A Texas Christmas

by Thomas, Jodi Jodi Thomas

  Anna knew to argue with her would do nothing but delay the inevitable. The teacher could be more stubborn than she at times. “Who all is downstairs?” Anna asked cautiously, needing to know from which direction she should expect all the impending daggers. “I thought I saw Cloris and Tinnie. And isn’t that Izora Beavers I hear singing now?”

  “You do,” Marjorie confirmed. “And she’s none too pleased that you’re here. That look she gave you when you came in could have melted the Rockies.”

  “Bless her front pew heart. She does hate my guts.” Anna unrolled her wet stockings and sighed with relief as she peeled them off. “Ooh, that feels so much better.”

  “You should have never told her to quit sending her son in to your saloon.” Marjorie reached out and tugged on Anna’s braid. “You little sinful snot.”

  “The saloon is no place for a kid, I don’t care how badly she says she needs his hard-drinking daddy. She just didn’t like me telling her so. If she wants the man home in time for supper, let her come in after him herself.”

  “You’re avoiding the real issue here. Izora’s not going to change her opinion of you today, tomorrow, or any other time soon,” she reminded. “Tell us about Mr. Elliott. How did you meet him?”

  Needing the change from such a serious subject and knowing Marjorie wouldn’t be satisfied until she knew as much of the details as Anna was willing to share, Anna laughed. “Actually, Jack peed on him.”

  “What?” teacher and nurse echoed in unison.

  She told how she’d found Trey and most of what she’d learned about him. “Trey’s definitely greener than newborn mesquite, but he seems to be a kind soul. We got along well coming here, but I warned him he might not discover me such a pleasant gal once he met some of the guests. Izora will see to it.”

  “If he’s as kind as you say he is, he’ll see right through Izora.” Marjorie’s forefinger wagged, punctuating each of her words.

  “You didn’t tell him we don’t like you, did you?” Jane helped her strip from the riding skirt and shirtwaist that felt like it held ten extra pounds of ice.

  “Not you, just most. And I didn’t want there to be any surprises if we happened to survive. Despite what some may think, I do care enough not to die with lies on my last breath.”

  “Why do you call him Trey?” Marjorie asked.

  Anna giggled at her companion, who couldn’t stay angry with anyone more than the amount of time it took to change her mind. “Well, I guess because he’s the third mister whatever his name is. I don’t know. You know me and how I am with names. What is his name?”

  “James Elliott the Third.”

  Jane sounded duly impressed, and Anna was a little surprised at the instant temper that flared at the thought that her friend had wasted no time getting to make his acquaintance. Jane was considered one of the most eligible women in the territory, and she was extremely pretty.

  He’s not yours. Anna reminded herself that she’d barely known him a day. He just rode in on your wagon. Calm your horses. She’s got every right to know the man too.

  “Will you two please quit fussing over me so much.” Anna moved away and faced the full-length oval mirror that showed off her pitiful-in-comparison-to-Jane’s figure. Though both were blondes, Jane had a porcelain complexion and was slim and petite like the fashion of the day. Anna was pure Viking warrior woman, robust in breasts and hips, and her nose was sprinkled with freckles. The long braid that now rested over one shoulder hung to her waist. With a grumble, Anna flipped it behind her.

  “Unbraid it,” Jane insisted, holding the hem of her mother’s dress up so Anna could put it over her shoulders. “Quit trying to look so much like a man. You’ll be the prettiest girl at the party.”

  “I stopped being a girl a long time ago, Janie, and pretty is as pretty does. I didn’t graduate from Miss Marabelle’s Ladies’ School of Charm and Social Graces, you know.” She saw both friends frown and knew they were trying their best to make her feel welcome and help her to fit in, to make her feel more comfortable, if nothing less.

  She allowed Jane to slip the dress over her head. “Okay, I’ll be on my best behavior,” she mumbled beneath the brocade as it settled onto her shoulders and beyond. When her head finally peeked out, she gave them both a stern look. “But the first time Izora opens up her big mouth about—”

  “I’ll stuff a cookie in it, I promise.” Marjorie drew a cross over her ample bosom. “I’ll keep a saucer right next to me at all times and she’ll never know she’s been plugged.”

