Jesse: Merry Christmas, Cowboy

by Lynnette Kent

  Which would be a shame, he thought. Not to see Janie again, or get the chance to apologize for his stupid accusations. She deserved to hear him acknowledge the truth.

  So he sat up straighter. He was struggling to keep his eyes open when an unexpected aurora of light on the horizon caught his attention. “What the hell is that?”

  Mark didn’t appear too alert himself. “Mirage?”

  “Don’t think so.”

  “Santa Claus?”

  “A day early.”

  “It’s a long trip around the world. He’s getting a head start.”

  They both chuckled, then fell silent again.

  At last, when Jesse was beginning to think they would all just lie down in the snow and get some shut-eye, Ghost stopped walking.

  “Good idea,” he muttered. “We can rest for a few minutes.”

  “Nope.” Beside him, Mark stirred. “Look.”

  Ahead of them stood a gate. Beyond the gate, not more than a hundred yards off, were the barns. Every out side light, every floodlight and most of the interior lights had been switched on.

  And beside the barns was a herd of pickup trucks, headlights blazing and horns blaring. Jesse thought he heard music, too—rock and roll, country or carols. Maybe all three.

  “What in the world are they doing?” Mark asked as people standing on the trucks started waving their arms and jumping up and down.

  Jesse grinned and dismounted to open the gate. “Welcoming us home.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “There they are!”

  “Where?”

  “I see them!”

  The entire Cody family had gathered at the barn, once Nicki called J.W. and Anne to tell them Jesse and Mark hadn’t shown up by sundown. Now they all cheered and shouted as the horses carrying the two men shuffled through knee-deep snow to get home.

  Janie hung back, not wanting to impose but not able to stay away, either. Jesse wouldn’t be glad to see her, but she’d needed to know he was safe. Mark, too, of course. She told herself she’d leave in just a minute or two. Really, she would.

  The horses stopped just within the circle of light from the barns and trucks. Dusty Cody went to Jesse’s horse and Elly took the palomino. Walker stood ready to handle the calf Mark had been carrying—Janie could see the poor thing struggle feebly during the transfer. The mama cow could, as well, and began crying for her baby. Anne had already untied the rope Jesse had fixed to his saddle horn and she led the cow as Walker headed with quick strides into the cattle barn. Dex followed on his crutches. Maryanne waited just inside the barn door with Josie and Paula and their sons, who watched all the unusual activity with wide eyes.

  Nicki had rushed to Mark’s side and stood beside him as he dropped out of the saddle. He groaned and staggered as his feet took his weight.

  “Cold,” he said, teeth chattering. “I’m colder now than I’ve been all day.”

  “Lean on me,” Nicki told him, bringing his arm around her shoulder. Elly led the palomino toward the horse barn. “We’ve got hot drinks and food inside. You’ll be fine.”

  Mark grinned and kissed the top of her head. “I’m al ready fine.”

  J.W. had gone to stand by Jesse’s horse. “Coming down?”

  Jesse took a deep breath. “I’m thinking about it.” He lift ed his head as Janie watched, and his gaze met hers across the distance between them. “You go on in, Dad. I can make it.”

  “Sure?”

  “Yeah.”

  The Cody patriarch nodded and headed into the cattle barn. The big double doors slid closed, blocking out the blowing snow and cold air.

  Moving in what looked like slow motion, Jesse stirred in the saddle. Slipping his feet from the stirrups, he leaned forward to swing his right leg over. He hung there for a moment, then slid to the ground…and fell back ward flat out in the snow.

  “Jesse?” Dusty stepped toward his brother. “Jesse?”

  Janie arrived in the next second, dropping to her knees beside him. He lay with his eyes closed. Snowflakes had frozen onto his eyelashes. “Jesse? Say something. Please.”

  “I’m sorry,” he mumbled.

  Dusty cleared his throat and looked at Janie. “Can you handle this?”

  “I think so.”

  He gave her a nod and led the gray horse, his head hanging with exhaustion, off to a well-deserved rubdown and dinner.

