Cowboy Creek Christmas

by Cheryl St. John

  “What happened to him?”

  “We’d stolen some apples from the neighbor, an irascible old fellow, and he started a feud. Little things at first. A broken fence, a few lost chickens. Joseph and I took to retaliating. Harmless pranks our parents didn’t know about. A fish in the hay bales to stink up the barn.”

  “Sounds like you were two normal boys.”

  “Then word got out there were Indians in the area. Nothing scared the settlers more than Indians. We got this idea to dress up and ride our horses past the old man’s place. Figured we’d scare him.” Colton’s vision dimmed, and he stared down a long tunnel into the dark past. “We scared him all right. He shot at us. A bullet hit Joseph.”

  “I’m sorry, Colton. I didn’t know.”

  “Joseph survived for a month. Worse thing I ever experienced. It was like watching someone die by bits and pieces. You’d try and hold those pieces together, but they just kept breaking apart.”

  “That’s why you fought so recklessly? Because you blamed yourself?”

  “Can you really blame me?” Colton tipped back his head and stared at a spider web clinging between the dusty rafters. “And it wasn’t just Joseph, it was like we tore apart the whole town. Even though everyone knew it was an accident, that old man couldn’t live with himself and passed away within the year. My ma stopped talking to my pa. She stopped talking to me. No one invited us to supper anymore. My parents eventually sent me to live with my grandparents.”

  Will remained silent while Colton fought against the lump in his throat.

  “You know how when a tree gets struck by lightning, sometimes one half dies while the other half lives? That’s how it felt. I didn’t know how to be a whole person without him. When Joseph died, a part of me died, too. After that, I just thought of what he’d do, and that’s what I’d do. It was like I was trying to live his life and mine, too. Till one day I couldn’t tell who I was anymore. That’s why I took all those assignments during the war, because that’s what Joseph would have done.”

  Inexplicably exhausted, Colton bent and resumed hammering out the horseshoe.

  After several minutes, Will stood and reached for his cane. He braced both hands on the silver tip. “I didn’t serve in the war with Joseph, I served with you. I know the man I served with, and I know that man well. You’re a good man. You deserve to live your own life—to find happiness for yourself.”

  “I’ve tried for happiness a few times since then, but something always stands in the way. I don’t think I was meant for a life like yours.”

  “You make your own fate, Colton. Maybe you don’t think you deserve the life you seek.”

  Colton kept his head bent. “I’ll bring the horse by later.”

  “I can fetch him.”

  “I’ll bring him by.”

  Will heaved a gusty breath. “Promise you’ll stop in and say hello to Tomasina.”

  “Promise she won’t ask me any questions?”

  “I never make promises for Tomasina. You know that.”

  Will tipped his hat and turned.

  When the door closed behind him, Colton scrubbed a hand down his face. Talking about Joseph brought up the same old feelings. The guilt, the shame, the sorrow.

  If he allowed himself to know joy, true joy, then all that suffering was nothing. His mother’s, Joseph’s, everyone’s suffering meant nothing.

  And if he couldn’t go backward, how could he move forward? He wasn’t the hero Beatrix thought him to be, and he couldn’t stand the idea of her turning away from him if she found out who he really was.

  Chapter Six

  Beatrix checked her hair in the gilded mirror hanging in the parlor of the Cattleman Hotel one last time. “I look nice, ja?”

  “You look lovely,” Leah replied.

  Shortly after Joseph’s birth, Beatrix had moved to the Cattleman Hotel for the remainder of her recuperation. Apparently there was a boardinghouse in town as well, but a friend of Colton’s owned the hotel and had insisted she stay there. The hotel was lovely, but her recuperation had gone on far too long. She was anxious for some fresh air and new faces. Leah and Colton had been her two faithful, and only, visitors. Fearful of her health, the doctor had strictly limited her company. She’d spent the solitude practicing her English relentlessly. She’d pored over books and magazines, and forced herself to speak only English with strangers.

