Authors: Jodi Thomas,Linda Broday,Phyliss Miranda

A Texas Christmas (29 page)

BOOK: A Texas Christmas

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Rand almost ran back into the corral near the wagon yard. Jughead, the most temperamental mule between the Canadian River and the Rio Grande, was nowhere to be found. With plenty of able-bodied horses around, why in the hell had his brother—correction, half brother—stolen a dumbas-a-stump mule?

Rand sat down on a bale of hay just inside the lean-to and stared out into the night, watching the howling north wind whip the snow around. He dusted snow off his beard. He’d been too busy to take good stock of the deteriorating weather conditions. Flakes no longer fell straight to the ground but blew horizontally, hurling into huge banks. He almost couldn’t make out his hand in front of his face.

Jim Crockett couldn’t have made it far without losing his way in the snow. Rand had seen it before. Soon the town would be isolated and paralyzed. Only a fool would try to go anywhere . . . not tonight, not tomorrow, and most likely not the day afterward.

Chapter 5

Sarah tried not to think about her confrontation with Aunt Edwinna. She hadn’t been around her for a while, and as far as she was concerned, another three or four decades wouldn’t matter in the least. She was the most condescending woman Sarah believed she’d ever met; and since the birth of the twins, things had gotten more stressful between them. The worst part was, they were family and there wasn’t anything either of them could do about it.

Shuddering, Sarah chastised herself for allowing her aunt to even talk her into coming to Kasota Springs in the first place. She would have been better off to have kept the twins in Carroll Creek and forgone the holiday festivities. A nice quiet, uneventful celebration of Christmas was more to her liking, but the twins needed to know their family . . . what was left of it.

On the other hand, if Sarah had not come she’d not have met Randall Humphrey, probably the most intriguing man she’d ever come across. On the surface he was as pleasant as a rattler with a tummyache and the mind-set of a hungry coyote. Yet inside, he had to be a warm, caring man. For whatever reasons known only to him, he apparently didn’t want anyone to see that side of him. She found his displeasure with about everything around him amusing. Yep, she suspected the man had to work hard to uphold his beastly persona.

The children were again asleep in front of the crackling fire. Sarah had taken Rand at his word and put the chicken and dumplin’s on to warm. She had located a chamber pot and had seen that the twins’ needs were taken care of. After washing their hands, they eagerly gobbled down the best dumplin’s Sarah believed she’d ever eaten. Quickly, the twins had settled back on their pallet and gone back to sleep while she cleaned up the kitchen area.

Sarah found herself nodding off as she sat in the chair made for a big man, someone like Randall Humphrey. She didn’t want him to find her asleep for fear he’d think she wasn’t watching the children like she should. She picked up the book on the candle table.
A Tale of Two Cities
, and it’d been years since she’d read it. Once she opened the leatherbound volume, she found herself enthralled with the prose all over again.

Minutes turned into an hour or more as she read, enjoying the opportunity to be drawn away from reality into a world of make-believe, something she had been doing quite religiously of late.

She batted her eyes, but when they got too blurry to continue reading, she closed the book and returned it to where she found it.

The weather worried her, and she paced the floor. Finding herself at the window that looked out across the town, she wiped a circle of moisture off the glass but saw nothing but white. Raging winds battered the panels of glass.

Not having seen Rand for a while, Sarah prayed he was safe. The snow-laden winds could easily knock down the strongest of men. And no doubt Randall Humphrey was one strong man.

After making sure the twins’ blankets were tucked warmly around them, she slipped back into the comfortable chair. Sarah snuggled deep inside the rough blanket, and in minutes she drifted off to sleep.

Sometime later, after depositing Sarah’s trunk and two small bags just inside the door, Rand walked through the work area, removed his wet coat, gloves, and Stetson before warming up at the low-burning forge.

He was as ready as he’d ever be to face his visitors.

Although thoughts of Sarah hadn’t left him for long, he now dwelled on what he’d do with the little ones, who he figured to be about three or four years of age. He had little experience in that part of being around kids. Hell, he’d been stripped of that possibility three years ago. Even the town’s kids seemed to hide behind their mothers’ skirts when they saw him comin’ their way.

After warming up both his body and his courage, Rand walked back through the blacksmith’s shop and pulled the heavy wooden doors shut behind him. Separating the work area from the living quarters would keep the great room warmer.

He wasn’t sure what he expected to find inside, but a feeling of coming home certainly wasn’t it. The smell of coffee and tea hovered in the air, and for the first time he could remember, he actually smelled the wood burning in the hearth. What was wrong with him? Had his brain frozen just from being out in the freezing weather?

