A Cowboy for Christmas (Mills & Boon Love Inspired Historical) (Wyoming Legacy - Book 5)

by Lacy Williams

  She sniffled again, and he racked his brain trying to think of something to get her mind off what had happened inside.

  Before he could distract her, boisterous male voices called out from close—too close.

  “Ace, that you?”

  “Lookey-look, it is Ace.”

  He recognized the two loudmouthed cowboys vaguely from when he’d visited the saloon those first days in Pattonville. And being around them was the last thing he wanted, especially with Daisy in the wagon. They were walking down the middle of the street and she was somewhat behind him, tucked inside the wagon box. Maybe they wouldn’t even see her there.

  “My name’s Ricky,” he said quietly. “Maybe you’ve got the wrong cowboy.”

  “Nooo...you’re definitely Ace,” one of them said. His words were slightly slurred.

  Great. They’d obviously been to the saloon and were deep in their cups.

  And it sounded as if they’d been there the night of Daisy’s accident. Another cowboy had accused Ricky of cheating at cards, and since Ricky had been full of alcohol and hubris, it hadn’t been hard to rile him into losing his temper.

  “This the guy that Duke thought was cheating?”

  He really didn’t want to talk about that night. He’d promised himself he was going to tell Daisy the next time he had the opportunity, but he didn’t want to do it now, when she was already upset.

  “For the record, I wasn’t cheating then and I’m not interested in any card game tonight,” he said. Or ever again.

  Two against one wasn’t a fair fight and he prayed they’d just keep walking, go on their way. But then one of them crossed close, and someone opened the front door to the café, letting light spill out, right onto Ricky.

  One of the drunken cowboys wobbled closer to Ricky, now only a few feet away. Ricky could smell the liquor on him, even from here.

  “Wait a minute,” he slurred. “This’s the man that was kissing Judy when you was on the range that weekend coupla months ago.”

  He didn’t know who Judy was, but he’d kissed a couple of gals in Pattonville before he’d reformed.

  The other cowboy bristled and Ricky got the sense that maybe Judy was his girl.

  “I don’t know any Judy,” Ricky said.

  He held both hands up in front of himself. And then the worst thing that could happen, happened.

  “Why don’t you leave us alone?” Daisy demanded.

  He felt as if he’d been punched in the gut.

  He looked over his shoulder to see she’d risen up on her knees in the wagon box. It put her up higher than the three of them, but now it made her a target.

  “Whoohee,” the closer, louder cowboy said. “Ace’s got hisself a gal out here.”

  His friend didn’t comment, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t spoiling for a fight, not after the nearer one’s comment about Judy, whoever she was.

  “Hop out the other side, and go inside,” he told Daisy, hoping against hope she would listen.

  “I won’t.”

  Woman! He experienced a moment of intense fear. He wanted to swear, but he bit back the word. He didn’t do that anymore. Didn’t mean he wasn’t angry that she was putting herself in danger.

  “Whatchu been doing out here in the dark?” the obnoxious cowboy asked.

  “I’ll ask you kindly to move along,” Ricky said.

  “Aw, don’t be like that,” the loud cowboy said.

  And then Ricky realized the other cowboy had sidled up behind him. He wasn’t ready for the punch when it came, not in the dark and from an unexpected direction.

  The hit rang his bell, clocking him in the cheek and sending him spinning, knocking his shoulder hard against the front of the wagon. The horses shifted in their traces, agitated by the movement from behind them.

  Daisy screamed, the shrill sound making his head feel as if it was cracking open. His cheek ached, and something warm trickled down the corner of his eye. He wasn’t crying, so it must be blood.

  Ricky heard the obnoxious cowboy’s voice cajoling, “C’mon, missy, we’re just having a little fun—”

  “Get away from her,” he growled, pushing away from the wagon and trying to spin at the same time.

  The silent cowboy met him with an uppercut to the gut that raised Ricky’s feet off the ground by at least an inch and doubled him over in excruciating pain.

