Christmas in a Cowboy's Arms

by Leigh Greenwood

  “You mean, she thinks I did that?” Joe asked.

  “Her father used to hit her mother. I saw him hit Sarah once. I told him if he ever hit her again, or me, I’d kill him.”

  Joe looked at Sarah and felt anger surge through him. He wasn’t proud of a lot of things he’d done, but he’d never hurt a child. “Why the hell did you think I’d hurt Mary?” he demanded.

  “She doesn’t,” Mary assured him. “She’s just frightened. She doesn’t know what to think.”

  “Do I look like I’m beating her?” Joe demanded, his own worry finding release in anger.

  Sarah stared up at him, frightened.

  “I’m trying to help her have this baby,” Joe said, “and I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. I can’t figure it out if I’ve got you biting and scratching like a bobcat.”

  “She won’t,” Mary said, hugging the child to her. “You won’t, Sarah. I’m going to scream a lot more. Joe’s helping. You’ve got to help too.”

  As though to prove her words, Mary went rigid and cried out. Joe jumped to her side, holding her hand, supporting her until the pain released its grip.

  “The baby is almost here,” Mary said. “See if its head is showing.”

  “Huh?” Joe said, stunned.

  “See if it’s showing. If it is, you’ve got to get ready for it.”

  “Can’t Sarah do it?”

  “No.”

  Joe had never been shy around women, but this was different. He felt that in some way he was violating Mary, and that went against his grain.

  “What am I supposed to look for?”

  “The muscles have to relax to allow the baby to pass. If you can see the top of its head, you know it will be born soon.”

  It was easy for Joe to clear his head of coherent thoughts. He didn’t have any. To pretend he wasn’t doing what he was doing was more difficult.

  “I see it,” he said, so excited he forgot his embarrassment. “I can see almost the whole top.”

  “Good,” Mary said. “Then I might not die before it’s born.”

  Another excruciating pain caused her to cry out.

  “Hold her hand,” Joe told Sarah. “I think it’s getting ready to come.”

  It seemed to Joe that the pains came one right after another, giving Mary no time to rest or recover in between. Then it was all over, and he held a baby girl in his hands. He stared down at the child, unable to believe he had just witnessed the birth of another human being, the beginning of a brand-new life. He had looked like this once. So had Mary, Pete, and Sarah. Someday this baby would be a grown woman and have her own children.

  It was amazing, incredible, unbelievable.

  The baby’s cry brought Joe out of his daze. “It’s a girl,” he said, handing the infant to her mother. “And she looks like you.”

  Mary was exhausted, but she managed a smile. “She doesn’t look like anybody yet. But she’s beautiful just the same.”

  “She’s all messed up,” Sarah said.

  Mary laughed. “Yes, she is. Why don’t you help Joe clean her up?”

  “Me!” Joe was counting himself lucky to have done nothing wrong so far. “I’ll bring the water to you,” he said. “I don’t know a thing about washing babies.”

  “It’s simple.”

  “Maybe, when I’m not shaking so much.” He held his hand up in front of him. It was quivering.

  Mary managed a weak smile. “Maybe you’d better let Sarah bring me the water.”

  Joe turned away from the bed and came up short. Samson sat by the door, his gaze following every movement. Outside, General Burnside and the cow stood with their noses to the window, their breath fogging the panes. They looked as if they had been watching the entire proceedings. “I forgot all about them,” he said, turning to Mary. “The presents are still tied to the saddle, and Queen Charlotte hasn’t been milked.”

  “Then you’d better take care of them,” Mary said. “Sarah and I will try to have everything cleaned up by the time you get back.”

  Joe stumbled out the door, too dazed by the events of the last few hours to be aware of the cold or that Samson had followed him. Like a man in a trance, he caught up General Burnside’s reins. Queen Charlotte followed on her own.

  “Did you see what just happened?” he asked the animals. “Mary had a baby. It’s a tiny little thing, so tiny you can hardly imagine it growing up into a real person.”

