He closed the door and returned to the stable. Tolly did not look up. “Well?”
“I got a kid coming any day,” Rico began.
“Pay is fifty bucks a month plus the cottage. I hold back half the money toward payment on the business, should that day come. That’s the deal—take it or leave it.”
“You had any other interest?” Rico asked, knowing the sign had been there long enough for the ink to have run and the paper to turn yellow.
“That ain’t none of your damn business, Mendez. If you want the deal, say yes and be back here the day after Christmas at sunup. You don’t want it or you have to think it through, stop wasting my time.”
“Fifty dollars, the cottage, and I keep working branding and calving seasons for the Porterfields. That, plus you hold back a quarter of the pay, not half. I expect you’re stubborn enough to live for some years yet, and you wouldn’t want me paying you off before you’re ready.”
Tolly actually chuckled. “You’ll do,” he said as he wiped his hand on the apron and stuck it out for Rico to shake.
“Merry Christmas,” Rico said as he headed out the door.
Tolly grumbled a reply Rico didn’t catch, because he was already mounted up and riding hard for the ranch to tell Chet Hunter his plans.
* * *
Addie Wilcox arrived just after noon. As usual she stopped first to check on Louisa, and Louisa did not like the slight frown that marred her friend’s otherwise placid face.
“I am going to that service tomorrow night, Addie.”
“Never said you weren’t,” Addie replied as she put away her stethoscope and then wiped the lenses of her glasses on her skirt. “But I am going to be right there with you and we’d best sit toward the back, unless you’ve got an idea of performing some kind of live nativity pageant.”
“You think the baby will come before the New Year?”
“I think that’s within the realm of possibility. However—and this is a huge however—everything I know tells me you are not yet ready to deliver. My father agrees, which is why we’re letting you go to town. But once there, you will stay there until this child arrives. My folks have set up a room for you at our house.”
“I appreciate that,” Louisa said quietly as she stood in the doorway, watching Addie go. What she didn’t say was that no matter what anyone said, she was determined to attend Christmas Eve services. That might be her only chance to see her parents and sister during the holidays—or ever. She had not told Rico, but the truth was, with each passing day she lost a bit more hope she might ever reconcile with her family. On the other hand, surely once they saw Little Bit in the flesh…
From the yard she heard the muffled sound of a horse and ran to the door. “Rico!” she cried. She hadn’t expected him before the morrow, and here he was.
“What’s all this?” Rico stopped at the door as he entered the cottage and saw the decorations. “Lookin’ like Christmas, if you ask me.” He didn’t even bother to remove his hat or slicker before taking her in his arms and kissing her. “And I have got the perfect present for my best girl and Little Bit,” he said.
“Tell me you didn’t spend too much.” Louisa worried constantly about their finances. Rico didn’t make a lot of money, and Louisa hadn’t said anything yet, but one day she wanted a larger house. After all, there would be more children eventually and they would not all fit in the tight space they currently called home. She had been putting aside whatever she could of Rico’s pay. She hoped that by spring they might have enough to at least start making plans.
“Not a dime,” he said and kissed her forehead as he shrugged out of his coat and hung it on the hook near the door. “Looks nice,” he added, fingering the paper chains and other decorations. “Our first Christmas, muñeca, and it’s going to be one to remember.”
“Oh, Rico, I’m so excited about going into town. I’ve been so cooped up here. It feels like I’ve forgotten what it’s like to be out among people.”
“We’ll leave right after noon,” he promised.
* * *
On the morning of Christmas Eve, Louisa stood close to the small mirror as she fussed with her hair. “Do you think I look all right?”
“You are always beautiful, Louisa.” The way his eyes burned, she had no choice but to believe him, and she felt her cheeks flush with pleasure.
“Well, you need to change your shirt.” She held out the new one she had had Amanda help her buy for him. And because it was Amanda doing the choosing, it was unlike any shirt Rico had ever owned…a soft chambray cotton in a faded blue color with suede piping outlining the pockets and cuffs. “Merry Christmas, Rico,” she said shyly.
He took the shirt from her and studied it.
“Do you like it?” She was nervous that perhaps he would think it too fancy.
“I’ve never had anything so fine,” he said. “I mean, wait till Bunker and the others see me in this.” He grinned as he removed the shirt he was wearing, slid his arms through the sleeves of the new one and began fastening the bone buttons. “Fits like it was made just for me.”
“I thought it would be best if we exchanged presents before we leave for town,” she said.
“Now that’s not gonna work, when it comes to the present I have for you and Little Bit there. That present is in town, so I’m afraid the two of you will just have to wait, but I promise it will be worth every minute.”
And it was. When they reached town just before twilight on Christmas Eve, instead of tying up the wagon by the church or the Wilcox house, Rico pulled around to the back of the livery and stopped in front of a small two-story house. “Come on,” he said, his voice shaking with excitement.
“Who lives here?” Louisa was puzzled. They had reached the front door, and instead of knocking, Rico grasped the knob.
