A Texas Christmas

by Thomas, Jodi Jodi Thomas

  Could she love him? She already did. She loved all the things he was and what he tried so hard to be.

  But could she let him love her? Not without him knowing the truth. The question she could not answer was if she was ready to tell him. To tell anyone, for that matter. She didn’t know if she could. She’d kept the burden so long, it was hard to share it with anyone and trust that they might understand. It had been simply easier to keep the secret.

  “I’ve been kissed before, James.”

  “I didn’t expect anything less. You’re a beautiful woman.”

  She stepped out of his embrace. “I’ve been more than kissed.”

  Hurt held him silent as he moved away from her and reclaimed his glasses. “So you’ve hinted many times.” James’s shoulders straightened, bringing him into his full height again. “Thank you for the kiss, Miss Ross. I’ll remember it as one of the finest I’ve ever known.”

  “One of?” She nearly choked back the tears that welled from her heart and stuck in her throat. It’s not his fault, she reminded herself. He’s only hurting you because you hurt him. Say something, fool. But she couldn’t saddle him to someone he might find shame in. “I see you’re not a tenderfoot at everything.”

  He would hate her now. Leave her and always think of her as everything she’d told him she was. Worthy of gossip. Why did it matter now? She’d told herself she would never allow anyone to make her care what they thought of her. That way, it wouldn’t hurt. That way, she could live with the choice she’d made long ago and never let anyone make her feel wrong about it. Now she had to hurt someone good because of it. Someone she knew she would love for the rest of her life.

  “Shall we rejoin the others?” He reached for a pot holder to pick up the cider pot, but Anna wouldn’t let him.

  She grabbed another holder and took the pot before he could. “Let me. You’ll burn yourself or hurt yourself again.”

  James tossed the pot holder he’d selected onto the table. “I’m afraid it’s too late for that. I’m already burned.”

  Chapter 8

  Thursday and Friday were a miserable attempt at keeping good humor among the crowd. Everyone did their utmost to be on their best behavior, but being cooped up with a few dozen people, some of whom they liked and some of whom they only socialized with on a limited basis, proved to wear thin on several of the guests’ good manners.

  The simple act of everyone getting meals, doing dishes that followed, taking a few moments of privacy to groom themselves in the bedrooms, and finding something to do to ward off the boredom of the storm became a massive effort for their hosts. Everyone tired of the dancing, the best of the foodstuffs were long gone, and now water gravy, biscuits, and coffee or cider were the only offerings. The storm hadn’t let up so they hadn’t dared attempt to reach the salt shack, where cured hams and beef hung in plenty.

  James attempted to stir up what he thought was interesting conversation about the Panhandle and its plants and shrubs, but the men were more interested in discussions about how their cattle would fare during the storm. The women fretted over possibly having to miss the candlelight ceremony to celebrate their new church bell on Christmas Eve, and the married women worried about their children they had left with others while they were at the party.

  No one would voice their real concern. What if this didn’t end soon enough to keep one or more of them from dying? The past blizzards in this territory had claimed more than their share of lives.

  James had avoided Anna for days, his hurt over their kiss so deep that he didn’t know what to say to her. Last night had been the worst, trying to sleep in her room without thinking about her and what she’d said. Trying not to get up and demand that she tell him what she’d done that made her afraid to trust him with her heart.

  He’d caught her watching him as he’d talked to the various guests the past day and a half and wondered what she must be thinking. He just couldn’t bring himself to tell her yet. He didn’t know enough yet about what others knew of her. Nothing he’d learned so far had seemed so terrible that she had reason to try to scare him off. And that’s what she’d done after the kiss. Tried to frighten him away from loving her. He had to find out the truth or his heart would forever be broken. He had to fix this between them.

  “Mr. Elliott, do you have a moment?” asked a woman he remembered being introduced to as Cloris somebody. Crawford, he thought. Cloris Crawford, wife to Ward. “Certainly, Mrs. Crawford. How can I help you?”

  The woman led him to a group of women who were having some sort of intense discussion in the great room. “Ladies, Mr. Elliott’s here.” Cloris waved him to a chair near one of the settees. “Will you join us, Mr. Elliott?”

  Elliott bowed slightly, then took the offered seat, waiting until Cloris was seated. “You all look deep in conversation.”

  Marjorie Schroeder spoke up first. “We were wondering if you would like to conduct a game for us tonight. We need a leader.”

  “What sort of game do you have in mind?” James thought something to enliven the festivities might break some of the moods that were souring by the hour.

  “A Christmas game. Not like the one we did last night where we chose a gift. That left you and Anna out. But we’ve thought of one that might sweeten our time together.” Tears moistened Cloris’s eyes as she said softly, “Some of us are having to remind ourselves that we came here to enjoy each other’s company, and our group here thought if we called everyone together and asked each person to tell a story of how someone in the group had been kind to them, then that would remind us all of the Christmas spirit we should be sharing.”

  James felt deeply honored. “I’m sure Mr. Henton would be a fine leader of the storytelling. It’s his home, after all.”

