The Cowboy Who Saved Christmas

by Jodi Thomas

  Before she could take the step into the wagon, she looked up and saw Trapper standing a few feet away. He seemed frozen as he stared.

  There was nowhere she could run. If she stepped up, he’d see more of her, and if she turned to run to the back of the wagon, he’d see her backside.

  She straightened and lifted her chin. “Turn around, Mr. Trapper.”

  For a moment he didn’t move. She didn’t think he was breathing. He was simply standing there. His eyes were wide open and looking at her.

  “Turn around,” she demanded.

  “Why?” he whispered. “You’re so beautiful.”

  The man had gone mad. You’d think she was the first woman he’d ever seen in her undergarments.

  She glared at him, and he finally turned away, still smiling.

  Emery climbed up as fast as she could and disappeared inside. Once in the wagon, she dried off with one of the blankets and removed her damp underwear. Then she dressed in her blouse, jacket and skirt, feeling strange with nothing between her skin and her clothes.

  None of the girls seemed to notice. Two and Three had curled up sleeping after their frightening ride, and Four and Five were leaning out the back opening, trying to catch raindrops on their tongues.

  Emery combed out her long hair and braided it, then carefully twisted it into a bun at the base of her neck. Finally, she felt respectable again. It was raining and gloomy when Trapper had seen her. Maybe he hadn’t noticed how her camisole clung to her.

  Maybe if she forgot that one moment he’d forget it too. She’d never mention it, and if he did, she’d say the shadows were playing tricks with what he thought he saw.

  Voices sounded outside. Emery made out Number One’s light laugh and Trapper’s greeting. She slipped into her shoes and moved to the back of the wagon to stand behind Four and Five. She might be in shadows, but she could see the outline of a tall, very thin boy, maybe a year or two older than One. The middle-aged couple behind the boy was smiling and appeared to be tickled to find someone else near.

  “Come on down, ladies, and meet our neighbors in the storm.” Trapper raised his arms and tiny Five jumped into his hug. Four followed. Both the girls stood close to him, and he put his hands on their shoulders.

  Mrs. Miller shook both their hands, but Em noticed they still clung to Trapper’s legs.

  “Like us, it looks like the Millers are trapped here until the storm’s over. Number One, meet their son, Timothy. He noticed our horses and came to see if he could help.” Trapper looked down at the little darlings hiding behind his legs, but his words were directed to the Millers. “We’re playing a game right now. I’ve numbered the girls off by age. These two are the youngest, Four and Five. We’re all explorers looking for Dallas.”

  The couple, standing a few feet away, laughed. They explained that they also had children, so they understood games.

  Trapper looked up at Emery as she neared the edge. He lifted his arms. When she hesitated, he circled her waist and swung her down. He was polite making the introductions, but the light in his blue eyes told her he was thinking of how she’d looked before.

  She thought of yelling at him again, but she doubted he’d noticed the first lecture she’d tried to give him. His eyes had been so focused his ears hadn’t seemed to be working. Plus, if she showed her anger, strangers would notice, maybe even ask questions or try to smooth over the disagreement.

  This was between her and Trapper. What he saw. What she’d shown.

  She slipped her hand around his arm and tried to act like a lady and not a crazy woman running around in her underwear. She didn’t risk saying a word, but Trapper kept the conversation going as he patted her fingers on his arm.

  The Millers were farmers driving two wagons west to land they’d bought sight unseen near Dallas. They had two boys in their teens and two girls about the ages of Four and Five. Four was shy, but Five seemed excited to meet someone her age. Beneath the overhang, the Millers had built a fire and invited Trapper and his girls to a potato soup supper.

  The girls grabbed their blankets and rushed to find a place near the campfire. Emery walked a few feet, then remembered she could add biscuits to the meal. As she hurried back to the wagon, she heard Trapper say, “Go along and get them out of the rain. We’ll be right behind you.”

  He caught up with her just before she reached the wagon. Without a word, he lifted her into the back.

