Cowboy Creek Christmas

by Cheryl St. John

  After chatting in the parlor, Leah led them to the dining room where they gathered around the table. Beatrix remained quiet as Leah and Tomasina set to work. They wrote out who in the town had served in the war along with their rank. There was little chance for her to help, but she studied their writing, and recognized many of the words. After forty-five minutes, a knock sounded at the door.

  Tomasina pushed off from her chair and staggered upright, cradling her round stomach. “That will be my husband. With my time nearing, he has to check up on me every hour or he frets. Trust me, the sight of Will fretting is not for the faint of heart.”

  Beatrix smiled despite the prick of loneliness invading her thoughts once more. Not since the day they’d moved into the house had Colton fussed or worried over her. Lately, he barely seemed to notice she was around.

  Tomasina’s prediction was correct, and Mr. Canfield was ushered into the entry. Dapper and charming, Will complimented each of the ladies in turn and even spoke a few practiced words in German to Beatrix. After exchanging a few more pleasantries, Will helped his wife into her wool coat, wrapped a scarf around her neck, and carefully led her down the front stairs.

  Beatrix followed their slow progress, Will with his cane in one hand and his arm protectively wrapped around his wife’s shoulders.

  Leah followed her gaze. “They’re quite a pair, aren’t they?”

  “Yes.”

  “You should have seen them butt heads in the beginning. I wasn’t certain if they were going to marry each other or kill each other.”

  “Really?”

  “I’m exaggerating, of course. But they had quite a feisty courtship. They spent the first night of their honeymoon in a posse tracking the Murdoch Gang. Reverend Taggart married them right there on Eden Street, with the rest of the posse lined up behind the couple, and everyone else gawking from the boardwalk.”

  “This is a story you should write for the time capsule.”

  Leah grew thoughtful. “You’re right. We should add the story of Texas Tom and her Wild West Show. Men aren’t the only ones who make history around here.”

  Beatrix grinned, pleased her suggestion had met with such enthusiasm. She gathered her cloak and thanked Leah for the invitation. “I wish I could be of more help.”

  “You’ve been a great help. Next time we meet, we’ll invite a few more of the ladies. We didn’t want you to be overwhelmed.” Leah tapped her chin. “Oh, before I forget. We’re putting together a banquet to celebrate Thanksgiving. Since the whole town is invited, we’re hosting the dinner at the Cattleman Hotel.”

  Beatrix frowned. “Thanksgiving?”

  Leah playfully slapped her forehead. “How silly of me. There’s no reason why you should—it’s only recently become official. Our president has declared that Thanksgiving is a day for giving thanks for the blessing of the harvest, and for our country’s peace and prosperity. At least that’s what it says on paper. In reality, it’s a day for the women to cook up a storm and for everyone to eat like bears preparing for hibernation. I think it’s taken on a deeper meaning since the war.”

  “This sounds similar to the Austrian festival of Erntedankfest.”

  “Tell me about this festival.”

  “It is a very large community celebration. There is a parade and a dance.”

  “You’ve piqued my interest. You should join the committee, and we can incorporate some of your traditions.”

  Recalling how Eugene and the Schuyler boys had reacted to her heritage, her stomach folded. “This is not a good idea.”

  “Why ever not?”

  “Not everyone is welcoming of immigrants, especially from Austria.”

  Leah frowned. “That’s ridiculous. Everyone in town was an immigrant at one time or another. Except for Sitting Bear, of course, but he’s the only one who has any right to condemn an immigrant.” She huffed. “It’ll be a wonderful chance for you to meet more people in town.”

  “And practice my English.”

  “Your English has improved greatly. You haven’t met the new doctor, have you? Marlys Boyd? She might speak German, as well. I’ll ask her. She knows several languages. I was skeptical at first because her methods are a little different. But after she cured Pippa of her dry skin, I’m convinced. Anyway, I’m babbling. We’d love to see you and your family at the Thanksgiving Festival.”

