Christmas in a Cowboy's Arms

by Leigh Greenwood

  “It’s a shame you don’t have any paints,” Joe said, inspecting a drawing before he handed it to her to put on the wall. “It just doesn’t look like Christmas without color.”

  “Pete would never buy me any. No paper either. This is my last pad.”

  Pete used to get angry when she drew. But when she was drawing, she could pretend he didn’t exist. Joe was a part of her drawings. He was already in several.

  He liked to watch her. He said it pleased him to see the lines come to life, capturing a living scene. Her pleasure increased because of his. He would laugh and point to a cactus or a ridge that had just come into being. For a few minutes, it would seem he almost forgot the gold and the sentence hanging over his head.

  At times like that, it was terribly hard to remember he’d soon be gone.

  “Would you mind heating some water so Sarah can have a bath?” she asked.

  Joe gave Sarah an appraising glance. “The kid is rather dirty.”

  Taking a bath was not a simple operation. A fire had to be lit in the stove and water brought in from outside and heated in every available pot and pail. The tub had to be cleaned out and brought in from the shed. Last of all, the water had to be poured into the tub. Mary hadn’t been able to do this for months. Cloth baths just weren’t the same as soaking in a tub of hot water.

  “What about you?” Joe asked.

  “I’ll take cloth baths until after the baby comes,” Mary said. “I hate to ask you, but you’ll have to go outside until Sarah is finished.”

  “I do all the work, then I’m the one who gets to sit shivering on the front porch?”

  “I’m sorry, but it wouldn’t seem right to—”

  “Never mind. I need to dig a few more holes anyway.”

  The door opened with a protesting squeak. Joe reminded himself to put some bacon grease on it in the morning.

  * * *

  “You can take the bathtub out now,” Mary said.

  She was framed in the doorway, golden light behind her. Joe thought he’d never seen anyone so beautiful. Her thick, dark hair—very sensibly done up at the back of her head, with a few curls loose to soften the look—seemed jet-black in the dark, her skin nearly white by comparison. Her eyes glistened luminous and wide in a face that seemed too delicate for a land known to be hard on women.

  Joe got up off the porch steps. His joints felt stiff. It had stopped raining, and the stars had come out, but the night was too cold for sitting on stone steps. He was surprised to see the kid still in pants. “Why isn’t she wearing a dress? Girls ought to be clean and sweet-smelling, all curls and ruffles and bows. She still looks like a boy.”

  “She doesn’t have any dresses,” Mary said.

  “Why not?” Joe asked. He’d never heard of a girl having no dresses. It didn’t seem right.

  “Pete wouldn’t buy her any. He said she’d only tear them up and have to wear pants anyway.”

  “I wish I’d known. I’d have beaten the hell out of Pete when I had the chance.” He caught Mary’s stern look. “I’m sorry, but it’s enough to make a man cuss to see a little girl as pretty as the kid have to look like a boy because her bobcat-mean pa wouldn’t buy her a dress.”

  Mary brushed Sarah’s long auburn hair to help it dry faster. “I mean to do something about it as soon as I’m able.”

  Joe decided they ought to do something about it now. “You got some ribbon?”

  “Yes.”

  “How about some good-smelling powder?”

  Mary smiled. “Yes. What do you want it for?”

  “I want you to put the powder on the kid, the ribbon in her hair.”

  “Open the trunk and hand me the round box on the top. And a piece of red ribbon if I have any.”

  Joe found the box easily. The ribbon was another matter. He found a tangle of red, but it was too narrow for Sarah’s hair. He chose a yellow ribbon instead. “You can use the red to make bows for the tree,” he said. His grandmother had done that when he was a little boy. He handed the yellow ribbon to Mary, then turned to the tree. It was a pathetic mess. He couldn’t put bows on that. His grandmother would rise out of the grave and come after him.

  “We’ve got to have a better tree than that,” he said aloud. “That’s a disgrace. Are there any pines or junipers nearby?” he asked Mary.

