Western Kisses – Old West Christmas Romances (Boxed Set)

by Carré White

  “We’ve been through a few of them, but not others. If we can find anything they left – blankets, old windows, whatever they left – we can put it to some use. Firewood, too. I hate to do it, but there comes a time when it makes less sense to leave the stuff unused. And, if we’re going to have a guest for Christmas, we need to make sure there’s enough firewood to keep him warm, and for the stove. I’d ask about a big Christmas dinner, but I think that’s probably not likely to happen.”

  “Of course, yes, blankets and firewood and... did you say Christmas guest? Christmas dinner? How could we manage that? And why?” Lottie stared at her father, trying to divine his meaning.

  “You mustn’t have read your letter very carefully,” Will said with a sly grin. “He said he’s coming back in two months’ time, which will put your friend’s return right at Christmas. We can’t have company over the holiday without a proper meal, can we? Though, like I said, the production of a big meal is less of a concern than firewood and keeping warm.”

  Lottie was so flustered that before she could respond, her father was up and out the door. “Come on!” he shouted. “And bring those chickens. I don’t want to put my slippers on and find an egg in one of them.”

  Shooing the chickens out ahead of her, Lottie wondered if he meant what he said, or if he was just teasing her about the letter.

  Shaking herself back to reality, Lottie wrapped her quilted shawl tight around her face and neck and followed her father out, ready to brave the cold.

  ~*~

  Clearly, the people who abandoned their homes had done so in a fair amount of hurry. The pair managed to gather blankets, sheaves of cotton sheeting, even some spun wool from one homestead. From the other, they managed a pair of windows, and, to their surprise, a number of jarred jellies and canned vegetables and fruits stored in a cellar. All the seals were true, which Will tested by cracking open one can of peaches and drinking the juice.

  The trip back to the farmhouse seemed longer, but probably only because Lottie couldn’t push Colton Howe out of her mind. No matter what she did, her thoughts focused on his easy smile, his dimpled chin and his green, smoldering eyes.

  Those eyes that held her in place, kept her frozen for what seemed an eternity as he talked to her softly, caressing her being with his voice. Just the memory of his sweetness was enough to get a chill crawling down Lottie’s back, to raise those same feelings she had when she first saw him, but denied herself.

  “Something bothering you?” Will asked as he held the door open for his wool-laden daughter to walk through. “Been quiet all day.”

  She dropped the load on the floor, pushing it into a slightly neater pile with her toe before taking off her gloves, her scarf, and heading back to the stove to stoke it to life.

  “Lottie?” he repeated, chasing her to the back of the house. “What’s wrong?”

  “Wrong?” she looked confused, her brow pinched up and wrinkled. “Nothing’s—”

  Her voice dropped off as she jabbed the fire. She shrugged.

  “You can tell me anything, you know that.” Suddenly, her father realized what he thought he’d done. “I apologize if I made you uncomfortable with my teasing about that Colton Howe. Surely didn’t mean anything by it.”

  “No,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s not that. I’m just thinking. About all kinds of things. Being in those houses reminded me of when people lived here.”

  Her head drooped, either out of exhaustion at having carried all those supplies for over a mile, or something else, her father couldn’t tell. She took a deep breath, her shoulders rising all the way to her ears, and then she exhaled in a great gust.

  “It’s hard,” he finally said. “But when this war gets over with and everything gets back to normal, they’ll come back. Good land out here, they’re just scared.”

  “Will they?” she said in return. “Why? The Jenkins went to Oklahoma, and half the town went to either Oregon or California. Why would they come back here? When we were in those houses, it seemed like a ghost town. Felt like one, I mean.” She paused as a shiver took her and Lottie moved closer to the fire to warm herself.

  “I’m sorry,” she said a moment later. “Last year when we did this, I got sentimental. It’s just being in those empty houses... I remember the harvest time dances, and the town Christmases, and I just wish we could go back to that. Or go somewhere that they’d still be happening.”

