“None that would have me,” he said, refusing to let the old pain of abandonment get a hold on him anymore. “Reckon the closest I’ve ever come to family was when Kirby Morris took me, Dade and Trey in off the streets.”
She was silent for the longest time as she added another glass ball to the already crowded tree. “Dade and Trey. Are they the lads Hubert referred to?”
“That’s them.”
“Are they coming for your wedding?”
He rubbed his palm over his nape and heaved a weary sigh. “If they do, it’ll surprise the hell out of me.”
It’d ease his mind too, for once the three of them banded together again, Burl Erston wouldn’t have a leg to stand on.
“From what I’ve heard and deduced, it sounds as if Mr. Morris was a very good man,” she said.
“That he was.”
Reid still couldn’t get over the fact that Kirby claimed he, Dade and Trey had given him a better reason to make a new life in the West. Damn shame it ended up being a short one.
She gingerly unwrapped something on the table, then stared up at the top of the tree. “I need your help with this.”
“Just tell me what to do.”
She handed him a doll made of what looked like cornhusks. It was far from the fancy decorations already on the tree, but the way she cradled it had him guessing it meant something special to her.
“Would you please put the angel atop the tree?”
“Sure thing.” He took it from her, then eased his hold when the husks crackled. “She looks like she’s been around awhile.”
Ellie’s sweet laugh danced around him like glittering bits of frost. “My mother made this when I was a child.”
He stared at the plain cornhusk angel again and felt a stab of envy that she had something to treasure from a parent. With care, he slipped the angel over the top spear of the tree, and refused to let the sense of rightness he felt with this woman gain a foothold.
“You done now decking the parlor?” he asked when she just stood there staring at the tree all misty-eyed.
“For tonight.” She smiled at him, eyes twinkling with merriment again. “I have to finish hanging the stockings for you and Miss Morris by the fireplace.”
He laughed at that. “Don’t bother on my account.”
“You, sir, are on your way to getting a lump of coal.”
“No doubt you’re right, for St. Nick never saw fit to drop a cookie or toy in my stocking.”
She sighed, her smile wistful. “One is never too old to wish on stars or enjoy Christmas to the fullest, for it’s a time of joy and hope for all.”
“I’m not so sure about that.”
“Believe me, Mr. Barclay,” she said as she bustled past him on her way to the door. “There is always time for hope.”
He watched her leave and felt the ache of loss settle in his gut. He took in the festive parlor one last time.
She was right about it brightening his spirits some. But he’d given up hope long ago when he’d cried for the family that never came. He vowed never to let himself feel that vulnerable again.
Ellie stood before the range she’d yet to make friends with and attempted to get the morning meal cooked. Bacon, she found, pretty much cooked itself. But instead of an accompaniment of eggs, Reid Barclay requested flapjacks, of all things.
Mixing the batter wasn’t hard at all. Apportioning the correct amount of batter on the griddle took practice.
The first ones were far too large. Not only did they burn on the bottoms, but the first one she flipped sailed over the others and plopped onto the floor.
She managed to turn the second one over on the grill, but it landed atop another one. Sweat popped out on her brow as she tried and failed to separate the two.
So she started over and poured far smaller circles onto the sizzling grill. And all the while she was haunted by what Reid had told her last night.
She’d never guessed the big cowboy had been an orphan, or that he’d never celebrated Christmas in his life. Why, she wouldn’t be surprised if he’d never been honored at his birthday either.
So though he was a rogue and a scoundrel when it came to fidelity, she felt compelled to show him how wonderful Christmas could be—starting with a good breakfast.
The smaller flapjacks were far easier to turn without mishap, but she still burned three of them.
Hubert trudged into the kitchen, his face dour as always. He pointed to the platter of dark flapjacks—some whole, some torn in half during the flipping process. “Are those Mr. Barclay’s breakfast?”
“No, those are mistakes.”