For the life of him, he couldn’t bring himself to wake the angel sleeping in his chair. He looked down at the children. He couldn’t take the chance of having the fire go out during the night, because sleeping on the floor would be much like sleeping in a frozen creek bed. Besides, he needed to get them from underfoot as soon as possible. He didn’t want a couple of fussy honyocks around come morning.

After all, Rand had work to get done, and if luck was with him, he could spend a quiet Christmas all by himself.

He scooped up a child in each arm and climbed the stairs two at a time. When he reached his mother’s bedroom, he kicked the door open. His biggest concern, that the children would wake up and be frightened, didn’t materialize. Both nestled their faces close to his neck. He settled them in the bed before he located two quilts and carried the covers downstairs.

Now he needed to do something with Sarah. She could sleep in the chair or he could take her to his bedroom upstairs. He kneeled down beside her, but for some reason he couldn’t bring himself to wake her up. She looked so peaceful, and no doubt she had had an exhausting day just traveling, without adding having to traipse through the snow to get to his place. The run-in with her aunt would have caused anxiety to even a rested person.

Rand touched her arm with his finger kinda like he used to see his mama poke a loaf of bread dough when it was rising. He jerked his finger back, as though he thought she might snarl at him. He wasn’t sure he could handle a screaming, terrified woman waking up the whole town.

He stepped back and stared down at Sarah. She didn’t move an iota. Hmm, what should he do now? He could swoop her up and carry her to his bed, but if she woke up she’d probably clobber him and might never speak to him again, so what to do?

“Sarah.” He again squatted down and spoke softly. “Wake up.” He poked her again, then gently grasped her arm and shook her gingerly.

She opened her eyes for only a second and drifted back to sleep, leaving him with two choices—let her sleep in the chair and possibly get a crick in her neck, or he could whisk her off to bed . . . his bed.

He really didn’t have a choice. He wouldn’t be responsible for anything happening to her that would make it impossible for her to leave come morning.

Rand didn’t have to sleep in his own room. Right now a hot cup of coffee, or some warm milkth, as Addie Claire called it, and a bed off the kitchen was good enough for him.

Besides, he’d always liked the tiny cubbyhole to the more spacious room upstairs because he could hear any disturbances from the livery. It had an ol’ bed taken from a bunkhouse that was solid as a rock and somewhat comfortable.

Tonight it’d be best anyway, because that way he’d know if anyone got up in the middle of the night. It’d also be quicker to get up at daybreak, so he could get everyone out of bed and, hopefully, dig out enough to get them to the Springs Hotel and to their aunt Edwinna.

But first things first, moving Sarah without scaring the wits out of her.

Not even becoming winded, Rand lifted Sarah into his arms and carried her to his bedroom.

Weighing little more than a young fawn, Sarah folded into him and slipped her arms around his neck. “Thank you,” she whispered. She smelled sweet and innocent and oh so welcome in his arms. The warmth of her words and the feel of her body against his caused unexpected sensations to rush through him, settling somewhere just as unexpected.

Getting her settled in, he covered her with one of his mother’s quilts. Oh, how he was tempted to take advantage of her and see if her skin was as soft as he imagined and her lips as yielding as he figured they’d be, but he chastised himself for even the bastardly thoughts.

The way he was feeling right now, one touch could stir up emotions he was determined to never feel again—not with a woman that wasn’t his wife. Maybe he needed a long walk in the snow to put out the fire raging in him.

Reality set in. For all Rand knew, Sarah could be a married woman. Edwinna had only referred to her as her niece and the children as the twins. There was nothing in her appearance that screamed married—no wedding ring, but she wasn’t wearing widow’s weeds either. Sarah seemed much too proper to have children and not be wed.

Rightfully, the whole issue should have been moot to him.

By morning, if the weather cooperated and he could dig out, Sarah Callahan and the twins would be safely out of his life . . . and out of his bed.

Chapter 6

Somewhere between midnight and sunrise, Rand rolled over on his side and looked out the open door into the kitchen. Light flooded the room. It was early, very early. Long before sunrise. It’d been a while, but he recognized the weather phenomenon he knew as whiteout, where heavy snow turned night into day.

Be it a one-inch or one-foot snowfall, nobody with any smarts about them would venture out, because they could get turned around in a heartbeat and never find their way to safety.

