The Cowboy Who Saved Christmas

by Jodi Thomas

  “Girls, your mother wanted me to tell you that she has to go back to La Grange to see the doctor there.”

  “She’s sicker, isn’t she?” Katie asked.

  “Is she gonna die too, like our other ma and pa?” Annie asked.

  “I’m taking her back to see the doctor so he can help her.”

  “Why can’t she stay here, so we can take care of her, like she took care of your ma?” Katie asked.

  “She doesn’t want to make anyone else sick.” Clint saw tears forming in Annie’s eyes and he pulled out his bandanna.

  “She’s gonna die and we’ll be all alone,” Annie whimpered.

  “I promise I’m going to take good care of your ma,” Clint told her.

  “Most people die with the fever.” Katie wasn’t showing her emotions like Annie, but Clint thought she was trying to be brave for her younger sister.

  Clint put his arms around their shoulders. “I’m not going to let her die.”

  Annie looked up at him, and through her tears, she asked, “You promise, Mr. Mitchum?”

  “You have my word on that.” Clint didn’t allow himself to think of all the things that could go wrong having made that promise. But he couldn’t let these girls down.

  Katie jumped up and stared Clint in the eye. “You can’t say that! She’s probably going to die, just like everyone else.”

  Clint reached for Katie and pulled her in his arms. He felt her small body trembling, and she finally lost control and started sobbing uncontrollably. Annie stood and nudged her way under one of Clint’s arms until he was holding both of them. “I promise you girls I will do everything I can to help your mother. Will you trust me?”

  Both girls nodded.

  After a few moments, Katie whispered, “Can we go say goodbye?”

  “Your ma doesn’t want to take any chances you might get sick. She loves you too much to do that, but you can stand outside the wagon and talk to her that way.”

  Annie sniffled. “Okay.”

  “I want you girls to remember this is hard on your ma too. She doesn’t want to leave. Don’t let her think you won’t see her again, because you will see her when she’s better.”

  “Okay,” they answered together.

  Clint hugged them tighter, hoping he could live up to their faith in him. “I think you should tell your ma you will see her for Christmas.” Clint released them and bent down to look at their faces. “Stop the tears; we don’t want her to know you were crying. As a matter of fact, why don’t you tell me what you would buy your ma for Christmas . . . besides a husband . . . if you could?”

  The girls wiped away their tears. “You mean a real present, like we could get at the mercantile?” Annie asked.

  “Yes. What do you think she would like?”

  “Ma saw a pretty locket at the mercantile,” Katie told him.

  “A locket. Now that sounds like a fine present,” Clint responded.

  “But we don’t have money,” Annie countered.

  Clint smiled at her. “Remember, I told you about the magic of Christmas. You have to believe anything is possible. Tell your ma you will have her Christmas gift waiting for her.”

  “Do you think the gold we found would be enough to buy that locket?” Katie asked.

  “I think if you girls look for more gold while we are away, you might have enough by Christmas. But promise me that you will stay close to Mr. and Mrs. Nelson or Mr. Newcombe at all times.”

  “Yes, sir,” they replied.

  * * *

  When they reached the wagon, Clint opened the flap and peeked inside. “Amelia, the girls wanted to say goodbye. They are standing right by me.”

  “Oh, girls, I’m going to miss you.” Amelia was making an effort to sound cheerful.

  “We’re going to miss you too,” Annie whispered with trembling lips.

  “Mr. Mitchum says we will see you by Christmas,” Katie stated.

  Amelia was quiet for a moment, then replied, “We shall celebrate together. Mind Mrs. Nelson and always stay within her sight.”

  Clint heard Amelia’s voice cracking as she tried to hold her emotions in check.

  “Yes, ma’am, we will. We already promised Mr. Mitchum.”

  “Remember how much I love you,” Amelia told them.

  “We love you, Ma.”

  “And we’ll have your Christmas present waiting for you,” Katie remembered to say.

  Tears started falling over their cheeks, and Clint knew Amelia was also crying. “Amelia, we will be leaving soon.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Mitchum, I’ll be ready.”

