by Jenna Kernan
When he finally stopped to rest, Paul approached.
“You’re lookin’ a mite tied and dragged. Figured you could use some liquid courage,” Paul said with a smirk, and handed him a mug of spiced cider. “To hear the women talk, you’re a regular saint with all the help you’re giving old Widow Birdwell.”
“Not if you could read my thoughts.”
“Not so noble? Fancy that.”
“Shut up, Paul. Go dance or something. Mabel has been eyeing you all night.”
“Well, the company would be an improvement.”
Garrett fell silent again as his gaze found Kathleen. She was with Lucy in the midst of a cluster of women. Talking. Always talking. What the heck did females find so interesting to say?
Slowly he became aware of a small dark-haired figure at his hip. Lily.
“How do, Miss Lily. You havin’ a good time?”
A small sniffle escaped.
Uh-oh. He crouched down to her level. “What’s wrong?”
She took two shaky breaths, her lower lip trembling. “Tommy Mulligan spilled punch all over my new dress!” She held up the offending material. A smear of pink stained the hemline.
He glanced up at Paul. How did one handle a situation like this? Paul looked just as perplexed as he was. Garrett swallowed.
“Well, now. Boys can be clumsy at times. Comes with growing too fast.”
Her china-doll eyes widened. “Tommy can’t help growing.”
“No. That he can’t. And I’ll tell you another thing about boys. They ’bout never say they’re sorry.”
“Why?”
“Comes real hard to them. Harder than just about anything else. Just ask my friend here, Mr. Ham.”
She looked up at Paul and then seemed to ponder Garrett’s words. “Di…did you spill punch?”
Mesmerized by her large brown eyes, so like Josh’s, he vaguely realized his leg had started to cramp in his crouched position. He rose to his full height. “Happened a time or two.”
Lily heaved a big sigh…and her small hand slipped into his.
He stood stock-still. He’d been content that she was finally talking to him, but this! It was more than he’d hoped for. Warmth spread though him. It humbled him—this acceptance, this trust from Josh’s daughter.
* * *
Kathleen could only half listen to the man she’d just danced with, her attention pulled to the unfolding drama at the edge of the room. What was her daughter saying to Garrett? It looked as if she was bombarding him with questions. She wished she were closer so that she could hear! All evening she’d danced with other men when all she really wanted was to find out what it would be like to be in Garrett’s arms.
“Should I be jealous? Or just offended?” The twinkle in Eduardo’s eyes said he was neither.
“I’m so sorry!”
A black brow shot up. “Not the answer I wanted.”
It had been a long time since anyone flirted with her. “Then—neither. I was curious what my daughter was doing.”
“Lily? She’s with Señor Garrett.”
It was a bit disconcerting to realize this stranger knew who her daughter was. “You know the Sheridans?”
He grinned. “I’ve worked their ranch for two years now.”
“Oh.”
“Another dance? If I plan just right, I could maybe stop right under that.” He pointed to a cluster of green dangling from the wagon-wheel chandelier. Mistletoe.
“Try that move, Eduardo, and I may have to banish you to the north forty for a week.”
She recognized the deep voice behind her. Eduardo tipped his hat to her, winked and walked away. She turned to face Garrett. “About time you made your way over, Mr. Sheridan.”
“Took a while to bolster my courage. You’ve been in demand all evening.” He handed her a glass of cider. “Figured you could use that.”
He waited for her to finish her glass, and then took it from her and set it aside. “You ready?” His invitation to dance might lack finesse, but his gaze was warm as he held out his left hand—warm and hopeful and slightly unsure. Her fingers touched his and shivers raced up her arm. If he noticed, he didn’t say anything. She stepped into his arms for a slow waltz.
He didn’t talk as he danced, but then she hadn’t expected that of him. She let the music take her, trusting him to maneuver them both around the dance floor. He took her in circles, making her feel deliciously dizzy. Once, when she misstepped, he gripped her tighter and they both laughed.
