After Wes had gone to bed, Shawn stood by the fireplace and looked at the Santa Claus figurine. Abby said to his back, “He does wonderful work. He’s very talented. A very special little boy.”
“Yeah, he is,” Shawn said without turning around. “I’d do anything in the world for him. Don’t reckon I could stand to be parted from him until he’s grown up and ready to go out on his own. And even then, it’s going to be mighty hard to turn loose.”
“Why would you have to? Before Wes is grown up, I mean?”
“You just never know,” Shawn said as he lowered his gaze to stare into the flames. “Things come out of nowhere at you. Maybe the worst thing a fella can do is think that just because he’s happy, things are always going to be that way.”
The pain in his voice made Abby take half a step toward him and start to lift her hand, as if she intended to rest it on his shoulder. Then she stopped herself. She had no right to try to comfort him.
She had turned toward the spare bedroom where she’d been staying, when he stopped her by saying, “The stagecoach will be stopping in the settlement tomorrow. You got that letter written to send back to the matrimonial agency?”
“Yes, I do,” she told him. “Will you take it in and mail it for me?”
“No need for that. We’ll all go, and you can take it. This’ll be your last chance to go to town before Christmas. Anyway, Wes would never hear of you staying behind instead of coming with us.”
Abby didn’t see any point in arguing. She nodded and said, “All right. We’ll all go to Briar Hill in the morning.”
Chapter 6
The weather had warmed up considerably since the day Abby had arrived on the stagecoach. Shawn commented about that the next morning when he helped her up onto the wagon seat.
“Of course, don’t expect it to stay that way for very long,” he warned. “There’s an old saying: if you don’t like the weather in Texas, just wait five minutes.”
“I’m sure it’s not that changeable.”
“Maybe not quite,” Shawn said.
So they were reduced to making small talk about the weather, he thought. That was sort of sad. He didn’t feel like bringing up any sort of serious subject, though. Not the way things had been going. He was too likely to say something he might regret later on.
Like telling Abby to hold off about mailing that letter. It could wait until the next mail run. Wes was happier than he’d been since they had come to Texas, and Shawn knew good and well why that was. Abby was the one who’d made him happy.
She made him happy, too. Happier than he wanted to admit. Every time he saw her for the first time in a while, whether it was first thing in the morning when he walked into the kitchen or later in the day when he came in from the range, whenever he laid eyes on her, his heart gave a little jump. Then, in the evening, when she sat in one of the rocking chairs with the firelight on her, striking red highlights off her dark, glossy hair, he felt a contentment he had feared he would never experience again.
He could have sat and watched her for hours, but she was bound to have noticed that and wondered what he was up to.
It would be simple enough for her to stay around for a while. All she had to do was not mail that letter.
All he had to do was ask her not to mail it.
Shawn tried to force those thoughts out of his mind. He looked around and said, “Where in the world is that boy? He knows we’re going to town this morning. He ought to be out here by now.”
As if Wes had been waiting for that, he emerged from the house, the front door banging behind him.
“Sorry, Pa,” he called to Shawn as he started down the steps.
He had just reached the bottom of them when Chester the goose came around the corner in an explosion of squawks and flapping wings.
Wes could have retreated up the steps and into the house, but instead he let out a startled yell and dashed toward the wagon. On the seat, Abby let out a worried “Oh!”
“Don’t worry,” Shawn said. “I’ll get him.”
He hurried forward to meet Wes. Holding out his arms, he scooped the boy up in them and held him snugly with his left arm while he used his right hand to grab his hat and swat at the crazed goose. Chester retreated, protesting all the way.
Shawn set Wes in the wagonbed and said, “I think we’re gonna have ourselves a nice, plump goose for Christmas dinner in a couple of days, if ol’ Chester doesn’t watch out!”
“No, Pa!” Wes objected. “You can’t do that to Chester. He’s like part of the family.”
“What part? The crazy cousin who ought to be locked up somewhere?”
