Bart wagged his tail and continued pressing his head against Filly.
“He was acting strange when I came up the walk, like he wanted attention,” Ginny said, trying to drag the dog back outside, but he refused to budge from his spot next to Filly.
“I guess he doesn’t want to go,” Filly said, taking a ham bone, still covered in meat, from the icebox and giving it to the dog. He plopped down by the stove and gnawed his treat. “Maybe he’s just cold. It is chilly out.”
“Maybe,” Ginny said, glad her mother wasn’t there to see the dog in the kitchen. Dora would pitch a royal fit.
Setting the table, Ginny turned around to see Filly once again white-faced and swaying on her feet.
Guiding her to a chair at the table, she got her a drink of water and a cool cloth for her face.
“Are you sure you shouldn’t go see the doctor?” Ginny asked, wondering when Luke would be home. If he saw Filly looking sick again, he’d probably carry her all the way to the doctor’s office despite any protest the woman might offer.
“I’ll be fine in a minute. Luke’s probably right. Things have been so busy trying to get ready for Christmas and your parents coming to visit and watching Erin. I’m sure I’ll be fine after the holidays,” Filly said, sipping the water and holding the cool cloth to her warm forehead.
“Well, you better hurry up and feel better, because Luke’s coming up the walk,” Ginny said, catching sight of her brother as he strolled up the back steps.
“I’ll be right back,” Filly said, getting to her feet and rushing from the room.
“No tattling, Bart,” Ginny said, looking at the dog as Luke came in the back door, humming a holiday tune.
“Hello, Ginny Lou! Did you have a good day?” Luke asked, removing his outerwear and looking around the kitchen for Filly. He noticed Bart with his bone and shook his head. “Bart, my boy, what are you doing in the house?”
“He ran in when I came back from the church and wouldn’t leave. Filly finally gave him a bone to get him out from underfoot,” Ginny said, removing the bread from the oven and setting the pan on the counter to cool.
“Is that right, Bart? Are you being a nuisance?” Luke asked, ruffling the dog’s ears.
Next to Filly, the dog was the best Christmas gift he’d ever received. Supposed to be a surprise for him Christmas morning the year they wed, Bart made such a ruckus from his hiding place off the kitchen, Luke discovered his gift a little early. He hadn’t minded though. He loved the dog and especially loved the girl who gave him the puppy.
Bart lifted his head and licked Luke’s hand before returning to his bone.
“I suppose that means no,” Luke laughed, deciding the dog wasn’t hurting anything by the stove. Washing his hands, he looked at his sister, concern beginning to etch lines across his forehead. “Where’s Filly?”
“She needed to… um… she’s just momentarily… indisposed,” Ginny stammered, avoiding eye contact with her brother as she began slicing the bread.
“Indisposed? What’s that mean, exactly? She’s not having another sick spell, is she?” Luke asked, throwing down the dishtowel on the counter and starting to march through the doorway leading to the rest of the house. “If she is, so help me, I’ll take her to…”
“To what, Mr. Granger?” Filly asked, putting a hand to his chest as she breezed back in the room.
“Are you well, Filly?” Luke asked, grasping her arms in his hands and staring into her beloved face.
“Fit as a fiddle,” Filly said, kissing his cheek and hurrying to set dinner on the table. “Now stop your fussing and tell me why your dog is behaving like a ninny.”
Luke laughed and glanced at Bart. The dog abandoned his bone and continued looking fretfully at the back door. “That I can’t explain.”
Seated around the cozy table with their hot meal, they all three lifted their heads at a loud knock sounding at the back door.
Luke opened it to find Blake, Mr. Jenkins, and two other farmers standing on the steps holding guns.
“Gentlemen,” Luke said, taking an uneasy step back to allow them to enter the kitchen. Bart barked and ran to Filly’s side, planting himself across her feet. “What’s got you out on a cold night like this?”
Blake removed his hat and tipped his head politely toward Filly and Ginny. “Our apologies for interrupting your fine dinner, Luke, but there’s been a little trouble with a cougar. He took down one of my colts this afternoon. I followed his tracks to Jenkins’ place. He’d already made a few kills the past several days at some of the outlying farms.”