  “There’re some up in the hills.”

  “After breakfast tomorrow, I’ll see what I can find.” He turned to see Sarah staring at him, eyes wide. The yellow ribbon was just the right shade to set off her hair. “See, I knew you were a pretty little thing. Pretty enough to have little boys giving each other black eyes over you.” He squatted in front of her. “Would you like a real tree?”

  Sarah nodded her head vigorously.

  Mary had dusted Sarah’s shoulders with white powder. Joe bent over and took a sniff.

  “Pretty as a picture, and you smell good, too. I know your mama would be proud as a peacock to see you. Now all you need is—”

  Sarah threw her arms around Joe and hugged him until he thought she was going to cut off his air. Slowly he let his arms slide around her. Her body seemed much too slight for such intense feeling. He didn’t know how to react. In his whole life, he’d never had a child hug him.

  For a while he thought she wasn’t ever going to let go. Then, quite as suddenly, she unclasped him and hid herself behind Mary.

  “I was going to say all you need is a dress,” he said, “but you’re pretty enough without it.” He stood up. His muscles felt as strange as his voice. “I guess it’s time I get myself over to the shed. Samson doesn’t like to go hunting unless he knows I’m tucked up tight.”

  * * *

  Joe needed some time alone. He was feeling at sixes and sevens. He was strongly attracted to Mary. That he understood, that he knew how to combat. But this business with the kid hugging him until she nearly choked him had caught him off guard. Mary had weakened him, and the kid had closed in for the kill.

  Not kill exactly, but he was down and sinking fast.

  He no longer thought Mary had anything to do with Pete’s thievery. If she found the gold, he was certain she would hand it over to him. She hadn’t even been interested enough to ask how much of it was hers.

  Despite the way he’d forced himself into her life, she had been gracious. She hadn’t been pleased when she found him going through her things, but she seemed to understand why he’d had to do it. That was a hell of a lot more than he’d expected. Flora would have screamed like a wildcat. His mother would have hit him up beside the head. Mary had accepted his explanation and put her gun away.

  No woman had ever taken his word for anything. Except his grandmother.

  Mary had every reason to throw him out, but she greeted him with a smile sweeter than a spring sunrise. She talked to him about little things, things you talked about with people you felt comfortable around.

  But now the kid had hugged him and his comfort had fled. There was something about a kid hugging you that was unlike anything else in the world. There must be a special soft spot in every man reserved for little girls. He had seen men who wouldn’t hesitate to commit almost any evil reduced to tears by the plight of a child, but he’d never suspected that he was similarly susceptible. But he was, and the kid had scored a bull’s-eye on her first throw. He wanted to march right back in there, give her a hug, and promise her that Christmas was going to be just as wonderful as she hoped.

  But he couldn’t. He had to find the gold and be gone before then. The longer he stayed, the greater the danger that the law would find him. He was foolishly letting Mary and the kid distract him from his goal. He’d spent no more than an hour looking for the gold today.

  He dropped to his bed in the straw and pulled his bedroll around him. He’d start checking beneath all the stones in the yard tomorrow. After he and the kid found a d
ecent Christmas tree. He couldn’t stand the thought of her pinning all her hopes on that bundle of twigs.

  And Mary and her baby?

  That was a tough one.

  Four

  The kid was helping Joe fix the chimney when he heard Mary mutter something under her breath. He looked around the corner of the cabin to where she sat on the porch.

  “The preacher and his sister are coming,” she said, “Brother Samuel and Sister Rachel Hawkins.”

  Joe hadn’t intended to fix the chimney this morning, or any other morning. He had been inspecting the cabin to see if any stones showed signs of having been removed recently. A few stones in the chimney were loose.

  Once he realized that there was nothing behind them but more stones, his excitement had died down, to be replaced by a dull fear that he would never find the gold. Then he decided to reset the stones properly rather than just shove them back into place.

  He had almost finished the job when Brother Samuel and Sister Rachel drove into the yard. Joe could tell at a glance that he wasn’t going to like them.