  Light spilled out of the café. Voices rose, questioning.

  He barely held on to the coffee he’d drunk at the social minutes ago. Nausea swirled, or was that his head?

  “Judy is mine,” the quiet cowboy said, voice low and deadly.

  I don’t even know a Judy. He tried, but the words wouldn’t come out.

  Then the cowboy was gone as the crowd from inside spilled out into the street. Daisy was there at his elbow, asking him if he was okay and if she should get the sheriff.

  “No,” he managed in a hoarse groan. He couldn’t risk the sheriff disclosing his identity. The man had been there the night of Daisy’s accident, and although it had been ruled an accident, Ricky had taken the blame on himself. Assigned his own punishment.

  Ricky tried to stand up straight, but his insides protested and he wrapped one arm around his midsection.

  Beau came running up, panting and shoving his arms into his coat. “What happened?”

  The whole night had been ruined. For both Daisy and Ricky.

  That’s what.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The next morning, Ricky stood just inside the door of the boss’s office, facing Owen and Ned. The boss sat behind the desk with his hands steepled in front of him.

  Ned stood behind the corner of the desk, glowering at Ricky. He’d taken one look at Ricky’s mug in the morning light and told him to meet up in the boss’s office after morning chores. Ricky wore a visible shiner and a scrape on his cheek. Both stung.

  And his ribs ached from the punch to the gut he’d taken.

  Right now, he wished he was anywhere but here.

  Ricky still simmered with temper even after spending a restless night in his bunk. He and Beau had delivered Daisy and Belinda to their doorstep after a silent, cold ride home where the men had shared the wagon seat and the women had curled up beneath blankets in the back.

  He’d only said a cursory good-night to her. No explanations, though she had to be bursting with curiosity. He needed to talk to her.

  But now this.

  The fire crackled in the hearth. It should’ve been homey, welcoming, but the two men glowering across the desk at Ricky made it anything but.

  “Wanna explain what happened last night?” Owen asked. “Why you’re so banged up?”

  “Daisy and I were outside, when a coupla cowboys came walking down from the saloon and picked a fight.”

  “What were you doing outside?” The outright suspicion in Ned’s voice was like flint on steel to Ricky’s bruised temper today.

  “Daisy got upset about being inside with all those people.” It had been more than that. Something had happened while she’d been holding the baby. He’d seen enough to know that. But that was her business. If she wanted to talk to her pa, she would.

  The boss’s eyes narrowed on him, and Ricky felt like squirming, felt as if he’d been called up in front of the teacher. He didn’t. He stood stock-still, his hat held loosely against his thigh.

  “I was a little surprised she said she wanted to go with her sister,” Daisy’s father said. He looked at Ricky as if maybe Ricky had had something to do with that.

  Ricky didn’t say anything about how she’d invited him to the social. He didn’t answer at all.

  He wasn’t entirely sure why he was staying in this office anyway. Times past, he’d have walked off the job the moment they questioned him. He didn’t do well with authority. But this was Daisy’s pa. And for some reason he wanted to make a good impression on the man.

  As if that was happening with his bruised face. He stiffened his shoulders as the thought crossed his
mind.

  “I’d like to know what your intentions are toward my daughter,” Owen said. The man should play poker. He wasn’t revealing anything with his expression.

  Ricky hesitated. It was true he’d never faced a woman’s pa before—never even thought about it. It had never mattered before. But his feelings for Daisy were too strong to deny. “I care about her.”

  A glance passed between the two brothers. Ricky had been able to do the same with Davy before he’d left home, share a message without needing words.

  “You ain’t good enough to lick the dust off her boots,” Ned said gruffly.

  He knew that. He did. But it stung, coming from the man who had seen him working long hours at hard labor for the ranch these past months. He didn’t know if Ned held his reputation against him, or if the dislike that had grown stronger lately was simply a clash of two similar personalities.

