The Texan's Christmas

by Linda Warren

  Running his hands over his face, he wondered what he needed to do. Apologize? Grovel? Beg?

  Cadde had always said Kid’s past would catch up with him. He’d been right. But Kid couldn’t continue to dwell on his misdeeds. There had to be a way to redeem himself, his conscience.

  And it started with an apology.

  He stood and winced. Damn! His chest hurt and his back ached, not to mention his jaw. His body didn’t bounce back as quick as it used to. A little rest and he’d be good as new. Walking into the bedroom, he yawned and fell across his king-size bed.

  They’d had a son. He couldn’t get that thought out of his head.

  LUCKY SAT ON THE FRONT STOOP enjoying some free time before getting ready for the day. A freshness mingled with the morning air, a hint that fall wasn’t far away. Since she didn’t go into the bar until about four, she did the housework and cooked lunch for her dad. Now she was just relaxing, trying not to think about what had happened. Last night she’d cried herself to sleep. She’d said she would not cry one more tear over Kid Hardin, but she’d lied. Her pillow was soaked with regrets. She should never have let her anger get the best of her. Telling Kid served no purpose now but to hurt him. And to her dismay, she’d found it wasn’t something she really needed to do.

  Twenty years was a long time to carry around a heartache. She could now see that she had to shoulder a lot of blame. She’d made all the wrong choices to save her pride. It had cost her everything. Today she was wiser, more mature and she intended to never get caught in that trap again. She’d stand up for herself and her dad without sinking to a level of self-destruction.

  Her cell buzzed and she fished it out of her jeans pocket.

  “Lucky, are you all right?” Travis asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “When I went back last night, the Hardin man was walking to his truck. I asked if he was okay, but he didn’t answer. He didn’t appear to be injured.” She closed her eyes and could see Clyde and Earl hitting Kid hard. She was sure he wasn’t okay. And then she had added to his pain.

  “The highway patrol stopped the black Dodge last night and arrested the cowboys,” Travis was saying. “No evidence was found in the truck and they’ll probably be out on bail by the end of the day. Could you please not go to work today? I’m afraid they’ll come looking for you.”

  “Yeah. They’re not going to be pleased about me pulling a gun on them and Kid showing up. But they don’t know I had anything to do with their arrest and if I don’t go in, that will look even worse, don’t you think?”

  There was a long pause. “Hmm. Could you please not close up then?”

  “I’ll make sure Bubba Joe stays with me. Does that make you feel better?”

  “I don’t want anything to happen to you.” There was that tone in his voice again.

  “I’ll be very careful.”

  “Lucky…”

  Please, Travis, don’t get personal.

  “I’ll be close by so call if anything goes awry.”

  “I will.”

  She clicked off, so glad he hadn’t said something they both would regret.

  A new goldish-tan fancy-looking truck was coming up the lane, dust billowing behind it. There was only one person it could be—Kid.

  She went inside to prepare herself.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  KID DROVE UP TO THE OLD farmhouse, his palms sweaty on the steering wheel. That hadn’t happened since the first time he’d come here, when he and Chance had fixed up an ancient Ford and the only place he’d wanted to go was to see Lucky. Bud wasn’t known to be the friendliest person in the world and any thoughts that he’d mellowed would be ludicrous.

  The white house with the long porch across the front was the same, as were the two rockers and the wind chimes tinkling in the warm breeze. A barn and corral were to the right. It seemed as if nothing had changed in the intervening years. But that wasn’t true. Back then he and Lucky were kids exploring life in the only way they knew. Today they were adults and he hoped they could talk like grown-ups without getting sidetracked by all the emotions of youth.

  He got out of his truck and walked to the front door. It opened before he could knock. Lucky’s beautiful face was tight with worry, and her eyes guarded. She made no move to undo the latch on the screen door. Cool air wafted through from the air-conditioning.

  “What do you want, Kid?”

  He removed his hat. “Could we talk, please?”

  “We’ve said enough.”

