Wild West Christmas: A Family for the RancherDance with a CowboyChristmas in Smoke River

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Wild West Christmas: A Family for the RancherDance with a CowboyChristmas in Smoke River Page 13

by Jenna Kernan


  “Garrett Sheridan came by today,” Kathleen said.

  Molly roused and peered over her spectacles.

  “He wants to see Lily.”

  “I’m sure his family will want to help you in any way that they can.”

  “That’s what worries me. In the past whenever I’ve accepted help, it has come with unspoken expectations. It’s better if I manage on my own.”

  Molly picked up her knitting needles. “Garrett’s a good man. Salt of the earth. He’s done a lot of improvements to the ranch. Kept it going after Josh passed.”

  “Next thing you’ll be saying is that I should be happy that he is Lily’s uncle.” On hearing the sarcastic tone in her words, she sighed. “I’m sorry. I know you are friends with the Sheridans.”

  “You could have ended up with a lesser man with that title. That’s for sure. So why is it bothering you?”

  “It’s not... It isn’t.”

  Molly raised her brows. “Could have fooled me. You wouldn’t be thinking on him so hard if everything was fine and dandy.”

  You’re family now.

  The words echoed through Kathleen’s mind. What, exactly, did that mean? Josh had insisted on telling his parents about the pregnancy by himself. Afterward he’d stopped by and nearly put his fist through the door in utter frustration when he knocked. The Sheridans hadn’t taken the news well. During the wedding she’d felt the disapproval beneath their polite words. It was in their worried glances, the flash of a tight smile. It was the same with her father and mother. Josh hadn’t measured up. She hadn’t measured up. Her wedding day should have been a day to remember, but instead it was a day ripe with regrets on all sides. All sides but one. Garrett hadn’t even been there.

  “Did I ever tell you who gave me my first kiss?”

  Molly’s look of puzzlement confirmed she hadn’t.

  “Garrett Sheridan.”

  “Well, now,” Molly murmured, adjusting her spectacles. “How did that come about?”

  “It was a silly game of truth or dare in Satterly’s barn. Lucy Mae and the Bartlett twins dared me to kiss one of the boys. There wasn’t much to choose from—Billy Jenkins, Patrick Onnus and Russell Lakes. Garrett was whistling outside. He’d come to fix the door latch and didn’t know we were inside.”

  “And...?” Molly prodded.

  “I was sixteen—and a bit impulsive. I walked past the others and out to Garrett, told him I hoped he didn’t mind, and then stood on my tiptoes and kissed him.”

  Molly chuckled. “On a dare, then! Doesn’t that beat all.”

  “Yes,” Kathleen murmured, holding in the rest of the memory. Garrett had surprised her. He’d kissed her back. What she had thought would be a gentle peck had been, oh, so much more. Magical. Even now the memory could make her blush when she dwelled on it.

  Afterward she’d been in the clouds with a moon-size infatuation. She’d maneuvered a time or two to talk to him, but he’d never taken the hint or asked her out. And knowing how her father felt about the Sheridans, she never invited him to the house. It was Josh who’d made her realize the kiss hadn’t meant the same to Garrett. Josh had teased her and said Garrett thought that she was just a silly young girl. At the time his words had hurt. Funny how a year later, Josh had courted her so earnestly that she’d succumbed to his charms. All because of those sonnets...

  She pressed her lips together, pushing the memory back to the past where it belonged. “The Sheridans... It was awkward after we married. They were distant. I’d hoped...” She’d hoped they would accept her but it hadn’t happened. She sighed. “If that’s ‘family’, then I want nothing from them.”

  Molly leaned forward in her chair. “That doesn’t sound like Barbara and Brent.”

  “They didn’t even acknowledge Lily’s birth. As far as Lily and I are concerned, we owe them nothing.”

  “Well, child, I just don’t understand. The Sheridans are founding members of the church here. It doesn’t seem possible that they’d treat you like that.”

