A Texas Kind of Christmas

by Jodi Thomas

  “Well, thank the Lord for small favors.” She nuzzled Ware’s head, kissing his forehead. The boy blushed but allowed his mother’s affection. “I’m expecting your daddy any minute, and I’m not sure how happy he’s gonna be when he hears your adventures.”

  “But I had to have an adventure, else I couldn’t partner with Asher and John like you and Daddy do,” Ware explained seriously.

  “I worked for some years helping my uncle manage his estate. How does your partnership work?” Eugenie asked.

  “Depending on our labor, we divide our produce and profits,” Asher explained. “But this year, I barely worked hard enough to justify any part of Eva’s vegetables. Most, I think, she gave me just out of pity.”

  “We can’t have you starve, Asher.” Eva shook her head, smiling, then gestured at the room around them. “Besides, every day when I enjoy this cabin, I think you deserve another plate of okra.”

  “What is the relationship between the cabin and okra?” Eugenie asked.

  “This used to be Asher’s cabin,” Eva explained.

  “Until he built that fancy one for Miss Sadie,” Ware added.

  An expression Eugenie couldn’t decipher crossed Asher’s face, and Eva gave her son a stern look.

  Sadie.

  He wore no ring. But how could a man like Asher not be spoken for? The thought deflated her. Surely, he’d had a dozen opportunities to tell her about Sadie over the last fortnight. It would have stung, but she would have preferred it to finding out from the offhanded remark of a child. From Ware, it felt like a hard slap. And if Asher had left out something so significant, what other important parts of his life had he neglected to mention? And to think she’d believed she’d learned his character.

  Ware looked pained at his mother’s silent rebuke, but Asher gently patted the young boy’s shoulder.

  “Fancy?” Eugenie kept her voice light, even teasing, but she watched Asher’s face to see how it changed.

  He shrugged, not meeting her eyes. “All I did was make a shed for the horses and put two seats in the privy.”

  “I believe you put in a glass window or two,” Eva interjected, trying to lighten the mood.

  “Might’ve done.” Asher rubbed the scarred flesh on the back of his hand.

  Eva touched his shoulder. “There’s not a day goes by that I don’t miss her.”

  Relief flooded Eugenie’s belly, and she felt immediately guilty. He had lost someone, a woman who was important to him, and she’d responded with jealousy and suspicion.

  Asher merely nodded.

  A moment or two later, he rose, his face inscrutable. “That was a good meal, Eva, and a good break for the horses, but if we’re to make Dallas by nightfall, I should tend the team.” He slipped from the room, and Rafe and John followed. Ware kissed his mother on the cheek, then scrambled after them.

  Eugenie watched the men go, her shoulders and chest growing tight in response to Asher’s obvious pain.

  Solemn and quiet, Eva cleared the table, covering the food with linen. Eugenie watched for something she could do, then followed Eva’s lead, wiping out the plates and placing them in the dry sink. After a few minutes of activity, Eva gestured to the cabin door.

  “Would you like to sit outside and watch the men? If we pull the chairs into the sun, we’ll be warm enough.”

  “Shouldn’t I do something to help?”

  “No, leave them be. Besides, they’d just refuse your offer anyway.”

  Agreeing, Eugenie followed Eva to the porch, pulling her chair into the sunlight as Eva did hers.

  As the two women watched, the men together checked each joint, each rigging, each strap, and each wheel.

  “He’s a careful man,” Eugenie said, more to herself than Eva.

  “You have to be in these parts.”

  Asher, seeing the women, paused to study Eugenie for a moment, then nodded and smiled. Eugenie felt the tension in her back release.

  “Well, well. Asher Graham smiling,” Eva exclaimed. “That’s something I didn’t expect to see.”

  “Is that unusual?” Eugenie thought of all the smiles he’d given her over the last fortnight.

  “Has been for some time now. Since Miss Sadie died. Before that, he was a smiling man.”

  “What was she like?”

