Kiss of The Christmas Wind

by Janelle Taylor

  “Sawyer and Reeves?” she repeated, her voice shaky, her eyes wide, and her face ashen. Tremors swept over her body.

  “I see you’ve heard of them. John said the marshal recognized their names and descriptions. I’m a law-abiding man, Carrie Sue, but I hope he kills them instead of bringing them in for trial. Outlaws don’t deserve to live. They go around robbing and terrorizing innocent folk. We all worked hard for that money; Thad has to get it back.”

  “I’m sure he will, Tom.” Carrie Sue rose and said, “I best be going.”

  Martha entered the room during their conversation. “What about your coffee, Carrie Sue? It’ll be perked soon.”

  The redhead winked at the woman and said, “I don’t think my tummy is set on coffee right now, but thank you.” As she donned her outdoor garments, she continued, “I should head back before the weather turns and it gets late. I’ll visit again soon. Take care of Lucy.”

  Martha didn’t know if it was truly morning sickness or if the news she’d just learned had her young neighbor upset. But she understood when a woman needed to be alone. “You ride slow and careful. Tom will be coming to check on you in a few days. If you need anything, he’ll get it.”

  “Thanks. Goodbye.” Carrie Sue mounted, waved, and departed.

  Martha turned to her husband and chided, “Tom Adams, you rag-eared mongrel, you shouldn’t have told her about those outlaws. Carrie Sue don’t need to be worrying about her husband living or dying out there while she’s alone, not in her condition.”

  “I didn’t know she didn’t know about everything. What do you mean, in her condition?”

  Martha scolded herself, “Aw, husband, I done spilled a secret. She’s expecting a baby, but nobody knows it but me. Don’t you be spilling it, too. She ain’t told Thad yet. Didn’t want him crazy with fretting on the trail after them outlaws. We’ll keep watch over her for him. She’s a good woman. I like her.”

  “I like them both,” Tom concurred. “We’ll see to her. Don’t worry.”

  Carrie Sue reached the location where Thad had headed southward yesterday morning and reined in her horse. She stared in that direction again. Jake Sawyer and Slim Reeves. The last she had heard, the two cold-blooded killers were riding in the Arizona and New Mexico territories. She’d never met them, but Darby had. Two years ago, they had tried to get her brother and the Stover Gang to pull off some big jobs with them. As usual, Darby had refused to get connected with vicious men like them.

  Now they were cutting a path through this area, and her beloved husband was on their trail. Why hadn’t Thad told her who he was pursuing? For the same reason she hadn’t told him about the baby she was carrying, she decided, to keep her from being afraid.

  Thad was an ex-Texas Ranger and Special Agent for the President, so he knew how to handle men like Sawyer and Reeves. He knew how dangerous and evil they are. He would be extra careful tracking them.

  But, she fretted, Sawyer and Reeves were smart. That’s how they had eluded the law so long. They had gunned down a Ranger shortly after trying to join up with her brother’s gang, which wasn’t an easy feat. Probably few men were wanted as badly as those two!

  Knowing who had robbed the bank and how, Carrie Sue could not understand why those bastards had let Max, Tom, and Lucy live. Those two usually murdered all witnesses. It was strange . . .

  Carrie Sue’s mind filled with crazy ideas. She dismissed the one about Max and Tom taking the money and blaming innocent men. Both were good men, and little Lucy had been shot. Besides, no man in his right mind would frame dangerous outlaws like Sawyer and Reeves! Of course, men like those two cutthroats were crazy, so their actions didn’t always make sense. Perhaps little Lucy had been what stayed their deadly hands.

  The redhead shivered and her teeth chattered. The sun had vanished behind ominous clouds. The temperature was dropping rapidly. She had to get home, get her chores done, and get out of this frigid and damp air.

  Carrie Sue guided her pinto toward the Rocking J Ranch. The ground was freezing again and she heard the crunch of warnings beneath her mount’s hooves. It took her longer to return, but she finally made it.

