A Cowboy for Christmas (Mills & Boon Love Inspired Historical) (Wyoming Legacy - Book 5)

by Lacy Williams

  Seconds later, everyone stood, the congregational singing focusing everyone on what they’d come to do—worship.

  She was intensely aware of Ricky’s presence next to her. He couldn’t carry a tune. When she couldn’t suppress the twitch of her lips, interrupting her own singing of the verse, he looked down at her, his own eyes shining with mirth. He shrugged.

  The preacher asked them all to sit for his sermon. Though they were at a respectable distance, several inches separating them, she dearly wanted to reach across and take Ricky’s hand.

  She didn’t dare. She didn’t want to cause any kind of scandal in Sunday services.

  She hoped that her presence next to him was enough.

  She’d made her choice. She would always stand beside him, this man she was coming to...love?

  The thought hit her in the solar plexus, a silent cannonball exploding. How had this happened? After the accident that had taken her arm, she’d thought she would never find anyone who would accept her as she was.

  But then the cowboy beside her had barged into her life and turned everything upside down. He’d made her see herself differently. Made her believe in herself again.

  Showed her the man he was, that he wasn’t afraid to fight for what he believed in. And he believed in her.

  She must’ve made some kind of noise, or maybe her breathing changed pace, because he looked down at her, his blond head bending, eyes silently asking if she was all right.

  She could only nod, the force of the realization leaving her breathless.

  *

  After the service concluded, Daisy remained at Ricky’s side. She saw Papa’s frown directed at her, but Audra spoke to him and neither came after her.

  She wasn’t a child anymore. She could make her own decisions. And Papa hadn’t forbidden her from being Ricky’s friend.

  She greeted some folks she’d known since childhood, introducing the cowboy as one of her papa’s hands and a friend.

  And they all knew. That she was sweet on him, belonged with him. Maybe Papa would be angry, but that was a problem for later.

  Having him beside her eased her when the inevitable questions and pitying looks came. Folks asking about her arm and how she was faring. Well-intentioned, but it was still hard to talk about.

  Ricky’s casual hand on her lower back was the support she needed, silent but present. She felt a little silly that she’d waited so long to come back. This wasn’t so bad, after all.

  When the crowd had trickled down to stragglers as everyone went home for their Sunday suppers, Ricky was distracted by Audra’s twins and Daisy made her way to Ethel and Harry, in a nearby quieter corner, near the open back doors.

  Ethel embraced her while Harry held the swaddled baby.

  “I’m glad to see you out,” Ethel said, releasing Daisy but holding on to her shoulders. “I thought, after the social, that you might become a hermit again.”

  Daisy laughed, feeling freer than she had in a long time. “As if Audra would let me. Once I stepped foot out of the house, I thought she might bar the door to keep me out.”

  Ethel raised her brows. “How are things going with your new stepmother?”

  “Fine. She’s fine.”

  Daisy sent a glance over her shoulder to where Ricky stood, still in conversation with the boys.

  “And I don’t have to ask how things are going with your cowboy. I can see it on your face.”

  “Oh, Ethel,” Daisy breathed, unable to contain the emotion oozing from every pore. “He’s...”

  She couldn’t go on, but a happy, high-pitched noise escaped her throat and Ethel was laughing and clasping her hand.

  “I’m happy for you. After all that’s happened, I’m glad that you can find a way past what he did. You deserve to be happy, and if it’s with him, then I’ll be pleased for you.”

  Daisy hadn’t heard anything past what he did. “What do you mean?” she demanded softly of her friend.

  Harry and Ethel exchanged a loaded glance before Ethel whispered, “You know. The accident. Your arm.”

  Daisy went still, her lungs seizing tight. She shook her head, trying to convey to her friend that she didn’t understand what was meant.

  Ethel’s face creased in concern and she glanced at Harry again briefly before going on. “Harry saw him that night. Your cowboy.”

