Dillinger grunted. "I'd sell it to you."
Pierre and Bradley stared at him over raised spoons.
"You would?" Bradley asked.
He nodded. "I don't want to be here. It's time for me to move somewhere else. Maybe California."
Pierre blinked, his handlebar mustache drooping. "And your cattle?"
Dillinger put his spoon down, realizing exactly what he was going to do. "I'm selling it all, lock, stock and barrel. The whole thing. I want to start over, somewhere far away from here."
Pierre and Bradley looked at each other. "Want to go into business?" Bradley asked. "I'm still a bit of a greenhorn, but between the two of us, we could probably make a good go of it."
"That's true," Pierre said. "Unless you think you'll disappear one day. I can't run this place by myself. I'm not the loner that Dillinger is."
Dillinger thought he would give his soul to never be lonely again.
"I think I have to want to disappear," Bradley said, sending a sheepish look toward Dillinger. "I really wanted to find Auburn before, and I had the earring she'd left behind in the hotel room. I really don't want to find her now, and even if I did, I don't have a talisman to make me travel."
"We never knew if the earring was what made it all happen," Dillinger mused.
"And I think you're all cracked," Pierre said, "but your secret's safe with me because no one would ever believe me, anyway."
That was true. There were days when Dillinger wondered if he'd only imagined holding tiny Rose and loving Auburn.
But then he'd think about how happy they'd made him, and he knew he hadn't imagined a thing.
He just wanted it all back.
He laid the earring on the table. They all stared at it as it shone in the bright candlelight.
"It's yours if you want it," he told Bradley. "You really don't know how hard these winters are. If this earring is a ticket to the future, you're the one who should have it."
"I'm staying in Christmas River. Pierre can show me everything I need to know," Bradley answered. "I feel like I was meant to be here. Maybe there's even a woman here for me. In the spring, perhaps Pierre will take me to town, introduce me around." Bradley stuck out a hand for Dillinger to shake. "Pierre and I will take good care of everything."
Dillinger nodded and shook Bradley's hand. "You'll find a new sleigh in the barn, Pierre, better than your last one."
"I'll take that, but I don't want the earring, either," Pierre said. "My sister adored them. She would have wanted you to do with them as you wish. But I do not need a keepsake of her." He smiled, sadly. "I have my good memories, and that's all I need now."
"Try it, Dillinger," Bradley urged. "What have you got to lose?"
Pierre nodded. "God hates a coward," he said simply.
Dillinger stared at the golden earring with the tiny bells. He didn't really believe the earring was his magic ticket. He knew there were magic carpets and genies in bottles in books, but this was real life, and a practical man understood that harsh reality was the way of the world. "I don't believe in it," he said. "My destiny was to take Rose to a good mother. I was only the bridge."
"You don't know that for certain," Bradley insisted.
"It's not good to live off old memories," Pierre added. "At least give it a try."
Dillinger glanced at the fireplace where he'd sat many times in front of a roaring blaze. He looked at his favorite books on the ledge, and the two rocking chairs nearby. He gazed at the Christmas tree Auburn had decorated with such love, such hope. And then he looked at Polly's self-portrait in the tiny frame. She seemed to smile at him.
Polly had always encouraged him. But he was afraid to dream that he and Auburn were meant to be together.
"I don't know how to believe in anything but hard work," Dillinger said.
"How did it happen before?" Pierre asked. "Were you holding it? What did you do when you went to Auburn last time?"
"I was thinking about Polly, and I laid her earring on the writing desk," Dillinger said slowly. His fingers closed tightly over the earring. "And then I heard a cry on the wind, a baby's cry, as impossible as that seemed, so I opened the door and I—"
Sudden wind snuffed out the two candles on the table.
The room was enveloped in darkness.
"I've got it," Bradley said, lighting the candle nearest him.
"I'll light this one." Pierre struck a match and held it to the candle at the other end. Bradley looked at Pierre, and Pierre looked at Bradley. Then they looked at the empty chair, and the fire in the hearth that had blown out with a great puff of white smoke, and the evening stars shining bright as diamonds through the window.
Bradley said, "You know, one day they're going to put a man on the moon, just that easily."
"You have quite the imagination, my friend, which is good for long winters," Pierre replied. And then they laughed and went back to eating the delicious chili, not worried at all about the future.
Chapter Eighteen
The two-branched candelabra at the dinner table suddenly blew out with an emphatic poof! A faint tinkle of bells sounded, and then there was a crash in the McGinnis dining room.
"Goodness!" Barbara exclaimed.
"Someone must have opened a couple of doors," Cherie suggested.
"Or maybe a gust came down the chimney," Charles said.
