An Outlaw's Christmas (16 page)

“They
won’t,
” she said. “Doc Howard would have warned us, if that were the case. He’d have said—”

“Doc Howard, for all his versatility, is a dentist, not a medical practitioner,” Sawyer reminded her, still moving his limb. “We’ve got a couple of doctors in the McKettrick clan, and any one of them would tell me to start using this arm a little every day.”

Piper started to protest, and then stopped herself. Reasoning with a man was one thing, and nagging him was another. Besides, she recognized a lost cause when she saw one.

“These McKettricks seem to be an opinionated bunch,” she observed, ladling hot water from a kettle on the stove into a basin so she could wash up before she put on her clothes.

Sawyer’s grin flashed. “You’ll fit right in,” he said.

CHAPTER 10

Afternoon, Christmas Eve

T
here were so many people in the Blue River
schoolhouse, Piper thought happily, that even one more wouldn’t fit.

And yet, somehow, there was a place for all the latecomers,
with their smiles and words of greeting, their homemade fruitcakes and fruit
pies.

The evening before, Clay had brought a fresh Christmas tree in
from the ranch, deeming the first one a pitiful sight, past its prime, and Piper
and Sawyer had spent a festive hour transferring the ornaments from the old to
the new.

Now, Ginny-Sue’s eyes widened as Clay lifted her up to touch
the feathered wings of the angel that had magically appeared on top of the tree
sometime during the night. “Where did she come from?” the child wondered, in an
awed whisper. “She wasn’t on the
other
tree.”

“I guess it’s a miracle,” Clay told the child, his gaze on Dara
Rose, who stood nearby, glowing as she showed off the new baby to one and all.
The special angel was their gift to the children of Blue River. “There are a lot
of those going around these days, it seems to me.”

Ginny-Sue, still weak but mostly recovered, had returned to
school only the day before, a little subdued but eager to be a part of things.
Once Clay set her on her feet, she hurried off with Edrina, Harriet and Madeline
to get ready for the program, and Piper, standing next to Dara Rose, smiled and
offered a quick, silent prayer of gratitude.

There was so very much to be thankful for.

Indeed, this
was
a season of
miracles, just as Clay had said.

Sawyer, neatly dressed in garments from his travel trunk and
temporarily without his sling, caught Piper’s eye and winked.

She drew a deep breath and went up to the place where her desk
normally stood—it had been pushed back against the wall so the raised floor
could be used as a sort of stage—clapping her hands smartly to get everyone’s
attention.

The cheerful talk ceased, but in a scattered, here-and-there
way, and every upturned face was friendly—except, of course, for Eloise
Howard’s.

Piper gave the other woman a warm smile, secretly feeling sorry
for her, and addressed the group in general. “The children have worked very hard
to prepare for today’s program,” she said, in a voice trained to carry to every
corner of the room without screeching. “We all hope you’ll enjoy it.”

Bess Turner, standing in a corner with a cluster of her “girls”
from the Bitter Gulch Saloon, faded flowers clad in fuss and feathers, beamed
with pride as Ginny-Sue took her place and began to recite the second chapter of
Luke. Her performance was flawless, delivered in a bell-like voice, and
afterward, no one stinted on applause.

Even Eloise clapped, after a fashion, soundlessly touching the
gloved fingers of her right hand to the palm of her left, still flushed with the
singular pleasure of informing Piper, twenty minutes before, that her teaching
services would no longer be required after the school term ended in early
June.

Piper hadn’t minded, given that she and Sawyer had already made
plans to make their home on the Triple M, up in Arizona, starting the journey
north as soon as school was out and the new and more permanent town marshal had
arrived, but she’d pretended to feel a
little
bit
bad, for Eloise’s sake. Heaven knew the poor woman was hard up for things to
celebrate, which was a sad thing in and of itself, since she had a good husband,
a lovely child and a comparatively easy life, far more than many other people
could even have hoped for.

Bess Turner, for example, now hugging and congratulating her
proud daughter, might have been grateful for the kind of respectability and love
Eloise evidently took for granted—as less than her due.

With a sigh, Piper put the whole matter out of her mind. There
was no changing other people; one had to accept them as they were and proceed as
best one could, making allowances wherever possible.

The boys took the stage next, putting on a little skit of their
own composition, in which shepherds and Roman soldiers speculated about the
unusually bright star in the sky over Bethlehem. The soldiers had swords
fashioned from kindling and the shepherds had staffs and feed-sack headdresses
and, though brief, the play met with critical acclaim and much cheering.