“You don’t mean that,” Abby said. “You’re fond of Chester just like Wes and I are...at least, when he’s on his best behavior.”
“Maybe,” Shawn admitted grudgingly. He frowned darkly at the goose, who had wandered off toward the barn with his head held high in a haughty manner. “But one of these days...”
Shawn let it go at that and stepped up onto the wagon, sitting down next to Abby. He untied the reins from the brake lever and got the team moving. The wagon rolled away from the ranch toward the settlement.
The sun was warm today, the vault of blue sky dotted with puffy white clouds. Abby said, “My, this seems more like spring than December. It’s hard to believe that Christmas is the day after tomorrow.”
“Don’t let it fool you,” Shawn said. “Whenever you get weather this nice in the winter, it’s usually a sign that a blue norther’s on the way. Tomorrow or the next day, the wind will start howling out of the north, and the temperature will drop like a rock. We’ll be lucky if we don’t get some snow or ice with it. The house and the barn are nice and snug, though, so we’ll be fine. Nobody will freeze.”
“Not even Chester?” Wes asked.
“Not even Chester,” Shawn promised. “I’ll make sure he’s in the barn if the weather gets bad.”
The roofs of the buildings in Briar Hill came in sight a few minutes later. Shawn drove on into town and brought the wagon to a stop in front of Carter’s general store.
“You know the post office is in the back of the store,” he said to Abby.
She nodded and said, “Yes, I remember seeing it when I was in there before.”
“I need to go talk to the fella at the livery stable. He’s a horse trader, too, and I’m going to have to replace one of these draft horses pretty soon. I want to tell him to keep an eye out for a good one for me. You and Wes can go on in the store and I’ll be there in a few minutes.” He paused. “That’ll give you a chance to mail your letter.”
Because if he was there when she went to turn it over to Mr. Carter, who was also the postmaster, he might stop her. That thought caused his heart to hammer in his chest. It would be so easy...but it wouldn’t be right.
“All right,” Abby said quietly as Wes jumped down from the vehicle. Shawn got down, as well, and turned back to help her, but she was already climbing off by herself, like she didn’t want his assistance. He hoped he hadn’t done something to offend her.
Maybe she didn’t want to go. Maybe she was waiting for him to tell her not to send the letter. Several times over the past few days, he had sensed that she would be fine with the idea of staying a while longer.
That wouldn’t change anything in the long run. That wouldn’t make the past go away. And it wouldn’t be fair for him to ask a fine woman like Abby to compete with the ghosts of the past.
“Well, I’ll be back,” he said. He walked toward the livery stable and forced himself not to look over his shoulder at her.
****
Abby’s breath seemed to stick in her throat as she stood at the window in the post office counter at the rear of the store. Her fingers tightened on the envelope she held.
Mr. Carter came over and went behind the counter. He nodded to her, his prominent Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he asked, “Got a letter there you need to mail, ma’am?”
Abby looked down at the envelope in he
r hand as if she had just realized it was there. She hesitated. Once she did this, everything would change. Not just for her, but for Shawn and Wes, as well. There would be no turning back.
But even under the best of circumstances, life still came along and bowled a person over every now and then, and there was nothing that could change that.
“Is the stage on schedule?” she asked.
“Yes’m, as far as I know.”
“Then this letter will go out today?”
“It sure will,” Carter told her.
“How long will it take for it to reach San Antonio?”
“It’ll be there this evening, Lord willin’ and the creek don’t rise. You in a hurry to get in touch with somebody there?”
“Yes,” Abby said. “I suppose I am.”
When she didn’t hand over the envelope, Carter cleared his throat. Abby gave him the envelope.
“That’ll be two cents.”
She thought about telling him she didn’t have the postage, but that would have been a lie. She had already told enough lies; she didn’t want to add the weight of another one. So she took two pennies from her bag and placed them on the counter. Carter swept them up and put the letter somewhere out of sight.
So. It was done. No going back now.
