Enchanted Christmas

by Craig, Emma

  As if he needed reminding.

  Percy Wiggins was as sour and sarcastic today as he ever was. Sourer, perhaps, because his office had flooded during the storm, and he’d had to shovel a ton of mud out of it this morning. Noah got the feeling Wiggins didn’t enjoy manual labor very much.

  “Yes, you received an answer to your telegram.” Wiggins scowled as he slapped it onto the counter. Noah wondered if the answer was that terrible, or if Wiggins merely disliked having to perform the duties for which he was being paid.

  “Thanks.”

  Percy Wiggins snorted. Noah presumed it was his version of you’re welcome.”

  He took the wire outside and opened it while he stood in mud caking under the sun’s rays. The winter sun shining down on Rio Hondo didn’t make the weather warm. A frigid wind almost ripped the message out of Noah’s hands.

  When he read it, his heart fell to his boots. Son of a bitch. It looked like he could get that land after all.

  Noah pondered his options long and hard as he walked back to McMurdo’s Wagon Yard. He could do the honorable thing and leave; take this wire and hightail it out of Rio Hondo and forget the whole thing. He could make another offer for the land without bringing up the news contained in the cabled message. He could renew his offer of marriage.

  The last option made him snort sarcastically and tell himself not to be any more of a damned fool than he could help being. Grace Richardson would be an idiot to marry him. Hell, even if she did lower herself to take him, Noah wasn’t sure he wanted to compete with the angelic Frank for the rest of his unnatural life. No matter what he did, he was sure to come up short when compared to a damned martyred saint.

  “Aw, to hell with it.”

  If he was destined to live and die alone and despised by the rest of the world, he might as well do it where he chose. He might hate himself forever, but he figured the chances of that were better than even no matter what he did.

  This way, at least he’d know exactly when Grace’s good opinion of him—if she had one—changed to loathing. He was going to go to her right now, in fact, and watch it happen.

  # # #

  Grace looked up from where she sat behind the counter of Mac’s mercantile, and gave him a beautiful smile. Noah tried to smile back, but wasn’t up to it. The freezing wind whistling through the fence slats outside the snug store had nothing on him. He felt as cold as it was, and then some.

  “Good morning, Noah. We missed you at breakfast.”

  He tried to discern accusation in her expression or her words, but didn’t. Hell, he wouldn’t blame her if she hated him already. After all, he might be said to have seduced her and then run out on her. At any rate, he guessed that’s what he had done. Yesterday’s events were mixed up in his mind, and he wasn’t sure. However they’d ended up naked there on the bank of the Pecos River, he was sure it had been all his fault.

  “Good morning, Grace. I was—” He was what? He decided to tell her the truth. “I was feeling a little shaky this morning, so I ate with my horse.”

  Telling the truth seemed to free him, and he discovered he could smile after all.

  “I’m sorry, but I understand.” She looked down at the counter, and Noah realized she was reading a book. “At least, I don’t really understand—not what you went through. But I understand your need to get away sometimes. Your need for solitude.”

  “Thanks.”

  Good glory, it was a Bible. She was reading the Bible. Shoot, what did that mean? Was she looking for a chapter and verse that would excuse what they’d done yesterday? Noah didn’t think there were any passages in the Bible rationalizing fornication, although his knowledge of the Good Book was limited. He nodded at the book.

  “Reading that for fun?”

  She gave him another smile. Lordy, her smiles could last a man for months. Which was a good thing, in his case. “I feel the need to commune with the apostles every now and then. Although, I must say I wished they’d used plain old language. I find this very difficult to understand sometimes.” She tapped the book.

  “Reckon that’s the translation, ma’am.”

  She chuckled. “I imagine you’re right. Do you suppose anyone will ever translate the Bible into language a plain, modern-day person can understand, or will we be forever doomed to read it the way King James did two hundred and fifty years ago?”

  “Can’t offer an opinion on that one. I’m no theologian.”

