“Two, now that I’ve combined our stock.” He grinned. “Breakfast smells good.”
“Flapjacks and bacon.” His presence made the dugout that much smaller. How would they make it through the winter with three people in such a tight space? “Sit. It’s about ready.”
Maybe she could make cheese to sell at the mercantile. No, the long trek into town wouldn’t make that practical. She smiled. For once, she’d have more food than three people could eat. The West truly was a land of milk and honey.
“I’ll wake May.” Drake gently shook her shoulder. “Time to rise and shine, sweetheart. After breakfast, I’ll work on a shed for the supplies,” he said, turning to Annie. “I’ll have to use some of the wood intended for the cabin, but with Bill’s gold, we can replace the wood easily enough.”
Annie’s hand stilled, spatula suspended over the flapjacks. Had Drake married her for the gold? Her heart sank. Too late to back out now. He’d known Bill better than she had anyway. He had as much of a right to it as she did, if you didn’t factor in that she had been Bill’s wife. She’d never laid eyes on the man. She sure would like to be loved for herself though. Someday, God willing.
She sighed and slid the flapjack onto a plate. “That’s fine. I’m going to unpack my trunk and work on making this hole in the ground look more like a home.” Annie smiled at May. “And we’ll go looking for greenery to decorate with.”
“Why?” Drake set his fork on his plate and glanced around the room. “Isn’t it small enough in here without adding unnecessary things?”
“I’ve been looking forward to a real Christmas for years.” What if Drake thought celebrating was a waste of time? She slumped in her seat. Pa hadn’t liked holidays, but Bill’s letters said he had. Annie should have known better than to get her hopes up.
“Are you wanting a tree, too?”
“Yes, even if only a small one.” She tipped her head toward May. “I doubt she’s ever had a Christmas. Look how excited she is.” The little girl’s eyes were as large as owl eyes, and she transferred her attention from Annie to Drake and back so fast that Annie thought her head might fall off.
“You can’t be excited about something you’ve never had.”
“Just a small tree in the center of the table.” Annie wasn’t going to budge on decorating. No matter how small the space, there was always something that could be done. She forked a bite of flapjack and lifted it to her mouth, her gaze not leaving Drake’s face.
He ate like a man who hadn’t eaten in weeks, shoveling the food into his mouth as fast as possible, glancing out the window every few seconds.
Despite the rumbling of his stomach, Drake dreaded mealtimes in the dugout. Now that he was hitched, he wouldn’t ask to eat outside anymore, for risk of hurting Annie’s feelings. But now the crazy woman wanted to take up more valuable space with frilly decorations. His leg jerked up and down, bumping the table.
“What is that noise?” Annie bent to peer over the table.
Drake put his hand on his leg to still it. “I didn’t hear anything.”
“Are you feeling closed in right now? The sun is streaming through the window.”
A slit of a window barely big enough for a rifle barrel. “I’m fine. Tell me why decorating for the holidays is so important to you.” Anything to take his mind off the walls closing in.
“When I was real little, we celebrated, but then life got tough. Pa took to drink, and anything happy or frivolous flew out the window.” Annie reached over and refilled Drake’s coffee with a white speckled pot. “During my correspondence with Bill, he said he liked the holidays. I got my hopes up is all. We don’t have to.”
A tremor in her words belied the bravado. There was no way Drake could let the holidays go uncelebrated now. Not if it meant he’d hurt her feelings. He reached across the table and placed his hand over hers. “Do what you want.”
Tears filled her eyes. Drake stood and fled outside. Nothing scared him more than a woman’s tears.
Having a woman around to cook and serve him with a smile was nice, but Drake missed his own homestead. It hadn’t escaped him that with his land and Annie’s, they were quite wealthy. Not to mention Bill’s pouch of gold. Yep, they were sitting pretty.
