A Cowboy's Christmas Carol

by Brenda Harlen

  “Gabe thinks it’s more likely that Josiah’s wife, Cora, put a stop to the visits. He said she always seemed insecure about the relationship and oddly possessive, so it’s likely that she wouldn’t have been happy to discover her husband had a relationship with his daughter from a former lover.”

  “He wouldn’t have pushed back?” Wanda wondered aloud.

  “He might have,” Melanie acknowledged. “But by then, Cora had given him a child, too. And if she threatened to take Alexander away...well, the thought of being cut off from another child might have been unbearable to him.”

  Dorothea looked at the old man in the wheelchair, and she knew Melanie was right. They could do a test, but the truth was already clear in her heart.

  Josiah Abernathy was her father.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “So now we’re going to Rust Creek Falls on Wednesday,” Evan said to Daphne, as he sat on a stool by the kitchen sink, peeling potatoes for dinner—the most arduous task that she would allow him to tackle, despite his assurance that he was feeling fine.

  “Why Wednesday?” she asked.

  “Because it was the first day that worked for everyone’s schedules,” he explained. “Everyone including Gabe Abernathy and his fiancée, Melanie Driscoll, Gabe’s sister Erica and her husband, Morgan Dalton...and hopefully you, too.

  “I know your first responsibility is to the animals,” he said, anticipating her objection. “But I’m hoping, since it’s not a last-minute request this time, that you’ll be able to call in some of your amazing volunteers to take over your chores for the day so that you can come with us.”

  “I appreciate that you want to include me, but it seems to me that what you’ve planned is the very definition of a family affair.”

  “And?”

  “And I’m not family.”

  “But...didn’t you tell the nurse at the hospital that we were engaged?”

  “No,” she immediately denied, her cheeks burning. “It was your grandmother who said that—or at least implied it. And how did you hear about that, anyway?”

  He ignored her question to ask one of his own. “So we’re not really engaged?”

  “You know we’re not.”

  “But the part where I told you I loved you, and then you said that you loved me, too—that was real, right?”

  “That was real,” she confirmed.

  He set down the potato peeler and dried his hands on a towel before reaching for her. He drew her close and lowered his head to kiss her long and slow and deep.

  “Mmm,” she said, when he finally ended the kiss. “What was that for?”

  “Just making sure you were real,” he said lightly.

  “And now it’s my turn,” Daphne said, linking her arms behind his head and drawing his mouth down to hers again.

  As their tongues dallied and danced together, his hands went north, under her sweater, skimming up her torso to cup her breasts. Meanwhile, she took her exploration south, sliding a hand beneath the waistband of his jeans.

  “Are we starting something we can’t finish?” he asked when he eased his mouth from hers.

  “The evidence at hand doesn’t suggest there will be a problem,” she teased.

  He gave a subtle shake of his head, releasing his breath on a groan when she stroked him again.

  “A few days ago, you said this couldn’t happen,” he reminded her.

  “A few days ago, you’d just been released from the hospital. Today you proved your recovery is on track by peeling all those potatoes.”

  He chuckled softly as he carefully removed her hand from inside his pants. “A remarkable test of my strength and endurance.”

  “Let’s go upstairs and see if you’ve got any left,” she suggested.

  “I’ve got some left,” he said, and proved it by effortlessly lifting her into his arms.

  “What are you doing? Put me down,” she demanded.

  “I will,” he promised, but only did so after he’d climbed the stairs and tumbled with her onto the bed.

  * * *

  Daphne awoke to discover Evan thrashing in the sheets. A nightmare, she guessed, and reached out to touch a hand to his shoulder. “Evan?”

  He jolted awake then and sucked in a breath.

  “Are you okay?” she asked worriedly.

  “Yeah.”

  But he was still breathing hard, and his skin was clammy with perspiration.

  “Were you dreaming about the fire again?”

  He nodded. “It was his fault.”

  “Who’s fault?”

  “Russell’s.” He scrubbed his hands over his face. “He lit the candles that night.”

  Even in the darkness, Daphne could see the haunted look on his face.

  “He didn’t have much money, or much of anything really, except love for her,” he continued. “And he wanted to show her, so he set the scene with candles and a bottle of wine he stole from her father’s cellar.

  “They drank the wine and made love, and he knew that he’d never feel about anyone else the way he felt about Alice. Afterward, as they cuddled close, they talked about their future.

  “Neither of them planned to fall asleep. They knew her parents would only be gone a few hours and all hell would break loose if Henry Milton caught them together. But fall asleep they did...and one of the candles must have fallen over while they were sleeping, because Russell awoke to see flames climbing up the wall. And to hear the horses below, desperately pawing at the ground in their stalls and bumping against the walls that contained them, snorting and squealing in terror.”

  Daphne felt tears burn the backs of her eyes as she pictured the scene all too clearly. And her heart raced, pounding against her ribs, as she was certain Alice’s must have done on that tragic night so long ago.

  “He barely had a moment to realize what was happening before Alice woke up, too, coughing because of the smoke, already thick in the air around them.

  “He picked up a blanket and tried to beat the flames away from the ladder. If they could get down from the hayloft, they could escape. But the fire was spreading too fast.

