by Ford, Linda
She stopped working to study him.
He tried to concentrate on the dish in his hand, tried to remember he meant to dry it. Did his best not to look at her. But he failed to control his eyes, and when he met her gaze, he forgot every argument, every lesson he’d learned.
“Colt, you are a good man. I appreciate who you are. But I think I see you differently than you see yourself. Even more, I think my view is right and you know it.”
He couldn’t speak, couldn’t argue, though he knew he needed to. Instead he was trapped by her blue-sky eyes and her sunshine smile.
She touched his arm with her damp hand, sending a spray of warmth up his limb and into his heart with the welcome of spring. “Colt Johnson, you are a good, decent, kind, thoughtful, loving man.”
He tried to swallow the lump in his throat. She saw all that? Oh, how he wanted to believe it. How he wanted to respond to it. If he could speak, he would say yes, that is me. That is the me I’ve buried deep.
She increased the pressure on his arm, filled his heart to overflowing with her smile. “I’m right, aren’t I? That’s who you are behind your pretense of not caring.”
“Becca, I wish I could be who you see.” Without conscious thought, he touched the back of her hand where it lay on his arm. His strong walls shattered. But it couldn’t be. He mentally gathered the pieces and reconstructed the wall. A little less secure than it had been, but it was there. He stepped away, forcing her to drop her hand to her side and leaving him adrift in a sea of regret. He realized he still held a bowl, and set it aside.
“Looks like we’re done. I’ve got to finish Little Joe’s toy.”
He hurried to the storeroom and stared at the shelf loaded with goods. He had come perilously close to crossing a forbidden barrier. For a heartbeat, he’d considered pulling her into his arms and letting the pain of his past disappear in holding her and believing her. Good thing he came to his senses in time. Saved himself being run out of town. Or worse.
He touched the spot where her hand had rested on his arm, and for a moment let the rush of emotions have free rein in his heart. If only... If only he could tell her how he felt. How her concern had given him a glimpse of hope. How it had stirred a longing he’d learned to deny. But he knew he must push such wayward ideas back behind solid walls. Even though those walls trembled with an emotion he could not confess. If he knew what love was, he might think that was what he felt.
He examined the little horse. Earlier in the day, he’d painted on black eyes, a black mane and black hooves. The paint would be dry by morning, and Little Joe would have a toy of his own.
Would the teacher allow him to keep it? Or would it simply get “lost” as so many of Colt’s things had in the past?
He puttered about in the storeroom for the afternoon. A few times Macpherson came in to get something or to pace the room. Colt’s nerves twitched. Why was the man so restless all of a sudden? Was he trying to come up with a way to ask Colt to move along?
He didn’t need to. Colt would be leaving tomorrow, as soon as Christmas was over. Or early the next day, at the latest.
He steeled himself against the pain shafting up his spine and into the base of his skull. Thankfully, someone entered the store at that moment and Macpherson rushed out.
He recognized the voices of Eddie, Roper and Ward, and listened to the discussion about bringing in a tree. Then the men went into the living quarters, and the closed door muffled the conversation.
Colt sat down on a crate. With all his heart he longed to join them in the Christmas celebration, but the thought sent every warning bell in his head ringing with vigor.
“Colt.”
He jerked up at Marie’s voice. “Didn’t hear you come in.”
“Becca says come so we can decorate the tree.”
“You go ahead without me.” He didn’t belong. Never would. Never could. But he wanted to with a ferocity he hadn’t admitted since he was Marie’s age.
Marie shook her head. “Becca said to bring you back.”
He sighed, guessing Becca knew he wouldn’t be able to refuse Marie. He rose and let Marie take his hand, then they returned to the others.
The three cowboys greeted him pleasantly enough. Macpherson was busy making a pot of coffee. Becca smiled.
“Now we can start.” Her gaze lingered on Colt.
He forced himself to look away first. The cowboys struggled to right the tree, and he rushed over to help.
The tree was soon secure, and the children hung their decorations. Becca assisted Little Joe. Colt lifted Marie so she could hang the colorful balls and stars on the upper branches.
The cowboys stood back and watched, nursing mugs of coffee provided by Macpherson.
Colt forgot the others as he and Becca helped the children. He would let himself enjoy the moment. Accept the sense that this was right and good. Believe that he fit into the picture.
Tomorrow was soon enough for facing reality.
Having given himself permission to enjoy the present, the rest of the day passed pleasantly. Seemed everyone was prepared to set aside any differences and focus on making the season special for Marie and Little Joe.
They played games in the afternoon. In the evening, they enjoyed popcorn and hot chocolate. Later, when the children had fallen asleep, Colt prepared to retreat to his mat.
Becca saw his intention. “Why don’t we sit around the table and enjoy Christmas Eve?”
The Eden Valley cowboys eagerly joined her. Colt could not refuse without appearing churlish. But he wondered what she had in mind.
“Why doesn’t everyone tell us where they were and what they were doing last Christmas?”
