All I Want for Christmas Is a Cowboy

by Jennifer Ryan

  And then she turned and saw Nate shivering, a puddle of melted snow forming all around him on the dirty wood floor.

  “Oh, Nate, I know you want to get out of those wet things, but let me try to start a fire first.”

  To her relief, someone on the Silver Creek Ranch had taken care to keep the cabin stocked with some essentials. Near the big stone hearth, firewood was stacked—not a lot, but maybe there was more outside—and wooden matches on the mantel. A stack of twigs would serve as kindling, and there were even a bunch of old newspapers tied with string. The wind howled and rattled the windowpanes, and she picked up her pace. Her dad had taught her to make a fire long ago, so she felt competent to align crumpled paper and kindling to form a teepee, even though her fingers were numb and clumsy with the cold. She lit a fire in a few places with a match, then tended it carefully, occasionally blowing, until she felt there were enough embers to lay on some bigger logs.

  “Come on over here, Nate, and stand near the fire. Start taking your coat off.”

  But his fingers were clumsy, too, and she had to help him unzip the long, one-piece snowsuit.

  “I’m too old for this suit,” he mumbled, lips shivering.

  She laughed, feeling giddy after everything they’d gone through. “It still fits you, Nate. I’ll buy you a brand-new one next year, I promise.”

  She brought over all the chairs and even the table, then began to hang their outer clothes over them. He was wearing a sweat suit, but it was damp through, and so were her own corduroys and turtleneck. Their clothes weren’t going to dry on their bodies.

  “Stay near the fire, honey, and I’ll see if we can find something to wear.”

  There were deep wooden bins, and shelves that took the place of a bureau. Besides canned goods—thank God!—she found old checkered blankets, dusty and mildewy by the smell of them. Holding them up, she looked for telltale holes, but bugs hadn’t gotten to them. She shook them out as best she could.

  “We’re going to be Romans today and wear togas, Nate. You ready to play?”

  His grin was back. “Sure. What’s a toga?”

  She told him to strip out of his clothes. He’d gotten to that awkward stage of not wanting to be naked in front of his mom, so she held up the blanket while he took off his underwear. Then she wrapped the blanket around him and made a big knot at his shoulder.

  His little nose wrinkled. “It smells.”

  “I know, but as soon as your clothes dry, you’ll be able to put them back on.”

  “Are you going to wear a gota, too?”

  “Toga,” she said, chuckling. “And yes I will. Mind keeping your back turned while I change?”

  “Sure. Can I poke the fire with a stick?”

  She hesitated. “Why don’t you just look at the fire until I’m done? Then I’ll show you how you can stoke it, okay?”

  He sighed. “Okay.”

  “Don’t get too close. And don’t let the long blanket trip you.”

  That kept him busy while she took off her clothes. She couldn’t make a knot on her own shoulder, so she wrapped herself up as if the blanket were a towel, tucking in the loose end beneath her arm. Nate was right—it did stink. She laid their clothing out on the table and hung across the chairs closest to the fire, figuring those had to dry before their snowsuits. After showing Nate the proper way to stoke the fire with the stick, she pulled up a chair and sat down as close as she could stand the heat. Letting out a big sigh, she held out her hands and rubbed them together.

  She pushed away thoughts of anything scary, like when the snow would stop or how they were going to find their way home. Right now, she was just so thankful to be warm.

  And then the door banged open, and she cried out. A man stood there, his broad shoulders spanning the width of the doorway, a long rifle loosely pointed at the ground. She grabbed Nate and held him against her. They both remained frozen—

  Until the man staggered forward a step and fell to his knees.

  Chapter Two

  DOUG THALBERG WAS aware of very little. He was so cold he was numb, had begun to irrationally think that just a little sleep would make him feel better, had long since left behind the pain of his extremities freezing.