  “You know, that just might work.” Anna started fastening all the buttons and lace that adorned the gown. “And if it doesn’t, I can always unleash Jack on her. He’s not a bit bashful in how he feels about her singing and, despite that one eye, he has the deadliest aim in the territory.”

  James heard the laughter from somewhere nearby and recognized Anna’s voice in the mix. Good, she must be feeling more composed now, more comfortable among her company. That would make the evening or however long they must stay at the Hentons’ much easier.

  The men who had brought her in seemed congenial enough, not at all guarded in her company. At least none who had returned from the barn had made any undue comments or shown any signs of snubbing her. Still, he decided to reserve his opinion of the men until after he had rejoined the party. Once he saw them interacting with Anna and the women, then he could determine more why she had cautioned him so emphatically about her position in the community.

  Someone rapped on the door that separated the study from the other rooms along the second-story landing.

  “May we come in? Are you finished dressing?”

  Anna. The sound of her voice gave him a sense of not being such an outsider. He was normally alone and not much in the company of others by choice. He loved people but cared too much whether or not they liked him. So he kept to himself, not wanting to deal with the rejection of someone not wanting his company. But with Anna he thought maybe it would hurt very deeply if she left him on his own to fend among the guests. She suddenly felt like a home he needed to rely on.

  James brushed the wrinkles from his fresh white shirt and black trousers. Fortunately, she had wisely chosen to bring the warmer trousers rather than the denim, but the clothing was far less appropriate than what other party guests were wearing. He hoped he looked presentable enough not to embarrass her. “Just finished,” he announced, putting on his spectacles. “You may come in.”

  “Don’t you look like something the north wind blew in.” Anna sashayed in with her friends in tow, her eyes twinkling from something she had probably been laughing at moments ago.

  “Don’t you look”—James’s heart slowed to a single beat that caught and held as he took in the sight of her dressed in all her feminine regalia—“gorgeous.”

  “Breathe, Trey,” Jane instructed from behind Anna. “You’re turning blue.”

  “We came in to stitch you,” Marjorie informed him, holding up a bandage and a needle, “which we’ve all decided is my job. Too bad you didn’t come in unconscious or we would all have to arm wrestle to see which of us got to revive you.”

  “Marjorie!” Jane blushed.

  “Well, we would and you know it.” She laughed.

  James exhaled his pent-up breath. “I hope this is suitable for your party, Miss Henton.”

  “You look fine, and nobody better tell you differently.” Anna reached for his hand. “Now let me see that cut. See, Marj, I told you he’s got it bleeding again. I should have sent someone in to help him get dressed.”

  Bleeding again? Despite his reluctance to pull his hand from her gentle touch, James let it drop to his side. “There’s no need for all this fuss and bother.”

  “I’ll decide that.” Anna motioned for Marjorie to come closer. “I’d say three good stitches will do it, but you see what you think.”

  James never had so much attention given to his hands before. All three women stood around him now, his palm resting in Anna’
s. He wished he hadn’t spent the past few months digging in the prairie loam. His fingernails looked jagged and his hands scratched and rough from pulling away weeds and clumps of grass. They certainly didn’t resemble a gentleman’s hands. Did Anna think them too rough to the touch?

  “We all agree on three.” Marjorie tugged James away from Anna and led him to the desk that stood in front of a huge window along one wall of the study. “Kind of fitting, don’t you think, since you’re the Third. Just prop your hand on the corner here, and this will all be over in no time.”

  Pain pierced his palm and he glanced down at the needle Marjorie was using. A regrettable mistake. The needle blurred and all he could see was red, oozing blood. James’s knees suddenly wobbled and he felt like a pine tree ready to topple. “I n-need a chair, please.”

  “It won’t take that long,” she insisted. “I’m really fast at this, and I’m just going to let this bleed out a lit—”

  “Anna! Now!”

