Though it had been five days since he’d collapsed on the parlor floor, he still didn’t have his full strength back and tired easily. Nevertheless, he’d insisted upon getting out of bed for his meals. If he had any hope of gaining back his stamina, he needed to get moving.
The three of them sat at the table in the small but tidy kitchen. Mrs. Carnes had strapped Adam to a chair so he wouldn’t fall.
The lady was full of surprises—contradictions, more like it. She was plainspoken and ran the farm in a direct, no-nonsense way, yet her windows were dressed in ruffled curtains. Vases of late-blooming sunflowers graced her tables and counters. She was brusque at times with him, but always gentle with her son. She used words like ain’t and druthers, yet set the table with a linen tablecloth and an assortment of fine-looking china. Odder still, she spent her evenings poring over a book of grammar as if it were some sort of treasure map. When questioned about it, she’d said she wanted to learn to speak good and proper-like for her son.
Drawing his napkin to his mouth, Cole sighed with contentment. He’d almost forgotten what a real home was like.
It was only three weeks till Christmas. That meant his company would remain camped in Austin till the first of the year. The thought of spending another holiday in cramped winter quarters with a bunch of rowdy men hadn’t bothered him before. Shouldn’t bother him now, but it did.
The realization made him grimace. A week away from his line of duty, and already he’d grown used to the comforts of home. Another week of Mrs. Carnes’s hospitality and he’d be a goner for sure.
He’d fully expected the Carpenter brothers to have been captured by now. Blast his bullet wound! Lying around was not in his nature. Come January, he expected to be fully operational and would make up for lost time. Meanwhile, he may as well enjoy the widow’s hospitality. Starting tomorrow, he intended to show his gratitude by doing a little work around the farm, strength permitting.
He reached for another biscuit. “I have to say, ma’am, this meal is fit for a king.”
Mrs. Carnes smiled and color rushed to her cheeks. It wasn’t often that she smiled, but when she did, it lit up the whole room, and tonight was no different. Aware suddenly that he was staring, he set to work mopping up the last bit of gravy on his plate.
“Hope you saved room for apple pie,” she said, clearing the table.
He met her gaze. “You bet.”
There it was again, that smile. Suddenly he was having trouble breathing. Adam babbled something that sounded like “oh, ah, ah,” and Cole gratefully used it to break whatever hold she had on him.
“I think he wants pie too,” Cole said.
She carried the dirty dishes to the sink, laughing, a sweet musical sound that reminded him of a songbird. “That boy sure does have an appetite.”
Sucking in his breath, Cole reminded himself that she was a recent widow. “How did you and Richard meet?” Hearing her talk about her late husband was bound to take his mind off the intriguing way her eyes softened when she looked at her son. Or how she puckered her pretty pink lips to drop a kiss on the child’s blond head.
Now he could almost see the wheels turning as she considered how to answer his question. “Richard and I pretty much grew up together,” she said at last. “Old man Carnes was a preacher and started the church here in town.” She returned to the table carrying a pie and knife. “He wanted his son to follow in his footsteps, but Richard had other ideas. Soon as he turned eighteen, he left to join the Rangers.”
She stopped to dab the drool off her son’s chin before continuing. “He returned to town for his father’s funeral. When he found out my grandfather had died and I was struggling to save the farm, he asked me to marry him. Said he had enough of the Rangers and wanted to settle down.” She scoffed. “Turned out to be a lie.”
Cole tried to picture Richard as a farmer and couldn’t. Richard had avoided doing anything that required physical labor. “How long were you two married?”
She sliced a piece of pie before answering, her face tight as it always was whenever she spoke of her husband. “We were married for a year and a half, but he took off after only three months.”
Cole’s eyebrows shot up. “What happened?”
“He said farming wasn’t for him. It was too much work, and he missed the excitement of the Rangers. We argued and that was the last I saw of him.”
It wasn’t the first time Cole had heard such a story. Hard as it was to be a ranger, it somehow got into a man’s blood, and woe to the woman who loved him.
“Surely he sent you money. Something for the boy.”
Her eyes blazed with accusatory lights. “He didn’t know about Adam.”
Cole sat back in his chair. “Didn’t know?”
“He never told me how to reach him.” She shrugged. “Figured he didn’t want me to know.”
Cole shook his head. Great Scott! No wonder Carnes had never mentioned a child. Come to think about it, he’d hardly mentioned having a wife. “So that’s why you accused me of lying to you.”
She shrugged. “Hard to believe Richard would whittle something for a son he didn’t know he had.”
Cole felt bad—real bad. He hated knowing that one of his men had made such a mess of his personal life. He prided himself on picking the best men, men who were of good moral character. Men who didn’t get drunk or cause a ruckus. Men who didn’t shirk responsibility.
“I just wanted the boy to have something to remember his father by. I’m sure that’s what Richard would have wanted.”
She cut a second slice of pie and scooped it onto a plate. Before handing the pie over to him, she sought his eyes. “Was…Richard a good ranger?” When Cole hesitated, she slammed the plate on the table in front of him. “And I want the truth. So don’t go saying he was, if he wasn’t.”
