A Texas Christmas

by Thomas, Jodi Jodi Thomas

  Nice way to tell her to shut up, Anna thought, proud of how easily he had handled the mean-mouthed harridan.

  “No, thank you, Mr. Elliott, but that’s very kind of you.” Izora’s double chins lifted as she stared down the length of her slightly pointed nose. “I hear you’re from Boston. I think our Miss Ross and her little dog are originally from there too, aren’t you, Anna?”

  Anna glared at her foe. “I don’t recall ever mentioning where we were from, Mrs. Beavers. I didn’t know it was all that much of interest to folks around here since we all sort of made our way out west. Boston, New Orleans, the North Pole, what difference does it make? We’re here now, and that’s what matters.”

  “Well, I certainly wasn’t implying anything.” Izora’s hand pressed against her ample bosom as if she were in distress.

  “Care for a cookie?” Marjorie rushed one up to Izora’s mouth and insisted that she take a bite. “There you go, Izora. Makes you want to stuff your face all night, doesn’t it?”

  Jane elbowed the nurse, jerking her slightly backward. “Marjie, get her some punch to go with that, won’t you, dear.”

  “Anna was just saying that it’s great that we all have a wonderful place like this to begin new lives and find whatever it is that will make us happy as people,” Trey tried to ease the singer’s animosity, “providing the storm abates.”

  “Is that one of those four-poster Eastern words?” a tall, thin man asked from nearby. “Abates?”

  “It means providing the storm stops.” Anna offered the explanation. “And I think it’s just starting up, in my opinion.” She shot Izora a warning glare. “Better button up your coats. It’s going to get bitter cold before it ever warms up, you can bet on it. I just hope we all can find some way to keep triggers from being pulled so we don’t have to ruin a good Christmas. Why don’t we all have some of those cookies.”

  The music started up again and Trey took Anna’s punch glass from her, asking Newpord if he would mind setting them down for him. “Anna promised me the next dance and I would very much like her to keep the promise.”

  He bowed to Anna. “Would you do me the honor?”

  She’d made no such promise. Anna leaned in and whispered, “I’m not so good at it.”

  Before she could protest, he drew her into his embrace and waltzed her out into the swirling crowd. “It doesn’t matter. Dancing is the one thing I do well.”

  They managed to make it several yards across the floor before he halted and asked, “What are you doing?”

  “Counting. What does it look like?”

  “The waltz is more of a slide this way up, down, then slide that way, up, down. Yes, that’s right. This way, up, down. Now that way, up, down. You’re doing just . . . ouch!”

  “Well, Jack got in the way.” Anna noticed her pet dancing at their heels, trying to follow their steps. “He wants to dance with us.”

  Trey laughed. “I think he’s got better rhythm than you do, my friend.”

  “Wait till he hears mariachi music. The dog can shake his hips better than any of us.”

  Anna concentrated on watching Trey’s feet, but she kept getting distracted by the mass of heated faces, clinging arms, and twirling flounces whirling around her in a kaleidoscope of calico, lace, and paisley. Trey was good to his word. He could dance with the best of them, and it showed some interesting prospects about the man that made Anna want to find out for herself how else he moved well.

  Be good, she reminded herself. You’ll send the man into a tizzy, if you act too bold. It was just a shame that he was such a gentleman. She could think of a dozen better ways they could get to know each other during this storm than spending it dancing and talking with others. Shameless, that’s what you are, Anna Jolene Ross, she silently reprimanded herself. And you say people talk about you.

  She tried to talk and dance at the same time with Trey, but that didn’t work. Too much sliding up and down while trying not to squish Jack’s little body beneath her feet was becoming too much effort to think of as fun.

  “Can we please stop for a minute?” she finally asked. “I’m afraid I’m going to take out his other eye.”

  “How did he lose the first one?” Trey escorted her to the edge of the crowd, Jack following closely behind. The dog kept looking one way, then the other, as if searching for Izora.