  When she had the basket of biscuits in hand, she stood at the opening. “I can get down myself.”

  “I know you can, but I like lifting you down, Emery.”

  His hands gently circled her waist once more and slowly lowered her to the ground. “You’re so light, one might think you were a kid, but I know different.”

  His words reached her like a thought he hadn’t realized he’d said out loud.

  “What happened in the storm never happened, Trapper. Whatever you think you saw was simply shadows.”

  He was so close she could feel the warmth of him. “I can’t unsee what I saw, Emery, even if I wanted to. Which I don’t.”

  “Stop acting like you’ve never seen a woman in her underwear.”

  “It’s no act. I never have. Not like that, with so little covering your skin you might have been bare. I saw the tips of your . . .”

  “Forget that. If you were a gentleman, you’d forget.”

  “I’m not sure if I died I could forget. The sight of you will probably follow me into heaven. I mean no disrespect, but you’re a hundred times prettier than a painting I saw in a saloon in New Orleans.”

  Emery fought down a laugh. “The way you talk. You’d think you’ve never seen a nude woman in your life.”

  “I’m telling the truth. I haven’t,” he whispered. “Not a live woman. Only paintings.”

  She turned and faced him then. “Never?”

  “Never.”

  She laughed. “Well, I’ve never seen a nude man, but I doubt I’d just stand there and stare if I saw you.”

  “If you want, I’ll strip, and that will make us even.”

  “No. I’m fine. Keep your clothes on. We have a dinner to go to right now. I’ll ask later if I need a viewing.” They both laughed loving this new teasing. Laughter made her less shy and somehow what had happened made her more comfortable when they could joke.

  He offered his hand. “Shall we go, Mrs. Adams?”

  “Yes, Mr. Hawkins.”

  As they walked, he asked, “Why did you take off your clothes in the cold rain?”

  “This black dress is the only one I have. I didn’t want to get it muddy.”

  He didn’t ask another question.

  She finally added, “I didn’t realize how I’d look once the silk got wet.”

  He held a tree branch out of her way. The night was dark, making all the world only shadows. “May I just say that you are beautiful with or without your clothes?”

  “No. Forget what you saw.”

  “Not a chance.”

  Chapter 6

  By the time Trapper and Emery got to the Millers’ campfire, the half-frozen kids had thawed out and were laughing and talking as if they’d known one another for years.

  There was enough supper for everyone and the biscuits were all gone by the time the basket made the second circle around the fire.

  Trapper sat next to Emery on a bench. The night was still stormy, with the roll of thunder far away and an occasional flash of lightning brightening the sky.

  For some reason tonight he wanted to protect her. Not just because he’d seen her body, but because the lady only had one dress. She’d taken off her black dress so she could help him. She must have been freezing out there.

  What woman doesn’t pack a change of clothes?

  A very poor one, he decided, or one running with no time to pack. If that was the case, what was she running from?

  She was a beautiful mystery. He’d never forget how she looked standing in the rain. She was a rare work of art now hidden awa
y in mourning black.

  He braced his arm behind her so she could lean back. Now and then their legs brushed. Nothing anyone would notice, but something both were very much aware of doing. For the first time, he’d found a woman who was as alone as he was.

  During the war there was no time to court and when it was over no woman would have looked at him twice.

  While trying to keep up with the conversation, Trapper attempted to understand what had happened between them in the storm. First, he’d seen her naked, or almost. He told himself that she shouldn’t be too upset. She was the one who took off her clothes.

  When he was honest and told her she was beautiful, she got mad. Then she told him she’d never seen a naked man. How was that possible? She was a widow. Surely she’d noticed her husband walking by now and then.

  Maybe he was shy and they only did it in the dark. But then the husband would have missed seeing her body so nicely rounded in all the right places.

  To top off Trapper’s confusion, she seemed to think this whole thing was his fault. All he’d done was stand in the rain and look.

