A Texas Christmas

by Thomas, Jodi Jodi Thomas

  Everyone laughed.

  “That makes seven rooms, if we use the kitchen,” she continued. “There are thirty-eight of us here. That puts five or six of us in each room for the night.”

  No one disputed the teacher. After all, she’d taught the three Rs.

  “We’ll give you women the beds, so you’ll have a place to stretch out,” Newpord instructed. “We men will take the chairs, settees, and floors that have rugs on them near the chimneys. We don’t want anyone catching cold on the floorboards. I’d prefer you figure out for yourselves who you want to share the room with, but if it seems to present a problem, we’ll draw names.”

  Voices started exchanging their thoughts on the subject and choices were made. James could hear Izora’s complaint that wives ought to get to stay with their husbands, but if she had to, she would share with other women. Finally, Izora insisted that Enoch sleep on the rug near whichever bed she was assigned, and Enoch nodded his agreement silently.

  James moved over to Anna and leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Where are you sleeping?”

  She looked up at him and one golden brow arched high over her left eye. “Why? Do you have something in mind?”

  She was trying to flirt with him. She had been ever since he’d gotten mad at her earlier. All through the meal and dishwashing, she’d done nothing but find ways to accidentally brush her body against his, making him acutely aware of how well he liked the way she fit him.

  Anna was playing with fire. He might be a tenderfoot in her territory and not any part Texan, but he was man enough to know when he wanted a woman. And he wanted her. He just didn’t want her in the company of others. He would tell her just how much he liked the way she felt in his arms and brushing up against him, if they ever had a chance to be alone. Which didn’t seem a likely possibility under these circumstances.

  “I just wanted to know if you were going to have to spend it in Mrs. Beavers’s room choice,” he told her, realizing he hadn’t answered her.

  “Jane and Marjorie and I are taking Janie’s room. We don’t know yet who the other two will be.” Her eyes twinkled like blue sapphires in the firelight. “Since there are more men than women, I don’t know that it won’t be a couple of men. On the floor, of course.”

  “Men, in your room?” James immediately excused himself and headed over to their host. “Mr. Henton, may I speak with you, sir?”

  Newpord excused himself from the group surrounding him. “Yes, Trey?”

  “I thought you and I should take the floor of your daughter’s room for the night, if you have no objection.” He realized how that had sounded when the gray-haired man’s bushy eyebrows formed a V beneath his forehead. “I mean, sir. I assumed if unmarried men would be sharing some of the rooms with the women,” he was stepping deeper into the quagmire of his words, “then you might want someone you trust to guard your daughter’s room. Rather, I certainly would want to guard Miss Ross’s.”

  The V eased up and a smile returned to Newpord’s face as James continued, “And Anna just told me only she, your daughter, and Miss Schroeder are sharing your daughter’s room at the moment. They need five people per room, is my understanding. We seemed the logical pair of men, due to the division requirement.”

  “Son, stop with all the twenty-dollar words.” Newpord placed a hand on James’s shoulder. “Just say you’ve got it bad for Anna and you don’t want any other man in there.”

  James looked across the room at the saloonkeeper in all her sassy glory. “I’m afraid I do, sir. Does it show that much?”

  The hand patted his shoulder. “It does to a man who felt the same way about his own woman once.” The widower glanced Anna’s way. “Sure. We’ll claim that floor for us.”

  A sense of relief washed over James as that all-important matter was settled.

  The hand left his shoulder as Newpord started chuckling.

  “What’s so humorous?” James hadn’t seen anything that could have caused such a jolly reaction.

  “I was just thinking that she must be at least part of what they claim of her.”

  James grew tired of all the innuendo and no one ever really saying what it was that Anna was guilty of. “What is that, Mr. Henton? No one seems willing to actually say it.”

  “She’s supposed to be fast on her feet, son. She certainly roped you in. How long have you known her . . . less than twenty-four hours?”

  “Fast on her feet?” James puzzled over the meaning. “What does that mean in Texas, exactly?” He knew what it meant up North.