  William’s face grew stern, but the caring never left his eyes. “If you want to leave, we can do it, Lottie.”

  “I...” she couldn’t say any more, not without tears, and she wasn’t going to allow that to happen.

  Her father crossed the room and took her in his arms. “I know it’s hard for you, with all your friends gone and nothing much good seeming to happen.”

  The rhythmic patting of his strong hand against her back, of his cradling her, lulled Lottie out of her assumed strength. First, a single tear fell down her cheek, and rolled to her lips. She sniffed, and Will held her tighter. His pats turned to patient, slow, warm circles that eased her quaking.

  “It’s okay,” he said. “Everything is fine, little girl. I’ll do anything that’ll make you feel better. It is terribly unfair of me to keep you here, isolated from the world, just because we own some land. If you want to go—”

  She pushed herself off his chest and looked up into his eyes. With red eyes and puffy cheeks, Lottie squeezed her eyelids tight as tears streamed down her cheeks. “I...” she sniffed again, breaking up her words. “I don’t want to be alone anymore.”

  “Shhh,” he soothed her, pulling her against his chest and smoothing her hair with his hand. “Just as soon as winter breaks, then, we’ll pack up the little we have, and get gone. If you want, I’m sure we can even hire out a wagon and take all these silly damned chickens with us, too.”

  In his arms, Lottie just let go.

  Her body shook with sobs, apparently spilling two years of emotion all at once. “I’m so sorry pa,” she said, streaking her father’s coat with tears. “I just can’t keep it in, I tried to be so strong, to keep from doing this, because I know how much it,” she sniffed. “I know how much this farm means to you and everything else, and I just didn’t want to hurt you.”

  Again, he patted Lottie softly and stroked her hair, trying to calm her shaking.

  “No, no,” he said softly. “No, this doesn’t matter at all to me. Land can be bought again, and houses can be built. They’re just things, little girl. If the Lord wanted us to covet them, mothers would birth houses instead of babies.”

  That got her chuckling through the tears. “I’m so sorry,” she repeated. “I want to be strong and help and everything, but it’s just so hard.”

  “I know it is,” he said. “And you are brave. If I went through the things you have as a child, there’s no chance I would have it through. You’re stronger than I ever was. We can only be brave and stoic for so long before we have to let our emotions out.”

  Lottie sniffed again and looked up at her father. “How do we make a Christmas dinner? I don’t have a goose.” And then, almost as an afterthought, she added, “Is mother proud of me?” through the tears.

  “Oh yes, baby girl, I know she is. The last thing she told me before,” Will swallowed. “She told me how beautiful she thought you were, and how strong you were even at a year old. I know she’s proud of you.”

  Nodding, Lottie stared at him with her bloodshot eyes. “What about the dinner?”

  Will smiled, and held her close.

  “We’ll figure something out,” he said. “We always do.”

  Chapter Five

  October came and went with very little event.

  Panhandle weather, normally very unpredictable, had stayed even for most of the month. Snow blew, wind howled, and through it all, Lottie and her father bunkered down as best they could.

  As the month grew long in the tooth, the winter deepened. Fluffy drifts piled up on the windward side of their h
ouse, and often for several days at a time, the most activity possible was waking up, starting a fire, and hoping the snow melted before cabin fever set in.

  Through all of it, Lottie never let that little folded letter out of her sight. Sometimes she carried it in her gown when she worked outside, and she put it alongside her bed every night before she said her prayers and closed her eyes.

  She never forgot him – never forgot Colton Howe – when she said those prayers, either. She asked after his safety, and for him to have a quick journey back. And she always asked that his uncle found him, and they came to terms with whatever it was that happened between them.

  One morning, when the rooster that her father finally allowed her to bring into the house and out of the horrifying, icy cold, crowed at sunrise, and then went directly back to sleep, Lottie sat up and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes.

  And then she heard a knock.

