Christmas at Archer Ranch

by Cindy Caldwell

  She jumped as the door burst open, the dark mahogany bouncing against the wall as Beau Archer entered, his arms full with a large wooden box.

  “Oh, Mr. Archer, let me help you.” She tried to push herself up from the chair to help but gave up after a moment and sat back down as he glared at her.

  “Don’t you dare, Sadie. Tripp would have my hide. I promised to keep you off your feet, safe and warm, and I’ll keep my promise, thank you very much,” he said as he placed the box by the fireplace. He took his handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his brow as he sat opposite to her and slowly caught his breath.

  “I truly would prefer to help,” she said quietly as she glanced at the box. “Christmas” was written on the side of the crate in large, penciled letters.

  “Well, if Hank were here he’d be the one to carry up the Christmas boxes. Guess we’re both doing our part with them gone,” he said, smiling down at her as he stood. “Problem is, he’s the one who stored all this last year and I’m not sure where he put it. The girls will have my hide if I can’t find that nativity scene.”

  He paced in front of the fireplace, his hands behind his back. “That nativity scene was Katie’s favorite, and she always put the baby Jesus in the manger on Christmas morning, and if I don’t produce it—well, the girls...”

  His frown belied his concern about only how the girls would take it if he couldn’t find it. Sadie knew that Beau missed Katie more than he’d share, and she suspected he was just as worried that the nativity scene in question wouldn’t be located for himself, as well.

  “I could help you look,” she suggested, her hands on the arm of the chair.

  “No, young lady. If you don’t mind what I say I might just have to put you under lock and key,” he said as he crossed over to her, his hands on her shoulders so that she’d stay seated.

  Sadie smiled at his kindness. She did wish she could help, but probably shouldn’t. As soon as Clara arrived, she’d go lay down in the casita and see if she could rest a bit. That sounded quite appealing, actually.

  “Oh, good. You found them,” Maria said as she entered the parlor, wiping her hands on her apron. As she looked at the box, her eyebrows rose and she glanced at Mr. Archer. “Where are the rest of the boxes?”

  “Uh, I have them all ready to bring up from the stables,” he said, winking at Sadie. “Not to worry. I have everything under control,” he said over his shoulder as he headed back out the front door.

  Maria crossed her arms and looked out the window after him. “He doesn’t know where they are, does he?” she said as she turned toward Sadie, her smile wide.

  “Um, I’m not certain,” Sadie said as she averted her gaze. The last thing she wanted was to be part of an Archer family ruckus.

  “Hm,” Maria said. “You’re just like the girls, covering for each other and for him.” She laughed and pushed some escaping hairpins into the black bun secured at the back of her neck.

  Maria pinched her cheeks as she looked in the mirror, and Sadie noticed that she truly was a handsome woman. She wondered why she’d never had a family of her own, but she certainly didn’t know her well enough to ask. She was charming, a fantastic cook, and so very, very kind to her and everyone who visited Archer Ranch. She also was straightforward, a trait that Sadie had come to realize was much more common in the lovely women she’d met from Mexico rather than those who’d come from back east. With the exception of Mrs. Allen, of course, who always spoke her mind, which Sadie found curious and rather refreshing.

  Maria caught Sadie’s eye in the mirror and smiled, the lines around her eyes crinkling as she did. She turned and crossed over to Sadie, reaching for her hand.

  “Clara should be back shortly. I know she wants you to stay in the casita with her. It’s so lovely that you two old friends can have some time together before the baby comes.” She stopped and cocked her head, meeting Sadie’s eyes. “I know you’re nervous, little one, but Clara will be with you and we will all be just next door, Sage included. Nothing to worry about.”

  She squeezed Sadie’s hand before pulling her up to her feet.

  “Come into the kitchen where it’s warm. I’ll make you some tea while we wait for Clara—and for her father-in-law to return with the nativity scene,” Maria said as she glanced out the window. “And he’d better hurry up with it or he’ll have a mutiny on his hands.”

