Authors: Jodi Thomas,Linda Broday,Phyliss Miranda
A Texas Christmas (25 page)
Chapter 9
Sloan took a step back from Tess when the conductor ambled toward them, although it took all his effort to break the magnetism of her curvaceous body. Tess Whitgrove had put some kind of hold on him. Strange how he didn’t feel a whole man unless he was near her.
And the reason why puzzled him. Before he’d come on the train he’d been unable to even speak to her. It had taken a blizzard to open his eyes. And his heart.
Truth of the matter, the pretty banker’s daughter had a way of making him take stock of life and love. He didn’t know if what he felt was love, but he wanted to be near her, wanted to do what he could to help her. And yes, he wanted to hold her in his arms and kiss her until neither had breath left. His mother’s dire warning still sounded in his head, but it grew fainter by the hour.
Just before the conductor reached them, Tess disappeared behind the curtained-off section. He felt the loss acutely.
“Morning, Mr. Sullivan.” The conductor gave him a cheery smile. “Couldn’t sleep?”
“Too many things on my mind I reckon,” Sloan answered. He tried to be civil but it was hard to keep the annoyance from his tone. It rankled that the man had interrupted the precious little private time with Tess. “What’s your excuse?”
“I’m an early riser. Never catch more than five hours of shut-eye a night. Drives my wife plumb batty.” The conductor’s brown mustache wiggled when he talked. The man smoothed some of the wrinkles from his dark blue jacket. “I’m gonna make a pot of coffee. Want some?”
“It’d sure fit the bill.” Sloan glanced around the train car. He found Mrs. Powell right away. The old woman’s head was slumped onto her chest. That meant Rollins must be sitting with Ira. He’d not have wanted to disturb the sweet little woman if she’d been the one with her sick husband.
He followed the conductor toward the caboose, grateful to have something to do. All this sitting around was getting on his nerves, although his gimpy leg appreciated the rest he’d given it. He’d filled in the lulls between helping Tess by worrying about his cattle. He dreaded taking a tally of the dead cows after this storm was over and he could finally check on them. He just prayed the losses wouldn’t completely do him in. The ranch had been barely surviving as it was. His deep sigh filled the air. Nothing he could do about anything now.
Pulling the door shut to the caboose, he decided when daylight came he’d take Tess’s place on the cooking line. He could make the oatmeal. The children would be hungry when they woke up.
Rollins stood when they entered. From the haggard look on his face it didn’t appear the engineer had gotten much sleep.
“How’s Mr. Powell?” Sloan asked.
“About the same, I reckon. Sometimes the fellow’s eyelids flutter and it seems like he’s trying to wake up. But he just keeps sleeping.”
“Maybe that’s a good sign.” Sloan hoped so anyway. Losing the man would take a terrible toll on Tess. She seemed to have a personal stake in the man’s recovery. Sloan took a seat at the small table and watched the conductor put the coffee on.
Along about midmorning he was back in the passenger car helping entertain the children and diverting their attention from the increasing cries coming from behind the curtained area when a god-awful banging commenced on the outside metal door.
Hope leaped into his chest that the townsfolk had managed to get to them. He handed the youngest girl her rag doll and got to his feet.
He wasn’t quick enough. Deacon Brown and Charles Flynn beat him to the door. They opened it to find a half-frozen stranger.
Sloan looked beyond the man for signs of others. But he was all alone except for a pitiful-looking mule out in the snow.
The stranger stared from one face to the next. “Saw the train stuck here and thought you might let me come in and warm up a spell.”
“You’re welcome to join us,” Sloan said, closing the door against the bitter cold. “What are you doing out in this norther?”
The man’s shaggy eyebrows were coated with ice. He made a beeline toward the stove, tugging off his gloves as he went. “Me an’ old Jughead out there are what you might call roamers. We don’t light in one place long. We just go wherever the wind blows us.”
Seemed to be the norm these days. The stalled train was busier than a brothel in a cow town. First Deacon Brown and now this man. However, this stranger lacked Deacon’s surly attitude.
Sloan poured him a cup of coffee from the pot that sat on top of the stove. “I’m Sloan Sullivan.”
“Pleased to meet you, Sullivan. Big Jim Crockett.”
Deacon and the rest introduced themselves in turn. Just then Maryellen let out a screeching wail behind the curtain. Jim Crockett jerked, sloshing his coffee onto his hand.
“Forgive the noise. We have a female passenger in the throes of childbirth,” Sloan explained.