  Family. Her family. Beatrix enjoyed the way that sounded, and appreciated Leah’s thoughtfulness.

  “Thank you. Can I cook something for this festival?”

  “Do you have a special dish?”

  “Ja. A torte. A dessert.”

  “That sounds marvelous,” Leah replied with a wave. “Come to the celebration and bring your dessert.”

  Sun glinted off the snow on her walk home, and her breath puffed vaporous clouds into the air. Wanting to stretch her legs, Beatrix crossed the street and made her way toward the dressmaker’s shop. She was sorely tired of the dresses she owned. Colton had offered to buy her more, but she was reluctant to accept any more of his charity. She had a little money of her own left over from the trip, and she wanted to treat herself.

  Hannah, the store owner, assisted her with fabric selections and took her measurements. Once outside again, Beatrix whistled a merry tune. Her meeting with Leah and Tomasina had left her more hopeful, more optimistic of the future.

  A shadow crossed her path and she stumbled. Eric and Dirk Schuyler blocked her way.

  Eric pulled a small knife from his pocket and ran the tip beneath the fingernail of his index finger. “You better talk to your husband.”

  Beatrix froze. “I already have.”

  “Our pa is real mad. Colton is the only blacksmith for miles, and Pa’s got no one to do the metalwork. Except your husband is refusing the business.”

  She glanced around, but the street was deserted against the frigid temperature. “Then you must apologize, no? That is what Colton asked.”

  “I ain’t apologizing to you. Fix this. Lie to him. Tell him we told you that we were real sorry. You fix this, or you’ll be sorry.”

  He pivoted on his heel and his brother followed.

  Beatrix stumbled the rest of the way home in a daze. Even if she lied to Colton, he was bound to speak with Mr. Schuyler. What then? He’d know she’d lied. If she confessed to Colton that the boys had threatened her, she’d only escalate the matter and ruin any chance he had of making peace.

  Both choices left her trapped.

  * * *

  Colton dreaded shoeing old man Bishop’s horse. The animal had never been properly broken and shied at every touch and noise. While some horses were naturally more skittish than others, Bishop’s horse was terrified of its own shadow. Walter Frye had volunteered, but Colton couldn’t send someone else in good conscience.

  “C’mon, Shasta,” Colton soothed the agitated animal. “It’s all right. Just relax. We go through this every time. There’s no need for all the fuss and bother.”

  The horse jerked its leg, yanking Colton forward. “Easy there.”

  Two more nails and he was done.

  A loud bang sounded, and a small, furry animal darted through the barn. Shasta reared. Colton lost his hold. The terrified animal sidestepped.

  A dog barked. Colton braced himself against the rough slats of the barn. “It’s only a dog, Shasta. Surely you’ve seen a dog before. You’re as old as the hills.”

  The horse must have taken umbrage with the mention of its age. Shasta’s eyes rolled back, showing the whites, and the horse’s nostrils flared.

  The dog dashed from behind a pile of hay. Shasta reared, front legs flailing. Colton whistled, shooing the dog out of the path of the rampaging horse. Shasta whipped around.

  Colton slid toward the half-open barn door. The dog scurried through the opening fi
rst. Shasta wheeled around and hind legs thrashed. The first blow landed against Colton’s ribs. He yelped and automatically covered the spot. The second blow struck his hand.

  Pain exploded up the length of his arm. Protecting his ribs with his good hand, Colton knelt to avoid the flailing hooves and crawled his way toward the exit. He slid through the narrow opening.

  Once free of the rampaging horse, he collapsed on his back and groaned.

  Old man Bishop leaned over him, his forehead creased. “What on earth happened to you?”

  “Fetch Daniel,” Colton ordered weakly. Old man Bishop lived near the stockyards. This time of the day, Daniel would be checking the accounts. “He’ll be in the stockyard’s office.”

  “Suit yourself.” The old man slapped his hands against his thighs and squinted. “But I’d see a doc if I was you. Cuz you don’t look so good.”

  “Fetch Daniel.”

  “All right, all right. Quit your jibber jabber.”