  Grace put a pretty, lacy bookmark in the book and closed it with a sigh. “No, I’m not either.” She folded her hands together and rested them on the thick Bible in front of her. “Did you need some supplies, Noah?”

  He loved it that she’d started using his Christian name. He’d never cared one way or another about his name before, but she made it sound good. He forced another grin.

  “Well . . . I don’t suppose you’ve changed your mind about that land out there? I’m willing to offer you a fair price. More than fair. I’ll give you more than the land’s worth, because—because—”

  Because why? He couldn’t think of anything to say that didn’t sound insane. Because he loved her? Shit, she’d really go for that. Because he was crazy? She already knew that. He shrugged and decided to quit while he wasn’t behind yet. “I’ll give you a dollar an acre more than the asking price.” That would pay the late mortgage fees, the back taxes, and she’d have plenty left over for whatever she wanted to do. Hell, he’d even pay the back taxes. The insurance from his burned-out business had left him well-enough off for that.

  Her smile flickered and died. She shook her head. “No. I’m sorry. I won’t sell that land. It’s Maddie’s only link to her father, you see.”

  “Yeah.” Noah couldn’t look her in the eye any longer. His gaze faltered and shifted to the shelves of Mac’s store. He’d lived her long enough to know that supply wagons rumbled in from Amarillo and Santa Fe every week or so, but he still marveled at some of the things Mac stocked.

  “Tins of milk,” he muttered, taking in the sight of a dozen or more cans of milk stacked neatly on a corner shelf. “There much call for tinned milk out here?”

  “People buy it for their children sometimes.”

  His gaze flicked to her again. “Their children? Are there other children in Rio Hondo?”

  “Settlers pass through sometimes, like the Merchants did, often with small children. An Indian woman needed milk for her baby not long back.” Grace’s brow creased, and she looked troubled. “The army doesn’t treat them very well at the reservation, you know. Mac sent over a crate of tinned milk for the children, but not even Mac can feed all the Indian children at the Bosque Redondo.”

  “Doesn’t the Indian Agency see that they get food?”

  Grace heaved a heavy sigh. “Well, there you have to contend with the Indian agents and the ranchers in the area, you see. Some of them are honorable, and I guess some of the Indian agents are honorable too. Not very many, however. It’s pretty well known in these parts that Blackworth sends his worst stock and worst beef to the Indian Agent. Of course, the soldiers at Fort Sumner eat pretty well. It’s evidently all right to give the Indians rotten meat, but not the soldiers.”

  Noah couldn’t think of anything to say. The situation sounded hopeless to him, and he was past wanting to fight for causes, good or otherwise.

  Grace chuffed indignantly. “Why, you’d think they didn’t even consider the Indians human, the way they treat them. It’s a crime, Noah. It’s a real crime, and I hope somebody takes care of it someday.”

  “Do you think that will happen?”

  Her indignation faded into sadness. Noah was sorry to see it. “I don’t know. If women had the vote, I’ll bet you anything we’d at least try to rectify the situation. Women aren’t as happy to see babies starve to death—even Indian babies—as men seem to be.”

  Noah bowed his head. “I watched men starve to death in Andersonville. It was—terrible.”

  Grace slid from her stool, opened the counter, an
d rushed to Noah’s side. “Oh, Noah, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up unhappy memories.”

  Were there any other kind? Noah took the hand she held out to him and kissed it. Yes, there were other kinds. He’d always remember their picnic by the river yesterday, and Grace’s precious body in his arms. He released her hand and shut his eyes. “Maybe you’d better read this, Grace.”

  He handed her the cable. She looked up at him, surprised, then unfolded the paper and began to read. Noah wondered if it was his imagination that made her seem to pale.

  She took a step back, staggered, and he knew it wasn’t his imagination. He caught her before she fell.

  “Grace, I—”

  “No!” She shook him off and steadied herself. “So you went to all the trouble of telegraphing Santa Fe for this information, did you?”

  He nodded. “I like that land, Grace.”

  “You like that land.” She made it sound like a curse. “Well, so do I.”