  She smiled and offered Sadie her arm. Sadie balanced herself, and looped her arm through Maria’s and followed her into the kitchen, which still smelled of tamales and meat pies ready for their imminent Christmas celebration.

  Chapter 7

  “So, who’d have thought a year ago that we’d both be married by the next Christmas?” Tripp said as he slid down from his horse. The ride had taken longer than they’d thought and they’d need to make camp for the night, and Tripp was glad he’d had the forethought to pack enough provisions. All the years on the trail were emblazoned into his memory, and he knew that you could never count on things going according to plan.

  Hank scouted for firewood as Tripp arranged rocks in a circle, something at least to heat up the beans he’d brought. It wasn’t much, but he and Hank had done this so many times that anything would be all right for one night.

  Tripp reached in his pocket for his knife, the one he’d used for so many years to open tins when he’d needed to. He set to opening the can of beans and laughed as Hank threw another piece of wood into the circle of stones he’d made.

  “Canned beans? That’s the best you could do?” he said as he nudged Tripp’s knee with his boot. “You’re going to ruin your reputation as the best trail cook this side of the Mississippi.”

  Tripp glanced at him from under the brim of his hat as the fire caught, the flames illuminating Hank as he shoved his hands in his pockets.

  “Hm. Things have changed since then, I’m afraid,” he said as he pushed himself up and reached into his saddle bags. “I wouldn’t leave you hanging with only canned beans. You know better.”

  Hank’s grin spread as he reached out for the meat pie Sadie had insisted Tripp bring along for the ride. They were easy and portable, she’d said. She was right, and Tripp’s heart tugged at her love and concern, taking care of him and Hank even out here in the middle of nowhere.

  The stars shone bright as the men finished their supper and laid out their bedrolls. The fire still glowed as they lay back and both looked at the stars. Out here in the desert, halfway between Tombstone and Mexico, there were more stars in the sky than black. Tripp missed this part of being on the trail, and his thoughts turned to bigger things.

  “Hank, you ever thought about being a pa?” he said quietly, interrupting Hank’s intermittent snores as the fire dimmed.

  “Huh? Well, I guess I have. It just happens, doesn’t it? For all of us.”

  Tripp smiled. “I’m not going to have that conversation with you. No, it doesn’t just happen.”

  “You know what I mean,” Hank said as he rolled his extra blanket into a pillow and placed it behind his head on the rock behind him. “I mean, babies come. Ready or not.” He set his hat on the ground beside him and turned to his friend. “What’s on your mind, Tripp?”

  Tripp sat up and scooted closer to the fire, blowing into his hands. Coyotes howled in the distance, and he placed another log on the fire as he gazed into the flames.

  “I guess I hadn’t thought much about this before...well, before I met Sadie. I just wanted what I wanted, and since I had to get married to get that loan and Sadie was willing to help me—it just happened.”

  Hank sat up and wrapped his arms around his knees. “I guess I see what you’re saying. We spent so much time on the trail, fetching cattle, there wasn’t really much time to think about what we were gonna do later.”

  “Right. I guess I figured we’d always just do that. And after that horse threw me and it was too hard to ride all the time and sleep on the ground—well, I hadn’t thought about what else I’d do.”

 
Hank reached in his pocket and took out his knife, reaching for a piece of wood. He started to whittle the tip and slowly turn the branch into a poking stick. “I suppose I never thought I’d get married, either. Inheriting that property and sending for Clara changed my life, too.”

  Tripp smiled and clapped Hank on the shoulder. “Guess neither one of us had any right to expect we’d end up happy with the way things started for both of us. Mail order brides,” he said as he laughed and looked up again at the stars.

  “Yep,” Hank said as he finished his task and used the stick to stir the coals of the fire, tossing on another log to last for the night. “So now that the baby’s coming, what’s different? Not happy?”

  Tripp pushed himself to his feet and paced beside the fire, the flames casting shadows against the scrub bushes that surrounded them. He looked up as the horses whinnied, then settled back down. The coyotes moved away from them and the howls became faint.

