All a Cowboy Wants for Christmas

by Anthology

  The thought of anything marking her creamy ivory skin rattled him.

  “Smith!”

  He looked up at the command in her voice. A blush stained her cheeks. He’d embarrassed her. She had no idea why he was staring at her. As if her just standing there weren’t reason enough.

  “Sorry, hon—Caroline.”

  “What can I do for you?” she asked coolly.

  Put my ring back on your finger. Smith pushed away the thought and came back to what he’d learned from his parents. She could’ve died.

  He cleared his throat. “I heard you had surgery a year or so ago. Why didn’t you tell me the other night?”

  Wariness flickered in her eyes. She propped the broom against the wall and eased behind her desk, putting it between them. “It never crossed my mind. Seeing you, learning you were alive was the only thing I could take in.”

  He nodded, looking again below her waist. She’d needed him and he hadn’t been here. But Galloway had, damn him. Smith’s grip tightened on his hat. “What happened?”

  Her eyes darkened with some unidentifiable emotion. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, were you sick? Did it come over you all of a sudden? Were you in pain? How did you know something was wrong?”

  The blood drained from her face and Smith thought she swayed. She curled her hands over the back of her straight-back chair.

  What had he said to make her look like that? Concerned, he took a step toward her. “Caroline?”

  “One day, I was hit with a sharp pain.” Her voice was low, shaky. “Stephen checked me and said something had burst.”

  “Your appendix?”

  “What?” For an instant, she seemed startled. Almost as if she weren’t sure what he was talking about. “Yes, my—that.”

  Her gaze dropped, a flush crawling up her neck. He figured her unease was due to talking about such things—ladies didn’t—but he wanted to know.

  “Stephen had to do surgery,” she continued.

  Smith was glad their friend since childhood had taken care of her, but her close call gnawed at him. “Ma and Pa said you almost died.”

  “Yes, but I didn’t.” She gave him a forced smile. “I’m fine now.”

  So why did she appear fearful? Surely she wasn’t afraid of him?

  Smith realized he was crushing his hat and relaxed his grip. “I heard Galloway helped you through it.”

  “Della, too. And William Dorsett.”

  “Is that when you fell in love with Galloway?” That bitter rage began to simmer again.

  She studied him for a moment. “That’s why you’re really here, isn’t it? To talk about Ethan.”

  “I’m here because I just found out you nearly died,” he bit out.

  “But you want to know about Ethan. You can’t accept that I have feelings for him.”

  Feelings? She was supposed to love the man.

  Smith moved closer. “After the way you kissed me, you can see why I have doubts.”

  “I explained about that.” She held the chair to her as if it were a shield. Did she feel she needed to protect herself? “You took me by surprise. And besides it didn’t even feel real.”

  “Felt real to me,” he said flatly. “Every damn kiss.”

  She turned bright pink.

  The question was out before Smith knew he was going to ask it. “Does it feel real when you kiss Galloway?”

  “Smith.”

  “Does it?”

  She looked down. “I think you should go.”

  Yeah, he probably should, but he couldn’t. Especially now that one insidious thought popped into his mind.

  Where all had Galloway put his mouth, his hands on Caroline?

  Though the idea of it was sheer torture, Smith had to know. Just the possibility that she might have been intimate with the other man spurred a black viciousness inside him. Particularly because he and Caroline had come close a couple of times, but agreed to wait because their wedding was so near.

  Well, that had never happened. Maybe he should’ve just taken her before he left on that damn cattle trip. If he had, she wouldn’t have been able to move on so easily. So completely.

  Searching her fine-boned features, Smith clenched his fists. The words felt dragged out of him. “I want to know if you’ve given yourself to him.”

  She drew in a sharp breath.

  “Caroline?” he pressed sharply.

  Her eyes narrowed. “That’s none of your affair.”

  It should’ve been, though. Smith should’ve been her first, her only. Had thought he would be. He’d been so sure of her feelings for him and now it appeared he’d been mistaken.