  “Sadie? Oh, she was a little thing and sunny. The whole world smiled on Miss Sadie, until the day it didn’t. He was visiting his mother’s people in New Orleans when they met. He was traveling with the Rangers then, and he wrote her letters from all over Texas for more than a year before she agreed to come to Dallas and marry him.”

  Eugenie wondered what a letter from Asher would be like. Would his wry wit transfer to the page? Or would he spend all his time describing the weather? No, much as she enjoyed the quiet, thorough way Asher’s mind worked during their conversations, she couldn’t imagine he would be very interesting as a letter writer. Even so, she wanted one, and she was jealous of Sadie for having gotten them for a year.

  “What happened to them? The letters, I mean.”

  “I saw them once; she’d collected them all in a big book. But I fear he burned them.”

  “Is that where he got the scar—on the back of his hand?”

  “Oh, no, that’s from a prairie fire. In the summer, it gets so hot and dry that almost anything can start a fire. And once it’s started, it can burn half the county . . . or more.”

  “Like what?” Eugenie wondered how in all their conversations prairie fire had never come up.

  “Ashes from a camp left smoldering, or even those newfangled matches Mr. Peak sells at his general store in Dallas. I had a box of them catch fire all by themselves last year.”

  Eva paused, clearly considering her next words. “He stayed here after she died, you know. Up there.” She pointed to an opening in the porch ceiling. “That leads to a bit of attic we use for sleeping or storing goods. He refused to stay at their cabin, and though I offered him a room here, he refused that too. Said he couldn’t escape her ghost in the rooms they’d lived in together.”

  Eva turned silent, and Eugenie waited, wanting to hear everything Eva might tell her.

  “He turned his back to the wall, and we thought he’d die of grief. Ware would crawl up and stay with him, but by summer my Ben had to roust him out of there, or he would have died of the heat.”

  “I didn’t know.” Clearly, Eugenie didn’t know a great deal, and it called into question everything she thought she knew. “May I ask you a question?”

  “You may ask, but I may not answer.”

  “How did she die?”

  “No one knows for certain.” Eva shrugged. “Asher had left her in town while he went to answer another Ranger’s call for help. But she wouldn’t stay; she had too much to do at their cabin. Asher hadn’t been gone a week, when Mrs. Cockrell went out to visit. She found Sadie, sitting in a chair, all peaceful-like, as if she’d just sat down to rest.”

  “How did you let Asher know?”

  “There was no way to tell him. Dallas didn’t have a telegraph, and besides, we didn’t know where our men had gone. But I was in town the day they returned—Asher, Rafe, John, and my Ben, all together.”

  “Your husband was a Ranger as well.”

  “A Ranger never quite stops being a Ranger, but the four of them served together and became best of friends.”

  “I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Eugenie apologized.

  “Sad stories tell themselves at their own pace.” Eva watched the men, almost finished with their inspection. “Asher knew the moment he rode back into town. When the Rangers return home, it always draws a crowd. But this time, no one went out but me and Sheriff Holden. When Asher’s eyes met mine, I couldn’t do nothing but shake my head.”

  “What did he do?”

  “He turned his horse and rode straight to his family cemetery. I’ve not seen him smile since . . . until today.” Eva patted Eugenie’s arm as Asher approached. “I’m grateful to you for
that.”

  Within minutes, Asher and Eugenie were back on the road, this time alone. John had decided to stay with the Paynes for a few days, and Ware, exhausted from their travels, had already fallen sound asleep on the porch bench. His mother had covered him with a patchwork quilt.

  Eugenie felt unexpectedly sad on leaving. The thought that she wouldn’t see Ware or John, or even Eva again, weighed heavy on her heart.

  But that was what she’d expected, wasn’t it? To come to Texas, retrieve her mother, and return home to England. Not to make friends, and certainly not friends she already missed. Her time for adventure was drawing to a close.

  Though Asher had been all smiles when they said good-bye to the Paynes, once they were back on the road, he grew distant. Eugenie let him have his silence, needing to prepare herself for her meeting with Lilly. The two sat in peaceable silence for most of the way to Dallas.

