Longing for a Cowboy Christmas

by Leigh Greenwood

  The doctor tsked him. “I pity your poor mother. She had her hands full with you.”

  “You said a mouthful. She’s gone now, but I still hear her on occasion.”

  “I don’t think I ever asked about your family.”

  Travis abruptly turned. “I should check on Rebel. What else do I need to be doing?”

  “Praying.”

  “I’m doing that, Doctor.” Or as much as he knew how. He’d never been a churchgoer.

  Rebel was asleep again. Deciding it was time to take advantage of the small break, he swung around. “Would you mind staying for a little while, Dr. Mary? There’s something I need to do.”

  “I’ll be glad to. Just be sure to not touch anyone while you’re out.”

  With a nod, Travis opened the trunk at the foot of the bed and pulled out the yards of red lace, then got Rebel’s Sunday dress of rich purple. Putting on his coat, hat, and gloves, he went out into the cold.

  Light snow fell, and the Christmas streamers decorating the town looked like children’s forgotten playthings, fluttering and twisting in the slight breeze. The mistletoe caught his eye. What he wouldn’t give to catch Rebel underneath a clump and kiss the daylights out of her.

  His heart aching, he shook himself and went about his business, soon knocking on Nora’s door.

  She opened it, smiling. “Travis, come in. How is Rebel?”

  “I really just have a moment. She’s very sick, and I don’t want to leave her alone too long.” He held out the dress and lace. “Would you spruce this up for our wedding? I want to surprise her. She worried about having something nice.”

  Nora gently touched his arm. “I’ll do anything for her. Tally too. But Eleanor dropped by during the night and left Rebel’s red satin fabric on my porch with a note that said we should make her a wedding dress from it.”

  “Eleanor Crump?” He remembered how skittish the woman was around people and how pitiful she looked with her wild hair. “How did she get the material?”

  “Rebel gave it to her as a gift. She cares a lot for Eleanor.”

  That’s how special his lady was. No one had a bigger heart.

  “I’m happy to hear about that.” He glanced at the purple dress. “It wouldn’t have worked, but it was the best option I had at the time.”

  “No, it wouldn’t have. Tally and I will make a wedding dress and put the red lace on it. We know Rebel’s style. I’ll keep this one, though, for her measurements. But are you sure the wedding will happen this soon?”

  “We’re going to be married on Christmas Day. I have faith, you see.”

  And he wanted Rebel to be prepared for the wedding in case she didn’t have time enough when she recovered.

  Eight

  In the passing week, excitement over Advent pervaded the small town. Children were smiling and happy with nary a cross word. Sid began work on the café, with the men helping when they could. Friends constantly stopped by Rebel’s soddy to leave food, inquire about her, and tell Travis how much of a difference her idea made to the holiday season. He always met them at the door with something covering his mouth like the doctor had said. A warm glow filled him at the thought that her need for a Christmas like she used to celebrate had spawned all this in a town filled with outlaws.

  That morning, Rebel had the worst coughing fit she’d ever had, coughing up green phlegm until she couldn’t catch her breath. The loud wheezing scared Travis. He held her in his arms, wishing he could take her place. He was strong and healthy and could fight harder.

  Frustrated, he released a string of silent curses and tenderly wiped her mouth.

  She looked at him through sunken eyes, her voice faint. “I’m not going to make it, Travis. Let me go.”

  Shock raced through him, her words freezing his blood. “I can’t. I can do anything but that. You’re going to get well, and we’ll have our wedding. I believe that with all my heart.”

  “Shhh, listen.” Rebel fought for air to speak. Finally she went on. “Promise to raise Ely and Jenny. Change their names to Lassiter, be the father they want.” Coughs, deep and terrifying, sprang from her.

  Travis held her close, rubbing her back, watching her face turn blue, unable to do a damn thing.

  When Rebel could speak, she whispered, “Don’t let those children grow up unloved and unwanted. Promise.”

  How could he think of doing anything—much less living—without the woman he loved? His heart was shattering.

