Longing for a Cowboy Christmas

by Leigh Greenwood

  “I’m hungry already, but for now I’ll take the venison stew. Cold weather brings out a man’s appetite.”

  “Then come to the table, and I’ll fix you a big bowl of stew and slice some fresh bread.”

  They walked to the kitchen end of the great room, and Maggie took a heavy china bowl from the cupboard and a dipper from a hook at the side of the fireplace hearth. She swung the chimney crane toward her and dipped some stew into the bowl.

  “Still refusing to use the coal stove, I see,” Sage teased.

  Maggie set the bowl of stew in front of him. “I’ll use the coal stove Christmas Eve and Christmas Day because of all the cooking Rosa and I will be doing.”

  “Just don’t overdo it. The men will understand if you can’t fix an entire dinner. Turkey and pie will please them just fine.”

  “I’ll be careful.” Maggie turned to spoon some stew into a bowl for herself, then hesitated when a deep, gnawing pain gripped her abdomen. No! she thought. It can’t be! She paused, waiting for the pain to go away, then turned and sat down with the bowl of stew. She reached out to grasp a loaf of bread and was starting to slice a piece for Sage when it hit her again. She couldn’t help wincing and letting out a little gasp from the deep pain, unable to hide it from Sage.

  Sage set down his spoon. “Maggie? What is it?”

  “I think just some kind of indigestion.” She picked up her spoon. “Eat your stew.”

  “Don’t lie to me. Was that a contraction?”

  “No. That would be impossible this soon.”

  The pain came again, and she dropped her spoon into the bowl and grasped her belly. “No!”

  “Shit!” Sage got up from his chair and walked around to hers. “Please don’t tell me the baby is coming.”

  “I don’t… Maybe…” Another pain hit her then. “It can’t be!” she said before bending over a little. “Sage, it’s too soon! Oh God! Too soon! The baby will die!”

  Sage quickly picked her up. “I’m taking you to the bedroom, and I’ll go get Rosa.”

  “Sage, it can’t be the baby yet! I can’t be more than seven months along!”

  “I damn well know that! And I planned on having a doctor here for this!” He carried her down the hallway and laid her on their bed. “Hang on, Maggie girl. I’ll get Rosa!”

  “No! Stay with me!”

  “Maggie, this isn’t something I can do. You need Rosa. I’ll be back as fast as I can get here!”

  “Use the ropes, Sage! Use the ropes! Don’t get lost out there!”

  “I won’t,” he called out as he hurried down the hallway. “Stay in that bed!”

  Maggie heard him shuffling around to get his boots and coat back on, heard the door open and slam shut, then lay there listening to the howling wind outside. “God, not now!” she groaned. The day after tomorrow would be Christmas. Would Sage spend it trying to figure out how to bury their baby in the cold, frozen ground?

  Another gripping pain clawed at her insides. There was no doubt about it. This baby was coming, early or not. And it couldn’t possibly survive.

  Eleven

  Sage paced…and paced. He smoked one cigarette after another.

  “Somehow this will work out, Sage.” Joe Cable sat at the kitchen table drinking coffee, grimacing when another scream came from the bedroom.

  “I don’t see how,” Sage lamented. He sat down in his big, leather chair, running a hand through his hair. “The baby is too early, and if there are other complications, I could lose Maggie and the baby both. I don’t think Rosa will know what to do. Maggie needs a doctor!” He put his head in his hands. “Jesus, Joe, what will I do if this goes bad? Maggie is the best thing that ever happened to me.” He looked at Joe, unable to hide the tears in his eyes. “God wouldn’t punish a woman like Maggie, would He?”

  Joe rose to pour himself yet another cup of coffee. “Punish her for what?” He stoked the fire under another hanging pot of hot water in case Rosa might need more.

  “I don’t know. I mean, she couldn’t help what happened to her. That damn bitch who came here with that preacher tried to say what happened to her was a sin, even on Maggie’s part. That preacher said the baby is cursed.”