  * * *

  Mrs. Nelson handed Clint a cup of coffee, along with a plate of biscuits and bacon. After he gulped his breakfast, Tom and Whitt helped him with the horses.

  “This is a fine thing you’re doing. Come back as soon as you can,” Whitt told him.

  Clint told Whitt about the gold he’d found. “It might be a good spot for you to try.”

  “I’ll pan there today.” Whitt shook Clint’s hand. “I wish you well.”

  “Keep a sharp eye out. Those men might come back.”

  “I will.”

  “We’ll sleep in shifts,” Tom Nelson told him.

  Bo and Boone ran to Clint before he reached the wagon.

  “You will come back, won’t you?” Boone asked.

  “Yep, I’ll be back.” Clint bent down and added, “Will you boys look after the girls for me?”

  “Yeah. Pa already told us that we have to take care of the ladies. We’ll look after them,” Bo promised.

  “I knew I could count on you.”

  Katie and Annie ran to him and hugged him goodbye one last time.

  Clint drove the wagon slowly, not wanting to cause Amelia more discomfort than she was already feeling. He stopped once every two hours to check on her and to make sure she had plenty to drink. Each time, he tried to persuade her to eat, but she refused food, and that worried him.

  “Mr. Mitchum, I’m sorry, but I don’t have an appetite. I’m afraid my headache is making me dizzy.”

  “I think you need to call me Clint. Does riding in the wagon make your headache worse?” Clint noticed the dark circles under her eyes.

  “I don’t think so. But Mr. Mitchum, I think you should stay outside the wagon instead of coming in here each time you stop.”

  Clint smiled at her as he held the back of her head, urging her to take another sip of water. “Yeah, you told me that the last time we stopped.”

  “I think you are a stubborn man, Mr. Mitchum.”

  “So I’ve been told. And my name is Clint.”

  Amelia closed her eyes. “Of course . . . Clint.”

  “We can stop for the day.”

  She shook her head from side to side. “No, let’s keep going.”

  “Okay, but let me know if you need to stop. Do you need more blankets?”

  “No, I’m fine. I know you are going slower for me, but I don’t mind if we go faster.”

  Clint thought she might be saying she needed to get to La Grange as fast as possible to see the doc. “Yes, ma’am.”

  * * *

  When Clint stopped for the night, he had a nice fire going before he carried Amelia from the wagon to a pallet he’d arranged close to the fire. He tried to hide his concern about her deteriorating condition throughout the day. “I thought you might be tired of being in that wagon.”

  “It’s nice to be outside, and the fire feels good.”

  Clint warmed some biscuits, and he was pleased when she ate two small bites. After she drank some water, she leaned back against Clint’s saddle, which he’d placed behind her and closed her eyes.

  Thinking she wanted to sleep, Clint poured himself another cup of coffee.

  “I want to thank you for doing this for me.”

  Glancing her way, Clint noticed her eyes were still closed. “My pleasure.” Again she was silent, and he sat quietly and drank his coffee. He was feeling a little more optimistic abo
ut her condition. Two cups of coffee later, he decided he’d check the animals one more time while she was resting.

  * * *

  He’d just placed his rifle down by his bedroll when Amelia mumbled something. He walked over and kneeled down beside her. The optimism he’d felt earlier about her condition quickly dissolved. She was shivering, and as soon as he touched her forehead, he knew her fever was much worse. After throwing another blanket over her, Clint added more logs to the fire and dampened a cloth to place on her forehead.

  “So cold,” Amelia muttered.

  Pulling his bedroll beside her pallet, he pulled her into his arms and covered them both with another blanket. After a few minutes, he was sweating, but she was no longer shaking. “Better?”

  “Better.” She snuggled close to him and buried her face in his chest.

  She finally fell asleep, but sleep evaded Clint. He spent the night watching over her, afraid he wouldn’t hear her if she needed him.