  Suddenly he felt weary and spent. Alone. “Did you ever love me?”

  “Yes.” She shifted, looking uncomfortable. There was no denying the agony in her green eyes. “Of course.”

  He moved forward until he stood at the corner of her desk. Close enough to feel her body heat, to draw in her soft vanilla scent. “I thought you’d always be mine.”

  “I thought you were dead.” She sounded choked. “I had to move on.”

  “That’s what I keep hearing.”

  “I didn’t do it to hurt you.” Eyeing him warily, she backed up a step. “You should try to move on, too.”

  “Why?” His voice lashed at her. “So you won’t feel guilty about doing it yourself?”

  “I have no reason to feel guilty.” Her eyes didn’t quite meet his and her chin quivered.

  The anger that had been bubbling inside him boiled over. “I reckon it might take me a day or two longer to get over you than it took you to get over me.”

  Pain flared in her green eyes, hitting him with instant regret and that blistered him up, too.

  “I’ve seen you with Galloway,” he ground out. “You aren’t in love with him.”

  “Smith—”

  “You aren’t. I just don’t know why you’re saying you are.”

  Her gaze lifted to his and she said in a trembling voice, “What matters is that I’m not in love with you.”

  The soft, ragged words bored right through him like a spike, cut off his breath. Had she really said that? She had. And she meant it, he realized with a sinking heart as she angled her chin at him and met his gaze.

  Hell, he couldn’t breathe for the crushing pain in his chest. Numb now, he settled his hat on his head and turned to leave.

  “I won’t bother you again.”

  She said his name, but he walked out and closed the door. On her, on the memories, on their past.

  He stood for a moment on the landing, his head as fuzzy as if he’d had one too many at the Trail Dust Saloon, yet it was all due to Caroline.

  He couldn’t imagine being with anyone except her, but they were finished. She was with someone else now. Someone she planned to marry.

  Hell. He might not be convinced of her feelings for Galloway, but he was damn sure convinced of her feelings for him. There were none.

  * * *

  Caroline almost went after him.

  What matters is that I’m not in love with you.

  The brutal words made her wince. She didn’t want to hurt him, but she had moved on. He should, too.

  From the corner of her eye, she caught a movement out the window. Tears blurring her vision, she walked over. She couldn’t help herself. Sunlight glittered on the icy ground and hit the glass. Smith limped past with William Dorsett.

  Suddenly the two males stopped and William pointed to a spot behind the school.

  Pulse jumping, she stepped to the side in case one or both of them turned around. William said something and Smith cocked his head toward the boy. His tall frame dwarfed the lad’s, his dark hat casting a shadow over William’s homespun brown cap.

  What were they talking about?

  After a few moments, the pair of them angled behind the school. William lived back there in a small house with his mother. Was that where he and Smith were going?

  The need to find out was
strong, as strong as the one urging her to go after her first love and tell him...what? That she hadn’t meant what she’d said? She might wish she hadn’t chosen the words she had, but she had meant them. Hadn’t she?

  She turned away from the window and gathered her things.

  * * *

  In the days that followed, Caroline put all her energy and attention on her students. It was a flat-out effort to erase the image of the raw hurt in his eyes, the heaviness in her chest. She was so focused on not thinking about Smith that it took her a few days to register that there was a problem with William.

  For the third time in as many days, she stood over his desk shaking him awake. Dark circles under the boy’s eyes and his drawn features gave clear evidence that he was exhausted. Instead of eating lunch or roughhousing outside with the other boys during recess, he had fallen asleep at his desk.

  She realized now this behavior had started at the start of the week. When she dismissed school that afternoon, he was out of the room before anyone else. She called him back, closing the door after the others had gone.

  She walked to her desk and he followed. He yanked off his cap, his sandy hair sticking up in spikes. “Miz Curtis?”

