Wild West Christmas

by Jenna Kernan

  Why couldn’t Alice be an ordinary sort of woman?

  Why did his sister have to go and die when he was holed up in a winter job? Four months, and then what? He didn’t know. Another cattle drive? Driving horses?

  He didn’t want to give his nephews up, but he’d be damned if he’d drag them about from place to place as his father had done with him and Sylvie. Now he was just as rootless as dear old Dad. Children needed a home, and he knew that he couldn’t give them one. He had no business even entertaining the notion of keeping them, yet his heart still ached with the impending loss. He didn’t understand it. He didn’t even know them.

  But then he didn’t have to. They were Sylvie’s. That was enough. He thought of his own father and grimaced.

  “Can’t do worse than that,” he muttered.

  Steeling himself for what must be done, he marched across the long runner that bisected the rows of dining tables. This being neither lunch nor dinner, the room was quiet. He passed only one other customer, a gentleman in a clean brown suit whose hat rested, brim up, in the empty seat beside him.

  Momentum carried Dillen forward until he rested a hand on the top of the two chairs occupied by his nephews, but his eyes were still on Alice seated before her china teacup.

  “You look just the same as the last time I saw you.”

  Her eyes narrowed at the reference. “Do you mean at the station?”

  The corners of his mouth tipped down and he could see from the glitter in those green eyes that she knew exactly what he had meant.

  “I meant in Omaha on Christmas Eve.”

  Perhaps she was recalling the last thing he’d said to her before his departure from Omaha.

  I don’t even know you. But it wasn’t her lie that had sent him running. It was the truth, and that was a far different thing.

  “Appearances can be deceiving,” she said. “You above all should know that.”

  He thought it was this woman, more than appearances, that were deceiving. If only it had not all been a glorious lie. Still, he wouldn’t trade his memories of Alice for the truth.

  He became aware of the silence and that someone other than Alice was staring. His nephews sat as still as twin fence posts, watching him with the dark brown eyes of his sister. Without their hats, he could see the wide-set eyes fringed with dark lashes and the familiar wavy hair of the Roach family. The resemblance was so strong that he realized, with a pang of pride, that they could easily be mistaken for his. He’d once hoped to be a father, vowing that unlike his own, he would be kind, supportive and present. Now that fate had given him the opportunity, he would be forced to give them up for their own good.

  “How’s the pie?”

  Cody nodded. “Fine, sir. Would you like some?” He pushed the half-eaten pastry in Dillen’s direction.

  “Cody,” said Alice, “what did we say you should call Mr. Roach?”

  “Oh.” Cody rubbed the back of his neck and then said. “Uncle Dillen, would you like some pie?”

  His mouth watered as he shook his head. “That’s all right, son. Have at it.”

  Colin grinned, showing he had a good deal of piecrust stuck to his cheeks. Alice dipped a lace-trimmed handkerchief into her drinking glass and mopped Colin clean. It was a gesture so maternal it made Dillen’s stomach drop an inch as the longing gripped him hard and low. She just kept surprising him. Why was she here? Was it only the boys?

  Why else? You think just because you missed her every waking moment that she missed you?

  “May I join you?” asked Dillen.

  Alice motioned to the empty seat. He removed his hat and hung it on the spindle on the chair back, then tucked in beside Alice. He settled in the seat, and for just a moment he pretended he was the head of the household and they were all his. He let the fantasy linger a moment longer before letting it die under an avalanche of reality. He didn’t even have the scratch for a haircut, let alone a family.

  The waiter arrived and handed Dillen a menu printed on thick cream-colored paper. Every single item on the sheet would have cost him a day’s wages. He set the menu aside and then assessed the empty plates, struck with the sudden fear that he’d have to pay for their meal. The shame of not having the funds to cover one lunch nearly drove him from the table. He actually rose when Alice laid a hand on his forearm.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I—I…” He had no earthly idea. His brain had stopped working the minute he saw that menu.