  * * *

  The next several nights were a repetition of the first night, with Amelia alternating between freezing and sweating. Clint was more discouraged because she absolutely refused to eat. He could barely get her to drink, and he felt somewhat guilty that he was forcing water down her. To make matters worse, the entire day Clint thought someone was following them. He hadn’t seen anyone, and it was difficult to see if he was being trailed while he was driving the wagon. Over the years he’d developed a sixth sense on the trail. This wasn’t a feeling he could ignore. When he stopped for the night, he carried his rifle with him as he cared for the horses and prepared their meal over the fire. If he’d been traveling alone, he would have forgone a fire tonight. That feeling he’d had all day about being followed remained with him, and he knew a fire could be spotted for miles.

  * * *

  Later that evening, Amelia’s fever seemed to be higher than before, and once it broke her clothing was drenched. He carried her inside the wagon and he’d just removed her dress when he heard the snap of a twig. Clint covered her with some blankets, grabbed his rifle, lifted the canvas and slid over the side of the wagon. Crouching low, he silently made his way to the trees. He’d intentionally arranged his bedroll to look like someone was sleeping in it because he was halfway expecting company. And he had a feeling he knew who the visitors would be.

  Just as he positioned himself where he could see the fire, he saw three men walk into the camp. As he expected, it was the same threesome he’d encountered in Honey Creek.

  “Look at what we have here.” The leader of the group had his pistol drawn, and he used the toe of his boot to kick Clint’s bedroll.

  Clint walked from the brush with his pistol pointed at the man. “Yeah, look here.”

  The man laughed and pointed his gun at Clint. “We know you and the little lady are traveling alone. Where is she?” His eyes darted to the wagon. He glanced at one of his men and inclined his head toward the wagon. “Check it out, Alvin.”

  “If Alvin takes another step, I’ll shoot you,” Clint stated resolutely to the man who was giving the orders.

  “If you shoot me, my boys will still have a fine time when we’re dead.”

  When Alvin took another step, Clint and the leader fired their weapons at the same time. The stranger’s gun hit the ground and he dropped to his knees grasping his hand. Clint had shot his gun hand, but the man’s bullet had grazed Clint in the side.

  “Take him, Marv,” the leader on the ground commanded as he clutched his hand.

  Suddenly a blast came from the wagon. Alvin stumbled backward, hopped around on one foot and screamed, “My foot! My foot! Someone shot my foot!”

  Marv was so busy watching Alvin hop around like a fool that he didn’t see Clint move until he felt his pistol at his temple.

  Clint pulled the hammer back. “Unless you want to end up missing an important body part like your friend on the ground, you’ll ride out and not come back.”

  Alvin and Marv stuck their hands in the air as Clint took their weapons, tucking them in his gun belt.

  “Now grab your boss and ride out. If I see any of you again it won’t bode well for you.”

  When the men were out of sight, Clint hurried back to the wagon. He found Amelia lying on top of the blankets with the pistol he’d given her gripped in her hands. “Amelia?”

  “I heard them,” she replied, her voice sounding stronger than it had in the last couple of days.

  “I thought you were unconscious.” Clint reached over and felt her forehead. She was much cooler than she had been before their unwanted guests had arrived.

  “At first I thought I was dreaming. Then I recognized that man’s voice. I remembered your pistol was under my blankets.”

  “That was one heck of a shot.”

  “I was aiming at a button on his shirt,” she replied weakly.

  Clint couldn’t help but let out a hearty laugh. It felt good to laugh, and seeing Amelia smile up at him lifted his spirits.

  “I told you my pa taught me how to shoot. I didn’t say I was a good shot.”

  Clint shook his head, but he was still smiling. “I hope you never shoot at me,” he teased as he took the gun from her hands. He reached for a clean dress and said, “Let’s get you dressed.”

  Amelia looked down and saw that she was dressed in only her camisole and bloomers. “Oh my! Where’s my dress?”

  Clint held it in the air. “Right here. Now we just have to put you in it.”

  She wondered how many times he’d undressed her. “What day is it?”

  When Clint told her the day, she was surprised she could hardly remember what had happened since they’d left Honey Creek. “Thank you for taking care of me. I know I’ve slowed you down.”