  “Maybe that’s why. I ruined their perfect son, their perfect world. Josh wouldn’t have taken that job at the mine if it hadn’t been for me and a baby on the way.” She set down her needle and woolen yarn. “Lily’s all I have. I may have to live with my parents’ disapproval—and with the Sheridans’, too, for that matter, but I don’t want that for her. I left home to get away from that.”

  “Well, you’re going to run into them from time to time. You can’t live in a small town and avoid bumping into people.”

  “I don’t want Lily seeing them if I’m not present.”

  Concern lit Molly’s features, but then she settled back into her chair and began knitting, her needles clicking. After a moment she spoke. “Very well. You have to follow your conscience.”

  “I’ll manage on my own.” She had Molly to help her—and her job at the bakery. She didn’t want things to be this way, but Lily’s happiness was too important. She would protect her daughter at all costs. And Garrett Sheridan would just have to accept that.

  Chapter Three

  Garrett readjusted the gelding’s hoof and squeezed it securely between his knees. Grabbing a nail from his back pocket, he positioned it on the iron shoe and hammered it into place. He repeated the process five more times and then dropped the horse’s leg. “There. See how that feels.”

  He straightened and stretched his back.

  “Digger throw a shoe?” his father asked as he entered the stable and hooked a rope over the last stall’s post head. Brent Sheridan was solid, trim and serious—a man other men in the area respected and most of the women admired.

  Garrett nodded in answer to his question.

  “Did you check the others?”

  “They’re fine.”

  “You were late getting home last night.”

  “Paul has a new buyer out toward Banner. We could use an additional three steer next trip.”

  His father grunted. “That’s good news.”

  Garrett grabbed a rag from the corner and sat on the old trunk. He hiked his saddle over his knee and applied a generous smearing of saddle soap to the tired leather, then concentrated on rubbing it in, paying attention to a particularly worn area in the seat. When he realized his father was observing his every move, he relaxed his hold on the saddle. “She’s back.”

  “And the baby?”

  “Lily’s five now.”

  Brent Sheridan nodded slowly. “Did you see her?”

  “From a distance. Dark hair. Dark eyes.”

  Pain flashed crossed his father’s face. “Like Josh. A granddaughter, fancy that. Been raising boys for so long I’m not sure what I’ll do with a little girl around the place.”

  He’d best let his pa know what had happened. He couldn’t quite put his finger on what was going on with Kathleen, but something was off. She was different, guarded now. “Kathleen’s changed some.”

  “Well...losing a husband, having a baby...those things take their toll.”

  “She’s not all fired up to let Lily meet us.”

  His father pulled off his leather gloves. “Think it has anything to do with Sadie?”

  Garrett shook his head. “Can’t tell.” Sadie had left town after Josh’s death. She’d insisted that nothing had happened between them. It hadn’t mattered what she said. People knew where Josh had spent his last night, and it wasn’t with his wife.

  Pa sighed. “Josh sure made a mess of things at the end.”

  “Kathleen’s been through enough. I don’t want her to find out.”

  “Same here, son, but we can’t muzzle the entire town.”

  “I can try.”

  “The way Kathleen’s acting... Could be she just needs to feel a bit more welcome.”

  “I hope it’s that si
mple. Right now she doesn’t even want us near Lily.”

  “That’s not gonna sit well with your ma. However, I guess we can hold off a few more days.”

  Ma would bust at the seams if she had to wait. She’d already refigured her annual trip to San Diego in order to buy a few girl-suitable Christmas presents.

  When Pa left, Garrett applied more saddle soap to the leather. His thoughts drifted back to Kathleen, remembering the one time she’d sat in this saddle. It had been new then. He was nineteen and mending the fence along the west edge of the property when he’d heard chatter down by Gully’s Creek. Hot and sweaty and in need of a break, he’d chucked his gloves and wandered over for a look.