  She dismounted, unsaddled her horse, and put away her gear. While she was out, she put up the stock and tended them for the night. Her footsteps were loud in the almost eerie silence in the sheltered valley. She sighed with relief when she was inside with the doors locked. She leaned against the wall, closed her eyes, and was thankful to be home safe. She only wished her husband was here with her.

  Sawyer, Reeves, and a possible blizzard in the area . . . Thad out there in the midst of all three . . . “God, protect my love.”

  Carrie Sue discarded her outerwear. She fueled the fires with new wood. Her appetite was lagging, but she made hot coffee to warm her. She had to do something to busy her hands and mind.

  As she sipped steaming coffee, she stitched cloth ornaments for their first Christmas tree. On one, she put her name and the date. On another, she put Thad’s name and the date. On a third, she put BABY and 1876. She sewed the tiny bells, stars, and assorted shapes she had cut out in secret from material from Dorothy Carnes’s trunk.

  Tomorrow, she would dip the pine cones she’d collected into red and white paint she’d found in the barn. They could dry by the fire while Thad was gone. She could melt wax and make the tiny candles to use to light up the momentous tree. She could cut long strips of colorful ribbons found in the trunk. She could place everything in a wooden box when finished. Then when Christmas neared, she and Thad could fetch their first tree and decorate it together. What fun that would be!

  If Christmas Eve came and he hadn’t returned, she would decorate the tree alone to have it ready for his arrival. She wanted this first Christmas to be special, all of them to be special. She wanted to begin the traditions that would follow them through their marriage. How could she, if he didn’t make it home in time?

  Was sharing such tasks and such days together all-important? Not as important, she decided, as Thad making it home alive whenever he could.

  On Friday morning, December twenty-second, Thad had been gone for four days and nights. Carrie Sue could not imagine what was taking place on the trail, and she fought hard to keep up her faith and optimism. Never had she worried about him more than during this absence.

  In the last few days, she had completed the ornaments for their first Christmas tree—the tiny candles, the handmade assortment, the ribbons, the pine cones, and a star for the top painted white. Thad’s shirt was wrapped in a square of green material. Her menu was decided, and food would be cooked on the twenty-fourth. Garments in need of repairs had been mended. Washing and ironing were done. Every room in their home was clean, including the porches.

  As she was about to head back to the barn to shovel out the milk cow’s stall, Tom Adams arrived on horseback. She went to greet him.

  He swept off his hat, nodded, then replaced it. “Howdy, Carrie Sue. You doing all right?” he inquired with concern.

  She overlapped her arms and cupped her elbows in her palms. “Everything’s been fine, Tom; thanks. How is Lucy?”

  Tom beamed with joy and relief. “Stronger and talkier every day. Doc says she don’t have to stay in bed all the time now. Should be healed in another week, he says.”

  “That’s wonderful news. Thad will be happy to hear it.”

  Tom shifted nervously. “Heard from him yet?”

  Carrie Sue read the caution and worry in Tom’s eyes and voice. She figured he felt partly responsible for her husband being gone and in danger. Too, the four had become good friends and neighbors since their arrival in Gates. Despite her growing fears, she tried to lessen Tom’s. “No, but that’s expected. T.J. doesn’t send word unless he gets near a town. I’d imagine those robbers are staying clear of them for a while. I guess they know by now they’re being pursued.” From past experience on the outlaw trail and from hearing about those two criminals, she knew that was a fact, not a guess. She prayed again he
r love didn’t fall into an ambush.

  “Me and the wife are praying for him. We want that money back bad, but Thad’s safety is more important. I hope he don’t take no chances.”

  With confidence, she assured him, “He won’t, Tom, but he’ll keep going until his mission’s over, no matter how long it takes.”

  “I sure hope that isn’t much longer, Carrie Sue.” He realized he might be frightening her, so he changed the subject. “Here I stand jawing when I came to see if you need any chores done and to bring you these things from Martha. She made you two one of her special cakes, and sent over more of her canned soup. I grew most of these vegetables myself.” He passed the bundle to the redhead with a smile.