Ginny’s hand went to her throat, thinking of a wild animal harming one of Blake’s horses. He loved them like they were part of his family. She glanced at Filly, who stared at the men wide-eyed while her fingers rubbed soothingly across Bart’s head.
“Did you lose his tracks?” Luke asked, shrugging into his coat and fastening the buttons.
“No. The reason we’re here is because the beast came around on the back side of town and his tracks lead out to the ridge above your cattle. We just wanted to let you know before you heard gunshots outside,” Blake said as the other men nodded.
“I appreciate that. If you give me a minute to saddle Drake and get my rifle, I’ll go with you,” Luke said, slapping his hat on his head before turning to Filly and kissing her cheek.
“Keep Bart in here with you. I don’t want him getting in the middle of something,” Luke said, looking at the two women before rushing out the door.
Jumping to her feet, Filly turned her attention to the men standing in her kitchen. “Would you gentlemen care for a cup of hot coffee while you wait for Luke?”
At their nods, Ginny poured coffee while Filly quickly filled slices of bread with meat and handed each man a sandwich.
Filling Blake’s cup last, Ginny brushed her fingers against his hand and gave him a look conveying both her sympathy and fear.
It took just a moment for Luke to hustle in the door, fetch his rifle and a revolver, and return to the kitchen.
“What are you gonna shoot with that revolver, Luke?” one of the men teased. “I don’t plan on getting that close to the beast, myself.”
“You never know,” Luke said, tightening the gun belt around his hips. “I’d rather be safe than sorry.”
Blake nodded his head at Luke, moving his coat to reveal the revolver he wore.
“Be careful,” Filly said, jumping to her feet and throwing her arms around Luke, ignoring the looks of the others as they ate their sandwiches. She kissed him on the lips then wrapped a scarf around his neck before he followed the other men outside.
Ginny hugged Filly, wishing she could have kissed Blake goodbye.
The two women decided dinner no longer held any interest for them. Putting away the food, they washed dishes in silence, interrupted by Bart’s occasional whine as he leaned against Filly.
“You’re a good dog, Bart. We should have known something was wrong when you wanted to stay inside,” Filly said, rubbing the dog’s head while sending up prayers for those outside to be safe.
The men decided to split into two groups. Jenkins and the two farmers rode up to the ridge where they’d spotted the cougar’s tracks while Blake and Luke rode out to where Luke had his cattle pastured.
“Your colt gonna make it?” Luke asked, grateful the moon was bright, otherwise they wouldn’t be able to see a thing.
“No,” Blake said, upset at losing the horse. It was always hard to lose an animal, but especially one he’d cared for and gentled since it was born. “The cougar crushed his throat. It was bad.”
“I’m sorry, Blake,” Luke said, hoping they could find the cougar before it killed anything else.
“Me, too,” Blake said, quietly.
He wasn’t much of a hunter, but he could shoot a gun when he needed to. Tracking the cougar had been easy with fresh snow on the ground. They all wondered why it came back toward town, other than Luke had a pasture full of big, fat cattle tha
t would be easy pickings.
From the vantage point of the ridge above them, the cougar could easily choose which target to hit and be on top of the animal before it knew what happened.
Riding through the evening quiet out to the edge of the herd, Luke and Blake refrained from speaking. Their attention focused around them, listening for any sound and watching for any movement that would signal the cougar was nearby.
Hoping to hear a telltale shot from the ridge, the evening remained eerily silent.
Blake glanced at Luke and he shook his head, agreeing that they should have heard something by now.
Watching Luke motion for them to ride in opposite directions around the cattle, Blake nodded and took off to the left. He hadn’t gone far when he heard a low growl. The impact of the cougar hitting his shoulder knocked him out of his saddle.
Heat and pain licked across his left arm as the animal’s claws ripped into the sleeve of his coat, tearing at his flesh.
Grasping the revolver strapped to his right hip, Blake fired twice into the chest of the writhing beast pinning him to the ground. With one more guttural growl, the cougar stilled.