  “I didn’t ask those drunk cowpokes to come talk to me.”

  “Naw, but yer reputation around these parts sure did,” Ned growled.

  It was true, but... “I don’t do those things anymore. Don’t visit the saloons, don’t sweet-talk women. I’m not the same person I was before—” Before Daisy’s accident.

  Ricky saw the recognition of what he didn’t say in Owen’s face.

  “A few months don’t prove nuthin’,” Ned said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Man could decide he was having more fun the way things was before and go right back to that kind of life” Ned turned to his brother. “That the kind of man you want for your daughter?”

  “Ned.” The boss’s quiet word was also a command, and Ned went silent.

  But Ricky stood panting, riled, ready to slug Ned for the hurtful words. Maybe more hurtful because they were true, and Ricky knew it.

  “You didn’t really answer my question earlier. What are your intentions toward Daisy?” Owen repeated.

  Ricky faced off with the man who had the power to change his future.

  “I’d like permission to court her.”

  His face flamed at the admission. He’d never asked permission to come courting, for anyone. He’d never respected or cared about a woman enough to do it.

  He swallowed hard, holding more words back with his back teeth clamped together. Words to try and explain just how strongly he felt about Daisy, how much he admired her strength and spirit. Promises about how he’d treat her and how he’d never go back to that way of life.

  “I don’t like that you got mixed up in a fight last night,” Owen said. “I don’t want my daughter around that kind of riffraff.”

  “I didn’t fight back,” Ricky said, a little desperately. It was true, he hadn’t fought back, but he would’ve if those two hooligans had threatened Daisy any more than they had, or if the rest of the crowd hadn’t spilled outside.

  The boss stared at him, and Ricky had never felt more judged in his life. How had it come to this? Wanting this one man’s approval more than just about anything?

  He felt nauseous, knowing he didn’t deserve approval. His past might not shackle him anymore, he was free to be the man God had created him to be.

  But that didn’t mean that others could see past who he had been.

  And Daisy didn’t even know all of it. She might not want him when she did. There was a good chance of it.

  He met Owen’s gaze, trying to show the new man he was when his temper still simmered and he stood here under their judgment.

  Finally, Owen shook his head.

  Ricky’s heart plummeted down to his toes.

  “I’m sorry, son.”

  His chest cinched tight as Owen looked straight at him.

  “I’m just not sure that’s the best thing for Daisy. She’s...sensitive.”

  Because of her arm. He knew.

  “And I don’t want her to get hurt.”

  Numb, Ricky nodded. He wanted to argue, wanted to plead his case, but Owen knew about his part in Daisy’s accident. He’d allowed Ricky to work on the ranch with intentions of making reparations, if possible. And look what Ricky had done. On their first trip to town together, he’d gotten into a scrape.

  Maybe the boss was right.

  He wasn’t good enough for Daisy.

  He let himself out of the office and she was there, in the hall. Had she overheard what he’d said? What her father had said to him?

  The back of his neck burned like an inferno. He couldn’t face her, not now.

  “’Scuse me, miss.”

  He nodded, stuffed his hat onto his head and scooted past her, almost running for the barn.

  Beau was out checking the flock. Even if he’d been here, Ricky didn’t know if he could talk to the other man. Although Beau had been his sounding board before, Ricky just really wanted to punch something, or someone. The aggression, the anger, wasn’t new to him.

  But trying to tame it was.

  This was the hardest thing he’d had to face since he’d accepted Christ those months ago.

  Getting hit by those drunken cowboys hadn’t been anything.

  This was painful. Wanting Daisy and not being able to have her.

  The woodpile. Maybe he could work out some of his pent-up frustration there.

  He hurried outside, grabbing the ax and going after several chunks of wood. The ax made a satisfying thunk every time he sliced through a log, and the physical exertion loosened his shoulders a little.

  But it wasn’t helping, not really. The cold air against his heated skin did little to cool him off.