  Another lady spoke up. “We asked him, and he suggested that you should do the honors. That you are the newest member of our community and so would not have a story to tell about the rest of us. He wanted you to feel you were participating.”

  “Then what can I say but yes.” James stood and thanked them. “Am I to spread the word and decide what time to start the storytelling?”

  Marjorie shook her head. “We’ll do it around dark, when we can light the candles and make it look more Christmasy. Let’s meet upstairs in the study around six. It will be a tight fit, but it’s warm there and the books and leather smell better than anywhere else in the house right now. We ladies will spread the word. You just decide how you’re going to start the game.”

  “I have one request.” James glanced at Anna where she stood talking to Jane across the room.

  “Anything,” Marjorie agreed.

  “Make sure you bring Anna.” James watched the saloonkeeper glance up and realized he was staring at her. She quickly avoided his gaze. “She hasn’t participated in anything we’d done since Wednesday night. I don’t want her going to Jane’s room to spend the evening alone.”

  Something was definitely stirring among the guests. They’d all acted bored to death since early morning, the party mood long gone with the hours cooped up together. Marjorie and several of the women had been hatching something since noon and, knowing Marjorie, who couldn’t stand to be bored, it would most likely be a game of some sort. She loved to keep things stirring.

  Anna had watched James talk to various people the last day and a half and wondered what was so important that he’d made the rounds to everyone but Izora. She knew it was something more than just making acquaintances and being polite. He looked like a man on a mission. She only hoped she was not the purpose of that mission. The fact that he hadn’t talked to Izora yet, however, hinted that the conversation did pertain to Anna in some way. Otherwise, why leave Izora out? He knew anything that woman told him about Anna would be negative.

  Anna had done her best to stay away from him since the kiss. To stay away from everyone, for that matter. Even Jane and Marjorie, unless they specifically asked her to help them with a chore. Sharing Jane’s room last night had been an act
of silent compliance until she just couldn’t take it anymore and got up and wandered the ranch house looking for a place of warmth that did not already hold a blanketed body for the night.

  But the memory of his kiss had followed her wherever she went. His essence seemed to fill every corner of the Henton home because he’d made himself so much a part of everything that had gone on there since his arrival. He was a man of sweet goodness. A man who didn’t know how not to be friendly. A man who had won her heart with his simple kindness and easy acceptance of who she was with him. That endeared James to her in a way no one in her life had ever done.

  She stared out the window now and wiped away the frost that built there, peering into the distance and wishing away the storm, but all that happened was the cold at her fingertips and in her heart deepened. “I wish this storm would end,” she whispered, knowing it was more than the one outside that she spoke of.

  The storm of emotions that gripped her wouldn’t ease its relentless pull on her heart nor her conscience that she’d treated him horribly and had been wrong in not trusting him to have faith in her.

  “We’ll ride it out,” Jane assured her. “There’s nothing too big for us to beat.”

  Marjorie joined Anna at the window and informed them of a gathering that would take place in the study tonight at six. Anna quickly shook her head. “I think I’ll go to bed early, girls. I’m tired.”

  “You’re not tired, and it’s midafternoon.” Jane refused to let Anna off so easily. “You’re avoiding James. What happened the other night between you two in the kitchen? You were perfectly fine when we left you. Where’s all that sass you usually have?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Anna turned her back on her friends and moved away.

  Marjorie reached out and stopped her. “We can ask him, Anna. He’ll tell us the truth.”

  Anna stared into her friends’ faces, knowing they spoke the truth. James wouldn’t lie to them. He wasn’t that kind of man. “Okay, I’ll go to your storytelling tonight, but you’ll wish I hadn’t. And so will he. It’s only going to hurt him more. You’ll all see.” She searched the room for sign of the one person who would put an end to all this guessing game that refused to end. To put an end to any chance of her and James getting past this chasm that separated them. “Has anyone seen Izora? We need to talk.”

  Chapter 9

  The redhead sat across from Anna at Newpord’s desk, looking like a queen holding court. Anna had asked their host if they could use his study before it was prepared for the evening festivities because it would offer privacy from the curiosity seekers. Most of the guests knew the animosity between Izora and Anna had festered for years, and most wondered when and if there would ever be a reckoning between the two women. Anna could just imagine the conversation going on outside of the room with everyone knowing she and Izora were alone together.

  “I suppose you’re wondering why I asked you in here.” Anna met her foe’s gaze and realized that Izora’s double chins were slightly quivering. She was nervous!

  “Whatever it is, let’s be done with it, Miss Ross. I prefer better company, and thank you for not bringing your mutt.”

  Anna had to bite her tongue to keep from telling the woman what she could do with her better company, but she forced herself to remember she was doing this for James’s sake. She would be arming the woman with all the power she needed to destroy her. “First of all, I want to know why you hate me so much,” Anna began. “You’ve never really said it to my face.”

  Izora’s curls bobbed as she tilted forward and splayed chubby hands on the desk. “I never said I hate you. I said I don’t like what you are.”

  “What am I, then?” Anna’s teeth gritted for a moment to bite back what she really wanted to say. Instead, she finally urged, “Tell me what you think I am.”