Edrina played a lively tune on her ukulele next, with Harriet
turning the pages of her sheet music for her, importantly competent
throughout.

Recitations followed, mostly poetry, and when the last of those
had mercifully ended, all the students assembled to sing “Silent Night,” as
rehearsed over many, many days. Piper was touched when, one by one, voice by
voice, some awkward, some remarkably sweet, the audience joined in.

It was time then for the presents—the owner of the mercantile
had, as usual, brought along the promised oranges and peppermint sticks.

The children were delirious with excitement, especially
Ginny-Sue, who had confided to Piper earlier, in a brief moment of privacy, that
she had a Christmas tree at home, too. There were parcels tucked into the
branches, and “the ladies” had lent all sorts of baubles and ribbons and even
silk garters for decorations.

Piper had been delighted by the image and kissed Ginny-Sue on
top of the head, telling her, “You’ll have a happy Christmas for sure.”

And Ginny-Sue had nodded vigorously, eyes shining with joy.

Now, with the oranges and peppermint sticks dispersed, the
adults chatted and indulged in pie and cake and all manner of country
delicacies, each family, even the poorest ones, having contributed
something.

Bess made her way to Piper’s side and tugged at the sleeve of
her new blue dress, a ready-made from the mercantile. She’d splurged on it, now
that she wasn’t saving her money to go back to Maine, along with small gifts for
Sawyer, Dara Rose and Clay, and, of course, the children.

“We’ll be going now,” Bess said quietly. “I just wanted to say
thank you for everything you did, you and your man, and to wish you a happy
Christmas.”

Piper’s eyes burned, and she smiled, her response delayed by a
few moments because she was suddenly choked up. “You’re welcome,” she said, at
last. “And a happy Christmas to you, as well.”

“It’s the best one ever,” Bess confirmed, with a fond glance at
her daughter.

And then she and her bevy of twittering birds left the
schoolhouse, surrounding little Ginny-Sue, in her warm coat, hat, boots and
mittens, like a royal guard escorting a princess home to the palace.

Piper watched them go from the front window, knowing she would
treasure the recollection forever after, while the party went on behind her.
They were a
family,
those fancy women and that sweet
child and blustery Cleopatra, as loving and tightly knit as any other. They’d
come to the schoolhouse, knowing there would be some who looked askance,
resolved to watch Ginny-Sue make her recitation and celebrate with her
classmates, and they’d even put up a Christmas tree, festooning the branches
with what they had, rather than tinsel and colored glass.

If that wasn’t love, what was?

Sawyer stepped up beside her. “What are you thinking right now,
Mrs. McKettrick?” he asked quietly.

She loved it when he called her that. “That Christmas comes in
many forms,” she replied, leaning against him a little, and delighting in the
strength of his arm as it encircled her waist. Then she turned her head, looked
up into his handsome face. “Do you miss your family? Because it’s Christmas, I
mean?”

“
You’re
my family,” he said,
smiling into her eyes.

She let her head rest against his shoulder for a long moment.
“I love you,” she said.

“And I love you,” he replied throatily, holding her a little
tighter. Then, in a mischievous whisper, he added, “Let’s hurry this party along
a little. The sooner it’s over, the sooner we’ll be alone.”

Piper smiled. “We’re going to the ranch with Dara Rose and Clay
and the children, remember? We won’t really be alone until after Christmas, when
we move into the marshal’s house.”

Sawyer grinned and gave her a surreptitious pinch on a part of
her anatomy he particularly favored. “Clay and Dara Rose have a big house,” he
reminded her, “and I made sure we got a room well away from everybody
else’s.”

She flushed. “You’re a scoundrel,” she accused, though she was
pleased at the prospect.

“And you wouldn’t have me any other way,” he answered.

She laughed in agreement.

With that, they rejoined the festivities.

* * *

T
HE
RIDE
TO
the ranch in Clay’s
largest hay-wagon was long and cold, and Piper, bundled up in quilts and
blankets in back, with Dara Rose holding the well-wrapped baby, Edrina and
Harriet all sitting with her in a bed of fragrant straw, wouldn’t have changed a
thing about the experience.

It was already perfect, just as it was.

Clay and Sawyer sat up front, Clay at the reins of a four-horse
team, and as they traveled, the stars started popping out in the blue-black sky,
to the delighted fascination of the two little girls. Edrina and Harriet’s
cheeks glowed, and their eyes danced with happiness and anticipation.