  Though she was still most comfortable speaking with Colton in German, she was making progress.

  With Leah’s guidance, she’d also developed a routine feeding and sleeping schedule for Joseph, and Colton always timed his visits while the baby was awake. Colton clearly enjoyed holding Joseph, and he appeared to be developing a genuine affection for the infant.

  He would stay for precisely forty-five minutes. Never a minute more or a minute less.

  He often brought along a gift for Joseph, a carved wooden figure of an animal or an intricate metal puzzle piece that was far too advanced for the baby’s tiny, pudgy fingers. Sometimes the gifts were for her, instead, like the metal clothes iron with an elaborately twisted handle.

  Leah had teased him for bringing such a domestic item, and to her chagrin, his gifts to her had ceased. No matter how many times she praised the workmanship of the iron, his ears only turned red and he changed the subject.

  After begging and pleading, Colton and the doctor had finally agreed to allow her a brief turn around the town in a covered buggy. Since this was their first official outing as husband and wife, she wanted to look her best.

  “Thank you for the dress.” Beatrix adjusted the lace collar. “The color is pretty.”

  The dress was a deep periwinkle-blue with jet-black piping crisscrossing the fitted bodice. The skirts were modestly full, with only a slight ruffle at the hem. None of the dresses she’d brought from Austria were nearly this pretty—nor did they fit well since Joseph’s arrival.

  “Keep the dress,” Leah insisted. “Consider it a gift.”

  Though Beatrix had grown adept at understanding many English words, she still struggled with her own speech. She couldn’t recall the English word for expensive.

  “Nein,” Beatrix said, “It’s...a...teuer.”

  “It may be expensive, but she can afford the price,” a familiar voice spoke in German from the doorway.

  Beatrix started and blushed. “Guten Morgen.”

  “Guten Morgen,” Colton replied.

  He kept one enormous shoulder propped against the doorjamb, nearly taking up the entire space. She sometimes forgot the sheer enormity of his size and strength. Today he wore a tan suede coat with sheepskin lining showing at the collar.

  There was something lighter about him today, a hint of a smile in his eyes that she rarely noticed. His buoyant mood lent him an almost rakish look. She was keenly aware of his bold maleness, and her blood warmed.

  “You look lovely,” he said. “Do you have a warm coat?”

  For an instant she felt as giddy as one of the schoolgirls on the playground when a boy cast a look in their direction. “Leah has lent me her cloak.”

  She gestured toward the matching periwinkle fabric draped over a chair. She crossed the room, but Colton reached the spot first. He arranged the material over her shoulders and gathered the ties near her throat.

  They stood so close, their breaths mingled.

  “This color suits you,” he said, his voice gliding over her like a caress.

  She was instantly aware of him, and her mouth grew dry. His unique eyes glittered in the light shafting through the open drapes, that curious shade of brown circling the evergreen center. He smiled at her, softening his face into a tenderness that was as unexpected as it was heady.

  Leah plucked baby Joseph from his bassinet. “I’ll leave you two alone.”

 
Colton immediately moved away, leaving Beatrix oddly bereft.

  “Not without a hello from my number-one fellow,” he said.

  Colton grasped the tiny bundle and held the baby close. Over the weeks he’d shown a fatherly interest and pride in Joseph.

  “I’ve just fed him,” Beatrix said. “Sometimes I think that boy is hollow from his toes to his fingertips.”

  Intent on the infant, Colton gave a distracted nod at her joke. Beatrix quashed the tiny surge of loneliness. She was blessed. She’d married a man who adored her child. If she occasionally felt superfluous, that was a small price to pay for the obvious affection Colton harbored for Joseph.

  Today, though, once they left on their outing she would have her husband all to herself, and she intended to make the most of her time. This was her first real chance to see the town and have some time alone with Colton. A fragile bond had begun to build between them in the quiet moments they spent together with Joseph.