They all glanced at the stone fireplace in the living room. A fire burned merrily behind an elaborate scrolled grating. The Christmas tree, bright with all its silver and gold trimmings, twinkled with tiny white lights.
"We should check the fireplace," Barbara said. "I'd hate for a spark to jump out on the rug."
The entire family got up from the table to go do so.
"I don't see anything," Auburn said, but a chill ran over her arms.
"I don't, either," Cherie retorted.
Rose lay in a huge white playpen swathed with lacy white bumper pads and cushiony quilts. She was asleep, contentedly sucking on her thumb, her little bottom raised in the air as she slept. Tiny booted feet poked out from underneath a white blanket.
"She doesn't seem to have been bothered by whatever that gust was," Barbara said with a fond smile.
The chills stayed with Auburn, intensifying. Surely she wasn't about to time travel! She wanted to stay here with her family. Below the penthouse was her own apartments, and below that, Cherie's, while McGinnis Perfumes had the fourth floor down for its marble-lined offices. Auburn wanted to stay where she knew Rose would have a good life. She needed time to nurse her broken heart. She needed time to learn how to become a good mother.
Yet the chills gripped her. She reached into the pocket of her white evening pants, feeling for the earring, realized it was gone.
She wasn't going to travel. Maybe she'd picked up a small space-bug from all the jaunting across the centuries.
"Are you all right, Auburn?" Cherie asked. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
"I'm fine," she said, and then they all stopped.
Listened.
Heard it again.
A baby's cry.
"It's coming from outside," Auburn said, wondering how anyone could have gotten up to their floor without them buzzing a visitor through.
"Be careful," Charles said, "we really should have Security check outside first."
Auburn slowly opened the front door—and then smiled.
Dillinger lay on the doormat as if he'd been gunned down by a gunslinger. But he was smiling, his eyes lighting up when he saw Auburn. "I missed the chimney," he said. "I was hoping to do a Saint Nick-style appearance."
She helped him up, threw her arms around his neck. "We have a roaring fire in the fireplace," she whispered against his cheek.
"Good thing I missed, then," he said against her hair.
They could have held each other for an eternity.
Behind them Cherie said, "Oh, wow, it's Jesse James," and Auburn smiled. Dillinger did look like something out of an Old West postcard, si
nfully handsome enough to turn any female's head in the big city.
"Come in and meet the family," Auburn invited, and he removed his cowboy hat. "Mom, Dad, Cherie, this is Dillinger Kent."
"Welcome," Charles told him. "Something tells me the little Rosebud in there will be awfully glad to see you when she awakens from her nap."
Barbara McGinnis beamed at Dillinger. "Welcome to the family," she said. "Come in and make yourself at home. I hope you're planning on staying for Christmas dinner."
Dillinger's face was solemn as he gazed into Auburn's eyes. "Bradley says he believes we had to want to travel. Wanting to is the key."
"Oh, we don't listen to Bradley anymore," Cherie said.
Dillinger held Auburn's eyes with his, knowing the answer he had to have. "You weren't running from me?"
"God, no!" Auburn threw her arms around him again. "I'm in love with you, Dillinger Kent. If anything, I would have run to you. But never away." She softly touched his face. "You're not angry that I took Rose?"
He kissed her, a light, intimate brush with his lips that conveyed his emotions. "I trust you with her life."
Joy enveloped Auburn, replacing all the worry, all the doubt she'd held inside.
Dillinger nodded at the McGinnises. "I'm staying as long as Auburn will have me. I love her."
Auburn's heart glowed inside her. The chills were erased by a warmth she couldn't explain, warmth she knew would never go away as long as she was by Dillinger's side. She put her hand in his. "Then you'll be staying forever," she said softly, and led him into the living room so he could hold his daughter in his arms. He picked up his child, and baby and father grinned at each other, perfectly delighted, a matched pair. Then Dillinger reached for Auburn, pulling her into his embrace, and she knew just how long their time together was meant to last.
They were a family—forever.
Epilogue
"Now this is a fantasy come true," Auburn said, gazing at Dillinger. Over his protests, she'd talked him into wearing a pair of black trunks, but he'd given up complaining once he saw other men dressed in swim trunks. Auburn appreciated the swimwear on her husband—she would never get tired of looking at his strong, sexy body. Under the bright Hawaiian sun, smelling the ocean breezes and soaking up warmth, she'd spent a week watching her cowboy turn dark brown and more gorgeous by the minute.
"I'm still not used to everyone seeing you in this garment you call a bathing suit," Dillinger said, nibbling on her neck as he leaned over her on the chaise longue. "But the weather here is so nice that I almost feel sorry for Pierre and Bradley."