  Carrie Sue accepted it. “Thanks, Tom, and thank Martha. She makes the best soup I’ve put in my mouth. It’s even better on a cold day. When our first garden comes in next year, Martha will have to teach me how to make soup. It’s been a long time since I’ve done canning and such.”

  “You miss teaching school?”

  Tom didn’t know much about her past; he knew she had once worked in a Tucson school, but not that she’d only been using the identity of Carolyn Starns, schoolmarm, as a cover while she fled her outlaw existence. “I haven’t had time since I quit, married, and moved here. With getting the ranch started next spring, I doubt I will.”

  “You’re sure good with children. My little Lucy loves you. That was mighty kind of you to make those cookies and that doll. She finished them off in a few days and never lets that doll go for more than a minute or two.”

  Carrie Sue assumed Martha had let her secret slip to her husband, but she didn’t comment on her pregnancy. “I’m happy she likes it. She’s a fine girl, Tom. So sweet, polite, and smart. Be proud of her.”

  The man beamed again. “We are. It scared years off my life when she got shot. You never think about things like that happening to you.”

  No innocent victim of a crime did, she thought, ashamed again of her past that could have had little Lucys in it if Thad hadn’t stepped into her life. “At least she’ll be well soon; that’s a lot to be thankful for.”

  “Me and Martha got plenty to be thankful for, more this year than most. Sure is nice to have good neighbors like you and the marshal. Now, tell me what I can do to help out whilst he’s gone.”

  She could ask Tom to shovel out the cow’s stall, but she needed work to distract her and she wanted to be alone in case Thad returned home soon. Yet Tom had ridden over and needed to do something for her. “I appreciate the offer, Tom, but my daily chores are few and easy. The only thing I can think of is help with the water trough. It froze too deep last night for me to bust through. I was about to work on it again.”

  He was delighted to do a good deed for her. “Just show me your breaker and I’ll get rid of it. That’s hard and heavy work for a female.”

  Carrie Sue led him to the barn and handed him the tool which looked similar to a large hammer. They went into the corral. She watched Tom slam it into the hard surface several times, sending chips of ice flying in all directions. He labored until the frozen barrier yielded to his superior strength and efforts. He flipped large hunks to the white ground, then filled it halfway with water from the nearby well.

  “It’ll probably freeze again at night, so just pour two buckets of water atop it every morning. That’ll give you enough room to add what the stock needs for a few days. Least we haven’t gotten that blizzard yet, but it’s been threatening to come for a week. Getting colder ever’ day.” Tom glanced around at the lovely valley and cloudy sky as he checked the weather and talked. “Course Wednesday’s snow is soft and pretty. Might be best if the sun don’t come out and warm it. Minute it gets cold, it’ll freeze into ice; that’s what’s dangerous. After you been here a winter or two, you’ll learn the signs and get used to it. What else can I do for you?”

  “That’s it. Thank you. Would you like some coffee?”

  Tom studied the gloomy sky once more. “I best get back home. Weather’s as sly as a fox this time of year. You stay close to the house. I’ll be over again Sunday or Monday to see if you need anything.”

  Carrie Sue expressed her gratitude again. She waved goodbye to her nearest neighbor and watched his departure. She stared at the ominous sky. “Hurry home, my love; this weather doesn’t look good. I don’t want you and Nighthawk stuck somewhere during a violent blizzard.”

  She went to the barn, shoveled out the waste-stained straw, then spread fresh straw in the stall. She checked those of the horses and steers, and decided those could wait another few days, as they were not penned up day and night as the milk cow was.

  The redhead returned to the house and took a bath. She also scrubbed her flaming tresses, then sat before a hot fire to dry them. While she waited, she devoured the vegetable soup Martha had sent to her. As she brushed her hair and tested its dampness, she talked to the child she was carrying and prayed for her husband, for all of them.

  By mid-morning Saturday, Carrie Sue realized it was going to snow and get colder that night. She had experienced enough winters and learned enough from Kale Rushton to recognize the signs. If they were going to have a tree to decorate, she needed to fetch it today. She had already picked out the one she wanted and it was six feet high and growing on a low hill west of the house.