  Daisy’s breath caught painfully. She remembered the terror of that night. The screams of the horses, her own panic as the wagon had flipped and the blinding pain...

  She hated to think that Ricky had seen her like that. Weak and hurt and probably screaming.

  “I knew he was there,” she whispered. She’d seen the scar on the back of his wrist.

  “He caused it.” Harry’s simple, plain-spoken statement left no room for doubt.

  Daisy went hot and then cold. The walls around her seemed to swell in from their moorings until she felt constricted, unable to catch her breath.

  No.

  It couldn’t be true.

  She had to know—from him.

  She half turned and he was there, frozen only a few feet away. His face was guilt-stricken, eyes pleading with her for understanding or forgiveness or she didn’t even know what.

  He must’ve heard the whole thing.

  And she knew.

  It was true.

  Thankfully, Audra swept in before Daisy could make a fool of herself in front of the folks remaining in the sanctuary. “Daisy, it’s time to go.”

  She would never know if Audra had overheard their conversation or just recognized that Daisy was incapable of even moving, but she took Daisy’s arm and swept her up the aisle and out of the country church, leaving behind the man Daisy had thought would be her future.

  *

  Ricky followed Daisy’s family out of the church, unable to stop himself from watching as she allowed herself to be boosted into the wagon box and settled between Belinda and the twins. His heart thundered in his head, and he desperately wanted to call out after her, but didn’t dare.

  She didn’t look back at him once.

  His entire world was crashing down around him. The elation he’d felt when she’d stood up out of her family’s church pew and joined him had had no equal. He’d been thinking that surely there was some way to win over her pa, some way to prove he could be worthy of Daisy.

  Now it was too late.

  This was all his fault. He should’ve told her sooner.

  Part of him wanted to hop on his horse and chase after her and demand she listen to him.

  But the hurt that had filled her eyes unmanned him, made him unsure what was the right course of action.

  He loved her. He knew it like the sky was blue.

  He had to make this right. Somehow.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Numb, Daisy sat in the parlor, watching the fire in the hearth while Audra and her father conversed in low tones across the room. The flickering fire didn’t warm her, not at all. She felt frozen inside.

  They’d only been home a few minutes, and Belinda had ushered the twins away quickly to help prepare lunch.

  Ha.

  Audra hadn’t wasted time, but quickly filled Papa in on the tail end of the conversation she’d overheard in the church. Daisy was grateful—so grateful—Audra hadn’t overheard the beginning. She didn’t know the depths of Daisy’s feelings for the cowhand.

  Papa shook his head, face grave. “This is exactly why I didn’t want him around her. I didn’t want Daisy getting hurt.”

  “How could you hire him on?”

  “He claimed he’d reformed, that he wanted to make restitution. And she deserved help after missing her arm—”

  It took a moment for her papa’s words to register, and Audra was in the middle of saying something when Daisy interrupted. “Wait—”

  Her break from the silence she’d held on the wagon ride home brought both of their gazes to her.

  Her voice trembled as she asked, “You knew that his brawling caused the
accident?”

  The guilt on her papa’s face was enough proof to guess the truth.

  “How could you keep it from me?” she gasped. He’d had the perfect opportunity to tell her, when she’d confronted him about why he wouldn’t allow Ricky to come courting.

  Her papa’s betrayal was almost worse than Ricky’s. Almost.

  And then there was a knock on the back door.

  Audra shot a look at Daisy’s papa, and he nodded once, grimly.

  From her perch on the parlor sofa, Daisy could see through the hall and part of the doorway into the kitchen and watched as her stepmother answered the door and Ricky followed her through both until he’d joined them in the parlor.

  He held his hat between his hands, clearly nervous. He glanced at her papa once, but other than that his eyes remained on Daisy.

  She couldn’t hold his gaze, couldn’t bear it. She looked away, into the fire again.

  “I’d like to talk to Daisy for a minute. Alone.”

