“If you haven’t found it by now, you won’t. You might as well accept it.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because it means I’ll have to leave you.”
“You could take us with you.”
Joe turned sharply. “No.”
“I wouldn’t mind.”
“I would. I couldn’t have you following me all over the country, wondering if the law was going to catch up with me one day or the next.”
“It would be better than never seeing you again. I love you, Joe Ryan. I never thought it would be possible to love anybody like I love you.”
Joe fell down beside the bed, took Mary in his arms, and kissed her. “I love you. Too much to turn you into a vagabond.”
“I won’t mind.”
“I know you’d try. You might even succeed, but you’d never like it. You long for stability, permanence, a feeling things will be the same tomorrow and the day after. It wouldn’t be fair to Sarah and Holly, or any children we might have. I’ve been wandering since I was sixteen. It was hard for me even then.”
“Then you’ve got to keep coming back until you do find the gold. Sarah and I will help look. You can’t give up.”
“Where is Sarah?” Joe asked.
“I don’t know. I thought she was with you.”
“I haven’t seen her all afternoon. When did she leave?”
“While I was taking a nap.”
“That was more than six hours ago.”
“Did she take the pinto?”
Joe looked out the window. “He’s not in the corral. I can’t believe I didn’t hear her leave.”
“You were concentrating on finding the gold.”
“I was wasting my time,” Joe said. He turned to the stove. “If she isn’t back by the time supper’s ready, I’ll go look for her. It’s getting cold. Wouldn’t be surprised if it freezes tonight.”
Sarah returned before supper, but all she would say in response to where she’d been was, “I was looking for some branches to make a Christmas wreath.”
“You have no business being gone by yourself so long,” Joe said. “You nearly scared your mother out of a year’s growth.”
“Did I scare you out of a year’s growth, too?”
Joe decided that things turning over inside him was going to be a regular occurrence as long as he was around Mary and Sarah. “You scared me out of two years. Look here,” he said, pointing to the hair at his temples. “I’ll bet you can see gray hairs.”
Sarah looked. “No.”
“Well, you will if you do anything like that again.”
“I won’t.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
They spent the rest of the evening decorating. Joe cut the crepe paper into thin strips and ringed the tree with them. Sarah made big bows out of the ribbon. Joe helped her tack those up on the windows. Then they made a wreath, wired several pinecones in it, tied a huge bow to the bottom, and attached it to the front door. Mary cut out scenes in colored paper, and they pasted them on the windows. By the time they finished, there was hardly a part of the cabin that didn’t have some sign of Christmas.
“There’s nothing left to do but put a lantern in the window, go to bed, and wait for Christmas morning,” Joe said, rubbing his hands together.
“Are you sure Père Noël will find us?” Sarah asked anxiously.
“Sure,” Joe said. “With that wreath on the door and the lantern in the window, he can’t miss.” Joe looked at Mary. She was putting an extra blanket over Holly. The baby slept soundly in the cradle.
“I guess it’s about time I said good night,” he said.
Mary straightened up. “I don’t want you to go.”
“Mary, I already told you I can’t—”
“I mean tonight. I don’t want you to go tonight.”
“But I can’t sleep here. Brother Samuel would be horrified.”
“The Devil take Brother Samuel.”
“We can only hope,” Joe murmured.
“If this is to be your last night, I want you to spend it with us.”
Joe stood still. He’d been thrown out of many places in his life. People had turned their backs on him, but he’d never been invited in. He ought to go. If they came for him in the night, he’d be trapped here. Worse still, Mary’s reputation would be ruined.
But he wanted to stay. More than anything in his whole life, he wanted to stay in this room with these people. If tonight was all he was to be granted, then he would take it.
“I’ll put my bedroll by the door. That way—”
“I want you to sleep here,” Mary said, patting the bed, “with Sarah and me.”
“But you’ve just had… Sarah won’t… Sister Rachel would fall down in a dead faint if she knew.”
“I’m not asking for anything more than to be near you.”
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.”
“Okay, but I’ll sleep on top of the covers.”
Joe was prey to so many conflicting emotions, he hardly knew what he felt. He had never slept with a woman without touching her. He vowed he’d cut off his right hand before he touched Mary. She’d just had a baby, for God’s sake. Besides, he was leaving tomorrow. He couldn’t make love to her, then walk out of her life. Maybe other men could, but he couldn’t.
And he knew he wouldn’t be back. He would never find the gold. He accepted that now. Without the gold, he could never ask Mary to be his wife. He couldn’t accept that. Something inside wouldn’t let him give up. Maybe he could look again in the morning. Maybe he could come back in a few months.
Maybe.
But all he had—all he might ever have—was this night. He moved closer to Mary, reached out, and took her hand in his. He felt as if he was fighting for his share of her attention. Holly wouldn’t settle down. Finally he released Mary’s hand, put his arm around her, and pulled her to him. Holly settled between her breasts and went to sleep. Sarah reached up to take hold of the hand Joe had around Mary’s shoulder. In moments she was asleep as well.
“This wasn’t what I had in mind,” Mary whispered as she clasped Joe’s free hand.
