Those thoughts hung with him while he shoveled, and were still there when he entered the house that smelled of coffee and bacon. Sophie was now wearing a dress, and apron, and had her hair tied at the nape of her neck with a single blue ribbon. The locks formed long chestnut curlicues as they fell down her back.
“Take your coat off, boy, and come sit down so we eat while it’s hot,” Gramps said from his chair at the table. “That meal last night should have told you what a good cook Sophie-girl is.”
“It did,” Welles answered while taking off his coat. “The food smells as delicious this morning as last night’s tasted.”
“Well, quit lollygagging around and get over here,” Gramps said as Sophie set a platter of pancakes on the table. “Everything’s ready to eat and I’m hungry. Haven’t eaten since yesterday.”
Gramps made it sound like yesterday had been twenty-four hours ago rather than eight, but there was nothing unusual about that.
Welles arrived at the table in time to pull Sophie’s chair out. She frowned, but didn’t say anything as she sat and watched him walk around the table to sit across from her. Gramps was already filling his plate, handing over a platter of perfectly fried eggs.
Little was said while they ate, which was also not uncommon for Gramps. His meals had always been top priority. He had never been overly fussy about what he ate, as long as he ate, and ate his fill. Preferably without distraction.
Welles, on the other hand, preferred a bit of conversation. “This is delicious, Sophie,” he said, nodding when she looked up. The curve of her lips was the closest to a smile he’d seen since arriving. “Thank you. And you’ve done a great job with the livery. Everything is in tip-top shape. Those are some good-looking and well-cared-for horses out there.”
“Did you expect anything different?” Gramps asked before saying, “Pass me some more flapjacks, will you, girl?”
Her hint of a smile fell as she picked up the platter and handed it toward Gramps.
Holding down a flash of irritation, Welles said, “No, I didn’t expect any different. I was merely complimenting Sophie on the meal and her skills at taking care of the animals.”
“She’s a natural,” Gramps said. “Like you were.”
This time it was a hint of guilt he squashed before Welles said, “I’m happy she’s been here to help you.” After swallowing the last bite of food on his plate, he added, “And will continue to be.”
“Where are you going?” Gramps asked.
“To shovel the corral. The horses need to stretch their legs.”
“I don’t mean right now. Aren’t you here to stay?”
* * *
Sophie’s lungs started to burn, but she didn’t dare let her breath out until she heard Welles’s answer. She wasn’t sure what she wanted that answer to be. If he said he wasn’t staying, she wouldn’t need to leave, but Chester would be disappointed. He wanted Welles here. Had for years. And Welles should be here, taking care of Chester, not her.
Welles was already at the door and shrugging into his coat when he said, “It’ll be a day or two before we’ll be able to break the train loose from the tracks.”
As the hair at the base of her neck quivered, Sophie shifted slightly to look at Chester, whose gray brows were knitted together. A moment later the door shut.
“Well, that answers it, doesn’t it?” Chester said.
While she questioned what she’d missed, Chester asked, “You see that woman on the train? The one with the baby?”
“No. Why?”
“Just wondering.” Chester grabbed his coffee cup with one hand and his cane with the other. “I have a bridle to finish for Sheriff Kaplan.”
Sophie’s insides were doing all sorts of things as she watched him walk into the front room, where he’d moved his leather working tools and table to when the weather started turning too cool for him to work on the front porch. Colleen. If that was who the woman from the train was, it would explain why Welles hadn’t brought her to the house, knowing Chester may not be overly friendly to her.
The entire time she cleaned the kitchen, Sophie’s mind twisted and turned. Although Colleen had left town the same time as Welles had, no one had thought the two had left together, except somehow, her mother had known, and told Chester. In all the years since, he’d never made mention of that to anyone, including her, and she never told anyone, either, hoping it hadn’t been true. But it was.
Her curiosity, and concern, grew as she finished the morning chores, to the point she had to know. After bundling up to ward off as much of the wind as possible, she walked into the front room. “I’m going to the mercantile for a few things. Do you need anything?”
“How’s the coffee supply?”
That was the only thing he ever asked about. “I’ll pick some up.”
“Hurry back. I don’t like how that sky looks.”
Sophie nodded and hurried out the door, instantly wishing she’d put on the heavy coat she used for chores rather than the woman’s coat she wore for shopping trips. It had been her mother’s and a lovely shade of blue. However, made more for its stylish appeal, the blue coat wasn’t overly warm, especially as today’s wind was as bitter as it had been during yesterday’s blizzard.
After purchasing a few items, which took longer than it should have because news travels fast and Mrs. Hodgkin wanted to know if Welles had truly been the one who had walked to town and saved all those on the train, Sophie walked next door to the hotel.
Wes Merlin was as tall as most doorways and didn’t have a single hair on his head, but he was always smiling, including when Sophie walked into the hotel.
“Good morning, Sophie,” he greeted from behind his tall front desk. “What are you doing out and about so early this morning?”
“Good morning, Mr. Merlin,” she replied, closing the heavy door. “I had some shopping to do and thought I’d stop to check on the passengers. See if they need anything.”
“They’re all doing fine,” he said, “thanks to Welles.”