  “That’s just that sonofabitch runnin’ off at the mouth, and you know it. Jesus, Sage, you aren’t a man to listen to that kind of horseshit. Neither one of us knows much about God and religion and all that, but I think I know enough that God would never cause bad things to happen to somebody like Maggie, and He would never see what happened to her as a sin. Ain’t a man on this place who would see it that way.”

  Another scream, followed almost immediately by yet another. Maggie’s labor had been going on for twelve hours—since supper last night. Sage’s now-cold and uneaten bowl of stew still sat on the table. Outside, the wind howled.

  “Maggie said her first birth went fine,” Sage told Joe. “She didn’t think she’d have any problems.” He rose and started pacing again. “Goddamn weather!” he grumbled. “There isn’t a man on this ranch who wouldn’t be risking his life going after the doctor in this shit. It’s impossible to get through to Cheyenne.” He walked to a front window, unable to even see any of the outbuildings because of blowing snow. “There must be drifts six feet deep out there. God only knows how many cattle we’ll lose on top of everything else.” He ran a hand over his eyes. “I don’t even care. I’d give all of them up if it meant saving that baby.”

  Joe nodded. “I’m with you there. You want some coffee, Sage?”

  Sage shook his head. “No. I just want this to be over with.”

  Joe sat back down and lit a cigarette. “Ain’t it a bitch? All the men on this ranch who are able to chase down wild horses and hog-tie a damn bull…ram a brand on a cow’s rump, break a buckin’ bronc, and yes, even help deliver calves that are turned around wrong, shoot wild game, wrestle with barbed wire, live outside in the worst weather—you name it, we’ve all done it. But ain’t none of us knows what to do about a woman givin’ birth or about a tiny little baby that ain’t full growed. I’ve never felt so damn helpless in my life.”

  “Neither have I.” Sage turned from the window. “I’ve shot men down and rustled cattle. When I was a kid, I was wounded at Sand Creek, one of the worst massacres of Indians in history—lived through that—got kicked out on my own in my teens, ran with the worst of them on the Outlaw Trail, outlaws and whores alike. I never dreamed I’d have a ranch like this someday…or care about a woman like I do now.”

  Another scream.

  Sage closed his eyes. “Jesus. I’m sure Rosa knows about giving birth, but I doubt she knows what to do with a premature baby.”

  “You already said that, Sage. Rosa is a good woman, and she’s had four kids, two of them still little, so she fresh understands what Maggie is goin’ through, and you know she’ll do all she can.”

  Sage sighed deeply, pacing again. “I know that, but she only knows about births that go right. When I took Rosa more towels a few hours ago, the ones she handed me were so damn bloody, it scared the hell out of me. Maggie could bleed to death. Anything could happen!”

  “And you have to stop imagining the worst, Sage. Maggie is little, but she’s a real strong woman.”

  Sage sat down and put his head in his hands again. “I’m not sure she’s strong enough to have to bury another child. That would take all the spirit out of her.”

  Things seemed to grow quiet then…too quiet. Sage raised his head and looked at Joe. The two men exchanged what they knew was the same thought. Had Sage lost both his wife and the baby?

  They finally heard a baby’s cry—a surprisingly strong one. Sage jumped up from the chair and walked down the hallway. “Rosa?”

  “Un momento, señor,” the woman shouted from the bedroom.

  There came several long, agonizing minutes of waiting. Sage could hear the women’s muffl
ed voices, but he couldn’t make out what they were saying. The baby continued crying at the top of its lungs.

  Sage looked at Joe, who’d followed him to the door. “That doesn’t sound like any premature baby, does it?” Sage asked. “I mean, shouldn’t it be kind of a weak cry? It’s two months early. That little kid shouldn’t even be alive.”

  Joe grinned. “One thing is sure. That ain’t no ailin’ baby, Sage. Soon as you find out what’s goin’ on in there, let me know and I’ll go out to the bunkhouse and give the men the news.”

  “Just be sure to hang on to the guide rope. I don’t want to lose my best man.”

  “You won’t.” Joe grinned wider. “And I won’t tell the rest of the men you called me your best man. I don’t want to get in no fist fight once I get over there.”

  The two men shared a grin, but then Sage sobered, looking toward the door again. “Rosa! What’s going on? I hear the baby, but is Maggie all right?”

