Merry Wild West Christmas

by Wanda Ann Thomas

  She paused from humming Handel’s “Hallelujah Chorus.” Thank goodness, she hadn’t burdened her parents with her unfounded worries. “Hot cocoa makes me happy. And sitting here with my two favorite people in the world.”

  Ox’s kind face came to mind. She had been purposely avoiding the stable, and he had been staying clear of the house.

  Which meant what?

  Reindeer droppings. She was more intrigued by Ox than she dared admit.

  An idle mind was the problem. A ranch man with rugged shoulders would be the furthest thing from her thoughts if she was busy preparing for the usual holiday festivities—Christmas caroling, gala parties, tree decorating. The season was barreling down on her, and soon there wouldn’t be time to catch up.

  “Josephine,” Mutter said. “What’s that frown about?”

  “I’m just realizing what a frivolous ninny I am.” Jo sipped from her mug but couldn’t savor the chocolate goodness. Fretting about holiday wreaths and mountains of cookies and colorful glass ornaments in the face of her father’s accident was selfish and childish.

  Papa’s health and recovery was all that mattered.

  Mutter wrinkled her nose. “Not possible. I’ve known a ninny or two, and they are perfectly unaware of their silly state.”

  “I wasn’t going to mention your Uncle Frederick.” Papa winked. “Mutter doesn’t like it when I speak ill of the family.”

  Jo laughed and laughed. The family would scatter whenever Mutter’s older brother began to spout on politics and religion. “You both have a point. I will leave my sin at frivolous.”

  Papa patted the couch. “Come sit with us.”

  “You are antsy to carry on with our traditions.” Mutter set aside her knitting and welcomed her with an embrace. “There’s no sin in that.”

  Papa nodded. “Jasper would be disappointed if we allowed something small like a horse kick to dim our fun.”

  They all stared at the picture on the mantle. Jasper smiled stoically, a song book clutched in his good hand in preparation for caroling night. His rapidly progressing disease had recently forced him to give up crutches for the rolling chair, but Jasp wouldn’t hear of canceling the annual event. He sang the loudest as they worked their way to all their neighbors’ doors.

  “We must have our annual holiday party.” Papa scratched the cat’s ears. “Isn’t that right, Pip?”

  The cat stretched lazily, then on a burst of energy raced across Jo’s lap and pounced on the blue ball of yarn.

  “You rascal, give my yarn back,” Mutter scolded, prying the ball free from sharp claws.

  Pip jumped to the floor and prowled away, indignant.

  Papa chuckled. “I will enjoy the party even if Mr. Pip doesn’t.” His laughter gave way to a coughing bout.

  Torn between the promise to Jasper and Papa’s well-being, Jo patted his back. “A small quiet Christmas will be a nice change.”

  Mutter picked up her knitting and the needles clicked together. “We will cut back on wreaths and garland. And only one tree this year.”

  Papa’s eyes brightened. “The tallest, plumpest one you can buy, Sugarplum.”

  “I’d be surprised if any of the merchants sell Christmas trees.” Her entire neighborhood back in Ohio would be undergoing a festive transformation, whereas sleepy Aurora grew quieter and more desolate under winter’s impending grip.

  But the solution was already in hand.

  “Mr. Haven and I have an agreement.”

  Her parents looked at her askance.

  “No, not a marriage agreement.” Though, if she ever changed her mind about marrying, kind, handsome Ox would be the man for her. Her cheeks heated like a candle-lit Christmas tree at the direction of her thoughts. “We made a bargain…I would leave the stable work to Mr. Haven and in exchange he would lend a hand with cutting trees and such.”

  “A very shrewd deal, indeed.” Papa wore a wide smile. “Where was Ox’s win in that bargain?”

  A good question. One she hadn’t considered. “He is already doing too much. It would be selfish to ask even more.”

  “Does he have any brothers equally big and strong?” Mutter asked.

  So what if he had a hundred brothers? The truth was Jo longed to spend more time with Ox. “That is an excellent idea, Mutter.”

  “Most excellent,” Papa agreed.

  Ox had been avoiding her as much as she had been avoiding him. This was just the solution to ease the tension. Clear the air.

  The sooner she approached him and released him from their bargain the better.

  Holy night!

