lot. They never forgave his parents for their supposed sins.

  Traps needed checking and he couldn’t take the time to indulge himself in his musings. Grabbing his heavy coat, he glanced back at Samantha and went out into the cold. The frigid bite hit him full force and ducking his head against the wind, he made his way to the makeshift barn. His horse, Ahearn, was always ready and willing to go no matter what the weather. He more than earned his name, which meant Lord of Horses in Gaelic.

  Leaving a woman to starve and freeze—what was the world coming to? He mounted his horse and off they went to make their way among the traps. He already had a good amount of the finest furs and it made him proud. Hard work always paid off.