  “She is fine, señor. I need a little more time. Joe can go tell the men that the baby and the mother are both well. We just need a few more minutes.”

  Sage looked at Joe again, frowning. “I can’t believe it.”

  “Well, whatever happened in there, it sounds like everything is okay.” Joe put out his hand. “Congratulations, Boss.”

  They shook hands, and Joe headed down the hallway, leaving a stunned Sage waiting at the bedroom door. Joe suddenly stopped and looked back. “Jesus, Sage, ask Rosa what she had. Is it a boy, or a girl?”

  Sage glanced at the bedroom door. “I’m so surprised by the sound of that crying that I didn’t even think to ask.” He ran a hand through his hair again and then knocked on the door. “Rosa! What is it? Boy or girl?” He actually heard light laughter from both women.

  “It is a boy, señor,” Rosa answered. “And wait until you see him!”

  Sage glanced at Joe.

  “I heard,” Joe told him. “I’ll go tell the men.” He walked into the great room to put on his boots and coat.

  Sage heard more groans from the bedroom. “Rosa, what’s wrong? Can I come in? I’m going crazy out here.”

  “Just a few more minutes. I have to make sure to get all the afterbirth so there is no infection, señor. Be patient.”

  Sage heard the front door close as Joe left, and suddenly he felt more alone than he ever had in his life. He sighed and paced up and down the hallway until finally the bedroom door opened and Rosa came out carrying a basket full of bloody towels. “She is all cleaned up now, señor. You can see Maggie and the baby.” She actually giggled. “You will be surprised!” She hurried past him, and Sage stood there a moment, not sure what to expect.

  “Sage, you can come in now,” Maggie called from the bedroom.

  Not sure what to expect because of Rosa’s remark, Sage hurried inside. Maggie lay there with her tumble of red hair spread out on the pillow. She looked pale and tired, her hair damp, circles under her eyes…and small… She looked so small. But she was smiling…a bigger smile than he’d ever seen on her face.

  “Come and look!” she told him.

  Sage walked closer, cautiously peering at the newborn boy as Maggie pulled a blanket away from him. The child’s fists flailed in the air, looking whole and strong. His crying finally turned to tiny squeals, and Sage thought he looked much too big to be premature.

  “Sage, you have a son,” Maggie told him. “A fully matured baby boy, strong as any!”

  Frowning, Sage just stood there staring.

  “Sage, it’s okay. The baby is fine…and I’m fine.”

  Sage shook his head. “I…don’t understand.” He grabbed a wooden chair from nearby and set it beside the bed.

  Maggie moved the baby slightly and pulled the blanket farther off the boy so Sage could see everything was there—fingers and toes, tender, still-red skin. “Rosa and I need to wash him off better,” she told Sage. “Rosa is preparing a fresh pan of hot water and a clean washrag for that.”

  Sage leaned closer, reaching out to gently stroke the baby’s thick, black hair. “I still don’t understand, Maggie. He’s so big.”

  “I know!” Maggie leaned close to kiss the baby’s cheek. “Sage, he’s a full-term baby!”

  Sage frowned. “But when you first realized you were carrying, you said—”

  “I know, Sage. I said that because of the hard journey, James and I were both too tired to be intimate. But when I saw my baby, I realized he had to be full-term. And then I remembered…you know…about two months before the night those men attacked us, James and I did have relations. I remember because I didn’t feel well, but James was… He’d been drinking. After that, I had my time of month, lighter than usual but still there, so I thought it meant I couldn’t possibly be carrying when those men attacked me.” She reached out and touched Sage’s hand.

  “I guess I don’t know my own body as good as I thought. Apparently, I got fooled. I must have already been carrying when those men came along. How I managed to hang on to the baby through all that—and then all that happened after that when you found me, and we went after those men—I’ll never know.” Maggie couldn’t help her tears of joy as she kissed her baby’s head. “To me, it’s a Christmas miracle, Sage. That’s the only explanation for why he’s so big and strong, like James. Now that awful woman can’t come along and try to take him away.”