“Mr. Carter, I got to ask you something,” Wes said. Abby hadn’t noticed when the boy came up beside her.
“Sure, son, go ahead,” the storekeeper told him.
Abby turned away, not able to stand there any longer and think about the chain of events she had just set in motion. She heard Wes and Mr. Carter talking but paid no attention to the words. She didn’t really see the goods on the shelves as she walked slowly past them, either.
But she saw the man who suddenly stepped in front of her. He blocked her path, so she couldn’t miss him.
“I see the ol’ stone face has brought his woman to town,” Jake Banning said with a grin on his angular features. “Y’all been havin’ fun out there at the ranch?”
“Excuse me,” Abby said. She started to step around the cowboy, but he moved to get in her way again.
“You’re so pretty I’ll bet you can get even Killian to crack a smile now and then,” Banning went on. His grin widened into a leer as he added, “I know if I was to spend some time alone with you, there’d be a big ol’ smile on my face. Reckon I could make you happy, too.”
“I doubt that very seriously,” Abby said. “Now, if you’ll get out of my way—”
Instead of moving, he lifted his left hand and cupped her chin in the fingertips. She stiffened and tried to pull away, but he slid his hand farther under her chin and tightened his grip.
“You got quite a mouth on you, lady,” he said as he leaned in closer. “I ain’t interested in what it’s got to say, but I’d sure like to try it out some other ways.”
Abby’s right hand slid into her bag. Before she could get what she was reaching for, a tall, broad-shouldered figure loomed up behind Banning, grabbed his shoulder, and jerked him back and around.
The next instant, Shawn’s fist exploded on the man’s jaw like a blow from a sledgehammer.
Banning flew backward and crashed into one of the shelves, knocking it over. It hit another set of shelves and upset them as well, creating a loud, clattering commotion.
Banning pushed himself up and yelled, “Dobbs!”
As Shawn rushed him and swung again, Banning ducked under the roundhouse blow and tackled him. Both men hit the floor hard, but Banning was on top and dug a knee into Shawn’s stomach while he tried to punch him in the face.
Shawn pulled his head aside and Banning’s fist slammed into the floor instead. Banning howled in pain. Shawn grabbed his shirt and heaved him to the side, onto the overturned shelves and the scattered merchandise.
“You men stop that!” Mr. Carter called as he hurried skittishly up the aisle toward the battlers. “Stop it, I say!”
Abby heard fast, heavy footsteps and looked around to see that Frank Dobbs had charged into the store through the arched entrance that connected the mercantile to the saloon next door. Dobbs shouldered Carter out of the way and stomped toward Shawn and Banning.
Shawn was trying to get to his feet. Abby called, “Shawn, look out!”, but the warning came too late. Shawn ran right into a looping punch from Dobbs. The blow rocked Shawn’s head back. It would have sent his hat flying if the Stetson hadn’t already fallen off. Shawn stumbled back a step. Dobbs bored in, fist cocked to throw another punch.
Before he could do that, Shawn snapped a left jab to his nose. Blood spurted under the impact. Dobbs howled. Shawn might have finished him with another punch, but Banning made it back to his feet and grabbed him from behind, pinning his arms.
“I got him, Dobbsy!” Banning cried. “Teach him a lesson!”
Dobbs had a crimson smear across his face from his bleeding nose, but he managed a savage grin as he moved in on Shawn. Unexpectedly, Shawn rocked his weight back against Banning, lifted both feet, and kicked Dobbs in the chest. The terrific impact knocked the burly Dobbs off his feet and also drove Banning back so that he lost his balance and fell.
Shawn landed on top this time, and as he did, he drove his elbow into Banning’s stomach. The man turned green and struggled for breath as Shawn rolled off of him. Shawn twisted around and landed a hard right fist on Banning’s jaw as he sat up. That knocked him back down, and from the way his eyes rolled up in their sockets, it was obvious he was going to stay there for a while.
It appeared that Dobbs was out of the fight, too. He lay a few feet away, moaning softly, unable to get up.