  “I guess what I’m trying to say is all of this just happened. And now that the baby’s coming, I’m realizing I don’t know the first thing about being a pa.”

  Hank stood and pulled his coat around him. He rested a boot on a large stone encircling the fire and shoved his hands on his pockets against the cold. “I know you didn’t have too good an example before you came to live with us, brother.”

  Tripp breathed deeply as he warmed his hands by the fire. No, he hadn’t. The first thirteen years of his life had been tough, and his no-account pa had drug him around the American southwest from saloon to saloon. He’d cheated at cards best he could at every stop, and Tripp had waited in the boarding house, keeping him fed until they had to pull up stakes—frequently in a hurry—and head to the next town. It hadn’t been until they’d reached Tombstone and his pa had stayed long enough for Tripp to get a job that the madness had ended.

  “No, I didn’t. And I am grateful every day that when my pa insisted we leave once again, you stepped in and offered me a place to stay.”

  Hank stomped his feet and glanced up at his friend. “That was a lucky day for us, too, brother.”

  Tripp looked up quickly and met Hank’s gaze, nodding as he smiled. “Thanks for that, Hank. But the closer it gets to the baby’s arrival, the more I realize what I didn’t learn from my pa. What if I’m no good at this?”

  Hank threw one more log on the fire and crouched beside the fire pit as the flames reached for the sky. “Hadn’t thought of that myself,” he said slowly.

  “Can’t think of anything else these days,” Tripp said quietly.

  Hank stood and crossed over to Tripp. “Well, I’d bet I’d be feeling the same way if I was in your spot,” he said as he rocked back on his heels. “But I can tell you one thing, with absolute certainty.”

  “What’s that?” Tripp asked as he looked up at his friend, his brother.

  “You’re one of the finest men I’ve ever met. I’m sure you’ll know exactly what to do. And Pa’s had seven kids and at least a few of them are all right. If he can do it, we can, too.”

  Tripp laughed at Hank’s joke about his sisters. He knew a few of the girls could be a thorn in his side. And he was right—Beau Archer was a fine father, had been for him, too, and he was certain he’d be available for advice.

  “I guess you’re right. I’m not the first man to have a baby and not exactly know what to do with it.”

  Hank laughed as he laid back down on his bedroll. “That’s the truth, brother. That baby’s coming whether you think you’re ready or not, so we might as well get some shut-eye and get back as soon as we can. Sadie’ll have your hide if the baby comes before we get back.”

  Tripp laid down and glanced up at the stars once more. “Hank?” he said quietly before he’d started snoring again.

  Hank groaned and rolled over. “Go to sleep, Tripp. It’s gonna be fine.”

  Tripp pulled his blanket up to his chin, his last thoughts of Sadie. She’d seemed fine when he’d left, and he wondered if she worried about the same things he did.

  He rolled over and closed his eyes, willing sleep to find him. Hank was right. The baby was going to come no matter what, and he couldn’t wait to meet his son or daughter. He’d just have to hope he’d know what to do when the time came.

  Chapter 8

  Dust rose on the horizon as Hank and Tripp approached the Estrella Vista Ranch, just over the border into Mexico. The hills surrounding the town of Nogales had been simple to navigate, and they’d done it many times before, but Tripp pulled up his horse as the crested the last one, the view into the desert beyond stunning.

  “Big land out here,” Hank said as he pulled his horse to a stop beside Tripp. He squinted, and pointed to the dust on the horizon. “From what Pa said, that’ll be the ranch. Said it belonged to an old friend of his.”

  He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a sealed envelope. “Guess I’m supposed to deliver this to somebody named Diego, if we run into him. Pa wasn’t sure he was still here, but I suppose we ought to keep our eyes peeled anyway.”

  “All right,” Tripp said as he nudged his horse down the slope. “Let’s get this going.”

  Tripp pulled his hat down against the bright winter sun and whistled, his horse cantering at the urging of his rider.

