Where was Ox? Why had he ridden out of town at the crack of dawn?
She returned to the barn window and peered through the frosted pane. The smell of snow was in the air and the leaden sky held the threat of a major storm.
Since when did she pine over a man?
Her boots made a satisfying clomping sound as she marched back to the workbench.
Lack of sleep had muddled her brain.
Ox was to blame. The repeated memory of his strong arms wrapped around her had made for hours of tossing and turning.
The train whistle drew her back to the window. Fat flakes of snow drifted downward, then swirled upward from the turbulence of the chugging train.
She raced out into the biting cold and searched her pockets for her mittens. Reindeer droppings, the thick green wool mittens were sitting pretty on the workbench.
The passenger-car door slid open to reveal Carl. “No time to talk today, Miss Josephine.” His words encased in white puffs of breath, he tossed the mailbag onto the snow-covered ground, and the train lurched forward. “I’d appreciate your help with the mail. We are trying to outrun the storm.”
The cold stung her nostrils as she scooped up the bag. “Be careful!”
“You too. She’s a doozy.” Carl tipped his cap, then disappeared into the safe confines of the train.
The mailbag gripped to her chest, she walked against the howling gale. She doubted Ned Baker would appreciate her efforts to deliver the mail to the trading post, but Carl had entrusted the mailbag to her and she wouldn’t fail him.
At the thudding of horse hooves and a jumble of male voices, she turned back.
Snow clung to Ox’s and his brother’s broad cowboy hats and shoulders. His horse hauled the work sleigh, loaded down with an enormous fresh-cut fir tree.
Ox couldn’t have looked prouder as the sleigh glided to a stop at the stable doors. “Are you accepting early Christmas presents?”
Her heart nearly bursting out of her chest, she rushed to the sleigh, then circled the tree, examining it from all angles. Ox joined her and she gave him a quick hug. “I love it.”
He rocked on his heels in pleased fashion. “Garrett thinks I overdid it.”
The other man looked up from under his bangs as he and his brothers climbed off their horses. “The tree will take up half your parlor.”
Sheriff Boone slung his arm over Ox’s shoulder. “We couldn’t talk the big guy into choosing a smaller one.”
“His Crow name is Stubborn Waters Under Still Creek,” White Wolf teased.
Garrett hid his smile behind his hat. “Should we tell Miss Jo about the time you were out-stubborned by that grizzly?”
“This is what I get for asking my pain-in-the-neck brothers to help,” Ox said, but he was grinning. “If it’s too large, I can get you another one.”
She itched to break out her ornament collection. “Oh no, we will make it fit.”
“Miss Jo will freeze to death if we don’t make a decision soon,” Sheriff Boone said, lifting the collar of his black duster.
She patted the mailbag. “I need to deliver the mail to Ned at the Last Chance.”
“How about I take that off your hands?” Boone volunteered. “It’s on my way home.”
Fingers bright red from the cold, she relinquished the leather bag. “Bless you.”
Ox peeled off his gloves, and tenderly but quickly fitted them onto her hands. “What are you doing outside without your mittens?”
The gloves radiated his warmth. It was snowing harder. “I forgot them in my rush to meet Carl and the train. And it’s rude of me to keep you standing outside. Park the sleigh in the barn, and we can worry later about bringing the tree inside. And why did you even head out to the woods with a storm coming?”
Garrett gave Ox a friendly thump on the back. “We thought he was crazy too.”
“But Ox insisted.” Sheriff Boone’s mouth quirked.
Amusement danced in White Wolf’s eyes. “What kind of brothers would we be if we allowed him to go out into a blizzard alone?”
“Blizzard?” Ox wore an incredulous look. “It just started snowing.”
Shame on her for putting others in peril by making a big fuss over the tree. “You could have waited. Really.”
“And not any old tree would do.” Garrett nudged Ox with an elbow. “Ox was like a hound on the trail of a rabbit.”
