Longing for a Cowboy Christmas

by Leigh Greenwood

  It didn’t take long. She told them she’d see them tomorrow.

  Finally, she had a chance to be alone with Travis. He put another piece of wood in the potbelly stove, then turned and wrapped his arms around her. She laid her cheek against his chest and nuzzled against his leather vest. The scent of the brisk winter air lingered on his clothes.

  “I couldn’t wait for this moment.” She glanced up, mesmerized by the clear blue of his eyes.

  Wanting shimmered, darkening his eyes, making his deep voice raspy. “Lady, I’m going to strip off your clothes and have my way with you.”

  A delicious shiver raced up her spine. She gave a throaty chuckle. “You are, huh? Is that a threat, my love, or a promise?”

  “Oh, that’s definitely a promise.” His voice was low, silky. He crushed her to him, pressing his lips to hers in a kiss that could’ve stripped the barbed wire from ten miles of fence line. The depth of desire sent her senses reeling. She wanted to hang out a sign that said he belonged to her, then take her time in finding the source of the heat and this all-encompassing hunger that flooded over her. She yearned to be the kind of wife that a man like Travis deserved. A man who always saw the good in her and overlooked her shortcomings.

  Her heart pounded against her ribs as she yanked his shirt from his trousers and ran her hands underneath the fabric and over the muscles of his back.

  “Lady, you don’t know what you do to me. You’re nothing but temptation.” He nibbled his way across the seam of her mouth before settling his lips firmly on hers.

  This kiss was raw and deep with passion. Rebel sighed and melted against him, tucking his love around her like a warm blanket. Travis ended the kiss all too soon for her liking.

  She toyed with the ends of his hair. “What if something happens and we can’t marry on Christmas Day?”

  “It won’t.” He winked. “I have faith.”

  “Then I’d best see about a dress.” There was not a second to waste.

  “Not tonight.” He stood, scooped her into his arms, and headed for the bedroom.

  They took their time undressing each other. Then Travis propped himself on one elbow, admiring her willowy curves as she turned down the wick on the lamp.

  Damn, she was a sexy woman!

  “Come here, lady.” He pulled her down beside him and ran his fingers across her silky skin. “I’ve waited a long time for this and wondered if I’d ever see you again. I can’t imagine how hard it was on you with the kids.”

  Her green eyes were large and mysterious. “Let’s not talk about the past. It’s over. Our future is just beginning.”

  “I agree.” He captured her bottom lip lightly with his teeth and sucked it into his mouth, seeming to draw her inside him as well. He wished he could. He could protect her a lot better.

  Rebel slid her hand between their bodies and closed a fist around him. He tensed and fought the reaction that would send him tumbling over the edge before he was ready.

  “You don’t play fair, lady.”

  She laughed. “I know. But you love me anyway.” Her eyes darkened. “You complete me, sweetheart. Without you, I’m half a person.”

  “I’m no good without you either.” He shifted his focus on her generous curves and lavished much attention on her breasts.

  When their bodies were well caressed and they feared the slightest movement would end what they’d had such fun building, he slid inside her tight warmth. The frantic pace he set left Rebel gasping, gripping his back, trying to draw more of him into her.

  As if he held anything back. Travis gave her everything he had, and she took it all.

  Although they’d made love many times in the past, this was different. It seemed like their very first joining.

  He waited, pacing himself, and when Rebel reached for the stars, so did he.

  Together. As things were meant to be.

  Seven

  The next morning, under Ely’s and Jenny’s direction, Travis helped Tobias carry the six-foot-tall calendar and set it up outside the mercantile under the overhang that would protect it from the weather. The heavy piece of wood fit into a sturdy stand Clay had made. They shouldn’t have a problem even if the wind raised holy hell, as it was wont to do sometimes.

  Folks kept interrupting so often to say how happy they were Travis was back until he finally shrugged his shoulders at Tobias and just chatted until they moved on. It was nice to be missed though, and their concern and happiness filled a part of him that had been parched.