“Me either,” Joe whispered back. He kissed her hair. “But I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.”
It was far more than he had expected. So much less than he wanted. He told himself to concentrate on the moment. It was warm and wonderful. It just might be enough to last him for a lifetime.
Mary woke when Holly began to stir. She fed the baby before her cries woke Joe or Sarah. Even in sleep, Sarah held tightly to Joe’s hand. Mary wanted to do the same thing for the rest of her life. Joe had gone to sleep with his head on her shoulder. She felt almost crushed by the love that surrounded her. And it all came from Joe.
* * *
Joe woke at dawn. The cabin was cold. Taking care not to wake Mary, Sarah, or the baby, he eased out of bed. Still in his stockinged feet, he opened the stove and began to lay a fire. “Shut up, Samson,” he said when the dog started to whine. “I’ll let you out shortly.”
In a few minutes he had water on for coffee. He looked outside. The ground was covered with a light dusting of snow. It was closer to a white Christmas than he had ever had growing up. He shoved his feet into his boots, grabbed the milk bucket, and eased the door open on silent hinges he’d oiled two days ago.
The frozen ground crunched under his feet. “Queen Charlotte’s just going to love getting milked this morning,” he said to Samson, who frisked about, his breath making clouds in the frigid air.
The cow did mind being milked, but Joe milked her under the shed out of the wind. She showed her appreciation by kicking only once. Joe set the milk on the porch. “Let the cream rise to the top and freeze. Used to do that back in Car
olina,” he told Samson. “Sweetest cream you ever did taste.” He fed and watered General Burnside, then got his presents from the shed.
Mary was at the stove slicing bacon when he entered the cabin, loaded with presents. She stopped, her knife suspended in midair. “What have you got there?” she asked.
“Just a few things I thought you and Sarah might like.”
Mary put her knife down, went to the trunk, and opened it. She took out a handmade doll and a pair of white shoes. “I couldn’t afford to buy anything but the shoes. I was going to make her a dress.”
“It doesn’t matter. I got her some.”
Mary watched as Joe stuffed each of Sarah’s shoes as full as he could get with powder, a mirror, candy, ribbons, and all the things the girl in Jones Emporium assured him a little girl would want. “So that’s why you risked going to town.”
“No, it isn’t. I—”
Mary put her hands on his shoulders, stood on tiptoe, and kissed him hard on the lips, her knife dangerously close to his jugular.
“Don’t tell lies, not even little ones. It’s Christmas.”
The word worked its magic, and Sarah and Holly woke up at the same time.
Sarah’s gaze went straight to the tree. She rubbed her eyes, looked, and rubbed them again. “Père Noël really did come,” Sarah said, staring at her shoes.
“I told you he wouldn’t miss the light in the window,” Joe said. “Now, you can’t open anything until after breakfast. I’ll take that while you feed the baby,” Joe said, removing the knife from Mary’s hand. “Sarah, you can set the table.”
Joe tried not to think that this was the last time he would sit down to eat with Mary and her family. He tried to tell himself this was the high point of his stay. He would concentrate on enjoying it. He would have more than enough time to think about what he would be missing.
Joe gave Mary the rattle, dress, and blanket for Holly. Sarah emptied her shoes, exclaiming over everything she found. But when she opened the package Joe handed her with the three dresses inside, she shrieked so loudly that he thought she didn’t like them. She bounded up, threw herself across the room, and hugged him until he thought he couldn’t breathe.
“Every pretty little girl ought to have a dress,” Joe said. “I just bought you a couple of spares. Here, put this one on,” he said, handing her the party dress. “And don’t forget to powder yourself real good,” Joe said as Sarah retreated behind the curtain. “I like my little girls to smell good.”
“You shouldn’t have spent all your money on us,” Mary said, her eyes filling with tears.
“I bought myself a coat. I’ve got plenty left.”
“You’re telling lies again.”
“Enough, then.” He reached back into the welter of brown paper and handed Mary the box of scented soaps. While she was thanking him for that, he handed her the books of drawing paper, the pens, and ink. Before she had recovered completely, he handed her the set of colored paints.
She just sat there, her hand over her mouth, tears pouring down her cheeks.
“Next Christmas, I want every one of those drawings to be in color,” he said, a huskiness in his voice. He cleared his throat. “Christmas should never lack color, even in Arizona.”
“Oh, Joe,” Mary said, and threw her arms around him.
Joe found himself hugging Mary and Holly at the same time. Holly objected. Loudly.
“Be quiet, child.”
“No, she’s right,” Joe said, pulling back. “No point pretending. We’ve got to face up to it. This is the last we’ll see of each other for a time.”
“Joe,” Sarah said.
But Joe didn’t answer her. Mary was clinging to him, and he couldn’t summon the willpower to let her go. He buried his face in her hair, willing himself to remember this moment forever.
“Why won’t you let us go with you? It won’t be a hardship, not like it will be living here without you.”
“Mary, I already explained why I can’t do that.”
“Joe,” Sarah called.