  After an hour or so, Eugenie saw the beginnings of a more concentrated population: the occasional rustic building grew to two or three, and after that, into streets and intersections.

  Soon she would be caring for her invalid mother and trying to determine the best route back to London. But she turned her mind away from that problem.

  For a little while longer, she had Asher at her side. In two short weeks, she’d learned so much, about the land and its peoples, about law and rebellion, animals and, not unexpectedly, weather. But most importantly she’d learned to value Asher, not for his good looks, but for his kindness and honesty. Traits she’d thought she’d not easily find in a man outside her family.

  “Is it far to the St. Nicholas?”

  “Less than a mile.” Asher kept his eyes on his team.

  “When we arrive there . . .” She struggled to find words to explain her relationship with her mother. “I haven’t seen Lilly in almost a decade. Would you accompany me to meet her?”

  Asher’s mouth formed a hard line. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  “We’ve never been . . . close, she and I. Once I went to live with my grandparents, I rarely saw her. She’s always had too little care for her social obligations, and I’ve perhaps had too much. Once every couple of years she would arrive, bearing gifts and toys. And for a few days, a week, sometimes even two, she’d be this delightful, spontaneous presence. And then one day she would simply be gone, often without even a good-bye. It took me a long time to learn not to have expectations.”

  Asher didn’t respond, navigating the increased traffic on the road. The street was well developed with businesses and homes on either side for several blocks before the town square. But she could see it—the St. Nicholas—in the distance, towering over the other shops.

  “So, I’m not quite sure what to expect when I see her again, particularly now that she’s an invalid. It’s all—I must admit—a little overwhelming.”

  Two young boys ran alongside the carriage, then, as Asher stopped to let another carriage pass, ran on ahead down the street, waving. All down the street, people stepped to their doorways and watched them drive past, women waving, men tipping hats. It must have been like this when he had returned to find Sadie dead, she thought, him riding into town with his brothers-at-arms, except then the townspeople, seeing his approach, had disappeared into their houses and shops.

  As they approached the town square, the St. Nicholas, a three-story brick building at the intersection of Commerce and Broadway, came more fully into view. A grand hotel for the plains, the St. Nicholas stood a full story over the rest of the shops and businesses in the center of town. Beyond it, Eugenie could see the Trinity River and the wooden bridge that connected Dallas to the remains of the La Réunion colony.

  Asher pulled the carriage in front of the hotel.

  He turned to her, his face grim, “About your mother . . .”

  At that moment, several young women, their mothers in tow, arrived chattering excitedly. “Do you have them?” the girls asked in almost the same voice.

  Asher turned pleasant. “Yes, ladies, I collected everything you requested.”

  A crowd gathered, men joining their wives and daughters.

  He turned back to her, speaking low. “Do you want to wait or go in now?”

  “I want to wait,” she whispered.

  He began to unrope the luggage, calling out names and handing down trunks and boxes. The crowd—the girls particularly—responded with squeals of laughter and delight.

  She could feel the excitement in the crowd. What could Asher be delivering that mattered so much to so many? She didn’t have long to wonder.

  “Mine next, Mr. Graham. Mine next!” a girl barely old enough to be out of the schoolroom called out.

  Asher opened a large wooden-slatted trunk. Inside, Eugenie could see long paper-wrapped packages.

  “Let’s see. Minnalee Rice. One bolt of . . .”

  “Don’t say the color, Mr. Graham. It’s a surprise.” The girl stepped to the side of the carriage and held out her arms.

  “Then a surprise it will be.” Asher handed down the bolt, and the girl clasped it to her chest and ran away.

  One by one the women and girls stepped forward, excited, as Asher called out their names.

  “I’ve never been so glad to see a coach arrive, except perhaps the one that takes my mother-in-law back to San Antone.” A portly man with twin daughters stepped forward, pulling a hand wagon. “My girls have been staring out the parlor window for more than a week, praying you’d bring their dresses in time.”

  “Happy to be of service, Anselmo.” Asher handed down five boxes as long as his arm. “But why do you have more boxes than daughters?”

  “When the twins couldn’t decide which dresses they wanted, I let them order extra as long as they were all in the same color.”