  Newpord hooked his thumbs in his belt and rocked back on his feet. “Well, that depends on who’s telling you. Izora and some others think it means Anna’s a soiled woman, a fast ruffle of petticoats. All because she came to town with money of her own and won’t say where she got it. Jane and a group just like her think it means Anna’s a woman who knows her own mind and means not to let anyone change it except herself. Me? This Texan thinks she’s fast at finding the goodness of someone’s heart. I’d say lucky is the man who wins her love.”

  James thought maybe she was all three of those definitions, the way she’d been acting toward him since the dance. Could he love a woman who might not be the perfect addition to take home to meet his family? After all, she’d warned him well enough how others thought of her.

  How naughty had Anna been?

  Chapter 7

  The sound of a grandfather clock chiming from the study next door informed Anna that it was three in the morning. Jack stirred under the covers at her hip, shifting position so he could snuggle in closer. The house seemed quiet despite the numerous occupants, the silence broken occasionally by the howling wind that brushed branches against the windows to remind them that the blizzard raged on.

  Jane rolled over in the bed beside Anna, throwing a hand over Anna’s hip, accidentally touching Jack. The dog growled and let her know he didn’t appreciate her disturbing his comfort. Marjorie followed suit, rolling closer to Jane and pushing Anna to the farthest edge of the bed that all three women shared. Jack went tumbling onto the floor, grumbling his discontent. He barked and ran over to the blanket huddled in front of the chimney on the rug, digging his nose into the folds of the blanket. When that didn’t work, he started pawing the blanket to get the sleeper’s attention.

  Anna watched as Trey’s hand reached out from beneath the blanket and pulled him in closer to snuggle. The Third’s long, lanky body barely fit on the oval rug spread in front of the fireplace.

  “Scoot over,” whispered Anna, bumping her bottom up against Jane’s belly, “You’re hogging all the bed.”

  Jane giggled and flipped sideways. “Marjorie keeps calling me Bob, whoever that is, and hugging the breath out of me. He must be the knight in shining Stetson of her dreams.”

  “You bet he is.” Marjorie yawned and rolled to her back, scooting over enough so Jane could do the same. “He’ll show up someday on a white steed and ready for a redhead, you’ll see. Got to have faith.”

  “You girls awake?” Newpord sat up from where he’d been lying on the bench at the foot of Jane’s bed. He yawned and stretched. “I’m getting too old for this bunking somewhere other than my own bed. Hope the storm lets up tomorrow . . . I mean . . . today. It is today already, isn’t it?”

  “So the clock says.” Trey added his complaint to the mix and sat up, throwing off the cover. “Although I’ve slept many a night out on the trail and this is a mighty comfortable rug, the fire’s dying down and the floor’s getting cold. I could use something warm to drink.”

  Jack blinked his one eye, his little head hanging like he could barely hold it up. He yawned so hard that his tongue rolled out almost the length of his body, then curled up like a pig’s tail.

  “Poor little guy. Won’t anybody let you sleep?” Trey patted him and tried to wrap the blanket back around him, but Jack must have sensed everyone was getting up and refused to miss out on whatever they intended to do.

  “Anybody else hungry but m
e?” Newpord stood and straightened the coat he had worn to bed to add more warmth for the night. Everyone had elected to wear their party clothes and coats to bed rather than make their hosts have to provide nightclothes for each. There simply hadn’t been enough to go around, and the decision was made not to change out of their clothes so they wouldn’t lose valuable body heat during the change. Izora had complained, of course, but after pleas from her husband not to make a scene, she finally agreed to follow majority rule.

  Anna sat up and swung her feet around to touch the floor. The Third was right. The floor was cold, despite the low fire banked in Jane’s room. Jane had offered an extra pair of stockings for Anna and Marjorie to put on before they’d gone to bed, but the chill seeped into both layers she wore. The upper floors always held heat better, so it must be freezing downstairs. The thought of going anywhere colder almost persuaded her to stay in bed.

  “I say we all get up and sneak down to the kitchen, if we can,” she suggested, “grab some hot cider and something to snack on, visit the mudroom, and hurry back. We can grab an extra log or two of the firewood, if there’s any left.”

