A Texas Christmas

by Thomas, Jodi Jodi Thomas

  Well, almost anyway. He closed the lid, picked up the pair of underdrawers, and scowled. He couldn’t go wagging them into the passenger car footloose and fancy free.

  He’d be a laughingstock.

  Sloan rolled them up and stuck them inside his coat. That would do he guessed, although he felt a little funny having a pair of women’s drawers nestling against his chest.

  Tess breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of Sloan coming down the aisle. He’d been gone so long she started to worry.

  She didn’t know what it was about the man that she trusted, but she’d stake her life on him.

  His quiet, calm manner was something to marvel. He hadn’t even gotten in an uproar when Flynn had threatened to shoot them. But the closer he came to her now, the more she noticed his flushed face and reddened ears. Had something else happened? A quick glance found Flynn still bound. The stranger was still occupied with Mrs. Abner. And Maryellen Langtry appeared to be feeling fine, judging by the way she bustled around keeping the orphan children entertained.

  “What’s wrong, Sullivan?”

  “If you need anything else from your trunk, you’re going to have to somehow get it yourself.”

  “Then you didn’t find anything from which to make compresses?”

  “Oh, I got something all right.” He glanced left and right before he reached into his coat and pulled out a piece of flannel rolled up tight and thrust it into her hands.

  “This will do perfectly.” Tess threw her arms around his neck. Realizing what she’d done and how it looked, she drew back. “I didn’t mean to do that. I was just so grateful I got carried away.”

  “Let’s get Powell moved.” The huskiness of his voice vibrated along her nerve endings. “The sooner he’s out of here, the better.”

  “Amen to that. If you’ll carry him, I’ll lead the way and open doors.” She fastened her coat, knowing the stove wouldn’t have had time to thaw the cold caboose.

  Tess watched the great care with which Sloan tucked the blankets around Ira and lifted the old man into his arms. Her eyes stung with sudden tears. She wasn’t in this fight alone. She didn’t have to shoulder the full load. Whatever happened, she knew she could depend on this rancher.

  She didn’t know why he’d crossed the street in town to avoid talking to her, but they seemed to have moved past that.

  Braving the icy blast that hit her when she opened the door, Tess held the door for Sloan. She carried the lantern, helping Omie navigate the narrow metal platform from one car to the next. Rollins dragged up the rear with the box of food.

  Before long, they had Ira and Omie settled in the train brakeman’s sanctuary. Tess borrowed Sloan’s pocketknife to slit the flannel drawers he’d fetched from her trunk while he removed Ira’s shirt and pants.

  When she saw the extensive red rash covering her patient, she sucked in her breath. No one had to tell her Ira was in a bad way.

  Sloan accepted his pocketknife back and closed the blade. “I’ll get some coffee brewing while you and Mrs. Powell take care of things there. Then I’ll carry it to the passengers. I know they’ll feel almost human to get some hot coffee into them. And I want to keep an eye on that stranger.”

  Tess met his gray stare. “That’s a wonderful idea all the way around. I’ll wash my hands and get the stew cooking once I take care of Ira. Thank you for your help. I don’t know what I’d have done if you hadn’t been here.”

  He looked away and murmured, “Glad to do it.”

  A short while later Sloan turned to leave with the pot of coffee and an armful of cups. Tess caught his arm. “Will you please watch after Maryellen Langtry? I’m worried about her.”

  Sloan nodded and closed the door behind him. Tess keenly felt the emptiness in the small car. The tall man could certainly fill up a space with his large presence.

  Chapter 4

  Tess and Omie stopped long enough to get the stew cooking, then they resumed Ira’s cold bath.

  Tess dipped pieces of the soft flannel in the melted snow and applied them to Ira’s fevered body. As the make-do compresses grew warm, Omie took them and handed Tess some cold ones. They had a good system going.

  She just wished she could take the worry from Omie’s gentle brown gaze.

  But she couldn’t. No one could.

  When Tess’s hands were frozen by the cold water, she dropped the flannel pieces in the bucket and rose from a chair she’d pulled over from the small eating table. Other than the table, there was a desk from which the conductor worked, keeping track of the tickets; the stove; and two small bunks.

