by A Western Family Christmas Christmas Eve; Season of Bounty; Cowboy Scrooge
A moment later—or was it an eternity?—she lifted her chin, knowing even as she did that she was inviting his kiss. She couldn’t help it.
‘Ah, Matty,” he whispered as his head dipped and his lips softly brushed against hers. “Matty, how I’ve wanted…”
His mouth closed over hers, stealing away what little breath she had left and kindling desires deep inside her that Matty thought were long put aside, if not entirely dead. Heat swept through her at the touch of his tongue on hers and the feel of his fine hands on her back, on her rib cage, on her breasts.
But then, as quickly as she realized her body was on fire, guilt rushed in to douse the flames.
“Stop it,” she hissed, pulling back from the kiss she still craved. Then, before she even knew she’d moved, her hand came up to slap the gambler hard across his cheek.
To Matty’s surprise, Will Cade didn’t even flinch, but took the blow as if it were his due. He stepped back, rubbing his face, regarding her with a certain wariness.
“Next time, Matty,” he said, “I’d appreciate it if you’d just tell me no instead of showing me. I know what the word means, I assure you.”
“There isn’t going to be any next time.”
She felt a flush of hot and shameful color rise to her face, knowing the kiss wouldn’t have happened at all if not for her silent assent, her unspoken invitation, her outright brazen behavior.
Will shook his head and murmured softly, “I wouldn’t bet on that, darlin’.”
“I wouldn’t bet on it, either,” she said, trying her best to sound as chilly and forbidding as the weather outside. “I’m not a gambler.”
The smallest of smiles flickered at the corners of his perfectly carved mouth and the green in his eyes glistened. “Are you so certain about that, Mrs. Favor?”
She stiffened and scowled as if the remnants of his kiss had turned sour upon her lips. “I’m very certain, Mr. Cade. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to find that licorice.”
Chapter Three
That night in the Gilded Steer, while Will squinted at his cards through a haze of cigar smoke, he came to the conclusion that—like Matty—he wasn’t really a gambler, either. At least not when it came to women. If he had been, by God, he wouldn’t have stopped kissing her this morning.
He couldn’t remember the last time a kiss had engaged his spirit as well as his body. Probably it was when he’d kissed Caroline goodbye before he went off to the war. He’d been with scores of women since then, and a few had set his body on fire, though none had rekindled his soul. Now, after all those long and spiritless years, that soul seemed to be stirring again.
Why did it have to happen with this particular woman? God knows he’d seen prettier women, and shapelier, too. He wondered if any of them would have had the courage or wits to step between him and a bounty hunter, conjuring up a dog named Pollifax to save him.
Why married Matty when the world was full of females who were unattached? Why did his con science have to come alive and keep reminding him that she belonged to someone else? Why bother wanting what he couldn’t have?
“You gonna play those cards you’re holdin’, Cade, or just sit there and stare at ’em?”
Will snapped out of his lovelorn trance, laid his pretty full house of queens and deuces on the table, and then raked in enough flimsy bills and change to pay for a few well deserved shots of rye and his evening meal.
“I guess that’ll do it for tonight, gents,” he said as affably as any winner could, stubbing out his cigar, and then pocketing the cash and pushing back his chair.
Across the table, young Ben Hagadorn was quick to protest when Will stood up. “Aw, stick around a while, Will. Come on. Please. Just a few more quick hands. Give me half a chance to win back some of my money.”
That wouldn’t happen if he sat back down this minute and played straight through till next July, Will thought. The Hagadorn kid was the worst damned card player he’d ever seen. You could read his every hand in the expressions on his face. He was wont to roll his eyes and moan “Aw, spit” when he failed to draw a third card to a pair, and the kid grinned like a lit pumpkin on a windowsill whenever a flush panned out or he filled an inside straight.
“Yeah. Stick around, Will.” Grizzled Vernon Foy aimed a stream of tobacco juice at a nearby spittoon, then laughed and said, “Young Ben here can’t get into any more trouble with his intended than he already is.”
