Lark had never known such an occasion! All the while they worked to embellish the tree, she bathed in the wonder of such warmth and friendship. Finally, once Slater and Tom had placed tiny candles on many of the tree boughs and then carefully lit them, Lark felt tears brimming in her eyes, for she’d never seen anything so beautiful—not in all her life! Still, even more beautiful than the tree were the resplendent, beaming faces of the children as they gazed at the finished creation that branded itself forever in her memory.
Tom hung a sprig of mistletoe in the parlor, and it became the obsessive intention of young Johnny to capture Lark unaware beneath it. Lark was sympathetic toward his feelings, yet it was Slater who suggested she allow the boy to catch her once or twice beneath the sprig of kissing plant. She did—twice—both times placing a sisterly kiss on Johnny’s blushing cheek.
Evenings were spent in the parlor sitting before the hearth, eating more of Slater’s popped corn and listening to the reminiscent tales told by Slater, Tom, and Katherine. The children often played games or worked puzzles. At times, Katherine’s spirits were low in missing her husband. Still, Lark tried to distract her—to keep her busy with baking and other preparations. In truth, Lark worked harder than ever she had before. Still, she was happy. Oh, she longed for Slater’s touch—for his attention and kiss—that was true enough. Yet again, she convinced herself that she must be glad he had kissed her at all—joyful that she’d known a moment in his arms. After all, it was more than she’d ever hoped for.
Little Charlie had taken to sitting in Lark’s lap in the evenings. Slater had brought his mother’s old rocker down from the attic, and each evening Lark would settle in it, cradling Charlie as she rocked and softly sang to him. It seemed this helped Charlie to sleep through the night—to keep him in his own bed with Johnny, instead of finding him sprawled in Slater’s. Oh, once in a while he still begged Slater to keep him safe—sniffling and telling the big, strong, soft-hearted rancher that he was scared and missed his daddy—and would only go back to sleep if Slater cuddled him up. Slater could never refuse the boy, of course. Still, Lark’s lullaby rocking, combined with Katherine’s tender kisses and encouragements, found Slater able to obtain a good night’s sleep more often than not.
For near to a month, everyone at the Evans ranch had been anxiously anticipating the festivities of the Christmas social in town. There was to be ham and cake, cookies and games, music and dancing. Lark had worked long and hard with Johnny in teaching him to dance. She’d even managed to stitch herself a new dress out of the pink calico she’d purchased from Mrs. Gunderson. Still, as Christmas Eve dawned, a violent snowstorm made attending the social impossible. Everyone was disappointed. Slater and Tom invited the cowboys up from the bunkhouse for an early supper, and Lark thought that perhaps Eldon, Ralston, and Grady were near as disappointed in the weather keeping them from the social as the children were. No doubt they’d had their hearts set on dancing with a pretty girl or two. Still, the meal in the house seemed to soothe them, and they headed back to the bunkhouse with “Merry Christmas” on their lips and arms filled with gifts.
As the snow continued to blow, Lark tried not to let her anxieties concerning cold and winter eclipse her delight in the evening. The sun had set, and all was dark and windy outside. Still, it was warm in the house—especially the parlor where everyone had gathered to enjoy the lovely tree.
“Will Santa Claus come?” Lizzy asked. The worry on her face caused Lark’s heart to ache. She hadn’t forgotten the hope that burned in a child’s bosom where dreams of Saint Nicholas were concerned.
“Well, it’s a terrible storm, darlin’,” Katherine began. “We wouldn’t want Santa to put himself in any danger, now would we?”
“Storm?” Tom exclaimed, however. “Ain’t a storm ever been brewed that could keep ol’ Santy from makin’ his rounds. Ain’t that right, Slater?”
“Dang right,” Slater affirmed. “Why, when me and Tom were little…once it snowed so hard it was deeper than the front door was high. We couldn’t get out of the house Christmas mornin’, but right there under our Christmas tree…Santy left me a bright red wagon. And Tom? Well, Tom got hisself a big ol’ rockin’ pony! Santy always finds a way,” Slater said, nodding with assurance. “So don’t you worry, Lizzy.”
“That’s right,” Tom added. “And you young-uns best think about gettin’ along to bed now so as he can make his visit.”