  They almost treated him like a celebrity, and he expected a band to come marching by any second. It would certainly fit in with the beautiful ribbons and greenery hanging everywhere.

  Christmas spirit was alive and well in Hope’s Crossing.

  Rebel would have the best one ever, or Travis would bust a gut trying. Lord knows she’d seen far too much disappointment, too many hard times.

  She’d developed a persistent cough during the night which drew concern, but she’d kissed him and said he was making a mountain out of a molehill. Nevertheless, this morning with the onset of fever, he’d insisted on her seeing the town’s doctor, a petite woman named Mary Cuvier. The woman wore a necklace made of bullet fragments she’d dug from her patients. A little odd, if you asked him.

  “Rebel has influenza, and she’s contagious. Best to stay away.”

  Travis had spread his legs in a wide stance. “You’ll have to shoot me first.”

  Dr. Mary shook her head like he was one bullet shy of a box of ammunition, but he’d taken Jenny and Ely back to the Bowdres for now. The kids were scared half out of their minds, but Travis tried to downplay the seriousness, insisting Rebel was only tired.

  Clay wandered by the mercantile as he and Tobias were finishing. “Join me and the men to talk. We want to know how you worked a miracle.”

  While he really wanted to go check on Rebel, he stood with the men at the outdoor firepit and told them about the bounty hunter, the jail, the trial. “I owe my lawyer a huge debt. If he hadn’t come unhinged and shot up the courtroom, I’d probably be in prison or a graveyard now. Those witnesses fled, and the sheriff said they never stopped running.”

  Chuckles went through the group. “Just shows to never give up.” Jack slapped Travis’s back. “Great to have you home.”

  “I want you to hear the news. Rebel and I are going to be married on Christmas Day. You’re all invited.”

  Jack let out a whoop. “You got a good woman in Rebel. She’s done a lot for this town.” He glanced toward home. “Nora’s got some chores for me so I’d best go.”

  “Me too. Congratulations, Travis.” Clay moved toward the corral, and the rest scattered.

  The stage rolled in, and Travis went to meet it. Thank God, Sid Truman was back. Travis introduced himself, then paused to watch the passengers stepping down. One woman glanced at the pretty decorations, her eyes lighting up. Rebel would be pleased.

  Angry voices pulled him from his thoughts. “I had that first!” Billy Truman yelled.

  “No, you didn’t!” Ely screamed back.

  “Give it to me!”

  “Make me,” Ely dared.

  Before Travis could move, the boys were tangled up, fists swinging. “Stop that!” He sprinted for them and arrived on the heels of Sid Truman. Each grabbed a boy and pulled them apart.

  “What’s the meaning of this?” Sid demanded.

  Both boys launched into an argument, and soon they had a ring of kids around them.

  Travis glanced at Sid. “Let’s go someplace quiet to sort this out. It’s past time.”

  “I’m glad I drove the stage in when I did,” Sid said. “Martha’s been telling me about Billy.”

  They grabbed their sons and stalked to the windmill. The boys were sullen and quiet.

  Travis glared. “Start talking, Ely. We’re not leav
ing until you tell me what you’re so all-fired mad at. I don’t care if we have to stay here all night.”

  “Nothing. Nothing’s wrong.”

  “Something is. What’s got you so all-fired mad? Talk.”

  “Billy, you too. Why are you always looking for trouble?” Sid gave his son a shake. “Why? You have a roof over your head and food in your belly. I’m working as hard as I can to make sure you and your brothers have everything you need.”

  Both boys sat there in stony silence, their gazes lowered.

  Finally, Billy spoke. “It’s you, Pa. You’re always gone. It’s like you don’t care about us anymore. You never take me fishing or help me with my sums. You don’t hear Ma crying after we go to bed. Little Jonesy don’t even know you’re his pa. He’s started calling Clay Pa.”

  Sid stared, his face a mask of pain. He pulled Billy up and wrapped his arms around his son. “I’ve never stopped caring. I hate being gone all the time, but I don’t know how else to earn a living.”

  “I fight with Ely because he has what I want,” Billy mumbled. “Miss Rebel loves him, really loves him, and Mr. Travis, too. Heck, they’re always doing things with them.”