“That’s good to hear,” she said, wondering how to bring up the subject of the woman and baby.
Gesturing toward the arched doorway that led to the dining room, Wes said, “Most are having their breakfast. All except the woman. She was down for water earlier and accepted a cup of tea, but didn’t eat anything, even though I assured her it was on the house. I’ll ask Martha to go see to her after she’s done cooking breakfast for the others.”
Although Martha was Wes’s sister, she wasn’t nearly as friendly or kind as he was. She might be to others, but Sophie had never seen it. “Would you mind if I went and checked on the woman?”
Wes’s smile grew. “Would you? She hardly ate anything last night. She’s in room six.”
“Thank you,” Sophie said, moving toward the stairway. She was nervous, perhaps more nervous than she’d been in a long time. Or ever. Would Colleen recognize her? Remember her? Be irritated that she was living at Chester’s? There was a chance it wasn’t Colleen, but in some ways that was even more nerve-racking. Whoever this woman was, Welles had walked over three miles in a blinding blizzard to help her.
By the time she arrived at the door, Sophie’s stomach was churning at the idea of meeting the woman Welles must be in love with. There was no reason the idea should bother her as much as it did, but it did.
Drawing a deep breath, she knocked on the door and prepared herself by holding her breath and tightening every muscle. When a petite blonde woman with cautious blue eyes answered the door, Sophie didn’t know if she should be relieved, or worried.
Chapter Five
The snow was piling up again. He was either getting used to it, or spending a few hours with Jud and Suzanne had brightened his day so much the weather no longer bothered Welles. He tromped through the snow, thinking more about getting back to the house and enjoying lunch with Sop
hie and Gramps than the snow or the wind. He wasn’t even wondering what Sophie may have made for lunch.
Unlike Gramps, he’d never worried overly much about eating, but had to admit, the meal last night and this morning had been tasty. He’d eaten in some of the finest restaurants in some of the largest cities west of the Mississippi these past few years, but there was something about a home-cooked meal and sitting around the table with family that a restaurant, no matter how fancy or expensive, couldn’t compare with.
He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed that until visiting with Jud and Suzanne. She’d invited him to stay for lunch at their place, and the house had smelled wonderful from the bread she’d pulled out of the oven while they’d been visiting, but he’d declined. Not only would Gramps expect him home, that was also where he wanted to eat.
Visiting with Jud and watching the couple interact, laughing and teasing each other, and talking about the baby that would arrive within a couple of months, had him wondering if there were other things he was missing. Things he’d never had, or could remember having.
It had been just him and Gramps. Both his parents had died when he’d been so young he hardly remembered them, but after seeing how happy Jud was—the last person he’d have expected to be married, especially to Suzanne, a preacher’s daughter—Welles was thinking about his future. He’d always known there was more to life than the gambling he’d taken up the past few years. An occupation that had treated him very well, and he’d come to the conclusion he couldn’t think about what more meant. Or was. He’d made his choice.
That might change someday, but not here. Not as long as Sophie was here.
As he stepped onto the front porch, and stomped the snow off his boots, he told himself Gramps would understand why he couldn’t stay—once he got around to telling the old man.
The smell when he opened the front door made him grin. Fresh baked bread. He’d been hoping for that.
“Was wondering if you’d make it home in time for lunch,” Gramps said, pushing his chair away from his makeshift worktable in the parlor. The same table that used to be in the barn, where Gramps had spent hours upon hours tooling leather into bridles and halters. “Sophie likes to eat while it’s hot.”
“I know,” Welles said, taking off his coat. “You told me that, and that’s why I’m here before noon.”
“Where were you?” Gramps asked.
“I went over to see Jud’s shop and visited with him and Suzanne.”
“She settled that hooligan down, made him accept his responsibilities and become a respectable man,” Gramps said. “You should take note of that.”
An eerie little quiver tickled his spine as he wondered exactly what his grandfather was suggesting.
“Well, come on, let’s eat.” Gramps started walking toward the kitchen. “My stomach’s been growling since she pulled that bread out of the oven.”
Welles fell in step beside his grandfather, noting how much shorter and slower the man’s footsteps were now. He remembered how, for years, he’d had to run to keep up with Gramps.
Another memory struck him. The one day he hadn’t had to run to keep up. It had been a rainy day, and he’d been cold, inside and out, as the preacher had said the final words over the graves of his mother and father. Gramps had taken his hand, and slowly they’d walked out of the cemetery.
Don’t you worry none, Welles. You’ll always have me, Gramps had said. We’ll always have each other.
A hint of shame, at how he’d been the one to break that promise, washed over Welles as they entered the kitchen. While Gramps walked on, straight to the table, Welles stopped to stare at the woman setting a kettle in the center of the table. He wasn’t as shocked as he was confused.
Glancing from the woman to Sophie, his confusion increased.
“There was no reason for Annie and Isaac to stay at the hotel when we have plenty of room,” Sophie said.
“I hope you don’t mind,” Annie said.
Welles didn’t mind; he just didn’t see why. “No,” he said. “Not at all. As Sophie said, there’s plenty of room.”
