A Texas Christmas (27 page)
Authors: Jodi Thomas,Linda Broday,Phyliss Miranda
“Yes sir, I hear you. And I’ll bring your milk later.”
“Bring extra in case the storm gets us, if you’ve got it.”
The lad nodded. “Guess Miss Margaret over at the mercantile got sick, ’cause there ain’t nobody around today.”
“Heard that.” Rand pulled out a brand-spankin’-new double eagle from his pocket and tossed it to the lad. “Buy yourself something you’ve been wanting when they open. Maybe those boots you’ve been lookin’ at.”
Timmy grabbed his coat and pocketed the coin. “Thanks, Mr. Humphrey, but I gotta pass on the boots. It’s Christmas and I might’ve never been able to get Mama a present without you being so kindhearted.” He neared the door and suddenly turned back to Rand. Lowering his eyes, his voice broke, as he said, “I’m not sure she’ll make it to see another Christmas.”
Rand took a deep breath and shielded himself from caring. “Timmy, thank your mama for the chicken and dumplin’s she sent over and . . .” He took a second breath. “And Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas to you too, Mr. Humphrey, and don’t forget Jughead.” The lad shot out the door like Rand had kicked him out by the toe of his boots.
Now that Rand had all of the seasonal pleasantries out of the way, he could focus on his own priorities. After he got caught up on making a few household items that he’d promised to have ready for customers after the holiday, he figured on spending the rest of the holiday just the way he wanted it.
Alone with nothing but his animals and his memories.
His plan was simple. Work during the day with nobody to bother him. Take care of the horses. Eat what he wanted when he wanted and spend the evenings sitting by the fire, smoking his pipe and reading in the big room adjacent to the blacksmith’s shop.
Tonight would be the start of the smoking and the reading. But first, he had to find his ol’ tattered copy of Dickens’s
A Tale of Two Cities
, and he was pretty sure it was still hidden away in his mother’s Saratoga trunk upstairs. He had a hankering to see what kind of vengeance the remorseless Madame Defarge had been heaping on folks, but hadn’t had time to find the book.
A Tale of Two Cities
, and he was pretty sure it was still hidden away in his mother’s Saratoga trunk upstairs. He had a hankering to see what kind of vengeance the remorseless Madame Defarge had been heaping on folks, but hadn’t had time to find the book.
It took only a minute or two to locate the trunk and lift the lid, releasing the smell of stale air and cedar. The book lay beneath a quilt that had been pieced and stitching started but never got finished.
Over the last year, more than once the thought had occurred to him that he should donate the coverlet to the church’s women’s quilting group or whatever they called themselves, but he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. For some reason, he couldn’t stand the thought of someone else touching the piece of work.
At his age, he had little doubt that there’d never be a woman under his roof that he’d trust enough to finish it, so the quilt would stay buried in the trunk . . . like many of his memories.
Returning downstairs, he added logs to the fire before he settled in for the night in his comfortable chair near the hearth. He filled his favorite briar pipe and tamped the tobacco down. Taking a deep whiff, he enjoyed the pleasant, almost sweet scent. There was nothing better in life than good tobacco instead of the kind that smelled and tasted like yucca blended with cow chips and buffalo bones.
Even with a roaring fire, a chill hovered overhead. The temperature had noticeably dropped since he returned from supper, a sure sign that the winds had shifted to the north and would bring horrendous snows unless it skirted around Kasota Springs.
Heavy banging assaulted the door to the blacksmith’s shop.
Rushing to get it opened as quick as possible, Randall came face-to-face with Edwinna Dewey, who stood outside with a fairly heavy layer of snow clinging to her hat and across the shoulders of her black coat. She seemed extraordinarily excited, more than usual, if that were possible. Her headpiece sat precariously on top of her head and her eyes bugged out with animation.
Over her shoulder he could make out people scurrying around like fire ants on a mission. A terrible commotion was going on, but the heavy snow kept him from seeing exactly what was taking place.
“Come quickly, Mr. Humphrey, we need your help.” Edwinna steadied her hat with her gloved hands and rushed off, leaving Rand standing in the doorway wondering if this was her way of setting a trap for him, making certain that he couldn’t enjoy a peaceful holiday alone.
On the other hand, what could have happened that would require the attention of the town’s blacksmith?
Chapter 2
Rand threw on his coat and hat, not bothering with gloves, and hightailed it after Edwinna Dewey. The wind caused her umbrella to bobble along, proving little protection against the falling snow.
