Kiss of The Christmas Wind (3 page)

She pulled the damp cloth from his tight grasp. “That’s all, T.J. You best start packing while I put away the food. I’ll be in to help you soon.”

Thad kissed her cheek and left before he was tempted to risk all they had by refusing to chase Sawyer and Reeves, and by telling the authorities what they could do with their demanding and dangerous job! He couldn’t, because he was a man of honor, and he’d given his word to be marshal here. What he hadn’t thought to ask was how long it would take to satisfy his debt?

He’d taken this job with good intentions, even thought he’d enjoy it and need it; but he didn’t. Not once after he’d moved here and gotten a taste of what he’d been missing all his life. He’d worked ranches on undercover assignments, but he’d never owned one. He’d never been married, never been in love. He hadn’t known he would want only his wife, home, and ranch in such a short time. He hadn’t known he would resent every time he was compelled to leave them behind. He had believed it would take longer to settle down, to change his life-style completely.

Carrie Sue had made the difference. Together they had made this ranch theirs, down to the rocking
J
on the wooden arch that spanned the road onto their land. They had their future brand on a post; now, he wanted it on cattle and horses. The few they owned still carried Carnes’s boxed C mark. He wanted to do the heavy chores while she tended the house and children. He wanted to be at her side every night. He wanted to be with her on holidays, not miss them as he had Thanksgiving because miners were squabbling over claims and killing off each other on the Big Thompson River, which wasn’t even his territory, but he’d been called in to assist the authorities there. He wanted his feet firmly planted on his land, their land, where his heart now belonged.

Carrie Sue entered the room. “How’s it coming, T.J.?”

His smoky gray eyes looked up from the task his hands were doing. “I’m about finished,” he replied in a somber tone.

“You get everything you’ll need? She glanced at the things he’d laid out to make certain he’d be warm in the freezing weather.

“Yep,” he responded, then stuffed the items into saddlebags. “I cleaned my weapons after my return, so they’re ready for use again. The rest of my gear is in the barn. I’ll get it in the morning.”

“I have your supplies prepared. The food from supper’s on the back porch to prevent spoiling. Your two canteens are filled and on the table.” As usual, she’d send him off with a full stomach of scrambled eggs, hot biscuits, invigorating coffee, and fried meat. Accustomed to cooking and tending himself on the trail, he wouldn’t have any trouble with meals, unless wood was too wet to burn.

“Thanks, love.” Thad walked into the parlor and sat his possessions beside the door. He put his gun belt of double holsters with two Frontier Colts, his ’73 lever-action Winchester rifle, and knife-in-sheath atop them. His bedroll, slicker, and extra blanket were in the barn with his saddle. It wouldn’t take him long at first light to finish his tasks to leave.
Leave,
Lordy how he had come to resent that word and action. Deep inside, maybe he was hoping for a blizzard to strike so he wouldn’t have to go. It wouldn’t, and he would. But the sooner he did, the sooner he could return.

“We’d best turn in, love. It’s getting late. I feel like I’m heading for prison instead of—” He halted when he saw the effect of that rash word on his wife. “I’m sorry, love.”

“Don’t be, T.J. You don’t have to watch every word you say to me. I wonder how Darby’s doing,” she murmured. “Sometimes I feel guilty about him being in prison and me being free.”

“I’m responsible, love, but it had to be done.”

“I don’t blame you, T.J. If you hadn’t captured my brother, some other lawman would have, and he could have been killed. Or worse, a bounty hunter could have gotten to him, to us, first. They have no mercy. The Stover Gang had to be stopped, and you were assigned to do it.”

Thad reminded, “His trial went well. He had a good lawyer and a strong defense. It was proven many of the charges against him and the gang weren’t true. Few people had been hurt during his crimes, especially by him. He was lucky on that count, considering he was an outlaw for seven years. That trait went strong in his favor. Besides, all the money from his last job was recovered. If you’ll remember, the newspapers and public almost made a hero of him, a gentleman bandit, a real western legend.”

“Those interviews and stories your friend Bill ran helped a lot. So did those telegrams from the Texas Governor and President to remind the court those violent deeds were frames by the Hardings.”

“I think everyone realized there were mitigating circumstances for all of you becoming and staying outlaws. The way his lawyer presented his case, he had the court and public on Darby’s side. The crowd was screaming for a pardon, but the judge knew that was impossible; Darby will have to serve those fifteen years. Nearly six months is gone already. Before you know it, he’ll be out and starting fresh somewhere.”

“That was kind of you to tell him he could come here when he’s freed. He’ll need help. Besides, the judge did say there was a possibility of an early parole if the right things happened, whatever that means. East Texas just seems so far away. I wish I could visit him.”

“He wouldn’t want you to see him in a place like that, no man would.”

“I wonder if Sally is still waiting for his release.”

Both reflected on the saloon girl that Darby loved and who loved Darby Stover and had sworn she would wait for him, even though Darby had told her not to do so.

“I sent his letter to her in San Angelo, but I doubt she’ll take heed to it. From what I’ve learned since meeting you, woman, love is too powerful to be destroyed or denied. She’ll wait for him.”

“I’m glad. I’m also glad she quit the saloon and is working for that seamstress. That tells how much Darby changed her.”

“Love changed her, Carrie Sue, just like it changed us. How else would a Texas Ranger and Special Agent wind up with the Texas Flame? Or a beautiful and daring desperado yield to a persistent lawman on her tail?”