  “Must I say it?” Izora’s eyes gleamed dark with criticism.

  “I’d like to hear whatever it is you think I’ve done. I know what I’ve done, but it would be interesting to actually hear you say what you think that is. I’ve heard all manner of speculation from others.”

  “Very well, then, I won’t mince any words.” Izora leaned backward in the leather chair and triangled her fingers. “I think you are a woman who has used her wiles to convince a man to set her up in business. And you keep our husbands away from their homes with your whiskey, your employees, and your readiness to flirt with our men.”

  “Are you specifically talking about your husband, Enoch?”

  “Don’t you say his name like that.”

  “Like what?”

  “All soft and fluttery.”

  “Good God, woman, I can’t help the way I talk. If that were a sin, we’d all go to hell.”

  “Such brazen—”

  “Tell the truth, Izora. You’re mad because he wants to spend more time away from home than he does at home. The reason why is something you’re afraid to ask yourself, so instead you take it out on me. Or anyone like me who’s an unattached woman who spends her time around a lot of men. I’m not interested in your man, have never been interested in your man, and wouldn’t put your children through the mess of wondering whose bed their father was sleeping in.”

  Izora gasped.

  Anna leaned closer. “And while we’re talking about that, you can just get over me telling you not to send your son into the saloon anymore. If you could see his face when he has to come take his daddy by the hand and lead him staggering out the door, well, you just shouldn’t do that to the boy anymore.”

  “It’s none of your business.” Izora got enough gumption to look Anna in the eye.

  “You’re right, as long as your child stays out of my saloon. You’ll make it mine if he comes back in.”

  “We’ve already been through this. Why did you call me in now to repeat it?”

  Anna took in a deep breath, garnering her strength to do what she must. “Because I wanted you to know the truth finally. About me. About how much of what you know is fact and how much is what you’ve made up to spur others to believe you. Once I’m done telling you, you do with the information what you want.”

  Though Izora’s eyes sparked with interest, her features became guarded. “Why are you telling me now? Why should I believe whatever you say?”

  “Because I’m tired of bearing the burden of it alone. Of not caring what you or anyone else thinks of me. I’m tired of not feeling, Izora. Of being strong enough not to appear weak. If this gives you what you need to run me out of the territory, then so be it. If the people of Kasota want to judge me and deem me unfitting, then I’ll go and leave you all to your precious perfections. I just refuse to hide anymore. It’s made me lose something I couldn’t afford to lose . . . someone who doesn’t deserve to be hurt by my hard heart.”

  “Mr. Elliott?”

  “Yes, if you must know.”

  “He’s the only one it can be. You’ve known all the rest of us for years, and none of this has ever affected you.”

  “Oh really?” Anna wondered how ignorant the woman was of how the gossip she’d spread had affected her business and the way others viewed her. But maybe that was my own fault, Anna admitted. I wouldn’t let you know how much it bothered me, so it kept going on for years. “I think you’d be surprised at how well you can set tongues to wagging.”

  “If you’re going to insult me, I’m going to leave.”

  “Then you’ll miss the part about me telling you that I did leave my home back East because I was caught sleeping with a man.”

  “I knew it!” Izora’s eyes gleamed with triumph. “I knew from the first day I saw you.” She leaned in over the desk, as if eager to hear more, the insult long forgotten. “Was he a married man?”

  She would think the worst of her. Anna recalled Bartholomew’s shame-filled face and whispered, “No, he was not married. He was a good friend, a young man who wanted to become a man of the cloth.”

  “A preacher!” Izora’s hand splayed agains
t her bosom. “You didn’t seduce an innocent?”

  “I slept with him,” Anna admitted. “I had to.”

  “No woman has to seduce a man. It’s her choice.” Izora frowned, looking at Anna with even greater disdain.

  “He had been raped . . . taken against his will . . . not by me,” Anna said softly, not telling her the rest, for she had promised Bartholomew she would never tell anyone that particular horror. “I found him shortly after it happened and held him while he cried through the night. We fell asleep and were found in each other’s arms the next morning. Of course there was lots of scandal and, everything considered, I decided to come west to start a new life.”

  “Then you didn’t actually make love with him?”

  “I said I slept with him.”

  “But you didn’t say you shared your body with him.”

  “I loved him the way he needed it most that night. I held him.” Anna waited for her to pass judgment on her. To criticize. To gloat.

  “Did he give you the money for the saloon?” The redhead tried to hang on to the last shred of speculation.

  “He didn’t have a penny to his name. I’m from a wealthy family, and they were more than happy to give me my inheritance early if I would take my scandal and disappear. I’m sure you have your sources to check all I’m saying.”

  The burden of keeping the secret for years lifted from Anna’s shoulders, making her suck in a deep, clean breath. “Now, Mrs. Beavers, you are armed with everything you ever wanted to know about me. I am a soiled woman, but then again I’m not. I won’t deny a word of it, should you decide to use it to your advantage.”

  “I still don’t like you,” Izora’s chins lifted, “and I don’t appreciate you sharing this secret with me.”

  Of all the things Anna had expected Izora to say, that was the last of them. “Why?”