  When Janie looked back to Jesse, he’d opened his eyes. “Did you hear me? I’m sorry.” His white hat lay crown down in the snow.

  “For what?”

  “Being a jackass and a jerk.”

  “Oh.” She brushed snow off his shoulder. “Don’t worry about it right now.”

  “I was thinking—if I laid down and slept like I wanted to, I’d never get to tell you I didn’t mean it.”

  “You’ve got to get out of the snow.” She got to her feet, took hold of his hand and pulled. “Come on, Jesse. Let’s go inside.”

  “Can’t.” He resisted her tug. “Not that way.”

  As she watched, he rolled over to lie facedown in the snow. Then with the same slow-motion moves, he came up onto his hands and knees. From there, he pushed up until he knelt upright.

  “Now, I need help.”

  Janie stood in front of him. Before anything else, she took off one of her gloves and wiped the snow from his face with her fingertips. “That’s better. What next?”

  But Jesse didn’t say a word. He just knelt there in front of her, bareheaded, staring up into her face, his big blue eyes as serious and as intense as she’d ever seen them. Janie couldn’t look away.

  The next thing she knew, he was holding her bare hand in both of his. “Tell me you forgive me, Janie.” Bending his head, he kissed her knuckles before looking at her again. “And then tell me that you’ll marry me.”

  She couldn’t believe what she’d heard. “Did you—”

  The barn doors banged open behind her. Janie whirled to see Walker and Will striding out into the snow.

  “Are you crazy?” Will was shaking his head.

  As Jesse struggled to his feet, Walker put a shoulder underneath one arm, while Will supported the other. “You’re risking frostbite out here, brother. This isn’t the time for making snow angels.”

  Still looking at Janie, Jesse struggled to pull back. “Thanks, guys, but I’m busy. Let me go.”

  Walker shook his head. “We have orders from The Man.”

  “And The Woman,” Will added. “We bring you inside or no Christmas dinner for us.”

  They dragged Jesse, still protesting, toward the barn. Janie followed. “I’ll shut the doors,” she called as they crossed the threshold.

  “Thanks,” Walker yelled.

  “Janie—” Jesse started. Then the trio turned into the lounge doorway and whatever he wanted to say was lost.

  Standing just where snowfall met concrete, Janie stared longingly into the Cody barn.

  After a minute, though, she stiffened her backbone and pulled the sliding doors toward the center, first one, then the other, leaving herself on the outside.

  By the time anybody realized she hadn’t joined them—if they did—she’d be in her truck, speeding down the county highway.

  Headed home, where she belonged.

  MARK HAD BEEN ALLOWED to go home because Nicki would look after him. Jesse spent the night at his parents’ house. He’d been too tired to argue with all of his siblings and their partners, too exhausted to insist on going home by himself. Janie had disappeared last night, without saying yes or no to either of his requests. So it didn’t matter much where he went to bed.

  He didn’t wake up until J.W. knocked on the door and then walked in without waiting for an invitation. “You planning to sleep the day away?”

  “I’m considering the option.” Jesse propped his pillows on the headboard and leaned back against them. “I don’t exactly feel like building a snowman this morning.”

  “Hands okay?” His dad sat down in a nearby arm
chair.

  “Still tingling some.” Jesse flexed his fingers. “No blisters, though. I do have a couple of blistered toes.”

  “Damn stupid thing to do, going out after that cow. We lose cows all the time.”

  Even J.W.’s bluntness couldn’t get a rise out of him today. The effort just wasn’t worth it. “We got the cow easy enough. It didn’t seem right to leave a calf out there to die just before Christmas, if we could save it.” He shrugged. “All’s well that ends well. Right?”

  His dad’s keen brown gaze searched his face. “You don’t look like you’ve reached any kind of happy ending.”

  Jesse shrugged. “I imagine you’ve talked to Mom.”

  “I have.”

  “I guess I should apologize—you aren’t the only guilty party in this mess.”

  J.W. snorted. “Hell, son, nobody gets through this life guilt-free. We all make mistakes, all the time. Now, granted, some of those errors are more serious than others.”

