A Texas Christmas

by Thomas, Jodi Jodi Thomas

  “Miz Dewey, I’ll walk you back to the hotel.” Rand grabbed his hat. “I sure as hell don’t want to be blamed should something happen to you along the way.”

  “No need.” Edwinna snatched up the umbrella from where it had landed and popped the dern thing open. “I’m a grown woman.” She mocked Sarah as she stomped out the door into a wall of stark white snow.

  A gust of strong north wind stampeded across the room.

  “I wonder if your aunt knows that if you open a black umbrella inside it’ll rain bad luck on you.” Rand walked to the door and slammed it shut before returning his Stetson to the hat rack.

  “Or if a woman drops one she must ask someone else to pick it up, because if she is single and picks up an umbrella herself, she’ll never marry,” Sarah added.

  “It’s gotta be black. And it’s sure good to know there’s a bunch of single men out there who can breathe a big sigh of relief right about now.” Rand chuckled.

  They locked gazes and both burst into laughter.

  Rand enjoyed the way Sarah laughed. As much as he desperately wanted to resist her captivating smile, her warm and enchanting humor drew him to her like a hummingbird to sugar water.

  As much as Rand hated to find out what Sarah had to tell him about his half brother, he couldn’t delay it much longer. They walked to the kitchen.

  “Okay, tell me what Jim did this time.” Rand placed two cups on the table.

  “It’s easy to see you’re nothing like Mr. Crockett, so that makes it harder for me to say what I have to say.” Sarah wrapped her hands around the hot cup of tea.

  The more Sarah talked, telling Rand about how Jim Crockett had brought her and the children to the edge of town and literally dropped them off, explaining that he had business to take care of, and that his agreement with her aunt Edwinna only called for getting them to Kasota Springs safely, the madder Rand got.

  Furor rose from the depths of his stomach, and he clenched his jaw. “So he just dumped you off to walk from the edge of town to my place?”

  She nodded. “But it wasn’t all that far, and he gave me good directions.”

  Rand corralled the anger milling around inside him. With a town consisting of a square with buildings surrounding it and a railhead at one end, even an infrequent visitor wouldn’t need directions . . . except for tonight with the snow. About the time she arrived, unless one was very versed with the location of the various stores in town, the lack of visibility would make it easy to go off in the wrong direction and end up lost in open range. Lucky, the blacksmith shop was a straight shot into town.

  “Regardless, he should have made sure you were safe and sound before he went off to do God only knows what.” He wanted to add, probably to drink whiskey and take up with some loose woman . . . just like his father—our father.

  “Rand, he was really a gentleman, kind to the twins, and I honestly think the trip took longer than he’d anticipated because of the weather.” She looked up into Rand’s eyes. “So please, don’t be angry at him.”

  Anger continued to rise within Rand. “Did he say what was so important?”

  She shook her head. “Just that he’d make sure our luggage and the carriage were returned the first opportunity he got.”

  “And that was about an hour ago.” Rand tried to put things in chronological order. Although the walk from the edge of town to the blacksmith’s shop didn’t take all that long, with the deplorable weather conditions, not to mention two children to contend with, Jim would have had time to steal the money from the bazaar and disappear. The carriage would be too burdensome, and certainly noticeable, so he probably dumped it near the hotel and walked the rest of the way into town. The only thing Rand could do now was go find Jim Crockett and see that the money raised for the orphanage was returned.

  “I’ll be right back.” He pulled his big frame to his feet and shot her an almost smile. “I’ve got to go check on the horses. Make yourself at home. If you’re hungry there’s chicken and dumplin’s that my helper’s mother sent over for dinner. After I get back, I’ll take you and the children to the hotel.” He stopped, then topped it off with, “If you want.”

  She returned a smile that set his heart racing. Unlike the storm brewing outside, her eyes were as radiant as summer lightning, but it was her words that caught him off guard. “Hopefully, it won’t take you long. It’s been a while since I’ve had such enjoyable company.”