  “There should be plenty for tonight and part of tomorrow.” Newpord tested the sturdiness of one of the chairs that provided a place to read in Jane’s room. “After that, we might have to rely on burning off some of the furniture.”

  “Surely not, Father,” Jane protested, pushing Marjorie to get out of bed so that she could too.

  “Quit pushing,” Marjorie protested. “I’m moving as fast as these cold bones can go. If my teeth don’t quit chattering, I’m going to give Izora a run for her money in being the fastest talker in the territory. Perish the thought.”

  Jack started barking and everyone shushed him.

  “No use destroying good furniture,” Trey reassured Newpord. “We could always use the mudroom supply.”

  Everyone faced Trey at the ridiculous suggestion, but he sounded serious as a preacher passing the donation plate.

  “That makes scents,” Marjorie teased. “Get it?”

  Jane shoved her friend again. “We got it.”

  “It would indeed be an option.” James realized how utterly professorish he sounded and finally realized what Marjorie had said. “Oh, you were teasing me, weren’t you, Miss Schroeder? Though not a pleasant option, I admit, it would be one nonetheless and would save these lovely furnishings.”

  “Come with me, Mr. Fix-it. Let’s go get a log. A wooden one.” Anna offered him a hand up and laughed. “I’m already having a hard enough time trying to sleep without adding odor to it.”

  The sound of Jack’s toenails clicking across the wooden floor said the dog intended to come too.

  “Shh,” Jane whispered, opening the door to her room. “If you make me laugh, I’ll wake up everyone in the house. Now come on, everyone, let’s form a tiptoe line.”

  Tiptoe they did indeed, like a fourteen-footed centipede weaving its way through a maze of male legs stretched one way or the other to find comfort and heat. Jack led the way, hurdling over blanketed bodies and not waiting to reach the mudroom before relieving himself of his own particular need.

  “Stop it, Jack.” Anna threatened to wring the dog’s neck but he continued to mark his trail where he deemed suitable. “I’m going to owe you a house cleaning,” she told Jane.

  Snores echoed over the second landing, revealing that at least some of the guests had no trouble finding rest. The smell of body sweat from those who had danced and whiskey from others who had imbibed permeated the landing and great room. No, Anna decided, they definitely didn’t need to add to the fragrance of too many people in one place. A log was needed and nothing else would be substituted. Jack, on the other hand, had his own plan in mind.

  After a few minutes of trying not to swat the dog or wake anyone with their sidestepping, they managed to reach the kitchen and found it free of any sleepers. “I guess no one wanted to chance sleeping next to the mudroom, even though this is the toastiest room in the house.” Newpord opened the door to the mudroom, and sure enough, it reeked of several visits. “You ladies want to go first?”

  “I will, but I definitely won’t be long,” Jane said quickly and disappeared into the room, closing the door and its scent behind her as Jack slipped by to follow her in.

  “I’ll heat up some cider.” Anna grabbed the blue speckled pot that Jane had earlier allotted for the cider and poured a jar of cider into it. Jane had insisted they leave the stove burning to help with the heat and in case anyone got up during the night wanting to warm up food. “Trey, will you grab five cups down for me and that tray there? Maybe take a few of those cookies and those cinnamon rolls.”

  Marjorie slapped at Trey’s hand. “No, you don’t. Leave the cookies for Izora. We wouldn’t want her to run out before the storm ends, would we?”

  Trey selected the cinnamon rolls instead. “She certainly is an intense woman. Why is she always so angry?”

  “She’s a bully. She’s insecure about something as most bullies are, so she makes everyone think she’s mean.” Anna helped him settle the cups onto the platter, realizing he was having difficulty with his injured hand. “Is that hurting you?”

  Trey shook his head. “Not really. It’s just cold, I think.”

  “Here, let me finish that for you.” Newpord started to take the platter from Anna, but she wouldn’t let him. “Jane’s finished, now it’s your turn.”

  “Marjorie? You sure you don’t need to?”