  It didn’t take too long to get to the bottom of the hills and into the desert, and the men pulled up outside broad, white stucco pillars. The peered over the iron gate, the large metal sign above signaling they’d reached their destination, Estrella Vista Ranch.

  “Star View. That seems about right,” Hank said as he turned and looked at the terrain—mountains in the distance behind them and nothing but rolling desert ahead.

  A long, rambling stucco hacienda stretched out behind the gate, much like the one at Archer Ranch. Ranch hands in chaps and women in colorful skirts bustled with activity, and Hank whistled to get their attention, waving his hand as an older man, his hair graying at his temples, headed toward them.

  “Hola, senor,” he said with a wide smile. “Are you from Archer Ranch, here for the burros?”

  Tripp nodded, returning the man’s friendly smile. “We sure are. We should have been here yesterday but got caught in the dark, and since we’d never been here before we decided to hunker down for the night.”

  “Ah, wise men, I see. Better to be late than lost forever in the desert.”

  The man opened the gate wide, gesturing to a stable on the north end of the compound. “Jorge will take care of your horses—feed and water, over at the stable. Meet me at the hacienda and we’ll do the same for you before we set out for Tombstone.”

  “Thank you,” Hank said as he tipped his had at the older man. “I’m Hank Archer, and this is Tripp Morgan.”

  The older man nodded in return. “My name is Diego Castillo. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I was a friend of your father’s, many years ago.”

  Tripp smiled at the man as he took in the stately gentleman. He was donned in typical Mexican ranchero attire, a crisp white shirt and black vest, pants and boots. His black hat was banded in silver, and his skin face bespoke many years out in the sun. His kind eyes showed of much laughter, and Tripp liked him immediately. Of course he would be friends with Beau Archer—their countenance was very similar.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Don Castillo,” Hank said as he reached into his pocket. He glanced at Tripp. “Guess we can make our delivery.” He extended the envelope toward Señor Castillo and nodded. “Pa asked I give this to you.”

  Señor Castillo took the envelope with a weathered hand, his fingertips brushing over the ink on the front. His eyes clouded, his expression wistful. “It’s been many years since I’ve seen or heard from your father. How is your mother?” he asked as he settled the envelope inside his coat pocket.

  Hank cleared his throat and looked at Tripp.

  “Mrs. Archer passed away a few years ago,” Tripp answered, sparing his friend the painful response.

  Señor Castillo stiffened and shook his head. “I’m
sorry to hear that. Katie Archer was one of the finest ladies I’ve ever had the pleasure to meet. My sympathies,” he said as he clicked his heels together and nodded toward Hank. “I’ll have refreshments for you in the main house as soon as your horses are settled.”

  He turned and headed toward the house as Hank said to Tripp, “Thanks for that.”

  “We all miss her, Hank. But sometimes it’s harder than others, I know.”

  They unsaddled their horses, handing the reins over to the stable hand and headed toward the main house, where Señor Castillo had pointed. They passed a large pen, filled with small burros, on their way. “Guess that’s the merchandise in question,” Hank said as he gestured toward it with his thumb.

  Tripp’s eyes widened as he looked at the small animals. “Hope they can travel at least as fast as cattle,” he said, hoping he was right. They’d already stayed one night longer than he’d hoped they would and they’d need another layover on the way back, even if these burros could travel as quickly as cattle. Sadie was on his mind, and he wanted to be back as soon as possible.

  “I’m sure she’s fine, Tripp,” Hank said, as if he knew what Tripp had been thinking.

  “I suppose, but I sure wouldn’t mind if we got this show on the road.”

  The warmth of the hacienda was welcome, and Tripp rubbed his hands together and held them close to the roaring fire in the kiva fireplace—almost exactly like the one at Archer Ranch. He looked around the room slowly. “This looks a lot like your house, Hank,” he said as he took in the dark wood and saltillo tile floor.

  Hank removed his hat and held it over his chest as he looked up and around. “It sure does.”