“I haven’t heard that enough,” Garrett said. “Your laugh.”
“I’m just finding it again,” she admitted. “And it’s your fault.”
A slow smile—full of comprehension—spread across his face.
Heat rose in her cheeks. “I mean…what I—”
But his smile only widened…and then he pulled her closer. Her heart did a somersault inside her. There was something special going on here. Was it just friendship? Or more?
All too soon, the music ended.
“Thank you for the dance.”
He bowed slightly. “The pleasure was all mine, ma’am. However, looks like Lucy is glaring at me. Guess that means I’m up for a dance with her.”
She sighed inwardly, wishing he’d stay by her side. “You do owe her.”
“I was trying to forget. Excuse me.” He walked toward Lucy as a lively square dance started up. Before long Kathleen realized she was tapping her toe to the music. She was having fun for the first time in years. She sighed happily.
“Kathleen.”
She froze, recognizing the voice. Franklin—her brother-in-law. Her spirits plummeted.
“Did you think I wouldn’t find you?”
Slowly she turned. “I wasn’t hiding.”
He stood there in his overcoat and bowler. Snowflakes dotted his shoulders. “You left without telling anyone.”
“I left a note.”
He snorted. “And now you’ve had your little holiday.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve come to take you back.”
Chapter Eight
Garrett finished the dance with Lucy, fetched her a glass of cider and then turned to head back to Kathleen. He stopped when he saw that she stood with a newcomer. The man wore clothes a cut above the rest of the townsfolk—a black silk vest with a gold watch fob dangling from the pocket, boots that looked to be made from alligator rather than the traditional leather of the area. A man of means.
“You gonna stand back and let that stranger move in?” Paul said in a low voice, coming to stand beside him.
“It’s her choice who she wants to talk to.” Even Garrett could hear the underlying tension in his voice.
“And you can see that if you don’t step in, she don’t have a choice.”
Garrett pressed his lips together. Sometimes Paul was just too blunt, but he guessed that was why he got along with him. He knew where the man stood. Unfortunately, he didn’t care for his opinion now—probably because it was true.
“Anyone with eyes in their head can tell you care for her.”
“It’s complicated, so you just might want to talk on something else since it’s none of your business.” He was pretty sure that wouldn’t stop Paul one bit.
“You’ve been mooning over her since I first met you. Time you own up to it.”
“Like I said—it’s not that simple. Go find Lucy and ask her for a dance yourself.”
“Good idea. I can talk to you any ol’ day.” He cuffed Garrett on the shoulder.
Once his friend had ambled away, Garrett looked back at Kathleen. What was going on?
Mr. Gator Boots leaned closer to her. Criminy, but she was pretty tonight with her skin flushed from dancing. She blended right in with all the holiday decorations. But this guy—all silk vest and slicked-back hair—jarred the whole picture. Garrett had a bad feeling about the man.
He felt a tug at his sleeve. Lily was back. “Tell him to leave my mama alone!”
At the moment, he could think of nothing he wanted more. He didn’t like the way the man’s body shut out the rest of the room to her. Yet, the way she stood there and answered right back—hands on her hips—seemed she knew him.
Garrett crouched down again. “Your mother’s a big girl. I expect she can handle herself if she wants him to go away.”
A scowl marred Lily’s sweet face and made him chuckle. “Tell you what. Let’s head over to Miss Molly and have a piece of her pumpkin pie.”
Lily’s eyes lit up. “Pumpkin’s my favorite!”
“Fancy that!” he teased. “Mine, too.”
They made their way through the men, women and children standing around the three tables of food. Apple, mincemeat and pumpkin pie appeared to be the staple fare. The air was thick with their warm aroma. On the far table were cutting boards with rounds of cheese and beside them, jugs of cider.