  Dillen stilled as her fingers splayed over his sleeve, and he wished he’d taken off his coat so he could feel her touch. But it didn’t matter. Just sitting beside her, smelling her delicate perfume, brought it all back, that night, their kiss. Him being fool enough to think he could ever keep a woman as fine as Alice. Her being fool enough to believe her parents would welcome the likes of him to their family. Her hand slipped back to her lap and her cheeks flushed. Was she thinking of how he’d held her? How he’d told her he loved her?

  “Is everything all right, Mr. Roach?” she asked.

  “Fine,” he lied.

  He would rather be back on that crazy three-year-old mustang crow-hopping across the pen than here beside her in this fancy-pants restaurant with those two boys looking to him for answers he didn’t have.

  The waiter returned and asked what he’d like.

  “Nothing,” he said.

  “Coffee, black,” said Alice simultaneously. Then she turned to him. “Have you eaten?”

  He hadn’t, not since the stale biscuit he’d had with bacon this morning, and it was now closer to dinner than lunch.

  “I’m not hungry,” he lied again.

  Alice made a face. “A ham sandwich with fried potatoes,” she said to the waiter.

  “I can’t stay.”

  That made her shoulders wilt. But she rallied, her gaze still on the waiter. “Wrap it to go, if you please.”

  The man nodded and returned the way he had come. She waited until he had vanished to the kitchens before turning to face Dillen.

  “You cannot stay?” she asked.

  He shook his head.

  “What happened at the station?”

  “I made a mistake. The telegram you received? That was for a horse breeder. I was asking him to send two horses. Now I’ve got to go up to Cripple Creek to get the pair because he got the telegram saying I couldn’t take them. The one I meant to send to you.”

  Cody’s legs went out from under him and he hit the padded seat hard.

  Alice’s hand shook, making the teacup rattle on the saucer. “Did you say that you could not take them?”

  “I just can’t take them right now. I need a little time. I’m sorry you came all the way out here.”

  “Immediate delivery, you said.”

  “Delivery of the twin Welsh ponies. They are the latest acquisitions for the Harvey spread, and I have to go fetch them now.”

  Alice’s face grew pink as she regarded him for a long silent moment. “Yes, I see. How long will your errand take?”

  “Overnight.”

  “And then you can take them?”

  Dillen was silent.

  “I see.” Alice’s gray-green eyes shimmered, and her face looked long and drawn. She rose. Dillen followed her to her feet and retrieved his hat. Alice turned to the boys. “Your uncle and I need a private word. Please stay at the table. Cody, you are in charge.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Alice walked to the opposite side of the room, standing before the tall window, each pane frosted from the cold. The afternoon light showed the creamy perfection of her skin. Two pink patches glowed on her cheeks, and Dillen knew that Miss Truett was struggling with her emotions. Dillen felt like a dog as he slunk up before her.

  “Mr. Roach, those two boys need you. You are their closest living relative and the only one they have ever met. Mr. Asher’s parents predeceased him and they had no other children. Then you send me a telegram to bring these boys immediately and so I have. Now you tell m
e this is all some dreadful mistake. I need to know, Mr. Roach, what your intentions are toward your nephews’ care.”

  “I want to take them. It’s just…” He couldn’t bring himself to tell her the truth—that he was a saddle stiff, a carnival hand, a no-account.

  “When you conclude your purchase of horses, will you be able to take charge of them?”

  He stared at her in mute indecision. He wanted them, but he also wanted what was best for them. He wasn’t it.

  “Mr. Roach, do you not want them?”

  “I want them. Of course I do.”

  “Is it a matter of time, then? Do you wish me to stay for a few days to allow you to make necessary preparations?”

  All the time in this wide world would not be enough for Dillen to provide a home for two youngsters. But Dillen looked down into her large, trusting eyes and saw that Alice really believed he could do it. Her sincerity and confidence took away some of the panic and he reined in his racing heart. Next thing he knew he was nodding yes. A little more time. Time for his brother-in-law’s great-aunt to reply. Time to find someone who could raise his sister’s children, time to disappoint Alice Pinter Truett once more.