  Though Colton didn’t appear to regret his hasty proposal, they were both still getting to know one another. They were both still learning the rules of their hurried marriage and unfamiliar relationship.

  As he cooed over Joseph, she waited patiently by the door. As much as she was anxious for a breath of fresh air, she couldn’t interrupt the two. Eventually sensing her eagerness to be on their way, he handed the baby to Leah.

  He carefully extracted his fingers from Joseph’s chubby grip. “Strong as an ox, this boy.”

  Once outside, Colton gestured. “Booker & Son is just across the street. I have something I need to pick up there before the buggy ride. Can you walk that far?”

  “I’m not an invalid. I can walk.”

  “You nearly died.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulder. “And the wind is biting today.”

  “But I didn’t die.” She shivered and pressed herself closer to his warmth. “And I will take your shelter from the wind.”

  He took her hand as she traversed a rough patch, and she quietly refused to let go.

  Glancing down, he asked, “You’re certain you’re warm enough?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you’re okay leaving Joseph with Leah for the next hour?”

  “Yes.” Beatrix rolled her eyes. She adored Joseph, but she’d been cooped up for far too long. The baby would be fine without her for an hour or two. “Leah has been a wonderful help to me. I don’t know what I would have done without her.”

  As they made their way along the boardwalk, Beatrix soon realized the two of them were something of a curiosity. There were points and whispers, and even a few outright stares. Colton tensed beside her.

  He tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow. “We’re something of a novelty.”

  “Surely their curiosity will wear off quickly.”

  A muscle ticked along his jaw. “I sincerely hope so.”

  Beatrix shivered. Though she truly believed Peter had been genuinely fond of her in the beginning of the relationship, she’d soon come to realize that he was ashamed of his affection for her, especially when they were in public together. Though their families were both working class, Peter traced his lineage back to royalty. She’d imagined things were different in America. There was no royalty to trace, no lineages to compare. Since she’d arrived, though, she’d learned that class systems existed in all forms. She’d also discovered not everyone was welcoming of immigrants. There were probably many single girls in town who thought the handsome blacksmith could do better than an immigrant with broken English and the burden of a child.

  A discouraging thought sank its teeth into her joy. Was Colton ashamed of her?

  There was little time to ponder the disquieting reflection. Colton pushed open the door of the mercantile, and she was immediately assailed with a myriad of sights and smells. Booker & Son was an absolute delight. More than twice the size of the store in her village, and full of exotic labels and colorful packages. Freed from the prison of her sickroom, she skipped from one display to another.

  Colton indulged her enthusiasm, trailing behind her through the store and translating when necessary. She laughingly donned hats, and whipped a fur-lined scarf around her neck with a saucy grin. Though she hadn’t the coin to purchase any of the extravagant items, playacting was enough to entertain her.

  When she’d circled the mercantile twice, he excused himself to check the post office for any correspondence. Beatrix spent the time perusing the store. She couldn’t get enough of all the goods for sale. With her fingers threaded behind her back, she approached the counter and stared at an enormous jar filled with hardboiled eggs in some sort of liquid.

  The young, pimpled clerk, no more than eighteen or nineteen years old, stood behind the counter.

  He lifted his head from polishing the glass countertop, and she pointed at the jar.

  “Was ist dass?” she asked, the words blurting out in German in her excitement.

  The man sneered. “Speak English, you dunce.” He chuckled. “You don’t even understand that, do you? I just called you a dunce.”

  Beatrix gasped. While she didn’t understand all the words, she was fairly certain of the sentiment. Her cheeks burning with shame, she backed away from the counter and bumped into another gentleman.

  He was tall and distinguished with jet-black hair. His dark suit was precisely tailored, and he leaned heavily on a silver-handled cane. “Mrs. Werner, I presume. I’m Will Canfield. Wie geht es euch?”

  A rush of relief weakened her knees. “Sehr gut, danke schön.”