“Blake! Blake!” he heard Luke call as he raced his direction. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine!” Blake yelled, trying to shove the creature off his chest so he could get to his feet. He felt the cougar dragged off his body and a hand reached down to help him stand. Grasping it in his right hand, he stood.
“Are you sure you’re fine?” Luke asked, trying to take in what happened by looking around him.
Blake nodded his head and studied the cougar. It was the biggest he’d ever seen. No wonder he felt like he’d been hit by a runaway wagon. Even in the moonlight, he could see huge paws and a massive head.
“Man alive, that thing is a monster,” Luke said, studying the animal. The sound of hoof beats let them know the other three men approached.
“We heard the shots. Looks like you got him,” Mr. Jenkins said, glancing from Luke to Blake.
“He’s dead, alright,” Luke said, noticing Blake clutching his arm. Trying to look at the wound, Blake pushed at his hand.
“It’s fine,” he said, his words slurring a little. Blake felt light-headed now that the excitement had passed. Looking at his arm, he could see something dripping into a puddle in the snow.
Blood. His blood.
“I think we better get you to Doc,” Luke said, turning to the other men. “Just so you know, Farley, Blake took him out with his revolver.”
“Well, I’ll be,” the man said, nudging the animal with the toe of his boot. “Guess you boys knew what you were doing.”
“Guess we did,” Luke said with a grin, looking around for Blake’s horse. He stood, nervously pacing by his own. Whistling for Drake, Samson followed and between Luke and Mr. Jenkins, they helped Blake mount.
“Let’s get you to the doctor,” Luke said, motioning toward the cougar as he began riding off with Blake. “Would you gents mind doing something with that thing?”
“Be happy to,” Mr. Jenkins said, tipping his hat at Luke as he and Blake rode toward town.
Filly and Ginny, who stood watching out the front window, saw two riders approach the house and ran out the door, Bart beside them.
“We heard shots. Did you find it?” Filly asked as Luke raised a hand her direction.
“Blake shot it. He wrangled with the cougar, so I’m taking him to Doc’s office,” Luke said as they rode by the house. “We shouldn’t be gone long.”
“My stars!” Ginny said, hurrying into the house to grab her coat then running back out the door, following the men. She ignored Filly’s calls to her to come back to the house.
Luke was helping Blake dismount when Ginny reached the doctor’s office, out of breath from her dash through town.
“Run inside, Ginny, and see if Doc’s around,” Luke said, nodding toward the door as Blake tried to shake off his supporting hand.
“Really, Luke, I’m perfectly fine,” Blake said, swaying as he took a step back toward Samson.
“Sure you are, but let’s have Doc confirm your diagnosis,” Luke said, sounding agreeable as he pushed Blake forward into the doctor’s office.
Ginny stood there with the doctor, staring at the torn fabric of Blake’s coat and shirt. Blood dripped on the floor and Doc quickly wrapped a towel around the wound.
“You just come on back with me, Blake. We’ll fix you up in no time at all,” Doc said, leading him toward an examination room. “Luke, I might need your help.”
“Wait here, Ginny, or go on home,” Luke said, patting her arm as he followed Doc down the hall.
Ginny sat for a few minutes in a chair, fidgeting. Standing to her full, diminutive height and rolling back her shoulders, she decided she had just as much right as Luke to provide assistance with Blake.
Marching into the room, Blake sat on an examination table, bare to the waist, sucking in his breath as Doc cleansed the wound and Luke supported his extended arm.
“Ginny, we told you to wait,” Luke cautioned, tipping his head toward the door. “Out.”
“I… um…” Ginny stuttered, completely distracted by the site of Blake’s bare chest and arm. She had no idea men were so… ruggedly appealing beneath their shirts. Strong muscles and golden skin looked like nothing she’d ever imagined seeing.
Growing up with a brother, she’d not seen him bare-chested since he and Chauncy outgrew their habit of stripping off their shirts and pretending to be wild Indians as young boys. No wonder girls went absolutely giddy over men who appeared to have muscles to spare, like the one currently sitting on the exam table with a face whiter than the snow outside.