“We do—or we will.” When the door refused to budge, he used his shoulder to push it fully open. “It’s not much now, but a good cleaning and some paint and…” He lit a lantern, revealing a fully furnished parlor. He hesitated, seeing the place in all its tawdriness for the first time. What had he been thinking?
“Rico, we can’t afford this—we can’t live this far from the ranch and your work, even if we could.”
He held her hands as he told her about the meeting he’d had with the blacksmith and livery owner. “Then I talked to Chet and to Mrs. Porterfield, and they thought it was a fine idea. We’ll have a start on a solid future for us and our kids, Louisa.”
She walked slowly through the small house—the parlor and dining room already furnished, a kitchen twice the size of the one she had now, and on that first floor a bedroom complete with a four-poster and a wardrobe for their clothes.
“And two more bedrooms up here,” Rico told her as she slowly climbed the stairs, with him carrying the lantern to guide the way. “And most days, instead of being out on the range, I’ll be right across the yard there, within hollerin’ distance, should you need me.” He had stepped past her to the window at the landing and was pointing toward the livery.
“You did all of this for me—for us?”
“I love you, Louisa, and I needed to find a way I could provide for my family. We can build something together here—a better life for our children.”
Tears welled, tears of surprise and joy and relief that somehow this wonderful man she had married had found a way to secure the future for them—one her parents could not possibly condemn. “Oh, Rico, you have given us the miracle I prayed for. How can my family help but embrace you now?” She kissed him tenderly. “I love you so much,” she whispered. Then she grinned as she cupped his face in her hands. “Now let’s get to the church and wait there so I can tell my father what you’ve done for me—for us.”
She turned to start back down the shadowy stairs. She was looking back at Rico and laughing when she missed the first step and tumbled forward. The
last thing she heard before passing out was Rico’s cry of fear and his boots heavy on the stairs as he rushed to her side. The last thing she felt was a gush of liquid soaking her skirt and legs.
Five
Rico’s heart was in his throat as he stumbled down the stairs and knelt beside Louisa. “Querida, speak to me,” he whispered as he stroked her hair from her face. But she looked as if she were sleeping, so peaceful that he feared she was dead. “No!” he screamed as he gathered her to his chest.
She moved then, nestling closer to him. Knowing he had to get help, he laid her carefully back on the floor and covered her with his coat on top of the cloak she wore. That was when he noticed the water on the floor—a lot of water mixed with something else. He leapt to his feet and ran out the door, looking left and then right, trying to decide where to go, who to call. Tolly had left for the night to spend Christmas with his children and grandchildren. Addie Wilcox was driving back to town with the Porterfields. They had arranged to all meet at the church, but Doc Wilcox…surely he was at home. Desperate not to leave his wife, but seeing no one he might send to fetch the doctor, Rico started to run. He could see one wagon arriving early at the church, and he ran toward it.
“Help!” he shouted and three people, two women and a man, turned toward him. The women’s faces were covered by the hoods of their cloaks and the man was turned away from him, tying up the wagon. But Rico would know George Johnson anywhere.
“Mr. Johnson, it’s Louisa,” he called as he covered the distance between them. “She’s taken a fall and…we need Doc Wilcox now.”
“I’ll go,” he heard Louisa’s sister say as she jumped down from the wagon and took off running toward the doctor’s house at the far end of town.
Satisfied help would soon arrive and not really caring if his in-laws followed him, Rico ran back to the house. Louisa was lying where he’d left her, but now she was moaning and writhing with pain. As he entered the house he heard footsteps behind him, and looked around to see Louisa’s mother pulling off her gloves and adding her cloak to the ones already covering her daughter.
“We need to get her off this cold floor, Rico. George, get in here!” Her voice was a command meant to be obeyed without question.
“There’s a bedroom off the kitchen,” Rico said, but as he prepared to lift Louisa, his father-in-law took charge.
“Don’t you touch her. She could have broken her neck for all you know. We’ll wait for Doc.”
Rico knew his father-in-law had a point. He also knew the man already blamed him for Louisa’s fall.
Mrs. Johnson surveyed her surroundings. “Which way is that bedroom?” she asked, and Rico pointed toward the back of the house. “It’ll need some cleaning, I imagine,” she huffed as she hurried off. Minutes later he heard the squeal of the pump, followed by water running into a metal pan and Louisa’s mother muttering to herself. He realized she was praying.
Meanwhile Louisa seemed to drift in and out of consciousness. When Doc Wilcox arrived on the heels of Louisa’s sister, Rico saw he had not even stopped to put on his coat. In his shirtsleeves, he paused at the door. “George, get a fire going. This place is freezing. Helen, see if you can find some more lanterns and bring them to the bedroom.” Then he went to work, his calm voice doling out directions as he first examined Louisa and then instructed Rico and her father to help him carry her carefully to the bedroom. Louisa’s mother had found a fairly clean dustcover to place over the bed. She had wiped off the top of a small dressing table and pulled it closer. Helen brought a second lantern as well as Doc’s medical bag and set it there beside a pan of clean water. “We need rags,” Mrs. Johnson said. “Helen, go find Eliza McNew. She’ll have plenty of them in her store.”