  Stretching, Tess moved to the wood-burning stove to thaw out.

  Even though Omie’s hands had to be as icy as hers, the old woman resumed where Tess left off. The woman wouldn’t give up even though she had to be totally exhausted.

  Standing by the fire, Tess watched the way Omie tenderly cared for her husband. The thing that struck her most was the deep love shining from Omie’s eyes each time she looked at Ira. It was a beautiful thing to witness. Tess felt as though she was intruding on something rare and precious.

  She’d caught her mother and father stealing glances at each other in much the same way.

  Tess wanted to find a love like that. She’d not settle for less. She’d rather go through life alone than to make do with second best.

  While she was pondering the whys and wherefores of love and romance, the door opened and Sloan ducked his head as he walked through. He wore a look of puzzlement.

  “Did that red-bearded stranger come in here?”

  “No, we haven’t seen him,” Tess answered. “Why?”

  “He’s disappeared and I can’t find him.”

  An uncomfortable stillness like the kind born from fear came over her. “I thought Rollins and the conductor were watching him.”

  “The oldest orphan boy’s ball rolled under the stove and they were both trying to get it out. When they looked up, Red Beard had vanished.”

  “Do you think he left the train?”

  Sloan wiped his eyes. “Frankly, I don’t know what to think. Anything’s possible I reckon.”

  “Have you checked the livestock car to see if your horse is still there?”

  “Not yet. Thought I’d see if you ladies were all right first. Wish this door had a lock on it. If it did, I’d have you bolt it behind me.”

  Chills sashayed up Tess’s spine. Sloan thought they were in danger. If the stranger came in here, Tess and Omie would be no match for him. She didn’t relish being apart from the others but they’d had no choice. Mrs. Abner and Flynn were itching to put Ira off the train, and the devil take anyone who tried to stand in their way.

  Tess balled her hand into a fist. She’d fight with the last breath she had to protect the kindly old gentleman. “If anyone comes in here with intentions of harming us, believe me, you’ll know it. I can scream pretty loud.”

  He spared the barest flicker of a grin. “Just holler and I’ll come running.” Sloan stuck his hands in his pockets and shifted his weight. “Reckon I’ll go check on my horse now.”

  “Sloan?”

  “Yes?”

  “Be careful. I don’t trust that man.”

  His full mouth set in a grim line. “Makes two of us.”

  After he left, she looked for something to lodge in front of the door. But there wasn’t a blasted thing that could keep a body out.

  Sloan drew up the coat’s high collar around his ears and stepped onto the metal platform between the caboose and passenger car. A wintry blast hit him. The wind hadn’t died down one iota. The relentless gusts drove the heavy snow into drifts so high it reached up to the undercarriage of the train cars. He ducked through the door into the passenger car. Without pausing, he hurried down the aisle, opened the door, and proceeded across the metal platform on that end.

  The dim interior of the livestock car made it difficult to see. Before his eyes could adjust, a fist swung, slamming into Sloan’s jaw.

  H
e’d found Red Beard.

  Shaking his head to clear his vision, Sloan retaliated with a powerful jab to Red Beard’s midsection. The force doubled the man over and left him gasping for air.

  “Have you had enough or do I need to convince you a little harder?” Sloan asked.

  Bent over like the man was, Sloan could barely make out Red Beard’s nod. “Enough,” the man managed between grunts and groans.

  Still Sloan needed some answers. “Why did you hit me?”

  When the man seemed unwilling to reply, Sloan grabbed two handfuls of the buffalo robe and slung him against the inside wall of the boxcar. The force rattled the boards, shaking the car. The two horses skittered and raised a ruckus.

  “Don’t want any trouble. You startled me. I wasn’t expecting anyone to come in here.”

  “I bet not.” Sloan didn’t try to hide his sarcasm. “I don’t take kindly to a man trying to steal my horse, mister.”

  “Wasn’t trying to steal no horse.”

  “Then you’d best get to explaining.”