Lizzy and Charlie squealed with delight, their eyes filled with the bright light of excitement.
Charlie hopped down off Lark’s lap and ran to his mother. Throwing his arms around her neck, he chirped, “I’ll even stay in my bed all night, Mama!”
“Good, honey,” Katherine said, smiling.
“Guess I oughta turn in too,” Johnny grumbled.
Katherine glanced to Lark, and they both stifled giggles. Johnny was as excited about Christmas as the younger children were. It showed—no matter how hard he tried not to let it. Lark giggled as she listened to Charlie’s and Lizzy’s small feet racing down the hall toward their beds. Johnny lumbered along after them, attempting to appear indifferent.
“Oh, Slater! Tom!” Katherine unexpectedly scolded then. “I wish you wouldn’t have gotten their hopes up so! You know I haven’t had a chance to get to town to…to talk to Santa Claus. I barely had enough time to make the things I have for them. Now they’ll be expectin’ Santa to have been here! I oughta paddle both your behinds.” Katherine’s face showed deep concern.
Slater and Tom exchanged glances with one another, and Lark smiled, for she recognized the Evans mischief when she saw it.
Tom said, “Don’t you worry none, Katie. Santy always visits us…no matter what the weather. Ain’t that right, Slater?”
Slater nodded. “Yep. Santy always comes.” He paused, smiling at Katherine. “You know me and Tom better than to think we wouldn’t have planned for Santy. Shame on you, girl.”
“What do you mean you planned for him?” Katherine asked.
“Don’t worry about it, Kate. Me and Tom know what we’re doin’.”
“But—” Katherine began.
“Remember that one Christmas when me and you was about fifteen, Katie?” Tom interrupted. He looked to Slater. “That one when you was home, Slater. Remember the town social that year?”
Lark grinned knowingly at Tom. He was only trying to distract Katherine from worrying about Santa Claus.
“Yes, I remember it,” Slater grumbled. “And you don’t need to be bringin’ that up.”
“Oh yes! The town social!” Katie laughed. “Tell the story, Tom. You’re so good at it…and I’d bet my bloomers that Lark hasn’t ever heard it.” Katherine giggled, winking at Lark.
“And she don’t need to,” Slater said, wagging an index finger at his brother.
“Well, now…let me see,” Tom began thoughtfully. He stretched his legs in front of him as he leaned back on the sofa. Tucking his hands behind his head, he continued, “Seems like it was one of the few times you was home for Christmas. Ain’t that right, Slater?”
“I was home plenty for Christmas,” Slater mumbled. Lark watched as he stoked the fire—wondering if his cheeks were red from the heat of the flames or from anticipation of the story Tom was about to tell.
“Yep,” Tom sighed. “I believe that Katie and me was about fifteen or so…you bein’ all growed up and seventeen.” Tom chuckled and smiled at Lark. “Seems old Slater…he was pretty puffed up in hisself, ya see, honey,” he told her. “You know, him bein’ so young and cowboyin’ so long and all. This was before…anyhow, we all went to town for the social. Ol’ Slater didn’t ride in the wagon with me and Daddy and Mama…no, sir. Slater rode his own horse, ’cause he was a man and too old to be ridin’ in the back of the wagon.”
“I was a man,” Slater said. “Mama was still wipin’ yer nose then.”
Tom chuckled and winked at Lark. Katherine winked at her too, and Lark’s curiosity grew. Apparently this was a story that
promised to embarrass Slater somewhat, and she was impatient to hear it.
“So, ol’ Slater comes a-ridin’ into the town social all spiffied up…cleanest white shirt I ever did see him wear, before or since. He had hisself a little bow tie at his neck…hair slicked back and smellin’ like a rose.”
“I never once smelled like a rose, Tom,” Slater growled.
“Well, smellin’ like a lilac then,” Tom teased.
Slater shook his head and continued to toy with the logs in the fire.
“Oh yes,” Tom chuckled, “he sent them girlies to swoonin’ right and left!” He paused to chuckle once more. “Yep, them young female-type hearts just took to beatin’ like bird wings; a few of the old ones took to hammerin’ too.”
Katherine giggled and nodded to Lark in affirming that Tom was not exaggerating.