  “Is everything all right, William?”

  Blue eyes watched her carefully and he seemed to brace himself. “Ma’am?”

  “The lessons you’ve turned in this week have been sloppily written,” she said gently. “And you did poorly on your history exam today. That has never happened.”

  His neck reddened. “I’m sorry, Teacher. I’ll do better.”

  “You haven’t been yourself. Your studies are suffering.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “I’m concerned, William,” she said in a soft voice.

  He looked down at the floor, scuffing one worn boot across a crack in the planked floor.

  She put a hand on his shoulder. “Things aren’t fine with you. You look exhausted. Is there trouble at home?”

  “No!” His head jerked up and tension coiled in his small body. “No, ma’am.”

  “I’m not scolding you.” She eased down on the corner of her desk. “I want to help you.”

  “I’m doing some extra work,” he mumbled, digging the toe of his boot into the pine floor. “To buy, uh, for Christmas.”

  Caroline smiled. “I admire that, but it’s taking too much of a toll. I can’t imagine your mother approves. Does she know?”

  “No, ma’am.” The words seemed startled out of him. “Um, I want to surprise her.”

  Caroline might have believed him if he hadn’t sounded choked. Something was going on, but what? “What kind of work are you doing? Sweeping up at Whitaker’s? Are you still feeding horses for Mr. Peterson at the livery?”

  “Yes, ma’am, I’m still helping at the livery and I’ve been working for Mr. Jennings at the Diamond J.”

  She went still inside. “Smith or his father?”

  “Smith. Well, sometimes his ma and pa, too. I do whatever needs to be done.”

  “I see.” The boy was pale and he looked as though he’d lost weight. “How often? Every day after school?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “How long do you stay out there each day?”

  He gave her an odd look. “Till the chores are finished.”

  “Is that usually after dark?”

  He nodded.

  She stiffened. Smith was working the poor kid into the ground. “That’s too much.”

  “I really need the job.” His voice cracked as he said earnestly, “I’ll work harder at my studies, Miz Curtis.”

  “You’re already working hard.” Too hard. His mother needed to know what was going on.

  Caroline rose and went over to bank the stove. “I’ll walk you home.”

  He paled, his eyes huge in his elfin face. “Why?”

  “To talk to your mother.”

  “You can’t.” At her sharp look, he amended, “I mean, please don’t.”

  He crushed his hat in his hands and she noticed that the sleeves of his coat were too short. They rode well above his wrists. “Please don’t tell my ma.”

  “William, you’ve done nothing wrong, but you also shouldn’t be working so many hours after school. Your mother should be made aware.”

  “But—”

  “William.” Caroline pulled on her cape and gloves. “Douse the lanterns, please.”

  Looking defeated, he extinguished the one hanging behind her desk then the one on the adjacent windowless wall. “I’ll talk to her. I promise I will.”

  Caroline opened the door, waiting. As they walked down the steps, she asked, “Is there some reason you don’t want me to speak with your mother?”

  He hesitated a moment then said in a rush, “She’s feeling poorly. I swear I’ll do better. I swear, Teacher.”

  The boy was truly afraid he would get in trouble. They walked behind the school and toward his small frame house.

  She smiled down at him and patted his shoulder. “It will be all right, William. Perhaps you can do some chores for me. I’ll pay you.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he mumbled.

  “I’m sure we can figure something out with your mother.”

  They reached the house. Leaves and clumps of dirt were scattered across a porch usually swept clean.

  Just as Caroline raised her hand to knock, William jumped in front of her.

  “Let me go in and see how she is.”

  She frowned. “Very well.”

  The boy opened the door only enough to slip inside. Before the door shut, she glimpsed dirty dishes on the table and an overturned basket of clothes on the floor.

  He came right back out. “She’s sleeping. I’m not supposed to wake her.”

  How sick was Helen? “Maybe we should get the doctor.”