Across from the square, a crowd gathered near Dr. Mitchell’s office. Most, including the wildflower ladies, stood on the sidewalk, craning their necks to see into the office.
As they neared, thanks to his height, Rand could easily see that the room was filled to the brim with townfolks. He recognized many of the faces from the holiday bazaar at the Springs Hotel, so evidently something had happened involving that event.
Edwinna elbowed and fussed her way through the crowd.
Rand was far enough behind that he couldn’t hear her words clearly, but he was pretty sure many of them might not be suitable for ladies’ ears.
“I’ve got him right here.” Edwinna waved her parasol in Rand’s face, as though she’d just caught Old St. Nick up to mischief. “He can tell you that his brother—”
“Half brother,” Rand interjected.
“Half brother . . . was nowhere around, because he’s driving my niece and the twins here from Carroll Creek.” Again, her umbrella darted dangerously near his face. “Tell them, Mr. Humphrey. Tell them that my niece had nothing to do with stealing the money from the bazaar.”
“Nobody has accused anybody of anything,” warned Doc Mitchell.
Rand wasn’t sure exactly what had happened, but apparently money for the children’s home had been stolen. With the impetuous woman’s open parasol flying from one shoulder to the other like a weapon, he was just about ready to confess to stealing the money himself, in order to save his eyesight. One wrong move and she’d blind him for sure.
“Miz Dewey, I have no idea where your niece and her family are, and
you
told
me
that
you
hired my half brother”—Rand held his tongue and didn’t add
a no-good scoundrel of a man.
Rand continued—“to drive them here, but I can assure you I’ve seen none of them.”
you
told
me
that
you
hired my half brother”—Rand held his tongue and didn’t add
a no-good scoundrel of a man.
Rand continued—“to drive them here, but I can assure you I’ve seen none of them.”
“That can’t be true,” said Emma.
Dr. Mitchell attempted to hold down his wife, and patient, who kept trying to stand. “Now, Emma, stay calm. Gettin’ upset isn’t good for your blood pressure.” He tugged at her arm. “I’m sure Mr. Humphrey would know if a young woman and two children had arrived at his livery.”
“Well, I’m not so sure,” Emma shot back. “A man assaulted me in the alley and absconded with the bazaar money. He was tall and came up from behind me. I know it was Jim Crockett. I just know it.”
“Now, Emma. It could have been someone else. Did you see his face?” Doc Mitchell asked. “You know Boss Adler and some of his gang was hangin’ around the mercantile last night. Nothing good ever comes out of them when they come to town. Could it be them?”
“No! The man came up behind me,” she huffed. “But I know who it was. He smelled like tobacco and bay rum, and was tall, just like . . .”
Someone in the crowd yelled, “Sheriff Raines has two of ’um in the hoosegow, and he went after Boss Adler. They were so liquored up he could hardly stand the smell of ’um.”
Another male voice said, “All Raines is interested in is retiring, not capturing outlaws. Of course, except for some of the locals like the Thompson clan.”
Emma Mitchell reared up and muttered, “If he doesn’t get himself killed first . . .” A concerto of voices rippled through the crowd, drowning out her words, but Rand eventually heard her wail, “With all the money gone, there will be no Christmas for the children at the orphanage.”
“Darlin’, settle down.” Doc Mitchell placed his arm around his wife’s shoulder. “We’ll have Christmas for the young’uns one way or another.”
Emma Mitchell settled her head on her husband’s shoulder and accepted his handkerchief, dabbing at her tears. “And it’s snowing.”
Edwinna Dewey said to no particular person, “I knew I shouldn’t have hired a Humphrey.” She whirled in Rand’s direction. “I just know your brother—uh, half brother—let something happen to them and they’re in a cold snowy pasture.” She pulled her own hanky from her handbag and wiped away a tear then blew her nose, not so ladylike. “I know they’re freezing and hungry, and . . .” She jerked up her opened umbrella and wheeled it in Rand’s face. “And you’re going to go find them.”
“If I thought they were in danger, I’d be the first to be out there lookin’ for them, but Miz Dewey—”
The sound of horse hooves pounding the hard clay street beneath the snow cut off Rand’s words.
Tall and distinguished, the testy foreman of the Jacks Bluff Ranch, Teg Tegeler, dismounted. Without any pleasantries except for a tip of his hat to the ladies, he said, “Came to give y’all fair warning there’s a storm a brewin’. And it ain’t nothin’ to snub your nose at either. Some of our hands jest got back from movin’ cattle more south to try to avoid the worst of the storm, so wanted to warn you all.”