"Don't be. They got the ending they wanted, and it was a happy one," Auburn said, enjoying him caressing her back as she lay on her stomach. "Smell the coconut oil and be glad to eat the island cooking. It's better than mine." She smiled as he poured more suntan oil onto her back, taking his time about rubbing it into her skin.
"Are you sure Rose is all right at your parents'?" Dillinger asked for the tenth time that week.
"You know, you can use that new iPhone to text Mom and Dad and ask." Auburn smiled. "Rose is fine. I think she's a spoiled princess, and when we get home, she'll probably be insufferable."
Barbara, Charles and Cherie had jumped at the chance to have little Rose to themselves for two weeks while Dillinger and Auburn honeymooned. Dillinger had been eager to fly on a jet—real traveling, he called it—and so after their wedding in New York City, surrounded by friends and family, Auburn had gifted him with a surprise honeymoon to Hawaii.
He'd been utterly fascinated by the whole experience, a kid in a candy store.
And when they'd landed in the beach paradise, he'd been awestruck.
"Do you think you'll like working for my father?" Auburn turned her cowboy over, began to rub suntan oil into his muscled skin, enjoying the task at hand, taking her time. It was making it really hard to wait to get him back to the room after supper, but she couldn't bear to drag him out of the sun just yet. For a man who'd hated Decembers, Dillinger was beginning to fall for the enchantment of Christmas and the whole winter season. He enjoyed lying in the sun, and Auburn loved looking at him. "Hey, bronze god," she said, "you don't have to work for Dad if you don't want to. Although he says you're just what the company needs."
Dillinger grinned slowly and sensuously. Her heart pounded as she recognized the promise in his smile. "Don't worry. Bottles of perfume are much easier to handle than a thousand head of cattle. I'm excited to travel around the world on one of those big planes and sell beautiful women things to make them smell pretty."
She lightly smacked his arm, laughing at his teasing words. "I still think you'd be happier living on a ranch," she said, but Dillinger shook his head.
"Let me get tired of living in the picturebook of New York City first," he told her. "I'm enjoying the feeling of never being alone. I look out the windows, down at the sidewalks, and I see people. I'm enjoying sushi restaurants and Starbucks. It's your world, and I like it."
She smiled contentedly. They touched hands, curled their fingers together and lay on their chaises, enjoying the sun. "You know, I've searched for Christmas River on the computer a hundred times, but I can't ever get it to come up. Yet I know it was there," Auburn said.
He shook his head. "Don't ask me what happened to Christmas River. I can't even figure out if it was the earrings or Rose that brought us together."
"Polly," Auburn said. "I always thought it was Polly who did that."
He kissed Auburn's hand, nibbled her fingertips. "I found her picture in the pocket of my duster, but I know for certain I didn't take it off the writing desk."
Auburn smiled. "I'm glad. Rose will want to see it one day." She thought about how to make her confession, and then said, "Dillinger, I never told you that Polly had a journal."
"In the writing desk."
"Yes."
He grinned. "Who do you think built the desk and the secret hiding place?"
She laughed. "Polly wrote that she loved you. You knew all along you could prove your innocence!"
He shrugged his rock-hard shoulders. "I didn't care to. I answer to no one but myself." He sent Auburn another devilish grin. "And maybe now…Rose."
She wouldn't tell him Polly's secret, Auburn decided. Some things were best left in the past, preserved in a time capsule, never to be opened. She arched a brow. "Speaking of answering for things…do you remember when I told you I wear a little device inside that keeps me from getting pregnant?"
"Yes, and I don't like the thought of it," he said, scowling. "It's not a part of modern medicine I wish to be employed in our home."
She flashed her own devilish smile. "I have a doctor's appointment when we get back to have it—"
"Good," he interrupted, kissing her long and slowly. "Rose needs brothers and sisters. We should work on that as soon as possible."
Auburn giggled. "We'll practice often."
"We may practice now."
"I love you, Dillinger Kent." When he kissed her hand, pressing her palm to his lips, she shivered, knowing exactly what those lips were capable of.
"Mrs. Kent, woman of my heart and of my dreams," Dillinger murmured, "can I show you to your room for some before-dinner refreshment?"
She nodded. "That would make me a happy wife, Mr. Kent. And later tonight, I plan on reading you a very romantic bedtime story."
He helped her up. Then he took her by the hand and they walked together up the beach, under skies that were just beginning to soften with sunset.
Some places, like Christmas River, were heaven in different points in time. She and Dillinger would always hold that special place in their hearts. And being together was certainly heaven on earth, for all the many blessed and wonderful Christmases to come.
ISBN: 978-1-4268-4327-3
THE COWBOY FROM CHRISTMAS PAST
Copyright © 2009 by Tina Leonard.
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in
part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario M3B 3K9, Canada.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
The Cowboy from Christmas Past Page 15