  “By saving my life,” Anna explained, picking up Jack and stroking his shoulders. Jack loved the way she stroked him from head to tail, warming his fur, so Anna made it a point to comfort him until he stopped shivering. “He took on a rattlesnake that almost bit me in the heel. I thought the poor thing was going to die, but after a few days he perked up and lived. Unfortunately, he lost an eye in the battle.” She pressed Jack to her heart. “He may be little but he won’t take guff off anybody.”

  “Sounds like his owner,” Trey said softly.

  No one had ever called her little. It seemed oddly endearing that Trey thought of her in that way. They were an odd threesome. A spectacled tenderfoot, a one-eyed ball of furry ferocity, and a freckled Viking. What kind of bloodline could that ever make?

  A loud roar echoed up from the crowd as the fiddler announced a reel. “Grab your partners,” he yelled and struck his bow to a lively tune.

  Several men pulled out bandannas and wrapped them around their right arms.

  “What are they doing?” Trey asked as the bandanna men lined up with male partners.

  “They drew straws earlier to see who would be heifer and who would be bull. Short straws are heifers, or gals. Bulls, the men, get to lead. It happens at every gathering we have around here. Just not enough women to go around.”

  “Salute your partners!” the fiddler commanded.

  Trey bowed as the others did, while Anna curtsied with Jack in her hands. She tried to keep up with others, backing away then moving forward only to lock the wrong arm with Trey. He spun her around the correct way, then gently pushed her toward her next partner. She looked back at Trey and realized that all pairs had exchanged partners.

  “You haven’t said anything to Izora about my account, have you, Anna?” Enoch Beavers held her at such a distance that they were barely touching. Though his head never turned, his eyes slanted to where Izora was dancing three couples away.

  Anna would have put Jack down and let him go pee on Izora, but the woman might try to kick him and call it dancing. “No, Enoch, I haven’t said a word, and I won’t as long as you settle up soon after the new year. I want your children to have a good Christmas. Use your money for that.”

  His bulging cheeks blew out a great breath, fluttering his handlebar mustache. “You aren’t at all what they say you are, you know.”

  Offering a smile that it took everything within her to give, she sweetly asked, “And who might they be?”

  The command to change partners took his answer away with him, leaving her in the arms of yet another of the men who had not gone out to help her with the team.

  “You’re looking lovely tonight, Anna.” Ward Crawford’s hand settled a little too low on her hip.

  The dandy thought himself quite the ladies’ man, but she could barely tolerate serving him drinks at the saloon.

  Jack growled.

  “Good God, woman, do you have to take that one-eyed piss pot everywhere with you?”

  Anna kicked Ward. “Oh, sorry. I’m not much of a dancer.”

  She allowed Ward to spin her once, just so that his hand would have to reach above her head instead of remaining at her hip. “And if you mean Jack, yes, he helps me ward off men with wayward hands. Now go away or I’ll tell”—What is his wife’s name? Anna hated being so bad with names—“where I found your hat last week.”

  Everyone knew Ward prided himself on buying big hats, had them made down in San Antonio at a special shop. One of a kind, they were. If one happened to wind up in a certain saloon girl’s boudoir, then there would have to be plenty of explaining for the man who left it there. That was certainly something t
hat man didn’t want to have to tell his wife.

  Not that Anna would ever hurt the wife in that manner. But the man better watch his mouth about Jack or else she might just alter her policy on not informing family members about her customers’ Saturday-night shenanigans.

  The floor quivered as those who did not dance clapped their hands and stamped their feet to the lively tune. Several exhausting partners and minutes later, Trey returned to Anna and the last round of the reel ended in thunderous applause.

  “I think I’m ready for some more punch or maybe something to eat,” Trey announced. “Will you excuse me while I sit out the next one?”

  There was something strange in his tone, and his back was a little stiffer than it had been before. “Are you mad at me?” she asked, realizing that Jack was wiggling and wanted down. She let him go.

  “Why should I be?” Trey moved away from the dance floor and headed for the kitchen.