Mrs. Redmond piped up and asked, “Do you think the train with the new bell on it will make it in before the worst of it hits?”
“I reckon not, ma’am. Guessin’ from the way the railroad tracks cross over near the Sullivan Ranch, I suspect the train and the storm are on a collision course.” He secured his big dun stud to the hitching post. “Best thing you all can do now is plan to hunker down for a spell. If you don’t have extra supplies, better get ’um now, ’cause I think this might be the big one.”
Tegeler excused himself, pulled the brim of his hat low over his eyes, and headed in the direction of Slats and Fats Saloon, most likely to get himself some warm liquid reinforcement before he took care of whatever business brought him to town so late in the day. And Rand was bettin’ that the crusty cowboy’s beeswax might well be Bonnie Lynn, the saucy redhead maid over at the Springs Hotel.
Suddenly, the loss of the money for the orphanage was overshadowed by the prediction of a winter storm; except, of course, to Mrs. Mitchell, who complained to her husband that she might have to take to her bed until Christmas Eve to get over her feeling poorly.
Edwinna Dewey got drawn into a conversation with the wildflower women.
With all the commotion, and a little luck, Rand could escape and get back to his warm chair, light his pipe, and begin to find out what Madame Defarge was up to before the coals in the hearth died out.
If he were playing poker he would have drawn the worst hand in the deck, because out of the corner of his eye he saw Edwinna Dewey hoofin’it his way. Even through the veil of light snow, he saw by the look on her face that she was about to have a conniption fit, and he had a notion he was fixin’to be the recipient of her poor humor.
“Oh, Mr. Humphrey.” Her shrill voice caught on the wind and chased him down. “Oh, Mr. Humphrey, I’m not finished talking to you.”
But I am with you!
Rand rubbed away light snow on his mustache with the back of his very cold hand.
Rand rubbed away light snow on his mustache with the back of his very cold hand.
“You’ve got to go find my niece—” Edwinna demanded.
Although Rand’s patience was a bit frayed, he tried to think how he’d feel if he were in her shoes. The thought made him shudder. There were a lot of places he’d like to be, but in her shoes wasn’t one of them. “I can assure you, ma’am, Jim Crockett would have never left Carroll Creek if he suspected in the least there was bad weather. He’d never put the welfare of a woman, especially with children, in jeopardy.”
“If you ask me, he’s nothing but a scallywag.”
“And I didn’t ask you, ma’am.” His blood boiled. After all, only kin was allowed to call out another family member—whether the accusations were true or not.
As though she hadn’t heard him, she continued on her rant. “But you’ll promise that you’ll carry my niece and the twins to me the moment they arrive in town?”
“Yes ma’am, I promise.” And he was being absolutely honest in making the promise, because if Miz Dewey’s niece was anything like her aunt, he didn’t want to spend a second more than was necessary with the woman. A cold chill ran down his spine.
The woman could be even worse!
Chapter 3
Fluffy snow churned from the heavens and blew against anything in its way, creating snowdrifts along the road leading into Kasota Springs.
In the distance, Sarah Callahan saw the soft flickering of lamplight from the window of the blacksmith shop.
Tucking three-year-old Damon to her side, she took a deep breath, then pulled Addie Claire closer, attempting to shield the twins from the snow freezing on their coats and hats.
“We’re nearly there. You’re safe,” she reassured the children as they hurried through the ankle-deep snow toward the light.
She banged heavily on the door until a big, burly man opened it, allowing the heat from the forge to whisk out the door as though it were chasing away the snowflakes.
Aunt Edwinna had described the blacksmith as an old codger, as friendly as a coyote on a moonless night, but a man who was honest. At the moment, Sarah agreed with the old codger description, but her aunt had failed to say that he also looked like a big brown grizzly bear forced out of hibernation early.
“Mr. Humphrey?” As she spoke, opaque vapors swirled from her breath. Instinctively, she gathered the little tykes closer, but she wasn’t sure if it was to protect them from the howling wind or the giant of a man standing in the threshold.
“Yes, and you are?” he asked with an edge in his voice, leaving little doubt he wasn’t all that keen on receiving visitors so late in the evening.
“Sarah Callahan.” A gust of wind assaulted her, and the twins grabbed tightly to her legs, unsteadying her even more.
The man grabbed her by the arm and almost pulled her and the children clinging to her coattail inside. “Miz Dewey’s niece?”