He made a sound much like a suppressed laugh. “Mr. Barclay wishes to know if breakfast will be served soon.”
She flicked the older man a harried glance and managed to turn over the last hotcake without incident. “A few minutes more at best.”
That proved to be true, and she soon had a stack of flapjacks. A check of the coffee pot proved there was plenty on hand should Reid want more. Later, she’d steep tea for Miss Morris.
She rightly didn’t give a fig what Burl Erston preferred. The wretched man could make due with the fare she’d set out. And if he didn’t like it?
Ellie ground her teeth as she carried the just-warmed plates into the dining room, then went back to the kitchen. She had to bear in mind she had cast herself into the subservient role here, but it galled her to have to wait on the likes of Burl Erston.
After transferring the bacon to a plate and leaving a generous serving of meat and cakes for Hubert, she declined the butler’s offer to help and carried breakfast in to Reid.
Her gaze flicked to the head of the table where he held court, cradling a cup of coffee in his big hands. Her insides fluttered just thinking of those same hands bracketing her waist and drawing her near.
“I apologize for the delay,” she said, damning the flush that stole over her face as she set the plates before him.
“Smells good,” he said, taking up his fork. “Looks good too.”
She said a quick prayer that it tasted good as well.
“Would there be anything else you’d like?” she asked.
“I’d appreciate it if you’d pull up a chair and share the morning meal with me.”
She’d like nothing better than to partake of a leisurely breakfast with him. But that would surely overstep her bounds.
“Your guests would be appalled to find the help sitting at the dining table.”
He snorted and pushed to his feet. “My guests will be abed for another hour. Join me, Miss Cade.”
She bit her lower lip, sorely tempted. It had been a trying morning getting this much done.
“Very well.”
Ellie poured herself a cup of coffee and added sugar to the brew, content to stir it and watch Reid. Never mind that she’d been practically salivating over want of the beverage.
The man was an enigma she longed to solve. But the fact that he would soon be another woman’s husband gave her no reason to pursue it. No reason but curiosity.
“I trust you purchased a Christmas gift for your fiancée?”
He frowned. “Nope.”
“You should, you know,” she said, sounding far too breathy to her own ears.
“You got any suggestions?”
“Something to commemorate the day, like a locket.”
“You may have to help me with that.” And then he winked at her and returned to his breakfast.
Oh, this was wickedly wrong. How could he play the part of a gentleman rancher one moment, and a seductive cowboy set on charming her out of her bloomers the next?
That question nagged at her as she took a seat next to Reid and satisfied her hunger with a few pancakes drizzled with syrup. They turned out far better than she’d expected.
Ellie forked the last of her pancake in her mouth, feeling like a fumble bunny when flecks of sticky breading stuck to her chin. She licked her mouth to catch them, but that one morsel eluded her reach.
In an instant, Reid’s hand shot toward her to capture the crumb. The pad of his thumb streaked over her skin, gliding up to catch the crumb. But instead of brushing it aside, he brought his thumb to his mouth and flicked the crumb off with his tongue.
Ellie’s mouth went dry and a pulsing heat expanded low in her belly. Desire. She knew it instantly, even though she’d never felt this intensity of the emotion before. Even though she’d never before behaved so wantonly.
She found herself equating this instant with the treasured ones that wives must surely share with husbands before the children rouse from sleep. This must be a reflection of what it is like before the day’s tasks call them away. That halcyon moment when the world revolves around just the two of them.
All that was needed to make it perfect would be if he fit her in his arms and kissed her.
As if reading her mind, his head bent toward hers. Ellie’s eyes lowered a bit in erotic surrender as Reid bent closer. Closer.
The clearing of a throat tolled like church bells.
Ellie scrambled to her feet and nearly upended a chair, damning the fact that Hubert had caught her and Reid in a compromising situation. Again.
“Marshal Tavish is here to see you, sir,” Hubert said, looking at Reid and not once at her.