The trail was rough and rutted, the wagon jostled along, and
Piper was lulled into a brief revelry by the steady clomp-clomp-clomp of the
horses’ hooves.

Conversation, it seemed, would be too much effort, at least for
the women—the men were discussing something, up there in the wagon-box, and
Edrina and Harriet chattered like eager little swallows in springtime—but Piper,
for her part, was content just to be with them all.

It was later in the evening, long after they’d arrived at the
ranch house, to which Dara Rose and Clay were already adding rooms, when the
women finally got a chance to talk. They’d had a big supper, a boisterous affair
replete with all sorts of food, and Edrina and Harriet had hung their stockings
on the living room mantel and gone to bed with no fuss or delay. Dara Rose had
retreated to nurse the baby and tuck him into his cradle near the kitchen table,
where they sat, now that she’d returned. Clay liked to build things, when he had
the time, and baby Jeb had several cradles, in various parts of the house.

The men had gone to the barn right after supper, and they
weren’t back yet.

“You seem happy, Piper,” Dara Rose ventured gently. She was a
pretty woman, with blond hair, like her daughters’, and lively eyes, full of
joyful intelligence. “Are you? Truly, I mean?”

Piper blushed slightly, and then nodded. “Yes,” she said. “I’m
very
happy. I’ll miss you, though. When Sawyer
and I move to Arizona, I mean.”

“We’ll write often,” Dara Rose promised, reaching out to pat
Piper’s hand. “And when the baby is older, we’ll come for a long visit.” The
house was warm, being well-insulated, unlike the schoolhouse, with a
wood-burning furnace and intermittent electrical services. There were several
fireplaces, and the kitchen stove was a magnificent thing, with a hot-water
reservoir that could be accessed by a spigot.

“Sawyer says Arizona is a fine place,” Piper remarked. It had
been a while since she’d seen Dara Rose, due to distance and pregnancy, and
there was so much to say that it was hard to choose a place to start.

Dara Rose nodded. “Finally,” she confirmed, smiling. “Clay says
his granddad thinks it would have been better if Arizona remained a territory,
says there’d be less interference from the federal government that way.”

Piper had heard stories about Angus McKettrick, the head of the
family, who had originally hailed from Texas. Sawyer clearly idolized the man,
though he’d come right out and said his grandfather was three years older than
dirt and deaf as a fencepost, so she shouldn’t be alarmed if he shouted at her
to “Speak up so I can hear you, little gal!”

“I think I’m a bit intimidated,” she confessed. “By the family,
I mean. There are so many of them, and they’re all strong-minded and utterly
fearless, from what Sawyer’s told me. Why, his own mother used to be a
sharpshooter, traveling with a Wild West show.”

Dara Rose laughed. “And Miss Mandy,” she said, “is one of the
tamer
ones.”

“Good heavens,” Piper fretted. She had Annie Oakley for a
mother-in-law.

“Don’t worry,” Dara Rose counseled. “I was only teasing. I’ve
met Clay’s folks—they came to visit not too long after we got married, traveled
all that way by train—and I was real nervous before then. I took a powerful
liking to them both right away, and so did the girls.” She paused. “Here’s the
thing about the McKettricks, Piper. Once you marry into the family, you’re one
of them, for life. Jeb and Chloe—Clay’s mother and father—they don’t seem to see
Edrina and Harriet as their son’s stepchildren, any more than he does. To them,
the girls are as much a part of the clan as anybody born with the name. They’re
extraordinary people, really.”

Growing up, Piper reflected, she and Dara Rose had depended
mostly on each other, when it came to family. It would be lovely to be part of a
large group of kinfolks.

“I just hope they like me,” Piper said.

“Believe me,” Dara Rose insisted, just as the men came in from
outside, accompanied by Clay’s dog, “they will.”

“Are the girls asleep?” Clay asked, bending to kiss Dara Rose’s
cheek after hanging up his hat and coat and kicking off his boots to walk about
in his stocking feet.

“They’re probably pretending they are,” Dara Rose said in
reply, and all the love she felt for Clay McKettrick showed in her eyes as she
watched him lean over the cradle to make sure the baby was warm enough.

Sawyer, dispensing with his own coat and hat—he’d put his sling
back on for the ride out from town—crossed to Piper and kissed her ear, sending
a fiery shiver through her.