Cowboy Creek Christmas

by Cheryl St. John

  “Ahhhhhhhhhh!” she screamed as loud as August had, and in front of her Sam laughed. She dared look again. The bottom sped quickly up to meet them, and the sled spun at the same spot it had previously and dumped them unceremoniously into the snow. They rolled, and she ended up lying on her back facing the cloudless blue sky and panting as though she’d run a race. Laughter burst from her, and she rolled away.

  Sam’s laughter joined hers, and they sat on the frozen ground gasping for breath.

  “That was fun!” she managed finally. “I can’t believe I just did that.”

  “I can’t believe you’ve never been sledding. There’s always several feet of winter snow in Pennsylvania.”

  She pushed herself to her feet and brushed her coat and mittens clean. She reached down for Sam. “I can’t believe I haven’t, either.”

  He took her hand, and rose to stand in front of her, leaving her shockingly aware of how close he was. And how handsome. Her heart zigzagged in her chest, and she spent an inordinate amount of time studying him. Under well-shaped black brows his deep blue eyes held amusement and promise. His full nicely-shaped lips wore an unfamiliar mischievous smile. He had a straight nose, symmetrical bone structure, and he hadn’t shaved that morning, so a dark shadow highlighted his jaw and chin. She couldn’t remember ever taking such pleasure in looking at a person.

  “What are we doing?” she asked, truly perplexed about her exaggerated fascination.

  “I’m not sure,” he answered. “But I’m willing to spend as long as it takes to find out.”

  Chapter Ten

  She tore her gaze from his, his words echoing in her mind. She wanted to explore the growing feelings between them, but she felt so out of her depth. Attraction to another person was what perpetuated the human race...but she’d always assumed she was immune. She didn’t want to fall in love and behave irrationally. She was sensible and levelheaded.

  She hurried ahead, leaving him to pull the sled himself.

  At the crest, August beamed. “You were brave, Marlys!”

  She had been, hadn’t she? She’d faced every obstacle and challenge in her life head-on. She’d never backed down, never taken no for an answer. “I was, wasn’t I?” She pointed to the sled. “You and I this time, August.”

  If love always felt the way she’d felt with Sam lately, she was ready to face her fears and consider it. She turned and looked over her shoulder at Sam. “There’s a first time for everything, and I’m not going to be afraid anymore.”

  He met her gaze with a nod, and understanding passed between them.

  “Push us, Papa!”

  She and August both hollered all the way down.

  * * *

  A month had passed since Marlys had visited the Cheyenne, so she arranged a traveling party, packed supplies, and purchased jars of mincemeat and jelly to bring as gifts. Once again Sam and James accompanied her, and this time Sam allowed August to join them. The boy enjoyed the adventure, took in every detail, and learned as many Cheyenne words as he could in a day.

  They traveled home in the late afternoon before dark, and Sam invited Marlys to join them for dinner at the hotel. Though they were all weary, it was an enjoyable evening. August showed off his new skills and spoke Chinese to one of the women who carried their dishes away. The woman smiled in surprise and held a brief conversation with Marlys before returning to her duties.

  Sam was thankful Marlys had been able to make a strong connection with his son. August had visibly bloomed in her company and under her tutelage. He’d become more open with Sam, more content with their new home. Sam listened to the two of them speaking in Chinese and understood more than either were probably aware. His uncanny memory extended to remembering foreign words and phrases.

  “Are you able to wife my father?” August asked in Chinese.

  “Marry,” she corrected.

  “Are you able to marry my father?”

  “He has not asked me.”

  “What if he will?”

  “I might say yes.”

  “Would you be our mother?”

  “My mother,” she corrected.

  “Would you be my mother?”

  “Would you want me to be your mother?”

  “Yes.”

  They both looked at Sam. He gave them an innocent smile, but his heart swelled at the same time a tremor of trepidation passed up his spine. He’d proposed to her once before.

  She’d accepted.

  He’d counted his blessings.

  And then she’d called it off.

  This was different, he assured himself. She’d already attended university and earned her degree, so that was behind her. She’d come here to start over. But, then again, maybe there was more she wanted to do that didn’t include a husband or child.

  Nothing worthwhile ever came easily, his mother had told him often as a boy, and he’d taken her words to heart and lived by them. Making oneself vulnerable was one of the most difficult things he could imagine. And he’d imagined it plenty. He’d even had confusing dreams of asking her to marry him. He’d turned over every scenario in his mind. But unless he made the effort, he would never know if they had a chance for future happiness together.

  To be reasonable, he always asked himself what was the worst that could happen? In this situation the worst that could happen was that she’d say no, take offense and no longer want his friendship or want to spend time with August.

  That would be the worst result. However he would simply be back where he’d started before she’d walked into his newspaper office, and he’d lived through it once. He could survive, though he didn’t want August to lose his only friend.

  And so he hesitated, castigating himself for his cowardliness.

  And he prayed. Lord, show me Your perfect plan for us. Help me to be humble and honest. Help me protect my son and make the best possible life for him.