  “I don’t think so, young man,” Papa said.

  “Please.” She heard clearly the emotion in the roughness of his voice.

  “That’s not necessary.” She was surprised she could get the words out, surprised by the cool tone in her voice when she wished she was upstairs and could vent her sorrows into her pillow. It helped that she didn’t look at him. “We’ve nothing left to say to each other.”

  His boot scraped on the plank floor and she sensed him take a step closer to her.

  “I have some things to say.” His voice was low and rough, he sounded as upset as he’d been the other day down at the creek. “I’ll say them in front of your pa, if you want, but I aim to get them out.”

  She didn’t know what was worse—Ricky’s demand to talk to her or having her papa and Audra overhear it.

  She sent a panicked look in her parents’ direction. Surprisingly, it was Audra who said, “We’ll give you a few minutes. No more.”

  Her heart pounded in her ears as they vacated the room and left her with Ricky.

  Her eyes flicked to him of their own accord, then away, back to the fire. His shoulders were slumped, as if he knew she’d already decided against him.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “You have no idea how sorry. That night, I was drunk—”

  She shook her head against the distorted images of the accident. She remembered sitting in the wagon. The feeling of falling, the crushing weight of the wagon pinning her to the ground—

  “I don’t want to talk about that night,” she blurted.

  He moved. She saw the movement from the corner of her eye and couldn’t resist a slight turn of her head. He ran a hand anxiously through his hair.

  “If I could take it back, I would—that whole night...my whole life.” He laughed, but there was no humor in it.

  In her mind’s eye, she saw again the dark shadows of two men stumbling in the street, smashing punches into each other—one shouting—the horses had jumped in their traces—

  She stood up, more to escape the memories than anything else, but she put distance between them and went to the window, looking out over the pasture.

  “I should’ve told you sooner. I wanted to. I’ve been trying to—”

  Yes. Then she wouldn’t have fallen in love with him. How could she have fallen in love with the man who had caused the loss of her arm?

  “I was afraid if you knew, it would change things between us,” he said softly.

  Because...

  She whirled to face him. “You pitied me! The entire time. I thought—”

  He flinched. From her words or her tone, she didn’t know.

  She’d thought he’d honestly cared about her. Had wanted to be her friend.

  “All this time while you were helping me—finding ways to make my life easier...it was all out of guilt, wasn’t it?”

  “No.” He cleared his throat. “No, it wasn’t.”

  She wanted to believe his sincerity, the depth of the pain on his features, but she couldn’t, not now. How could she trust him?

  “It was all lies, wasn’t it?” she demanded.

  “No. My feelings for you—”

  She couldn’t bear for him to finish. “Stop.” She held up her hand in front of herself, trying to protect herself from the damage his words would do.

  *

  Ricky wanted to reach for her.

  He ached to reach for her.

  Of its own accord, one of his hands moved, twitching away from gripping his hat. He stopped the motion, knowing how useless it was. He swallowed hard.

  She wasn’t interested in his apology. Didn’t want to hear it or even hear him out.

  But he had to know...

  “The other day, you said that you saw more than my past. That night was in my past,” he explained. “It happened so fast, I couldn’t stop it.”

  He’d had blood on his hands, her blood. He’d raced against the fire, working with several other men to lift the wagon off her, but it had been too late to save her arm, just as it had been too late to save the woman from his childhood.

  Her face went completely white at his words, as if all the blood had drained to her feet.

  “Get out.” At first she just mouthed the words, but then stronger, louder, “Get out.”

  “Daisy, please—”

  She shook her head, eyes filling with tears. He wanted to go to her, hold her—

  He wanted for none of this to happen. How could he have messed up so badly?

  “I think you’d better go.” The soft statement from behind him preceded Audra’s entrance through the hallway. She went to her stepdaughter.

  Ricky turned, unsure if he should stay or go. Deeper in the hallway, he could see the boss standing in the shadows. Daisy had been angry with her pa, too, for keeping Ricky’s identity from her.