  “Grab that chair, Jane, he’s sinking fast,” he heard Anna say from somewhere distantly above him. Suddenly, everything went black.

  Seconds, or it could have been minutes, later his eyes opened to see six eyes staring back at him. He started to sit up, but when he did the world whirled around him as if taking a spin around the dance floor. His eyes finally focused on Anna’s. “Did I lose my wits about me again?”

  “Again?” Two sets of hazel eyes turned to share a glance with Anna as the nurse and teacher voiced their curiosity.

  “He sort of can’t take the sight of blood,” Anna explained. “He’ll be fine in a moment now that we’ve got him stitched up and he can’t see anything.”

  So he had been indisposed for several minutes. Wonderful. What a man they must think him. James forced himself to sit up in the chair and noticed his hand was well bandaged with no sign for further distress. He willed himself to stand without shaking. “I’m keeping you from your guests, ladies.”

  “They are probably wondering what’s taking us so long,” Marjorie agreed and packed up the medical supplies.

  Anna linked her arm through his. “Let them wait a little longer. You girls go on down. I brought him and he’s my responsibility. I’ll see that he gets downstairs when he’s ready.”

  Jane and Marjorie hurried away, leaving James and Anna finally alone again for the first time since their arrival.

  “You don’t have to go,” Anna told him.

  “And miss all the fun?” he teased, but he hoped Anna realized what he was really saying. He wouldn’t leave her alone to face any guest who didn’t show her proper propriety. “I say it’s time I meet the good folk of Kasota Springs and see who I’ll put on my naughty or nice list.”

  Anna laughed. “Better watch out, Third. You’re beginning to sound a lot like someone I might grow fond of.”

  As she guided him out of the study and toward the stairwell, James noticed that she had deliberately linked her arm in such a way as to make it look as if she were leaning into him and not the other way around. She wanted him comfortable going down into strange company and didn’t want him to feel as if he appeared weak in any manner. Being linked this way offered better balance if he happened to teeter going downstairs. Her thoughtfulness touched him, as had her remembering to bring his clothes inside. But would the others think her too close for propriety’s sake? He didn’t want to add to her discomfort with them. Yet when he tried to pull away, she wouldn’t let him.

  “Thank you, Anna, for the clothes and for not laughing at me just now about the fainting spell,” he finally gave in, sensing she would not let him change positions, “or the earlier one. I’m not quite a Texan yet, I’m afraid, but I sure admire the kind of man who is.”

  “My pleasure, Third, and Texas doesn’t make a man. You’re ten gallons full of honor, and that’s enough for any man to be.”

  Their eyes met and James felt as if some invisible thread had thrown a loop around his heart and tied the two of them together in some inexplicable way. No one had ever given him such a compliment. “I’m glad we met, Anna.”

  “Me too,” she whispered, her smile warming him to the tip of his boots. But just as quickly as it was offered, the smile vanished. The crowd must have noticed their return and were moving forward to meet them at the bottom of the stairs. “But as I told you before, I’m usually not this pleasant. I must have finally gotten some Christmas spirit. Just don’t expect it to last much longer.”

  Chapter 5

  The roar of the fiddler’s bow, the wail of a harmonica, and Izora Beavers’s attempt to sing louder than the instruments made talking nearly impossible. As Anna paraded Trey around the room, everyone seemed intent upon stopping him every few steps and making his acquaintance. Anna could understand why. He had such a pleasant nature about him and handled himself well in conversation, despite how many times someone asked him, “Say, fella, would you say it in Texan?”

  Though he never took offense, she sensed that he was trying very hard to fit in and not be so glaring a tenderfoot.

  She encouraged him to move on quickly with each introduction, but Trey deliberately waited until the person he was meeting engaged her in the conversation too. The man was simply too polite, but she sort of liked the way he wanted to take care of her in that way. It endeared him to her and she felt herself growing more at ease with each person she talked to. He had a real knack for setting people at ease.