  Travis prodded Ely. “What do you have to say? What’s your excuse?”

  Ely glanced up with tears in his eyes, his chin quivering. “My pa threw me and Jenny away like trash, so maybe we are.”

  “Well, you’re not,” Travis said firmly.

  “Pa said we were too much bother and took us to Creedmore. It was dark, and there were big rats everywhere. Those men were real mean, and they didn’t feed us or nothing. Billy said nobody can love us.” Ely wiped his nose on his sleeve. “Sometimes I get real scared and think you and Miss Rebel are going to throw us away, too.”

  “Son, that’s the furthest thing from the truth.” Travis pulled him into a hug. “You and Jenny will always be our children. Forever.”

  Billy sniffed, his eyes filled with tears. “I’m sorry, Ely. I didn’t know.” He reached for Ely’s hand and shook it. “Friends?”

  “Friends.” Ely wiped his hands on his pants. “Want to go back with the others? I’ll make you something.”

  “Sure.”

  Travis watched the two boys race each other. “I think we made a lot of progress.” He glanced at Sid. “I’ve been trying to think of a way for you to stay here.”

  “I ran a café in Tascosa until it burned. That and driving a stagecoach are all I know.”

  A café. That was it. Jack had often bemoaned the fact that Hope’s Crossing had no eating place and that his son, Sawyer, loved to cook.

  “What do you think about us opening one here and letting the children work a few hours each day? It would teach them to work together, and they’d earn a little money. But you’d run it and do the bulk of the work.”

  Sid’s gray eyes lit up. “You know, that sounds like the answer to a prayer. Except I have no money to buy lumber, a cookstove, tables, chairs, dishes, or supplies.”

  “What if we all chip in? And we have lumber left over from the other buildings.”

  “I don’t know what Clay, Jack, and the others will say.”

  “It won’t take long to ask.”

  “Thanks, Travis. I have to find a way to stay home. Martha has too much on her shoulders, and the children need me.”

  Yes, they did for a fact. Travis and Sid went to speak to Clay.

  Clay grinned. “I’ve been thinking of building a café next. We really need one, but I held back because we didn’t have anyone to run it. Love the idea of the kids working a few hours a day if they want. Builds character.”

  “Thank you, Clay.” Sid shook his hand. “I’ll even build it if you’ll feed my family.”

  “Deal.”

  “Let’s go open the first door of the calendar and kick this Advent off.” Travis moved to the wooden apparatus, and folks gathered around. “All right, you’ve all probably heard that Rebel has taken sick and is unable to be here. I ask Mrs. Colby to come up to start this holiday celebration. But first I want to thank Tobias January for building such a calendar on short notice. Tobias, did you sleep the last few days?”

  “Dang little.” The breeze ruffled Tobias’s long, white beard, but his grin was unmistakable.

  “Please give him a round of applause, everyone.” Once the clapping died down, Travis turned the affair over to Tally.

  She opened the little door on December 1st with a flourish and took out the small piece of paper. “Children, Nora and Jack Bowdre are the first to offer treats, so go visit their home.”

  The Truman Ten ran shrieking toward their treat with Jenny in the middle of the pack and the dogs barking and jumping around them. Travis watched, holding his breath for fear she’d get trampled. Jack and Nora’s son, Sawyer, and Ely each got on one side of Violet and led her. Travis smiled, his chest swelling to see Ely making sure the sweet, blind girl was seen to first. The boy’s heart was in the right place.

  His throat tightened at how excited the children were, wishing Rebel could see them. This was her dream, her idea, and she should be here.

  Travis wove through the onlookers and their pats of sympathy to Rebel’s little soddy. Her deep, croupy cough stopped his heart. It sounded even worse than before.

  Belle January came to meet him. “Her fever is raging, and she can’t breathe. I’ve seen this before, and unless we do something, she might die.”

  Over his dead body.

  He jerked off his coat and strode to the bed. If he hadn’t known who lay there, he wouldn’t have recognized her. He sat on the bed and gathered her in his arms, pulling the quilt tight around her. Chills racked her body.

