A Western Christmas Homecoming: Christmas Day Wedding Bells ; Snowbound in Big Springs ; Christmas with the Outlaw

by Lynna Banning

  As she closed the door, she took a moment and closed her eyes, letting the memories fully engulf her. Oh, how she’d missed having a Christmas tree. No matter how unconventional her growing up years may have been, she’d always had a Christmas tree. Most years it had been set up in her bedroom, which had made it all the more special, as had the way she and her mother would spend one entire evening decorating it.

  The box of ornaments they’d used were under the bed in her room, and each year she’d considered asking Chester about getting a tree, or even acquiring one herself, but had refrained. For as kind and generous as he could be at times, Chester was not the sentimental kind, and she’d surmised he wouldn’t have appreciated the fuss and hassle of a Christmas tree.

  Her belief was confirmed as Chester said, “What are you hauling that in here for?”

  “Because tomorrow is Christmas Eve,” Welles answered, standing the tree upright and twisting it until the cross boards nailed to the bottom of its trunk sat even. “Every house needs a Christmas tree on Christmas Eve.”

  “Says who?” Chester demanded.

  He was looking at her, and a bit of the happiness inside Sophie began to seep away.

  “Me,” Welles answered. He was looking at her, too. “What do you think, Sophie, right here, in front of the window?”

  “And who’s going to haul that thing out of here after Christmas?” Chester asked. “You’ll be long gone.”

  It might be a small step, but if she wanted things to change, she had to take steps in that direction. Her desire for a tree this year had increased tenfold this morning when Suzanne showed her the cookies she’d made to hang on their tree. “I will,” Sophie said. “And yes, right there is perfect.”

  “It is perfect.” Annie stepped closer to the tree as she whispered to the baby in her arms, “Look, Isaac, it’s your first Christmas tree.”

  Annie’s joy was so apparent, her wonderment so sincere, even Chester bowed his head with a touch of chagrin pinkening his weathered cheeks.

  With her eyes sparkling, Annie asked, “Can we pop some popcorn and string it? And we could make paper decorations, or tie ribbons on the branches.”

  Annie’s enthusiasm was like a summer breeze filling the room with warmth and happiness. Giving free rein for her own joy to grow, Sophie nodded. “Yes, yes, we can do all those things. And more. I’ll be right back.”

  Her excitement continued to grow as she hurried from the room and ran up the stairs. It had been years since she’d pulled out the box of ornaments, and the prospect of doing so had her heart welling with joy. It would be like having a piece of her mother back, a way to fill the void that had been inside her since her mother had died. She had mourned her mother’s death, but because of the circumstances, because of who her mother had been, had never truly allowed herself to cherish the wonderful memories she did have of her childhood.

  The crate wasn’t heavy, but it was large, and the contents fragile, so she forced herself to take a deep breath while pulling it out from under the bed and again as she hoisted it into her arms.

  Neither deep breath slowed the excitement that continued to build, but did give her the clarity to make the trip down the stairs with more caution than she’d used going up.

  Welles was in the kitchen, opening and closing cupboard doors. “Do we have any popcorn?” he asked.

  Gesturing with her chin, she replied, “In the cupboard next to the door. There’s a glass jar of it behind the cornmeal.”

  “I’ll get it,” Annie said, having laid Isaac in the basket sitting upon the table.

  “I’ll carry that for you,” Welles said, approaching the stairs.

  “That’s all right. I have it,” Sophie said, stepping off the staircase.

  “What’s in there?” Annie asked.

  “Ornaments.” The smile on her face grew with memories. “Beautiful ones.”

  Annie, now clutching the jar of popcorn to her chest, gasped. “Real ones? Store bought?”

  “Yes,” Sophie answered, holding on to the box a bit tighter as she walked across the kitchen. For the first time in years, it felt like Christmas inside her, and the anticipation of opening the box, of experiencing the memories, was joyfully overwhelming.