  On his way out, Rand stoked the fire to make certain it would keep the great room warm while he was gone. He wasn’t sure how to respond to Sarah’s comment, since he wasn’t accustomed to receiving compliments, so he had only nodded. Sarah Callahan must be loco or lived a very boring existence if he was the best company she’d enjoyed in a while.

  Sarah followed him to the door, and he felt her eyes on him as he pulled on his heavy sheepskin coat and Stetson and headed into a flurry of white, wet snow. He pulled the door closed, separating him from the most pleasant woman he believed he’d been around for a long time.

  At least not since . . .

  He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and forced himself to remember his pledge. He’d never be guilty of comparing one woman with another.

  Circling the building, even through the heavy snow he spied the carriage that Jim had driven to Carroll Creek to fetch Sarah and the children. Rand got busy checking it out, making sure the buggy was protected from the elements and that the horses were properly cared for.

  But everywhere the blacksmith turned, flashes of Sarah got in his way. Visions of her slender, willowy body with a strength that didn’t overshadow her femininity danced in his head. From the second he saw her, even with a big coat on and a hat covered with snow, he knew she was somebody he wouldn’t mind riding the river with.

  He couldn’t keep his mind off the way she looked when she knelt down to put the socks on the children. Wisps of hair the color of a wheat field framed her face. And when the lace at her throat had parted, he hadn’t been able to keep his gaze away from the hollow of the neck filled with soft shadows. Then she looked up at him with fiery blue eyes the color of the Texas sky on a clear day. Eyes that glowed with a challenge.

  Dang it, and the only thing he was able to come up with was some cockamamie question about fixin’ some milk for the children.

  What a way of making sure old feelings didn’t have a chance to surface.

  Frustration reared its ugly head. Rand found her nearness disturbing. Yet, in only a matter of minutes, she’d managed to open wounds that he thought were well on their way to healing. The sickening, familiar swell of pain ripped through him. Sarah had penetrated his being and touched his soft core in record time. Generally, he would never enter into another’s family business, but he recognized the hurt in Sarah’s eyes and felt the need to protect her from her own aunt.

  A flash of unadulterated guilt ripped through him. Damn it, he’d thought he’d managed to steer clear of the wrenching pain and shame for the loss of his wife, especially since the anniversary of her tragic death was on the horizon—Christmas Eve. Three days short of three years. Maybe holding on to blame was his way of keeping the hurt at bay or covering it up or ignoring it . . . or at least a way to make sure he never got hurt again.

  Walking into the stables he saw Big Tex and Bushwhacker, the horses who had brought Sarah and the children to Kasota Springs, in their stalls. Apparently happy to be out of the snow, they kept their heads in the feed sacks, more interested in the oats than Rand.

  Near the door sat a relatively big trunk, not nearly as large as Rand’s mother’s Saratoga, along with two smaller traveling bags. So far, Jim had kept his word.

  Rand took another gander around. Everything seemingly was in place, yet something was missing.

  Rand almost ran back into the corral near the wagon yard. Jughead, the most temperamental mule between the Canadian River and the Rio Grande, was nowhere to be found. With plenty of able-bodied horses around, why in the hell had his brother—correc
tion, half brother—stolen a dumbas-a-stump mule?

  Rand sat down on a bale of hay just inside the lean-to and stared out into the night, watching the howling north wind whip the snow around. He dusted snow off his beard. He’d been too busy to take good stock of the deteriorating weather conditions. Flakes no longer fell straight to the ground but blew horizontally, hurling into huge banks. He almost couldn’t make out his hand in front of his face.

  Jim Crockett couldn’t have made it far without losing his way in the snow. Rand had seen it before. Soon the town would be isolated and paralyzed. Only a fool would try to go anywhere . . . not tonight, not tomorrow, and most likely not the day afterward.

  Chapter 5

  Sarah tried not to think about her confrontation with Aunt Edwinna. She hadn’t been around her for a while, and as far as she was concerned, another three or four decades wouldn’t matter in the least. She was the most condescending woman Sarah believed she’d ever met; and since the birth of the twins, things had gotten more stressful between them. The worst part was, they were family and there wasn’t anything either of them could do about it.