  Who would comfort her now? He knew she didn’t always see eye to eye with her stepmother, and that sister of hers could be flighty.

  He looked over his shoulder once as he exited the parlor and trudged through the kitchen. Audra had put her arms around Daisy, who was still white-faced and tearful.

  He didn’t want to leave. He wanted her forgiveness.

  But he knew he didn’t deserve it.

  God had forgiven him. Beau had told him that much, and he’d read it himself in the Good Book. But he didn’t feel forgiven, not with the hurt his actions still carried for Daisy.

  Chapter Eighteen

  It was after dark when Ricky returned from a bracing ride in the cold air. He walked his horse up to the barn, noting the dim light from a single lantern left on a hook. Beau must’ve left it lit for him.

  He had played hooky from his afternoon chores. He’d spent some time sitting on his bunk, head in his hands, mind running over and over the events of the afternoon. What could he have done, what could he have said to convince Daisy that he cared about her?

  Sure, his guilt had been the driving force behind his actions initially, but he’d gotten to know her, found that he liked her. That was all real.

  He couldn’t forget the abject terror on her face, the harsh lines of her pain, the tears in her eyes. He’d done that to her.

  He’d just as good as taken her arm. His brawling had spooked the horses attached to her wagon. They’d bolted, and without anyone controlling them, the wagon had overturned. A lantern had been tied to it, and smashed, the fuel splashing across the overturned conveyance and lighting the entire thing on fire.

  In the melee, the wagon tongue had snapped and the horses ran loose.

  Somehow, he and two other men had lifted it enough to drag Daisy free. She hadn’t died, not like the unknown woman from his childhood that Ricky hadn’t been able to save.

  But she was still lost to him.

  He’d gone for a ride as evening had fallen, wanting to avoid Ned and Beau and hoping to clear his head.

  What would Jonas do? His pa was like Beau, had a kind and compassionate heart.

  Ricky couldn’t help thinki
ng that it would be better to leave. He hated the thought of causing Daisy more pain. She’d started to heal. She’d learned she could still do the things she had before. She would learn to do the rest. Her family was there to support her.

  She could even find someone to fall in love with, if she opened her heart.

  That thought was an arrow straight to his heart as he brushed down his horse and settled the animal into its stall. He carried the lantern with him as he climbed to the loft, using his hat to shield as much of its light as he could to find his way to his bunk.

  He banged his knee hard against a corner of the bunk. He bit back a cry at the sharp pain, but it was nothing compared to the deeper anguish reverberating through him since the afternoon.

  Ned sawed logs in the corner, always an early-to-bed, early-to-rise man. But Beau shifted in his cot.

  “You all right?” the other cowboy whispered.

  No. No, he wasn’t all right. And he never would be, not without Daisy in his life.

  “Go back to sleep,” he whispered back.

  He took off his boots and sat down on his cot, resting his elbows on his knees and running both hands into his hair, gripping the back of his head painfully.

  How had he let this happen? He’d never fallen in love before. Never gotten close enough to a woman to even think about it.

  Because he’d been afraid of this. That his past would come between them. Of course it had. He’d done so many unforgivable things.

  She would be better off without him. He knew it.

  He reached beneath his bunk, past his boots and the extra pair of clothes he kept folded there. All the way to the back, to his satchel. He stuffed the extra clothes in, felt around at the foot of his bunk for the extra blanket folded there. He couldn’t see in the dark.

  “What’re you doing?” Beau whispered.

  “Packing,” came Ricky’s terse reply.

  Ned grunted. His blanket rustled, but the old man slept on after resettling.

  Ricky heard the strike of a match, and there was a flare of light. He squinted against the brightness in the dark room. Beau held a different lantern, shielded it with his blanket so only the other cowboy’s face and shoulders were visible, and Ned’s bunk remained in darkness.