  “I was just trying to see who they belonged to. All right?”

  “What difference does it make who owns them? You don’t have any right to be in this car.”

  “I’m looking for a man. Mrs. Abner told me you came from a nearby ranch bringing supplies, Sullivan.”

  Mrs. Abner was at it again. Sloan didn’t know if she was deliberately trying to stir up more trouble or simply running her mouth in an attempt to look important. He’d wager she had a bone to pick with anyone who rubbed her the wrong way. She reminded him of a stout English bulldog with a short fuse.

  “What of it?” He squinted at the stranger through narrowed eyes. “Do I know you, mister?”

  “Far as I know we ain’t ever met before.”

  “Who’s this man you’re looking for and what’s your business with him?”

  The stranger licked his lips. “Can’t say.”

  “Can’t or won’t?”

  “Some things a man oughta have a right to keep to hisself. I’m here because I promised my sister I’d come.”

  “Then you’re meeting your sister?”

  “Not exactly. Just taking care of something for her.”

  “What’s your name and don’t give me any backtalk.”

  The man’s eyes darted around the car nervously. “I’d rather not say.”

  “I don’t care what your druthers are.” Sloan tightened his hand around Red Beard’s throat. “Tell me and do it now.”

  “Deacon. Deacon Brown.”

  Sloan was surprised that it meant nothing to him. He would’ve wagered his ranch that he’d at least have heard the name. “You wanted by the law, Deacon? Is that the reason for stealing around and acting all secretlike?”

  “I ain’t broken any laws. If you don’t mind, it feels like it’s forty below out here. My toes are numb. Mind if we go back in by the fire?”

  “You didn’t seem to mind that before I appeared.” With his free hand, Sloan felt inside the buffalo robe for a pistol. Finding one tucked in the waistband of Deacon’s britches, Sloan put it in his coat pocket with Charles Flynn’s.

  “You ain’t got no right to take that,” Deacon protested.

  “You’ll get it back when you leave the train. Meantime, you don’t have any need for it. Just think of it as protecting the passengers.”

  “I think we’re done here, Sullivan. Let me go.”

  Reluctantly, Sloan released his hold on the man. “I catch you nosing around out here again I’ll make you wish you’d never seen me or this train. Now git.”

  Deacon Brown gathered his buffalo robe close and left.

  Though Sloan was by no means gratified by the turn of events, at least he’d gotten a few answers . . . if they were the truth. Time would tell on that. Sloan checked on the dappled gray and the gelding and calmed them down. Casting one last glance around the boxcar and finding nothing amiss, he followed Deacon Brown into the warmth of the passenger car.

  He wondered what time of day it was, but he hadn’t worn his pocket watch when he dressed that morning. And to judge by looking at the sky was impossible. Although the thick gray gloom made it seem near dusk, he had no idea if that was true.

  Remembering his promise to milk the cow, he found a clean pail. Grabbing a lantern, he retraced his steps to the boxcar. It wasn’t long before he returned with it brimming with milk.

  “Thank you, mister,” said the oldest orphan boy, smiling when Sloan handed him a cup of milk.

  “You’re very welcome, son.”

  His gaze was drawn toward the red caboose and Tess. He really should tell her he’d found the stranger. It was the right thing to do, he told himself.

  No other reason. Definitely not.

  But, as he limped in that direction, the door opened and Tess stepped into the car. She carried a steaming cup that bore the unmistakable aroma of hot tea.

  “I was rummaging through the supplies and discovered a tin of tea. I know Maryellen can use some.”

  Sloan nodded. He knew how women prized their hot tea.

  From the minute Tess had stepped from the caboose, the image of the very feminine, very revealing chemise he’d found in her trunk filled his head. No matter how hard he tried to get his mind on something else, he couldn’t. It was hopeless. He wondered if she wore a similar undergarment now beneath her sedate gray wool traveling dress.

  Heat rose and flooded his face.

  Averting his eyes, he told her where he’d found the stranger.

  “Deacon Brown, you say?” She wrinkled her forehead.

  Sloan nodded. “That’s what he told me.”

