* * *
Joe added enough logs to the fire to give several hours of burn. When Mary and the children woke there would be at least one warm room.
He gazed at the leap of the flames, listened to the comforting crackle of the burning wood. After a moment, he turned to look down at Amelia sleeping on the couch.
Poor little mite. She looked content, having just been fed, but if the wagon hadn’t overturned, she would be in her mama’s arms now.
“How would you feel about having a rough ole cowpoke hold you for a while?” He picked her up, then sat down on the couch. “I won’t be as soft as your ma...won’t smell as good, either, I reckon, but maybe I’ll do for tonight.”
He thought about his own mother. She’d fare all right in the blizzard. The hands at Landon Ranch could be counted on to watch out for her and Clay.
Part of the reason he concentrated his attention on the woman he loved above all others was to keep his mind off the one upstairs.
It didn’t take long to lose that battle. No matter what he tried to occupy his mind with, his thoughts returned to Mary.
Did she sleep in a sheer gown or a heavy warm one? Did her fair hair splay about her pillow or did she confine it to a braid? Did she keep her hands tucked under her chin or did she recline them on either side of her head with those slender fingers maybe tangled in her hair?
What a fine howdy-do. This line of thinking was bound to keep him from getting a wink of sleep.
Of course, Ma would be delighted to know this.
If there was one thing his mother wanted, it was for the ranch house to be overrun by grandbabies.
It was not likely that his brother, Clay, would provide them.
Clay was simple. Sweet and loving, yes, but his special mind would keep him Ma’s little boy for the rest of his life.
Not that Ma minded that. She had picked him because he was special. When he had been three years old, Clay’s natural parents had been ready to assign him to bedlam.
When Ma heard of it she had cried and prayed...prayed and cried.
He’d gotten a brother that year for Christmas, the best gift he’d ever received. That was even truer for Pa. Clay had made the last years of his life joyful.
Knowing that Clay was there to love Ma made it easier to leave the ranch for extended periods of time, as he was required to do.
And Ma deserved love. He wished he could expand her family...but a man couldn’t marry willy-nilly to achieve that goal.
He had wooed two lovely women, but when the time came for a proposal, he’d back out. Regrettably, with Veronica and Adele, he’d felt no sense of spirit harmony. Hadn’t felt it even after months of courtship.
He feared that the disappointments had left him cautious, a bit tarnished, maybe.
Odd that he’d felt an affinity for Mary, a woman he’d only just met.
It was all too perplexing to think about after the long day he’d had, and he was bone weary.
If only he could put images of Mary to bed...hell, to rest, was what he meant...he might be able to sleep. But try as he might, her smile and her gentle expression filled his mind.
In the morning he’d get to know her better. Over breakfast he’d discover who the woman was under those feminine nightclothes.
No...that’s not what he meant, either. But it was, in fact, true.
Physically, Mary was lovely, and he believed that at heart, where true beauty lived, she was exceptional.
The baby stirred. He rocked her, crooned some nonsense baby words. When he did, he noticed a stack of well-worn sheets of paper on the small table beside the couch.
The handwriting on the top one appeared childish. Curious, he picked it up.
It was a letter to Santa from Dan. He wanted a horse. On its own, a letter to the jolly man was special, but a letter from an orphan...
Something twisted in his gut.
The next letter was begun in a barely legible hand. He would not have been able to read it if it had not been finished by an adult. Judging by the pretty swirls and flourishes, it had been Mary.
“‘Dear Santa Claus,’” he read out loud. “‘Please bring me a ma to love me and fix my hair up pretty. Dan says you can’t bring that, but I believe. Love from Maudie. P.S. I have not been naughty, not even once. P.P.S. Just once, but only a little bit.’”
If his heart had twisted for Dan, it downright wrenched for Maudie.
The next two letters Mary had written on behalf of the twins. Brody wanted a dog. Luckily, there was a dog needing a boy.
Caleb wanted a pa.
“Hell,” he whispered.
They could have the dog, and Joe had horses to spare at the ranch. The problem was, a horse required care and feeding. Couldn’t expect an orphan bound for the train to provide that.
Even given the problems, Dan’s wish was easier filled than Maudie’s and Caleb’s. A ma and a pa...that was a bit too much to ask, even of Santa.
“What do you reckon Mary wants?” he asked Amelia. “What is it that—”
Suddenly, he knew... Mary wanted a baby.
Remembering the way she had looked so longingly at the child, he should have guessed it right off.
There must be something keeping her from having one...or maybe she’d had one and lost it.
Sad that some folks needed children and didn’t have them. Equally sad that innocent children needed parents and lived in orphanages.
Praise the good Lord that there were women like his mother and Mary who were willing to love them.
It couldn’t be easy for Mary, knowing what was in the children’s letters to Santa and being helpless to do anything about it.
She must have been relieved when he’d knocked at the door and in sauntered a dog. No wonder she hadn’t minded the mess the hairy thing had made.
He could only imagine how she’d felt when she’d spotted the horse. Her heart must have tripped over.
Must have seemed more than chance...a dog and a horse.
But it wasn’t until he placed Amelia in her arms that she had swooned.
