“You should have known what?”
“Mrs. Werner!” Beatrix turned toward the insistent call and discovered a young man with a tin star pinned to his wool vest.
The man held out his hand. “Buck Hanley, Mrs. Werner. I’m the sheriff here in Cowboy Creek. I haven’t had a chance to greet you properly.”
The sheriff was an average-sized man with brown hair and blue eyes. He wasn’t as tall or as well built as Colton, and still held the faint callowness of youth. His expression was open and friendly, and she shook his hand.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Hanley,” she said.
“A letter came to the sheriff’s office for you.”
“The sheriff’s office?”
She glanced at Colton, and he shrugged.
“Care of Quincy Davis,” Buck said.
The blood drained from her face. There weren’t many people who’d write to her care of Quincy Davis. She glanced at the letter and recognized the sharp scrawl of her oldest sister.
“Thank you, Sheriff Hanley.”
“No problem.”
The sheriff tipped his hat and excused himself.
Colton stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Why don’t you read your letter? I’ll check on the baby.”
Beatrix gave a distracted nod and searched out a quiet corner, a difficult task. She finally climbed the stairs to the second landing and leaned against the railing. She ran the tip of her thumb beneath the flap, and several bills fluttered out.
Frowning, she knelt and gathered the money. Quickly scanning the contents of the letter, tears sprang into her eyes.
She stood motionless, losing all sense of time and place until a hand settled on her shoulder.
“Bad news?” Colton asked. “You haven’t moved in the time it’s taken me to check on the baby and return. You’re pale as a sheet. You need to sit.”
“I’m all right,” Beatrix replied, still lost in a daze.
Colton pressed two fingers beneath her chin and gently forced her to meet his gaze. “Is something wrong? What’s happened?”
“My sister has written to me.”
Relief shifted across his face. “That’s good. You should keep in touch.”
“Peter is dead.”
Colton went still. “Dead?”
She sniffled. The emotions swirling around her head were too confusing to sort. “There was a train accident outside of Vienna.”
“I’m sorry, Beatrix. This must be a terrible shock.”
“Now that Peter is gone, my father says that I may come home.” She held up the fistful of bills. “He’s sent money for our travels. For me and for Joseph.”
“I don’t understand.” Anger flashed in his eyes. “What does one thing have to do with the other?”
She snorted softly. “I guess with Peter gone, there is less shame for my father. He wants someone to take care of him.”
Colton rubbed his forehead with his thumb and forefinger. “Is this what you want?”
“I can contact my sisters now—my family will no longer shun me. I am happy about this.”
“Will you return home?”
As she stared at the wad of bills, Beatrix fought back a sick feeling. “I don’t know.” She’d left under such strained circumstances, the thought of returning home held a certain appeal. Those first few weeks, she’d been so homesick, she’d ached. She’d left part of her heart behind. Yet here in this vast prairie land, she’d discovered a new home.
Austria was in her past. And though she might visit someday, she knew in her heart she’d never stay. Cowboy Creek was her future.
* * *
Colton felt as though all the air had been suctioned from the room. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t breathe. In an instant everything made sense. Beatrix should go home. She should go home to everything that was familiar, to her family, to her homeland.
She wasn’t here because she was supposed to find happiness with him; she was only here waiting until she could finally go home.
He swallowed around the lump in his throat. “Will you at least stay until Christmas?”
Her face grew ashen. “You think I should go?”
“I think you need to do what’s best for you and Joseph.”
“But what about you?”
The pressure built behind his eyes. “I want what’s best for you.”
“But you would like me to stay through Christmas?”
“The weather,” he said, his voice husky. “The weather is bad for travel this time of year.”
He was being unbearably selfish. The weather in January was bound to be worse, but he wasn’t thinking straight.
“Yes.”
“You shouldn’t travel alone. We can hire someone. That will take time.”
“I don’t mind traveling alone.”
His vision blurred. “I mind. Can you do those two things for me? Can you wait until after Christmas, until after we can find someone to accompany you?”
“If that is what you’d like.”
He cleared his throat. “Yes.”
She folded the letter and replaced the money in the envelope. “It’s time for dessert.”
“I can’t wait any longer. You made the most beautiful dessert on the table.” He held out his elbow. “A beautiful dessert made by a beautiful lady. You made me wait all day for a slice.”
She hooked her arm over his sleeve, her gaze quizzical. “Will you miss us?”
He stared straight ahead, seeing nothing. “Every day.”
All around him people laughed and joked, while inside his world crumbled. He wouldn’t allow himself to hope that she’d change her mind. He’d been selfish enough in asking her to stay another month.
Each opportunity he’d had with her had been interrupted. Even today. He’d hoped to tell her he loved her, but fate had intervened. This time he was grateful. He didn’t want any lingering guilt over his declaration of love clouding her decision.
A line had formed for the row of desserts. Colton and Beatrix joined the queue.
Will jostled in beside him, balancing two plates in one hand. “I’m here for a second serving.”
“Tomasina?”
He chuckled. “Sometimes I think she’s having twins.”