  They walked her home and wished her a good night.

  “Thank you again for accompanying me this morning,” she said.

  “August enjoyed every minute of the trip, so it was our pleasure.”

  “Well. Good night.”

  “Papa, you said we were going to ask Marlys about Christmas trees.”

  “Oh, yes.”

  “What about Christmas trees?” she asked.

  “Papa and I are going to cut a tree to decorate. You can come cut a tree, too. We can help you decorate it.”

  “It’s still almost two weeks until Christmas,” Sam told him. “It’s too soon this week, but if Marlys wants a tree, we can go next week.”

  “You have to have a tree,” August said with a serious expression.

  “I could put one in the waiting room here so my patients can enjoy it,” she said.

  August grinned. “See, we have a plan.”

  Sam nodded. “Good night, Marlys.”

  He avoided her for a week, seeing her only at church. On Wednesday she came by the Webster County Daily News to thank him for the second article on her. He stood to greet her. “I had two new patients yesterday,” she told him. “Both had read the article.”

  “It’s your story,” he said. “I just wrote about it.”

  “Well, thank you.” As though she sensed his withdrawal, she hesitated, standing beside him in front of his desk. “You’ve been busy yourself lately.”

  “Yes.” He glanced at the stacks of papers.

  * * *

  Marlys had never been good at interpreting social cues, but she sensed them now. Sam had been quiet the last couple of times she’d seen him. “I’ve never in my life thought about this or imagined I’d ever ask a person, but have I done something to offend you?”

  “No.” He met her gaze briefly and glanced away. “You haven’t.”

>   His reply and expression didn’t dispel her concern, but she didn’t know what else she could say. She was too socially inept to understand this friction. “All right.” Feeling completely inadequate, she turned toward the door. “I’ll be going then.”

  “Wait.”

  At his voice, she stopped and turned back to face him.

  He took the pencil from behind his ear and tossed it on the desk, then came to stand directly in front of her. “I have to admit to you I’ve been confused because of our history.”

  She looked up at him, his dark penetrating expression sending a shiver across her shoulders. “You mean our brief engagement.”

  “Yes.”

  She pursed her lips in thought. “I’ve pondered that, too. I’ve questioned my choices. I don’t believe I was at a place where I could recognize or appreciate anything beyond my single-minded focus.”

  “Which is what makes you the great doctor you are.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know.”

  “I do. You’re a good doctor. You’re focused and confident and open to new strategies and theories. You’ve made a difference already—I don’t think Little Deer would have survived without you. At that time you didn’t have time or energy for anything other than your studies. I admired your drive.”

  “But I embarrassed you.” She lifted her eyebrows in question. “Or hurt you?”

  “Perhaps my pride was wounded. And my heart.”

  “I’m sorry for that.”

  “It’s in the past. But it does make me hesitant to suggest anything more now.”

  “More?”

  “Yes. Are you satisfied with things the way they are or are you able to entertain the possibility of a future together?”

  She could appreciate Sam’s logical approach. Still, his question caught her off guard because she’d been questioning so many things herself. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. You’re different from others, because you don’t think my goals are selfish.”

  “Everyone should get to choose their own future.”

  “That sounds like a fine statement for a political leader. Maybe you should run for office.”

  He shook his head. “No. I have no interest in that arena. Journalism is how I choose to affect the world. And besides, Will Canfield is going to be the forerunner for governor.” He grimaced. “How did we get on that subject?”

  “What is the subject?”

  He put a hand on each hip and took a breath. “I’m not going to ask you to marry me today. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or pressure you, and I sure don’t want to get turned down. But I do want to get these feelings between us out in the open.”

  Her heart rate picked up. She became aware of her hands feeling cold. Recognizing all the physical signs didn’t make the unfamiliar panic any easier.

  “If you should feel that you might be willing to consider a proposal of marriage, will you tell me? And if you’re sure you wouldn’t consider it I want to know that, too.”

  His convoluted approach to what wasn’t truly a proposal made Marlys laugh. The sound erupted from her lips, and the more she thought about it, the more humorous it became. She pressed a palm to her midriff and let out her amusement.

  “Stop it,” he said.

  “Sam, it’s funny. You just proposed that I let you know if I’d consider a proposal.”

  “That’s not funny. It’s absurd and...well, humiliating.”

  She reached and took both of his hands in hers. His were large and warm, and she ran her thumbs over the soft hairs at his wrists. “I didn’t know if you would still have feelings for me or trust me.”

  “I do.”

  Summoning her courage, she admitted, “I do, as well. I may not have an answer for you just yet, but I can tell you without a wait that, yes, I will entertain a marriage proposal. From you. Right now.”

  He glanced over his shoulder. The office had been quiet, but now she wondered if Israel was nearby. Changing their grasp so he was holding on to her hands, Sam lowered himself to one knee. Her heart fluttered. “Marlys Boyd, will you consider marrying me?”

  Her throat felt thick with emotion. Nerves made her tremble. “I will have a reply by Christmas.”