  He began to untie the ropes that held the packages to General Burnside’s back.

  “One minute there were just three of us. Next minute there were four. A brand-new person, just like that.” He snapped his fingers.

  Samson was sniffing the packages, with particular attention to the ones containing the ham and bacon.

  “She’s got little tufts of black hair all over her head. She’s all wrinkled up from being squeezed inside Mary. Can’t be too much room inside a little woman like that, even for a tiny baby. Leave that alone,” Joe spoke sharply to Samson. “That’s Christmas dinner.”

  He put all the packages inside the shed and closed the door on Samson. He unsaddled General Burnside and turned him into the corral.

  “Okay, it’s your turn, Queen Charlotte.” He patted her side as he settled himself on the milking stool. He looked again, then ran his hand carefully along her side. “Looks like you’ll be having a little one come spring,” he said, the streams of milk beginning to hit the pail with rhythmic smoothness. As the milk filled the pail, the high ping thickened until it more closely resembled a rip in a piece of fabric.

  “You get busy on those coyotes,” he said to Samson. “We can’t leave any hanging around. We don’t want Queen Charlotte here to lose another calf. And no telling what they might do to a baby girl. No, sir, you get up off your haunches and get going.”

  Almost on cue, a coyote yip-yipped somewhere in the hills close by. A second answered.

  “See, I told you there was work to be done.” But Samson had already disappeared into the night on silent feet, a growl deep in his throat.

  Joe finished milking the cow and let her into the corral. He looked toward the house, at the light shining brightly through the window in the dark night, and felt a wonderful sense of peace. The horse and cow were in the corral, the chickens were safe in their pen, and it was warm and secure inside the house where Mary, Sarah, and the baby awaited his return. Everything he’d ever wanted was right here.

  Only he had to leave.

  But he couldn’t, not until he was sure Mary and the baby were all right. He was worried about her. She looked so worn out. Sister Rachel was coming on Christmas. He couldn’t leave until then.

  Tomorrow was Christmas Eve. He had to help Sarah make a bow for the front door. And he wanted to see her open her presents on Christmas morning. He wanted her to have some pretty dresses, but the biggest reason for staying was to see the expression on her face when she unwrapped them.

  He wanted her to know her mother still remembered her.

  He’d stay until Christmas. Then he’d go.

  Six

  Mary had never felt so happy or content. She held her daughter in her arms, the infant nursing contentedly. Sarah bustled about helping Joe fix breakfast for all three of them. Nothing more was needed to make Mary’s life complete. It was all here in this small cabin.

  She loved Joe. She was comfortable with that now. It would never change. But she knew he couldn’t stay. It would mean capture and return to prison with very little chance that he would get out for a long time.

  “Have you been thinking of a name for her?” Joe asked.

  “I had several in mind.”

  “Like what?”

  “Elizabeth. Anne. Ruth.”

  “They’re such sober names. Don’t you think a greedy little puss like her ought to have a different kind of name?”
<
br />   The baby nursed with noisy, slurping sounds. “What did you have in mind?”

  “I haven’t known many good women, but I think Holly’s okay.”

  “Holly,” Mary said half to herself. “It is a nice name. It makes her sound strong, bright-eyed, and ready to fight if she needs to.”

  “Like right now.”

  Mary was changing Holly to the other side, and the infant screamed her anger at having her meal interrupted.

  “I think Holly is a fine name,” Mary said. “I’ll always think of you when I call her name.”

  The silence that fell made them both painfully aware that their time together was drawing to a close.

  “You haven’t found the gold.”

  “No.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Go to California. Somewhere else, if I have to. Maybe after a while I can come back and look for it again.”

  She knew he wouldn’t. If he didn’t find it now, he would never come back.

  “When do you have to go?” She didn’t want to know the answer, but she had to ask.

  “Christmas. I got a few presents in town.”