  He had no reason that she could think of, but he’d never felt so distant before. His words had never been so crisp and brief.

  “I mean, if you prefer to dance with those other men rather than me, it’s certainly your prerogative,” he said over his shoulder.

  “You’re jealous,” she announced, surprised by the fact. Deep within her two feelings flared—anger at his audacity and a certain pleasure in knowing that he cared. “I had nothing to do with who I danced with,” she reminded him, following him. “The fiddler called the switch, so I switched. Believe me, some of them I wouldn’t have ever danced with if it hadn’t been for—” She stopped in her tracks, her fists knotting on her hips. He was being possessive, and no man possessed her. “Now, wait just a minute here. Why am I explaining this to you? You’re the so-called expert dancer. You know how a reel goes.”

  “So-called?” Something etched in his face that she couldn’t quite determine its source until he added, “I thought you said I danced quite well.”

  She’d hurt his feelings and she hadn’t meant to, no matter how miffed at him she was at the moment. Anna noticed people staring at them now, listening. They would think she’d already attached herself to a stranger in a single day of knowing him. That was just great. They would leave this party with more fuel for the rumors that had been spread about her all over the territory.

  Let them listen. It wasn’t like arguing with him would make them dislike her any less. They would certainly take his side. He was company. She was old gossip. But she hadn’t meant to make him feel less than he was. “You’re a wonderful dancer. You just shouldn’t have asked me to dance a reel if you didn’t want me to be in other men’s arms.”

  Trey stopped and faced her. “I didn’t know how I was going to feel seeing you there. Now, will you stop staring a hole through me and show me where Miss Henton keeps her bowls for the chili? We’ll talk about this later. Alone.”

  “Fine. We definitely will.” She’d never seen him mad, and he looked a whole lot more manly when he was angry. That appealed to her quite a lot. Maybe she needed to see what it would take to get him really steamed up.

  Lord knew you didn’t really know how much a man really cared for you until you had him riled at you. And there wasn’t a man alive who had ever been brave enough to look her in the eye and tell her when she was going to do something.

  Merry Christmas, Anna, she told herself. Maybe you’ve finally got your wish. Someone brave enough to handle your secret. Someone man enough to handle you.

  Someone strong and true to spend your life with.

  Chapter 6

  James had no chance to talk to Anna alone as he hoped. Everyone had pitched in to help Jane and her father with seeing that all were fed. Some of the men had dared to open the mudroom door and scoop up buckets of the drift that had made opening the door nearly impossible. The snow was packed in so hard that the windows had frost on the inside of them and were bending inward. At least they’d managed to get enough snow to boil and let it cool into good drinking water.

  Anna had insisted that she and the women use some of it to clean the dishes so that they would have enough to use for breakfast tomorrow. Most had lent a hand, but there were a stubborn few who didn’t want to help because they didn’t want to get their hands cold. Those guests were in the great room having a good time, from the sound of laughter and stamping of feet to the music.

  James had been taught by his adoptive parents that if you ate at someone’s house, you helped with the dishes. So he did what he could one-handed. He couldn’t wash. He tried to dry, but it hurt to hold the dish with the injured hand while he dried with the other. So they allowed him to put away the dishes.

  “You’re a real help in the kitchen,” Jane complimented him, handing him another saucer to stack in the top of the cabinet.

  “Being tall has its advantages,” he said, taking the tiny china dish and putting it among the others.

  “You wouldn’t catch some of the men in here helping.” Anna nodded toward the door that led out of the kitchen. “Unless it’s proving who’s strong enough to pry open a door. Women’s work, they say. Not manly enough for them.”

  The moment the door had been opened and the buckets of snow scooped in, the other men had escaped to rooms deeper in the house. Only James and his host remained behind with the women. “If they’re man enough to eat on it, they ought to be man enough to clean it,” James informed, inspiring a feminine “amen” from the women that would have made any preacher proud.

  “It’s not that they wouldn’t help, there’s just so much room in here,” Newpord defended his fellow men. “I chased most of them out. James here is new company, so I gave him his choice. Me? I like being crushed between a swarm of aprons and pretty gals. You don’t get this old without getting this smart.”