  Jesse stared out the window into the backyard, where bright sunshine played over pine branches dolloped with snow. “Denying a boy the chance to know his father seems like a big one to me.”

  “Even back then, I didn’t think Anne was unreasonable in what she asked. A man can’t be faithful to two women—and their children—at the same time. If Abigail had let me see the boy, I would have had to choose eventually. Or else she would have had to let her son go. And I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t do that.”

  “You’re satisfied you did the right thing?”

  The smile that split J.W.’s craggy face was almost tender. “How could I be otherwise? I’ve had four boys calling me Dad and growing up strong under the blue Wyoming sky. A little girl to spoil. A beautiful, passionate wife to share my days and nights. What more could I ask?”

  The answer came from somewhere deep inside Jesse. “An NFR champion.”

  His dad laughed. “Yeah, that would have been good.” Then he left the chair and came over to stand beside the bed. “But belt buckles and saddles and trophies don’t make the ranch run, Jesse. I pushed all you boys to the limit with your rodeo skills, ’cause that kind of perseverance is what it takes to maintain an enterprise like ours. You take a fall, you get up and ride again. You make a decision that fails, you change your strategy and start again.

  “All my sons are good men. But there’s one lynchpin in this family, keeping everything together, making the machine run smooth. God knows I’m grateful, Jesse.”

  His dad’s weathered hand came down onto Jesse’s shoulder. “You should know that, too. Now, more than ever.”

  Before Jesse could lift his own hand, another knock sounded on the door. J.W. went to open it.

  “You’re gonna spoil this boy,” he warned his wife, who stood in the hallway with a tray of food. “He could get up and come downstairs to breakfast.”

  “Hush, John Walker. I can feed him anywhere in this house I want to.” She set the tray on the table by the window. “I’m not going so far as to give you breakfast in bed,” Anne said, looking all around the room to avoid making eye contact. “You can eat whatever you want and come downstairs when you’re ready.”

  “I’m heading over to the barn,” J.W. said from the doorway. “Be back for lunch.” He didn’t wait around for anyone to say goodbye.

  Wiping her hands with a dish towel, Anne started to follow him. “Take your time. I’ll just be—”

  “Mom.”

  She halted in at the door, facing away from him.

  “This is my week for apologies. You don’t want to miss out.”

  He saw her shoulders shake with a brief laugh. “You had a right to be angry. I did something terrible.”

  “But I had no right to judge you.” Jesse rubbed a hand over his face. “I’ve done too much of that lately. You should have reminded me about glass houses and casting stones.”

  His mother turned back and finally met his gaze. “Does that mean you’ll be able to forgive me? I don’t have any excuse, really…” She held up her hands in a helpless gesture.

  Jesse slid out from underneath the covers and crossed the floor. “Your excuse is love. Love for Dad and for the family you wanted together. Starting with me.” He cupped her elbows and drew her into a hug. “I guess I needed to grow up enough to admit that nobody’s perfect.” He felt her tears soaking into the shoulder of his T-shirt. “Not even you. But,” he offered, hoping for a smile, “you’re close enough.”

  “Thanks,” she whispered.

  He kissed her temple. “I love you, Mom.”

  “I love you, too.” She straightened out of his arms, wiping her face with the dish towel. “Now, go eat something.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “And, Jesse?”

  “Mmm?” The food on that tray suddenly looked and smelled pretty good.

  “Put some pants on before you come downstairs.”

  He glanced at his lap and realized he’d slept in just his underwear. “Will do.”

  THE MARKTON FEED STORE was closed on Christmas Eve. Most of the town’s merchants, in fact, had stayed home. In honor of the season, their windows displayed decorations and lights, Christmas trees, elves and Santas and snow. Of course, they had more than enough of the real stuff outside. No spray flakes required.

  With a half-price tree from Cody in the back of her truck, Janie rode slowly through town, hoping to dredge up some Christmas cheer. So far, the only thing she felt was cold.