“No better time to welcome a new life into the world than Christmas Eve.” Big Jim took a big swig of coffee.
“We’ve been expecting folks from Kasota Springs to come to our rescue since the snow stopped. In fact, when you hammered on the door I thought it might be them.”
“Hate to break it to you folks, but they ain’t gonna git to you today. Ain’t never seen such huge snowdrifts in all my born days. Jughead floundered in some and like to not’ve gotten out. That snow is up to my waist in spots.”
“Which direction did you come?” Sloan prayed the man hadn’t come from Kasota Springs.
“I came from the northwest. The whole Panhandle is buried under a mountain of snow, mister. I’m about to freeze up here. Me and ol’ Jughead are heading south where it’s warmer. I’d like to find me a nice patch of sunshine.” Big Jim chuckled. “Got a feelin’ Jughead wouldn’t mind that a bit either.”
The last vestige of hope died that things weren’t as bad as they appeared. Sloan would keep Big Jim’s news to himself. The passengers needed to have faith that somehow, someway, the people in Kasota Springs would form a rescue party.
“When did you eat last, Big Jim?” Sloan asked.
The barrel-chested man rubbed his bristly graying whiskers. “I rightly recall it was yesterday sometime.”
“You wait here and rest up. I’ll be right back with some food.”
Big Jim glanced around the car. “Are you right sure you can spare the vittles? No telling how long you’ll be stuck.”
“We’re happy to share what we have. Isn’t that what the Good Book teaches us?” Sloan didn’t give the man time to either agree or disagree. He limped down the aisle toward the caboose.
When he got even with the partitioned area, Maryellen let out a painful wail. He paused and stuck his head in. Tess looked up. “How are things going with the little mama?”
The black shadows under Tess’s luminous amber eyes made him wince. Her face was haggard and she looked dead on her feet. “I don’t know,” she whispered, tears swimming in her eyes. “I wish I knew what I was doing. I don’t know if this is normal or not.”
Sloan stepped inside the cubicle and took her in his arms. He didn’t say a word, just held her close and smoothed her hair, sucking in the faint fragrance of honeysuckle.
After some long moments he spoke. “I have to get some food from the caboose but I’ll be right back. I’ll sit with Mrs. Langtry for a while. I’m going to see to it that you get some rest.”
She opened her mouth as though to argue, but Sloan would have none of that. “It’s not open for discussion.”
“You’re awful bossy, Sully Sullivan.” Her slight smile wobbled.
“These passengers have taken advantage of your generous nature and I’ll have no more of it. It’s time you got some rest or I’ll know the reason why.”
Sloan hated leaving her but he knew the faster he got Big Jim taken care of, the sooner Tess could rest.
A short time later, Sloan was back to sit with Maryellen. He’d fed Big Jim and seen the man on his way.
When Sloan had tried to get the man to stay the night, Big Jim had balked. “I was in a Yankee prison during the war. Ever since then I can’t abide being indoors. I get the phobia. The walls start to close in, smotherin’ and chokin’ me.”
And so Big Jim Crockett gathered up his mule and left.
Sloan gently pushed Tess toward an empty bench seat across the aisle and coaxed her into lying down. She’d no sooner curled up than her eyes had drifted shut. Sloan took her place by Maryellen’s side. He wiped sweat from the woman’s forehead and took her hand in his, rubbing the back of it lightly.
“Mr. Sullivan, it hurts so bad.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am. Wish I could help you. But maybe it would make things easier if you keep your thoughts on that sweet little babe who’s struggling to be born. I’ll bet he’s real anxious to see his mama. Think of the joy of holding him in your arms.”
“I’ll try.”
“That’s all I can ask. Just try to block out the pain.”
An hour ticked by with Maryellen’s pains coming one right after another. Laying a hand on her swollen stomach, he determined the babe was on the verge of entering the world.
While he contemplated the enormity of the situation, the curtain moved and Deacon Brown stepped around it.
“You’d better have a good reason for being back here, Deacon.”
The man raised both hands as though to ward Sloan off. “We haven’t seen eye to eye since I boarded the train, but just listen to what I have to say.”
“Tell me why I should hear you out.”
“On account of I’m a doctor.”
Sloan snorted. “Yeah, and I’m President Grover Cleveland.”
Deacon met his piercing gaze. “I don’t blame you for doubting. I know I don’t look much like a doctor, but it’s the truth.”
“And you didn’t speak up before now because why? You knew we needed a doctor in the worst way.”
