“I’m doing the best I can, Beau. I’ll find shelter soon.” Hank squinted and scanned the inhospitable landscape again. “Just a little farther. I promise.” He prayed he could deliver on that. The animals didn’t deserve to suffer because he couldn’t take care of them.
His eyes stung from the twisting wind, and he’d long lost the feeling in his feet and hands. Hank cursed the fact he had to be out in this storm at all. But he had nowhere to turn back to. The roads behind him were barricaded by mistakes and misfortune. There was nothing but pain and hurt back there. Forward was the only direction left—if he survived these freezing temperatures.
Surely he could find one place that welcomed a down-and-out man like him.
A few miles farther, he slid from the saddle and crumpled to the frozen ground. Snow drifted around him.
Directions didn’t matter much anymore. The only way was down.
His eyes drifted shut and he no longer felt the bitter cold.
* * *
Sidalee King tucked a third warm blanket around Mamie Tabor. The old woman’s rheumy eyes found hers. “Miss Mamie, please let me take you home with me. This place isn’t fit for a woman, especially a sick one. I’m worried about you. And it’s almost Christmas.”
“Child, this place’s as good as any. I won’t be a burden.” Mamie patted Sidalee’s hand. “I feel terrible that you had to traipse through this weather to tend to me. You’ll catch your death.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever known a more cantankerous woman.” Sidalee tenderly smoothed back the gray strands. Miss Mamie reminded her so much of her grandmother who had long passed. Mamie had seen eighty-four years come and go. Sidalee had discovered her by accident living in an abandoned line shack on the Lone Star Ranch almost two months ago.
“When my son, George, gets here, he’ll take me home with him,” Mamie murmured.
Sidalee prayed he came soon. His mother needed him. “Did he live near you? Maybe we can send someone for him.”
Confusion filled the old woman’s eyes. “I can’t recall. But I know he’ll find me.”
She coughed and the sound came from deep in her chest. She needed to be looked after, but her son seemed the only person left of her family. Miss Mamie had said that after she and her husband, Albert, lost everything they had in a house fire, they hitched up a wagon and came looking for someplace to start over. Except Albert died along the way. Lord only knew how Mamie had managed to roll him into a shallow grave and place rocks over him to keep the animals from scavenging. Then the horse had run off, leaving her afoot. She walked to the line shack that Stoker Legend had abandoned when he bought more land and built another crude shelter farther out.
And now she waited, though whether death or her son would come first was anyone’s guess.
“Don’t worry,” Sidalee reassured herself as much as Mamie. “George’ll come. Take some more of my cough cure.” Sidalee reached for the mixture of honey and lemon she’d brought and spooned some into Mamie’s mouth.
Misery filled her gaze. “You got better things to do than tend to a sick ol’ pitiful woman, child. Now git along before this weather gets worse.”
“Why are you trying to rush me out? Are you tired of my company?”
“Nope. I jus’ don’t want you to get caught out in this mess halfway between here and home.” Mamie forced a smile. “I never met a girl with as much kindness as you. You’re an angel.” Another coughing spell took Mamie’s breath.
Sidalee held a cup of water to her mouth and watched her sip. She glanced around the small one-room dwelling. It was clean enough inside, but with the dirt floor, drafty window, and a roof that leaked, it wasn’t fit for habitation. Yet Miss Mamie had dug in her heels and wasn’t budging. Not only that, she’d made Sidalee promise not to tell anyone about her. But she was sure Stoker Legend should know. The big rancher would come and take Mamie to a warm place where Doc Jenkins could look after her. And that’s exactly what she needed.
Stoker Legend was different from most ranchers. She’d never seen a more compassionate man, and he treated the people who worked for him like family. He would care for Miss Mamie.
Yet Sidalee wouldn’t go back on her word. She rose and added more wood to the fire. The supply was getting low, so she bundled up and went out to the wagon for the firewood she’d brought. The snow fell harder. Flakes stuck to her eyelashes. She’d have to start for home as soon as she finished tending to the poor, sick widow.