He selected the lumber he would need for the shed and located Bill’s saw between the pig shelter and the fence. Sometimes the man stuck things in the oddest places or left them where he’d used them last. It might take Drake months to get the place operating correctly. Maybe he should consider hiring an extra hand, if they had a place for the man to sleep. Someone to help him make improvements, care for the stock, and build a cabin.
He grinned. The place was turning into a regular ranch. Between the two of them, they had approximately fifty head of cattle, three pigs, five chickens, a dog, and a family. Something Drake didn’t think he’d have for a while yet, if ever.
After measuring the space for a shed a bit smaller than the dugout they called home, he hammered a simple frame together and then cut a hole for a door. If the shed was as warm as the dugout usually was in the winter, he’d suggest they move into it and get above ground. Dugouts felt too much like a grave. But, the wind would tear at the shed.
Scout sniffed around him as he worked. Then the dog stiffened and barked.
Drake studied the horizon. A lone figure of a horseman stood silhouetted against the sun. Drake still didn’t know for sure why Hayward didn’t shoot to kill. After all, with him and Annie gone, the land and stock would go up for sale. Most likely, a man could get them for next to nothing. He switched his attention as Annie and May came out of the dugout.
More than likely, she would make good on her promise to find some greenery. With Christmas only two weeks away, he figured she’d want to get it done before too much snow fell.
His heart stopped. Winter meant long days indoors. A lot of time spent in the dugout. He was doubly grateful for his new coat, knowing he’d use every available moment to step outside to work, no matter what the temperature.
By the time he started nailing boards to form the shed’s doors, Annie and May had returned from the woods with their arms full of evergreen boughs. Drake glanced back at the horizon. Another silhouette joined the first.
Annie glanced that way then at him, before ushering May back into the dugout. She returned within minutes with her rifle cradled in her arms, instead of the evergreens, and marched in the direction of the unwanted visitors.
“What are you doing?” Drake stood.
“I’m going to send them on their way.”
“No you’re not.” He took the gun from her. “They’re likely to shoot you.”
“Not if I shoot them first.” She crossed her arms. “We shouldn’t have to worry about folks watching every move we make.”
Sweet one minute and like a caged boar the next. Drake had no idea living with a woman could be so interesting. “You can’t go getting yourself killed. You have May to think of.”
“I do.” She nodded. “If something should happen to me, like it did to Bill, I want you to take her.” She reached for the rifle.
Drake held it over his head. “Stop it. You’re acting loco.”
“I could just take it from you.” Her eyes flashed. She was prettier than a snow-filled winter night.
His mouth crooked. “How do you reckon?”
She opened her mouth to say something, snapped it shut instead, and kicked his shin. The toe of her boots sent a shard of pain rippling through him. He loosened his grip. She jumped, grabbed the rifle, and continued her march toward the men.
The little wildcat. Drake rubbed his shin and then followed, grabbing his gun from where he had leaned it against the pigpen. “Have you always been this stubborn?” he asked, catching up with her.
“Most likely.” She strode right up to the men and took aim. “What are you doing on my land?”
“We’re outside the boundary fence,” one of them replied.
“You’re too close. What do you wa
nt?” Annie cocked the hammer. “Answer carefully if you don’t want to meet your maker today.”
She was going to get them killed. Drake stepped next to her, holding his gun loose at his side. “I’d do what she says, men. She isn’t one to listen to reason.”
“Hush,” Annie hissed out the corner of her mouth. “You’re not helping.”
“And you’re plumb crazy. My leg hurts.”
“You shouldn’t have taken my gun.” She glared at him, lowering her guard.
He whipped the rifle from her hands. “Go on, men. Git. Tell Hayward we’re not selling.”
“There are ways to make you.”
Drake shrugged, not taking his eyes off Annie’s red face. “Yep, I’m sure there are.”
Annie planted her fists on her hips. “You tell Hayward that if he shows his face around here, I’ll shoot him.” She lowered her voice and stepped closer to Drake. “But I won’t really. I just want to scare him.” She whirled and stormed back to the dugout.