  Prior experience told Colton that he had bruised a couple ribs and, judging by the rapid swelling in his hand, busted a finger or two, as well. There was nothing the doc could do for those types of wounds other than order rest and a tight wrap around the injuries. Daniel could accomplish the task as easily. After four years of war, most soldiers could do some doctoring.

  The angry horse continued to buck, and sharp cracks sounded against the barn. The dog that had started all the trouble barked at the noise and lunged toward the barn, then darted back again.

  Colton groaned. “You’re real tough now that he can’t get to you.”

  The dog appeared young, not quite full grown, with a dark brown coat of fur and a pointed snout. The unrepentant animal trotted over and gave Colton a lick on his cheek.

  With his good hand, Colton shooed the animal away. “I think you’ve done enough already.”

  The pain came and went in waves. Old man Bishop was sure taking his time. He closed his eyes until he heard footsteps nearing.

  Two familiar faces appeared above him. “I’ve seen worse,” Daniel declared. “Let’s get you home before you freeze to death.”

  Will tilted his head. “I can’t believe you let that tired old nag get the better of you.”

  Colton grimaced. “This is who you brought for help? He’s only got one good leg himself.”

  “You’re in no position to complain, old man.” Will poked him in the shoulder with his cane. “Even on one leg I’m steadier than you.”

  The good-natured teasing had taken his mind off his pain. Temporarily. When together the two men hoisted Colton between them, he hissed a breath. Colton leaned heavily on Daniel and cradled his arm protectively against his chest.

  “We’ll take you to the doc’s,” Will said.

  “No.” Colton shook his head. “That old fool will probably try and bleed me for something as simple as a couple of bruised ribs.”

  “He’s gone anyway,” Daniel offered. “I’ll leave a note on the chalkboard. He can visit you later.”

  “I’ll be fine. Just take me home.”

  Beatrix. She already had a baby to care for, and now he was coming home a temporary invalid.

  As though reading his thoughts, Will said, “I’ll have Simon bring by a tray for dinner from the hotel kitchen. Beatrix will have her hands full for the next few days.”

  Colton wasn’t going to be able to work, and he desperately needed to leave the house. Otherwise he’d be alone with Beatrix. He’d hear her laughter and catch the scent of her rosewater hair rinse. He’d hear the sound of her playing music. He’d never experienced an instrument as beautiful as the armonica.

  The next few days were going to be torture, and pain was the least of his worries.

  Since the day of the move, he’d kept their schedules separate. Every time something good started between them, they were interrupted. If circumstances conspired against them, that was probably for the best.

  He was little more than a bad seed from which nothing of value could grow.

  A few broken fingers were the least of his worries. Being around Beatrix was going to be the true torment. She was so close, and yet just out of his reach.

  Chapter Ten

  Beatrix heard the commotion from the second floor. She rested Joseph against her shoulder and rapidly traversed the steps. The back door flew open, and Colton stood on the threshold. He was flanked by Will Canfield and Daniel Gardner, who held him propped up with their hands around his shoulders.

  His face was ashen and contorted into a grimace of pain. Her hand flew to her mouth. She beckoned them toward the bedroom on the first floor, the room she’d been preparing for the future visit from his grandparents. A visit he hadn’t agreed to yet.

  “This way,” she ordered.

  The men half carried, half dragged her husband behind her, his heels scuffing along the floor. His strained face was set against the pain. They rested him prone on the bed, and he threw back his head, his eyes closed, his lips pinched together.

  Her questions tumbled over one another, and she tentatively reached for his hand. “What happened? Where are you injured?”

  Daniel reached for the baby. “Why don’t you let me hold Joseph while you sort out Colton?”

  She hesitated only a moment before handing over the baby. Her gaze swung between her prone husband and Daniel. The blond-haired man was about Colton’s age, though a full head shorter. Then again, most men were a full head shorter than her husband. Daniel appeared comfortable with the baby, and she turned her attention to Colton once more. Daniel had his own child, and his wife served as midwife. He must have plenty of practice with infants.