  “I’ve never heard of him. Do you think he made the name up to cover for something he’s done?” Her voice held a breathless quality and made him think of warm brandy and a flickering fire.

  “I don’t know what to believe. The man’s sure acting suspicious. He had no reason to be messing with the horses. I intend to fill Rollins in on everything. Maybe between the train crew and me, we can keep him in our sights.” He grabbed her arm to keep her from bumping into a row of empty seats. He could feel the jolt of electricity even through the layers of clothing. “How is Powell?”

  Lamplight illuminated gold flecks in the pale amber of her eyes that reminded him of the color of whiskey. “His fever has come down some. Omie stayed with him while I got things ready in here for when it comes time to bring the stew over. And I wanted to check on Maryellen. I know she’s all right or you’d have let me know, but I wanted to see for myself.”

  Lord knows they didn’t need that baby to come now.

  Sloan quickly scanned the length of the car, assessing things.

  A sullen Charles Flynn was still tied up. Seated beside him, Rollins made sure the man stayed put.

  Deacon Brown, if that’s what his real name was, had taken a seat apart from the others. The man refused to meet Sloan’s eyes. So be it. Nothing said the two had to be friends. In fact, it was more likely they never would be. Sloan raised a hand to his jaw and rubbed it. One thing about it, Deacon could pack a wallop.

  Maryellen Langtry appeared in good spirits. Her thin face lit up when Tess handed her the hot tea. You’d have thought Tess gave her a king’s ransom in gold.

  Mrs. Abner’s head lolled back against the seat and her mouth gaped open. The woman was taking a snooze. Her charges played quietly across the aisle from her.

  Seeing nothing amiss, Sloan caught Rollins’s attention and motioned him toward the front. When the engineer joined him, Sloan relayed the scene in the livestock car with Deacon. “There’s something not right about the man. Don’t know what it is, or what he was doing with the horses, but we can’t let him out of our sight.”

  “I’ve already thought about that. I spoke with my men and we’re going to take turns keeping watch during the night.”

  “Good idea, Rollins.”

  “How’s Mr. Powell?” Rollins asked.

  “Tess . . . Miss Whitgrove said she
managed to get the man’s temperature down a bit.”

  “That’s good. So far none of the others seem to have caught it. And Mrs. Abner has settled down, now that Powell is out of here. We might untie Flynn. What d’ya think?”

  “Probably wouldn’t hurt since I’ve got the only weapons on board. No, I can’t see the harm, I don’t suppose. But if he steps out of line again, I won’t hesitate to truss him up like a Christmas turkey.”

  Rollins went to set Flynn free. Sloan’s eyes wandered to Tess’s trim figure, now that he could see it since she’d taken off her coat.

  The woman would make some man a mighty fine wife. She had a way about her, and she certainly didn’t shy away from work. She’d taken on the care of a seriously ill man without thought of catching what he had and cooked up a fine supper. The woman had shown an aptitude for whatever needed to be done.

  Yep, she sure had a bunch of willowy curves.

  Again the image of the thin lacy chemise passed in front of his eyes, and waves of heat rose.

  He should go stick his head in a snowbank. Possibly that might cool him off.

  He doubted it though.

  Chapter 5

  A few hours later in the train crew’s quarters, Tess’s gaze slammed into Sloan Sullivan’s eyes and got tangled up in the fathomless gray depths. He looked at her in the oddest way, almost as though he’d never seen her before.

  Then he smiled, actually and truly smiled, and her breath caught in her throat.

  The slow, heart-stopping grin revealed rows of white teeth and crinkled the tiny lines at the corners of his eyes and around his mouth. The cleft in his chin deepened. All of that combined with the dark stubble on his square jaw set her pulse racing.

  Sloan limped toward her, heavily favoring his good leg. “Here, let me help you.”

  She moved aside to give him room. Using some old rags for pot holders, he lifted the stew from the stove.

  “I’ll get the door for you,” she said.

  He carried the pot into the passenger car. The delicious aroma had everyone craning their necks. Tess followed behind with a box of tin plates, forks, and spoons that belonged to the train crew.