  Sage touched the baby’s fist as Maggie covered him again. “I would never have let that happen, Maggie.” The child grabbed hold of Sage’s finger and hung on tight. “He’s strong. That’s for sure.”

  Maggie smiled, her whole face lighting up. “God has given us a real miracle, Sage. Tomorrow is Christmas, and look at the wonderful Christmas present He has given us!” Maggie kissed the baby again. “He’s so beautiful and perfect. And I’m so happy, for both of us.” She grasped Sage’s hand. “I want to name him James, if that’s all right with you. James Tucker Lightfoot.”

  Sage nodded. “That’s fine with me. It’s only right to name him after the man who fathered him. I’m glad you’re my wife now, but it’s too bad your husband never lived to know he had a son.”

  “I think he does know. He wasn’t the greatest husband, but he wasn’t a bad man, either, Sage. I think he’s in heaven, and he knows about his son.”

  Sage nodded. “I hope you’re right.” He moved to sit on the edge of the bed, leaning over mother and baby. “I’m feeling proud but a little intimidated,” he told Maggie. “I’m actually a father now.”

  “And you’ll be the best father this little guy could ask for. I know you will, Sage. And we’ll have more—lots more—enough ranch hands that you won’t even have to hire extra help.”

  “Whoa! Slow down there, woman.” Sage studied her tired eyes and pushed more of her damp hair away from her face. “Let’s not move too fast. I want you strong and healthy before you go through this again. And I’m going to see about bringing in another woman to help you for a while. Rosa has a husband and family of her own to tend to.”

  “I can manage.”

  “No, ma’am. I won’t allow you to do too much. I intend to spoil you rotten. You deserve it.” He leaned close and kissed her lightly. “You sure you’re all right? Don’t lie to me about anything, Maggie. I couldn’t bear to lose you now.”

  “I’m okay. Just a little weak. And I’m hungry. Have Rosa heat up that stew neither one of us got to eat.” She moved away from the baby a little more. “Here. You hold him.”

  Sage shook his head. “I wouldn’t know how.”

  “Then get used to it, Sage Lightfoot. Hold your son.”

  Sage smiled and gently moved his hands under the baby. He deftly lifted the boy, holding him in his lap for a moment. The baby kicked, and his mouth turned into a little o as he stared at the big man holding him.

  “Merry Christmas,” Maggie told him.

  Sage smiled and laid
the boy back beside his mother. He studied Maggie for a moment, smiling. “And Merry Christmas to you. I love you, Maggie.”

  “And I love you.” She put a hand on his arm. “Things will be good now. These heavy winter snows will mean thick, tall spring grass and swollen streams—plenty of water. You and the men can get new barns built, and little James will grow and get stronger. We’re going to have a good life here, Sage. I’m the happiest I’ve been in my whole life. What woman could ask for more than a healthy son, a handsome, loving husband, and to live on the most beautiful piece of property in Wyoming? Tomorrow is Christmas…Christmas in Paradise!”

  Sage put a big hand to the side of her face and kissed her again. “You’re my paradise, Maggie. Coming across you out on the plains last spring was the best thing that ever happened to me.” He stood up and moved around to the other side of the bed, then carefully lay down beside her, pulling both Maggie and the baby into his arms.

  Outside, the wind continued to howl and moan over Paradise Valley. Tomorrow was Christmas. It would most certainly be a white one. More than that, it would be their first together.

  In spite of the howling blizzard winds, they could hear the faint sound of shouts of celebration coming from the bunkhouse. James Lightfoot had finally arrived, and he wasn’t just Sage and Maggie’s son. He belonged to Paradise Valley, and to every man who helped run it.

  About the Author

  Award-winning novelist Rosanne Bittner is highly acclaimed for her thrilling love stories and historical authenticity. Her epic romances span the West—from Canada to Mexico, Missouri to California—and are often based on personal visits to each setting. She lives in Michigan with her husband, Larry, and near her two sons, Brock and Brian, and three grandsons, Brennan, Connor, and Blake. You can learn much more about Rosanne and her books through her website at rosannebittner.com and her blog at rosannebittner.blogspot.com. Be sure to visit Rosanne on Facebook and Twitter!