  Bud walked up behind her, leaning heavily on a cane. Kid did a double take. Bud had changed considerably. His hair was now white, his frame thin and stooped. The strong man who could make people flinch just by the tone of his voice was long gone.

  “You better leave, Kid. I may be old and crippled but I can still use my shotgun.” Maybe not completely gone. Kid wanted to take a step backward, but he stood his ground.

  “It’s okay, Dad,” Lucky assured her father. “I can handle it.”

  “You sure?” Bud’s shaggy eyebrows knotted together.

  “Yes.” She unlatched the screen door and stepped out.

  “Thanks,” he said, twisting his hat. “I’d like to talk about the baby.”

  She sighed and sank into one of the rockers. “Why?”

  He pulled the other rocker forward and sat close to her, placing his hat on the floor. “I…uh…I’d like to know something about him. I don’t deserve to but…”

  “There’s nothing to tell, Kid. I held him for a few minutes and that was it.”

  “Did he have hair?”

  “Yes. It was brown like a cap on his head.”

  He swallowed. “And his eyes?”

  She gripped her hands in her lap. “I…I opened his eyes and they were blue.”

  “Like yours?”

  “I don’t know!” she shouted. “And I’m not answering any more questions.”

  He gave her a minute. “I’m sorry, Lucky, I wasn’t there. I’m sorry I let you down.”

  She chewed on her lower lip, something she always did when she was upset. “I’m…I’m sorry I told you like I did. I shouldn’t have done that, but you made me so angry.”

  “You should have gotten in touch with me long ago.” The words were out before he could stop them.

  Her eyes darkened. “If you had called or had been within a hundred-mile radius, I would have.”

  Even the hurt in her voice couldn’t stop the words in his throat. “Aunt Etta had my number. You could have contacted her.”

  “I wasn’t using the baby as a way to get you back, but, oh, I kept hoping right up until the end. With each contraction I kept thinking Kid will come. He’ll make everything right. I kept believing until I held our dead baby. I knew then that you were never coming back. You made your choices so don’t sit there and tell me what I should have done.”

  Silence followed her words.

  He couldn’t seem to let it go. “Why didn’t you call your father?” The questions that Cadde and Chance had posed were in his head and he had to ask them, even it they made her angry, even if they made him angry.

  “I couldn’t,” she murmured. “He was paying for my apartment and thought I was in nursing school. I didn’t know how to tell him. I was eighteen years old and trying to come to grips with the fact that I was pregnant and the man I loved was a liar.”

  Her barbed words hit his heart like a sledgehammer, but he sucked in a breath and let the pain pass. “When did you call Bud?”

  She looked down at her clenched hands. “When they took the baby from me, I lost it and had to talk to someone. Dad brought me home and I cried for a solid month. Then I picked myself up and got on with my life. I worked in Austin until Dad fell. I’ve been here ever since.”

  “I’m sorry, Lucky.”

  She stood. “That doesn’t change a thing.”

  He got to his feet, too, standing inches from her. The scent of strawberries reached him. She still washed her hair with strawberry fragrant sh
ampoo. Maybe some things never changed.

  “Aren’t you curious about my life?”

  She shook her head. “No. I hear all I need to from the rumor mill in High Cotton, especially from Mrs. Farley and Mrs. Axelwood. If I’m in earshot at the convenience store or Walker’s General Store, they make sure I hear of all your exploits with your numerous women and how fortunate you are to have escaped the clutches of that tramp Lucinda Littlefield.”

  He frowned. “How do they know anything about me?”

  “You’re like Brad Pitt to them, movie star status.”

  “I can’t believe they’d be so cruel to you. Mrs. Farley is big in the church in the center of town and so is Mrs. Axelwood.”

  “Kind of scary, isn’t it?”

  What was wrong with people? He was a sinner. No one knew that better than him. Sometimes people’s minds were so narrow it stopped the blood supply to their brains. It had certainly hampered the Christian Bible-touting women of this town. If they were holding him up as an example of manly virtues, then their tiny minds must have exploded.