  Chester must have realized he’d met his match in this instance, because he was using his leather snippers to trim off a few wayward branches.

  Acknowledging his participation as she set the box on the sofa, Sophie said, “Thank you. It truly is a perfect tree now.”

  The old man grumbled, but the grin he tried to hide increased Sophie’s delight.

  “I’ve seen ornaments in stores,” Annie said, still clutching the popcorn jar. “But never knew anyone who owned any.”

  “Now you do,” Welles said, setting the basket holding Isaac on Chester’s worktable.

  Sophie squeezed her hands together in order to ease their trembling before opening the box. As the others gathered around, she sincerely hoped all of the ornaments had survived being stored for so long.

  “Oh, this is so exciting,” Annie whispered.

  “Come on, Sophie-girl,” Chester said. “Don’t keep us waiting.”

  Although Welles didn’t say anything, it was his gaze she met as Sophie glanced up. The smile on his face, the shine in his eyes, nearly took her breath away.

  “Open it,” he said quietly, nodding toward the box.

  She carefully untucked the edges of the canvas, and her hands trembled as she pulled it off the crate and set it aside. The straw had settled, but appeared undisturbed. As she brushed aside the top layer of straw, her own gasp couldn’t be contained. Lifting out the creamy-white porcelain angel with spun-glass wings, she had to blink aside the moisture that formed in her eyes.

  “We always hung this one on the very top, and packed it away last, so it could guard all the others.”

  She hadn’t realized she’d said that aloud until Annie spoke.

  “It’s beautiful,” the other woman whispered. “And so delicate.”

  “Did you hang it first?” Welles asked.

  Sophie shook her head. “We hung it on last, when the rest of the tree was completely decorated.”

  “Here,” he said, holding out a hand. “I’ll set it aside while you pull out the others.”

  Ready to see more, she handed him the angel, and reached into the straw to lift out the pink bell. There was an identical red one, and she picked that one up, as well. Handing the pink one to Annie, Sophie said, “Here, you hang this one.” Gently shaking the red one, she added, “But ring it first. That’s what my mother and I always did. It was our way of ringing in Christmas.”

  Annie shook the bell but said, “You hang yours first. It’s your tree, and your ornaments.”

  Sophie’s throat was swelling from memories. She and Mother had always hung the bells simultaneously. Speaking around the lump, she said, “No, you go ahead. It’s Isaac’s first Christmas tree. Hang the bell for him.”

  “Why don’t you hang them at the same time?” Welles asked.

  “Oh, yes,” Annie replied. “Let’s ring them first, and then hang them at the same time.”

  * * *

  Welles held his silence while watching Sophie. He’d thought the tree would make her happy, but hadn’t expected to see such a change in her. It was as if someone had lit a candle inside her, and it burned so bright, light filled the entire house.

  “All right,” she agreed with Annie’s suggestion.

  They both stepped forward, ringing the tiny bells before hooking them on suitable branches that took them each a moment to find.

  To his surprise, as both women laughed at their own branch-searching antics, Chester clapped his hands.

  “Well done. They look perfect,” Gramps said. “What else you got in that crate?”

  “The perfect one for you to hang up,” Sophi
e said, stepping closer to the box. “Just let me find it.” After setting several colorful glass balls aside, she pulled a miniature horseshoe out of the straw. “Here, Chester, this one is for you.”

  Gramps laughed and cheerfully took the ornament and hung it on the tree.

  “I have one for you, too, Welles.”

  His heart slowed to dull and heavy beats as she held up a single playing card. The ace of spades. A hole had been punched in the top and a red ribbon laced through it.

  “Hang it on the tree,” she said, handing it to him.

  He almost flinched as his fingers touched the card. They felt singed.

  “Oh, look at this one,” Annie said.

  Welles didn’t look; his eyes were on the card. He was a gambler, had been for years, but he’d never felt ashamed of it until this moment.