“Just a minute,” Joe said to her. He wanted to memorize the feel of Mary in his arms, the smell of her. “I’ll come back, I promise. Maybe by then you can remember something that will help, but I can’t take you with me while this stolen gold is hanging over my head.”
“Joe!”
“What is it?” Joe said, finally turning to Sarah. “Can’t you see—” Joe froze. Sarah was dressed in her party dress, a ribbon in her hair, the white shoes on her feet. She was beautiful. She looked like a little angel.
But that wasn’t what mesmerized him. She was holding her hands up toward him. In them was a bag of the missing gold.
“Can you stay now? Can you be my papa?”
Seven
Mary saw them long before they turned into the yard—Brother Samuel and Sister Rachel, accompanied by Sheriff Howells. She wrapped the baby in Joe’s blanket, put her in her cradle, and put on water for coffee. She threw a heavy woolen shawl, the last of Joe’s presents, over her shoulders and met them at the door.
“You poor woman,” Sister Rachel exclaimed as soon as she stepped inside. “We came the moment the sheriff told us.” She threw her arms around Mary and embraced her.
“To think you’ve been alone with him all this time,” Brother Samuel said.
“Saints preserve us!” Sister Rachel exclaimed, patting Mary’s flat stomach. “What happened to the baby?”
“She’s asleep in her crib,” Mary said. “Apparently I miscalculated when she was due.”
“But how…who…when?”
“Two days ago. Joe and Sarah helped me.”
“You let that strange man, that criminal, help you!” Brother Samuel exclaimed.
“I didn’t have much choice. He found me in the shed unable to get up.”
“Poor woman. And all the time you didn’t know what he was.”
“I know exactly what he is,” Mary said, proud, calm, and happy. “He’s the man I’m going to marry.”
Sister Rachel and Brother Samuel practically threw Mary down in a chair. “Having the child so unexpectedly must have brought on brain fever,” Sister Rachel said.
“He’s an escaped convict, Mrs. Wilson,” Sheriff Howells added.
“Suppose he didn’t steal that gold?” Mary asked. “Would you have to take him back?”
“Well, I don’t know. He did break jail.”
“But he broke out so he could find the gold and prove he didn’t steal it. Wouldn’t that be reason enough not to send him back?”
“If he can come up with the gold, the transport company would drop the charges. They’d probably give him a reward, too.”
“That’s a perfectly absurd question,” Brother Samuel said. “Of course he has to go back to jail.”
“I never trusted him, not from the first,” Sister Rachel said.
But Mary wasn’t to be sidetracked by Brother Samuel or Sister Rachel.
“So if he can return the gold and prove he didn’t steal it, do you promise not to send him back to Colorado?”
“Yes, ma’am, but I can’t promise Colorado won’t still charge him with breaking jail.”
“But why should he be punished for that when he shouldn’t have been in jail in the first place?”
“You got a point there, ma’am. I think we could work things out. Of course, he might have to go up there a while later to talk to some people, but I don’t imagine they’d hold anything against him. If he can prove he didn’t steal that gold, that is.”
Mary got to her feet. “How about coffee? I’ve made a new pot.”
* * *
Joe had expected to see Brother Samuel’s buggy in front of the cabin, and he wasn’t surprised to see the sheriff’s horse as well. He balanced the strongbox across the saddle in front of him. His and Mary’s g
old was safely stowed in the bottom of his saddlebags.
“How did you know where to find the gold?” he asked Sarah, who rode beside him.
“Papa showed me the cave once. He threatened to put me in it if I was bad.”
“Why didn’t you tell me last night?”
“I wanted to surprise you.”
“You sure did that.”
“Are you going to be my papa now?”
“It depends on what the man riding that horse says.” Joe pulled up in front of the house. The sheriff and Brother Samuel came out to meet him.
“You want to give me a hand with this box?” Joe asked.
“That the stolen shipment?” the sheriff asked as he came down the steps.
“Yes.”
“Where did you find it?”
“I didn’t. Sarah did.”
“Papa hid it in a cave,” Sarah said.
“How did you know?” The sheriff took the box from Joe. Joe dismounted and helped Sarah down.
“Last night Mama said Joe would have to go away if he couldn’t find the gold. She told me to try to think of everything Papa did when he was home that time.
“That’s when I remembered him sneaking out of the house.”
Mary came down the steps. “You called me Mama.”
Sarah threw her arms around Mary’s neck. “Joe said you’d like it.”
“I do,” Mary said, hugging the little girl tight to her chest. “I like it very much.”
“Pete set me up,” Joe explained to Sheriff Howells. “But he was killed before he could come back and get the gold. It’s all there. See for yourself.”
Mary came to stand by Joe, one arm around him, the other resting on Sarah’s shoulders. “The sheriff says you won’t have to go back to Colorado. He said you can stay here.”
“You sure about that?” Joe asked him.
“I don’t see why not. They’ve got their money back. The way I see it, they owe you something for being locked up all that time.”
“You think I can get that conviction taken off my record? I don’t want my kids’ pa to have a record.”
“Ought to be able to do that, too.”
Joe turned to Brother Samuel. “I want you to marry us.”
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