After carrying in the supply of wood, she dipped out some bean soup she’d set warming in the fireplace. Then she sliced off a thick slice of bread from the loaf she’d baked that morning and poured some milk.
Miss Mamie sat up on the bed’s thin mattress. “Bless you, my child. When I was a little girl, my mother used to cook bean soup, and the smell filled the whole house with goodness and love.” A wistful look filled her eyes. “Now everyone is all gone, even my Albert.” She glanced up. “Don’t ever outlive all your people, Sidalee. The loneliness gnaws at you every minute.”
What about her son, George? Had Miss Mamie forgotten about him? But then, she got confused at times.
“I’m sure it does.” Sidalee fought back tears and held Mamie’s hand; it was lined with wrinkles and blue veins. “But you have me. And George, don’t forget.”
Miss Mamie’s face lit up. “Oh, yes. I do have my George.”
Her heart ached for this woman who’d borne a son and toiled beside her husband, trying to scratch out a living in the red Texas dirt. Even though she hadn’t known Miss Mamie long, the woman had become like family.
Truth was, Sidalee didn’t have anyone either. She’d buried them all during a cholera epidemic. She remembered the huge bonfire when she had to burn everything they’d touched to prevent the spread. It had about killed her to part with treasured keepsakes, the house she’d grown up in, and everything she owned. Stoker had found her wandering the streets of Fort Worth and brought her here to the Lone Star Ranch to give her a new start. He’d built a small town here on the ranch—complete with a doctor, a schoolhouse, and a telegraph. Since he’d built the businesses, she had been the third person to operate the mercantile and split both profits and expense with Stoker. Despite the loneliness, it was a good life and she was young and strong.
While the old woman finished her soup, Sidalee tidied up the room and stuffed rags into the cracks in the walls. Maybe that would help keep in some of the warmth.
Finally, she gave the room one last glance. She’d done all she could. “I have to go now, Miss Mamie,” she said, washing up the soup bowl and putting it away. “Do you need anything else?”
“Nary a thing.” Mamie fumbled for a little bag she kept near, pulled out a stone, and handed it to Sidalee. “For your trouble. Wish I had more than a blasted rock to give you.” She waved her arm toward the door. “Now git.”
“I told you I don’t want any payment,” Sidalee scolded.
“Do an old lady a favor and take it.” Miss Mamie stuck it into Sidalee’s pocket. “Let me show my gratitude, little though it is.”
“If it puts a smile on your face, I reckon I won’t argue.” With a glass of fresh water on a crate beside the bed and the blankets tucked snugly around her friend, Sidalee bundled up. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Get some rest.”
“Be careful, child. Storms bring troubles. Don’t be forgettin’ that.”
Sidalee nodded and went out the door. Darn it, she hated to leave. George had better hurry and see about his mother. She forced herself to climb onto the seat of the buckboard and set it in motion before she could change her mind.
A mile from the line shack, the weather worsened until she could barely see. She heard the barking dog before she spotted it. She pulled back on the reins when she made out the black-and-white fur. Why was a border collie out here?
She looped the rigging around the brake and climbed do
wn. The poor thing would freeze to death. Maybe she could take him home with her until she could find where the animal belonged.
“Hey, boy, where do you live? I’ll bet you’re freezing.”
The dog came close enough to pet. But when she tried to pick him up, he skittered away, barking furiously.
“Come on, boy, it’s too cold out here. Let’s go home.”
Barking, the collie ran off the trail a ways and stood there, waiting. When she didn’t follow, he came back, barking insistently. He stood there a second, then ran back out where he had been, waiting for her.
“I don’t know what you’re trying to tell me, but I’ll follow you.” She climbed back into the buckboard and eased off the trail, across the snowy ground, trying to avoid the drifts. Sidalee prayed she didn’t get stuck. If she did, she’d spend the night here, for there’d be no one to come along.
She squinted through the haze, not sure what she was seeing. It was easy in a blinding storm to imagine things that weren’t there.
But maybe the dark clothing she glimpsed was real. She moved closer, calling for the dog.