  Shuddering, Sarah chastised herself for allowing her aunt to even talk her into coming to Kasota Springs in the first place. She would have been better off to have kept the twins in Carroll Creek and forgone the holiday festivities. A nice quiet, uneventful celebration of Christmas was more to her liking, but the twins needed to know their family . . . what was left of it.

  On the other hand, if Sarah had not come she’d not have met Randall Humphrey, probably the most intriguing man she’d ever come across. On the surface he was as pleasant as a rattler with a tummyache and the mind-set of a hungry coyote. Yet inside, he had to be a warm, caring man. For whatever reasons known only to him, he apparently didn’t want anyone to see that side of him. She found his displeasure with about everything around him amusing. Yep, she suspected the man had to work hard to uphold his beastly persona.

  The children were again asleep in front of the crackling fire. Sarah had taken Rand at his word and put the chicken and dumplin’s on to warm. She had located a chamber pot and had seen that the twins’ needs were taken care of. After washing their hands, they eagerly gobbled down the best dumplin’s Sarah believed she’d ever eaten. Quickly, the twins had settled back on their pallet and gone back to sleep while she cleaned up the kitchen area.

  Sarah found herself nodding off as she sat in the chair made for a big man, someone like Randall Humphrey. She didn’t want him to find her asleep for fear he’d think she wasn’t watching the children like she should. She picked up the book on the candle table. A Tale of Two Cities, and it’d been years since she’d read it. Once she opened the leatherbound volume, she found herself enthralled with the prose all over again.

  Minutes turned into an hour or more as she read, enjoying the opportunity to be drawn away from reality into a world of make-believe, something she had been doing quite religiously of late.

  She batted her eyes, but when they got too blurry to continue reading, she closed the book and returned it to where she found it.

  The weather worried her, and she paced the floor. Finding herself at the window that looked out across the town, she wiped a circle of moisture off the glass but saw nothing but white. Raging winds battered the panels of glass.

  Not having seen Rand for a while, Sarah prayed he was safe. The snow-laden winds could easily knock down the strongest of men. And no doubt Randall Humphrey was one strong man.

  After making sure the twins’ blankets were tucked warmly around them, she slipped back into the comfortable chair. Sarah snuggled deep inside the rough blanket, and in minutes she drifted off to sleep.

  Sometime later, after depositing Sarah’s trunk and two small bags just inside the door, Rand walked through the work area, removed his wet coat, gloves, and Stetson before warming up at the low-burning forge.

  He was as ready as he’d ever be to face his visitors.

  Although thoughts of Sarah hadn’t left him for long, he now dwelled on what he’d do with the little ones, who he figured to be about three or four years of age. He had little experience in that part of being around kids. Hell, he’d been stripped of that possibility three years ago. Even the town’s kids seemed to hide behind their mothers’ skirts when they saw him comin’ their way.

  After warming up both his body and his courage, Rand walked back through the blacksmith’s shop and pulled the heavy wooden doors shut behind him. Separating the work area from the living quarters would keep the great room warmer.

  He wasn’t sure what he expected to find inside, but a feeling of coming home certainly wasn’t it. The smell of coffee and tea hovered in the air, and for the first time he could remember, he actually smelled the wood burning in the hearth. What was wrong with him? Had his brain frozen just from being out in the freezing weather?

  For the life of him, he couldn’t bring himself to wake the angel sleeping in his chair. He looked down at the children. He couldn’t take the chance of having the fire go out during the night, because sleeping on the floor would be much like sleeping in a frozen creek bed. Besides, he needed to get them from underfoot as soon as possible. He didn’t want a couple of fussy honyocks around come morning.

  After all, Rand had work to get done, and if luck was with him, he could spend a quiet Christmas all by himself.

  He scooped up a child in each arm and climbed the stairs two at a time. When he reached his mother’s bedroom, he kicked the door open. His biggest concern, that the children would wake up and be frightened, didn’t materialize. Both nestled their faces close to his neck. He settled them in the bed before he located two quilts and carried the covers downstairs.