  And then he’d met an old ranch hand on horseback, who pointed him toward the cabin. He hadn’t questioned who the man was, or why he was on Doug’s family’s land. It hadn’t mattered, only the thought of shelter from the storm. And when he finally saw the cabin, it really had been a beacon, flickering light in the windows, smoke rising from the chimney, seeming to appear and disappear in the fury of the storm like the circling beam of a lighthouse.

  He didn’t think about being polite—he just opened the door, desperate for warmth. And the sight that greeted him was both strange and wonderful. A woman and a boy sat near the fire, eyes owlish as they gaped at him. And they were wearing only blankets.

  Suddenly his legs wouldn’t hold him, and he fell, though it wasn’t painful at all. Painful was watching the woman vault to her feet, the blanket swaying precariously, one long, bare leg revealed as she rushed toward him.

  She kept going past him to slam closed the door against the blast of wind that invaded their warm shelter. The little boy, green eyes serious, came to stand before him.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  Doug’s jaw was so cold he took a minute to move it. “Just frozen,” he said hoarsely.

  “I need to take your rifle,” the woman said somberly.

  “You can take the rabbits, too,” he said.

  She obviously hadn’t noticed the two dead animals hanging from his other hand. Someone should enjoy them after he’d almost died hunting them. She grimaced, but eased away the rifle and the game.

  “I’m Sandy Fabrizi,” she said. “This is my son, Nate.”

  He shuddered. “D-Doug Thalberg.” With a trembling hand, he reached up and took off his Stetson, and snow from the brim plopped wetly to the floor.

  “I know you!” the little boy exclaimed with excitement.

  Doug stared at him blankly, even as Sandy’s eyebrows rose.

  “You came to my school and talked about being a cowboy. You let us all try on your hat, and we could hear your spurs jingle, and then we went outside and petted your horse.”

  Well, Doug had done all that, but there had been a lot of little faces in that crowd. “I remember.”

  Sandy’s tension relaxed into a faint smile. Nate turned to tug on his mother’s clothes, and obviously forgot what she was wearing. With a little gasp, she caught the blanket before it could drop away from her body.

  Doug gave a snort of aborted laughter, then groaned and dropped forward on his hands.

  “That was nice of you to come to school, Mr. Thalberg,” she said, “but maybe you should try taking your coat off and getting warm.”

  He cleared his throat and forced himself back to a squat, then slowly rose. She took a big step back, so he was careful not to make any threatening moves.

  “Call me Doug.”

  She nodded.

  After dropping his gloves on the table, he tried to unbutton his coat, but his frozen fingers fumbled.

  Sandy came close and brushed away his hands. “Let me.”

  He didn’t mind looking down on the top of her head, her black hair still damp from the snow. Her fingers were nimble and full of purpose, but though she didn’t meet his eyes, he’d seen their brown depths. She had a cute nose and heart-shaped face, and her shoulders were bare and creamy white above the blanket. From his position, he could see the V between her breasts, and he quickly raised his gaze again to find the kid watching everything with interest.

  At last she parted his coat, and he was able to shrug out of it. His t-shirt and flannel shirt were soaked with sweat, but he wasn’t going to think about that now as he moved stiffly toward the fire. His boots tracked snow across the wood floor, but there were already damp spots from the two of them. He squatted down and held out his frozen hands to the fire, and
the spreading heat was almost painful. Heaving a sigh, he closed his eyes.

  “You can’t stay in those wet clothes,” she said, her voice hesitant. “There’s another blanket . . .”

  He glanced over his shoulder at the two of them standing hand in hand. He guessed what it cost her to say that to a stranger, and he didn’t want her to feel frightened of him.

  “My jeans aren’t bad.” A lie. “I’ll dry my shirts. But first, have you filled a pan with snow for drinkin’ water?”

  She winced. “No. Pretty foolish.”

  “Hey, you started a fire. That’s the most important thing. And thank you. If I’d have had to do it myself . . .”

  He trailed off, and the two of them shared a somber gaze.

  He took an old blackened pot to the door, tried to keep it open only a narrow crack while he reached through and scooped up snow. Wind whistled past him, and the fire in the hearth jumped and crackled. With the door closed, he used the snow to wash the dust and cobwebs as best he could, dumped it outside, and filled it full with snow again. He set it by the fire.