Mr. Carter looked at the wreckage in this part of the store and demanded, “Who’s going to pay for this?”
Shawn leaned over, dug inside Banning’s coat, and came up with a soft canvas pouch. As he tossed it to Carter, he said, “You can take the damages out of Banning’s poke, if you don’t mind dirty money. If he doesn’t have enough, I’ll make up the difference.” He gave the two men on the floor a contemptuous look. “It’ll be worth it.”
Then he turned to Abby and gripped her arm.
“Are you all right?” he asked. The fierce concern in his eyes and voice kindled an unexpected warmth in her.
“I’m fine,” she said. As she did so, she let go of the .41 caliber derringer she had almost pulled out of her bag.
“Golly gee, Pa!” Wes shouted in pure excitement. “I never saw you fight like that! I never saw anybody fight like that!”
“It’s better not to fight if you can avoid it, son,” Shawn said. He glanced at Abby. “But sometimes, if you’re fighting for the right reason, it’s something a fella’s got to do.”
Chapter 7
Wes jabbered so much on the way back out to the ranch that Shawn almost snapped at him a time or two and told him to pipe down. He managed to keep his annoyance under control, though.
Abby, on the other hand, was unusually quiet. Shawn still worried that that varmint Banning had hurt her somehow, but when he started to ask her about it again she assured him that she was all right.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there when that no-good son of a...when Banning started bothering you,” he said. “If I had been, he wouldn’t have dared to come near you.”
“I’m not sure about that. He might have tried to goad you into a fight, anyway.” Abby paused. “He and his friend both wear guns. You don’t.”
“Never needed one except for snakes and panthers and critters like that. I wouldn’t have let Banning prod me into a gunfight, that’s for sure.”
“Well, I’m glad to hear that. You have too much to live for to risk getting shot. I mean, what with raising Wes and all.”
He wondered why she had added that last sentence. Did she think he had something else to live for besides his son?
Maybe if things had been different, that might have been true.
That evening at the ranch, after supper, Shawn began to wonder if Wes was ever going to settle down enough to go to sleep.
The boy was still excited about witnessing the brawl in the store. It was all he could talk about, having driven even thoughts of Christmas out of his head.
Finally, exhaustion claimed the youngster. After insisting through several gigantic yawns that he wasn’t tired, no, sir, not at all, Wes stumbled off to bed. Abby went with him to tuck him in, as she had done a couple of times before, and when she came back, she smiled at Shawn and said, “You really made a big impression on your son today.”
Shawn was sitting by the fireplace. Even though the weather had been nicer the past few days, the nights were still chilly and a fire felt good. He said, “How’d I do that, by brawling like some sort of roughneck?”
“Like you told him, if the cause is just, sometimes fighting isn’t such a bad thing. Besides, a boy likes to know that his father can handle trouble if it comes up.”
“Yeah. And if he can’t, they can always run away.”
Abby frowned, evidently puzzled by that comment, and Shawn wished he hadn’t said anything. There was no point in dragging her into their problems.
She didn’t ask him what he was talking about. She just went over to the table and blew out the lamp that was burning there. The light from the fireplace was enough as she moved toward the other rocking chair and sat down.
Shawn leaned over, picked up a poker, and stretched out to stir up the fire a little. As he did, pain twinged in his back and shoulders, and he couldn’t prevent a brief grimace from crossing his face.
Abby saw it and asked, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing to worry about,” he said as he propped the poker against the rock side of the fireplace. “I’m just a mite banged up from that tussle. Banning landed pretty hard on me. I’ve got some bruises, I reckon.”
“Do you have any liniment? If you don’t tend to injuries like that, your muscles will stiffen up and be really sore.”
“You know all about injuries from fighting, do you?”
“I’ll have you know I grew up with three brothers, and they were always getting into fights with each other and the other boys in the neighborhood. So yes, I know about bruises and scrapes and things like that, even broken bones.”
A Mail-Order Christmas Bride Page 4