  “Why the same color?”

  “To keep track of my girls at the ball,” Anselmo said, proud of his strategy.

  The twins looked at each other with mischievous glances, and Eugenie wondered if they had already made plans to trade their dresses for ones in a different color.

  Asher met Eugenie’s eyes. “Anselmo, what are your plans for the extra dresses?”

  “I’ve already got buyers lined up three deep,” Anselmo answered.

  Asher looked an apology to Eugenie, and Anselmo led his girls away, the five packages piled up high in the wagon. Asher continued handing down packages, until only Eugenie’s luggage was left.

  As quickly as it had formed, the crowd dispersed, the townspeople carrying away their deliveries, all still chattering excitedly.

  Asher stood beside Eugenie’s perch, and she descended holding his hand. After two weeks of travel, she still felt a thrill whenever his hand—even gloved—touched hers.

  As Asher lifted her down, Eugenie heard her mother’s voice calling her name. As her feet touched the ground, she was wrapped in her mother’s embrace.

  “Oh, my girl, my darling, darling, girl.” Lilly kissed both Eugenie’s cheeks.

  Eugenie looked over her shoulder, mouthing “help” to Asher. He set her luggage on the hotel porch, then instructed the bellmen where to take it.

  Lilly entwined her arm through Eugenie’s and led her daughter to the hotel entrance. Asher followed the women in.

  Eugenie tried to take everything in: the names of the bellmen, the manager at the registration desk, and the craftsmen still employed by the hotel. As they passed the giant central staircase, Lilly waved directions toward the room already set aside for her daughter.

  Eugenie wanted nothing more than to wash her face and hands and change into a dress less travel weary, but Lilly barely paused before leading Eugenie into a private drawing room near the back of the hotel lobby. Asher slipped in before the door closed.

  “Mrs. Cockrell, you must meet my Eugenie.” Her mother’s voice slid gracefully over the syllables. “Mr. Graham has fulfilled his promise. And here she is, safe and sound.”

  A slight woman with sad gray eyes and dressed in mourning was seated be
fore the fireplace. Asher went to her side and spoke something privately in her ear.

  Mrs. Cockrell nodded, then rose to meet Eugenie and Lilly. She clasped Eugenie’s hands. “The winter has been so unpredictable and cold that we were worried you might be delayed. I hope the weather didn’t give you much trouble.”

  In an instant, Eugenie remembered the storm and the tornado, lying against Asher’s chest, the warmth of his embrace, and the passion of his kisses. “No, no trouble at all.”

  “As we’d hoped, you have arrived in time to attend the St. Nicholas Grand Ball,” Mrs. Cockrell continued. “It’s at the end of the week. Our ladies have been fretting that Asher might not return in time. You must attend, of course. It will give you a chance to see our society at its finest.”

  “Oh yes, dear, you must!” Lilly exclaimed. “I’m certain we can find someone to escort you.” Lilly threw the someone openly at Asher, but he stood immobile, looking out the window.

  Eugenie recoiled inwardly from her mother’s presumption. She had no question that the Dallas ladies would fret if a handsome man like Asher weren’t present at the ball. Yet the thought of it—of him with another woman, even Sadie—roused feelings she found unsettling. Certainly, she’d never cared much if Jeremy or any of her other suitors danced with the other women in attendance; that was expected of all the men. But somehow with Asher, the situation felt different. It wasn’t jealousy, rather a sort of longing tinged with sadness.

  More than anything, she felt a deep sense of loss; their friendship, their affection, their passion (if she could call it that) had clearly been a feature of the road. It had been an interlude away from responsibilities and other relationships. But now that they were in town, other obligations required their attention. And the gossamer web of attraction and connection between them, so strong on the road, had little place in town.

  Her mother would make too much of it, if she knew that Asher had already asked to escort her. And since he hadn’t responded to Lilly’s very obvious hint, Eugenie would not reveal it either. “I’m grateful for the invitation, Mrs. Cockrell, but I have brought nothing suitable to wear to such a grand occasion.”