She nodded. “And this is Damon and Addie Claire.” Sarah gently pulled back their hats so he could see their faces.
He tentatively smiled at the children before returning to the grumpy expression that she suspected life had etched on his face.
“I apologize, ma’am, for draggin’ you in here like that, but I thought you were fixin’to land up in a snowbank.”
The newfound warmth in his voice was in contradiction with his appearance. He offered his hand, and she accepted his welcome. Even through her gloves, she could feel the roughness in his grip, yet it gave her a sense of protection.
But it was his eyes that took her breath away. Deep, dark chocolate, and intense like he could see all the way to her soul.
She had to force herself away from her thoughts. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Humphrey, and I apologize for coming unannounced.”
“We can chat later. You all need to get out of the weather.” He helped her remove her coat and hung it by the door. “Get those wet clothes off the children. Just drop them by the door, it won’t hurt anything. There’s a fire in the great room on the other side of the shop. I’ll go find some blankets.” He looked her straight in the eye and said in a commanding voice, “And get their wet socks off, too.”
He lumbered away, leaving her to do as he’d instructed.
The scent of fire and smoke hung heavy in the air, and a layer of soot settled over every inch of the blacksmith’s shop.
Depositing the soaking wet items by the door, she hurried the twins in the direction he had gone. To her surprise the living area was rather large, warm and inviting. Except for the size and sharing the building, it was in total contrast with the blacksmith’s shop.
“I’m sorry these are so rough, but they are the first I found.” Mr. Humphrey handed her three blankets and some socks. “I think gettin’ you all warmed up right now is more important.”
Sarah wrapped the freezing children in the heavy covering and huddled with them in front of the fire on a small rug, which she suspected he had hurriedly thrown on the floor.
“Mr. Humphrey—”
“Rand.” His deep baritone voice was edged with years of control. “Short for Randall.”
“And I’m Sarah.” She stood. Tilting back her head, she boldly met his gaze. “Short for . . . uh, well, Sarah.”
They exchanged cordial smiles.
“How about something to drink? Milk for them and some . . .” His voice trailed off, as though he wasn’t sure what to offer her, but to her surprise, he continued, “Hot tea? If there’s still some left in the canister.”
“That would be lovely. May I help you, Mr. Hump . . . Rand?”
Before he could respond, little Addie Claire looked up. “May I have warm milkth, please, Mr. Humprand?”
Sarah took in a sharp breath, shocked that the little girl had mispronounced his name so horribly. She softly corrected, “Mr. Humphrey.”
“That’s what I meant, Mummy.” Addie Claire lay back down and curled up facing the fire. “Thank you, Mr. Grumpy.”
Sarah looked up at Rand Humphrey expecting frustration to be etched on the big man’s face, but to her surprise a tiny smile hugged the corner of his mouth, softening his features. “She has problems sometimes pronouncing some of her sounds,” Sarah offered.
“And I have a problem being a tad grumpy and probably scary to a little girl.” With a glimmer in his eye he added, “Even to big ones.”
“You don’t scare me, Mr. Humphrey.” Sarah squatted down and put the oversized wool socks on each of the children, wishing inwardly she was as confident as she prayed her voice portrayed.
“Warm milk for the little ones and hot tea for the lady, comin’ right up,” Rand said before exiting the great room, undoubtedly headed for the kitchen. Over his shoulder he continued, “Then I must go find your aunt and let her know you all have arrived safely.”
Sarah’s heart sank, along with her spirits.
From the moment she saw the first snowflake, somewhere down deep inside she had found herself thinking that the snow surely had been a gift from the heavens and maybe, just maybe, she and the children would get snowed in at a warm, cheerful place—anywhere except at Aunt Edwinna’s ranch.
Guilt overcame her for thinking such thoughts. The only reason Sarah had agreed to come to Kasota Springs for the holiday was because of the picture her aunt had painted of what a grand time the children would have going to all of the Christmas festivities—watching the horse races, the boxed supper—and she had even tempted Sarah by volunteering to look after the twins while she went to the holiday dance.
Aunt Edwinna had described a number of available men, the foreman of the Jacks Bluff Ranch, another rancher named Sullivan, and had warned her about two families to steer clear of, one named Thompson and the other Dolton. And she’d specifically cautioned her about the blacksmith, Randall Humphrey, leaving the impression that, although single, he was much too cranky for any woman to want to consort with.