  After a sleepless night sitting by Rebel’s side, watching the rise and fall of her chest, fearing the next breath would be her last, Travis opened the door the next morning to find Ely and Jenny. “Hey there. I wish I could hug you, but Dr. Mary is very strict.”

  “How is Miss Rebel?” Ely asked. “Does she ask about us?”

  Travis couldn’t tell him that she rarely woke and was getting weaker by the minute. She’d eaten very little and had lost so much weight that her cheeks were sunken, her cough constant. No, he couldn’t worry these kids.

  “Miss Rebel is going to be just fine. Wait and see. She asks me all the time how you’re doing and if you’re minding the Bowdres.”

  “They’re real nice, but they’re not you and Miss Rebel.” Jenny sighed. “I’m lonely. Ely goes off with Sawyer playing, and I just have my doll or baby Willow. Even Violet is too busy.”

  Sadness dimmed the four-year-old’s bright eyes and brought tightness to Travis’s chest.

  “Honey, you’re outnumbered, but there’s nothing anyone can do about that. Ely, can you pay more attention to your sister?”

  “I’ll try, but Jenny isn’t as much fun as Sawyer. He knows how to make traps and fishing lures and everything.”

  After a little more conversation, they left, and Travis went to make another mustard plaster and tempt Rebel with a bite of milk toast.

  But despite everything that kept him busy, her words echoed in his head.

  I’m not going to make it, Travis. Please let me go.

  How was he supposed to do that? And where to begin?

  No, she had to live. That’s all there was to it. He’d accept nothing else.

  Tally appeared at the door to ask about Rebel and leave some soup.

  He stood for a moment, trying to get the woman’s words to make sense in his brain. Finally, he managed a smile. “We’re taking this a minute at a time.”

  “The dress is coming along well, and I think Rebel will be pleased. The fabric and lace are just so beautiful.” Tears welled in Tally’s eyes. “I pray she makes it. Rebel is the dearest friend I have. She was supposed to hand out treats to the children on Sunday, but I’ll take her day.”

  “Thank you. I’ll tell her you called, but I won’t mention the dress. That’s our secret.”

  Another week passed, and with each day Rebel got weaker and weaker.

  She seemed to be waiting on his blessing to die. Selfish bastard that he was, he couldn’t give that.

  Outside the door, he often heard the children laughing and playing, and one night, Dallas Hawk brought his fiddle and played soft Christmas music in front of the house. Travis sat in the dark, in despair with his head in his hands, more alone than he’d ever been in his life.

  The good news was that he’d heard the other two with influenza had recovered, for which he gave thanks. But still his angel showed no sign of turning the corner.

  A week later, Dr. Mary came in the evening to check on her patient. Rebel struggled to breathe even in her sleep, her mouth gaping open. The fever had dried and cracked her lips. The doctor put an ointment on them and gave it to Travis to continue.

  He watched her check Rebel’s feet, saw her lips set in a tight line and the hopelessness in her eyes. “What is it, Doctor?”

  “Signs. Travis, I don’t think you’re going to get your wedding.” Her voice was soft and held a quality he
’d never heard before.

  A hand seemed to reach inside his chest and squeeze his heart. “No, she’s going to live.”

  “I’ll send the pastor. You need someone to talk to.”

  Anger sharpened his tone. “Keep him away. I don’t have time for naysayers. I’ll have to ask you to leave now.”

  Sadness dripped from her face. “I wish I could give you what you want. If you need me…” She went to the door and out into the night.

  After Doc Mary left, Travis lifted Rebel’s weak, almost lifeless form inside her quilts and carried her to the sofa. He sat down, holding her tight. He smoothed back her hair and kissed her cracked lips. Her heart was barely beating. His eyes filled with tears.

  “I fell in love the first time I saw you dancing on the table in that saloon in Cimarron. You were the most exciting, flashy woman I’d ever seen, and I couldn’t take my eyes off you. I knew what you did for a living, but it didn’t make one bit of difference.” His voice broke, and he had to stop for several long moments.