Drake burst out laughing as the men rode away. A little bitty thing like her, scare a man like Hayward? He doubted it, but he’d like to see her in a face-off with the man. If guns weren’t involved, that is. He had a feeling he’d miss the feisty Annie if something happened to her.
Of course, with her spirit, and if he were a betting man, Drake might just have to put his money on Annie winning.
Chapter 6
Drake stopped at the door to the dugout and peered inside. The place had been transformed. Green swags covered every surface they could lie on. Pinecones and red ribbons were scattered among the greenery.
The room didn’t look as crowded as he’d feared. Instead, Annie had managed to bring the great outdoors inside.
Colorful quilts lay across both bunks. A crocheted runner ran down the center of the table. A two-foot pine tree took center stage, stuck in an empty coffee can. The place looked like Christmas. Like a home. Drake didn’t have a clue how to react. He turned and dashed back outside.
His growling stomach could wait. He dropped to a stump and placed his head in his hands. What was the matter with him? First, he’d blamed his caginess on the dugout, but that wasn’t the truth. Annie made him nervous, plain and simple. The way she looked up at him with those sparkling hazel eyes, the curve to her lips, the dusting of freckles—it was enough to make a man crazy. Not to mention the little snuffling sounds she made in her sleep.
Annie’s heart sank. Drake hated the decorations. If not for the smile on May’s face, she’d take everything down this minute. She sliced the fresh loaf of bread for sandwiches. Eventually he’d come back for lunch. After all, he did the work of two men and needed sustenance.
Sighing, she placed slabs of ham between the bread and handed it to May. “I’m going to take your new pa’s lunch out to him. You stay here and eat. I’ll be right back.”
“Yes, Mama.” May dutifully took a bite.
Annie’s heart swelled. Mama. What a wonderful word. Maybe someday she’d hear the word wife fall from Drake’s lips.
She found him slumped on a log. “Here’s your lunch.”
“Thank you.” He exhaled loudly, sending her heart to the ground, and accepted the plate with two sandwiches.
“I apologize if I overdid the holidays. Would you like me to remove some decorations?” She twisted her hands together. “May is thrilled, but if it bothers you…”
He held up a hand. “It isn’t the decorations.”
“Then it’s me.” She forced the words past her frozen lips. Her husband disliked her, couldn’t stand to be around her. “I’ll let you be as much as possible. I know you felt you had to marry me, but…” She turned to leave.
He reached out a hand and grasped her elbow. “It isn’t you. Please, sit and have one of the sandwiches.”
She faced him, studying the grave intensity in his blue eyes. His brown hair curled over his collar. What would it feel like to run her fingers through those silky strands? Would he push her away or close his eyes and lean closer?
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.” He handed her one of the sandwiches. “I see you unpacked your trunk. The dugout looks wonderful. A woman’s touch makes all the difference. Please don’t change anything on my account.”
Confusion filled her mind. She took a bite of her food and stared at the almost finished shed. The wood gleamed new against the weathered boards of the chicken coop and pigpen. “Where will you build the cabin?”
“At first, I thought about building on the boundary line, but I like the idea of being closer to the creek. How about moving the corral fencing and putting the house where the horses are now?” He fixed his gaze on her.
Did he really want to know her opinion? No one had ever cared before. She looked at her land with new eyes. “I love that stand of birch. In the springtime, the green leaves will be so pretty against the white trunks. Can we build it there? That isn’t far from where you’d planned.”
Drake looked in the direction she mentioned. “I think that’s a wonderful idea. We could call our ranch Birchwood. I’ll make a branding iron to fit the name.”
“Birchwood.” She liked it. She cast a shy glance at Drake. “It sounds fancy.”
He set his plate on the ground then leaned back on his arms. “This will be one of the finest ranches in northern Arizona in a few years. Why shouldn’t it have a fancy name? I’ll build us the finest two-story cabin you’ve ever laid eyes on. May will be the spoiled princess of our kingdom. When she grows up, no man will be good enough for her, and I’ll meet them all at the door with my shotgun.” He chuckled then stood. “Enough daydreaming, I’ve lots of work before the day is done, and I want to check the fence line.”