“You havin’ a good time?” Molly asked Lily from her place behind the tables. She suddenly whisked out a rolled newspaper and shooed away a fly that had the audacity to test the food before everyone else. “Wish I’d brought my swatter,” she mumbled. “I’d shorten a life, and that’s the truth. That fly don’t know it’s winter. Must have been hiding out for a month just a-waiting for this party.”
Lily giggled.
Garrett raised his brows. “Had no idea you were so violent, Miss Molly.”
“Only when it comes to my pies.”
Garrett picked up a dessert plate and cut a wedge of pumpkin pie. He looked up to see if Kathleen was coming over when he saw the man grab her arm and move her toward the doorway. He set down the pie. With a glance at Molly, he made it clear she was to watch Lily, and then strode over to Kathleen.
“Everything all right?”
Was it his imagination, or did her shoulders relax?
He nodded to the stranger. “Garrett Sheridan. And around here we don’t manhandle the ladies.”
The stranger let go of Kathleen’s arm and looked him over. “So you’re a Sheridan. I’ve heard a lot about your family.”
“Sure it’s all good.”
Instead of commenting, the man turned back to Kathleen. “Where are you staying?”
“I’m not going back, Franklin.”
“Of course you are. Julia is having heart palpitations and your mother is sick with worry.”
“And Father? Why didn’t he come?”
“It’s a busy time of year for him.”
“So he sent you.”
“I volunteered.” A smile played about the corners of his mouth. His black eyes, however, were cold.
Kathleen pressed her lips together. “I have a job here and Lily is adjusting to her new surroundings. I’m not going anywhere.”
“A job?” Franklin echoed, his voice coated with sarcasm. “You have a job back home.”
“I’m fully capable of deciding where I want to live.” Was it Garrett’s imagination or did he detect slight desperation in her tone?
Franklin snorted. “You’ve proved you can manage on your own. I take it that was the point in all this.”
Garrett had heard enough. Seemed the man wasn’t used to taking the word no for an answer. He held out his hand to Kathleen. “I hate to break up this reunion, but you promised me one more dance. I’ll collect on that now.”
Before Franklin could object, Garrett pulled Kathleen into his arms. The fiddler struck up another tune—a slow box step. Good. Anything faster and they wouldn’t be able to talk. Tension radiated off her. What she needed was quiet—and maybe a little holding—in which he’d be glad to oblige, but he needed answers first. “How do you know that man?”
“My sister’s husband, Franklin Farthington.” She hesitated slightly in her dance step and pulled back to look up at him, her expression puzzled. “I didn’t promise you anything about a dance.”
He grinned. “Seemed the easiest way to frustrate good ol’ Frank.”
A hint of a smile lifted the corners of her mouth. “He’s not one to trifle with. He’s a powerful man. And can be persuasive.”
“But he’s not your husband. Which means he has no right to force you to go anywhere.”
She was quiet at that.
“Do you want to go back?” He had to be sure. It had to bother her, having her mother and sister worrying. “What’s really going on here, Kathleen?”
From her expression she seemed to be thinking mighty hard. After the music’s second refrain, she met his gaze. “I don’t want to leave, Garrett. This is my home now.”
Garrett stopped dancing. “Clear enough.” He started toward the man.
Kathleen grabbed his sleeve. “Please don’t make a scene.”
He patted her hand and then extricated himself. “You stay here.”
He strode up to Franklin. “This is a community dance and last I knew you were not a part of this community. I’ll ask you to leave.”
Franklin smirked. “I’m not going without Kathleen. She needs to come with me. Her daughter, too.”
Garrett took hold of his arm. The bulge beneath the man’s shoulder warned of a weapon. Garrett whipped him around and forced him through the doorway. Behind him, a few ladies gasped at the sudden commotion.
Franklin fumbled for the gun—which now resided in Garrett’s grip.
“I’m not so slow as to let you get the upper hand, mister.” Garrett pushed him forward toward a fancy carriage. “I figure this one is yours.”