  Why was her heart fluttering at the prospect of seeking Ox out?

  Ten

  Ox piled his fork, knife, and napkin on a gravy-stained plate and pushed back his chair. “Colt and I will wash dishes, and you two can take an evening stroll.”

  His brother and sister-in-law were generously allowing him to bunk down in a spare bed for his extended stay in town and feeding him all his meals. The least he could do was to entertain his four-year-old nephew and allow Boone and Maggie some private quiet time.

  Boone, a reformed gunslinger turned sheriff, and Maggie, who once went by the name Margaret Lily, Female Bounty Hunter, and was now the schoolteacher at the one-room schoolhouse, certainly could use a break after another busy day.

  Six-month-old baby Charity was asleep for the night, but bright-eyed Colt jumped down from his chair. “Can I give Uncle Ox his surprise first?”

  “I can see I have to say yes, or you might burst from anticipation,” Maggie said, smiling indulgently.

  The boy turned eager eyes on his father. “Please.”

  Boone, whose steely stare gave outlaws second thoughts, had a heart of butter when it came to his son. “Remember, Uncle Ox can say no to the gift.”

  “Love you, Mama and Daddy.” Colt’s voice couldn’t have been more angelic. “I’ll be right back, Uncle Ox.” Then he raced out the door to the back shed.

  His denim shirt feeling two sizes too small, Ox rolled his shoulders. The heaviness in his chest had to do with his conversation with Mr. Hopkins two nights earlier. Any time he had caught sight of Jo, he was torn between wanting to study her for signs of ill health and avoiding her for fear his eyes would betray the worry and agitation knotting his gut.

  Maggie reached across the table and patted his balled hand. “We hate seeing you so sad.”

  He exhaled heavily. “You’ve already done too much, and I have to bother you for another favor.”

  “Please do,” Maggie said.

  “The Haven family sticks together through thick and thin.” Boone’s gentle reminder came with the authority of an older brother in the first generation of second-chance boys. After Pa and Ma’s murder, the older sons were carrying on the good work with a second generation of boys.

  Ox managed a grim laugh. “I know you will say yes, but you’re going to hate every minute.”

  “Try me.” Boone never did take a challenge lying down.

  “I need to surprise Josephine Hopkins with a Christmas caroling outing.”

  Maggie smiled. “How delightful.”

  “Mr. Hopkins can’t carry out the tradition because of his broken ribs.”

  “Carol singing?” Boone blinked and leaned back in his chair. “Me? You’re serious.”

  “I knew you would hate the idea.” Ox, whose singing voice sounded like a bellowing bull, sympathized. “I’ll ask Garrett and Bri instead.” He wasn’t short on brothers and sisters-in-law. He would eventually rustle up enough willing bodies.

  “Havens don’t cut and run,” Boone said. “Where and when is this shindig?”

  Maggie kissed his cheek. “I will reward you with hot buttered rum to loosen your vocal cords.”

  Ox scooped up his dirty plate and escaped to the sink. “Mr. and Mrs. Hopkins are good folks.”

  “Josephine is a lovely young woman.” Maggie’s statement was closer to an interrogation than a description.

  “We are
just friends,” Ox stammered. “Don’t get the wrong idea.”

  “Of course,” Maggie agreed too readily.

  The door opened and Colt rushed to Ox while holding a squirming yellow puppy. “Here’s the surprise.”

  Ox rescued the puppy from Colt’s weak hold. The puppy rewarded him with sloppy kisses. “Hello, friendly girl.”

  “What are you going to name her?” Colt’s glowing smile would outshine a jar of lightning bugs.

  Boone joined them and tousled the boy’s hair. “Son, remember we said Ox has to agree to take the puppy.”

  “Do you want her? Do you?”

  Sweet puppy-breath tickled Ox’s nose. He’d always meant to get a dog for his ranch. “She’s the best present I could ask for.”

  “Hooray!” Colt scratched the yellow belly. “We didn’t want you to be lonely without Chief.”

  How could he explain to the boy that his horse was irreplaceable? Ox nuzzled the puppy. “That was right thoughtful. She will be good company.”

  Boone squeezed Ox’s shoulder. “I’ll do the dishes, so you and the dog can get acquainted.”