  “No!” At Caroline’s frown, he said, “I— We can’t pay.”

  “Dr. Miller wouldn’t charge you.”

  William’s jaw set. “Ma wouldn’t like it.”

  Was this a matter of pride or something else? Caroline wondered. She studied him for a moment, struck by how desperate he seemed to keep her from talking to his parent. She didn’t want to embarrass the woman or her son, but the subject of William’s extra work at the Diamond J needed to be addressed.

  “Very well.” Relief crossed his young face until she said, “Let’s go talk to Smith—Mr. Jennings.”

  A look of horror flashed through William’s blue eyes.

  Caroline had only said that to gauge his reaction, but now she knew something was definitely going on. She was going to see Smith.

  He was working the boy too hard and Mrs. Dorsett appeared in no shape to deal with the situation.

  Smith wouldn’t want to see her and for a moment, Caroline considered not going, but this wasn’t about him.

  Thirty minutes later, she had changed into her split skirt and ridden out with William. The boy’s mule plodded alongside her so Caroline kept her mare to a slow walk as they crossed the wintry, hilly landscape.

  Evergreen trees glittered with ice as did the trunks of the bare mimosa trees that lined the banks of Mimosa Creek. They rode across Diamond J land for a few minutes before seeing the barns then the house at the bottom of the rise. They passed a large corral full of horses before they reached the massive barn that stood closest to the sprawling ranch house.

  Icicles dripped from the eaves and the sill of the big picture window at the front of the house. She and William dismounted at the barn and she followed the boy inside. Her eyes slowly adjusted to the dimmer light of the lanterns hanging on three walls.

  Smith stood beside a black mare, bent over her left rear hoof with his back to the door.

  Without looking up, he said, “William, we lost a cow. Her calf is in the last stall, feeding from a mama cow who recently lost her baby. Check on them and see how it’s going.”

  Smith’s typically smooth deep voice sounded rusty and hoarse. Caroline’s gaze skimmed over his wide shoulde
rs and the big hands cradling the horse’s hoof. Hands she knew were gentle and soothing.

  Stop. She gave herself a mental shake and started to announce herself. Before she could, William cleared his throat.

  “Um, Mr. Jennings?”

  Smith lowered the horse’s leg and turned, the openness on his face disappearing when he saw Caroline. Surprise flashed across his handsome features before they hardened and his eyes went flat. Flinty. He seemed to stare right through her.

  Involuntarily her gaze went to his mouth. All she could think about was him kissing her the other night. The hunger, the heat. The need.

  Kissing was definitely not on his mind, she realized as his eyes narrowed.

  “What do you want?” His voice was clipped.

  William seemed surprised at the older man’s brusque tone.

  Caroline wasn’t. “I need to speak to you. Alone, please.”

  He hesitated, which irritated her. Finally he nodded.

  She glanced at William then back at Smith. “Perhaps outside?”

  Smith’s gaze flickered to the boy who slowly started toward the back stalls.

  Her student looked worried and she gave him a reassuring smile as Smith limped past her. She followed, noting that his dark shirt didn’t seem as loose as it had before. It emphasized his broad shoulders and strong back. Unable to help herself, her gaze moved over his backside then his sleek powerful legs.

  The sight of him filled up an emptiness inside her that she hadn’t known she had. With a shock, she realized that she had missed him.

  His limp might make him move slower, but that just gave her more time to study him. She wondered what his bad leg looked like. She wanted to see for herself. Was it scarred? Twisted? Her throat ached at the thought.

  How many times had she prayed he would come back? Now he had.

  Reaching the side of the barn, Smith turned, his dark eyes flat and remote. He looked like a stranger—hard, rough.

  She should’ve been intimidated. Instead her blood hummed with excitement. And awareness. On the cold air, she caught a scent of clean male sweat and horseflesh.

  It was a struggle to focus on the reason she’d come. She licked her lips, her stomach fluttering when his gaze lingered there.