The truth? If only it was that simple. Carnes had deserted his responsibilities here at home. That made him less than a man in Cole’s eyes, but he couldn’t say that, however much he was tempted.
“You can tell Adam that his father was a fine ranger and died a noble death,” he said.
A look of gratitude and maybe even relief crossed her face. “I’ll tell Adam that,” she said. “Soon as he’s old enough to understand.”
* * *
Sadie had just put Adam down for his afternoon nap that second week in December when a hammering sound drew her to the kitchen window.
“Dang that man!” Now the ranger was on the barn roof, hammering down shingles. Last week, after he spent the day repairing the fence, he’d run a fever and had to spend two days in bed.
Now here he was at it again, overdoing it.
She pulled a woolen shawl from a peg by the back door and stepped outside. The wind was cold, and angry clouds crowded in from the north like a bunch of wooly sheep.
Upon reaching the barn, she yelled up to him, “If you fall and break your neck, don’t come runnin’ to me!”
He peered over the edge of the roof. His nose was red from the cold and his hair tossed about like sails in the wind, but he sure was a sight for sore eyes. “I guess I’d just have to wait till your friend Scooter came.”
She balled her hands at her side. “I’d think you’d have a little consideration for my reputation.”
His eyebrows quirked upward. “I’m not sure I understand what you mean.”
“How do you think it looks for a woman to entertain a man that’s not her husband?”
She’d not yet told anyone of Richard’s death. She didn’t want friends and neighbors coming to her door to express condolences until after the ranger was long gone.
He shrugged. “Isn’t it a little late to worry about that? Some of your neighbors already know I’m here.”
“I told them my husband sent you here to recover from your bullet wound.”
“Your husband sent me. T
hat might be hard to explain when the truth comes out.”
“That’s my problem.” She tossed her head. “I mean it, Captain.” She grabbed hold of the ladder and gave it a good shaking. “If you don’t come down, I’ll see that you’re stuck up there for good!”
“Why, Mrs. Carnes, is that a threat?”
She glared up at him. “You’ve already had one relapse, and I’m not about to take care of you for another.”
“Okay, okay, I’ll come down, but only on one condition.”
She straightened, hands at her waist. “What?”
“You stop calling me Captain. My name is Cole.”
“Not gonna happen,” she said. Calling him by his given name would only strengthen the bond between them, and she couldn’t allow that. It was hard enough trying not to like the man more than was absolutely necessary.
“Why not?” he asked.
“I never name an animal I plan on eating, and I sure don’t aim on naming a man who’ll soon be gone.”
“All right, Mrs. Carnes. Have it your way. But could you at least tell me what your Christian name is? I promise not to use it unless you say it’s okay.”
She chewed on a bottom lip. “Sadie,” she said. “And I don’t want you calling me that, you hear?”
“Nice name,” he said. “It suits you.”
She didn’t know what he meant by that and she wasn’t about to ask. “So what’s it gonna be, Captain?” She grabbed hold of the ladder and rattled it. “You coming down or ain’t you?”
“Oh, I’ll come down, Mrs. Carnes. But only because I don’t want you complaining about me to your husband.”
Five
A week later, Sadie peered out of her kitchen window and shook her head. Cole was at it again. If he wasn’t on the roof or mucking the barn, he was oiling the windmill and repairing the farm equipment.
Under Cole’s watch, the battle with the fox had turned into an all-out war. Traps now dotted the yard, and fences were reinforced with wire. So far, nothing had worked, but today he had a new plan and that was to drench the yard with ammonia. She only hoped it was as offensive to the fox as it was to her.
She dropped the curtain in place and finished washing the breakfast dishes. Just as she placed the last bowl in the cabinet, Cole stomped into the house, hauling a tree.
She blinked. “What in the world?”
“It’ll soon be Christmas,” he said. “Thought the little fella needed a Christmas tree.”
She followed him into the parlor. “Is that what you call it?” The drought had taken its toll on trees and shrubbery. By the time Cole stood the pine in a bucket of coal, the branches had parted company with half the needles.
“Sorry.” A sheepish grin spread across his face. “It’s the best I could find. Have any ornaments?”
“In the attic,” she said. “I’ll get them.” It didn’t take long to locate the box of Christmas ornaments stored there.
Moments later, she set the box on the floor in front of the fireplace. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen these,” she said as together they pawed through the wrappings.
She hadn’t bothered decorating the year before, the worst Christmas of her life. Her friend Meg Lockwood had invited Sadie to dinner, but morning sickness had kept her trotting back and forth to the outhouse for most of the day. Never had she felt so scared or lonely in her life.
This year she was actually looking forward to the holiday, and that surprised her. It was because of Adam, and no other reason. Certainly, it had nothing to do with the captain.
Chewing on her bottom lip, she tried to decide where to hang the shiny ornament she’d pulled from its wrappings. Her gaze soon found its way to the captain’s back as he hung a wooden angel on the tree, muscles rippling beneath his shirt. Clamping her mouth shut, she took a deep breath and hung the ornament on a lower branch.