  With a start, she hopped out of bed, pulled on a gown to be at least presentable, and charged into the living room to an audience of three clucking chickens, one confused dog, and her father with a huge grin on his face.

  “I made breakfast!” he said. “Hope you’re hungry. We got eggs, biscuits, and I even pulled out some of that canned sausage and made patties.”

  Lottie smiled and sat down, but in the back of her mind, all she saw was Colton.

  “And,” Will said upon seeing her sullen face. “I can tell that this isn’t exactly what you had in mind when he ran out here in such a hurry.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s just that I keep thinking about Colton and worrying about his safety. I still can’t believe he’d do anything like shooting someone. It’s just... a gunfighter. It’s so unbelievable after all the politeness and manners he showed.”

  William shook his head and spooned up some eggs, sat a fat little sausage on top, and set the plate down in front of his daughter. “You’ve nothing to apologize for,” he said. “If he’s a man true to his word, we’ll hear from him before long anyway, and then maybe you can get some satisfaction as to his character. But, for what it’s worth,” he paused to take a sip of his almost oily, black coffee before continuing. “I’ve never met a gunfighter who could write a letter quite as eloquent as the one you’re liable to starve before giving up.”

  She laughed at his teasing, and immediately felt a bit of relief.

  “I think it’s just the weather,” she said, with a little hope in her voice. “When he came, I was lonely and bored and missing you, so it was just the perfect time. Then all that strange business with the Ranger and all, it was—”

  “I know,” her father said, patting her hand. “I remember when your mother and I first met. I pined for her like the world was going to end if I couldn’t court her. It was different of course, but I spent hours every day wishing against wish that somehow we’d end up sharing vows.”

  He’d never talked about her mother much, especially not about how they met, but as she listened, Lottie realized that her father was very, very much in love even after all these years.

  “What was it like?” she asked him as she took a bit of her breakfast. “Oh, this is actually good!”

  “What’s that supposed to mean? Of course it’s good! I didn’t spend those years as a trail cook for nothin’, you know.”

  “I’m sorry—” she cut herself off as soon as he let his eyes twinkle. “Oh you! You and the teasing! I was sure I’d somehow hurt your grizzled old feelings.”

  “And now she calls me grizzled and old. What wound won’t this daughter of mine prod?”

  They laughed for a moment, but when Lottie repeated her question about her mother, the tone went suddenly serious again. William chewed slowly, swallowed, and took a drink.

  He leveled his eyes at her, and seemed to concentrate on a far-off point on the horizon, staring straight through Lottie to that point, wherever it was. “It was a long time ago. But, I still remember every single bit of it. I don’t... well,” he took a deep breath. “You know I’ve never told you all this, and if I’m being honest it’s because it still hurts. A lot.”

  “I know pa,” Lottie said, patting the back of his hand, which William had unconsciously set atop the table. “If it’s too much, then—”

  He shook his head and wiped a little grease off his mustache. “She’s as much your mother as she was my wife. You deserve to know her.”

  Just his saying that was enough to raise a lump in Lottie’s throat, but she managed to keep herself quiet as her father spoke.

  “It was about thirty years ago when we met,” he leaned back in the chair, closed his eyes. He painted a picture of a vibrant little town and portrayed her mother as the beauty that sparked the emotions of every teenaged boy in, as her father told it, the entire state of Virginia. She’d heard plenty of stories about his hometown, which was a farm town a day’s ride from Richmond, but never these particular tales.

  “She was... well, you’ve seen that old picture of us. Your mother was a vision. Golden hair, just like yours, big, open eyes,” he paused, eyes flicking back and forth behind his lids. “But it wasn’t just how she looked. She had such a pure soul, such an open, beautiful innocence about her, and she was sharp as anything. Neither of us was exactly poor, but neither of us wealthy, you know. But she had books. I remember sitting there, after we’d begun to court, with her father and her mother in the front room of their farmhouse and just being dazzled by the things they discussed.”

  “Like what?” Lottie was enthralled. He’d always said she gotten her love of the written word from her mother.