His obvious joy was almost unbearable in the moment. Colton was glimpsing everything his life was missing.
Engrossed in his task, Will hadn’t noticed Colton’s sadness, for which Colton was grateful.
They’d nearly reached the front of the line when a crash sounded.
Several people gasped and formed a circle around the source of the commotion. Leah searched the room and caught sight of them.
Her hands flew to her mouth. “Oh, Beatrix. I’m so sorry.”
The crowd parted, revealing the spattered remnants of the cake Beatrix had labored over all morning. Instantly alert, Colton searched the faces of the group. He caught the back of Eric Schuyler’s head near the end of the table.
Glancing around, he spotted Eugene, his arms folded over his chest, a smirk on his face.
Colton angled his body, shielding Beatrix from the store clerk’s view.
Will followed the direction of his gaze and placed a restraining hand on his arm. “It might have been an accident.”
“Maybe.”
Leah and several other ladies were rapidly cleaning away all evidence of the mess.
“He’s a boy, Colton.” Will spoke near his ear. “He’s not worth it.”
Beatrix clutched his arm, and he caught the tears shimmering in her eyes.
“I’m tired,” she said. “Can we go home?”
He nodded and ushered them from the room.
She gathered her coat and donned the fur h
at he’d bought her that first week after she’d recovered. She was wearing one of the new dresses that had arrived from Hannah’s dress shop. She was beautiful. She was radiant.
She was leaving him.
He quickly fetched Joseph, shielding Beatrix from the curious eyes of the Thanksgiving crowd.
Leah caught them at the door. “Are you all right?”
“She’s a bit worn out,” Colton replied. “Will you make our excuses?”
“Of course,” Leah said, appearing as though she wanted to say something more. “Your cake was beautiful,” she added, her words rushed. “There’s a service on Christmas Eve, with dessert and coffee afterward. I know it’s a lot to ask after what happened today, but would you consider making another?”
“I can make another,” Beatrix replied softly. “It is not too much trouble.”
“I’m sorry,” Leah said. “I only turned my back for an instant. I don’t know what happened.”
“This was not your fault,” Beatrix assured her. “An accident.”
“Yes,” Leah replied, then glanced at Colton.
He caught the question in her gaze. They were both thinking the same thing. Someone had ruined the cake on purpose, and he was fairly certain he knew the culprit. Without proof, there was no use making wild accusations.
Leah pulled Beatrix into a quick hug. “Get some rest.” As Beatrix turned, Leah caught his gaze. “Take care of her.”
“I will,” he said. “I promise.”
He’d take care of her for as much time as they had together.
Chapter Twelve
Beatrix giggled at the crooked star swaying atop the Christmas tree. “Leave it the way it is,” she ordered. “This angle is jaunty.”
“Your decision,” Colton replied from his perch on the stool.
Beatrix narrowed her gaze. Her husband didn’t behave as though he wanted her to leave. For the past four weeks, he’d been perfectly solicitous. He’d helped her with chores, and he’d assisted her with dinner each night.
The previous afternoon, he’d insisted they find a Christmas tree and supervised every stage of the decorating. The house fairly overflowed with evergreen boughs. They were wrapped around every balustrade and beam.
Even Joseph was cooperating. He was sleeping through the night and took regular naps during the day. With her schedule mostly free, Beatrix baked up a storm in anticipation of her surprise. She’d used the money from her father and purchased train tickets for Colton’s grandparents. They were set to arrive late this afternoon. She’d timed their arrival before Christmas Eve as a gift to Colton. She wanted him to spend the holiday with his family, with the people he loved. She wanted to see him happy.
No matter what happened, she certainly wasn’t leaving. Cowboy Creek was her home now. Considering the change in Colton’s attitude these past weeks, she kept hold of a thin thread of hope that he wanted her to stay. Even the sorrow in his eyes had abated somewhat.
Her trips to town had improved, as well. After Will Canfield had spoken to Mr. Booker, Eugene had ceased taunting her, and the Schuyler boys were too busy working with their father to bother her. Even with everything that had happened, the majority of the people in Cowboy Creek had been kinder to her in her time of need than her own family.
She had friends here. Leah, Tomasina, Marlys and many more. This was where she wanted to raise Joseph. She wasn’t giving up on Colton. Not yet. Not when she’d finally discovered the true meaning of love.
The day was clear and bright, and she had a few more supplies she needed in anticipation of the arrival of her guests. Her heart light, she glanced out the frost-covered window panes.
“I’m going to Booker & Son,” she said. “Would you like to come along?”
“Yes,” he replied easily. “I need some things, too.”
Colton jumped from his perch on the stool and examined the Christmas tree. “I think this is the finest tree in town.”
“I agree.”
After she’d gotten ready and bundled Joseph, Colton paused by the door. “I can hitch the wagon.”
“There’s no need. It’s only a few blocks, and I don’t have many purchases. Joseph is bundled, as well.”
“I’ll carry him.”