  After gathering himself, he went on. “I noticed the caring and compassion inside you. I once saw you take food to a woman and children living in a hovel. And you spent several days at a miner’s bedside, nursing him back to health. You hid that compassion from others, but I saw the real woman you were beneath the face paint and too-bright smile.

  “I wish I could let you go, but I just can’t.” He broke down in heaving sobs, burying his face in her dark hair. “I love you too much.”

  The clock on the mantel ticked loudly, and the snow whispered against the windowpane.

  Everything was continuing as normal—except Travis’s heart.

  “I never told you about my life. I had a brother named Mason. He was eaten up with greed, always wanting what other people had. It came to a point when he started taking whatever he wanted and shooting anyone who objected. I began going along to try to keep him out of trouble, but he kept dragging me deeper and deeper into his mess. One day, Mason tried to rob the bank and got shot for his trouble. I whirled and killed the bank guard on pure instinct, and that’s how it all started. That incident put me on the run.”

  Travis stopped to check if she was still breathing and found it barely noticeable.

  “I’ll do my best with the children, but I’ll make a piss-poor father. I’m nothing but an outlaw, a man who’s killed, and the only softness I know is what you taught me. I need you, darlin’. How I’ll survive without you, I haven’t a clue.”

  He could draw and shoot in the blink of an eye, but he didn’t know how to live without the woman who’d seen the man he wanted to become.

  * * *

  Travis sat holding her long past midnight and finally dozed off. He woke to sunlight streaming through the window. His arm was numb, but it matched the rest of him. Rebel’s eyes were closed, and her breathing didn’t seem as labored. But that was only wishful thinking.

  He didn’t know what day it was, but the church bell tolling was a clue that it was Sunday. They’d light another Advent candle. By his estimation, it would be the fourth. Christmas was a week away—his and Rebel’s wedding day.

  Letting out a sigh, he carried Rebel to the bed and covered her. Then he put on a fresh shirt that Belle had brought.

  A knock came at the door. Dr. Mary stood smoking her pipe. “I wanted to check on our patient. Hope I’m not too early.”

  “Not at all. In fact, if you could stay with her for a bit, I’d appreciate it. I have something to take care of.”

  The doctor tamped out her pipe and left it on the stoop. “Don’t ever smoke, Travis.”

  “Don’t intend to.” He reached for his hat and hurried out, thankful for the wide brim that shielded his eyes against the glare of the snow and the sunlight bouncing off it. His boots crunched, making a loud sound. He’d lived in the silence of the soddy for what seemed like forever, so the smallest noise seemed jarring.

  “Mr. Travis!” Jenny saw him and came running. “Can you come to church?”

  “As a matter of fact, that’s exactly where I was going.” Travis glanced at Ely. “You got a haircut. Looks good.”

  The boy grinned. “Thanks. Mrs. Bowdre cut it.”

  They walked to the church, and Travis left them in a pew to speak to the reverend. “I promised Rebel I’d change the children’s last name to Lassiter. Can you tell me what’s involved?”

  Pastor Paul’s eyes twinkled through his spectacles, and his wavy hair was neatly combed. His white clerical collar was a little askew as though rebellious. “I’ve heard their story—their father gave up his rights. Until you can draw up legal documents, I’ll perform a ceremony in front of the congregation. I do think it will give the children a sense of belonging.”

  Travis held his hat with both hands. “Can you do it today?”

  “I’ll be happy to. How is Rebel?”

  Travis inhaled a shaky breath. “Not much change. Just a matter of time, according to the doctor.” And then his world would crash around him, and he didn’t know how he’d go on without the woman who’d seen the best in him.

  The reverend rested a palm on Travis’s arm. “I’ll keep her in my prayers.”

  The service commenced, and the fourth candle of Advent was lit. Following the singing, Pastor Paul went to the pulpit. “Today is a special time for two children who have been buffeted by uncertainty and sorrow. We’re going to have a little ceremony for Jenny and Ely Carver to give them the permanence and stability they need in their lives. Will Travis and the children come forward?”