“I swore I’d never practice medicine again after I made a grievous mistake that killed a patient.” The red-bearded man wearily rubbed his eyes. “I never intended to come forward, but I can’t sit by and keep listening to this woman who’s in such obvious pain when there may be something I can do about it.”
A scream erupted from Maryellen’s throat. “Please help me. Please someone just help me.”
Sloan knew they were wasting precious time. He motioned Deacon to the woman’s side. “If you harm her you’ll answer to me.”
Tess leaped from the bench seat where she’d been sleeping as Sloan left the cubicle. “I heard Maryellen . . .” she began.
“Sorry she woke you.” He wanted to pull her into his arms and bury his face in her hair. But there were too many eyes on them. Instead he took her hand. “You weren’t asleep long enough.”
“Why aren’t you in there with her?”
“Because the doctor has taken over.” He quickly told her about Deacon and his claim to be a doctor. “I don’t know whether to trust him or not, but it seems we have little choice. Maryellen needs more skilled hands than ours.”
Frankly, Sloan was relieved that they’d been replaced. Cows he knew about. Pregnant female passengers were another matter altogether.
“Well, I’m going to be with Maryellen or I’ll know the reason why. She needs a woman by her side.” And with that Tess tightened her jaw and pushed aside the blanket.
She was just in time to hear Deacon Brown say, “Mrs. Langtry, will you let me raise your nightgown and assess the situation?”
Maryellen gripped Tess’s hand and nodded.
A second later, Deacon smiled. “I can see the babe’s head. You’re almost there. When the next pain comes, I want you to push as hard as you can.”
“You hear that, Maryellen?” Tess’s tremulous smile came as tears of relief filled her eyes.
With the next hard tightening of her body, Maryellen gritted her teeth and gave a mighty push. Deacon rose, cradling the newborn in his arms.
“You have a son, Mrs. Langtry.” He laid the baby boy on Maryellen’s stomach and cut the cord with his knife.
There was dead silence. No baby’s lusty cry. No sounds from either inside or outside the curtained section. It seemed the world had gone quiet and deathly still.
Chapter 10
Maryellen lay spent, barely conscious. Tess wasn’t even sure the woman had heard Deacon Brown. The new mother was exhausted and drenched with sweat despite the mounds and mounds of snow beyond the train windows.
Had Maryellen gone through such an ordeal only to have the fruits of her labor yanked from her arms?
Tess tried to swallow but found it impossible. The baby boy had turned blue. “Deacon, why isn’t he crying?”
“Mucus. I’ve got to get the mucus out of his throat.” He held the infant by the feet and dangled him.
Still no cry.
Suddenly the curtain parted and Sloan ordered, “Let me have him. I may be able to save him.”
Deacon didn’t argue, just passed the babe to Sloan.
Sloan gathered the tiny babe in his arms and pressed his mouth to the infant’s. He blew gently several times. Tess held her breath, praying that God would have mercy.
And then there was a feeble cry.
And another.
Each one grew louder and lustier than the last.
Tess smiled through her tears as cheers of joy rose from the passenger car. Sloan handed her the small bundle and she wrapped the tiny infant in a knitted shawl that she’d dug out of Maryellen’s carpetbag.
Her gaze met Sloan’s. “How did you know what to do?”
“When calves aren’t breathing after I pull them, I’ve been known to blow into their mouths. It usually does the trick. I figured the best way to get them breathing was to share some of my air. I figured if it worked for calves, it would work for infants.”
“Thank God it did.” She proudly carried the babe into the midst of the passengers to show him off. Everyone crowded around.
The oldest orphan girl, Martha, reverently touched the newborn’s cheek. “It’s baby Jesus.”
A lump formed in Tess’s throat and she blinked hard.
The littlest girl shyly kissed the top of the small head. And the two boys, one on each side, gently lifted each of the babe’s hands, smiling when his fingers closed around theirs.
Mrs. Abner loudly harrumphed and held something toward Tess. “I bought these for my sister who’s expecting a babe next month. I think you can use them.”
Tess accepted a tiny soft gown and a baby blanket made from lamb’s wool. “Thank you, Mrs. Abner. I’m sure this little tyke will appreciate your generosity.”
From the corner of her eye she saw Rollins the engineer gather all the men together. He murmured something and Sloan and the others got their heavy coats, gloves, and hats on. One by one they exited the passenger car, venturing out into the white landscape. Tess watched them curiously, then rose and took the babe to his mother.
“My baby boy,” Maryellen cried weakly.
Tess placed the infant in her arms and couldn’t stop tears from welling. She was filled with the wonder and glory of it all. Happiness swept over her that she was a part of it.