  A fellow couldn’t ask for finer family. “I will sit out on the porch with her for a spell.”

  “Can I go too?” Colt asked.

  A few moments later they sat on the front steps and chuckled at the yellow ball of fur chasing his tail. “Naming a dog or horse is serious business,” Ox said.

  A broad-brimmed cowboy hat shading his face from the sun sitting low in the sky, Colt propped his arms on his spread knees in imitation of Ox. “How about Lucy?”

  “That doesn’t have the right ring.” Ox had mooned over a saloon hall girl by the name of Lucy who had come through town a few years back. “I was thinking more along the lines of Goldie Girl.”

  “Nah, Jimmy Bell has a dog named Goldie and he drools everywhere.”

  “Jimmy drools?” Ox teased.

  Colt belly laughed. “Nooo…his dog.”

  “What a charming puppy,” a feminine voice called.

  Ox’s pulse jolted as Jo walked toward him looking dazzling as a winter sunset in her red fur-trimmed coat. “She’s a gift from my nephew Colt here.”

  “We’re thinking up names.” Colt patted the empty spot beside him. “Do you wanna help?”

  He wouldn’t blame Jo if she didn’t want anything to do with him after the way he’d been avoiding her. He didn’t like keeping secrets from her, but he couldn’t come out and say so, now could he?

  It almost made him long for the solitude of his ranch.

  Almost.

  She squeezed onto the step next to Colt and grinned in delight as the puppy yipped a greeting. “Hello, cutie. With your pretty citrine coat, I would name you Gem or Crystal.”

  “It’s kinda girly.” Ox would be teased mercilessly at the hands of other cowboys and ranchers.

  “You should see your face.” Laughter lit her eyes. “What about something Christmassy…in honor of the season. Noel or Holly.”

  A fireball of energy, Colt tapped the toes of his cowboy boots and toyed with the fringe on his suede jacket. “Still too girlie.”

  Jo scooped up the puppy and laughed as the dog washed her face in kisses. “Do my lips taste of sugar cookies, cutie? Mutter made a new batch and I couldn’t resist trying one.”

  “Call her Sugar Cookie.” Colt touched noses with the puppy. “And we could call you Cookie or Sugar.”

  Jo beamed at the pair. “What a sweet name.”

  Without a doubt Ox would forever think of Josephine Hopkins upon catching a hint of the enticing sweet vanilla smell of sugar cookies. “That settles it. Sugar Cookie it is.”

  The door opened behind them. “Son, it’s time to get ready for bed,” Boone said.

  “Can I play with Sugar some more?” his nephew pleaded.

  Boone hitched his thumb over his shoulder. “Not unless you want to miss out on mama reading the last two chapters of our book.”

  “Goodnight, everyone,” Colt called, bolting inside.

  “The Nutcracker and The Mouse King,” Boone explained and winked. “Don’t tell Maggie, but I’m kind of curious to hear out the story.”

  A few years ago Ox would have fallen over in shock at the idea of his gunfighter brother showing interest in books, never mind fairy tales. He recovered his wits enough to introduce Jo and his brother before Boone retreated inside.

  Jo smiled as the puppy curled up on her lap and closed her eyes. “Your nephew is adorable and now I must re-read the story. Do you have a favorite book?”

  Nothing stirred in town, not even the usually constant wind. She wasn’t flexing her hands or massaging them in pain. That was good. “Pa and Ma weren’t ones for storybooks. Ma read to us every night from the Bible, and Pa had some military histories and a stack of dog-eared Farmers’ Almanacs.”

  “I miss reading to Jasper.” She started to sigh, then put on a smile. “But that’s not why I set out to find you.”

  “Shoot, I hope nothing is wrong?”

  She stared down at the puppy. “I think you will like what I have to say. It wasn’t fair to make you promise to cut down a Christmas tree and greens for wreaths. My parents wanted me to ask if you have a brother or friend they could hire?”

  He puffed out his chest. “A promise is a promise.”

  Her chin edged up. “I thought you’d be happy.”

  He shot to his feet lest he do something stupid like kiss her. “You thought wrong.”

  “There’s no need to sound angry.” She stood, and hugging the puppy, narrowed her eyes at him.

  Shoot! What was wrong with him? For a start, he’d never met a more frustrating and fascinating gal. “I’m sorry. When would you like the greens and tree?”