  Now he needed to do something with Sarah. She could sleep in the chair or he could take her to his bedroom upstairs. He kneeled down beside her, but for some reason he couldn’t bring himself to wake her up. She looked so peaceful, and no doubt she had had an exhausting day just traveling, without adding having to traipse through the snow to get to his place. The run-in with her aunt would have caused anxiety to even a rested person.

  Rand touched her arm with his finger kinda like he used to see his mama poke a loaf of bread dough when it was rising. He jerked his finger back, as though he thought she might snarl at him. He wasn’t sure he could handle a screaming, terrified woman waking up the whole town.

  He stepped back and stared down at Sarah. She didn’t move an iota. Hmm, what should he do now? He could swoop her up and carry her to his bed, but if she woke up she’d probably clobber him and might never speak to him again, so what to do?

  “Sarah.” He again squatted down and spoke softly. “Wake up.” He poked her again, then gently grasped her arm and shook her gingerly.

  She opened her eyes for only a second and drifted back to sleep, leaving him with two choices—let her sleep in the chair and possibly get a crick in her neck, or he could whisk her off to bed . . . his bed.

  He really didn’t have a choice. He wouldn’t be responsible for anything happening to her that would make it impossible for her to leave come morning.

  Rand didn’t have to sleep in his own room. Right now a hot cup of coffee, or some warm milkth, as Addie Claire called it, and a bed off the kitchen was good enough for him.

  Besides, he’d always liked the tiny cubbyhole to the more spacious room upstairs because he could hear any disturbances from the livery. It had an ol’ bed taken from a bunkhouse that was solid as a rock and somewhat comfortable.

  Tonight it’d be best anyway, because that way he’d know if anyone got up in the middle of the night. It’d also be quicker to get up at daybreak, so he could get everyone out of bed and, hopefully, dig out enough to get them to the Springs Hotel and to their aunt Edwinna.

  But first things first, moving Sarah without scaring the wits out of her.

  Not even becoming winded, Rand lifted Sarah into his arms and carried her to his bedroom.

  Weighing little more than a young fawn,
Sarah folded into him and slipped her arms around his neck. “Thank you,” she whispered. She smelled sweet and innocent and oh so welcome in his arms. The warmth of her words and the feel of her body against his caused unexpected sensations to rush through him, settling somewhere just as unexpected.

  Getting her settled in, he covered her with one of his mother’s quilts. Oh, how he was tempted to take advantage of her and see if her skin was as soft as he imagined and her lips as yielding as he figured they’d be, but he chastised himself for even the bastardly thoughts.

  The way he was feeling right now, one touch could stir up emotions he was determined to never feel again—not with a woman that wasn’t his wife. Maybe he needed a long walk in the snow to put out the fire raging in him.

  Reality set in. For all Rand knew, Sarah could be a married woman. Edwinna had only referred to her as her niece and the children as the twins. There was nothing in her appearance that screamed married—no wedding ring, but she wasn’t wearing widow’s weeds either. Sarah seemed much too proper to have children and not be wed.

  Rightfully, the whole issue should have been moot to him.

  By morning, if the weather cooperated and he could dig out, Sarah Callahan and the twins would be safely out of his life . . . and out of his bed.

  Chapter 6

  Somewhere between midnight and sunrise, Rand rolled over on his side and looked out the open door into the kitchen. Light flooded the room. It was early, very early. Long before sunrise. It’d been a while, but he recognized the weather phenomenon he knew as whiteout, where heavy snow turned night into day.

  Be it a one-inch or one-foot snowfall, nobody with any smarts about them would venture out, because they could get turned around in a heartbeat and never find their way to safety.

  There was no urgency to begin his day in this weather. Although there was a chill in the air, it wasn’t as cold as he thought it might be. The fire needed to be tended to, but since the room was still fairly comfortable, he’d stay put and enjoy the warmth of his bed. He rolled to his back and pulled the covers over his chest.