Thinking on it, the dog and the horse would have been a dream come to life.
But the baby! She must have seemed a miracle.
He didn’t want to think how hard he had made things for Mary—by handing her the thing she wanted most.
Any number of families would be given an infant before a woman on her own would.
“Hell again,” he sighed.
Trying to settle on the couch, he stretched out full length with the baby on his chest and his arms cradled about her.
Just as well give up any idea of getting some shut-eye. Mary had walked straight into his heart and damned if he could get her out...and damned if he wanted to.
Chapter Four
Dozing on the couch, Joe half roused to the puff of warm breath on his face.
Too sweet to be the dog’s. Not the baby’s—she continued to sleep soundly on his chest. He wasn’t lucky enough for it to be Mary’s.
Was it even dawn? He didn’t think so, but the intensity of the blizzard made it difficult to tell.
Coming fully awake, he peered into the face hovering over him.
“Maudie?” It could only be.
The little girl nodded, her brown eyes somber yet wide with curiosity.
“Is anyone else awake?”
She started to say something, but shook her head instead. Blond curls shivered about her face.
Careful not to jostle Amelia, he sat up.
“A pleasure to meet you, Miss Maudie.”
Once again she nodded her head. He suspected she wanted to smile—her lips twitched ever so slightly—but she held it back.
After regarding him silently for a moment, she turned her attention to the baby, touched the small fist. Amelia woke up.
The baby flashed a great smile. Maudie smiled back.
“This is Amelia,” he said. “Would you like to hold her?”
Vigorous nodding indicated that she would.
Odd that Mary had not indicated that the little girl could not speak.
Maudie climbed onto the couch and he settled the baby in her arms.
“Just keep your arm behind her neck, give her some support.”
Maudie followed his instructions with an ease that told him she had handled an infant before.
“Would you like to tell the baby your name?” he asked, testing to see if she was actually mute.
“Hello, Amelia,” she said. “I’m Maudie. Are you an orphan, like me?”
“She is.”
“Don’t worry, baby, you’re so cute and little, somebody will want you.”
“You’re doing a good job, Maudie. I think you’ve held a baby before.”
She glanced up at him with a grin. Odd that she would speak to Amelia, but answer him with only nods and smiles.
“Is there some reason that you won’t speak to me?” he said, sitting down beside her.
“The reverend says not to speak to strangers unless they’re looking to adopt you.”
“I’m Joe Landon. I got here last night after you were in bed.”
“I’d best not keep talking, Joe Landon, unless you came to adopt me. You are a stranger, even if I know your name.”
“You’re a fine little girl, Maudie, but the reason I’m here is because I brought Amelia.”
Maudie nodded, then leaned down to kiss Amelia’s cheek.
“I’m an orphan, just like you,” he told her. “So I reckon I’m not such a stranger after all.”
“Did your mama and papa get sick and die, too?”
“They did.”
Apparently she no longer considered him a stranger, because she leaned against him and rested her head on his arm.
“I had a baby sister...she died with Mama and Papa, so I came to live with the reverend.”
“When I was adopted by my new mother, I was older than you.”
“You were?” Her eyes grew round, hopeful looking. “Maybe someone besides Mr. Blankford will want me. I’m not so very old.”
It was hard to imagine who wouldn’t want her. Miss Maudie was an exceptionally charming child.
“Is that your dog?”
“It came with Amelia. I reckon it’s an orphan like the rest of us,” he said.
“He’ll need a name, then.”
“Maybe you can name it, once we find out if it’s a he or a she.”
“He’s a boy for sure. When I came down I caught him peeing on the firewood. His leg was lifted.”
“We’ll have to excuse him this once—what with all the bad weather, he wouldn’t want to go outside.” Joe looked at the woodpile beside the hearth. Sure enough, there was a dark stain dribbling down the logs. “Poor fella’s probably confused, missing his folks.”
“Do you think Brody can have him? He wants a dog more than he wants a new ma and pa.” She glanced up at him, her eyes clouding suddenly. “It must be because he can’t remember the old ones. He and Caleb were only one year old when somebody left them and ran away.”
He’d have cussed a blue line at the cruelty of it had it not been for Maudie and Amelia sitting beside him.
He was saved from the lingering temptation by the sound of small footsteps pounding down the stairs.
“Santa comed! Look! He bringed me a dog!”
* * *
Mary was not certain that Brody wasn’t correct. She hurried after him and Caleb, stuffing her hair into a bun as she trailed them down the stairs.
Only last night, she had been near tears wondering what to do about the letters to Santa. This morning there was a dog spreading brown fur all over the house. There was a horse waiting to be ridden about the stable as soon as the weather cleared.
For Dan’s sake it had better be soon. She had heard his restless tossing in the wee hours and doubted that he had slept a wink.
“And I got a pa!” Caleb shouted then tore across the parlor to leap onto Joe’s lap.
To her relief, Joe opened his arms to welcome the boy.
In a moment Caleb would have to be told that this was not a papa brought by Santa, but for this one instant, she couldn’t find the heart to say so.
“It’s not Christmas yet, Caleb,” Maudie informed him. “He’s not your papa...but we can talk to him because he’s not a stranger.”