“Well, there was this mistletoe a-hangin’ up over the punch bowl, ya see. Old Slater, he don’t never pay attention to what’s a-hangin’ up over his head…so he waltzes over all handsome and manly like to get hisself a cup of punch.” Tom chuckled, and Slater inhaled a deep breath, shaking his head with disapproval.
“Quick as Slater gets to that there punch bowl and starts a-spoonin’ out a cup, all these young, wild females come a-flockin’ over…gigglin’ and grinnin’ like lunatic women.”
“You know, you wind a tale up way more than ya need to, Tom,” Slater interjected.
Tom ignored him, however. “One of these silly fillies…well, she sorta points up, like this.” Tom raised an index finger toward the ceiling. “Ol’ Slater, he looks up and sees that mistletoe hangin’ there…figures he’s in a real tight predicament. He’s still holdin’ his punch cup, but he’s a-lookin’ around at all them pretty young girls a-wantin’ to do some smoochin’ with him. He don’t see ol’ Johnny Thornquist sneak up all quiet like and pour hard liquor into his cup of punch.”
Lark smiled and glanced to Katherine. Katherine was smiling, nodding in affirmation of Tom’s tale. Lark was mesmerized. She’d heard Slater and Tom tell stories before, but this one was exceptionally interesting. Slater still hunkered before the fire, shaking his head.
“Keep goin’, Tom,” Katherine prodded. “Don’t quit there.”
Tom nodded. “Well, ol’ Slater…he used to get a might nervous when it came to flirtin’ and sparkin’ and such…so he ain’t watchin’ what Johnny’s doin’. He’s too busy lookin’ around, feelin’ a little too warm…a little too much like side a beef that’s been throw’d to a pack of starvin’ dogs.”
“Oh, come on, Tom,” Slater growled.
Katherine and Lark giggled as Slater exhaled a heavy sigh.
“So, what he does is…he up and empties that whole cup of punch right down his throat.” Tom paused, shaking his head with obvious admiration. “To this day I don’t know how he gulped down that rotgut without droppin’ dead…or at least coughin’ a bit,” he said. “Well, next thing we know, Slater starts into lettin’ all them pretty girls kiss all over him. Oh, he was blushin’ beet-red all the while…don’t get me wrong. But all the same…they was kissin’ all over him. I ain’t never seen the like of it since.”
Lark looked to Katherine, thinking Tom might be embellishing the story somewhat.
“It’s true,” Katherine said, however.
“And good old Johnny…he wasn’t one to miss an opportunity,” Tom continued. “Johnny was a rotten little prankster as a kid, and ol’ Johnny fills up Slater’s little punch cup again…addin’ in his own contents again. So when Slater takes a breath from all that smoochin’, he picks up his cup…and since he ain’t payin’ a lick of notice to anything else, he slams down another cup full of hard liquor. Now, Lark, you know me and Slater don’t drink as a rule. And bein’ so young and not toughened up to the strength of whiskey or nothin’…well, that ol’ rotgut is startin’ in on ol’ Slater mighty quick. Before long, Slater starts plain enjoyin’ all that smoochin’. I looked over, and there he was…wrappin’ them girls up in his arms and plantin’ big juicy kisses all over their faces…kissin’ some of ’em square on the mouth!”
“All right, all right,” Slater grumbled. He stood, turning his back to the fire. “Now, that’s enough of that bull, Tom.”
“Oh no, it’s not,” Katherine giggled. “Finish it, Tom. Oh, Lark…it gets better!”
Lark’s smile broadened, though jealousy pricked her heart too. She didn’t enjoy thinking of Slater kissing anyone else—no matter what the circumstances.
Tom cleared his throat, looking directly at Slater as he said, “Well…to cut a long story into pieces…some of them girls’ daddies had to throw Slater out of the social! He was dang near attackin’ everything in a dress he could get his hands on by the time they tossed him out. A couple of fellers tried to ask him to leave, all nice and polite like…but Slater just kept kissin’ the girls. It was a sight to see!”
“And the girls were just devastated when he left!” Katherine giggled. “Sobbin’ and carryin’ on…beggin’ their daddies to let Slater stay at the social. I thought Emma Jean Gunderson was gonna have a lunatic fit! The way she was carryin’ on…beggin’ her daddy to let Slater kiss her just once more.”