Not so for the marshal. He strode into the dining room and treated her to a swift accusatory look before facing Reid.
She went cold inside, for she knew in that instant that something had happened, and her pa had taken the blame again.
Reid regarded the lawman with the same annoyance he would anyone who’d interrupted him and Ellie. But what surprised him was the tension that crackled between the two. Damn, did Ellie share a past with Tavish?
“What brings you out this way?” he asked the marshal, drawing those cool appraising eyes back to him.
“Just got done following up a lead that took me in a circle.” Tavish thumbed his hat back, and there was no hiding the fact that the lawman was pissed off to all get-out.
“How so?”
“Rustlers hit Rocky Point Ranch last night,” Tavish said. “The hands didn’t see a thing, but a cowpoke on his way back from Medicine Bow spotted a man riding for thunder north with a trio of horses.”
Reid checked the impulse to ride to Josie’s spread. She had a husband now, and any problems fell on him. Besides, she and Yancy were spending Christmas with his kin back east.
“How many head they lose?” Reid asked.
“Hiram said three good saddle horses were taken. The most notable being Yancy’s roan gelding.”
“Who’d you say spotted the rustler outside Medicine Bow?”
“I didn’t,” Tavish said, his poker face revealing nothing.
Just what the hell was going on here? Why wasn’t the marshal being straight with him?
“This witness,” Ellie said. “I gather he was able to recognize the outlaw.
“True enough, Miss Cade. He swears he saw Ezra Kincaid hightailing it north with that roan and two other mounts.”
Reid chewed off a line of mumbled curses that would’ve had a reprobate blushing, then he wanted to kick himself when Ellie turned an alarming shade of red. Dammit all!
“You’d think that old man would have the good sense to retire,” he said.
“Yup, but it ’pears that ain’t the case.” Tavish frowned at Ellie. “Something ailing you, Miss Cade?”
“No, I’m fine. It’s just unsettling to know an outlaw is so near.”
“I’ll catch him,” Tavish said.
Reid wasn’t so sure. The old man had slipped through a host of knotholes over the years. He wouldn’t be surprised if Ezra did it again.
“Oh, before I forget, Dan at the depot asked me to pass this letter on to you.” Tavish dropped the note beside Reid. “Y’all have a good day.”
Reid opened it with high hopes it was the letter he’d been expecting. The first lines dashed that hope.
It was from the preacher in Maverick. The man had gone to Sheridan to visit family, and was stuck down with the ague. He doubted he’d be up to returning to Maverick in time for a Christmas wedding, and asked if it could be postponed until the following week.
It could be put off indefinitely for all Reid cared. But a deal was a deal and he wasn’t apt to get out of this one.
He slipped the note in his vest pocket. Still and all, this could be the lucky break he’d been hoping for, or the deal breaker that would rob him of everything he’d worked to achieve.
Chapter 11
Ellie couldn’t recall ever being this nervous in her life. She’d thought the marshal would take his leave and ride off, but he and Reid had trudged straight to the bunkhouse and slipped inside. Was her pa in there? Would the marshal recognize him?
She hugged her aching stomach and pressed her face to the icy glass again. “Oh, just go,” she said.
“Is something amiss?” Hubert asked.
She spun away from the window and faced the butler’s curious stare. “No! I was just working up the fortitude to visit the meat locker.”
It was impossible to tell if Hubert bought that whopper or not. “If you’d like, I’ll make the journey there for you.”
His offer touched her, but she couldn’t let him do that. Her pa would venture there midmorning, and this would be her one chance to talk to him without anyone else around.
“Thank you for volunteering,” she said, and smiled her gratitude as well, even though her nerves where twanging like out-of-tune banjo strings. “But this is a task I prefer doing myself as I need to know what meat is available.”
“Then I’ll take myself off and see if I can be of service to Mr. Erston,” he said, and actually grimaced.