  After pulling off the flannel and t-shirt, he found a place to hang them near all of theirs. He pretended not to see her underwear and bra. She really was totally naked under that blanket.

  Her gaze widened on his chest before looking away. He noticed she wasn’t wearing a wedding ring—and that was a stupid thing to notice, when he’d just barely survived being frozen to death.

  “Is anyone lookin’ for you?” he asked. “Just wanted to warn you not to expect help anytime soon. The snow’s really deep out there.”

  “My dad left last year,” Nate said matter-of-factly.

  Sandy winced and briefly closed her eyes. But she didn’t contradict the boy.

  There was no reason to feel strangely lighter about something that had obviously been horrible and traumatic—but he did. “Sorry to hear that, son. So there’s no one else to worry?”

  “I borrowed my brother-in-law’s truck this morning, but never told them exactly when we’d be leaving or where we’d be going.” Pain shadowed her eyes, and she touched her son’s shoulder as if for comfort. “If we don’t come home tonight, then they’re going to worry.”

  “You won’t be goin’ home tonight. This storm doesn’t sound like it’s lettin’ up for a while.”

  Her shoulders sagged.

  “Why don’t you sit back down by the fire, Sandy. You, too, Nate. There’s nothin’ else to be done for a while.”

  The boy sat down on the wood floor, and only an awkward minute passed before he said, “I’m hungry, Mom.”

  Doug glanced at the cupboards. “We should find some cans up there. We try to restock every couple years. And I have the rabbits, of course.”

  “Is this cabin yours?” Nate asked, eyes wide.

  “It’s my family’s. My mom and dad own it and the ranch.”

  “But you’re a cowboy.”

  He smiled. “Yep. I have a brother who’s a cowboy, too.” His smile faded at remembered pain. He saw Sandy watching him too closely.

  “I want to ride a horse.”

  “When we get home, you’ll have to come visit me and ride one of our horses.”

  “You have lots?”

  Doug nodded. When the boy didn’t jump in with a new question, he said to Sandy, “What were you two doing walkin’ in the woods?” He gestured to the rabbits on the table. “I was huntin’.”

  “We were searching for the perfect Christmas tree,” she said softly, smiling at Nate.

  Doug looked down at his linked hands. He’d been trying to get away from the holiday and all the memories of happy times that would never come again. Christmas was a cruel joke this year.

  But he’d never let his mood ruin it for a little boy whose father had left him. And from the way Nate had said those words, it didn’t seem like he saw his father at all.

  “So did you find a tree?”

  Nate nodded. “Mom cut it down. Did you see it outside? We leaned it up against the cabin.”

  He’d been too busy trying to put one foot in front of the other to notice a tree.

  “Bet it’s totally covered with snow by now,” Sandy said. “It might just look like the Abominable Snowman leaning against the cabin.”

  Nate giggled, and then he patted his stomach in surprise. “My tummy’s growling pretty loud.”

  “I’ll see what I can find.”

  With a sigh, she put her palms on her knees and rose to her feet, hastily grabbing the top of the blanket to keep it in place. Doug barely hid a smile and looked away politely.

  “Need some help?” he asked.

  “No, you stay by the fire. You looked more frozen than we were.”

  She went through the cupboards and brought down a few cans. He heard her sigh of relief when she found the can opener. After blowing the dust off the cans, she choked out a cough.

  “Think they’re still good?” she asked.

  “Should be. Only way to tell is to open them up. I’ll get the rabbits ready later.”

  “Glad you know how to do that, because I don’t.”

  Wearing his little toga, Nate went over to the table and looked at the dead rabbits with interest.

  “I don’t suppose we can put those outside,” Sandy said.

  “No, ma’am. Another animal will have a meal instead of us.”

  “We don’t want that. Don’t touch, Nate,” she said in a warning tone of voice.

  He was crouching near their heads, staring at their teeth.