  He waved his hand toward the paper in her hand, feeling helpless. “But you’re about to lose it.”

  “Not if I can help it.”

  He let a second or two slip by as he wondered what to say next. “Can you help it?” he asked at last. His heart hurt when he saw tears building in her eyes.

  “I don’t know, but I’m doing everything I can.”

  “What happened, Grace? Did your husband mortgage the land? It says here you haven’t paid the taxes since he died.”

  “I’m working on it. I’m trying my best. I’ve even sold preserves, taken in washing, and knitted shawls for those poor women at the Pecos Saloon to supplement the money I make in Mac’s store.”

  “Will it be enough?”

  She took in a gigantic breath and held it for a moment before she let it go in a whoosh. “I don’t know. I don’t know! But I’m trying with every ounce of strength I have in me to keep that land. It’s Frank’s legacy to our daughter, Noah!”

  This was the clincher. He knew she’d hate him now. “Yeah. Well, if I pay the back taxes and catch up with the payments, I can take it over, Grace. The government will let me have it and not give you a cent.”

  She refused to look away from him. “I know. Will you do that?”

  He looked away first. “I don’t know. I want that land.”

  “And you’re willing to get it that way?”

  All at once, her attitude chafed at him. “What way?”

  She waved the wire under his nose. “This way! You’re willing to take the only thing my daughter has because you want it, and you can?”

  “It’s legal. And, damn it, Grace, you won’t be able to work that land even if you can hang onto it! Jesus, don’t you think your daughter would rather have pretty dresses and friends than a piece of dead land?”

  “It’s not dead!”

  Before he heard her today, Noah would have said Grace Richardson didn’t have a scream in her. But she screamed at him. Then she dashed a hand across her eyes, furiously wiping away her tears.

  “It’s not dead! There are trees growing there that Maddie’s father planted! That’s her legacy! It’s all she has left of Frank! It’s all I have left of Frank!”

  “You have Maddie,” Noah said, feeling worse than he’d felt since he was carried out of Andersonville on a stretcher and deposited in the army hospital in Washington. He’d been too weak to feel much of anything then. Now his whole body ached with remorse and determination.

  “I can’t believe you’re going to do this to us.” Her voice had sunk to a whisper.

  He couldn’t believe it either. But he wouldn’t back down. Her plans were flat stupid. Sooner or later she was going to lose that land. At least if he had it, it would sort of still be in the family. Noah would love her for the rest of his life; he knew that without having to think about it. He’d will it to her, free and clear, so that if they all got lucky and he died young, she and Maddie could still have their precious land, bought by their precious Frank. And mortgaged by him so that she couldn’t hold onto it. Damn Frank Richardson.

  Because he felt so awful, he muttered, “Yeah, well I reckon I’m just a son of a bitch.”

  “Yes,” she said. “I guess you are.”

  She whirled around too fast for her balance. Noah guessed she was still reeling from shock because her knees buckled. He caught her before she could fall, and held her tight.

  God, he loved her! He hated himself in that moment more than he’d believed possible. He’d thought he’d sunk to the lowest level a man could sink years before, in Andersonville, but he realized now he’d been wrong.

  When he kissed her, he put every ounce of his love into the kiss. And all the apologies he couldn’t force himself to speak. And every good wish for her and her daughter.

  He nearly keeled over himself, from shock, when she kissed him back.

  # # #

  Shaken and terrified, Grace clung to Noah as if he were her last hope on earth. He felt like a refuge to her in those few seconds—until she realized she was kissing the enemy, the man who was determined to take her refuge away from her.

  She wrenched herself out of his arms and reeled backward, her knees knocking. Pressing the back of her hand to her lips, she whispered, “How could you? How could you?”

  He shrugged. The gesture didn’t look insolent so much as helpless.

  “You don’t know?” Her laugh rang out bitter and brittle, and it didn’t sound like her at all. “You don’t know how you can do what you aim to do? You don’t know how you can destroy a little girl’s only link with her dead father? You don’t know how you can ruin my life forever? Well, I don’t either.”