She left Maryellen with her newborn son and made her way to the caboose. It had been quite a while since she checked on Ira Powell.
Omie’s bright smile greeted her. “I heard the news about Maryellen. I’m so happy mother and babe are both all right.”
“Indeed, it’s a miracle. I was very worried there for a while.” Tess put an arm around the old woman’s shoulders. “How are you doing? You look worn to a frazzle.”
“I’m a little worse for wear but not complaining. Ira seems to be sleeping peacefully now.”
“Hallelujah! That’s wonderful news. I’m just sorry I threw his care onto you and Rollins. I had no choice though.”
“Don’t give it another thought, my dear. Everything worked out the way it was supposed to.”
Tess got a large pan and went out to fill it with snow. She came back in and put it on the stove to heat. “I’ve got to get Maryellen and the babe cleaned up. Then I’ll be able to focus on getting something cooking for supper.”
“You just take care of Maryellen and the little one. I’ll handle the meal,” Omie said.
A little over an hour later Tess had washed Maryellen and her infant and had gotten a cup of hot tea into her. Tess was pleased at the color that had returned to the young mother’s cheeks.
She was sitting with the children, relaxing a bit when she happened to glance out the window. She couldn’t believe her eyes.
The rescuers had come!
Anxious to tell the others, she rose and made the announcement. Raucous cheers went up.
A short while later, the group of men that probably numbered twenty or more tromped in from outside, bringing lots of cold air with them. Tess’s gaze locked with Sloan’s. He had a wide smile on his full lips and a twinkle in his eye.
While the rest of the men hovered around the fire, he made a beeline for Tess and took the seat beside her. “Good news. With a little luck we’ll have you, your patients, and your Christmas bell to Kasota Springs in a couple of hours.”
“I can’t believe it.”
“We went out to survey everything and discovered that once we shoveled the huge drifts from in front of the cowcatcher, the train should have no problem making it on down the track.” He grasped her hand and raised the back of it to his lips. “But there’s more. We’re closer to town than anyone thought. Seems Rollins missed a mile marker because of the blowing snow. He thought we were ten miles out when in fact, we’re only about five. We found a mile marker buried in a drift.”
“This is indeed a season for miracles.” Tess’s heart swelled to near bursting. “If we can get the bell unloaded once we get there, we’ll be able to ring it tomorrow.”
“Not only on this Christmas Day but for years to come. And all because of you.”
But now that she had the means within sight for the acceptance she’d sought, it had lost importance. They had survived unbelievable conditions. No one had died. And they’d welcomed a precious new life into the world. All that was far more important than whether narrow-minded people respected her.
Sloan threaded his fingers through hers and leaned his head against the back of the seat. A need for this tall rancher swept through Tess. She didn’t know what she’d do if things went back the way they were a few days ago.
Her bottom lip trembled. “Sully, what’s going to happen to us?”
“I wanted to talk to you about that.” His shoulder rubbed hers in a companionable way. “How would you feel if I come courting?”
Ribbons of joy wound around her heart. “I’d like that.”
“Would your father approve?”
That part didn’t much matter. She’d fight with everything she had to hang on to what she’d found with Sully Sullivan. But the simple truth was that her father would welcome him with open arms. Benjamin Whitgrove didn’t judge and didn’t base a man’s worth on the size of his bank account.
Her smile stretched wide. “My father will be overjoyed that there’s hope for his spinster daughter yet.”
“We still have lots of things to work out and some difficult decisions to make. But I’m willing to give it a try if you are, my dear Miss Whitgrove.”
She watched Rollins leave the passenger car to go start the process of firing up the engine. Her heart was singing as she stood. “I think this calls for Christmas carols. How about it, everyone?”
“Yes!” three of the four orphans hollered.
And so she began with “O Little Town of Bethlehem.”
At exactly 3:52
P.M.
, Engine Number 208 of the Fort Worth and Denver City Railroad chugged into the Texas Panhandle town of Kasota Springs. Christmas carols were still echoing up and down the train tracks, filling the air with glad tidings.
P.M.
, Engine Number 208 of the Fort Worth and Denver City Railroad chugged into the Texas Panhandle town of Kasota Springs. Christmas carols were still echoing up and down the train tracks, filling the air with glad tidings.
A group of townsfolk, led by the beautiful rancher, Tempest LeDoux, greeted the weary travelers. The train had barely stopped before she barged up the steps, firing orders right and left like a Gatling gun that had run amuck.