There was no urgency to begin his day in this weather. Although there was a chill in the air, it wasn’t as cold as he thought it might be. The fire needed to be tended to, but since the room was still fairly comfortable, he’d stay put and enjoy the warmth of his bed. He rolled to his back and pulled the covers over his chest.

Sleep had evaded Rand.

First, he worried that the children weren’t warm enough, so he’d ventured upstairs to make certain they hadn’t thrown their covers off. Then, of course, he’d stopped on his way back to check on Sarah, who was snuggled deep beneath the quilts. He’d added logs to the fire twice. Once back in bed, he tried unsuccessfully to get some sleep.

After what seemed like hours passed, Rand had pulled on his boots and a jacket to check on sounds coming from the livery. Finding nothing out of order, he returned to his bed figurin’ that the dang mama cat that had a litter up in the hayloft was probably playing around upsetting the horses. He supposed her kittens were big enough to wean, although he hadn’t seen hide nor hair of them. A family of felines was another thing he wasn’t too keen on inheriting.

Rand couldn’t remember the last time he had slept late.

Typically, by the time the rest of the businesses opened their doors, Rand had already put in several hours of work. As far back as he could remember, a hard day’s work never scared him. Even when he worked on the Waco suspension bridge and came home exhausted, with little rest, he was up and raring to go long before sunrise.

Taking a deep breath, he exhaled, relishing his memories.

That’s when he sensed someone beside his bed. Generally, that would put him on full alert, even make him reach for his Colt, but this smelled of peppermint, probably coming from the supply of peppermint sticks he’d been saving for a while from bags of Arbuckle coffee.

He kept his eyes shut and tried not to move, although he could make out the twins between his thick eyelashes. Lying flat on his back, most likely all they saw was his beard, sideburns, and mustache, so what were the little tarts up to?

“Is he dead?” the tiny girl’s voice said.

“Naw, he ain’t dead,” Damon said, barely above a whisper.

Rand felt pressure on the side of the bed as they leaned down on their elbows and used the mattress to support their chins. He could feel their minty breath against his cheeks.

“Bet he is, and now I won’t get any warm milkth,” Addie Claire said with tears in her voice.

“Don’t begin that cryin’. He ain’t dead.”

“How do you know?”

“’Cause the hair in his nose is still movin’.” They both leaned closer. “See, it’s twitchin’ around, so he ain’t dead.”

“How’d you know that?” Addie Claire asked.

“Saw a bear asleep one night, and he looked jest like that.” Damon had obviously fabricated an explanation.

“But Mr. Frumpy isn’t a bear.”

“Nope, but there could be a bear under all his hair.”

A bear! Heaven to Betsy!

Rand couldn’t contain temptation. He let out a hearty “grrr,” and sat straight up in bed, stretching his hands out in front of him.

The twins returned bloodcurdling screams, louder than anything Rand believed he’d ever heard out of such small mouths. He was pretty sure they stirred up dust when they leaped up and ran for the door.

Rand doubled up with laughter that echoed off the closedin walls of the tiny room. He couldn’t recall the last time he laughed so hard.

From the smell of coffee brewing, the day had begun, and it wasn’t even sun-up yet.

“What in the Hades is going on?” Sarah appeared in the doorway with her hands on her hips. Addie Claire peeped from behind Sarah’s calico skirt and Rand spied Damon’s boots on the other side. Sarah protected her chicks like a mother hen.

Well, true to form, he’d sent more kids hidin’ behind their mama’s skirt tails, but this time they had a reason to be scared of him. Not on purpose, mind you, just something he couldn’t resist doing.

From her red cheeks and her blond hair perfectly in place, he’d say Sarah had been awake for a while, so the screaming hadn’t sent her scurrying down the stairs to see what was wrong with the children.

Sarah looked him up and down. When she realized he was in his drawer tail, she directed her attention away from him and onto the children, instructing them to go back into the kitchen.

“I’ll be there in a minute,” she said.

Once they were gone, Rand tossed the quilt back and stood up.

She ducked her head, as though she’d never seen a man in his union suit before; but then he’d imagine she’d probably never seen a man in first-thing-in-the-morning condition before either.

Rand grabbed for his pants and stepped into them. “Sorry if I upset the little ones. I was just funnin’ with them.”

“They aren’t upset as much as scared.” She looked down at him, now that he was sitting on the side of the bed putting on his boots. “Children scream at anything that surprises them, but you shouldn’t have deliberately scared them.”

“Well, they shouldn’t have been lookin’ at the hair in my nose.” He ran his left palm over his thick beard. “All men have hair in their nose.” He quickly changed the subject. It certainly wasn’t appropriate for discussion between a man and a woman.