  Ely glanced at Travis in wonder. “Is this going to make us yours?”

  “Yes. You and Jenny will officially belong to me—and Miss Rebel. You’ll be ours.”

  Pastor Paul faced them. “Is it true you wish to take the last name of Lassiter?”

  “Yes!” Ely answered.

  Jenny wiped her eyes. “Uh-huh!”

  Everyone laughed at their enthusiasm.

  Pastor Paul asked Travis to take the children’s hands. “Do you promise to care for and love Ely and Jenny and help them grow into a strong man and woman?”

  Travis pledged his love and support. Then the reverend turned to the children and asked, “Do you promise to obey and love your new father?” He glanced at Travis, who nodded, then added, “And mother.”

  More yeses followed.

  “I pronounce you Ely Lassiter and Jenny Lassiter forever and always.”

  The kids turned and hurled themselves into Travis’s arms.

  “Can we call you Papa now?” Ely asked.

  Tears filled Travis’s eyes. “Absolutely.”

  The lost children had been found, and this Christmas had become full of wonder and security for them. Travis just wished Rebel could’ve been there.

  After church, he stood with his son and daughter, getting in a little more conversation, when Billy Truman sprinted to the crowd, announcing that his mother was about to have her baby.

  “I wonder if it’ll be a girl.” Ely sighed. “If it is, she’d better be tough.”

  Jenny hopped up and down, flicking her hands. “A real baby that cries and everything.”

  “Imagine that.” Travis picked her up and gave her a long hug. “I need to go see about your new mama.”

  “Tell her about the baby.” Jenny kissed his cheek.

  “I will, honey.” If she woke up. He’d done what Rebel had asked.

  The excitement was over. As the siblings walked toward the Bowdres’ house, Travis turned to look at them, his throat tightening. He now had a son and a daughter.

  If Rebel would only fight hard to come back to him and the children, he’d be complete.

  Nine

  Rebel opened her eyes and took in familiar surroundings. Her fever, her aches were gone, and her head was clear. She lifted a feeble hand that seemed to weigh a ton and laid it over
her eyes.

  What day was it? How long had she been sick?

  A man—Travis, she thought, squinting—was rattling around in the kitchen. One thing about a soddy…all the rooms were together. She tried to call to him but couldn’t make a sound. She was so tired, but she didn’t want to sleep until she’d asked some questions.

  At last, he finally came closer to her bed, and she took in the sight she’d never expected to see again. The cleft in Travis’s chin appeared deeper, his eyes bluer.

  When he saw her staring, he did a double take, then hurried to her side. “You’re awake. You’re really awake. I’m not dreaming, am I?”

  Rebel worked her tongue and got out one word. “Water.”

  A big grin stretched across his face. He strode to the kitchen in that long, smooth way of his and returned. He gently lifted her and held the cup to her mouth. “Sleeping Beauty, you sure know how to worry a man. I have a lot to tell you.”

  The cold water soothed her parched mouth and throat. It was as though she sipped from a mountain stream. She drank her fill and lay back on the pillow. “How long have I been sick?”

  “Three weeks all together, but lingering near death’s door for seven days.” The bed sagged when he sat down beside her. “We had a service yesterday, and I gave Jenny and Ely my name. I wish now that I’d waited. Only Dr. Mary kept telling me you wouldn’t make it.”

  “No, I’m glad you went ahead.” Her voice came barely louder than a whisper.

  “Darlin’, your idea of this Advent is a huge success. It’s really made a big difference in the children and adults, too. I’m just sorry you missed most of it. Oh, Tally said to tell you that she took your day on the calendar.”

  “That’s good.”

  He smoothed back her hair and tenderly kissed her. “I don’t know why God granted my request. I’m only glad He did.” Travis chuckled. “Maybe he’d never heard such a pitiful outlaw’s strange prayers. But here you are, alive and feeling better than you have in weeks. I’m a lucky, lucky man.”