  The women giggled and James eyed the man with fond respect. The widower must miss his wife deeply.

  “Which brings me to the next thing we all need to do, not just us do-gooders,” Newpord announced.

  “What’s that, Father? The gift giving?” Jane handed James another dish.

  Gift giving? James didn’t have anything he could give. Guess he’d have to sit out that part of the party. But what of Anna? She didn’t have anything to offer either. Would she mind being left out?

  “I was thinking maybe we better gather everyone and decide a few things before we continue with the party. There needs to be some organizing done, like where we will put everyone down for the night and how we’re going to handle the outhouse needs, to state it bluntly. I don’t think anyone could make it through those drifts to the shack, so we have to decide how we’re going to handle the situation.”

  By the look of horrified feminine faces as they contemplated exactly what Newpord was implicating, James thought he might be of help with this particular problem. “Sir, I could offer a solution that might work.”

  Newpord held up a hand to stop him. “No, wait. Let’s call a meeting in the parlor and we can all discuss it. It needs to be mutual agreement among us all. Looks like we’re just about done here, so let’s go call a council.”

  Everyone put down their dry towels and took off their aprons, following their host into the great room where the others were now visiting and talking, resting from their dancing and meal of chili-seasoned beans, beef, and corn muffins.

  “Gather round, folks.” Newpord’s voice echoed over the room and up the stairs to those who rested on furniture there. “We’re calling a powwow.”

  It took a couple of minutes for almost forty people to come together. Some were a little slower than others, having imbibed in the punch bowl a little too frequently. The women sat while the men stood behind them.

  Newpord repeated what he’d said in the kitchen. “Now, I’d like to turn the floor over to our new friend, Mr. Elliott. Ah hell, let’s call him James. If we’re going to spend this much time with him, then he can allow us to call him James or Jim, can’t he?”

  A round of applause welcomed James into their fold. “Call me Trey.” James glanc
ed at Anna and was pleased when she smiled.

  “Well, Trey, what did you have in mind instead of using the outhouse?” Newpord plunged ahead with their problem.

  Embarrassed titters erupted in the room, then finally laughter, putting everybody a little more at ease about the subject.

  “As some of you’ve learned, I’m a bit of a scientist. At least that’s what I profess to be most of the time.” Seeing a few nodding heads, he continued on, “As a scientist, I know that burning off waste seems to be the answer for our problem. I propose that we use the fire you’ve made in the mudroom chimney to burn off the excrement we gather in chamber pots, no matter what its . . . uh . . . texture. There are quite a few of us and so the amount may become substantial if the storm lasts.”

  “You mean gather our—?” Izora couldn’t finish the words. “And burn it?”

  “If we can’t get doors open enough to toss it out, then it seems the logical solution to me. Even if we can get doors open, we should save that snow for use for drinking water and the like. We don’t want anyone having to venture out too far into the snow and get lost.” James searched their faces. “Of course, it won’t be the most pleasant room to pay a visit, but it will do the job and not make any of us sick, should the storm linger longer than we hope. If anyone else knows a better way to accommodate this many people for that task, please speak up.”

  Anna raised her hand. “I vote we do as Trey says. It makes sense.”

  Other hands followed, and Newpord counted them. “Well, that’s settled. That’s most of us. Thank you, Trey. Now we need to decide where everyone’s going to sleep. Do we take turns in shifts or try to bed everyone down at once?”

  “I vote that we all sleep at once. We’ll need to keep dancing when we’re awake to keep warm.” Izora looked at others for support. “It will be difficult to sleep with all that foot stomping.”

  They agreed to not take shifts.

  “We have four bedrooms, the study, the upper landing, and the great room, the kitchen, and the mudroom,” Jane’s nose wrinkled as her mouth twisted disdainfully, “which now I’m sure we all agree we won’t count. It will be hard enough trying to use the kitchen since it’s next to the mudroom.”