  Her eyes filled with tears. Her husband had caused him to be sent to jail. She had caused him to risk being caught. Still he had taken the time to buy presents for them. How could anybody believe he’d stolen that gold? “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “It’s not much, just some little things.”

  The baby finished eating. She rewarded Mary with an enormous burp. “That’s what you get for eating too fast,” Mary said, but her smile and tone turned her censure into words of love. “Here, why don’t you hold her while I eat?”

  “Me?” Joe said.

  Mary smiled. He always seemed to be saying that, like there were things he’d never considered he could do. “She’s a lot nicer to hold now than she was last night.”

  “I don’t—”

  “All you have to do is put her in the crook of your arm. Come here, and I’ll show you.”

  Joe approached reluctantly.

  “Put your arm across your chest,” Mary said.

  He did, and she placed the baby in his arm. He immediately clamped her against his chest with his other arm. He was certain he would drop her before he made it to the chair so he could sit down. Holly looked up at him with the biggest black eyes he’d ever seen.

  Joe walked to the chair with small, stiff-legged steps. He felt as if he’d never walked before, as if his legs had forgotten how. He practically fell into the chair. Holly continued to look at him with her big eyes.

  “She ought to go to sleep in a few minutes,” Mary said as she prepared to get up.

  “Stay in that bed.” Joe’s order was so sharp that Holly started to cry. He held her a little closer and, miraculously, she stopped. “You’re too weak to get up,” he said in a hushed voice. “Sarah can bring your breakfast to you.”

  “I feel fine. I—”

  “You can get up this afternoon. For now, you stay where you are.”

  Satisfied that Mary would remain in bed, Joe turned his attention back to Holly. Mary had dressed her in a soft flannel gown that was twice her size. She looked too small to be real. He rubbed her cheek with his callused finger. It was incredibly soft. She opened her mouth wide and yawned. She took hold of his finger with her hand. It looked absurdly small, too small to encircle his finger.

  She closed her eyes but continued to hold on to his finger. He thought her pug nose was cute. He supposed it would grow to look like her mother’s, but it was just the right kind of nose for a baby. He compared her fingers to his own. She had the same number of joints, the same wrinkles at the knuckles, fingernails—everything he had, only so much smaller.

  She was asleep in his arms. It almost made him want to cry, and she wasn’t even his kid.

  Something turned over inside Joe. This was what he wanted—Mary, Sarah, and Holly. He wouldn’t ask anything more of life if he could have that much. He understood love now. He could trust his feeling for Mary and hers for him. Holly had made him understand that he could love and be loved.

  “You better give her to me,” Mary said. “You need to find that gold.”

  Joe’s gaze locked with hers. “If I do?”

  “Then you won’t have to leave.”

  Joe couldn’t speak for a few minutes. “Are you sure? I’ve never had a family. I might not be good at it. I’ll always be an ex-con.”

  “I don’t care. I never met a man like you, Joe. I didn’t think there was one. I don’t know why you should be so different from Pete, my father, and all the other men I’ve known, but you are. Sarah knows it. Even Holly. Look at her sleeping. She knows she’s safe as long as you’re holding her.”

  Joe hadn’t thought about it that way, but he knew there wasn’t much he wouldn’t do to protect this child. He managed to lever himself out of the chair without waking Holly. He handed her over to Mary.

  “I’m going to make her a cradle. She ought to have a bed of her own. Then I’m going to turn this place inside out. I’ve still got twenty-four hours to look for the gold.”

  * * *

  “Is Joe going to leave?” Sarah asked.

  “I hope not,” Mary said.

  “Why can’t he stay?”

  Mary was reluctant to tell Sarah the truth, but she knew she would have to learn it some day. “Pete stole some gold and blamed Joe for it. They put him in jail. He broke out so he could find the gold and prove he didn’t steal it. Pete buried the gold here, but Joe can’t find it. He has to leave, or they will put him back in jail.”