  From the look of things, they weren’t going to like him any better. Brother Samuel frowned as though he’d just come upon a condemned sinner and didn’t like the smell. Sister Rachel looked as if she’d never had any fun in her life and was determined that nobody else would have any either. They were both dressed in black.

  Joe didn’t like black. It depressed him. Seemed it had depressed Brother and Sister Hawkins, too.

  Samson had been lying next to Mary’s chair. But when the Hawkinses got down from their buggy, he rose to his feet, a growl deep in his throat.

  “Good morning,” Mary said, greeting the pair without getting up. She patted Samson until the growls stopped. “It’s awfully kind of you to drive so far to see me.”

  “It didn’t seem so far,” Brother Samuel said. “The morning is brisk, the sun heartening.”

  “I’ve been expecting to see you in town,” Sister Rachel said. “You know my brother can’t think of you out here alone without becoming distressed.” Brother Samuel helped his sister mount the porch steps. She walked around Samson to take the chair Mary offered her. Brother Samuel chose to stand.

  “I know I look as big as a cow, but I’ve got another month,” Mary told her. “Besides, if all goes well, I mean to have the baby here.”

  “Surely you don’t mean to have it by yourself.”

  “Oh, no. I’ll hire someone to stay with me.”

  “I’d feel so much better if you would move to town now,” Brother Samuel said. “I’m most concerned about you.”

  “I can’t afford the cost of putting Sarah and myself up in a hotel for a month.”

  “I’m sure the ladies of Pine Flat would be glad to offer you and Sarah places to stay.”

  Joe wondered why neither brother nor sister offered to take Sarah and Mary into their own home.

  “I couldn’t be separated from Sarah,” Mary replied, “not after her losing both her mother and her father. Neither could I settle myself on anyone. I won’t have a friend in the world if I start doing that.”

  “You’ll have a friend in us no matter what you do.”

  “We’d offer to keep you with us,” Sister Rachel said, “but we’re away from home nearly all the time.”

  “Nonetheless, you can stay with us if it will convince you to come to town.”

  Joe noticed that Sister Rachel didn’t look quite so enthusiastic as her brother. He guessed Brother Samuel was in the habit of offering haven to people and leaving Sister Rachel to do all the work.

  “I didn’t know you had hired a man to work for you,” Brother Samuel said, eying Joe.

  “Oh, he’s not a hired hand. He’s Pete’s old partner…”

  Mary’s lips formed Joe’s name, but she didn’t say it.

  Brother Samuel didn’t come down the steps to shake hands with Joe. The inclination of his head was the only acknowledgment he made of their introduction.

  “Pete’s been dead six months. What’s he doing here now?” Sister Rachel asked.

  “He’s here to…” Mary’s voice trailed off.

  “…to settle a partnership,” Joe said, leaving his work and coming around the corner.

  “Then why are you fixing the chimney?” Sister Rachel demanded.

  “It needed fixing.”

  “It’s not suitable!”

  “I’m not a stonemason, but I think it’ll hold up for a while.”

  “My sister means it’s not suitable for you to be staying with a single woman without proper chaperonage.”

  “I should think her belly and the kid are chaperones enough.”

  Joe’s answer was mild enough, but he felt anger boiling up inside him. Who the hell was this man to come in here and stick his nose in their business? Joe had read the Bible, and he didn’t remember anything giving preachers permission to interfere in other people’s affairs. Sister Rachel’s shocked response to his answer amused him. The old biddy would probably fall down dead if a man so much as kissed her.

  “In that case, I don’t imagine you’ll be staying long,” Brother Samuel said. He didn’t appear to be quite as shocked as his sister. He seemed angry. Joe suddenly wondered if the reverend brother had designs on Mary for himself. She was certainly pretty enough to tempt a man, even a cold fish like the reverend.

  “I probably won’t be here longer than a couple more days,” Joe said. “Mary was a little run-down when I arrived. I’d like to be sure she’s back on her feet before I leave.”