They reached into the box at the same time. The touch of his fingers sent warm tingles up her arm and she quickly pulled back. “Sorry,” she murmured, refusing to meet his gaze.
She blew out her breath and waited until he’d turned his back before reaching into the box for the tiny pair of mittens.
“I remember the Christmas my grandmother made these,” she said softly. “She tried to teach me how to knit, but I was all thumbs.”
Cole turned and regarded her with a thoughtful look. “Sounds like you miss her.”
“I do. After my parents died, my grandparents raised me. After Grammy died, Grandpappy drank himself to death.” She sighed. “Why do people do that? Drink themselves silly?”
Cole reached into the box for a toy soldier attached to a string. “I guess some people don’t know any other way to ease their pain.”
Her gaze met his. “Richard sure did like his firewater. More than once I had to drive into town and drag him out of some saloon.” She knew how much he hated the farm, especially at the end. Was that why he’d started drinking so much? “That’s not why he got shot, is it? Because he was drunk?”
“Your husband never drank on the job. It’s against company policy. Drunkenness, along with any rowdy behavior, is cause for immediate discharge.”
She drew in her breath. Knowing that Richard had died stone-cold sober didn’t make her feel any better. Dead was dead, no matter how it happened. Feeling suddenly self-conscious beneath Cole’s steady gaze, she turned to hide her reddening face.
“Sounds like you had a tough childhood,” he said.
She hung the mittens before answering. “Didn’t know there was any other kind.” She chanced a look in him. “What about you?”
He pulled a glass ball from the box and lifted it to hang. “My mother died in childbirth, so I never knew her. Pa remarried a couple of years later. He owned a general store.” His face darkened. “One night as he was closing up shop, he was held up and shot to death.”
“How awful for you,” she said quietly. “How old were you?”
“Twelve.” He rubbed his forehead and added, “The killer got away. But the Texas Rangers tracked him all the way to Indian Territory. That really impressed me, and I was sold on the idea of becoming a ranger myself.”
She moistened her lips. “Any regrets?”
He arched an eyebrow. “About being a ranger? None.” He named some of the outlaws he’d helped capture. It was an impressive list, and the pride in his voice reminded her of her father. Papa had helped catch a number of outlaws too. Whenever he spoke of his work, his eyes had shone much like the captain’s eyes shone now.
Her gaze dropped to her empty hands. “What about the man who killed my husband. Will you get him, too?”
“You can count on it,” he said, without a hint of doubt. “Sometimes it takes a while, but like I said, eventually we rangers always get our man. Or in this case, our men.”
She reached into the box and pulled out a tiny wooden sleigh. “Men?” she asked.
“The Carpenter brothers. They’re responsible for your husband’s death.”
Her mouth ran dry. “Did the Carpenters put that hole in you too?”
A muscle quivered at his jaw. “’Fraid so.”
She drew in her breath. “Did he…did he suffer?”
He shook his head. “Didn’t know what hit him.” After a moment, he added, “I’m sorry. Like I said, we’ll catch the men responsible.”
Fingering the sleigh, Sadie tried to take comfort in his promise, but it was no use. Her father and husband had made promises too, none of which were kept.
Not wanting to spoil the fun of decorating the tree, she pushed her dark thoughts aside and concentrated on the present. These past couple of weeks had been a dream come true. Cole had been a tremendous help around the farm.
Each night they’d sat in front of the fire with Adam between them. Sometimes Cole played her grandfather’s fiddle while she made up ridiculous
lyrics. Their songfests always ended in laughter. At other times, she’d read aloud from her grammar book, and she and Cole would try to make sense of the complicated rules. But whether working, playing, or just relaxing, the three of them had seemed like a family. A real honest-to-goodness family that she’d always wanted.
Now she was reminded of something she didn’t want to think about—Cole was a Texas Ranger, a temporary guest. A man on the move. She had no right thinking of him as family, or anything else for that matter.
“My father was a ranger,” she said as a way to remind herself what was at stake. “His name was Jack Carter, and he was killed in the line of duty. I was only ten at the time.”
His eyes filled with sympathy. “Sorry to hear that. It’s gotta be tough losing both a father and husband like that.”
“Tough don’t—doesn’t—begin to describe it.”
“We rangers don’t always make the best family men, but we do a lot of good. I hope knowing the good that your father and husband did brings you some peace.”
She hung the sleigh and busied herself untangling a string of beads. “I’ll be sure to tell that to Adam when he asks why the other children have fathers and he doesn’t.”
Cole lifted a tin star out of the box and attached it to the very top of the tree. While he tackled the high branches, Sadie concentrated on the lower ones. Sometimes his arm brushed against hers or they’d reach for an ornament at the same moment. Such occasions were met with quick glances and murmured apologies.
By the time all the ornaments had been hung, hardly a needle remained intact. That was the least of it; the tree tipped to the side as if looking for a place to land.
Cole stood next to her as they admired their work, and she basked in the warmth of the shared moment. It was the saddest, most wonderful tree Sadie had ever seen.
“I love it!” she said and giggled.
Cole laughed too. “I can hardly wait until Adam wakes up from his nap and sees it.”
Christmas in a Cowboy's Arms Page 28