  Marjorie shook her head. “I got a ten-gallon bladder. I think I’ll wait till the sun’s up and shining through the windows. I’d rather keep my drawers on for the moment. It’s too cold to pull them down now.”

  “Marjie!” Jane’s blush radiated through the firelight, making her look as if she could melt where she stood.

  “Well, you know I speak bluntly. And that’s the plain truth. Besides, we’ve been friends too long to worry about being polite.”

  “Then I’ll be right back, ladies and gentleman, and we’ll head back upstairs.” Newpord disappeared into the mudroom with Jack following close on his heels.

  “For that dog to be less than six pounds, four of it’s got to be all pee.” Anna sighed, knowing there wasn’t a thing she could do about it except toss him outside, and that wasn’t about to happen.

  It didn’t take Newpord and her pet long to return with their host carrying a log. “No need for distress, ladies. There’s still more where this came from. I just had to find one Jack hadn’t marked.”

  “Why don’t you and the ladies head back upstairs. I’ll wait for the cider to warm,” Trey offered. “That way you can get that log burning and the warmth back into the room quicker.”

  “I’ll stay with you, if you don’t mind, Trey.” Anna handed Marjorie the platter with cups. “He doesn’t need to be trying to handle the hot pot with that hand.”

  All were in agreement and parted ways. Anna waved Trey into one of the kitchen chairs. “You might as well sit while we wait. It shouldn’t take too long.”

  “Come here.” Trey didn’t sit. Instead his hand outstretched to her.

  She searched his face and wondered if he could be as bold as she hoped he might be all evening. But that wasn’t his way, or was it?

  “We’re finally alone,” he reminded her.

  “Almost,” she whispered. “There’s Jack.”

  “He won’t mind this.”

  Maybe he was. She could hope. Anna accepted Trey’s hand and walked up into his embrace. Leaning her head back, she shut her eyes, enjoying the timbre of his voice, the simplicity of his words and the promise they held.

  She felt him tilt her chin back and brush a soft, slow, sensuous kiss across her lips. Trey had been right. Slow was definitely better. This was far better than the hurried kiss on the wagon.

  She opened her eyes and stared into his, searching for something she thought she might never see in those whiskey-colored depths—the sight of someone who would love her, no matter wha
t anyone else thought of her.

  Anna reached up and removed his spectacles, wanting nothing to keep her from reading the truth there, the hope and possibility of her future in this man’s arms. She set them on the counter, then stood on her tiptoes and tangled her fingers in the back of his hair. She was mesmerized, wanting to look forever.

  “Kiss me,” he whispered, moving closer until her body touched his so intimately in every place that it ignited a fire within her stronger than any she’d ever known.

  Trey didn’t wait for her to answer his command. His lips pressed a lingering series of kisses against her lips, setting every nerve ablaze in her body as his tongue tangled tempestuously and oh-so-expertly with hers. The world spun out of control and she had to hold him tightly for fear that she might swoon, something she’d never done in her entire life.

  “Trey,” she whispered. “I didn’t know it could feel like . . .”

  “Say my name,” he commanded. “I want you to know who you’re kissing . . . who’s kissing you.”

  Anna willed herself to remember. To make it important, because it was the most important thing she’d ever been asked to remember. From the first moment she’d met him, she’d known he would change her life. She’d felt it, an uncommon warmth that had blown in with the fiercest of winds. Every scene played out in her mind. Every word they’d shared, whiskey driven or sober. “It’s James,” she whispered. “James Elliott the Third.”

  He kissed her again so completely that Anna lost all sense of anything but wanting to stay in his arms forever. James. The name branded itself into her heart. James. Her soul now knew its mate’s name. James. The answer to all those wishes since leaving her home back East. Wishes from a heart that longed to be truly loved.

  When he finally pulled away, he said, “I want you to remember that name, Anna. It’s fine and good and the best that I can offer you. But I’m also Trey and the Third. I’m those things too. Absentminded, clumsy, ignorant of most of what you Texans count as common knowledge. Am I enough for you? Could you love a man like me?”