“I remember that!” Tom laughed then, slapping his knee as mirth overcame him. “ ‘But, daddy,’ she was hollerin’.”
“ ‘It’s just mistletoe…it’s tradition!’ ” Tom and Katherine exclaimed in unison.
Lark cupped her hands over her mouth as ripples of laughter overtook her. She glanced up to Slater, and he rolled his eyes with exasperation.
“Ooo, boy! Was he sick the next mornin’!” Tom laughed. “Sicker than I ever seen him since!”
Lark’s laughter entirely erupted as Tom and Katherine bent over with mirth.
Slater, however, frowned at his brother and grumbled, “You gotta mouth bigger than any I ever seen, Tom.” He looked to Lark then, raising one eyebrow rather daringly. “And what are you snickerin’ at, baby? It coulda happened to anybody…even you.”
Lark drew a deep breath and tried to calm her mirthful laughing. She stood up from the rocker and walked a ways from the fire. The warmth of the flames, coupled with her exertive laughter, found her too warm. “Well,” she began, trying to stifle her laughter, “I just…I just don’t see how you fell into such a trap! I can’t see anybody being that naive…especially you.” Lark sighed as her laughter began to subside to a giggle. She wiped the moisture for her eyes and saw Katherine and Tom do the same.
“Is that so?” Slater asked.
Lark looked up to see him grinning at her. “Yes, Slater,” she giggled. “Not realizing you were drinking something other than punch? Truly?” She shook her head in disbelief at his apparent innocence. “Not to mention getting caught under the mistletoe. You’d think a man like you would’ve been aware of the danger of that.”
“Really?” Slater asked. “So you don’t think you’re green enough to stumble into that same mess?” he asked. His eyes narrowed, and his handsome, alluring smile broadened.
“Of course not,” Lark said, still smiling. “Why, the only reason little Johnny caught me under twice is because…”
Lark’s smile instantly faded, for Slater had raised an index finger, pointing toward the ceiling. The delightful humor of the story had distracted Lark. She hadn’t realized—not until that very moment—that she stood directly beneath the sprig of mistletoe hanging from the ceiling. She quickly glanced up, hoping the mistletoe had somehow vanished—knowing that hadn’t. Indeed, there it hung in all its traditional glory. In truth, she wanted nothing more in the world than to know Slater’s kiss once more. Yet with Tom and Katherine looking on, she was entirely unnerved. She looked back to Slater to find he was impishly grinning down at her.
Quickly, she looked to Katherine and Tom. “Oh…but surely…well, this just doesn’t count. It’s only for decoration, after all,” she said.
Tom chuckled, his eyes bright with amusement. Katherine giggled, biting her lip trying to restrain
her own.
Lark looked back to Slater and gasped as he leaned toward her. “No…no, no, no,” she whispered, already breathless.
“So you think it was pretty funny, huh?” he asked. “Me bein’ naive enough to get caught under the mistletoe?” Lark stepped back from him, but he took hold of her arm. “Oh no, ya don’t. Don’t you try to run away now, you coward. You’ve been caught, baby. And after all…it’s tradition. You wouldn’t want to be one to break with tradition, now would you?”
“You wouldn’t,” she whispered. “Not in front of…”
“Oh, I would,” Slater interrupted.
Still, she doubted him. Would he really kiss her in front of Tom and Katherine—especially Katherine? Their impassioned moments over a month before had been shared in secret. Lark couldn’t believe Slater Evans would really kiss her when other people were nearby to witness it.
“Oh, come on, darlin’,” Tom chuckled. “It won’t hurt none.”
“You know he’s right. You know it won’t hurt,” Slater said, mischief and understanding smoldering in his dark eyes.
He was taunting her—teasing her. She was convinced he wouldn’t kiss her with Katherine looking on; he wouldn’t kiss her as he’d kissed her before anyway. Straightening her posture, Lark allowed an expression of defiance to own her face. She’d test him—see if he were only teasing her for the sake of amusement. Ceremoniously, she turned one cheek upward toward Slater, for she knew he would not kiss her in any manner other than what Johnny had in the least of it.
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