  “I doubt I’m the first to accuse you of being stubborn as an ox.”

  “My brothers might have mentioned it a time or two.”

  “Would tomorrow or the day after be too soon? I’m eager to start on the wreaths, and Papa wants the biggest tree that can fit in the house.”

  “I’ll head out with my ax and saw after morning chores. Would you ask your father for the loan of his work sleigh?”

  “I’m relieved that you will be using a sleigh, as I’m not much of a horse woman.”

  His smile slid off his face. “You’re not saying what I think you’re saying?”

  “Goodbye, Sugar Cookie.” She kissed the puppy and gently placed the ball of fur in his arms. “See you in the morning, Ox.” Then she glided down the road merrily humming the sleighing song “Over the River and Through the Woods.”

  Chagrined, Ox pulled his stare away from Jo to the puppy. “Sugar, I have never looked forward to Christmas as much as this year. Then life will get back to normal.”

  But first he would have to survive a day in the woods with Jo where thoughts of kissing her would surely play through his mind.

  Eleven

  Several hours later, Ox took a seat at his usual corner table at the Rawhide Saloon. Most of the cowboys, miners, and ranchers had holed up for the winter. Choo Choo the piano player was away for the month. Slim the bartender and two saloon girls chatted away the boring hours. Two bachelor cowboys were bellied up to the bar.

  Ox didn’t join them as he had company with him tonight. His brother Garrett, a shy bronc buster and rancher, and Garrett’s feisty Swedish wife Brigetta.

  The pair owned the mountain ranch next to Ox’s place, but they were also the proprietors of a bakery here in Aurora. Bri, as the family called her, was here to make the acquaintance of the dance hall girls. Her secret pastry recipes drew in customers like bears to a honey hive. She made it a practice to hire girls wishing to leave behind the life of a saloon-hall girl, then trained them to run the bakery. Many had gone on to open their own restaurant or bakery.

  Before Garrett married Bri, he and Ox had been tight as could be.

  The oldest of the next generation of second-chance boys, they had struck out together to start their own ranches. Those were t
he days, building the one-room cabins they were so proud of. Garrett purchasing the region’s first Herefords that were now the staple of the Wyoming ranching business. The first few roundups as official ranchers.

  Life moved on. Ox couldn’t be happier for Garrett and Bri, but he also missed the old times.

  The couple now spent their winters in Aurora, and Ox kept an eye on both ranches. This winter, family had stepped in to help until Ox was free to return home. The first words out of Garrett’s mouth were an assurance that Levi and Juan had the work well in hand.

  Ox signaled the bartender Slim to send over a sudsy beer for him and Garrett. “Miss Bri, what will you have?”

  “I would love a hot toddy, but Doc Craig advises warm water with lemon. Uff da, you would think I am ill instead of in the family way.” Her face glowed.

  Ox gave Garrett’s arm a friendly punch. “How’s the daddy-to-be?”

  Garrett’s chest expanded with pride. “I finished the cradle.”

  “He is getting to be almost as good a woodworker as a bronc buster,” Bri said.

  Humble to the bone, Garrett shied from the compliment. “I’m thinking of giving up the horse-breaking business for furniture making.”

  “Ja, when horses moo and cows neigh.” Love for her cowboy husband filled her voice.

  Garrett rubbed her back and turned his attention back to Ox. “How’s it going over at Hopkins Stables?”

  “Mr. Hopkins is growing stronger.” Ox debated whether to ask the pair to join him and Jo tomorrow on the tree-cutting expedition. Bri needed her rest after the long journey to town. That left the other favor. He rolled his shoulders. Asking them to join the Christmas caroling party without them jumping to the wrong conclusion was going to be as tricky as releasing a skunk from a trap without getting sprayed.

  The new saloon girl named Trixie, or maybe it was Trina, sidled up to the table with the beers and lemon water. “Evening, folks. Can I get you some chili or stew?” Her bodice pressed against Ox’s arm as she emptied the tray.

  “Nothing for me, ma’am,” he replied, straightening against the chair back to escape the heavy perfume invading his nostrils.

  Bri’s smile couldn’t be friendlier. “You must be Trudy. My manager Dolly speaks highly of you.”