Her heart when out to the butler as he turned and shuffled off, for dealing with the Englishman was a trial neither of them needed. At least Erston seemed to respect Hubert, which was more than he did for her.
The whicker of a horse had her whipping back to the window. She scrubbed the frost off the glass with her sleeve and caught a glimpse of the marshal riding off. Thank God!
Still, she watched and waited a good fifteen minutes before the cook shack door opened and her pa ambled forth. She wasted no time shrugging into her wrapper and adjusting her heavy shawl over her head. Her pa reached the meat locker and disappeared inside.
She stepped outside, and the cold took her breath away. But she pushed thoughts of discomfort aside and walked carefully down the path to the meat locker, her sturdy boots barely making a sound on the hardpack snow.
She’d worked up a bit of warmth by the time she reached the squat building and ducked inside. Her pa straddled a stool inside, clearly waiting for her.
“You have to leave Wyoming,” she said after she gave him a hug and received a crushing one in return. “Go to California—”
“I ain’t going nowhere until I find the varmint who’s using my name to rustle horses.” His green eyes snapped with anger and dared her to argue.
“Don’t be a fool,” she said, rising to the challenge. “Let the law catch him.”
Her pa snorted. “He’s too damn smart for that, which is why he’s slipped by the law for so long.”
Her nervous stomach did an uneasy flip again. “Do you know who he is?”
“Maybe.” He scrubbed his whiskers and stared at the wall, as if trying to place the rustler. “I caught a glimpse of him last night. Least I think it was him.”
“Where?”
“On the ridge beyond the stable.” His bushy white eyebrows met over his bulbous nose, giving him the look of a disgruntled elf. “I can’t be sure, but he sure looked like the man who killed that young woman in Laramie two years back.”
“Slim?” she asked, and he bobbed his head. “You should tell Reid.”
“Hell, Ellie, I can’t tell nobody but you,” he said, and she knew it was true.
She’d trusted one man with the truth before, and he’d betrayed her confidence and abused her affection.
“So what do we do?” she asked.
She caught the longing in his gaze before he hardened his features. “You pack up and leave.”
“Absolutely not!”
He got to his feet with effort and came toward her, grasping her shoulders and staring nearly eye to eye with her. “Listen to me, girl. He knows I’m here on the Crown Seven. That’s why he let it be known he was working here so I’d take the bait.”
Fear wrapped icy arms around her. “You’re scaring me, Pa.”
“I aim to,” he said. “What worries me is that Slim just might have figured out who you are.”
She felt the blood drain from her face.
Six months ago, she’d have pooh-poohed that notion. But Irwin freely prattled about how he’d nearly gotten trapped into marrying her—an outlaw’s daughter.
That had cost her the coveted position she’d achieved at the Denver Academy for Young Ladies. But her reputation was smeared when her pious uncle upheld Irwin and admitted he’d taken in his wife’s niece out of pity. That changing her name to Cade couldn’t cleanse the bad blood that flowed in her veins.
She was fortunate that the headmistress at the Falsmonte Ladies Academy was unaware of her past. But was that secret on the verge of being released again?
“If Slim can’t lure me into a trap,” her pa said, “I fear he’ll use you to draw me out.”
Ellie cupped her pa’s grizzled face in her palms and pressed her forehead against his. “I’m not leaving, not when I may be able to help you. Not when we have a chance to spend Christmas together.”
“Ah, Ellie, it’s too damned dangerous for you to stay.”
“Three days, Pa. Christmas is just three days away.” She pulled back and stared into his eyes that were clouded with worry. “I won’t think of leaving before then.”
He scrunched his mouth in a knot and fixed her with a flinty-eyed look that used to make her laugh so hard she’d cry when she was a child. She wasn’t laughing now, not in the face of so much danger.
“You’re as hard-headed as your ma,” he said at last.
That made her smile. “You don’t suppose I got a bit of that Missouri stubbornness from you?”
A Cowboy Christmas Page 14