White Wolf wedged his way between the horses tied to the hitching post and freed the reins. “We walked so far I thought we’d end up in Colorado.”
“Colt is gonna giggle up a storm when he hears how high we jumped when we flushed out them partridge,” Sheriff Boone said, drawing his horse toward the shelter of the stable.
She wished Jasper was still alive to meet the Haven brothers. He would have been in awe at first, then charmed as she by these rough and tough cowboys with hearts as big as the West.
Ox ignored the brotherly ribbing. “Storms can last for days in these parts and the snow can bury houses. I wanted you to have the perfect tree for your first Christmas in your new home.”
Her heart turned as warm and gooey as a square of chocolate heating in a saucepan. “How sweet of you.”
The horse hauling the sleigh tossed his head, as if impatient to follow the other horses.
Ox tipped his white hat. “Give my best to your folks.”
She hurried to the front door and reached for the knob. Ox’s oversized glove dropped into the snow. She rescued it.
A tremble went through her that had nothing to do with the snow and cold. She could easily lose her heart to this kind, thoughtful man. If she wasn’t careful.
Except caution had never been her strength.
Fifteen
After the Hopkins family waited two days for the tree to stop dripping snow, the smell of evergreen now filled the parlor. Papa sat in his chair cocooned in blankets, topped by a purring Mr. Pip. The smell of peppermint tea drifted in from the kitchen, where Mutter was at work setting the silver serving tray with the holly-patterned china.
Jo found the perfect spot for a hand-painted glass Christmas ornament—one of the treasured items her great-grandmutter had packed when immigrating from Frankfurt to Cincinnati.
Wooden crates littered the front parlor. Ox freed an ornament from the packing straw and examined the dark green oblong ornament. “A pickle?”
“Jasper’s favorite,” Papa said fondly.
Jo glanced at her brother’s picture. Memories of past Christmas mornings flooded back. The race to search the tree for the pickle ornament. The first one to spot the pickle received an extra present. All the families in her neighborhood did the same. “You’ve never heard of the Christmas Pickle tradition?”
Ox handed off the ornament as if it was in danger of exploding. “That’s a new one on me.”
“I know what I’m getting you for Christmas.”
A long moment passed. “You don’t need to go out of your way.”
She laughed until she cried. “I should. Just for the fun of hearing your brothers rib you.”
“Thanks.” He grinned. “They don’t need more ammunition.”
Why did it feel as if she’d known Ox forever instead of less than two weeks? “I’ll cross the pickle ornament off the list. But what should I get you instead? Never mind, I want it to be a surprise.”
“No pets, please.” He searched through the boxes and came out with the angel tree-topper. “A horse and a dog are enough for one month.”
She clapped. “You’re keeping Nick.”
“I am not naming him Saint Nicholas.”
“Why not?”
“Who decided we were exchanging gifts?”
“You are going to take me caroling.” She reached for the angel. “That’s gift enough.”
He lifted the tree-topper over his head. “No pickles or pets.”
“Cross my heart.” She failed to keep a straight face.
“Swear again.” He placed the angel on her head like a ha
t. “Remember, angels don’t lie.”
Mutter carried the tea tray to the table in front of the couch. “Laughter in a house makes for a happy home.”
Jo bent over and remembered just in time to catch the angel. “This is the best tree decorating day since Jasper’s last one.”
“Our boy would be pleased with us,” Papa said. “Come and sit, drink some tea, and admire the tree from here.”
“Jasper loved Christmas and we promised to make his joys ours,” she explained, as Ox sat down next to her.
“Sugarplum, Mutter and Mr. Pip and I discussed it, and—”
“His Royal Highness has a bowl of cream waiting in the kitchen.” Mutter shooed the cat off Papa’s lap, then nudged Jo closer to Ox as she took a seat. “Papa and I hope Ox will agree to join us for Christmas dinner.”