She jested, “Because we’re both irresistible, of course.”

Thad swept her into his arms and carried her into the other room. He placed her feet on the floor near the bed. “I love you, Carrie Sue Stover Jamison, and I need you,” he said in a husky voice.

“I love you and need you, Marshal Thaddeus Jerome Jamison.” She unbuttoned his shirt and peeled it off his broad shoulders. She spread kisses on the bronzed surface. She removed her dress and undergarments, then pressed her silky flesh against his. She gazed into his eyes and challenged, “Why don’t you capture me again tonight, Mister Lawman?”

He discarded the rest of his clothes and accepted the heady inducement. He covered their naked bodies with the quilt and her lips with his. This was one trail he would never tire of riding . . .

On December eighteenth,
one week before Christmas, the couple rose while it was still dark outside to send Marshal Jamison on his way.

With a delicious breakfast under his belt, Thad saddled his horse, a black stallion named Nighthawk. He and the animal sent bursts of white, hot breath into the frigid air from their mouths and nostrils. The frozen ground crunched beneath boots and hooves during their movements and tried to imprison them in the depressions made. A dense bluish haze concealed the ridges that nearly surrounded his ranch. He hoped the lighter one on his level would lift as the day continued, as he needed good visibility for his pursuit. The ground was white, as were many ice-encased limbs. Most evergreens attempted to expose as much color as they could beneath their tattered cloaks of ivory. It was a wild and rugged land, but beautiful and challenging.

Carrie Sue watched her husband tie bedroll, blankets, and slicker into place near the hand-tooled bags that held his garments. Two canteens and supply sacks hung from his pommel. His Winchester was in a leather holder on his saddle, and his Colts were strapped around his waist. The knife-in-sheath was secured near his calf, in easy and quick reach when needed.

She knew her cheeks were as red
and her nose as numb as Thad’s were. Both were bundled up, but the Colorado cold and wind still seemed to find little places to sneak up on her body. Beneath gloves, her hands felt stiff and frozen, and she was certain his were too. The redhead shuddered and blinked as northern gusts dipped into the valley, tugging at her clothes and lashes. She glanced at the narrow scarf around Thad’s head and beneath his hat to make sure his ears and neck were protected.

“Don’t push yourself, T.J., trying to return fast. Keep a sharp eye on the weather; you don’t want it as an enemy too. Guard your back, my love.”

Thad pulled her against him. Their misty respirations blended as they gazed into each other’s eyes. Their mouths meshed and they shared a soul wrenching and body-stirring kiss. They embraced tightly.

“I’ll be careful, love. Get back inside and get warm. I’ll see you soon.”

They parted for Thad to mount. Their gazes locked once more for a brief moment, gazes that revealed their love and concern for the other.

“Goodbye, Carrie Sue. Stay safe, woman.”

“Goodbye, T.J. I love you.”

“I love you, too. Now get inside. I’m gone.”

But the redhead watched her husband ride toward the opening between two ridges to begin his journey away from their home. She knew she would spend her days watching for him to reappear and praying for his survival, and spend her nights missing him beside her.

Carrie Sue knew she was skilled and tough enough to ride with him, and if she weren’t pregnant, she would have insisted on helping him. He had told her he wouldn’t stay gone more than two weeks. If he did, she would risk going to search for him. But two weeks meant missing . . .

Christmas was a time for lovers and families to be together. It was a time for loving and sharing, and for being grateful. Yet the only gift she wanted this year was her love back with her. She didn’t want him to feel the kiss of the dark and dangerous night wind alone. She wanted them to be kissed by the joyous Christmas wind together, this year and for countless ones to come.

Would he make it home in a week? Alive and unharmed?

Carrie Sue gathered the eggs, but left their chickens penned up because of cold weather. She tossed feed on the coop floor and gave them fresh water. She fastened the gate, used cleansing snow to scrape chicken-do from her boots, and trudged back to the house. She placed the basket on the table and lifted a milk pail, not wanting to risk carrying too much while she traversed the frozen and often slippery ground.

The redhead went to the barn. She opened the stall doors to let the three steers and other horses roam the snow-covered ground if they needed or wanted exercise today. Cautiously she climbed the ladder into the loft, opened a small door, and tossed down hay for the stock to eat. She closed and bolted the door, then laid aside the pitchfork. With care again, she descended the ladder to the wooden section of the floor.

Carrie Sue went outside to break up an impenetrable surface in the water trough so the animals could drink. As she did so, the heavy iron tool sent echoes across the quiet landscape of breaking ice. As each blow landed, white shards shot in many directions in protest of being disturbed. She was glad the thick trough didn’t allow the entire contents to freeze solid from top to bottom. Later in the winter, it would. Then, she’d have to draw fresh water for the animals from the nearby well each day.

Strong and lithe, she was able to manage the task. She returned the tool to its place, shivering as cold attacked her body through her garments. She closed the barn door to keep as much frigid wind out as possible while she milked the cow. She talked softly to the animal as she placed a short stool near its back legs. She hated to remove her gloves, but she had to do so to get a grip on the cow’s teats. She kept speaking in a mellow tone as she worked as fast as her stiff fingers allowed.

When she finished, Carrie Sue moved the pail so the cow wouldn’t knock it over if she changed positions. She put away the stool, replaced her gloves, and fed the animal. It would be left inside for its own safety. In a day or two, she would need to shovel its stall to prevent a foul stench from building up in the barn.