The girl left the room at a run.
Rico was aware of other voices, and soon Addie, Rico’s parents, and the Porterfields all crowded around the doorway of the small bedroom. Rico stood on one side of the bed holding Louisa’s hand, while her father stood on the other.
“You and you, out,” Doc ordered, pointing to them in turn. “Addie, get over here. The rest of you go about your business.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Rico heard his mother declare.
“Nor am I,” Dorothy Johnson added. “This is my child and grandchild and I will not leave them.”
“Dorothy,” Mr. Johnson said softly as he tried to steer his wife to the door.
“No. This has gone on far too long, George.” And with that she brushed off his hand and moved to one side of her daughter’s bed.
As Mrs. Porterfield led Rico from the room, his father-in-law hesitated and then quietly followed. “I’ll see if there’s any tea in the kitchen,” Mrs. Porterfield said after they had reached the parlor and she’d urged Rico to sit so he could warm himself by the fire his father-in-law had built.
“I’ll help,” Amanda murmured.
Rico’s father stood uncertainly by the door and then stepped outside onto the porch. Through the window Rico saw him roll and light a cigarette. He stood on the edge of the porch fingering the turquoise cross he’d worn for as long as Rico could remember.
“What were you doing here?” George Johnson demanded after Helen had rushed past them bearing a stack of linens that she carried to the bedroom. He paced back and forth, his hands clasped behind his back.
The last thing Rico wanted right that minute was to hear a lecture from the rancher who had once respected him. “It’s where we’re gonna live from now on. I took Tolly Backus up on his offer to have me come in with him, and the house is part of the deal.” He glanced around, recalling the way Louisa’s eyes had sparkled as she took in the room and its furnishings. “It was—is—Louisa’s Christmas present.”
“So it was you insisting she get out of her sickbed to come out in this cold and take that rough ride into town.” It was not a question.
Rico had had all he could take. He stood and stepped in front of George Johnson to stop his pacing. “First of all, sir, Louisa is pregnant, not sick. Second of all, she pleaded with everyone at the ranch as well as Doc Wilcox to be allowed to be here tonight, because she knew you would be here. She has not once given up hope that you will accept me and our child. Doc gave her his blessing and here we are. I think you know Louisa well enough to know she’s that much like you—stubborn and determined to have her way.”
The older man stared at Rico for a long moment as if trying to recall something, and then to Rico’s surprise tears began to leak down the crevices of his father-in-law’s weathered face. “I don’t know what I’d do if we lost her,” he blubbered. “I’d never forgive myself.” He turned away, pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket, and blew his nose as he collapsed onto the settee, raising a puff of dust as he did.
Unsure of what to do as Louisa’s father’s tears turned to sobs, Rico sat next to him. “Louisa’s not going to die,” he said. “Doc won’t let that happen.”
“But if she loses this baby, it will kill her inside,” Johnson replied. He looked at Rico, his eyes wild with grief. “If she loses this baby, we may never get her back.”
Rico understood the man was not including him in that we but rather was admitting Louisa might never come home to him and his wife. “We’re not going to lose this baby, sir,” Rico said with a fierce certainty he did not really feel. His hand shook as he awkwardly patted George Johnson’s shoulder. “Can’t see God bringing anybody such heartache on Christmas Eve.” He walked to the window and silently prayed he was right.
They remained that way for what seemed like hours—not speaking and really not moving until finally they heard someone leave the bedroom and close the door with a click. Rico held his breath.
“Rico?” Mrs. Porterfield stood at the door to the parlor. “You have a beautiful daughter.”
And for the first time, Rico understood everything George Johnson had done or said in the past long months had be
en driven by one purpose—his love for his daughter and the belief he needed to protect her against the slings and arrows of this world. In that moment he understood the older man’s fears, but he could not condone the man’s animosity toward him when it had no basis in fact. He loved Louisa, had loved her for as long as he could remember. Surely that counted for more than a difference in the color of their skin. No doubt, they would face prejudice—they already had. But standing together, they would prevail, and perhaps by the time his children grew up, opinions would change. No, he understood the foundations of his father-in-law’s feelings, but he also knew the older man was wrong.
“Rico? Did you hear me?” Mrs. Porterfield came into the room and touched his forearm.
“Louisa?” he asked.
“Has had a rough time of it, but she’s resting now. Doc says she’s going to be just fine.”
“Can I see her…them?”
“Your mother and mother-in-law are making her more comfortable. Eliza sent over fresh linens for the bed and a nightgown. Give them a few minutes. Meanwhile Doc wants to talk to you.” She turned to George and added, “And you. Wait here.”
It was clear all the fire had gone out of Mr. Johnson. He remained seated, his hands dangling between his knees, his head bowed. “A girl,” he murmured finally.
“Yeah.” Rico headed for the door. “I’m going out to tell my father the news. Let me know when Doc is ready for us.”
“Rico?” The call was so faint that he thought he might have imagined it.
“Yes sir?”
“Congratulations, son.”
Christmas in a Cowboy's Arms Page 36