  She found another pot, and it was her turn to give it a snow cleaning. Doug tried not to watch, but couldn’t help it, so fascinated was he by her blanket-draped form, and the constant threat that she might drop it. He felt guilty about his thoughts, but that didn’t stop him from watching.

  She emptied three cans into the pot, and brought it over to the hearth. He pointed out the hook used to hang the pot directly over the fire.

  Nate looked inside and wrinkled his nose. “Stew.”

  “If you don’t like it, more for me,” Doug said.

  “Me, too,” Sandy said with nonchalance.

  But the boy ate it, and heartily. There were only two bowls, two spoons; and the two of them shared, making Doug feel vaguely guilty, since she insisted he eat at the same time.

  Outside, the storm still howled, and the light slowly faded in the windows as the night approached. More than once, Sandy felt for the dampness of their clothes, altered their positions, as if desperate to put them back on again. Doug found some candles to make it more cheerful, and to see while he skinned the rabbits. He tossed the remains outside and put the carcasses over the fire. Later he’d add a can of potatoes and another of corn and peas. It was going to take a long time to cook.

  While they waited, they whiled away the late afternoon listening to Nate talk. He never tired of telling them about his kindergarten teacher, his friends, his soccer team, how he wanted to play basketball this winter but there wasn’t time. Doug saw Sandy’s lips tighten, a deep sadness in her eyes. He could only imagine what it must be like to raise a kid all by yourself.

  By that time, their clothes were dry, and she held a blanket up for Nate to get dressed behind. Doug couldn’t help meeting her amused eyes and grinning when the boy couldn’t see.

  And then it was her turn to change, and she looked at her blanket and clothes for an endless minute. He would have offered to hold up the blanket, of course, but guessed she might turn him down.

  “You boys turn your backs, and promise you won’t look,” she said, directing the last part to Nate.

  But Doug caught a glance thrown his way and smiled, before he put up both hands and turned his back.

  Chapter Three

  SANDY WANTED TO turn her back as well, but she didn’t dare. Instead she stared at the two males, little and big, as she pulled her panties on beneath the blanket, and then her corduroys. It was awkward and slow, but for some reason, she couldn’t just let the blanket drop, even though
she knew in her heart that Doug Thalberg was too honorable a cowboy to go against his word.

  But it seemed to be herself she was guarding against. Something inside her, long thought dead, was slowly coming back to life every moment she spent with Doug. It had all started on hearing that he took time out of his day to talk to little kids about being a cowboy. Just knowing the kind of man he was made her want to trust him from the beginning.

  He had wavy brown hair and a five-o’clock shadow that gave him a dangerously attractive look; spending an afternoon with him shirtless had made her uncomfortable and aware. His chest was well sculpted with muscles, evidence of his hard work as a cowboy. It had actually been difficult to keep her gaze on his face—she’d think differently the next time she caught a man doing that to her.

  She’d already caught Doug doing that to her, and felt a little thrill.

  Oh, but this was wrong. She didn’t even know if he was married—although she didn’t see a wedding ring, and after all they’d been through this afternoon, he certainly would have said “my wife” a time or two.

  She turned her back and quickly donned her bra, then yanked the turtleneck over her head so fast she could have ripped it. But she gave a big sigh of relief, and tossed the offending blanket onto a chair.

  “Done,” she called.

  She turned around to find Doug and Nate bent over the skillet, and Doug was showing her son how to stir their concoction, and demonstrating how to tell if it was done. The ache of tenderness and gratitude she felt made her stop as if someone had squeezed the very heart in her chest.

  Doug didn’t have to be so patient and thoughtful—he just simply was. He was easing a young boy’s fears in a scary situation, and easing hers, too.

  Soon, they were able to eat the rabbit, and it tasted better than anything had a right to. They were all silently appreciative at the feast, and glad they’d have the second rabbit to reheat tomorrow. Doug broke chunks of ice off a rain barrel outside to help keep the rabbit cold all night—and they put the pot near the drafty door, which would help.