  Because nothing could help him.

  He grabbed two chunks this time, balanced them on the stump. Hit harder.

  Wiped his forehead with his sleeve.

  Harder.

  Not good enough.

  He’d deserved that punch. Deserved more.

  Harder.

  He would never deserve her.

  *

  Daisy watched out the window where she’d stopped as Ricky had slammed out of the house.

  Behind her, she could hear her father’s and Ned’s raised voices in Papa’s office, though neither had emerged yet.

  On her way upstairs after breakfast, Belinda had whispered that Ricky was inside talking to Papa, and Daisy hadn’t been able to contain the leap of joy her heart had taken.

  Was he asking permission to court? After what had happened last night?

  She could hardly believe it.

  Everyone in the café had witnessed her ineptitude at holding baby Ruth, even for a few minutes.

  If she couldn’t even hold an infant successfully, how was she to feed it? Diaper it? Give it a bath?

  She closed her eyes against the panorama of the empty barnyard, closed her eyes against the hurt.

  How could she be a mother, if she couldn’t do the simplest things for her baby?

  And everyone knew that courting could lead to marriage, which led to children.

  How could Ricky be asking such a thing after how she’d embarrassed herself, and the realization it had led to?

  He’d been upset when he’d stalked past her and gone outside. He’d called her miss, not Daisy. She’d watched from the kitchen window as he had disappeared into the barn.

  Maybe he hadn’t gone in to talk to Papa about courting her. Maybe it was something else, something to do with the cowboys he’d run into. Her humiliation on one hand and curiosity on the other had kept her from falling asleep for far too long last night.

  She opened her eyes and saw Ricky emerging from the barn. Her heart leaped in anticipation, expectation. Maybe he’d just gone inside to clean up or retrieve something.

  But he didn’t come back up to the house, only went to the woodpile and began chopping, heaving the ax with such emotion, such disregard for his own safety. She was a little afraid he was going to miss the block and chop his leg off.

  Something was wrong.

  And she expected she knew what it was.

  She wanted to go upstairs and hide in her room, but hadn’t she been learning that
she couldn’t curl up and die because of her limitations? If she still intended to take over the ranch—and she did—and if Ricky still worked here, then they would see each other around.

  She should face him now and prove that she could do it.

  He was still chopping viciously as she stepped out onto the back porch, though he stopped as she descended the stairs. The bright morning sun mocked her.

  His back was to her, and he must not have seen her. Wood chips littered the ground around him, evidence of the fury he’d attacked the job with.

  He wiped his brow with his shirtsleeve and the slump of his shoulders told her what she needed to know. This wasn’t easy for him, either.

  “Ricky?” she asked.

  He whirled so fast, it was a good thing the ax was still in the stump or she might’ve been hurt.

  He glanced over her shoulder to the house. “Help you with something, Miss Daisy?”

  She bit her lip against the proper name. He’d called her Daisy for weeks before this. His cheek beneath his eye was purple and swollen, and she wanted to ask about his injuries but didn’t dare.

  She steeled herself as much as she could, propping her hand on her hip and raising her chin. “I’d like to talk for a minute.”

  He eyed the house behind her again and she turned, thinking to see someone standing on the porch or at the window, but there was nothing.

  She turned back to him. “Did you ask my father if you could come courting?”

  Her face flamed. She hadn’t meant to blurt it out like that. But then, she was who she was. No hiding, not now.

  “Yes,” he said flatly. “He said no.”

  Everything around her went white, as if her eyesight had gone crazy. Her extremities tingled.

  She inhaled sharply, and all the colors rushed back, almost painfully.

  “Did you—” Her voice trembled and she worked to steady it. “Did you press your case?”

  “No.” Again, his voice was flat, dead. Like a slap to her face.

  It jarred her out of her stillness. “I see.”

  After last night, she should’ve known. She’d embarrassed herself, embarrassed them both. She could’ve injured Ethel’s baby.