  “Lucky…”

  “It’s over, Kid. Let’s leave it that way.”

  She was probably right, but once again he couldn’t let go. “May I ask you another question?”

  She sighed. “Kid…”

  “Where’s our son buried?”

  “Why do you need to know that?”

  “For my own peace of mind.”

  “You don’t have to worry. I take very good care of our son’s grave. It’s always mowed and I keep flowers on it.”

  “Is he buried in Austin?”

  She looked off to the hilly landscape, her body stiff with irritation. “No. When Dad picked me up, we also brought the baby home to bury. I had to sign papers to do that. He was in a small sealed box. Daddy dug a grave and we buried him on the hill next to my mother and grandparents.”

  “So he’s here?”

  “Yes.”

  Kid jumped off the porch and strolled toward the small cemetery.

  “Kid!” she shouted after him, but he kept walking.

  He opened the gate on the chain-link fence that enclosed the graves and went inside. The area was neat and mowed like she’d said. An arrangement of plastic flowers was at the base of each tombstone. He squatted by the small grave on the end. White roses were nestled in a basket, along with an angel and booties. It was anchored to the ground with steel rods so it wouldn’t blow away.

  The headstone grabbed his attention. Baby Franklin Cisco Littlefield. His son didn’t have his last name. He felt as if a bullet just pierced his heart. It took a moment for him to catch his breath.

  Lucky stopped beside him.

  “You named him after your father.”

  “Yes.”

  “Why isn’t my last name on there?”

  “You had no interest in me at the time so I did what I thought was best for myself and my son.”

  He let the angst in her voice slide over him and he wanted to understand, but he didn’t. “I want him to have my name. He’s a Hardin.” Anger was building to the surface and he was trying to keep it under control.

  “It’s too late for that.”

  He stood and faced her. “I want the headstone changed.”

  “After all this time, not likely. And you don’t have a say in this.”

  “I’m getting it changed.” He was determined.

  “You come onto this property and go anywhere near my son’s grave, I will have you arrested.”

  He poked a finger in his chest. “He’s my son, too.”

  “It’s a little late to think about that.”

  “All right, I screwed up, but don’t do this to me.” He touched her hair. “Come on, Lucky.”

  The bright sun bore down on their heads and for a moment he thought she was going to weaken. Suddenly, she stepped back. “Sorry, I don’t feel in a mood to grant you favors.”

  “It will be changed, Lucky. You can count on that.” He strolled down the hill, anger eating at him once again. He had no rights. He had no say. But if it was the last thing he did, his name would be on that headstone, even if he had to do it in the dead of night.

  LUCKY KNELT IN THE DRIED GRASS and straightened the angel and booties in the basket. “You met your father today. He’s really not an angry person. He’s fun-loving, a jokester and a teaser. It takes a lot to get him mad. I think you would have been a lot like him.”

  Maybe she was being pigheaded about the name. Adding Hardin wasn’t going to change a thing, though. The past was over and they had to let it go. Besides, they had different, separate lives now. Kid was in Houston chasing dreams. She would always be here, close to home, close to her son.

  Her hand went to her hair where he had touched it. For a moment she wanted to give in. Come on, Lucky, and that look in his dark eyes still had the power to get to her. But, as she kept telling herself, she was now stronger. More mature. And knew Kid’s charm and appeal. She would not weaken.

  She got to her feet and walked down the hill to the house. She had other things to think about—like her job. If the cowboys came in tonight, she had to be prepared with a story. They’d certainly ask about Kid and what he was doing there. She’d have to have a good answer.

  As she stepped up on the porch, she saw Kid’s hat. He’d been so angry he’d left without it. She picked up the hat and carried it into the house.

  “What’ve you got?” her dad asked, sipping on a Dr Pepper.

  “Kid forgot his hat. I’m sure he will be back for it.”

  She laid the Stetson on an end table. Ollie sniffed it and went back to his spot by her dad’s feet.

  “I saw y’all at the cemetery. You showed him the grave?”

  “He insisted. He’s upset his name isn’t on the headstone.”