  He got to his feet, enfolded her in a gentle embrace and kissed her. She didn’t feel suffocated or devalued. Sam didn’t want to limit her or hold her back. He gave her freedom to be herself, which made her want to be his all the more. She drew inches away to say, “I need to know if you would ever ask me to make a choice between being your wife and being a doctor.”

  “Marlys, I would never ask that of you. I admire your independent spirit and your individuality—and I appreciate all you do as a doctor. I am proposing marriage so that you and August and I can be family, so you and I can be partners.”

  “Don’t be aloof anymore.”

  “I apologize. Open and honest, that’s our policy.”

  “I like it.”

  He smiled that devastating smile that made her want to hug him, so she did. He slid his fingers into her hair and cupped her jaw. “We could be a family, the three of us.”

  “Will you tell August what we’re thinking?”

  “Not yet. I don’t want him to be disappointed if...if you chose another plan.”

  If she said no. “I don’t want him disappointed, either.” She frowned. “I have no idea how to be a mother. I can barely remember mine.”

  “He’s never had one, so he’ll have no comparison.”

  “I wouldn’t want to be ineffective.”

  Sam grinned. “I can’t imagine you being ineffective at anything, but no one can do everything well.”

  “Being a mother is pretty important.”

  “He would probably give you pointers as to what he expected. He did me.”

  “I appreciate that he knows what he wants.”

  “You already get along like two peas in a pod.”

  He ran his knuckles along her jaw and across her lips. His gentle loving touch showed her all she’d miss out on if they didn’t find a way to be together. The scripture verses about marriage had never made much sense to her. All she’d been shown and told in her past made it seem as though the woman had to set aside her life to be a wife. But if it could be different with Sam, then was that what she wanted after all?

  Her hand trembled when she raised it to his cheek, but she rested her palm there against the warmth of his skin. When he smiled at her, she felt the movement beneath her palm as well as the responsive tug at her heart. She didn’t want to be moved by emotion. She’d prayed for wisdom. Loving Sam would be easy. Doing the wise thing would be less simple and far more confusing.

  Did she love him?

  * * *

  In the week that followed they had dinner together at the hotel. Aunt Mae invited them to join her gathering at the boardinghouse for a Saturday morning breakfast, and they sat side by side in church the following day. On Tuesday, with Christmas three days away, they bundled up after school was out and selected two fine trees from a ridge near where they’d sledded. In the woods August pointed out plants with oval-shaped leaves and red berries growing in the branches of conifers. “What are these?”

  “Pick me a pocketful of those, August. They’re from the botanical genus phoradendron. The plant is related to sandalwood. The seeds are spread by birds and grow in host trees.”

  “That’s mistletoe, son, and its best use is for hanging in doorways at Christmastime. Pick me a fistful, too.”

  “Why would you hang it in a doorway?” August asked.

  “Because when a girl stands in the doorway under a sprig of mistletoe, a boy gets to kiss her.”

  August wrinkled his nose. “I’m not kissing any girls.”

  “Oh, me, neither,” Sam teased with
a wink at Marlys.

  They loaded the sled with their trees and pulled them home. Sam made a base for one that he placed in the open area at the Daily office and another for Marlys’s waiting room. Neither of them owned any decorations, and rather than buy glass ornaments, Sam popped corn, Marlys brought out the bag of cranberries she’d ordered, and August made paper chains, the rings linked together with flour-and-water paste. Sam and Marlys stood back in her office and watched August adjusting the last chain on the branches.

  “I thought he was going to miss his grandmother,” he said in a whisper. “But now it seems this is going to be one of his best Christmases ever.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and gave her a fond hug. “Thanks to you.”

  She looked up at him. “I promised you would have an answer by Christmas,” she said. “I know you’re praying about it, too. I’ve been searching the Word for answers, and last night I read instruction in Ephesians for every man to love his wife as he loves himself and for each wife to reverence her husband. It seems that if a man loves his wife as himself, he will care about the things she cares about and not discourage her goals or dreams. Because he’d care as much for her dreams as his own.”

  “That sounds right to me.”

  “And you’ve shown that already. When I want to visit the Cheyenne or talk about my practice, you encourage me.”

  “I wasn’t too sure about either one at first,” he agreed. “I still didn’t understand the scope of your ability or the way your compassion shows people your true heart. But I want you to be able to follow your dreams.”

  She wanted to take his hand but glanced to discover August watching them. He caught her gaze and pointed to the chain. “Do you like it?”

  She left Sam’s side and knelt beside the boy to gaze up at the tree. “I think it’s perfect. It’s the most beautiful Christmas tree I’ve ever seen.”

  “’Cause we did it together?” he asked.

  “Because we did it together.”

  He turned and wrapped his narrow arms around her waist. She knelt and wrapped her arms around him in turn. He smelled like the glue they’d made and the cinnamon from their hot cocoa. She glanced over his shoulder and caught the glimmer of a tear in Sam’s eye. Sam busied himself picking up bits of string and paper from the wood floor.