  “You can still marry me.”

  Grace stared at him, open-mouthed. She couldn’t believe he’d said that. Of all the hollow, empty, miserable things people said to each other every day, those words of Noah’s rang hollowest in Grace’s ears. Noah’s hazel-green eyes seemed to burn in his haggard face. She had no words with which to respond. He held out a hand. Grace saw that it was scarred too. At the moment, Noah Partridge’s wounds meant nothing to her.

  “Grace, I—”

  “Oh, spare me, please! I don’t want to hear it.”

  “Listen, maybe—”

  “No!” She whirled around. Never in her life had she felt so alone or so forsaken. Even when Frank died and she’d felt abandoned, she’d known he hadn’t meant it. For heaven’s sake, no man would wish to be struck and killed by a bolt of lightning.

  But there was no excuse for Noah Partridge. He was deliberately and maliciously planning to strip Grace and Maddie of the land she and Frank had worked so hard and so long for. Noah Partridge was going to take it away from them with no more compunction than he’d feel if he swatted a fly.

  He’d made love to her, and now he was going to ruin her.

  “Grace, can we talk about—”

  “No!” She swung around again, bracing herself on the counter so she wouldn’t fall. She felt light-headed, and her heart pounded so hard her ears rang. “No. I don’t want to listen to anything else you have to say to me, Noah. And to think I thought I loved you.”

  She balled up the wire and flung it at him, and had the satisfaction of seeing the shock on his face before she ran out of the mercantile and into Mac’s house. Thank God, she saw neither Mac nor Maddie, but was able to make it to her room and throw herself onto her bed before she burst into tears.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Noah discovered he was trembling. And his emotions were running mad. He couldn’t sort out which emotion predominated, but he could distinguish shock, lust, rage, sorrow, and compassion. They were mixed up in such a potent blend that it took him three tries before his shaking hand could pick up the crumpled wire from the floor and smooth it out.

  She’d thought she loved him? Him? Noah Partridge? He shook his head, certain he hadn’t heard her right. No one, least of all a woman like Grace Richardson, could love Noah Partridge. Hell, she loved her damned Frank. There was no room in h
er heart for the likes of him.

  He stared at the door out of which Grace had just rushed, and ran her last words over and over again in his brain. They didn’t make sense to him.

  When Maddie entered the room holding her blasted rag doll, he scowled before he could stop himself. If there was one thing he didn’t need right now, it was to confront the little six-year-old girl whose daddy’s legacy he was about to take away. Noah hated himself. It wasn’t a new feeling, but it hurt worse today than it generally did.

  “H’lo, Mr. Noah.”

  As much as he didn’t want to deal with Maddie, Noah couldn’t make himself be unkind to her. Hell, he loved her. He tried to smile. “Good morning, Miss Maddie.”

  “You din’t eat flapjacks with us this morning at breakfast.”

  “No. I—ah—had business in town.”

  Maddie nodded solemnly. “That’s what Mac said.”

  “He did, did he?”

  She nodded again.

  “How’d he know I had business in town?”

  She shrugged. “He just knows things.”

  He just knows things. Noah had observed that before. Today he noticed that Maddie seemed to take Alexander McMurdo’s “just knowing things” in stride. He wished he still had even an iota of the easy acceptance of childhood left in him.

  “See my dolly?” Maddie held out the doll for Noah’s inspection.

  As usual, Noah condemned it as a paltry excuse for a doll. His sister had been given beautiful dolls with wax heads and fancy clothes when she was a kid. This one had obviously been made by Maddie’s mama, out of scraps, yarn, and love. Noah understood now, as he hadn’t before, that Grace wouldn’t spend a dime on anything but keeping that damned land in her life. She surely wouldn’t spend money on a wax-head doll for her daughter. He didn’t know whether to applaud her persistence or condemn her as a fool. She’d taken care to embroider a happy face on the thing, but she must have done so a long time ago. It looked as if Maddie had loved that doll almost to death.