  “We’ve made pretty good time. It didn’t seem to bother you how fast I drove.” Clint helped her pull her dress over her head.

  Amelia gazed at his large hands as he buttoned the bodice, thinking he had a gentle touch for such a large man. “I thought Mrs. Nelson was going to faint when you said . . .”

  Clint knew what was on her mind. He waited for her to finish her thought, and when she didn’t, he said, “That I’d seen a woman’s body before.”

  “Mmm-hmm. You’re very good at this, Mr. Mitchum. I didn’t know you were married.”

  “I’m not, never have been.” Clint wondered if she would remember this conversation in the morning.

  She didn’t respond for the longest time, and he realized she had fallen asleep again.

  Chapter 7

  Clint lay down beside Amelia, intending just to rest a moment. He was so exhausted that he didn’t think he had the strength to carry her to the fire. His side was hurting where the bullet had grazed him, and he knew he needed to see to it before it became infected. He looked at Amelia; she seemed to be resting peacefully, so he closed his eyes for a moment.

  “You were shot!” Amelia exclaimed. She had awakened to see Clint lying beside her with blood on his shirt.

  Clint’s eyes snapped open. He jumped up from Amelia’s cot, and pain shot through his side, causing him to look down at his blood-soaked shirt. “It’s just a graze.”

  “That’s a lot of blood for a graze.” Amelia moved to a sitting position. “We need to see to it.”

  “I’ll take care of it. Do you want to go out by the fire?”

  “I don’t want you to carry me, I can make it,” Amelia told him.

  Jumping out of the wagon first, Clint held up his hands to assist her. When she leaned over, he picked her up in his arms and carried her to the fire.

  “You shouldn’t be carrying me.”

  “It’s not that far to the fire and you don’t weigh much.”

  “But you’re injured,” Amelia countered.

  “It’s nothing but a scratch.”

  When Clint lowered her on the pallet, she instructed him to remove his shirt.

  Clint smiled at her authoritative tone. “Yes, ma’am.”

  When Clint stripped of
f his shirt, Amelia found herself staring as his muscled chest.

  When she continued to stare, Clint asked, “What’s wrong?”

  Amelia shook her head. “Nothing. Would you boil some water?”

  Clint poured fresh water in a pan and placed it over the fire. While he waited for the water to boil, he pulled his bandanna from his pocket and dabbed at his wound.

  “Do you have some clean bandannas? If not, I can tear some cloth from one of my petticoats.” She glanced down at her dress and lifted the hem. “Oh, I’m not wearing one right now.”

  Clint arched his brow at her and grinned. “They’re too much trouble to put on and take off.”

  Amelia felt a blush rising over her cheeks. “You seem to have intimate knowledge of women’s clothing.”

  Clint chuckled. He pulled out another clean bandanna from his saddlebag, dipped it in the boiling water and then started to clean his wound.

  “Let me do that.” Amelia’s eyes met his as she held out her hand for the bandanna. “It’s the least I can do after all you’ve done for me.”

  Clint relinquished the cloth to her, raised his arm and leaned to one side, allowing her to easily reach his wound. As soon as she braced her free hand on his chest and applied the cloth to his bleeding wound, Clint sucked in his breath. He wasn’t certain if it was because the cloth was hot or the mere fact that her soft hand was resting on his chest.

  Pulling back, Amelia glanced up at him. “Did I hurt you?”

  Clint shook his head, but his eyes were on her hand. He needed to think about something else, so he asked, “Do you think you can eat something tonight?”

  “I’ll try.” After she finished cleaning the wound, Amelia asked him to retrieve one of her petticoats from the wagon. She watched him walk away, admiring his wide-muscled shoulders. When he returned with the petticoat, she asked him to tear off a strip of cloth to wrap around his torso.

  “I don’t think it is necessary for you to ruin your petticoat,” Clint told her.

  “We don’t want that wound to get infected. I can repair the petticoat.” After he tore the strip of cloth, she helped him wrap it around his waist. Once the task was completed, she leaned back on her pallet, exhausted from that little effort. Within minutes she was sound asleep.