  “Well the scriptures of course, but we all read that. The things her family discussed – history books, Shakespeare’s plays, Plato, Voltaire, and even our own President Jefferson who hadn’t been long in the ground – it was all so perplexing to a simple country boy like myself. You know, her mother and father traveled a great deal before they settled down in Virginia, so they had a different way of seeing the world.”

  His eyes misted over, but a smile dominated William’s face. “She was something special. There’s no question about that. And my word but was she ever kind and gentle, but at the same time, she wasn’t the sort to take an insult lying down. I remember, not long after we were married, but before we moved out this way, one of her mother’s friends insulted her for marrying a bumpkin like me.”

  “Surely not,” Lottie said with a bit of a gasp. “How awful!”

  “Well, in honesty it didn’t bother me much since it was, by all definition true. I got the best end of the deal. But, the way your mother laid into that woman, I’d never seen such a thing. She put every single fancy word she knew, and a whole lot that were decidedly less than fancy, to such beautiful use that at the end of it, that woman sat back in her chair and didn’t say another word the rest of the night.”

  The feet of Will’s chair hit the floor one after another, and he let out a long, rueful laugh that ended with him having to dab at his eyes with his napkin. “Anyway,” he said. “That was your mother. It’s been so long since she left us that time gets all jumbled up and confused in my old head, but I’ve never stopped loving her. Not for a moment.”

  Silence fell over the two of them and they both absently chewed at food and drank their coffee slowly. There was meaning to the quiet.

  After the dishes were cleaned and Lottie settled in for a few minutes scribbling in her journal, another knock at the door momentarily broke her attention, but remembering the alarm and then the subsequent disappointment from earlier, she remained seated, deciding it was probably just a branch falling from the weight of snow.

  Only when her father opened the door, let out a whistle and said, “I’ll be damned!” that Lottie shot to her feet and ran, as fast as she’d ever run, down the hall.

  “Colton!” she almost shrieked. “You came back!”

  “Well,” he said as he shook her father’s hand. “I figured with the winter setting in so early that you two might like a third hand to help out ar
ound these parts.”

  She could hardly control herself, but her father filled the breathless silence.

  “If you’re half as hard a worker as you are good a writer, you’re welcome to stay. William Wright,” he said, grasping the young man’s hand again and shaking. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

  Lottie took a step forward, almost lunging into Colton’s arms, but stopped herself. Instead, she extended her hand, which he took and turned over before pressing it to his lips. “You’ve no idea how nice it is to see a friendly face.”

  And then, to Lottie’s surprise, Colton wrapped her up, and held her tight. “It’s good to see that smile,” he said.

  Will cleared his throat.

  For a moment, he seemed embarrassed at how he’d behaved, but a second later he said, “That’s right, very sorry sir, two friendly faces.” He flashed the grin that stole her heart two months before. “I hate to be forward, but you wouldn’t happen to have any of them biscuits, would you?”

  Lottie didn’t remember the last time she’d seen quite a grin on her father’s face.

  ~*~

  “I’m not sure how much longer this weather will hold before we really need to buckle down,” Will said. “You certainly swing that axe well, Colton. Isn’t the first time you’ve swung one, huh?”

  “No,” Colton flexed himself tight, struck the thick hunk of wood in front of him and wiped his forehead with a bared forearm. “No sir, it isn’t. Built myself a cabin or two. Though, I have to admit that this,” he sucked a breath and chopped again. “This weather is a little more pleasant than doing such a thing in the San Antonio heat.”

  “Cabin, you said? Nice land down there?”

  “Oh sure,” Colton said. “Never known anything quite so beautiful. Rolling hills, couple of rivers. It’s the people that make the place though, I’ve always thought.”

  “I’d love to see it,” Lottie said as she bent to gather the chopped logs and arranged them on a sled to wait for transport. “I don’t believe I’ve ever been more than – what would you say pa? A couple of hours ride?”