  “That boy has a lot of nerve.”

  She sank onto the sofa. “I don’t know what to do. I can see his point, and then on the other hand I get angry he even has me thinking about his point of view.”

  “Ignore him. He’ll get bored and go back to Houston.” He set his glass on the TV tray. “Did he say anything about the lease?”

  “No. He didn’t bring it up.”

  “He will. Cadde Hardin is a driven man, though I’ve heard he’s softened since his marriage, but he’ll pressure Kid to get the lease signed. I was talking to Wilma—”

  “You’ve been talking to Bubba Joe’s mother?” Lucky was shocked. She didn’t think her dad talked with anyone.

  “Yeah. She’s worried about Bubba Joe and I’m worried about you.”

  “Dad, Bubba Joe weighs at least three hundred pounds and he can take care of himself. So can I.”

  “You’ll forgive me if I’m not bowled over with comfort by that statement.”

  “Dad, please don’t be like Wilma. She comes into The Joint in that black, god-awful wig and sits at the end of the bar nursing a Coors and watching her son like he’s going to disappear if someone breathes on him.”

  “Wilma’s a little paranoid.”

  “That’s putting it nicely, but I’m glad you’re talking to someone. Maybe you could invite her over here to watch a movie or something.”

  His wrinkled brow knotted so deep his hair folded into his eyebrows. “You mean like a date?”

  She shrugged. “Whatever you want to call it.”

  “I have one foot in the grave and another on a banana peel and I ain’t wasting any of my TV time on Wilma. She’d drive me nuts, and you’ve sidetracked me. I was talking about Cadde. Wilma said he’s planning on drilling a well on the Hardin property.”

  “I told you that.”

  “You did? I forgot.” He waved a hand. “It doesn’t matter. What I’m trying to tell you is that Kid will be back. That lease is important to the Hardin family.”

  She stood and kissed his cheek. “I know that, too. Now I have to get ready for work. I left a plate of roast and veggies in the refrigerator. Please eat it.”

  “Ah. I’m gonna
check on my cows and then watch a John Wayne movie. I probably won’t be hungry.”

  “I’ll call Wilma to come keep you company then. I bet she can get you to eat.”

  “Don’t you dare.”

  Lucky smiled all the way to her bedroom. But her father was right. Kid would come calling again, probably with a chisel in one hand to etch his name on the headstone and the lease in the other. Any way she looked at it, she was going to see Kid one more time. Her insides didn’t cramp up at the thought. She was actually looking forward to it.

  KID DROVE TO THE ONE PLACE that gave him comfort when he was a boy—his aunt and uncle’s house on the High Five ranch. Everything was quiet as he passed the Belle residence. Cooper and Uncle Ru were busy on the ranch and sometimes Sky helped. He got out and went inside the old log cabin. It wasn’t locked. He sat on his bunk in the room they shared as boys. His eyes kept going to the heart on the wall.

  He hadn’t meant to lose his temper with Lucky, but his son deserved his name. Before he did anything drastic, his usual modus operandi, he’d talk to her again.

  “Kid,” Aunt Etta said from the doorway. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. Everything.”

  “Oh, your face.”

  “I’m okay,” he tried to reassure her.

  Aunt Etta sat on Cadde’s bunk, facing him. “Since you didn’t come home, I thought you went back to Houston.”

  “I’m sorry. I should have called.” He was a selfish bastard.

  “You’re not a teenager anymore so I didn’t worry, but maybe I should.”

  “Nah. Just got into a fight. Nothing unusual for me.”

  “Kid…”

  “Thanks for all the years you put up with my inconsiderate ways.”

  Etta wiped her hands on her apron. “You’re scaring me. Tell me what has you so down and why you’re fighting.”

  “You don’t want to know. It would change your opinion of me.” God, he sounded whiny.

  “I don’t think so. I was there the day you were born. I changed your diapers, watched you grow, grieve and fight back. I also saw you hide all your pain behind laughter. I know you inside and out and there’s nothing you can say or do that would ever change my love for you.”