Colt shrugged. His answer would be simple enough.
Becca began. “Last year was hard for me. It was our first Christmas without my mother. I don’t think either of us knew how to celebrate without her.” She touched her pa’s hand. “But you tried so hard to make it special for me. Thank you.” She turned to the others. “What I remember most clearly is that Pa and I went for a walk after dark on Christmas Day. The sky was so clear. The stars so numerous. It made me think of what it must have been like that first Christmas. I felt blessed and loved.”
Macpherson cleared his throat. “I remember last year as both sad and happy. I was sad Elizabeth was gone, but so happy to have Becca with me. And it pleased me to see so many new ones coming into the area.” He nodded toward Eddie. “You were one of those I welcomed.”
It was Eddie’s turn. “Last year was my first year at the Eden Valley Ranch. I had nothing but a little log cabin, but our cook house was finished and Cookie made sure we celebrated Christmas proper—as she described it. We had turkey and pudding. And she gave all of us mittens she’d knitted.” He nodded. “I missed my family. Still do. But I love this new country and am happy to be part of it.” He turned to the man beside him. “Roper?”
“Last year I spent the holiday with strangers at a stopping house in Idaho.” He sucked in a deep breath. “Like I said the other day, I know what it’s like to have little in the way of Christmas celebration. Not that I was unhappy. But it’s not like having Christmas with family and friends.”
Indicating he was done, he turned to Ward.
Ward grinned widely, as if pleased with his memories.
Colt studied the openness in the man’s face. What must it be like to feel so free before others?
Ward continued. “I’ve got my own little ranch. Going to live there someday.”
Roper chortled. “Yeah, when he finds some woman silly enough to agree to marry him.”
Ward only laughed. “Shouldn’t be a problem.”
Roper rolled his eyes. “I expect they’re just lined up waiting for you to give them the ‘come here’ signal.”
Ward shrugged. He seemed compl
etely unconcerned with the teasing and ignored Roper. “I already have a little cabin built. That’s where I spent Christmas.” He looked past all of them as if seeing his ranch.
Or his dreams.
Colt tried to imagine what it would be like to have such solid dreams. To make such firm plans. He thought of his money in a bank back in Fort Benton. Almost all of his wages were in that bank. Someday, he might get a ranch, too. Would he have someone to share his life with? He kept his eyes fixed on the table.
Ward nudged Colt. “How about you, partner?”
Colt had known this moment was coming. He was prepared. All he had to do was pull back his wandering thoughts.
“I had a good Christmas last year. I was in a cabin in the mountains, and the day was so sunny and bright it felt like spring. I had a horse I’d been training, and he was ready for a good workout so we rode for hours. Saw some beautiful scenery. Stopped to make dinner at a little stream just about frozen over, so it had interesting shapes of ice. A big whitetail buck came down to drink and stood watching me.” He sighed. “It was a great day.”
“Sounds like it,” Roper said.
None of the others commented, and Colt guessed they thought it sounded lonely. It had been, though he hadn’t realized just how lonely until now.
“Where was the cabin?” Roper asked.
“West of Great Falls.”
“Say. I wasn’t that far away.” The conversation drifted to comparing places they’d been until Macpherson yawned.
“Tomorrow’s a big day. We better get some sleep,” the older man said.
As Becca went to her room, Colt hustled to his bedroll. The cowboys tossed theirs nearby. Then Macpherson took the lamp and the room grew dark.
Colt compared this Christmas with the one previous. He’d enjoyed last year at the time, but nothing he’d ever experienced held a candle to this year. Friends and children, attention from a beautiful woman, a special meal...
He fell asleep with visions of turkey and children’s laughter dancing in his head.
* * *
Becca listened to the sounds from the other room. Pa had risen a few minutes earlier, and she heard the men moving about. Little Joe cried once and Colt calmed him. She pictured him holding the little boy to his shoulder. There was an obvious affection between the pair.
Tomorrow—
She shook her head. She would not waste a speck of today’s joy worrying about tomorrow. Deeming it safe to leave her room, she hurried out. “Merry Christmas, everyone.”
Marie raced out to her. “Is it Christmas now?”
“That’s right.” She could hardly wait to see the children with their gifts.
But first she served them breakfast, and then Pa read the Christmas story as he’d done every year since he and Ma married.
While she and Marie washed dishes, the men ducked out of the room, returning in a few minutes with strange-looking parcels wrapped in Pa’s store paper.
They put the packages under the tree and sat back, smiling in anticipation.
“Are those presents?” Marie whispered.
“I believe they are.”
“Who are they for?”
“Why don’t we see?”
Pa handed out the gifts. There were mittens for the children.
“Bought them off the natives near the ranch,” Eddie said.
Pa had supplied a little storybook for each child.
Marie opened the package containing the doll. “Oh. Is this mine to keep?”
Becca hugged the child. “It’s yours.”
“Thank you.”
Then Little Joe opened the horse. “Horsee.”