  “Tell us more about your work here in the Panhandle,” insisted Newpord Henton as he joined the latest group surrounding Anna and Trey. He offered them both a glass of punch. “What is a banker’s son doing out on the plains digging in the dirt?”

  Anna envisioned him behind a teller’s cage dressed in a frock coat and tie. In fact, she could see him as a lot of things except a man who studied flowers for a living. What was he had said he was looking for? Bluebonnets? Hell, if he’d gone south, he would have found all the ’bonnets his eyes could see for miles. But he’d said something about a special one growing up here. One flower was the same as the next to her. And who could make a living off of studying flowers? Hadn’t he said something about prize money from a foundation for research?

  She tried to recall exactly what he’d said during their whiskey talk, but it was a haze at the moment. He’d droned on so much in some kind of scientific jargon only a professor could love, and she was no lover of science unless it was the mixing of whiskey. Whiskey gave her financial freedom. That was all the science she needed. So she’d more or less halfway listened to Trey’s reason for being there. It was her great strength as a barkeep and her flaw as well. People shared their secrets with her and she only halfway listened, assuming they only needed an ear and not really an answer.

  Now that she knew the Third a little better, she wished she’d paid more attention.

  “You say you know my father.” Trey accepted the punch and took a sip. “Ooh, goodness. What’s in this?”

  “A little Tennessee tail twister,” Newpord laughed, “or rather some of Miss Ross’s fine whiskey. It’ll grow hair on your chest.”

  Anna sipped the punch. Sure enough, someone had seasoned the refreshment with a bottle or two of her liquor. “Well, I don’t know about hair on our chests, but I don’t think any of us will be getting cold any time soon.” Her attention focused on their host. “How do you know his father?”

  “I visited him a couple of times in Boston. He was interested in investing in some of the ranches around here, mine being one of them. Fine man, sweet-natured mother, and well-spoken older sister. All incredibly accomplished people in their own right. Wonderful bloodline.”

  “Yes, it is,” Trey said and took another sip of punch, deliberately lingering at the rim of the cup.

  It wasn’t anything anyone else would have noticed, but when he turned slightly toward Anna as he did whenever he seemed uncomfortable, she knew talking about his family made him uneasy. Why, if they were so wonderful? Anna was a collector of secrets, and she knew when someone was
holding one back. She would have to get to the bottom of this. See if she could help Trey find a way to deal with it. Even if all she did was listen when he was ready to talk about whatever he guarded so carefully.

  “Come now, Mr. Elliott.” A chubby redheaded woman wobbled up and the crowd immediately parted to give her access. “Do tell. We simply won’t let you keep any secrets from us, will we, everyone? We want to know all about your family. We love to hear about things from”—she purposefully locked gazes with Anna—“back East. The news we get is usually so fretful.”

  All of a sudden Jack flew around the corner at a dead run, his teeth bared and his bark a howling yodel. He was like a bull at full charge. “Hold up, Jack.” Anna tried to catch him but the little mutt was intent on reaching Izora’s leg.

  Marjorie and Jane moved in closer. Jane managed to grab Jack while Marjorie lifted a saucer and toyed with one of the cookies stacked on it.

  “Keep that half-blind mongrel away from me.” Izora glared at Jack as he continued to grumble at her. “He’s already ruined my parasol. I’ll never get the stain out. A party is no place for a dog.”

  “Where I go, Jack goes.” Anna dared her to say something else. She was itching for a good coming-to-Jesus talk with Izora, no matter what season this was. Let the woman say anything else bad about her dog.

  “You’re the singer.” Trey acknowledged the woman’s unusual raspy, soulful voice.

  “Izora Beavers,” the redhead introduced herself, swinging her attention away from a confrontation with Anna. “Mrs. Izora Beavers.”

  Anna rolled her eyes before she could think fast enough to hide her disgust. As if Trey would be interested in anyone that wrapped up in her own self-importance. The man might wear spectacles but he had enough eyesight to see a cocklebur in calico if it tumbled right past him.

  “You must be exhausted from singing and need to rest your throat.” Trey bowed slightly. “May I get you some punch, Mrs. Beavers?”