  “Very well. I’ll take a room here and see to the boys. How long will you require for your business?”

  “Be back by tomorrow.”

  “We shall expect to see you then.” Alice extended her slender hand, bare now that she was at her meal. Dillen clasped hold. Her skin was smooth and satiny. He used his thumb to stroke the soft skin on the back of her hand. Alice gasped and her green eyes went wide. But she did not pull away. Instead she lifted her free hand and stroked his face, allowing the pads of her fingers to caress the apple of his cheek before traveling over the coarse hairs of his close-cropped beard. Now it was Dillen’s turn to go still as her hand came to rest on his chest, her fingers splayed as if to still his thumping heart.

  “Come back soon,” she whispered, and then withdrew, her hands retreating, her expression changing from wide-eyed need to the deferential demeanor of a proper lady. But for an instant he’d glimpsed her again, the woman he had fallen in love with. The one he had kissed. The passionate, free spirit she had become when she was with him.

  Which woman was she?

  Dillen watched her walk away. There was no sultry sway of her hips, just the clipped, sedate walk of a woman of means and character. A woman so far above him that he feared he’d just imagined that spark that flew between them like a hot ember jumping from one blazing roof to the next.

  But his skin still tingled from her touch and his body shouted for him to advance. Instead he tucked his hat down tight and retreated as fast as his long legs could carry him.

  Come back soon, she’d said. Lord, help me, because she could do so much better than my sorry hide.

  As he reached the train station, he knew he couldn’t stay away from her. She was too sweet and he was too hungry. This would end badly for them both. Why the devil had she come here?

  Chapter Four

  Alice did not see Dillen the following day, nor the day after that.

  While she waited for him to conclude his business, she wired her family of her safe arrival, penned her elder brother, Arthur, a letter and did some Christmas shopping for his daughters Harriet, age seven, and Lizzy, age nine. She had already finished her shopping for her younger brother, Edward’s, children, though her nieces would hardly notice the gifts since Amelia was only two and Lidia just seven months come December. Alice had always spent Christmas Eve at her grandfather’s home, a very elegant affair, the house open for all the right sort of people. Alice never enjoyed this part of the holidays. But afterward they would return to her parents’ more modest home and she would exchange gifts with both her brothers and their growing families. Christmas morning was spent attending church with her parents—though she wished she could be at her brother’s home in the morning when the girls woke and found what Santa had brought them, but understood that this was a private family time. Knowing so only made her long for a family of her own, for children with whom she could share the joy and innocence of those mornings.

  She knew that Colin and Cody believed in Santa with their whole hearts. She managed to distract them with the help of the clerk so she had time to make several purchases for their stockings. The boys left the shop unknowingly carrying their own gifts, which made her smile. They were such good boys. Sylvia would be so proud. She sighed wistfully as Colin and Cody skipped along beside her on the snow-covered road. She needed to get these two to their uncle soon, for she feared that if she waited much longer she might not be able to give them up.

  Alice returned to the hotel to inquire at the front desk if there were a message from Mr. Roach. Finding none, she went directly to the telegraph office to inquire there.

  “No, ma’am” came the reply from the operator. “Did see him come through town yesterday, though. Had those two ponies. Fine looking pair. Oh, and no word yet from Chicago,” he said, smiling and nodding at Colin and Cody who peered up at him as he rested an elbow on the counter. “Going to visit your auntie, are you?” he asked.

  Alice felt the tingle of cold as if ice crystals formed beneath her skin. She drew one boy to each side and swallowed back her dread.

  Alice lowered her chin. “Pardon?”

  “Mr. Roach wrote their great-aunt.” His grin dissolved. Perhaps he now recognized from her seething expression or the boys’ wide-eyed stares that they had not been privy to this information.

  Ben Asher’s aunt had died some years back of a stroke. Alice did recall that Ben had two uncles, also deceased. Another possibility struck.

  “He said Chicago?”

  The telegraph operator drew back from the counter, hesitating now.

  Alice patted Colin’s back as he clung to her skirts. “Would the name of this relative be McCrery, Ella McCrery?”