Sloan, who had left his sled behind and ridden the train into town, assisted Mrs. Abner and the little orphans off first. He was in the process of helping Tess get Maryellen Langtry and her new son bundled up when Tempest grabbed the reins right out of his hands.
“Maryellen, can’t believe you decided to have this baby without us.” Tempest tenderly cradled the small son.
“Mrs. LeDoux.” Sloan addressed her that way because he could never keep count of which husband she was on at the moment. The last he knew was number five. “We appreciate your help, we truly do, but let us get our bearings first. We’ve had a rough few days.”
Tempest grinned and drawled in that sultry Southern voice of hers, “I declare, Sully, I believe that’s the most I’ve ever heard you say in one sitting.”
And she went right on barking directions as if she’d never heard a word he’d said.
Sloan knew when he was whipped and quickly got out of her way. But then Maryellen Langtry’s husband, Earl, almost plowed him down in his excitement to get to his wife and son.
Feeling as though he stood smack in the middle of a hurricane, he finally reached the door and assisted Tess to the platform where half the town milled about.
Farther down at the caboose, a bevy of men were carefully unloading Ira Powell, who was bundled from head to toe. Omie Powell trailed behind them. They were marching to Doc Mitchell’s office like a group of soldiers, having to lift their feet high to clear the huge drifts.
Watching Tempest LeDoux’s small army with amusement, Sloan put his arm around Tess to protect her from the onslaught.
Suddenly Tess broke free and flew into her parents’ arms for a joyous reunion.
Acute loneliness swept over him. He had no one to welcome him. No one, possibly with the exception of Tess, who cared that he’d not frozen to death in the blizzard that was one for the record books.
He turned away, unable to bear the pain. Shoving his hands into his coat pockets, he encountered the firearms he’d confiscated.
Finding Charles Flynn in the livestock car unloading his dappled gray, Sloan held out the man’s pistol. “Hope there’s no hard feelings.”
Flynn took the pistol. “Guess I lost my head for a while. You see, I lost my wife to scarlet fever.”
“You have my condolences.”
Grateful that things had worked out, Sloan gathered his horse and led the gelding toward the livery for the night. Tess broke away from the homecoming with Mr. and Mrs. Whitgrove and fell into step with him.
“Randall Humphrey isn’t at the livery.” Tess pointed toward the freight and baggage car where the blacksmith/ livery owner and a group of men were unloading the Christmas bell.
Sloan draped an arm casually around her shoulders, enjoying the sound of snow crunching under their feet. “You got it here in time. You have every right to be satisfied.”
“For a fact I am. Sully, where . . . ?”
Deacon Brown suddenly appeared, interrupting Tess in midsentence. “Sullivan, can I have a word with you? I got something that needs saying.”
“What’s that, Deacon?”
“I’m sure you’re wondering how I came to wander upon the train.” Deacon squinted up at Sloan. “Well, I’ll tell you. I was headed to your ranch to kill you.”
Tess gasped in alarm and gripped Sloan’s arm.
“What did I do to you that you wanted to take my life?” Sloan asked quietly.
“Not to me. My sister. Carrie Huxley ring a bell?”
Mention of the name knocked the breath from Sloan. An overwhelming stillness seeped into every crack and crevice of his soul. He knew what it must feel like to die. The quiet, the feeling of life leaving his body, and the empty void that was left.
Unable to look at Tess, unable to bear the questions he knew were in her eyes, he answered, “I remember her.”
He’d not been able to forget the depth of Carrie’s sorrow when he’d shot and killed her husband. Lord knows he’d tried. Some things stayed with a man and became a part of his fabric whether he wanted them to or not. It didn’t matter that the shooting was a terrible tragic accident. The truth remained; the man had died by Sloan’s hand.
The north wind ruffled Deacon’s red beard. “My sister hanged herself two weeks ago. She couldn’t live another day without her husband.”
Shock rippled through Sloan. He momentarily closed his eyes to block out the rush of pain. “I’m truly sorry. If I could go back and undo the events of that day, I would in a heartbeat.”
“You’re not the man I thought you’d be. I thought I could hate you. I thought it would be easy to pull the trigger and end your life.”
“What stopped you?”
“It was several things. The way you cared for the people on the train. The sweetness of that little orphan girl Martha who took a liking to me. The birth of Mrs. Langtry’s babe. The beautiful Christmas carols that I’d not heard in a very long while.” Deacon Brown drew his buffalo robe together. “I’ll leave you and Miss Whitgrove now. Merry Christmas.”
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