  Colton’s jaw was clenched, and one hand gripped the edge of the mattress. Assuming her calmest demeanor, she lowered one hip to the bed next to his fisted hand and brushed the tumbled hair from his forehead.

  “There was an accident, ma’am,” Mr. Canfield spoke. “He was shoeing a horse at old man Bishop’s place, and the horse spooked. Colton took a hoof to the ribs. They’re just bruised, I think, but he’s busted a couple of fingers.”

  The hoof had torn his shirt, and she peeled back the layer of canvas and tucked aside the rip in his union suit. An enormous purpling bruise was rapidly spreading over the lower half of his chest and side.

  She felt the blood drain from her face and swallowed convulsively. There’d been a boy in her village who’d fallen from his horse and broken his ribs. They’d punctured his lung, and he’d died the next day.

  She rested a trembling hand on Colton’s chest. “Can you breathe?”

  A jerky nod met her words. “Hurts. I can breathe. Just need to rest.”

  “Fetch the doctor,” she ordered Will.

  “The doc isn’t available.”

  Her ire rose. “What do you mean he isn’t available?”

  “I mean to say that he’s not at his office. We left a note on the chalkboard.”

  She pursed her lips and muttered in German. “A fine lot of good it does to have a doctor who isn’t even there when you need him.”

  “I’m all right,” Colton told her with a shuddering gasp. “Just knocked the wind out of me.”

  “You’re not all right. You’ve got broken fingers. You can hardly draw a breath.” She pressed her fist against her mouth and chocked back a sob. “Someone find that doctor.”

  “Dr. Boyd,” Daniel chimed in. “She can help.”

  Will Canfield scratched the back of his neck. “Are you certain you want us to fetch Marlys Boyd? She’s got some odd ideas.”

  “If she’s a doctor,” Beatrix spoke, a shrill edge in her voice, “she’s the best choice we have right now. Fetch her.”

  “All right, Mrs. Werner.” Will removed his hand and took a cautious step. “I’ll fetch her and return in a lick.”

 
“Danke schön.” She drew in a deep, calming breath. “Thank you. I did not mean to yell at you.”

  “I’ve got a wife, Mrs. Werner. I know you’re worried.”

  The man tipped his hat and backed out of the room.

  Daniel gently wiggled the baby against his shoulder. “I’ll leave you two alone for a moment.”

  Beatrix brushed her quivering fingers over the rapid swelling of Colton’s bruised ribs.

  He clutched her wrist. “I’m fine.”

  “You’re not fine. I know you’ve been avoiding me, but I won’t allow you to push me away now. You might recall that we’re married, and I’m your wife. I’m going to take care of you whether you like it or not, Colton Werner, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

  “Beatrix—”

  She pressed two fingers over his lips. “No words. I must see to Joseph. Daniel can stay with you until I return.”

  There. Let him argue with her now. He was flat on his back, and entirely at her disposal. There’d be no more slipping out before dawn and returning after sunset. “Bea—”

  “Not one word!”

  She slammed out the door and smoothed her hands over her hair, then down her apron.

  He was about to get a taste of what it felt like to be a captive audience. They were married. There was no point in the two of them behaving as though they were strangers.

  If she had to force the issue, now was as good a time as any.

  Daniel glanced up from his seat, Joseph nestled against his chest. “Everything all right, Mrs. Werner?”

  She set her jaw. “Ja. No more work for Colton.”

  “I’ve seen that look on my wife’s face before.” Daniel stood and handed her the baby, then patted her shoulder. “I’ll just give Colton my sympathies.”

  He returned to the sickroom with a cheerful grin and a wink.

  Beatrix rocked the baby and watched for the doctor. Why was the foolish man happy? There were times she did not understand Americans.

  * * *

  “You’re a fortunate man, Mr. Werner,” Dr. Boyd said. “Your ribs are only bruised, not broken. I’ll give you something for the pain. You’ll sleep through the worst of it.”