“Is so my pa!” Caleb snuggled his head against Joe’s shoulder.
Joe glanced at Mary, his expression stricken.
“This is Joe Landon,” Maudie explained. “Santa didn’t bring him, because he’s an orphan, just like us.”
Mary nearly missed the bottom step. No wonder he looked so pained. He had walked in these children’s shoes.
“Caleb,” she said, trying to figure a way to rescue Joe from his predicament. “Did you see the dog? Wouldn’t you like to pet it?”
“Him,” Joe said with a sudden grin and a nod at the firewood.
“Yep. I’ll be right back, Pa.” Caleb hugged Joe tight around the neck, then dashed off to join his brother in squeezing the dog’s big, hairy middle.
He looked like a patient animal. She was plenty grateful for that. A stain or two would be a small price to pay to see the boys happy.
“He’ll need a name,” Joe said, getting up from the couch to squat down beside the twins.
“Santa would want Brody to choose,” Caleb said.
“Santa didn’t come yet!” Maudie called, a frown creasing her brow.
Poor baby. She would not believe that Santa had already come, because that would mean that he had failed to bring her a mother.
It couldn’t be that Caleb and Brody would get their wishes and she would not get hers.
All of a sudden Mary’s head pounded. Christmas was coming down upon her like a hammer on a nail.
What was she to do?
Prepare breakfast, that’s what. Flapjacks were predictable. Mix the batter, pour dollops of it onto a skillet and you got what you wanted.
“Let’s name the dog Rover, Pa!” she heard Caleb exclaim.
“You don’t get to choose!” Brody cried. “He’s my dog. Hey, Pa, how ’bout we call him Bounder?”
“You don’t get to call my pa Pa!”
“Do so! Your pa is my pa too ’cause we’re brothers.”
“Then that’s my dog as much as yours.”
At that, Maudie began to cry.
Since Joe was the one who had brought the blessings and the troubles, she left him to sort things out.
A task with a predictable outcome awaited her in the kitchen.
* * *
It had been nearly twenty-four hours since the blizzard began and still, sheets of white blew past the parlor window. Mary smeared the moisture that had formed on the inside of the glass with her fingertips.
The children must have gotten used to the constant noise that battered the house, because they slept peacefully in their beds, from youngest to oldest.
She couldn’t help but wonder if it had to do with there being a “pa” in the house. Perhaps it was his presence that made them feel secure.
There was no denying that she would sleep more soundly knowing Joe would be downstairs.
Funny, the reverend had never made her feel that way. Of course, there was a huge difference between the men.
The reverend’s round eyes had a tendency to blink, giving him the appearance of an owl. Occasionally, this made him seem wise, but most of the time he just looked nervous.
The reverend was slight of build, his demeanor typically serious.
Joe Landon looked as though he might break out in laughter at any given moment, yet there was that in him that seemed deeply sensitive. Even though she’d known him only a short time, she had seen evidence that he was a man of great compassion.
Moreover, he was far from slight of frame. Indeed, he was very well put together, with a muscular build and a confident stance. Add to that his dark curly hair, those sparkling blue eyes...well, he quite turned a woman’s head.
Boot step
s clicked across the floor behind her.
She turned from the window to see Joe reach for his big coat where it hung on the rack.
“I’m going to see to the animals,” he said, sliding his capable-looking arms into the sleeves.
“It’s late.” She hated to have him go out in the weather even though the task needed doing.
The children had kept their “pa” busy all day and well into the evening. In truth, Joe had seemed to be having as much fun as the children, giving piggyback rides, tossing the little ones into the air and playing hide-and-seek.
In her opinion, he would be an excellent father, one who would delight in the job. It was a shame that he was not married so that he could adopt one or two of the children, as they clearly doted on him.
“I’ll come and help.” It wasn’t right that he should have to do the chores alone, and to be quite truthful, she wanted to spend time with him.
“You’ve done enough today. Put your feet up by the fire. Besides, it’s awfully cold out there. I’ll see to things.”
She shook her head. “I need to get out of the house. And it’s only a short distance to the stable. How cold can it be?”
Cold enough that, four steps onto the porch, she found that she could not breathe.
“You’ve got to walk backward.” He took her by the shoulders and spun her about to face him. Wrapping the edges of his coat about her, he buttoned it, tucking her neatly inside. “Wrap your arms around me and hold on.”
With one hand on the rope that he had strung from the porch rail to the stable door, and the other about her back, he pulled them against the wind, inch by freezing inch.
“Easy now, slow and steady breaths.”
Easier said than done. While the icy air no longer robbed her breath, Joe did. With each step she took backward, her chest rubbed against his. His breath, fogging the air, hit her face in warm puffs.
There was a furrow in the snow beside the rope that had been formed by repeated trips to the stable to let the children ride the horse.
Her foot caught a divot and she slipped.
“Got you.” Joe supported her with his arm bracing her back.
She placed her hands on his shoulders and all of a sudden Joe led them in a quick step-hop-step.
Dreaming of a Western Christmas: His Christmas BelleThe Cowboy of Christmas PastSnowbound with the Cowboy Page 22