“Don’t you think I see what’s going on?” Franklin snarled, but he climbed onto the seat. “If Kathleen doesn’t come with me now, she’ll never be welcome back in her own home. Her father barely will take her back as it is.”
Garrett emptied the bullets from the derringer into the dirt and then held up the gun. When Franklin leaned down for it, Garrett grasped his collar, pulling him close. “Don’t you ever call her character into question again. She’s a Sheridan, and as such, you’ll give her the respect she’s entitled to. Now get!” He shoved Franklin away. Grabbing the bridle on the lead horse, he pulled the conveyance around to face the road to San Diego. He let out a loud whistle and slapped the animal’s rump with the flat of his hand.
Startled, the horse took off at a gallop.
Garrett turned. Paul, Eduardo and Lucy stood at the door flanking Kathleen, their faces set in determined anticipation should he have need of their help. That extended to Kathleen now, he realized, and was thankful for it. He strode over to her. “I’ll get your cloak.”
“I’d like that,” she said, her voice shaking.
Outside, a fairy ring haloed the full Christmas moon. He carried Lily and hadn’t taken more than five steps when she laid her head on his shoulder. They crossed the main road before Kathleen spoke.
“Thank you, Garrett. Thank you for everything.”
“Should I expect a bullet in my back?” He wasn’t afraid, just trying to jostle her out of her worried mood. It worked.
She smiled. “Franklin is not a violent sort, but you may notice a few restaurants in the city that won’t buy your beef in the future. He’ll go back to my family, they’ll throw up their hands that I’m beyond redemption now and perhaps will leave me be until spring.”
“That include your father?”
She shook her head. “My father is done with me. That’s why Franklin came. Not him.”
They passed the large wooden doors of the livery and turned the corner, and then walked by the Krueger and the Vancini homes—still dark since both families were at the dance. When they reached Molly’s, he stopped on the porch. A small animal scuffled over his boot and rounded the corner of the house.
Kathleen stood on tiptoes to see her daughter’s face. “Lily is half-asleep. She looks so content I hate to move her, but I’ll take her now.”
He wrestled Lily around and into Kathleen’s arms, all the while wishing he could just take the sleepy child to the back room and tuck her in. But he understood. Kathleen had to be careful of “talk,” and that meant staying
outside in full view—even if the only ones getting a good view were the moon and the hoot owl in the old pine.
“Will you wait?”
He nodded, wondering what more she had on her mind. She disappeared into the shadows of the house.
Five minutes later, she stepped outside.
“All snuggled in,” she said, speaking of her daughter. Quietly, she closed the door. The light from the moon changed her hair to silvery white and lent her face a translucent quality. She looked like he supposed angels must.
“For weeks you have been underfoot—making sure Molly had firewood, making sure the roof was sturdy for the winter snow, walking me home.”
“Guess I feel a certain responsibility to you and Lily.”
“Is that what it is, Garrett?”
He swallowed. That and more. “Yes.”
Kathleen looked away. “I thought…” She sighed.
“What?”
“Do you remember that time in Satterly’s barn?”
His breath hitched and he glanced at her lips. “That was a long time ago.”
“But you remember.”
“Yes.” That kiss had seared him with her sweetness. Fumbling, tentative, he’d known it was her first. It had all but carved her initials on his heart.
He studied her, the upturn of her nose, the way she’d twined the red ribbon in her hair. Small touches…feminine touches. He could smell the soap she’d used in her hair mixed in with the scent given off by the pines surrounding them. Awareness of her raced through him and set his skin to tingling.
“People make assumptions about widows. Other men would have expected…something…in return for all the hard work they did around here, but you haven’t asked for anything from me.”
“I asked to see Lily.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“I know.” He stared at her, wanting her more in that moment than he could admit. Brother-in-law or not, she was a beautiful woman inside and out. He tried to remember why he’d stayed away. For his own sanity, right? It became harder and harder to think straight with her so close. “I’m no saint, Kathleen. Don’t make me out to be.”