A little farther, she spied the dog curled up next to a snow-covered man. A horse stood nearby. With her heart pounding, she gave a sharp cry and plowed through the knee-deep drifts as fast as she could, praying, hoping it wasn’t too late.
She brushed snow from the stranger’s high cheekbones and chiseled jaw. Was he dead?
The dog gave a pitiful whimper. Sidalee put her cheek next to the man’s mouth and was rewarded by a faint whisper of air.
He was alive!
“Mister, can you hear me?” There was no response. “I’m going to try to get you into the back of my buckboard.” Sidalee glanced at the length of him. He stood at least six feet, maybe more, and was muscular. Standing at five feet four inches in her wool stockings, accomplishing this would be difficult for her.
Her eyes swept to a gun belt and the deadly revolver in the holster. Maybe he was an outlaw on the run. For all she knew, he could be a killer.
Still, this man needed help, and she’d give him that, killer or no.
She pulled him to a sitting position, holding him to keep him from falling back. “Mister, I’d sure appreciate some help, if you’re able.”
Again no response.
Gently letting him back down, she scanned the landscape. Spying a wide ravine that would work, she drove the wagon into it and backed up where it was even with the ground where the stranger lay. Then she brought his horse around and let the animal do most of the work. Between the roan, her, and even the dog, that pulled with his teeth, they managed to get the half-frozen man into the wagon bed. She wished she hadn’t left every blanket with Miss Mamie. She could sure use one now. His threadbare coat would do little to warm him. The cow dog jumped up next to him and lay with his muzzle resting on his master’s chest. Tying the roan to the back, she drove toward home as fast as she dared.
“Don’t you die on me, mister!” she hollered over her shoulder.
She was not going to bury another soul. Not Miss Mamie and not this stranger.
Two
Before she pulled around the mercantile to her home, Sidalee glanced toward headquarters—the big stone house and ranch office that belonged to Stoker Legend. But she spied no one, not even one cowboy. The weather evidently had the rancher and all the hands indoors by the fire. She’d have to unload the stranger by herself.
She chewed her lip and maneuvered the buckboard as close as she could get to the door. After pulling, grunting, and dragging, she got the man into the modest dwelling but had no strength left to get him off the floor of the small parlor. He’d have to lie there for now.
The collie rushed in barking before she shut the door.
Sidalee ran into the bedroom and yanked her quilt off the bed, tucking it around the lanky stranger. All the exertion had worn her out, but she couldn’t rest yet. She threw several logs into the low blaze in the fireplace, then stoked the cookstove to add additional heat.
A glance out the window showed darkness falling. Soon it would be blacker than pitch. The snow had started to lessen some, however, and that was good news.
Now that she’d done all she could for the stranger at the moment, she trudged through the snow to Doc Jenkins’s house and rapped on the door. Surprise lit his face to find her in the circle of his lantern light.
“I’m sorry to bother you, Doc, but I need you bad.” She explained about the stranger and added, “Come quick.”
The doctor nodded and got his coat, bag, hat, and cane. Jenkins was a dapper man who dressed in three-piece suits like the important people of Fort Worth. It seemed to make no nevermind to him that he lived on a huge ranch in the middle of nowhere. He closed his door and hung his cane on his arm. No one had ever seen him use the cane. Just liked carrying it, she guessed. He was a good man of medicine, though, and often sat all night with his patients, so she supposed his fine airs didn’t do anyone harm.
“Where exactly did you find this stranger?” Doc helped her across a snowdrift.
“I had delivered some food to…uh, someone, and was coming back. It was about half a mile from here.” She’d almost messed up and mentioned Miss Mamie. She had to be more careful. “I noticed the dog first. He led me to the man. I’m not sure exactly how long he’d lain there. A good bit of snow had covered him.”
“It was quite fortunate for him that you were out, or he would’ve died.” He scowled at Sidalee. “I don’t hold with you traipsing out across the ranch in this weather, though. You should’ve gotten someone to go with you. Or sent a cowboy to deliver the food.”