  “Hang it on the tree, Annie,” Sophie said. “Chester, here’s another one for you to hang.”

  “They are all so beautiful,” Annie said. “Where did you get them all?”

  “Around the world,” Sophie said. “Mother would order a new one each year, and we’d talk about where it came from and how we’d visit there someday.”

  As the ornament-hanging continued, Welles tucked the card into his pocket, and watched the others digging in the crate and pulling out baubles like they were hidden treasures. He hadn’t seen Gramps so cheerful in a long time, but more than that, he’d never, ever, seen Sophie so delighted. So happy as she shared that box of ornaments.

  That did something to him. Something odd and unique. In all his years of gambling, of winning pots of money, he’d never experienced the well of warmth that seemed to pour out of the center of his chest as Sophie’s delighted laughter tinkled the air.

  He didn’t even know what she was laughing about, but she was. Her eyes were sparkling, her cheeks shining, and she had a hand pressed to her heart. Gramps might have said or done something funny, or Annie, or even little Isaac. Welles had no idea, but at that moment, knew he was looking at something he’d love to see again. And again.

  Sophie happy.

  Sophie laughing.

  “Looks like that’s all of them, Sophie-girl,” Gramps said, pawing his big hands around in the straw.

  “Do we hang the angel now?” Annie asked.

  Welles had forgotten about the angel, and as he turned to retrieve it off the table, Sophie stopped him by laying a hand on his arm.

  “Not yet,” she said. “We have to pop and string the popcorn. The angel is the very last thing that goes on.”

  “I’ll go put a kettle on the stove and get some thread and needles,” Annie said.

  “Four needles,” Sophie said. “Everyone has to help.”

  She made a point of looking at him and Gramps, a look that said there would be no arguments, as she picked the jar of popcorn off the table.

  Gramps let out a long but satisfying sigh as he said, “That was a mighty fine thing you did here tonight, Welles. Bringing home this here tree. A mighty fine thing.”

  Welles nodded, but his eyes were on Sophie, who was still smiling brightly.

  “Yes, it was,” she said while turning toward the kitchen. “It truly was.”

  “Hold up there, Sophie,” Gramps said. “There’s something else in this crate.”

  Frowning slightly, she set the popcorn down.

  “It’s not an ornament, though,” Gramps said.

  Sophie’s gasp and the way she put a hand over her mouth had Welles turning toward Gramps.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “I don’t know.” Gramps lifted a small package out of the crate. “It looks like a present.”

  Glancing back toward Sophie, Welles moved, stepping up beside her and taking a hold of her arm.

  “What is it?” Annie asked, entering the room. “What’s happened? What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong.” Sophie sniffled and wiped at her eyes. “I’d forgotten about this part.”

  “What part?” Welles asked, increasing the hold he had on her arm as he felt her shake slightly.

  She was smiling, even as unshed tears glistened in her eyes. “Each year, when we packed away the ornaments, Mother always hid a present for me in the bottom of the crate. I’d forgotten all about that.” With a hand pressed to her chest again, she shook her head. “I shouldn’t have. It was always one of my favorite parts. An early Christmas present.”

  “You got to open it right away?” Welles asked.

  Once again she shook her head. “No, not until after we hung the angel.”

  Welles didn’t need to imagine how much that little present meant to her at this moment. The look on her face said it all. It even made him choke up. Clearing his throat, he draped an arm around Sophie’s shoulders. “We better get that popcorn popped, then.” As he used the arm to turn her about, he said, “Put the present under the tree, Gramps.”

  When the first batch of popcorn was done, he and Gramps were given instructions on how to string it together while Sophie popped a second batch and Annie saw to Isaac, but it wasn’t long before they were all four poking needles through the soft kernels.

  Gramps was telling stories of his childhood, and eating more popcorn than he was stringing, but no one minded. Especially Welles. The tiny needle felt far too small for his hands, and maneuvering into a fluffy kernel in such a way the end wouldn’t break off was nearly impossible, but he kept on trying. It was almost as if they were all racing, seeing who could get the most popcorn strung, but inside, he sensed the others were just as keen as he was to get the tree done so Sophie could open her gift.