  “I’m afraid I’ve exhausted my knowledge of German.” Mr. Canfield nodded in the direction of the store clerk. “Is young Eugene bothering you?”

  Beatrix shook her head. “Nein. No.”

  She didn’t want to complain or make a scene that might cause her husband to be embarrassed by her. She’d simply have to work harder on her English.

  The clerk’s expression had altered at the sight of Mr. Canfield, and he offered the man a friendly greeting. “Always nice to see you, sir. Is there anything I can get for you from behind the counter?”

  “I believe the lady was asking about the jar of pickled eggs, Eugene.”

  “Pickled eggs?” Beatrix annunciated the words carefully. “Good?”

  Mr. Canfield wrinkled his nose. “More of an acquired taste.”

  Colton joined the two of them surreptitiously and set his purchases on the counter. She spied the fur from a muff she’d admired earlier under a red tartan blanket, and her joy grew. Was he purchasing the item for her? Probably she should refuse the gift, but what was the harm? It wasn’t as though she’d asked for anything. If Colton wanted to buy her something, surely there was no fault in accepting.

  He spoke a few words to the clerk. Eugene pulled a set of rings for sizing from beneath the jewelry counter and shoved them in her direction.

  “See. Which. One. Fits,” Eugene spoke loudly and slowly.

  Colton frowned.

  Mr. Canfield set his jaw. “Mr. Booker holds a high standard for his store. I’m sure he wouldn’t want to hear that one of his clerks has been rude to a paying customer.”

  Colton expression turned thunderous. “Was this boy treating you rudely?”

  “Nein.” Beatrix’s heart thumped heavily against her ribs “No. He does—he did—nothing.”

  The two men exchanged a glance. She sincerely hoped Mr. Canfield hadn’t heard the clerk’s offensive comment earlier. She’d simply avoid Eugene in the future. At least until her English improved.

  She hastily tried several of the rings and found one that fit perfectly. “This one.”

  She spoke the words in her best English.

  Colton covered the ring sizers with his enormous hand. “I can size the ring myself if you let me borrow these.”

  “Can’t do
that,” the clerk replied with a smirk. “Store rules.”

  The pimpled clerk made a point of writing down the number, and Beatrix reluctantly handed over her ring for sizing.

  She slanted a glance at Colton. “Will you wear a ring?”

  “It’s not safe to wear rings in my line of work.”

  “Of course,” she said, though his answer only increased her trepidation.

  Men rarely wore wedding rings. Only Colton’s immediate dismissal of her question had her worrying that he was ashamed to publically acknowledge their relationship. She’d noticed rings on several of the married men in town, and she’d assumed Colton would follow suit. Except his explanation about his work made perfect sense. He handled molten hot metal. Not exactly conducive to a piece of gold jewelry.

  She glanced at the wide gold band on Mr. Canfield’s hand. Probably he had a different job. He appeared to be a businessman.

  Mr. Canfield tipped his head a in a polite bow. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Mrs. Werner. Now that the doctor has lifted the restrictions on your visitors, my wife would like to meet you.”

  “Yes,” Beatrix eagerly replied. She was anxious to expand her circle of friends and practice her English. “I would like to meet her, as well.”

  “We’re having a baby soon.” Pride twinkled in Mr. Canfield’s eyes. “She’ll want to visit your little one.”

  “I would enjoy that.”

  Even the promise of having visitors stirred her excitement. She couldn’t help the burst of pride at her pronunciation. There were certain phrases she’d practiced to exhaustion.

  After saying their polite goodbyes, Colton took her elbow, and together they stepped outside once more. While Beatrix was delighted with her purchases and with Colton’s thoughtfulness, her unease over the clerk at the mercantile lingered. Had Mr. Canfield heard more than he’d revealed? Would he tell Colton that her lack of proper English had caused her to be mocked? More than anything she wanted him to be proud of her.