  “They could hear sirens in the distance, but they knew the trucks wouldn’t get there in time. He begged for her forgiveness as he held her in his arms, because it was his fault. He only ever wanted to love her, but instead...he killed her.”

  She could hear the anguish in Evan’s voice, knew that whatever emotions Russell had felt that night, Evan was feeling now. She didn’t quite understand what was happening, how Alice and Russell were connecting through her and Evan, why they had been chosen. But she could offer comfort to the man she loved, and share with him what she knew in her heart.

  “She didn’t blame him,” Daphne said, sensing not just that truth in Alice’s presence but the ghost’s need to assure Russell—through Evan—of that truth. “Even as she started to lose consciousness, even as she understood her life was ending, she knew that she’d lived more fully in the months that she’d shared with him than in all the years that had come before—because he’d loved her.”

  “He’ll love her forever.”

  “As she will him,” Daphne assured him, wiping away a tear that spilled onto her cheeks.

  She sighed then, not just saddened by the tragic loss of life but frustrated by what had come after. “They should have been allowed to rest in peace, together.”

  Evan tightened his arms around her. “We’ll make it happen,” he promised. “Somehow we’ll make it happen.”

  * * *

  There were so many vehicles making the trip from Bronco to Rust Creek Falls that Dorothea felt as if she was part of a caravan. Gabe and Melanie were in the first car, followed by Gabe’s sister Erica and Morgan Dalton with their newborn daughter, then came Dorothea, Wanda and Vanessa in Wanda’s minivan, followed by Evan and Daphne in a blu
e truck with the Happy Hearts logo on the door, because Evan’s SUV was still in the shop for repairs after his recent accident.

  Dorothea was filled with so much anticipation, she could barely sit still throughout the long drive, and her excitement increased exponentially when they passed a freshly painted sign that welcomed visitors to Rust Creek Falls. It was a pretty town, she noted, the storefronts along Cedar Street decked out for Christmas—now only two days away—with garlands and twinkling lights.

  The vehicles lined up behind one another on the street in front of Winona’s small house, then the parade of visitors marched toward the front door. She hung back a little, behind Melanie and Gabe, as the group trooped inside. If Winona was at all daunted by the arrival of so many guests, she gave no sign of it as she welcomed them into her home.

  Though Dorothea was eager to get the introductions done, Winona seemed less concerned, ushering them into the living room and inviting them to sit.

  “It’s wonderful to see you, Melanie,” Winona said. “And you’ve brought friends to visit.”

  “Friends who were anxious to meet you,” Melanie said.

  “Well, isn’t that nice? Let me just make some tea to go with the white chocolate cranberry cookies I picked up from Daisy’s Donuts this morning. Eva was just setting them in the display case when I stopped in, and I bought the whole lot,” she said, sounding pleased with her coup.

  “Please don’t go to any trouble,” Melanie protested.

  “It’s no trouble at all,” Winona said. “And it’s so nice to have company.”

  Though Melanie had warned of the old woman’s failing health, Winona seemed in pretty good shape to Dorothea. She did lean heavily on her cane when she walked and her breathing sounded a little labored, but she was mobile and living independently—a definite win for a woman of her age.

  Still, Dorothea didn’t like the idea of the nonagenarian—her mother—fussing in the kitchen on their account. Not to mention that she was eager to have an actual conversation with Winona, something she had been unable to do with Josiah.

  Wanda obviously shared her concerns, because instead of sitting, as she’d been instructed, she followed Winona to the kitchen.

  “Why don’t you show me where everything is so I can make the tea while you visit with your guests?” she suggested.

  “That would be nice,” Winona said, then made her way back to the living room. She settled into what was obviously her favorite chair and, after slowly perusing the gathering of people, started to rise again.

  “Where are you going?” Melanie asked.

  “To get out more cups—for the tea. I didn’t realize how many of you there are.”

  “Don’t worry about the tea right now,” the young woman urged. “Sit down, please, so that I can introduce you to my friends.”

  “That one—” Winona pointed at Gabe. “He’s more than just your friend.”

  “Yes,” Melanie agreed. “This is my fiancé, Gabe.”

  Dorothea wasn’t surprised that Melanie didn’t offer his full name. The young woman had previously expressed concern that mentioning the Abernathy name too soon might trigger a negative response, and since no one else knew Winona well enough to even hazard a guess about her reaction, they consented to Melanie taking the lead.

  “I don’t think I knew you were engaged,” Winona said now.

  “It’s a fairly recent development.”

  “I’ll get you something nice,” the old woman promised. “A gift to celebrate your engagement.”

  “Speaking of gifts,” Melanie said, determined to get the conversation back on track. “I’ve brought something—or rather someone—for you.”

  Winona’s gaze moved around the room, finally settling on Evan. “He’s definitely handsome,” she said. “But a little young for me, don’t you think?”

  Dorothea didn’t know whether to laugh or cringe at the realization that her mother was checking out her grandson—Winona’s great-grandson.

  “And—” Winona frowned “—he looks familiar. Have we met before?”

  “I’m certain we haven’t,” Evan said.