Sophie’s gentle smile was for Annie, who smiled in return before she bowed her head.
“Thank you,” Annie whispered.
“Let’s eat while it’s hot,” Sophie said while walking toward the stove and pulling her apron off.
Welles walked around the table and pulled the chair out for Annie. Once she was seated, he moved over to pull one out for Sophie and waited while she hung the apron on a hook and walked back to the table.
As she was sitting, he whispered, “Where’s her baby?”
“Isaac,” Sophie said, as if making a point of saying the name, “is napping.”
Relief washed over him. For a moment he’d wondered if the baby had taken ill from the cold. Understanding that was still a possibility, he asked, “He’s doing all right?”
“Yes,” Sophie answered. “He’s fine.”
“Good to hear,” he said, moving to his own chair.
The stew was delicious and plentiful, and he smiled his thanks at Sophie. There was no use trying to start up a conversation. Gramps would stifle it until he’d eaten his fill.
Gramps soon dished up a second helping of stew, and passed the ladle to Welles. While he added another portion to his plate, a faint crying sound filtered the room.
Annie instantly jumped to her feet. “Excuse me.”
Welles waited until she’d disappeared at the top of the stairs before asking Sophie, “She wasn’t comfortable at the hotel?”
Anger snapped in her eyes as her lips puckered. “No. It’s full of men, other than Martha Merlin, and we all know how friendly she is.”
Welles nodded as he stuck his fork in a potato slice. “I didn’t think of that.”
Sophie set her fork down with a clatter. “Why would you want to expose your son to that?”
Gramps spit out his mouthful of food while Welles tried hard not to choke on his. His eyes were watering by the time a solid chunk of a potato went down.
“She told you that’s my son?”
“She didn’t need to. I knew the moment I saw him.”
“You knew—”
“Why didn’t you tell us?” Gramps asked.
Stunned they’d even think the baby was his, Welles shook his head. “There’s nothing to tell.”
“He has your eyes,” Sophie said.
“No, he doesn’t.” Anger rose at the idea they both thought so little of him. “I have my eyes.”
She pushed her chair away from the table. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. There’s no need to lie.”
He jumped to his feet and grabbed her arm as she stood. It bothered him deeply that she thought he’d lied about something like that. “I’m not. That’s not my baby.” His spine quivered at the coldness in Sophie’s eyes. “I’d never seen them before they boarded the train in Kansas.”
Her glare said she still didn’t believe him.
Could he blame her? He had lied to her before. When he left town and said he’d be back. Huffing out a breath, he said, “I don’t know why she’d say that, but it’s not true.”
“Did she tell you that, Sophie-girl?” Gramps asked.
Sophie took a deep breath and pulled her arm out of his hold before she said, “No, she didn’t.”
Welles was so relieved he wanted to sink back down in his chair, but didn’t because he wanted to know more. “Then why would you assume it?”
Huffing the air out of her lungs, she said, “Because there is no other reason for you to be here. You haven’t bothered to come home in five years.”
Irritated now because he couldn’t tell her the truth, not the whole truth, he said, “I haven’t traveled past here.”
Gramps, who had started eating again, set his fork down on his plate. “How long do you intend
to stay, now that you’ve traveled past?”
Welles questioned if now was the time, but ultimately knew it didn’t matter. He’d have to let them know sooner or later. “I’ll be heading to Denver as soon as the train is free. To a Christmas Day poker game. I’ve already paid the buy-in.”
“So, that’s not a lie,” Sophie said, looking as disgusted as she had earlier. “You have become a gambler.”
“I’ve never claimed it was a rumor,” he answered. “It’s how I’ve paid for the horses I’ve had delivered here over the past five years.” He’d never had this gut-churning need to justify his behaviors. Not in years, and didn’t appreciate it happening now. Gambling had been the way he’d paid Gramps back for the money Colleen had stolen, and more. Enough money to have dozens upon dozens of horses shipped home.
Sophie’s glare told him exactly what she thought of that, and him.
The real reason he’d continued to gamble, long after he’d earned back Gramps’s money, would no longer stay buried. He’d done it, become a full-time gambler, because of her. She hated gamblers, and that made him feel safe. That when he finally came home, she’d see that he wasn’t the type of man she needed, realize she needed someone stable, responsible, and that would once and for all set him free. If she hated him, then he could let go of any last hope of them ever being together and, in time, stop caring for her. Stop loving her.
Fully annoyed at himself, at her, at life, he said, “That’s what I do. I gamble.” Pointing toward the stairway, he added, “Not marry women and have babies. Only a foolish man does that.” Spinning around, he walked out of the room.
“Where you going?” Gramps asked.
“Out.”
* * *
Sophie tried hard to keep her emotions under control. What was usually a simple feat took great effort, but she managed to hold her tongue and the tears that burned the backs of her eyes. Keeping her attention on the tasks at hand, she began clearing the table, wishing the entire time that Welles had been married to Annie, and that Isaac was his son. That would have been easier than knowing he was a gambler.
A Western Christmas Homecoming: Christmas Day Wedding Bells ; Snowbound in Big Springs ; Christmas with the Outlaw Page 13