Ben Hagadorn rolled his eyes and moaned. “Aw, spit. I’ll be lucky if I’m married before I’m ninety-five years old at the rate I’m going. That durned silver dresser set at Favors’ is so far out of my reach, it might as well be on the moon.”
“Sally wants that bad, don’t she?” Vernon said, shaking his head. “Wants it more’n you, young feller.”
Will’s curiosity was piqued at the mention of Matty’s store and her prized dresser set. “What’s this all about?” he asked.
Ben gave another hearty moan. “My girl, Sally, promised that she’d marry me as soon as I buy her that fancy silver set from the Favors’ mercantile. I guess you know which one I mean, Will, seeing as how you work there.”
Will knew exactly the one Ben meant in light of his aborted attempt to pilfer it the week before. The damned, frivolous, outrageously expensive thing had been sitting there for a year or more, gathering dust and tarnishing while it tied up assets that Matty could ill afford. When he’d asked her why she’d ordered it in the first place when nobody in town could afford it, she got all huffy and thin lipped.
“It’s really none of your business, but if you must know, I bought it because Charlie told me to,” she said. “Charlie knows exactly what he’s doing. He has a long-range plan. I won’t discuss it further.”
Will didn’t know about any long-range plans, but he knew if Matty sold the silly dresser set, there would be cash to invest in the much-needed new shelves, and maybe even enough left over to hire somebody to assist her in the store after he was gone.
By helping young Ben, he could help Matty in the bargain.
Helping. That was something he didn’t ordinarily do. He’d made it his business these past few years to stay out of other people’s way while he drifted from town to town. He rarely even knew the names of the men whose pockets he picked clean at cards, much less the ups and down of their love lives.
“It’s a handsome piece of merchandise,” he said. “It’ll make a fine wedding present, Ben.”
The young man rolled his eyes and gave a snort. “Sure. When my Sally’s ninety-three years old. Lord Almighty, I hope she’ll still have hair enough to brush by then.”
“And a face that won’t crack that fancy silver mirror,” Vernon Foy added with a laugh.
Will pulled out his pocket watch and stared at it thoughtfully. “It’s not as late as I thought. I’ve got time for a few more hands, I guess.”
He sat back down, wondering just how a card shark went about cheating on another man’s behalf. He supposed he’d learn as he went along.
“I’ll deal,” he said, flexing his fingers and reaching for the deck.
It was snowing the next morning as Matty trudged along the wagon tracks from her little house to the mercantile, muttering while she tried to keep her skirts above her ankles, slanting evil looks at the elegant new sign her competitor, Henry Diehl, had put up a month ago across the street. The red and gold letters, a foot high or more, fairly shouted that The
Emporium was a finer enterprise than the humble mercantile across the street.
It probably was, she thought with some disgust, gazing up at her own sign, which was definitely showing its age, not to mention the assorted ravages of Kansas weather. The sign’s white background had yellowed considerably and the black lettering was starting to flake. Maybe when the weather cleared, she’d have Will paint her a new one with those finely fashioned, graceful hands of his. Maybe…
Maybe she ought to quit dreaming. When the weather cleared, Will Cade would clear out of here so f
ast it would make heads spin and feminine hearts grow heavy from one end of town to the other. Besides, she couldn’t even afford the lumber or a pint of the paint or varnish it would take to fashion a fancy new sign. She couldn’t afford much of anything at all with Charlie forever advising her to stash the profits away.
Matty sighed as she unlocked the front door. It was still dark inside the mercantile and the air held a pronounced chill. Will hadn’t lit the lanterns yet or stoked a fire in the stove. In fact, Will was nowhere to be seen.
A sudden pain, sharp as a needle, pricked her heart. Was he gone? So soon? Before Christmas?
Without even taking off her cloak, Matty made a beeline for the counter and the cash box hidden there beneath the floorboards. She didn’t even bother with the file she normally used to pry up the loose board, and broke a fingernail in her haste. But the metal box was still there, thank God, and still heavy with its sacred, untouchable stash of double eagles—all six hundred and eighty dollars of them—that she’d methodically put away week after week, year after year.
So, miracle of miracles, Will Cade hadn’t stolen her blind before he’d gone away!