Her normally over-protective parents were encouraging the match? She dared a look at Ox. “You probably already have plans.”
“Nothing that I can’t change.” A note of hesitation sounded in his voice. “But only if Sugar Cookie is welcome.”
Considerate to the core, he was offering her an escape. “Mr. Pip may complain, but I would love to have you and Sugar as guests.”
“He answers only to Cookie.” Warmth flecked his hazel eyes. “I’ve never seen a feistier puppy.”
She hugged her joy tight. She wished Christmas lasted forever.
The season of miracles. The season of possibilities. The season of love.
∞∞∞
After the short tea break, Jo and Ox finished trimming the tree. Papa, who was getting stronger, insisted on helping Mutter by drying the dishes. The sound of their companionable conversation made her heart sing. The happy marriage was a blessing and an example of what she’d want if she ever married. Which was out of the question.
“Your humming is prettier than birdsong,” Ox said, returning from the attic with yet another crate.
“Was I humming again?” She flapped her hand. But she took secret pleasure at the compliment.
He set the crate on the rug in front of the tree and pried the lid free. “This is the last of them, unless you have a roomful of decorations you haven’t warned me about.”
“I was completely honest, cross my heart.” She brushed aside the packing straw and revealed the glazed porcelain figure of baby Jesus in a manger.
But Jo hadn’t been honest about the secret she was keeping. She hung her head in shame. Before things went any further, Ox deserved to know the truth.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” Ox asked gently.
It required all her inner fortitude to meet his concerned gaze. “I didn’t intend to come to care for you.”
“If you give it some time, you might not view it as such a bad thing.” A giant man expressing vulnerability was powerfully moving.
“That’s not what I meant.” She was messing up the confession. “If you hold my hands it might help steady me.”
“I won’t push for more until you are ready.” His large warm hands cradled hers. “We have all the time in the world.”
Oh, how she wished that were true. She inhaled a deep breath. “We don’t. I don’t. The doctors say because we were twins, there is a possibility that my strength will fail me like it did Jasper.”
He squeezed her fingers. “Whew, I’m glad to have that in the open.”
“You know? You knew?”
“Your father was worried you would take on too much after his accident.” He shrugged but wore a guilty look.
Her parents’ vigilance about her health was to be expected. She’d speak to them later. “I think it’s only fair you understand my situation, before…” Her face burned as hot as the logs in the fireplace. How was she supposed to say what needed to be said without making it sound like a confession of love or a marriage proposal?
“Before what?” Ox whispered.
“I am probably worried for nothing. I wrote to my family doctor and he assured me the numbness in my hands could well have been caused by the stress of the move to Aurora. And I feel perfectly strong now.” She gripped his hands harder to prove her point. “But in the future…”
“Lots could happen in the future.” His thumbs caressed hers. “I could break my back getting thrown from a horse or get bitten by a rattler or come down with a deadly pneumonia.”
“But this is different.”
“How? Your father left his factory job for his health and look how that turned out.”
“I fear becoming a burden.” The confession was bitter on her tongue. “A lame wife is the last thing a ranch man needs.”
“Do you know my fear? Living a life without love and friendship.”
“You have your family.”
“Before you came into my life, I thought that was enough,” he said.
“Your sad eyes are breaking my heart.”
“I know how you feel.” His brief smile faded. “Ma Haven used to say tomorrow will take care of itself. For today, how about if I promise not to push you too fast? And you promise not to push me away?”
“That sounds lovely.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She leaned her head on his wide chest and heard his heart pounding as wildly as hers. “I wish every day of the year was Christmas.”
His warm mouth grazed her hair. “Me too.”
She pulled back. “You do?”
“If it was always Christmas, we wouldn’t have to take down all the decorations and haul them back to the attic.”
Laughter bubbled up. We he’d said. She liked the sound of that. “True. And you’d grow tired of me always humming carols.”
“You would have to listen to me sing. That would be my revenge.”