  “Why didn’t you tell us you were unwell?” Sister Rachel asked. “I’d have come right away. In fact, I’ll stay with you now. Samuel will just have to do without me for a few days.”

  “That’s not necessary,” Mary hastened to assure them. “I’m feeling much like my old self. I know your brother depends quite heavily on you, especially during the Christmas season. No, I’m fine now.”

  “If you’re sure.”

  Joe would have sworn Sister Rachel was disappointed. Maybe she would have appreciated some relief from the heavy duties of the season.

  “Will you be stopping by town when you leave?” Brother Samuel inquired of Joe.

  “Probably,” Joe replied. “I imagine I’ll need to pick up a few things.”

  “We have other calls to make, so we’d better be on our way,” Brother Samuel said to Mary as he helped his sister down the steps. “I’ll be looking for you in town in a day or two,” he said to Joe. “I know you wouldn’t do anything that might damage Mrs. Wilson’s reputation, but you can’t be too careful. People will talk.”

  “They’d better not within my hearing,” Joe answered.

  Brother Samuel looked as though he hadn’t expected that answer. His smile was uncertain.

  “We’ll be expecting you and Sarah in town to stay right after the New Year,” Sister Rachel said to Mary. “If not, I’m coming to stay until after the baby arrives.”

  “I’ll let you know,” Mary said. She got to her feet but didn’t go down the steps.

  Joe went back to his work, but he kept watch until Brother Samuel and Sister Rachel had disappeared over the ridge. “I wonder where Sister Rachel left her broomstick?” he said to no one in particular. “Bound to be faster than that old buggy.”

  Mary laughed, then tried to pretend she hadn’t.

  * * *

  Mary eased down on the bed and leaned against the mound of pillows. She had to do some serious thinking. She couldn’t have Brother Samuel thinking she would become his wife. He had never asked her, but she couldn’t fail to notice the look in his eye.

  She had been given no opportunity to dispel his illusions, but she would never marry him. She felt lucky to have survived her marriage to Pete, and she had no intention of putting herself in that trap again.

  She wanted a quiet, s
table life, not one manipulated by a man.

  Yet she didn’t want Joe to leave. She had felt her heart lurch when he said he’d see Brother Samuel in town in a couple of days. Already she had come to depend on him, to look forward to his company.

  It was impossible not to compare the two men. Brother Samuel was an ardent man, even a passionate one, but his passion had nothing to do with the flesh. Being around Joe had made Mary very aware of her physical nature. It was impossible to look at him and not feel the magnetism of his presence. He was simply the kind of man who made a woman achingly aware of her femininity. Even pregnant, he made her feel desirable.

  Mary decided that was a dangerous situation. It would undoubtedly be safer if Joe did meet Brother Samuel in town and then continued on to California. But she knew her life would be very empty if he left.

  Her mother had warned her she wouldn’t always be able to find love where she wanted it. Was she looking for it with Joe?

  * * *

  Joe was jealous. There was no point in denying it. From the moment that man drove into the yard, he had felt it gnawing at his insides. He hadn’t recognized it at first, but he did now.

  He was jealous of the Reverend Brother Samuel Hawkins.

  He looked around. There was nothing that could remotely be considered a Christmas tree. Sarah rode behind him, her little pinto struggling to keep up with his big gelding. Samson loped ahead, on the lookout for coyotes. The low hills were covered with a scattering of vegetation—mesquite, catclaw, and ironwood all looking much alike; ocotillo and prickly pear cactus; spiky agave with their tall blooming stalks; assorted grasses and bushes.

  But no pines or junipers.

  They would have to go higher if they were to find a Christmas tree.

  Could he be falling in love? He couldn’t allow that to happen. But wasn’t that what being jealous meant? He’d only loved two women, and both of them had sent him away. Mary had tried—even held a gun on him. He didn’t know if she had changed her mind, but he knew he wasn’t the kind of man she wanted or the kind who would be good for her. She’d send him away in the end.