Carla Kelly (48 page)

“I thought you weren't coming!”

“Told you I was,” she said, fighting back tears again and ruffling his hair. She ruffled it again. “It's too late tonight, but in honor of Christmas Eve,” she looked at Paul, who winked, “tomorrow, you're headed to the tin tub for a good shampoo.”

“That's what happens when the lady arrives,” Doc said, getting up from the table, a smile on his face. “Glad you're back, Julia. You too, Boss.”

“Everything all right?”

“As rain. Matt will be in from the line shack tomorrow, and I guess we'll be getting ready for Christmas?”

James clapped his hands. “Is it time for Christmas now?”

“I told you it would be, two days after Mr. Darling came back,” Paul reminded the boy. “And here she is.”

Christmas was only one week late. James didn't know, and no one else cared. After James finally went to sleep, Doc walked Julia into the parlor and pointed out the tree.

“You did a marvelous job keeping that alive,” Julia said.

“That's the second tree,” Doc pointed out. “Along about the real Christmas, the first tree—we will call it exhibit A—started shedding its needles. I swear it looked like a dog with mange. After James was asleep, Matt snuck in another tree that he had cut down earlier that day. We took the popcorn and cranberry ropes off really careful and adorned our new, improved tree. It was the grand switcheroo.”

Paul laughed and stretched out on the sofa. “Did you really fool him?”

Doc shook his head. “Sort of.” He turned to Julia, his eyes bright. “You will observe that Exhibit B is taller and more robust than that puny thing you selected.”

“Exhibit A?”

“The very one. James took one look at it, and his eyes got bigger and bigger. Matt and I wanted to crawl into a hole for trying to put one over on him, but he just hugged me and said how wonderful it was that the tree had finally decided to grow.”

“Good for James,” Julia exclaimed.

When Doc and Paul walked to the horse barn, Julia went through the parlor and into James's room to watch him sleep. “I missed you,” she whispered. “I promise you this will be a wonderful Christmas because I missed Christmas too.”

She was in bed before she heard Paul in the kitchen again. To her surprise, he knocked on her door.

Julia put down her scriptures. “Come in.”

He didn't, but he stood in the doorway a moment. “You going to be all right tonight?” he asked.

“I suppose I'd better be,” she replied, shy now, even though they had been so much closer last night in the Pullman car, when she had felt nothing but relief at his presence, calming her fears and coaxing her back to sleep.

“Leave your door open, and you'll probably have Two Bits for company.”

Chin on her knees, she listened to his footsteps recede through the connecting rooms in the dark. She smiled when he tiptoed through James's room. She sighed and settled herself to rest as he slapped the lintel on the archway to his room, something he always did. The sound was familiar and reminded her she was home.

The men kept James busy in the horse barn and corral the next day while she cooked and baked to get ready for Christmas the day after. She wrapped her few presents and put them under Exhibit B, which, she had to agree, was flourishing. Everyone was happy with flapjacks for supper, plus sausage and hash browns, which told her worlds about what they had been eating for the past week.

She was even able to coax Willy Bill and Kringle into the parlor that night, serving iced cookies and applesauce pound cake with hot chocolate—surprisingly good, even if it was made with canned milk, something Miss Farmer never approved of.

Paul brought his Bible into the parlor and read Luke 2. By then, James's head was resting in Julia's lap. She stroked his hair, washed and shampooed twice with her best lavender fragrance. Her eyes were heavy too, and she was pleasantly tired after her day of preparation. It would have been better at home, with Mama to help and Papa offering generally useless advice, and Iris. No, not Iris ever again. She closed her eyes, wondering how Spencer could possibly cope in his empty farmhouse.

But Paul was reading. “‘And suddenly there was with the angels a mighty host, praising God and saying…’ “

Glory to God in the highest,
she thought. She listened, taking heart from the story she had heard every year of her life, realizing that she never tired of it. How far away she was from everyone dear to her, how distant from town was the Double Tipi. It was a ranch in the middle of Wyoming, which most people only thought about when they were crossing the state on the Overland Express. But the parlor was comfortable and Paul's voice soothing. Hard to believe now that he had ever terrified her. Even harder to believe that for the moment, she didn't wish to be anywhere else.

hey opened presents in the parlor after breakfast, when James couldn't wait another minute. Paul accepted her gift of a Gillette safety razor with raised eyebrows and then disappeared into the kitchen. She heard him getting warm water from the Queen Atlantic's reservoir. Fifteen minutes later he returned to the parlor, running his hand over his jaw.

“Superior,” he said. “With a little bay rum, I will be the sweet-smelling envy of nations.”

Willy Bill put on the vest she had purchased for him in Salt Lake, when she had dragged Mama to ZCMI just to get her out of the house. He took his old one and threw it out the door. Matt looked especially fine with his new belt from ZCMI's exclusive Gentlemen's Collection. She had to hold back tears when Kringle just held his six pairs of new wool socks to his chest, speechless.

She had bought Doc a copy of
Gray's Anatomy,
which he had unwrapped and accepted with no hesitation, turning the big book over and over in his hands.

“I sold my copy in Denver for booze,” he said.

“I thought you might have,” Julia said.
In for a penny, in for a pound,
she thought, as Paul watched her, a half smile on his face. “In fact, I'm of the opinion that you should be practicing medicine again, Doc.”

“I'm not going back to Denver,” Doc said, his eyes wary. Still, he cradled the book in his arms.

“Who said anything about Denver? Gun Barrel could use someone besides that old fellow who masquerades as a doctor,” Julia said, keeping her voice neutral. “It's just a thought.”

James had been nearly overwhelmed with more books from the Gillespies and her gift of Crayola crayons and drawing tablets. He lined them up in a neat row and chanted, “Black, brown, blue, red, purple, orange, yellow, and green.” Julia thought of years of largesse from her parents and reminded herself not to whine.

Paul had been pleased by her father's personal copy of the
Autobiography of Parley P. Pratt.
“It's his favorite book, and he thought you might like it,” she said.

“I'll take it to the line shack, Darling.”

“Maybe when you're done, I can borrow the book?”

“It's a promise.”

After the dinner dishes were washed and put away, she took the list Paul had written and went through the pantry, pulling items for the line shack and wishing he wouldn't leave so soon.
Tell him how to run his ranch now,
she scolded herself,
like you told Doc to start a medical practice in Gun Barrel. Honestly, Julia, what is happening to you?

“Walk with me, Darling.”

Every time he left the Double Tipi, he said that, just like every time he went to bed, he slapped the lintel.
People's habits,
she thought.
Walk with me, Darling.

Smiling to herself, she took her coat from its peg and wrapped her muffler around her head. Paul took her arm on the stoop. “Icy,” he commented. “I guess that's all we get this winter for moisture.”

He had a new blanket over his arm, and they walked to Blue Corn's winter home. The Indian smiled his nearly toothless grin to see her and went through an elaborate sign pattern, which made Paul laugh and shake his head.

Julia put more wood in the stove while the two men signed, Paul squatting on his haunches, the Indian warm with an extra pillow—embroidered, a gift from Mama—behind his head and now the new blanket.

The air was cool, but not windy, so she didn't mind walking with Paul to the horse corral, where he whistled and Chief's ears perked up. A few words in Shoshone from Paul, and Chief stood at the rail, nosing Paul's chest for carrots.

“Old bandit,” Paul said, reaching inside his overcoat for carrots. “Darling, I'll be at the line shack for most of the week, then I'm going to the stock show in Denver. That'll be two more weeks, at least.”