“I can’t wait for the caroling party.” She hummed a merry tune.
His smile was beautiful. “Maybe I should stick to humming.”
How was she supposed to resist this? Resist him?
Sixteen
Ox’s deep rumbling voice wasn’t suited for carol singing. Jo, Maggie, and Colt could carry a tune just fine, but Boone, Garrett, and Brigetta would be booted from any half-respectable church choir. Luckily for them the town folks coming and going from Bailey’s Emporium had lower standards.
Or maybe they were so stunned at Sheriff Boone’s participation they forgot to boo.
Finishing up a lively and loud version of “We Wish You a Merry Christmas,” the family headed for Johnson’s Boarding House.
Colt raced ahead. Boone’s faithful dog Jack followed, keeping watch over the boisterous tyke. Boone whispered in Maggie’s ear, and she laughed at what he was saying. Little Charity was sound asleep in her daddy’s arms. Bri slipped on an icy patch. Garrett caught her before any harm came and wrapped a protective arm around her waist.
Garrett would be a daddy soon. Ox was surprised to find he was a mite jealous. Garrett had moved well beyond the days of them toughing it out in a one-room cabin. Ox had convinced himself he was suited to the quiet life of a bachelor rancher.
Jo’s arm was looped through his. With her winter-kissed cheeks and curls framing her face, she had never looked prettier or happier.
Ox had dined with Jo and her parents every night this last week. True to his promise, he didn’t press about the past or future. And she brightened his days with her enthusiasm for wrapping presents and fashioning small paper baskets that would be filled with nuts and raisins and hung on the tree come Christmas Eve. She and her parents’ faces would shine with joy, or maybe tears, as Jo read the Christmas postcards from their Ohio friends and family.
“Jasper loved caroling,” Jo said on a sigh.
“Boone and Garrett would never admit it, but they are enjoying the evening.”
“And here I thought they were being sustained by the promise of hot cocoa, tea, and warm apple strudel.” The wind ruffled the white fur trimming her red hood. “I’m sorry White Wolf had other business. I was so looking forward to introducing all of your family to Mutter and Papa.”
“Wo
lf never stays anywhere long. Years of rude, unkind, or cruel receptions make a body wary.”
Her brow furrowed. “I wish people weren’t so hateful.”
“Amen to that.”
“If he returns to check on Nick, you must tell him I insist he share a meal with us.”
“Nick?” He chuckled. “You are persistent, I’ll give you that.”
Reaching the steps of the boarding house, they formed a semi-circle, and Jo led them in singing “Away in a Manger.” She smiled at him and winked as if to say, we’re singing your song.
His mother leaving him in an oxen manger made for a good story, but it might have happened to someone else for all it touched him.
He was a Haven and a ranch owner, and he hoped to soon be the husband of Josephine Hopkins.
Would the lonely life of a ranch wife suit Jo, who was a city girl at heart?
What if she ended up in a wheelchair?
He wanted to marry her no matter what, but the possibility couldn’t be ignored.
Garrett and Brigetta lived on their ranch in the summers and moved to the living quarters over the bakery in the winters. And Boone had taken to the life of a small-town sheriff. Ox hadn’t ever considered not being a rancher. But he was now.
Mr. Hopkins could use a full-time assistant around the livery stable. Working with horses instead of cattle would suit Ox just fine. Jo would be able to remain close to her parents.
The third chorus ended, and Maggie touched her son’s shoulder. A cherubic cowboy, Colt stepped forward, puffed his little chest, and sang the solo he’d practiced, “O Little Town of Bethlehem,” to the delight of the boarding house residents who’d braved the cold to watch from the porch.
Ox was distracted by Jo rubbing her mittened hands together. “Do you need to step inside to warm up?” he whispered in her ear.
She gave a slight shake of her head, buried her hands in her coat pockets, and rocked faster on her heels.
Merry Wild West Christmas Page 6