Sidalee was saved having to reply when they reached her door. The minute she turned the knob, the doctor rushed in and knelt beside the stranger. She watched him take his temperature and listen to his heart.
“I need to get him off this floor, Sidalee.” He glanced up. “If you’ll run and get Jonas Harper from the blacksmith shop, he’ll help me get this man onto a bed. I don’t know how you got him this far, to tell the truth.”
“I’m stronger than I look, Doc,” she said softly. Sometimes a person had to find a way to achieve the impossible. She couldn’t leave him out in the cold. One more second could’ve made the difference between living and dying.
She wound the wool scarf back around her neck and pulled on her gloves. “I have more blankets in the bedroom. Want me to put the hot-water kettle on to heat?”
“I’ll do that and put some bricks in the oven to heat. Just go after Jonas.”
Sidalee’s breath lodged in her chest as she ran down the road to the blacksmith shop. She caught Jonas as he was leaving and told him Doc needed him. The man probably weighed three hundred pounds and stood six-feet-six. Jonas’s arms were almost bigger around than her waist.
Back at the house, Jonas lifted the stranger and carried him into the bedroom. Sidalee waited in the kitchen while they undressed their patient and got him under the covers.
Thoughts turned to the man she’d found. That threadbare coat he wore probably told the story. Everything the stranger had on him and in his saddlebags could be all he owned. Where did he live? She wondered if someone was expecting him to come home. Or…maybe this could be Miss Mamie’s son. How wonderful, if that were true. Christmas was sad when families couldn’t be together. This holiday was special and meant sharing, giving, and not being so very alone.
A few minutes later, the blacksmith came out, interrupting her thoughts. “Doc’s working on that fella. I have to get home to the missus.” He paused. “If you need anything, let me know. And I’ll take those horses out there to the barn. I’m sure they’re freezing.”
“Yes, the poor things have to be. Jonas, you’re a good man for doing that. Thank you. I didn’t want to leave until I was sure Doc wouldn’t need me.”
“Yes, ma’am. Happy to do it. I’ll give them some oats
and brush them down.” Jonas opened the door and stepped out.
Frigid air swirled into the room. Sidalee clutched her wool shawl closer and fixed a cup of hot tea for herself while she waited for the doctor to finish his examination. Thinking of supper, she put on the bean soup to warm.
She wondered how soon the man would be able to swallow some. That would thaw him out. And if he hadn’t roused, Doc could do with a bowlful himself. He had no wife at home.
The rock Miss Mamie had given her crossed her memory. She took it from her pocket. The grayish-black stone looked just like the others the old woman had given her—rough and ugly. It appeared the kind you could find scattered anywhere across the prairieland, but if Miss Mamie thought it was worth keeping, so would Sidalee. She got down the tin box that held all the others and added the new one to the stash. Lord, they were ugly.
Strange how the woman needed to give her something for her kindness.
Doc Jenkins called, asking for a hot-water bag. She filled one and took it into the bedroom along with the heated bricks. “How is he?”
Doc tucked the hot-water bag at the man’s feet, then wrapped the bricks in a light blanket and placed them along each leg. “I don’t think he lost any fingers or toes, but he was close. I’ll know more once I get his temperature to come up. He must have a guardian angel that led you to find him.”
“His guardian angel’s his dog.” She glanced at the pooch lying next to his master, his head on the man’s chest. “That dog wasn’t going to give up until I followed him.”
Doc scratched the dog behind the ears and was rewarded with a lick. “I’ve heard of dogs doing this when they’re devoted to their owners. He’s a pretty thing, and you can see love amid the worry in his eyes when he looks at his master.”
“I wonder who he is—the man, not the dog.” Sidalee stepped closer to look at him.
His midnight hair wasn’t overlong and spoke of taking pride in his appearance. The stubble that darkened his jawline said he’d shaved in the last two days. High cheekbones and the dark lashes laying against his ashen face made his features handsome. She couldn’t help but wonder about the color of his eyes. Would they be green, brown, blue, gray, or black like his hair?
Christmas in a Cowboy's Arms Page 19