Matty slipped the cash box back into its cranny, covered it again and then sat there on the floor a minute, with her head bowed and her hands folded in her lap, feeling relieved and disappointed and foolish all at once. Her secret little fortune was secure, but what good was it when her store was falling down around her ears? What good was saving for some future rainy day when freezing rain was coming down right this very minute? What good was having feelings for a man who cared only for playing cards and moving on?
She might have sat there feeling sorry for herself all morning if it hadn’t been for a knock on the door. Now who in the world was that before she’d even opened up? Matty sighed as she rose and went to the door. If it was silly lovelorn Lottie again, looking for Will, there was going to be so much disappointment in the air, it would probably be visible—like a huge black cloud hovering over both of them right here inside the store.
It wasn’t Lottie, though. As soon as Matty opened the door, Ben Hagadorn bounded through it and nearly bowled her over as he headed toward the table where her prized dresser set was displayed. He picked up the hairbrush, held it over his heart, and said, “I’ll take it, Mrs. Favor. No need to wrap it.”
Matty blinked. She knew that Sally Garrison was yearning for the silver set, and that Ben had an equal, if not greater, yearning for the coquettish little blonde. But did he have the wherewithal to purchase it?
“I don’t take credit, Ben,” she said firmly, but still as kindly as she could.
“You don’t have to, Mrs. Favor.” He pulled off a glove, plunged a hand into his coat pocket and came up with a sheaf of bills, proudly waving them in Matty’s direction. “I’ve got it all right here. The whole darned seventy-five bucks.” He waved the bills harder while he grinned. “What a night! I was playing cards at the Gilded Steer and I couldn’t lose. I just plain couldn’t lose.”
The mention of gambling sent Matty’s mood plummeting again so that even the imminent prospect of recouping her investment in the dresser set didn’t cheer her.
“How lucky for you,” she said without much enthusiasm.
“Oh, I don’t know about luck,” he said while he gathered up the brush and comb and hand mirror. “I thought so at first, but after a while, I noticed there was a lot of winking and whispering going on around the table, and then it dawned on me that I was only winning when Will Cade was dealing the cards. It took a while, but when I’d finally won my seventy-five bucks about an hour ago, the fellas all yawned and laughed and wished me well and told me I’d be better off staying home with Sally from now on.”
The young man looked about the store. “Is Will here? I’d sure like to thank him.”
“No, he…”
“I’m here.”
Will’s Southern breeze of a voice preceded him down the stairs.
“And you can thank me by keeping out of places like the Gilded Steer in the future. Stay home with your Sally, young Ben. Play cribbage with your children and confine your wagering to matchsticks.”
While Ben Hagadorn laughed and said he had every intention of doing just that, Matty simply stared at Will.
He was here!
He hadn’t slunk off in the wee hours of the morning after all. She felt horrible for her earlier accusatory thoughts, but ashamed as she was, Matty couldn’t prevent a silly smile from moving across her lips, no more than she could keep her heart from leaping up into her throat or her stomach from dropping somewhere in the vicinity of her knees.
Will Cade was still here, looking handsome as the devil even if he did appear not to have slept more than a single wink the night before. His sandy hair strayed across his forehead above those deep green eyes that were now prominently etched with red. A day’s growth of beard shadowed his cheeks and jaw. The wrinkles in his gray wool suit hadn’t quite hung out overnight.
Oh, but he was beautiful, Matty thought. Not that beauty, male or female, in any way compensated for lack of character, she quickly reminded herself.
“Morning, Matty,” the gambler said softly, his gaze meeting hers now. There was something quizzical in his expression, as if he sensed her surprise at seeing him, as if her distrust wounded him somehow.
“Good morning,” she replied stiffly, doing her best to coax her heart and stomach back to their rightful places. “Ben tells me there was quite a card game last night. Or should I say this morning? I hope it won’t interfere with your work today.” She glanced meaningfully toward the unlit stove, and added “It’s chilly in here.”