She watched him go, his back strong and straight. Sure, May would be spoiled, and already the little girl owned a piece of Annie’s heart, but Annie had always thought God would bless her with many children.
Was it wanton to crave Drake’s arms around her? To wonder about the true physical side of marriage? She sighed and picked up the empty plate. She ought to be grateful she’d married a kind man, even if she did have suspicions regarding his interest in the gold. Things could have been worse. She could have been stuck with a fat man who hit her. But it sure would be nice if Drake didn’t try to avoid her so often.
She’d liked their conversation about the ranch and wanted more enjoyable times together. Maybe she could draw him out at supper. Ask him more about his plans for their future. And maybe, if she had a moment of bravery, she’d tell him about hers.
What a fool he was! Annie sat there next to him, willing to share his lunch, and he’d babbled on about a romantic name for the ranch. What was wrong with him? Ranches didn’t need romantic names. This was the wilds of Arizona.
He needed to get away and do some thinking. He headed to the corral, saddled his horse, and decided to ride the split-rail fence, checking for spots that needed fixing. A cold wind picked up, and he pulled his coat tight, thankful for Annie’s thoughtfulness.
Until he’d gotten himself hitched, he hadn’t realized how lonely he’d been. Seeing Bill occasionally and the rare visits to town didn’t satisfy like the company of a woman. God sure knew what He was doing when He’d made women.
At one section of fence, Drake dismounted and studied the broken rail. To his trained eye, it was clear it had been sawed through. Had it been springtime and the cattle grazing a larger area of the ranch, most of Annie’s stock would have disappeared in a very short time. He tried to remember whether Bill had ever told him how many head of cattle he’d owned. The last time he’d checked, Drake had counted only fifty.
Was that how Hayward planned on running them out? By rustling the cattle? Drake almost expected to see Hayward and his men gallop over the nearest hill. Instead, the horizon contained nothing but trees and heavy gray clouds.
Looked like rain. Drake shivered and tugged up the collar of his coat. He’d best head home before the sky unleashed its burden.
H
e straightened. A blow to the back of his head drove him back to his knees. Darkness overtook him.
With the thickest of the two quilts wrapped around her, Annie stood in the doorway of the dugout and watched for Drake. A slow rain fell, chilling the air and increasing her worry.
Night had fallen an hour ago. Suppertime had come and gone.
Drake had said the decorations didn’t bother him. Had he lied? Had he left to do a chore and decided to keep riding? No, that wasn’t possible. Not for an honorable man like Drake. But really, how well did Annie know him?
He’d combined the ranches without consulting her—not that it was a bad thing—made plans to wed her without a proper proposal, and mentioned the gold at regular intervals. She shook her head. Drake Carter was not out to harm her and take what belonged to her. Something else was wrong.
She hurried back into the dugout and grabbed her coat. “May, we’ve got to go look for your pa. Put your coat and mittens on, please.” Annie grabbed her rifle and filled her pockets with ammunition before rushing May out of the house.
Please, God, let him be safe. Once she’d saddled her horse, she hefted May into the saddle and climbed on behind her. She’d follow the fence line, like Drake had said he would earlier.
The rain fell harder, soaking through her coat. Annie hunched over May, trying to keep the little girl as dry as possible. Why hadn’t they found him yet? They’d long since passed the halfway mark on the property line, and night had erased day, leaving them riding through inky darkness. How would they ever find him?
Despair threatened to choke her, and Annie pressed against May, taking comfort from her presence. Surely God hadn’t made her a widow twice in less than a month.
Wait. Drake’s horse stood, head hanging, under a tree. On the ground next to the fence was a bump on the ground that was quickly covering with snow.
Annie guided her horse to his and slid to the ground. The bump wasn’t a mar in the landscape but Drake, who didn’t move when she approached him. “Drake?”
A Pioneer Christmas Collection Page 28