“I’ve got to go feed the animals.” Rand snorted, a tad upset that she didn’t see the humor in what he’d done. It’d been on a whim and out of character for him. He’d never been spontaneous, and now he knew why.

One thing was certain, the priorities of his day had just changed. A haircut and shave jumped to the top of his list. Unless a miracle happened, from the amount of light streaming in the window, they wouldn’t be going to Sarah’s aunt’s hotel anytime soon, so he might as well not tempt the children to further investigate his facial hair.

“I’ll make sure the twins play quietly and not bother you again.” She pushed back a tendril of blond hair and tucked it back behind her ear. “I have coffee made.”

“I can smell it,” he replied in the only way he knew how: with a minimum of words.

She took a deep breath and shot him a polite, yet brittle smile. “The children’s clothes are dry, so as soon as I can get our things together, we’ll be ready to go to the hotel.” She stiffened her back and squared her shoulders, obviously trying to show him there was no compromising. “I appreciate your hospitality and letting us barge in here, but I’ll not bother you for breakfast. We can eat with—”

“The children need breakfast,” he interrupted.

“I know how to take care of the children, and I think it’s best we get out of your way as soon as possible. I didn’t mean to be a burden on you.” She swallowed hard. “The weather is something I had no control over.”

He read in her voice . . . “And neither do you!”

“You’re not going anywhere,” he snapped much too quickly.

Sarah set her chin in a stubborn line and raised her eyebrow in surprise. He’d been too sharp, and he realized it.

Rand tried to soften his tone, which was somewhat like toning down the sound of an approaching steam engine. “If you’ve looked outside, you’d know we’re smack-dab in the middle of a blizzard and nobody is going anywhere for a while.”

“I should have realized that. I hope the train gets here with the Christmas bell,” she said in a much friendlier voice. “The children were looking forward to hearing it ring on Christmas.”

“Not likely. If it’s as bad outside as I think it will be, it might be days before we can dig out.”

To his surprise, he didn’t see any disappointment in her eyes, rather a glimmer that he took as relief.

“I need to tend to the horses,” he again said.

Rand swore she smelled of sugar and spice as he passed her, or was it the biscuits in the pan on the sideboard?

“Coffee sure will go good with those biscuits. There’s a jar of jam in the cupboard.” Stopping, he turned to her. “I don’t know what kind of jam. Might be plum or chokeberry. And I meant what I said about making yourself at home. We’re stuck together for a bit now, so as long as you and the kids are here, my home is yours.” He stopped, and after giving his next statement a little thought, added, “Up in the bedroom where the twins slept, you’ll find a trunk that belonged to my mama. There’s knittin’ needles and yarn, also some hand towels to stitch on, if you get bored.”

“Thanks. Please don’t let us be a bother, we’ll be fine.”

“You’re no bother.” Without looking back at her, he walked through the great room directly to the forge and added wood. He used the bellows to fuel the fire.

Flames leaped higher and higher.

Fuller and fuller.

Hotter and hotter.

He pumped the bellows as though they would relieve some of his frustration, but for once, it couldn’t lay the blame on others. He’d now have to wallow in a mess of his own making.

The words of his father came to mind. “Doesn’t matter how high the manure is, it’s how even it’s spread out in the end that counts.” At the moment, Rand sure as hell had created a lot of manure for one man to handle.

For just a flash, Rand considered jumping into the roaring fire to see if he was as tough as he thought he was. He’d never been soft and cuddly, probably not as a baby, not as a companion, and certainly not as a husband.

He’d managed to handle the whole morning pretty dern lousy, but he’d reacted the only way he knew how—bossy and unyielding.

Fighting heat, smoke, flames, and noise for so many years contributed to his roughness, but nothing had prepared him to be snowed in with two kids and a gorgeous, strongminded woman.

After he finished his chores, he’d go back in and drink coffee with Sarah and try to mend things with her, make her understand that what she saw was what she got with him. That is, if she hadn’t already bundled up the children and sloshed their way to the hotel.

Rand reached for his apron, but an envelope caught his eye. It was weighted down by a pothook he’d made a few days before. He picked it up and read “Mr. Humphrey. Personal,” written in what Rand could only describe as hen scratching.

Who would have left him a letter?

Just as he was about to open the envelope, a terrifying scream, as shrill as Rand had ever heard in his born days, echoed through the air.

Rand dropped the envelope and rushed to the great room where the commotion was coming from.

One word followed another scream . . .
FIRE!

BOOK: A Texas Christmas

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