  He’d found Kathleen with two of her friends under the old oak, barefoot and wading in the shallow water, their pinafores hiked up to their thighs. They’d been all of fourteen and in that silly giggling stage going on about whatever girls of that age talk about. When they’d caught sight of him they’d shrieked. Kathleen had stepped forward, slipped on a submerged rock and twisted her ankle. She’d sat down hard, getting her clothes soaked up to her waist. Her face had reddened to the color of a jalapeño. He figured it was from embarrassment, but she didn’t act embarrassed when he’d come closer and scooped her up. It was only as he’d deposited her on the bank that he’d realized she was actually spitting angry. For some reason that had made him chuckle. Which had made her punch him. He’d caught her fist and told her to quit acting like a child.

  The other girls had buzzed around as he’d checked the damage to her ankle. It hadn’t been broken as far as he could tell. There was no swelling. But he’d figured she shouldn’t put any weight on it. He had told her as much, picked her up again and sat her on his horse. He’d been about to climb up behind her when he’d noticed how her soaking cotton dress clung to her—everywhere. Where she’d once been as straight as a pine, suddenly curves were making themselves known. He’d averted his eyes, grabbed the reins and walked his horse to town without looking back. Her two friends had chattered on, oblivious to the fact that Kathleen was in a lot of pain. Any other time he would have blocked out their noise, but that day he was grateful for it. It had helped keep his mind off what he shouldn’t have been thinking on—Kathleen’s soft, smooth calf and the fact he’d run his rough, steer-herding fingers all over that slippery skin.

  That was the day he had started waiting for her to grow up. Three years he’d waited, and it had only taken one impulsive act to lose her to his brother.

  * * *

  Kathleen dried the last baking pan with a swift wipe of a towel and set the pan above the large stove. “We’ve run out of honey and cinnamon.”

  “I’m not surprised with all the extra baking I’m doing,” Sue said. “You’ll need to stop by Gilliam’s and order more. Actually, if you head over now you’ll catch Eileen before she closes. Make sure her brother delivers it first thing tomorrow.”

  “Then I’ll see you in the morning.” Kathleen donned her dark blue cloak. Usually the days remained warm enough for a heavy shawl, but as the end of the year approached, the evenings had taken on a stiffer chill.

  More than once Sue had mentioned that Kathleen’s arrival had come at the most opportune moment for the both of them. Sue’s daughter, who usually helped in the bakery, had married and moved to Yuma only one month before. Sue had been lonely without her daughter and tied down without any relief at the bakery. Kathleen’s appearance had remedied both problems.

  On her way to Gilliam’s, she circumvented the stagecoach as it turned into the livery. No passengers today, but she’d seen the driver hand off a packet of mail to Eileen’s father. The dry-goods store housed the U.S. post office in town. It was nothing compared to the grand post office in San Diego. There, stone columns made for an impressive facade, while inside four clerks waited to serve the customers. Knowing that, she’d still take Clear Springs any day over the city. People knew her here and she knew many of them. Here, everything was familiar.

  She found Eileen in the back, removing the brown paper wrapping from three new bolts of fabric. Eileen was a petite brunette with a round face and china-doll features. She unearthed the necessary supplies and set them on the counter. “I’ll tack this onto Sue’s bill and see it gets over to the bakery in the morning.”

  “Thanks.” Kathleen turned toward the door.

  “What’s all goin’ on over at Molly’s?”

  Kathleen stopped. “Nothing I know of. Why do you ask?”

  “Just wondered what Garrett Sheridan is up to. He’s not one to come to town. Especially since—” She stopped abruptly and a bit of red crept up her neck at her collar. “Sorry. I shouldn’t be so nosy.”

  Garrett was at Molly’s? Had something happened? Concern for Lily surfaced immediately. “Thank you, Eileen.” Kathleen dashed through the door and flew down the road, around the corner and up the short hill to the boardinghouse. She burst into the parlor, short of breath and flushed despite the cold air against her cheeks.

  “Lily? Lily!”

  “In here!” Molly called from the kitchen.

  Kathleen rushed toward the back of the house and found Lily kneeling on a chair at the table, mashing a bowl full of boiled potatoes. She checked down the hall, and then out the back window. “Where’s Garrett?”