“It’s yours. Colt made it for you.”
Little Joe threw his arms around Colt’s neck and hugged him. “Fank you.”
There were still a few remaining parcels. Pa handed them around. Becca had made each of them framed pictures of pretty scenes she’d saved from old calendars. Pa gave each adult a book.
There remained one more gift.
Pa read the label. “To Mr. Macpherson and his daughter, from Colt.” He held it toward Becca. “You open it.”
“What is it?” It was bulky and oddly shaped. She glanced at Colt, hoping for a clue. He watched without expression, though she detected a flicker of something in his eyes—whether caution or hope, she couldn’t say.
“Open it and see,” Pa said.
She untied the strings and folded back the paper. A deer carved from pale wood stared up at her. “It’s beautiful.” She turned it and saw a tiny fawn clinging to the side of the mother animal. So delicate. So tender. Did he have any idea what this carving revealed of his feelings toward mothers and family? “Did you do this?”
“Had a lot of time on my hands last winter.”
“Look how nice it is.” She handed it to Pa, who agreed that it was indeed a nice piece of work.
The cowboys took turns looking at it.
“I saw carvings like this back in Quebec,” Eddie said. “The French Canadian Métis do a lot of this sort of work.” He handed it back to Becca. “You do excellent work, Colt.”
“Thank you.”
Becca wondered if Pa would want to keep it, or if she would be allowed to take it with her when she left tomorrow.
She would not think of what the day held. But if Pa approved, she would love to take this carving and the memories it represented.
It was the last of the gifts.
The children played happily, and the adults sat back to read their books while Becca completed meal preparations. Soon they gathered around the table and ate until they were full.
“The pudding was excellent,” Pa said. “As good as your ma made.”
“She taught me well.” If only she could erase the sorrow from Pa’s face.
Eddie, Roper and Ward prepared to leave soon after.
“Cookie ordered us to be back in time to spend the evening with the Eden Valley crew,” Eddie explained. “Thank you for a special Christmas.” He turned to the children. “Wherever you go, remember this day and how much fun we had.”
Marie nodded. “We will.”
Some hours later, after the children had fallen asleep with their new possessions tucked under the covers with them, Pa put on his coat and new mittens.
“I think I’ll go for a walk.”
“Do you want me to come?”
“No, daughter, I need to be by myself for a little while.”
She nodded. “I understand.”
“I won’t be long.”
She’d hoped for such an opportunity to talk to Colt, and poured him tea now. “This is our last evening together,” Becca murmured, not caring that she sounded as regretful as she felt.
“Knew it was coming.”
“Of course we did. Doesn’t mean I have to like it or welcome it.”
She waited, hoping for some sign that he welcomed her friendship, her caring. When he offered nothing, she pressed him further. “What will you do? Where will you go?”
“Look after horses like I always planned.” His voice carried a shrug.
She wanted to shake him from his stoic acceptance. “You could do something else. Give people a chance to know you.” Give yourself a chance to see that people can care. I care.
His eyes filled with longing so deep, it ached at her heart. She’d tried to make him see himself as worthy of love. He seemed so close to believing.
He studied the cup, turning it round and round. “Can’t change what is.”
“Exactly what is? Unfairness? Mean words from people like Mr. Thomas? I intend to do all I can to change that.”
He lifted his eyes to her then, and she caught a glimpse of hope and despair intermingling. “Don’t know how you can.�
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Suddenly she knew exactly what she could do. She had only to convince Colt. “We can change things.”
“We?” He snorted.
The sound broke the last of her restraint. “Yes, we. You and I love these children.”
He quirked an eyebrow.
“Don’t bother to deny it.”
His mouth fell open, and he stared. Closed his mouth and blurted out, “Love? I don’t even know what love is.”
“And yet you do. You love these kids. And I think you know God loves you. But you won’t let yourself believe it. Or maybe you are afraid to trust it, even though you likely want it more than anything in the world. Colt, let yourself believe in love. Start by believing in God’s love.”
“You mean the white man’s God?”
She ignored the bitterness in his voice and chuckled softly. “Have you read Genesis? Seems to me God created everything and everyone. So where does that leave your white man’s God argument?”
“That was in the beginning, when the world was perfect.”
“True. But man’s sin doesn’t negate God’s love. Just like in the beginning, we are all free to choose whether or not to believe.”
“What does this have to do with the kids?”
“Maybe more than you know. You said you didn’t know how to love. And I’m simply pointing out that love is available if you’re willing to believe it.”
“If you say so.”
“It isn’t that I say it. God says it. You feel up to arguing with Him?”
“If God is loving, then why don’t these kids still have their parents?”
“It’s easy to blame God, then refuse to help when it’s in our power.” She leaned forward and impaled him with her direct gaze. “You can give these children love. A home.”
His face darkened with anger. “Becca, I cannot give them a home because I don’t have one.”
“Then get one.”
He threw his hands into the air. “And do what? Leave them alone while I go hunting or breaking horses?”