  Not for the first time, she decided to become more serious about attending church. Christmas was, at its heart, about believing in the miracles of grace and love that arrived on a long ago night with the birth of a baby. Markton offered several denominations to choose from, and she recognized the value of a faith-based community. Especially when you were losing a loved one.

  But this year, she hadn’t attended any worship services. Her mother wouldn’t recognize Christmas from any other day of the year, and so Janie hadn’t thought about trees or decorations or even a decent holiday dinner. Mark and Nicki would eat with her dad, or the Codys. Maybe both. Janie figured she would eat alone, as usual.

  But today, with the sun-kissed world painted in white and blue and green like the interior of a snow globe, she’d decided she needed a Christmas tree. She would stand it outside and string it with all colors of twinkling lights. Surely that would lift her lonely spirits.

  By the time the sun set, she had draped the tree with as many lights as it could hold. She even found a working extension cord and a socket to plug into. And she found herself smiling as she gazed at the cheerful blaze of color against the starry sky.

  For the final step of her plan, she went into the house and ladled some warm spiced cider into a Christmas mug she’d bought for the purpose, also half-price. The sweet apple aroma filled the house and made even the undecorated rooms seem livelier. Carrying her cider, Janie went outside again and sat down on the front steps to gaze at her splendid tree.

  “Merry Christmas,” she said, raising her mug in a toast.

  “Merry Christmas,” someone replied.

  She froze with the cup halfway to her mouth. “Jesse?”

  He stepped out from behind the tree. “Hey, Janie.”

  “What are you doing out in the cold?”

  “I didn’t walk all the way from the ranch. Just the corner.” Coming closer, he nodded in the direction of town. “And I’m plenty warm. Ski gloves and liners, waterproof boots and two pairs of socks. Knit cap, which I hate.”

  “Learned your lesson, did you?”

  “We miscalculated yesterday. Neither of us expected to spend much time outside on horseback. We would have dressed differently.”

  “I’m glad you’re okay. Mark’s good, too.”

  “Yeah, I talked to him earlier.”

  Such a casual remark for such a momentous event. “You two have…um…”

  “Made peace?” Jesse chuckled. “Nothing so formal. But he offered his help yesterday, and I accepted. We’ll move for
ward from there.”

  “Good. I think you can be friends, one day. You have a lot in common.”

  “Besides a father, you mean?” His question held no trace of bitterness that she could hear.

  “Your love for the land and the animals. Your willingness to do the work.”

  “Not to mention a woman in our lives too stubborn to see how special she is. How much she matters.”

  Janie set her mug beside her on the steps and clasped her hands together on her knees. She didn’t know what to say.

  Jesse had come to stand right in front of her. “You ran away last night without giving me an answer.”

  Her laugh sounded hollow in the cold, still air. “Of course, I forgive you. You’ve been hit with some hard truths, lately—anyone would be stunned and confused. I just hope you’ve worked things out with your parents.”

  “We’re family. That’s what we do.” He reached out and took her hands in his, pulling her to stand up. “How about my second question?”

  “I don’t—”

  “I can repeat it, if you want me to. Including the kneeling part.”

  “You shouldn’t—”

  But he was already on his knees in the snow. He’d removed his gloves at some point, and now he took hers off, too. His warm fingers fit in between hers, folding their palms together.

  “I love you, Janie Hansen. I can’t say when it happened—maybe that night you drove me home in the snow. Or maybe since we were teenagers, and I just never knew it.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” she told him. “I loved you then, enough for both of us. And nothing’s changed.”

  Again, he kissed her hands, her fingers and wrists. “I want to marry you, Janie. You’re the fire and the spice I need in my life.”

  She discovered she couldn’t restrain her smile. “Stand up,” she said, pulling on his hands. “Get out of the snow.”

  He got to his feet, then let go of her hands and pulled her into his arms. “Is that a yes?”

  “I’ll have to go away to school,” she warned.

  “Instead of riding bulls on the weekends, I’ll make visiting you my personal rodeo.” He attempted a wicked leer, which failed miserably.