  “I—I’m not…”

  She gave him a scowl, fearing she might need to shout and she hated to shout. She took a step toward the counter, hampered by the clinging children.

  He swallowed and then nodded. “Believe that’s right, though he said Edna.”

  Alice drew a breath, praying for calm as her stomach roiled. “To what question did Mr. Roach seek reply?”

  The operator’s bushy brows rose high on his shiny forehead, but he answered the question. “Whether she could take the boys.”

  “I see.”

  She returned to the hotel with her charges, who both had to jog to keep pace.

  “Miss Alice?” asked Cody. “What’s happening?”

  “We have to go see your Uncle Dillen.”

  “But the man said he doesn’t want us.”

  She didn’t know what to say, for she feared Cody’s concerns were valid. She looked at these two perfect little boys and wondered how anyone in the world could not want them. Why, she’d give anything to raise them up as her own. She had always loved them, but now that Sylvia was gone, that love had taken root deep inside her.

  Alice straightened her spine. She had been put off once too often to make excuses for Dillen. Clearly he was avoiding her and doing all in his power to pack the children off. Alice saw only two choices. She could return to Omaha with the children or she could try one last time to convince Dillen Roach to honor his sister’s final request.

  “Hush, now, let me think.”

  Alice forced the anger down. The boys both looked frightened half to death, as if she might just hand them to a stranger. She stilled as she realized that was what she had been preparing to do, for clearly she did not know Dillen any longer. The man she once knew would not shirk his responsibility or ignore his duty to his family.

  At the front desk, Alice spoke to the manager.

  “How could I arrange transport to the Harvey ranch?”

  He gave Alice the directions to the livery and the name of the gentleman to see. “If you’ve never driven a wagon or sleigh, then hire a driver, as well. And don’t set out without a rifle, fo
od and blankets or furs. If you break a runner, you could be stuck for some time.”

  This bit of advice made Alice’s knees wobble, but she reminded herself of her mission. Plus a sleigh ride in the wilderness might be an excellent way to test her mettle.

  One hour later, lunched and dressed in their warmest clothing, she and Colin sat in the second seat of a sleigh. Cody preferred to sit with the driver, Mr. Donald Miller, an aged livery hand with a round face, a high forehead and tufted gray hair peeking out from beneath a green knit cap. He held a pipe perpetually clamped between his teeth and his beard was cut in the manner of Puritans, so he reminded Alice of a New England whaling captain. Though the broken blood vessels on his nose and cheeks seemed to indicate that, unlike the Puritan he resembled, Mr. Miller indulged in spirits.

  The wind whistled and the runners hissed as the horse trotted in a well-worn groove of packed snow. Despite the hot bricks and blankets, Alice’s toes were icy and her cheeks numb. She was saved from inquiring regarding the remaining distance by Cody, who asked the driver that exact question at regular intervals.

  According to the last report they were already on the ranch, though it looked no different than the pine forest they had traversed for the past several miles since leaving the town of Blue River Junction. Colin spotted a wooden fence with even split wood planks nailed to upright posts. Alice craned her neck and was rewarded with a glimpse of the sloping peaked roof of a barn. They crested a rise and she realized that what she had assumed was the side of the barn was, in fact, the front. The barn was easily four times as large as she had first imagined. Alice’s gaze swept the unbroken expanse of snow that covered the open ground. Pastures, she realized, and beyond them, she spotted a long outbuilding squatting parallel to the barn, and on the top of the next rise the rustic yet expansive log ranch house.

  This was not what Alice had expected, but still bore proof that Dillen had managed to achieve his ambitions alone. She closed her eyes at the evidence of his success.

  He was not a veterinarian, as he had wished, but owned property and livestock. Alice lifted her head and stared. She was looking at the home he had carved out for himself in a mere two years. A home suitable for a family—perfect, in fact. He clearly had the means to support a wife. And if the curl of blue smoke coming from the chimney of the bunkhouse was any indication, he had hired hands, as well.