  “You would remember,” his great-grandmother said. “I make an impression.”

  On one side of Evan sat Daphne, her lips pressed together to hold back a smile. On the other side was his sister, making no effort at all to disguise her amusement.

  “Let’s backtrack for a minute,” Melanie suggested as she knelt on the floor beside Winona’s chair and laid her hand over the old woman’s gnarled and wrinkled one. “Do you remember Josiah?” she asked gently. “Josiah Abernathy?”

  “I haven’t heard that name in...a lot of years,” Winona said quietly.

  “But you knew him, didn’t you? A long time ago?”

  She nodded slowly. “A lifetime ago. But—” her gaze darted around the room, no longer assessing but fearful now “—how do you know about my relationship with Josiah? No one’s supposed to know.”

  “It was a secret for a lot of years,” Melanie assured her. “Until Maximilian Crawford bought the Ambling A Ranch and his sons found an old diary hidden beneath the floorboards when they were renovating the homestead.”

  “Josiah kept a diary,” Winona said. “He liked to write down the things he said he couldn’t tell to anyone else.”

  “It was Josiah’s diary that they found,” Melanie confirmed. “And there was a letter, hidden inside the book’s lining, addressed to you.”

  “Josiah wrote a letter to me?” Winona’s eyes brightened at the possibility. “What did it say?”

  “You can see for yourself,” Melanie said, and handed her the page covered with faded handwriting.

  The old woman shook her head. “My eyes aren’t what they used to be, and Josiah always did have horrible handwriting,” she said. “Can you read it to me?”

  “Of course.”

  Dorothea took a step forward then, interrupting before Melanie could begin. “Actually, I think I’d like to read the letter to...Winona, if that’s all right.”

  Melanie nodded.

  As Dorothea stepped farther into the room, Gabe rose from his seat on the sofa—the spot closest to Winona, and gestured for Dorothea to take it.

  She did so, then focused her gaze on the letter Melanie passed to her and began to read.

  “‘My dearest Winona, please forgive me. But they say you will never get better. I promise you that your baby daughter is safe. She’s alive!’” Dorothea paused there for a moment, unexpectedly moved by the experience of reading her father’s letter to her mother, and almost completely undone by the tears that filled the old woman’s eyes.

  “My baby’s alive?” Winona sounded stunned.

  “Your baby’s alive,” Melanie confirmed.

  Dorothea managed to battle back the onslaught of emotion and continue reading. “‘I wanted to raise her myself, but my parents forced me to have her placed for adoption. She’s with good people—my parents don’t know, but I have figured out who they are. Someday, I will find a way to bring her back to you.’”

  Winona pressed a trembling hand to her lips. “My baby didn’t die.” The words were barely more than a whisper. “But he didn’t... Josiah didn’t bring her back to me.”

  “But she’s here now,” Melanie said.

  Dorothea leaned closer, and Winona turned to face her.

  “My name is Dorothea,” she said. “I’m...your daughter.”

  Daphne hadn’t been sure she should have made the trip to Rust Creek Falls with Evan. She didn’t want to intrude on what she knew would be an emotional reunion for his grandmother and her biological mother. She hadn’t expected it would be an emotional experience for her, too. But when Winona softly echoed her daughter’s name, with tears in her eyes, Daphne could hardly see through her own.

  Evan’s grandmother, obviously just as moved,
cleared her throat. “Most people call me Daisy.”

  “We were going to call you Beatrix,” Winona said. “But Dorothea—and Daisy—are pretty names, too.”

  Grandma Daisy managed a wobbly smile.

  Winona searched her daughter’s face, her gaze seeming to take in every feature. “You have his eyes,” she said now. “Not just the color, but the shape.” Then she looked at Evan again. “That’s why he looks familiar. He has Josiah’s eyes, too.”

  “That’s Evan,” Dorothea said. “My grandson. Your great-grandson.”

  “I have a great-grandson.” Winona marveled over the fact.

  “And a great-granddaughter, Vanessa,” Dorothea said, and Evan’s sister waved. “And a few other grandchildren and great-grandchildren, too.

  “And on the other side of Evan is Daphne—”

  “You don’t have to tell me about their relationship,” Winona said. “It’s obvious from their auras.”

  Daphne couldn’t help but laugh at that observation; beside her, Evan just looked baffled.

  “And this,” Dorothea continued, when Wanda carried a tea tray into the living room, “is my daughter—your granddaughter—Wanda.”

  “I’m...overwhelmed,” Winona said. “I didn’t think I had any family left.”

  “And now you’ve got more than you know what to do with,” Erica observed.

  The old woman nodded.

  “We’ll figure it out,” Dorothea told her, taking her mother’s hand. “Together.”

  “Can you tell me what happened to Josiah?” Winona asked. “Is he...gone?”

  Gabe was the most qualified person to answer that question, and he spoke up now to say, “He’s not gone, but he’s in the late stages of dementia.”

  Winona blinked back fresh tears as she focused on her daughter again. “Well, at least I can see him in you,” she said. “Even if I can’t see anything of myself.”

  “She might look like an Abernathy,” Melanie agreed. “But she’s got your gift of future sight.”