  Molly glanced up from the baked chicken she’d just removed from the oven and waved a dish towel. “Left hours ago. Sure was a surprise to see him.”

  “What was he doing here?”

  Molly shrugged. “Just started in on the front steps—replacing that rotten board that’s been sagging more of late.” She turned back to her task at the carving board. “He was here for the better part of the afternoon. Never came inside. Took the coffee I offered then was gone before I chanced to look out again.”

  “Is he coming back?”

  “Oh, he finished that job. I doubt we will see him here again.”

  Molly’s words didn’t reassure her. Kathleen had asked him to wait. Was this his less-than-subtle way of prodding her? It had only been five days.

  Lily emitted a melodramatic sigh. “Am I done yet?”

  Kathleen eyed the lumpy mashed potatoes in the bowl. “They look perfect.” She wiped her daughter’s hands with a towel and determined to put Garrett Sheridan from her mind for the evening. Not an easy task, since he’d been popping into her thoughts frequently since their conversation.

  * * *

  Garrett held on to the fence post while Eduardo used his foot to tamp down the dirt at its base. It had been a week since he’d been in to town, yet Kathleen had occupied every corner of his mind since then. Hard manual labor seemed to be the only relief—and it offered very little at that.

  The flash of red leather caught his attention.

  “New boots?”

  Eduardo grinned. “The ladies like them.”

  “I bet that’s what they notice.” His ranch hand was a smooth talker. Eduardo and Josh had been cut of the same easygoing attitude when it came to women. Josh could spin a tale or tell a joke easier than he could set a post or break a colt. For Garrett, things were just the opposite. Maybe he should take some pointers from him. It might set his practical nature on edge, but hadn’t Kathleen already done that just by coming back? Kathleen again. The woman unsettled him. Seemed she was never far from his thoughts. He just wanted there to be some peace between them, and maybe a little trust. All right...he wanted a lot of trust.

  Trust starts with being truthful.

  He shut out the thought. No point in dragging up painful memories. If she didn’t know certain things, he wasn’t going to be the one to tell her. She seemed to be putting the past behind her. Coming here, taking a job—she was moving on.

  Could he?

  He gripped the small roll of barbed wire and stretched it from the old post to the new replacement they’d j
ust planted. Looping it twice, he used his pliers to twist it against itself and lock it in place. He tested the tension, feeling the same tautness inside himself. Kathleen had had more than a week to ride out to the ranch, and she hadn’t come or sent a word.

  “This will hold back a stampede,” Eduardo said. “East forty next?”

  “I’m heading into town.” Garrett all but growled the words. If she wouldn’t come out, the least he could do was make sure she was comfortable at Molly’s. He hadn’t thought much beyond that other than he hoped he’d get a glimpse of her even if it meant she’d scold him when he did. Seeing her still did crazy things to him inside.

  * * *

  In town, he stopped at Harley’s Hardware and Tack to pick up a few supplies and then made another stop at the sawmill to have a few planks of lumber delivered. When he and Eduardo reached Molly’s, they ground tied their mounts behind the cabin and Eduardo followed Garrett into the shed. An hour later, they were both atop the outhouse, battling with the stubborn branches of a pine and the rank odor that rose through the hole they were repairing.

  “Señora Birdwell asked you to fix this?” Eduardo asked after prying up the last of the rotten boards.

  “Molly? Ask for help?” Garrett shook his head. “That will never happen. Ma mentioned there was a steady drip last time she was here for quilting. I’ll hand the new wood up to you.” He had already descended the ladder and grabbed the first board when he caught sight of Lily.

  He’d have known her anywhere. Her eyes and her coloring were his brother’s. So much so that it caused an ache in his chest. She had long chestnut hair, pulled back into two braids and tied with ribbons, and held a rag doll that looked to have been her constant companion for years. He hesitated, gripping the board between them like a shield. When she continued to stand there, watching him with her wide brown eyes, he nodded. “How do, Miss Lily.”

 

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