Blake’s gasp when Doc began stitching up the wound drew her from her stupor. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“No,” Blake said, turning his head to meet her gaze. His eyes pleaded for her to stay even though his tone told her to go.
“In that case, I’ll just stand over here and distract the patient,” Ginny said, smiling brightly as she walked to Blake’s other side and began recalling silly things they’d done as children. Soon his thoughts were engaged in fun memories and not on the three deep claw marks the doctor stitched shut.
When he finished, Doc wrapped Blake’s arm in a bandage. Luke ripped off the torn, bloody sleeve of Blake’s shirt then helped him put it on while Doc gave him instructions for keeping the wound clean. He received the doctor’s orders to check back in a few days to make sure it was healing properly.
“Thanks, Doc,” Blake said, slipping back into his coat and placing his hat on his head.
“That arm is going to hurt for a few days, so just take it easy, son,” Doc said, looking at Luke. “It might be a good idea if he didn’t ride home to an empty house tonight.”
“He’ll stay at Granger House, of course,” Luke said, and Ginny nodded her approval of the idea.
“We’ll take good care of him,” she said, ignoring the frown Blake shot her from where he stood at the door.
“I’m sure you will,” Doc said with a chuckle. “Just give him a good meal and a warm bed and he’ll no doubt be fine tomorrow.”
“Yes, sir,” Luke said, opening the door and motioning for Ginny to lead the way. Luke took the horses by their reins and the three of them walked to Granger House. Blake should have ridden in his weakened conditioning, but his pride kept him from begging Luke to boost him onto his horse since he lacked the strength to pull himself up. Instead, he staggered along between Luke and Ginny.
While Luke put the horses in the barn, Ginny escorted Blake inside the house, insisting he go into the parlor and rest.
Removing his coat and hat, Ginny took them to the kitchen and hung them by the door then asked Filly if they could make a tray of food to take into the parlor for the men. Filly warmed food then arranged it on a tray while Ginny gathered things for tea and told Filly about Blake’s injury.
Luke came in the door as they picked up the trays.
&nbs
p; “Filly, darlin’, I’m starved half to death,” Luke said, hanging up his coat and washing his hands. Taking the tray from his wife, he planted a noisy kiss to her cheek and followed the two women to the parlor.
Blake sat in a chair close to the fire, his feet stretched out, head tipped back and eyes closed.
“Is he asleep?” Filly whispered.
“I don’t know?” Ginny whispered back, setting down her tray and bending over Blake. Leaning down, trying to see if he was still breathing, she yelped when he opened his eyes and kissed her cheek. Taking a quick step back, she tripped over a footstool and landed in an undignified heap on the sofa.
“I’m awake,” he said, sitting up with a muffled groan, staring at Ginny. Doc didn’t tell him his arm would feel like he’d pressed it into a pit of hot coals.
His whole body ached, but his arm seared with pain.
Accepting the food Filly set before him, he listened to Luke tell the women about the cougar jumping out of the dark and knocking Blake from his saddle.
“He shot the thing before I could even get my bearings,” Luke said, his voice filled with admiration.
Grinning, Blake took a drink of the spicy tea Ginny poured for him. It was good and tasted like Christmas.
Thinking of all the work he needed to finish before the fast approaching holiday, he hoped his arm wouldn’t bother him too much. Wishing he could be home in his own bed, he was grateful to Luke for offering him a place to stay for the night. Jenkins said he’d feed and water the stock on his way home so Blake wouldn’t have to worry about his animals.
“I wouldn’t mind if that is the first and last cougar I have to kill, at least at such close proximity,” Blake said, trying unsuccessfully to ignore the pain in his arm.
Ginny shivered, thinking about how close Blake came to being seriously hurt. She’d read accounts of men being killed by cougars. The thick white bandage wrapped around his upper arm stood in stark contrast to the tan skin that glowed in the firelight.
Forcing herself to look somewhere other than Blake’s bare, muscled arm, she turned her attention to the plate Filly held out to her.
The Christmas Token Page 15