“That it is,” he said, a hint of sarcasm in his voice and a glint in his green eyes. “And more than any firewood’s going to fix. Young Ben, if I were you, I’d hand my ill-gotten gains over right quick and take off with that fancy dresser set before Mrs. Favor decides not to sell it to you after all. She doesn’t much approve of gambling.” He aimed a knowing look at Matty. “Or gamblers.”
“Yes, sir.”
Ben Hagadorn practically vaulted over the tables between him and Matty, then slapped his sheaf of bills onto the countertop. “Here you go, ma’am. Seventy-five bucks. It’s all here. Every red-hot cent. No need to count it.”
He jammed the brush and comb and mirror into his coat pockets, then raced for the door before Matty even had time to pick up his money, much less begin to count it. But when she did gather up all the creased and crumpled bills, she couldn’t help but notice a little tremor in her hands. Thirty of these seventy-five dollars was pure, unadulterated, long-awaited profit.
It occurred to her then that with the very same wad of greenbacks, young Ben had bought himself not only a dresser set but a bride, too, and Matty was about to buy herself a brand new sign, all thanks to Will Cade’s dealing off the bottom of the deck.
She looked across the room where he was bent down, blowing into the stove to start the kindling.
“You’re a devious creature, Will Cade.” A little sigh broke from her lips. “That was nice, what you did for Ben and his Sally.”
He turned his head in her direction. An odd smile played across his lips before he spoke. “Now that you’ve turned a healthy profit, do you want me to get the lumber for those new shelves today? The good lumber?”
“Yes. Let’s get it. And paint and varnish for a new sign, too. A bigger sign than Henry Diehl’s.” She laughed. “I’m thinking of changing the name of the store, too, to something a bit more enterprising than plain old mercantile.”
He stood upright, brushing soot off his hands. “Sounds good to me.” Then he cocked his head. “Have you consulted Charlie about this?”
Matty blinked and sucked in a breath. No, she hadn’t! And she hadn’t planned to either because she knew that Charlie would tell her to salt the profit away for that confounded rainy day he was so fearful of. She wanted to decide this on her own.
The last time she’d made a decision without consulting
Charlie, though, was when she’d rescued Will from the clutches of Luther Killebrew, and despite the fact that the man was still here today, there was no guarantee that he wouldn’t be gone tomorrow. Or this afternoon. Along with her seventy-five dollars.
I’ll just go and get that lumber and paint now, he’d say, and then he’d never return.
Maybe his letting Ben win in the card game wasn’t charity for the lovelorn after all. Maybe it was a new and improved scheme for bilking the town without actually appearing to do so. The local gamblers would spend their ill-gotten gains in the mercantile, then Will would collect his loot from one convenient location, and no one would be the wiser or likely to send a bounty hunter after him.
Maybe behind that warm smile of his, Will Cade was laughing his head off at her.
Maybe she was the world’s biggest fool. She was sure that’s what Charlie would tell her if she dared consult him about Will.
“Never mind the sign,” she said, primly folding the bills Ben Hagadorn had given her and sliding them into her pocket. Later, when Will wasn’t looking, she’d stash them in her secret hiding place. “And never mind that lumber for the shelves, either. I like things just the way they are right now. And Charlie does, too.”
Chapter Four
It was a good thing Mrs. Charles Favor didn’t play poker for a living, Will thought, because every emotion she entertained promptly played across her pretty features like a banner headline on a newspaper. So far this morning she had been surprised, pleased, affectionate, excited, optimistic, cautious, then finally suspicious and downright distrustful. He didn’t think he’d ever seen a woman’s weather change the way hers did, or been so disappointed when a mood altered from warm spring to icy winter.
The sale of the dresser set that he’d hoped would delight her had only succeeded in making Matty glum. She had crammed Ben Hagadorn’s seventy-five dollars into her hidden cash box as soon as she thought Will wasn’t looking, and she didn’t want to hear a single word he had to say about the wisdom and the long-term benefits of reinvesting profits in her store. She was a smart woman, for God’s sake, but somehow her damned Charlie, in all his wisdom, had thoroughly convinced her that a dollar moldering in a cash box was worth far more than a dollar spent on any improvements.