  She’d told him to forget about what he saw, but that would take a shotgun blast to the head.

  He decided he’d try forgetting one part of her at a time. Those round breasts, just right for his hands to hold. Her hips, so nicely curved. Her waist so tiny. He’d lifted her and never guessed how small it was. And, her legs with the thin material hiding nothing.

  This wasn’t working, he decided. Maybe he should start with her toes. They were muddy. They’d be easy to forget. In fact, he didn’t even remember them now. Maybe this was working.

  No. He hadn’t even looked down to her toes. There were too many other body parts.

  Trapper tried to act normal, but that was impossible. Every time he looked in her direction, he pictured her nude. He thought of how the silk had bunched up between her breasts and how it indented at her belly button.

  Maybe if she’d take off her clothes again, he’d think about her with clothes on, but he doubted she’d go along with the idea.

  As it got darker, Number Five crawled up in his lap. She patted his chest and said, “Night, Tapper,” then went to sleep.

  Trapper saw Number One and the oldest Miller boy walk over near the trees and stand so close to each other they were almost touching. He told himself he’d go stand between them if they got any closer.

  How was it he felt so old one minute and so young the next? When he’d been the Miller boy’s age, he’d been riding through enemy territory with a midnight sky as his only companion. He hadn’t even tried to keep up with what day it was. He figured he had too few days left to worry about it.

  As they walked back to their wagon, Trapper wished he could have some time alone with Emery, but that wasn’t happening. She climbed up in the wagon and helped the girls settle down to sleep. It had been a long day and they were all tired.

  Trapper found enough dry wood to build a fire. With the low-hanging fog, no one would notice the smoke so he felt safe tonight, but he couldn’t sleep. The vision of Emery standing in the rain was now carved on the back wall of his brain.

  At dawn he was grumpy, but the girls didn’t notice. The sun was out and the storm seemed forgotten. Emery wanted to spend the morning washing clothes in the creek and cooking up a few meals. “The girls need a bath,” she said. “We can’t go into town looking this way.”

  Trapper thought they looked fine. All the girls except Emery looked like they’d been rolling in the mud, but that wasn’t unusual to see in little farming towns. He decided to saddle Midnight and ride ahead to make sure there were no problems around the bend. By noon he backtracked to make sure they were not being followed.

  All was clear.

  When he returned, Emery had fish cooking along with a pot of beans. The Millers came to supper and added cobbler to the meal. They talked of living near Dallas.

  Trapper saw the widow yawning a few times and wondered if she’d had as much trouble sleeping as he had. She was in the wagon by the time he waved goodbye to the Millers, so he had no chance of a good-night kiss on the cheek.

  At dawn the next morning, the girls helped him pull the wagon out of the trees and they were once again headed west. The Millers said they’d wait another day, but Trapper feared he’d lost too much time already. His goal was to get the girls home by Christmas, but he feared if more bad weather hit, he might not make it.

  Once they were rolling, the girls were singing in the wagon and Emery was sitting beside him, so he thought he’d try to talk to her. “The girls look good with their hair in braids.”

  She smiled. “All but Eliza.”

  “Eliza. Who is Eliza?” Trapper asked.

  The little widow smiled. “Trapper, you do know they have names.”

  “Of course, but I had it worked out with numbers. Once I hear or see something it sticks in my head.”

  “I’m aware.”

  When he glanced at her Trapper wasn’t surprised to see her blushing.

  He had a feeling one thing was on both their minds.

  She tried to get back to their conversation. “Eliza is Number Three. The one who always wears a cap.” She leaned close and whispered, “You want to know why?”

  “Sure.” He breathed in the scent of Emery. She smelled so good and he still smelled of trail dust and mud.

  “She cut off her hair because she didn’t want to go home. I tried to trim it, but I’m afraid she’ll look more like a boy than a girl for a while if she takes off the hat.”

  “Why didn’t she want to go home?”

  “She says no one sees her there.”