  “I’m so cold,” she said weakly. “Please get me w-warm.”

  “You got it.” He laid her down and reached for another heavy quilt, tucking it close to hold in the heat. She couldn’t stop shaking and coughing.

  The door opened, and the tinkling of Dr. Mary’s necklace preceded her. She carried a bucket of water and cloths. “You shouldn’t be here, Travis.”

  He glared up. “I’m not leaving. Shoot me, and at least you’ll have another bullet for your necklace there.”

  The doctor glared. “You’re an ornery cuss. You know that? Move over. I need to bathe her in cold water and try to get that fever down.”

  Travis settled Rebel back on the pillow and took the water and cloths from the doctor. “Whatever needs doing, I’ll do. Rebel is my whole life, and I aim to get her well. We will be married on Christmas Day.”

  Dr. Mary exhaled loudly. “I hate to burst your bubble, but it’s not going to happen.”

  “I have faith it will. I’ll call if I need you or there’s a change. You and Belle have other things to do.” Travis took a soft cloth and dipped it in the water as the door of the soddy softly closed.

  He talked to Rebel as he bathed her face, neck, and arms. “I never told you about the time I got cornered by a pack of coyotes and stayed awake fighting them off one night. I knew if I went to sleep, they’d tear into me and my horse.”

  Although she didn’t speak, her sunken eyes followed his every movement. He recounted other tales, and she slept. He removed the quilts and her nightgown and kept bathing her while the hours passed, blending together into a patchwork quilt of time where squares met and lives crossed in this desperate struggle to save the woman who filled his dreams and gave him hope. She was his future, just as the children were the future of the town.

  If Rebel died, so would he.

  The next few days passed in a blur. He got Rebel to drink many cups of hot tea laced with whiskey and honey and continued the cold baths against her protests. He finally pulled the quilts over her and let her sleep a while.

  Belle brought a hot dinner of potatoes and fried rabbit, and they talked while Travis ate.

  “We had influenza sweep through Tasco
sa a few years back,” Belle said. “It was bad. That’s why the doctor wants to keep this contained. We can’t afford an epidemic here with the town still so young. But we do have two more cases.”

  “How are they doing?”

  “They’re not as sick as Rebel and should be fine in a week or so.”

  “Good. Rebel is the woman I’m going to marry, and I won’t leave her.” His voice trembled, and he turned away.

  Belle laid a wrinkled, gnarled hand on his arm. “Love is a powerful thing. Tobias and I have been married for fifty-three years. Treasure the time you have with Rebel.”

  “Everyone keeps saying she won’t make it, but she will. I have faith. I’m only an outlaw, but some things a man knows deep in his heart.”

  And this was one of them. Rebel was going to marry him in whatever dress they could find, and they were going to make a good home for Ely and Jenny. Mark his words.

  Rebel had a coughing fit, interrupting their conversation. By the time Travis got to her, she’d lost her breath. He wiped the thick mucus from her chin and placed a wet cloth on her forehead. She coughed until she couldn’t get air into her lungs.

  The closing door told him Belle had left. Travis pulled Rebel up and rubbed her back. Her fever had returned. She railed, out of her head, her eyes glassy, calling him a name that made him cringe. He reminded himself that she didn’t know what she was saying.

  Something his mother had done a long time ago crossed his mind. He laid Rebel back down and hurried to the small kitchen area, yanking open drawers and boxes until he found the mustard. He mixed it with a little water until it formed a thick paste, then spread it on two of the clean, heated cloths.

  By the time he got back to the bed, Rebel had fallen into a deep sleep. Or maybe it was unconsciousness. She didn’t open her eyes when he sat her up and wrapped the mustard plaster around her back and chest.

  Deep coughs continued to rack her body over the next few hours. Those and moans were the only signs she was alive.

  Dr. Mary returned that night. She approved of the mustard plaster and asked him why he thought of it.

  “My mother made these when I was a boy. I used to hate when she put them on me, but I loved the result.”