  She bundled up good, saddled her pinto, took an axe and a rope, and headed in that direction. It wasn’t far, so she’d be safe, and the chore wouldn’t take long. She rode to the site and dismounted. It was almost deathly quiet. Not even snow or ice softened to drop to the ground and make noise. She didn’t hear any birds or animals, not even sounds from their stock, or any rushing of water in the stream far away or in rivulets created when the white covering melted. The world around her was white, with splotches of green, especially from pines that towered above the other trees. Even the haze settling closer and closer to the earth didn’t have its bluish cast today. There was a dampness in the air that chilled to the bone. Knowing she needed to hurry back inside before she took sick, she eyed her target.

  A smile crossed her face. The tree was perfect. She only wished Thad were there to share the fun task. She chopped into the bark on the trunk, hardened by the weather.

  Finally, it fell to the ground. She let out a whoop of joy and success, and heard it echo across the silent landscape. Her pinto’s head jerked upward, his eyes found her, and he neighed as if answering a question. She secured the rope around the trunk and lower branches, then tied it to the pommel. She mounted. They trudged toward the barn, the tree leaving a furrow behind them in the snow.

  Carrie Sue unsaddled her pinto, praised him for his assistance, and gave him some sweet-feed. She replaced the axe, took the saw, and dragged the tree to the back porch. After a straight cut was made at the base, she stood it in a bucket of water to prevent drying. Pleased with herself, she cleaned up the mess she’d made and put away the tool.

  Later, she boiled water, killed their fattest hen, and plucked its feathers. She wrapped it in a clean cloth and placed it in the cooling cabinet on the back porch until it was time to roast it tomorrow. She baked cornbread for her dressing and put it aside. She looked around and decided there were no more preparations to be made until Sunday, Christmas Eve.

  As expected, fresh snow began to fall as she finished her outside chores. The wind carried a frigid edge and urged her to hurry, which she did. Snug inside her home, she remembered there would be no church service tomorrow to attempt to reach. It was not the Sunday for the minister who served four towns to visit them.

  “One more day, my love, and no sign of your return.” She caressed the area where her unborn child lived and whispered, “Don’t worry, little one; he’ll make it back soon. I know he will.” Yet, hope was fading fast.

  Christmas Eve arrived, and no Thad Jamison appeared. The hen was baked. The dressing was done. The egg, rice, and raisin pudding was cooked. Jars of canned vegetables stood ready to be warmed when the other food was reh
eated. Martha’s cake was on a lovely platter. The house smelled wonderful with the mingling of delicious aromas.

  Carrie Sue looked at the mantel in the parlor where she had placed small branches of pine and candles to be lit for a romantic setting. She gazed at the tree in one corner. It looked so barren, so beckoning, so lonely. She wanted Thad here to help decorate it, but that could be wishful thinking. Maybe it was best to do it herself tonight, to have it look beautiful when he first glimpsed it. But that would ruin the tradition she wanted to begin of decorating together, as her family had done each Christmas Eve.

  Carrie Sue went to a window and stared outside. Snow was still falling, getting thicker on the ground by the hour. She heard wind howling through the valley and in the trees near the house. The conditions allowed very little moonlight to brighten the outdoors, so she couldn’t see far.

  She felt lonely, beckoning, and miserable—like the naked tree. Perhaps working on it would lift her spirits. It would certainly occupy her time, hands, and mind. She fetched the decorations.

  The redhead took great caution as she mounted the wooden stool to tie the white star to the top branch. She lit a large candle. She dripped pools of soft wax onto forks of the largest branches, then placed one of the tiny candles she’d made there and blew on the area until it set and held. She hung the handmade ornaments with yarn loops, giving prominence to those with their names and dates. She smiled with delight as she suspended the one marked, BABY, 1876. She could hardly wait to point it out to her husband. She draped the colorful lengths of ribbon around the tree. She filled in empty spots with the small red and white pine cones.