  “Can’t we go with him?”

  Mary felt excitement leap within her. Why hadn’t she thought of that? It was so simple, so obvious. “Would you want to go with him?”

  “Joe’s nice. I want him to be my papa. He said he would like having a little girl like me.”

  “I’m not sure he would let us go. Joe’s a very proud man. He’d probably feel he couldn’t share his name with us if he couldn’t do it without fear of being put back in jail. If he could just find the gold, everything would be all right. Can you remember anything unusual Pete did when he came home?”

  Sarah shook her head.

  “I know you were afraid of him, but please try to remember. Anything might help Joe. Now you’d better finish cleaning up. I’m going to take a nap. I promised I’ll be strong enough to help with dinner.”

  But Mary’s thoughts weren’t on dinner or getting stronger. She was trying to think of some way to convince Joe to take her and the children with him.

  * * *

  Joe had never built a cradle, but it wasn’t a difficult task. There were tools for everything in the shed. He bet Pete had never used half of them. “We can’t have Holly sleeping on Mary’s bed,” he said to Samson. The big dog sat watching everything he did. “She’s pretty quiet now, but she won’t be for long. She could roll right out of that bed.”

  He tested the cradle. “The runner isn’t smooth enough,” he told Samson. “You can’t expect a baby to go to sleep when you’re bouncing it all to bits.” He turned the cradle over and started to file down some of the ridges. “Of course, she can’t stay in this cradle forever. As soon as she’s able to pull up, she’ll have to have a crib. We don’t want her falling out on her head.”

  Samson yawned.

  “I know this isn’t as exciting as hunting coyotes, but you don’t have to be rude. Go talk to General Burnside if you’re so bored.”

  But Samson just yawned again, rested his head on his paws, and continued to watch Joe.

  “I think that’ll do it,” Joe said when the cradle finally rocked smoothly. “It doesn’t look very fancy, but it’ll give her a place to sleep.” Joe picked up the cradle and started toward the cabin. “Well, come on,” he said to Samson when the dog didn’t mov
e. “I don’t think Sarah’s scared of you anymore. At least, she won’t be if you behave yourself. Just go inside, lie down, and keep quiet.”

  Samson followed Joe into the house. Sarah did look a little apprehensive, but when the big dog lay down, she looked relieved.

  “It didn’t seem a good thing, the three of you sleeping in that bed together,” Joe said as he set the cradle on the floor next to the bed. “Somebody could roll over on that baby and never know it.”

  Tears pooled in Mary’s eyes. “That was very thoughtful of you, Joe.”

  “You want me to fix it for her now?”

  “No, I’d rather hold her.”

  “Well, I’ll be outside taking the place apart if you need me,” Joe said as he backed out of the room. “Just give a yell if you need anything.”

  * * *

  “Now, Samson,” Joe said once they were outside, “I want you to put coyotes completely out of your mind and concentrate on gold. Unless you want to wear out your feet trotting all the way to California, we got to find it before nightfall.”

  The hours of the afternoon stretched longer and longer. Mary could hear Joe as he moved about the ranch, digging, sounding for hollow spaces, cursing when another idea proved to be as useless as the previous ones. She prayed he would find the gold. She knew she would never find another man like Joe. She could never love anyone else the way she loved him.

  She marveled to herself. She had known him less than a week, yet it seemed they had always known each other. It was as if they were the missing halves of each other. Now that they were together, it was as though they had never been apart.

  She looked down at Holly. She wanted more babies—Joe’s babies.

  “Did you find anything?” Mary asked Joe when he came in, a full milk pail in hand, to begin supper. She knew the answer, but she kept hoping he would say something to give her hope. She couldn’t give up yet.

  “No, but I got a few more places to look.”

  “It’ll soon be dark.”

  “I can use a lantern.”

  “You’re never going to find it, Joe. You know that.”

  “There’s always a chance that…”