  Trapper had no idea what Emery meant. Not being seen had kept him alive during the war. He felt like he’d gone half his life trying to be invisible.

  When they stopped to make their circle, Trapper pulled farther off the trail than usual. Traffic was picking up. He’d seen two wagons coming from the trading post and a man on horseback rode past about an hour ago.

  As the girls wore off a bit of energy and the horses rested, he rode to where he could see the road. Number Two wanted to follow along. She lifted her hand, so he pulled her up behind him.

  She had done it before, but he’d barely noticed. One of the girls was usually walking close to him or sitting with him when he watched the road or collected wood. It occurred to him that maybe they were watching him or acting as his bodyguard. Who knows, maybe they were his tiny little angels.

  When he knelt behind tall grass, Number Two did the same thing.

  He hadn’t waited long when four men, riding fast, came down the road. They weren’t farmers. They didn’t carry supplies on their saddles. Trapper touched his lips silently, telling Two not to make a sound.

  Trapper had spent years learning to read people. These men were looking for trouble. Maybe running from someone, or riding toward something they wanted bad enough to exhaust their horses to get.

  Who knows, maybe the men were even looking for him. Or worse, the girls. That knowledge felt like ice sliding down his back.

  When the riders were out of sight, he swung Number Two onto Midnight and put his hat on her head. The big hat shadowed her face. “I’ll stay here and watch to make sure they don’t come back.” He put his hand over hers. “You tell Mrs. Adams where I am, then tie Midnight’s reins loosely to the saddle. She’ll come back to me.”

  Two looked frightened.

  “Don’t worry, I won’t let anything happen to you, baby.”

  “Two,” she said straightening. “We like our code names and none of us are babies, not even Five.” Then she was off smiling. She was on a mission.

  Ten minutes later Number One showed up atop Midnight. She was carrying two rifles.

  “Mrs. Adams said you might need these and me.”

  He took the weapons. “Can you shoot?”

  One made a face. “I’m the colonel’s daughter. I can shoot.”

  Trapper had no doubt.

  “So can Two and
Three. The little two will learn in another year.”

  They sat down behind a fallen log and watched the road. After ten minutes of silence One said, “Mrs. Adams wanted me to tell you that we’re all going back to the wagon if you want to wash in the stream when we get back.”

  Trapper scratched his dirty hair. “You think I need to?”

  “Yes. You do. We took a vote and it was unanimous.”

  They waited until sunset and then they rode back to camp. Wherever the four men who’d passed were, they wouldn’t be riding back tonight. Maybe they were headed toward Jefferson. On horseback they’d make double the time he was making with a wagon. The road was more of a winding trail now, too uneven to chance at night.

  His little nest of ladies was safe tonight.

  When he got back, supper was almost ready.

  Trapper handed One the rifles and told her and Two to keep watch while he walked down a slope to where the horses were grazing. The sun was setting, with just enough light to see the towel and soap a foot from the stream. His saddlebags were there also.

  If he was going into town, even though it was probably little more than a trading post and a few huts, he’d clean up. Trapper stripped and dove in. The water was cold, so he didn’t waste any time. In ten minutes he was out of the water, dry, and putting on a clean set of clothes.

  When he sat down by the fire for supper, each one of the girls walked past him and patted him on the shoulder. Number Four even kissed his cheek.

  As they ate, he explained that tonight would be the first night he’d have a watch. After midnight he’d wake One and Two to stand guard while he slept a few hours. Emery said she’d take another two hours. Before dawn he’d take back over.

  He felt they were safe tonight. They were too far from the trail for anyone to see their small fire. If a raid came, it would be after dawn.

  To his surprise the girls asked questions. For them this might still seem like a game, but they wanted to know the rules.

  If danger was coming their way, they needed to know what to do. Where to shoot to stop a man, but not kill him. How to hit a man twice their size and make him drop. How to read an attacker’s movements. All that he’d learned in the army about staying alive poured out. They would have to be his troops if trouble came.