Beatrix handed over the baby, and Colton tugged back the blankets with his index finger. At nearly three months old, Joseph’s face had filled out. Some of his hair had thinned, and he had a perfectly ridiculous hairline.
Colton clearly adored the baby, and hope flared in her chest. From that very first day she’d met him she’d known that something was troubling her husband. Something he’d buried deep inside himself. Perhaps if he shared his burden, there could be a future between them. Until then, she could only wait and hope.
Feeling optimistic, she tugged her fur-lined mittens over her wrists.
“You look beautiful,” he said.
Her cheeks pinkened. “I look the same as I do every day.”
“You look beautiful every day. I like the dresses you’ve bought from Hannah’s store.” Today she wore a wool plaid dress in shades of emerald and pale green. “The color suits you.”
Her color deepened. “Thank you.”
At his words, her optimism grew. Together they walked the distance to Booker & Son. Colton kept Joseph tucked against his side, with his other arm wrapped around Beatrix’s waist. She didn’t protest.
Inside the mercantile, she took the baby once more. Joseph delighted in all the sights and sounds of the busy store, and customers stopped her every few feet to exclaim over him. They quickly accomplished their task. Brimming with obvious pride in his family, Colton gathered her purchases. Another sign he was growing to care for them.
He held open the door for her, and she stepped onto the boardwalk. Something slammed into the side of her head. She shrieked and stumbled back. Colton rushed forward and caught her against his chest.
Joseph squalled, and she frantically peeled back the layers of blankets. Snow peppered his hair, but the infant was more angry than hurt. Beatrix touched the side of her face. She’d been struck by a snowball.
Colton gathered them back into the store. The customers who’d seen the prank gathered around them, murmuring their concern.
Beatrix swiped at her face. “It was nothing. A snowball.”
“This ends today,” Colton declared, his voice ominously low.
A chill rippled over her. “We’re fine.”
The door burst open, and Mr. Schuyler stomped inside, his hand wrapped around Eric’s upper arm.
Mr. Schuyler caught sight of them and shoved the boy forward. “You’ll apologize. Now.”
Eric shrugged from his father’s hold and mumbled an insincere apology.
His father’s face suffused with color. “She was holding the baby.”
Eric blanched. “I didn’t see.”
Colton kept a protective arm around Beatrix and the baby. “I need to speak with you, Mr. Schuyler. But not here. Meet me at our house in twenty minutes. Bring Eric and Dirk, as well.”
The normally brash man meekly nodded. “We’ll be there.”
Uncertain of her husband’s mood, Beatrix was quiet on their return trip home.
Once inside, he caught both her shoulders. “Are you certain neither you nor Joseph was hurt?”
“I’m certain.”
His shoulders slumped in relief. “Good.”
She wrapped a new blanket around Joseph and placed him in his wicker bassinet in the parlor. Colton tenderly dried her face and brushed the snow from her hair.
When he’d finished, he sat down beside her at the kitchen table. “I need to tell you something before the Schuylers arrive. I love you.”
“I—”
He touched her lips, silencing her. “You have to
hear the rest before you say anything. I need to tell the Schuylers a story, a story that may change the way you feel about me. But I want you to know something. I want you to know that I am going to fight for us. I love you, and I love Joseph, and I’m going to fight for the happiness of our family every day of my life. Please, remember that after you hear what I have to say.”
Her heart thumped against her ribs. This was the day she’d waited for, prayed for. She’d finally learn what caused the sorrow behind his eyes.
He retrieved a sheaf of papers. “This is your Christmas present. I wrote something for the time capsule.”
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“I did. You were right. Writing down the story of the past was lifting a burden. And now there’s another burden I need to lift.”
Reverently accepting the papers, Beatrix said, “Thank you.”
He’d given her the gift of his past, now she needed the promise of their future.
She sensed something in him had shifted, and marveled at the change. Moments later, the Schuyler boys, along with their father, sat around her kitchen table.
Mr. Schuyler pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m as much to blame as the boys. I didn’t want them to be bullied, so I made sure they knew how to defend themselves. But I focused so much on making sure they were strong, that I never took the time to teach them how to use that strength. There’ll be some changes around our house, I can promise you that.”
Colton rested his forearms on the table and fisted his hands. “I want to tell you a story.”
All eyes turned toward him.
As Colton told the tale of his brother, Beatrix’s eyes misted over. When he finished, she cupped her fingers over his clenched hands. He met her gaze, and something changed between them. An understanding.
“You’re young,” Colton said, his eyes fixed on the boys once more. “But the choices you make have consequences. You have your whole lives ahead of you. Someday you may do something you can’t take back, and you’ll have to live with that burden. I’m asking you to make some changes now, before it’s too late. I promise you this, if you ever target Beatrix again, things will not turn out well for you.”
Dirk pushed back his chair and stood. “I’m real sorry, Mrs. Werner. I’m real sorry about everything. I shouldn’t have called you that name. I shouldn’t have wrecked your cake or hit you with a snowball. I didn’t know you were holding the baby.”
Cowboy Creek Christmas Page 24