  It struck him then that she might want to do that in private. Sitting on the floor next to the sofa that she and Annie sat upon, he touched her knee with one hand.

  “If you don’t want to open your gift in front of us, you don’t have to,” he said quiet enough for only her to hear.

  She shook her head, still smiling as bright as earlier. “No, I have to open it as soon as the tree is done. That’s what Mother would want.” She let out a little giggle. “Some years she was more excited than I was for me to open it because she’d forgotten what she’d wrapped.”

  “Oh, Sophie, you have such special memories,” Annie said. “I hope I can do the same for Isaac.”

  “You will.” Sophie’s expression grew serious as she turned his way. “Thank you, Welles.” She pinched her lips together for a moment. “You’ve allowed me to remember things that I should never have forgotten. Wonderful, wonderful things.”

  “Your mother was a great lady,” he said.

  “And a wonderful mother,” she said. “I should never have forgotten that.”

  About to get choked up again, he scrambled to his feet and held up his long string of popcorn. “Well, I think we have enough popcorn, don’t you?” He was about to let go of one end when she jumped up and grabbed his hand.

  “Don’t let go. It’ll fall off.”

  His heart had landed in his throat with enough force to make his eyes bug out. He hoped they weren’t, because looking into hers, directly, deeply, was the most fascinating thing. The warmth from her hand was spreading up his arm, across his chest and downward, stealing his breath.

  She let go, and blinked before looking aside and saying, “We have to tie the ends together.”

  Fighting the desire to pull her forward, wrap his arms around her and kiss her, left him incapable of moving for a moment. Until an ounce of common sense kicked in. He looked aside, too. “You’re right. I have to get rid of the needle first.”

  His heart was still pounding, his thoughts jumbled, but he managed to get the needle off the thread. He stood back while she and Annie tied the strings together and then wound the one long continuous strand around the tree.

  “It looks so beautiful,” Annie said as they stepped back to appreciate their handi
work. “Perfect, just perfect.”

  “Almost.” Without turning around, Sophie asked, “Welles, will you get the angel?”

  He walked over to Chester’s table. Isaac was in the basket, sleeping soundly, and that, too, seeing the baby resting so peacefully, so contently, touched him in a way he’d never been touched before. Not wanting to contemplate the whys and hows of the things affecting him tonight, he grabbed the angel, walked to the tree and handed it to Sophie.

  “I can’t reach,” she said. “You’ll have to do it.”

  Tonight was already making him wonder about things, so he said, “I’ll get you a chair.”

  “No, you do it.”

  The shimmer in her eyes almost undid him.

  “Just wrap the wire under its wings around the top branch,” she said.

  Stretching on his toes, he did as instructed, and was instantly awed by how the light caught in the spun-glass wings. Almost as if a real angel had entered the room, set upon granting all sorts of Christmas wishes.

  Chapter Nine

  Sophie sat on her bed, looking down at the open locket in her lap. The picture of Mother was beautiful, exactly as she remembered, and the perfect gift. The locket had been in the ornament box for four years, since their last Christmas together, yet looking at the picture inside the locket made it feel as if it had been yesterday.

  You can do anything, go anywhere, be anything you want to be, Sophie, her mother had said shortly before that fateful day. Don’t ever let anyone tell you differently. All you have to do is believe it. Mother had laughed and hugged her before adding, And be willing to work for it. It’s not just going to fall in your lap.

  “Oh, Mother, that’s what I’ve been doing, isn’t it? Waiting for it to fall in my lap. Waiting for Welles to return and fall in love with me.” Sophie drew a deep breath and glanced out the window, at the moon shining brightly. “He returned, but he hasn’t fallen in love with me, nor is he the kind of man I should marry.”