Sarah reminded herself that she was in Kasota Springs for the holidays, not to consort with a man, whether he was cantankerous or not.
But now, with a blizzard dancing on a razor’s edge, if Rand located Aunt Edwinna, Sarah and the twins would be stuck out on the ranch with the overbearing and oh-so-nosy sister of her mother.
Thoughts of getting snowbound with the big, testy blacksmith were more appealing than being stranded with her spinster aunt. Sarah hated to pray for more snow, but found herself closing her eyes and doing just that.
The oddest feeling washed over Sarah. Why did she feel so comfortable in her surroundings and not in the least threatened by a man she’d only met minutes before? A man who had a reputation for being as cantankerous as a lead steer on a trail drive?
By the time she had pulled on a pair of warm, woolen socks, the feeling in her toes had returned. She checked on the children, who now cuddled together in front of the hearth, sleeping soundly. Their cheeks had returned to a healthy shade of rose instead of the blustery cherry red caused by the horrific winds and cold.
Sarah walked into the kitchen just in time to see Rand attempt to pick up a pot of boiling water with a tea towel. Surely a man who dealt with red-hot coals all day long would make sure he had plenty of padding before grabbing a hot piece of metal . . . wouldn’t he?
“Sonofabitch!” Rand dropped the teakettle on top of the stove with a heavy clang and jerked away the rag. Even from a distance, Sarah saw an enormous area of reddened flesh on his right hand.
“Damn it—” Rand glanced up, and seeing her, he cut his words short. He looked a little like he’d gotten caught with his hand in the cookie jar, and before she could respond, he simply said, “Sorry, ma’am. I’m not accustomed to anybody being within earshot.”
“They certainly aren’t words I’m unfamiliar with, but—”
“But not around the children, right?”
Since he obviously saw the error in his ways, she just nodded gingerly. “Let me help you. Addie Claire and Damon are asleep, so no need for the milk, but I’d still enjoy some tea, if you don’t mind. May I fix some for you, too?”
Rand raised his brows as if she’d asked him if he wanted a cup of arsenic, then said, “I drink coffee.”
“You need that burn tended to.” Boldly she stepped his way and seized his hand, and to her surprise he didn’t jerk it away. “Do you have some salve?” She hesitated a second, then added, “Of course you do, you deal with fire all day long.”
“And rarely get distracted enough to burn myself.” He pulled his hand away and doused cold water over it. “I’ve had worse sunburns. I’ll doctor it later.”
“I see you’ve already put out cups and the tea, so while you go tend to that burn, I’ll finish the tea and coffee.”
A frown crossed his face. Although she’d just met him, she had little doubt this was a show of his displeasure with being bossed around in his own home. She had little doubt he wasn’t a man who easily took instructions from anyone, man or woman.
Rand opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, rapid-fire knocking came from the door to the blacksmith’s shop. Whoever was there wanted to make sure they were heard, and Sarah could bet the ranch, if she had one, that it wasn’t a traveler needing the services of a blacksmith.
From the obvious frustration on Rand’s face, he wasn’t all that happy about another intrusion in his life.
Before Sarah could fill the china teapot that Rand had put out for water, she heard a piercing female voice snarl, “I guess you forgot that you were to let me know the
moment
my niece and the twins arrived, Mr. Humphrey.”
moment
my niece and the twins arrived, Mr. Humphrey.”
Stepping out of the kitchen, Sarah walked into the shop and stopped in her tracks. The person covered in snow who pushed her way through the doorway of the shop reminded Sarah of a snowman who had escaped a snowdrift and come lookin’ for trouble.
Sarah glanced from the woman to Rand and back.
Without acknowledging Sarah’s presence, Edwinna Dewey wheeled her umbrella in Rand Humphrey’s direction and said, “You did, didn’t you.”
“No, ma’am, I didn’t forget anything.” He looked squarely in her face, and his eyes narrowed suspiciously. “And I suspect this is a night I’m apt not to forget for a long time.”
Other books
Cold Harbour by Jack-Higgins
Leave No Stone Unturned (A Lexie Starr Mystery, Book 1) by Jeanne Glidewell
The Clone Sedition by Steven L. Kent
Spider on My Tongue by Wright, T.M.
Red Country by Kelso, Sylvia
Ringworld by Larry Niven
Dragonfly in Amber by Diana Gabaldon
The Earl's Daughter by Lyons, Cassie
The Island of Dr. Libris by Chris Grabenstein
Smoke and Mirrors by Neil Gaiman
