A Frontier Christmas (10 page)

Meagan sat in the living room of the apartment over her dress shop, drinking coffee as she looked out over First Street. Since returning home, she had been gathering up the dresses she intended to take back to Rawhide Buttes tomorrow to help Cora get ready for Christmas.

Normally, Christmas was a happy season. The women who came in to buy dresses for themselves and their daughters were always excited. The town of Chugwater had planned to go all out to celebrate. Christmas of 1890 would be the first Christmas since Wyoming became a state, so there were special celebrations scheduled.

But, in light of what had happened to the mayor's family, the question was, would the celebrations go on? R.W. insisted that they would, and even suggested that it would help him and his wife recover from the terrible tragedy that had struck them. But how, Meagan wondered, could someone recover from that?

She took another swallow of her coffee, enjoying the bracing richness of it, lightened with cream and sweetened with sugar, and thought about Duff. Where was he? Somewhere warm and dry? More important, was he somewhere safe?

She had never met anyone like him. Despite his obvious refinement, no cowboy, miner, or mountain man she had ever known was more masculine. Duff was the first to say that he wasn't lightning fast on the draw, but she had seen him make impossible shots, including one that saved her life. An outlaw had been holding her in front of him with a gun pointed to her head, but had made the mistake of barely peeking around her. Meagan heard the whiz of the bullet in flight, and the sound of it striking flesh. Duff had not given a second thought to taking the shot, nor had she been surprised by it.

He was also a humanitarian. She had seen him perform deeds of great compassion in the relatively short time she had known him. She thought of the words of consolation he had given R.W. and Martha, bringing them comfort with the thought that they had to but think of John and his family, and they would actually be reliving that moment.

However, that same man who could be so commiserative when required had set out in pursuit of the men who had murdered the mayor's family. And when he found them, he would show them little pity. But even that, Meagan realized, was an act of kindness for his friend R. W.

Would she and Duff ever get married, she wondered? She wanted very much for that to happen and hoped that someday it would. But in order for that to happen, he would have to ask her. If he had one failing, it might be that he was unable to discern how deeply she actually felt about him.

She decided then and there if he didn't ask her, she would ask him. The worst that could happen would be that he would turn her down. If he did, it would at least keep her from wasting any more time on a relationship that wasn't going anywhere.

She finished her coffee, then turned away from the window and realized she had drunk coffee just before going to bed. She grimaced. “That's not the smartest thing I've ever done.”

She needn't have worried. She was asleep within ten minutes of pulling up the covers and her head hitting the pillow.

 

 

On his way back to Chugwater, Duff didn't go by road, but by following the south fork of Antelope Creek. It was dark, and it had gotten much colder.

“Sky, lad, we have been in for some cold rides lately, haven't we?” Duff said, leaning down to pat his horse on its neck. Ahead of him, appearing as if it were an apparition in the gathering gloom, he saw someone coming toward him.

Duff smiled when he recognized him. “Sky, 'tis none other than Elmer Gleason. But what is he doing out here on such a cold night as this?”

He asked his foreman that same question as the two riders closed on each other.

“I knew you'd follow the creek back, seein' as it's shorter than the road, and I thought you might appreciate some hot coffee on a night like this,” Elmer said.

“Och, 'tis a good lad ye be, Elmer, 'n I'll fight any man who says otherwise.”

Elmer opened a canvas bag, then began pulling out folds of wool until he reached a bottle, which was wrapped round with burlap. He handed the bottle to Duff, who pulled the cork and was rewarded with a curl of aromatic vapor. Holding it under his nose, he could feel the warmth of it.

“Elmer, 'tis a genius ye are. A pure and unadulterated genius.” He took a swallow of the coffee, then smiled again as he tasted something that was welcome and familiar. “And would that be a bit o' Mackinlay's that you've added for flavoring?”

“You tell me, Duff. Is there any finer scotch than Mackinlay's?”

“None indeed,” Duff replied, taking another swallow.

“Do you plan to share any of that? Or will you be drinkin' it all like the cheap Scotsman you are?” Elmer asked.

“Have a good long pull at it,” Duff said, passing the bottle back to Elmer.

Elmer turned the bottle up, drank from it, then handed it back. “We'd best be gettin' on unless you want to stay out here 'n freeze to death.”

“Aye, being warm in m' own house 'tis something I've been looking forward to for the whole day.”

 

 

Upon their arrival at Sky Meadow, a couple of Duff's cowboys came out to meet them. Woodward took hold of Sky, and MacDougal grabbed Elmer's horse.

“You two go on inside and get warm,” Woodward said. “We'll take care of your mounts.”

“'Tis much obliged I am to ye, Mr. Woodward,” Duff said. “I wonder if it's too much to hope for that the Mrs. Sterling has supper ready.”

Woodward smiled. “She cooked a big haunch of beef today. Me 'n the others have done et some of it, and I can tell you, it's damn good.”

“Elmer, would ye be joining me for supper, lad?”

“I'd be mighty pleased to do so,” Elmer said as they walked to the house.

“Mr. MacCallister, it is good to have you home, sir,” his cook said. The house was redolent with the aroma of roasted beef.

“Believe me, Mrs. Sterling, it is good to be home.”

 

 

Unaware that Duff had returned home the night before, Meagan left for Rawhide Buttes the next morning. It was her second trip from Chugwater in as many weeks. By stagecoach, it took just over five hours, but because she was one of only three passengers, the trip was more comfortable than it would have been had the coach been full. She sat next to the window in the rear seat, warmly wrapped in a blanket supplied by the coach company.

She looked out as the coach rolled into town. G
ROCERIES AND PROVISIONS
, advertised a sign on the first building the coach passed. Next came a hotel, a saloon, an apothecary, another saloon, a leather goods store, and another saloon. The next thing she saw gave her a start. It was a gallows. An announcement was nailed to a post.

“Duff got them,” she whispered.

“I beg your pardon, dear?” asked the other woman in the coach.

Meagan shook her head. “Nothing. I was just thinking aloud, is all.”

The coach stopped at the stagecoach depot.

“Here we are, folks, all safe and sound!” the driver called as he climbed down and opened the door. “Miss Parker, you sure do have a lot of luggage. You want it all delivered to the hotel?”

“No, just this bag.” She pointed to one of the four items of luggage she'd brought with her. “Take the other three to Ensor's Dress Emporium,” she instructed, pressing a dollar into his hand. “It's four buildings down, just on the other side of the Rawhide Buttes Bank.”

“Yes, ma'am. I'll see that it gets there,” the driver replied with a broad smile as he folded the bill and stuck it in his pocket.

It was cold outside without the blanket, but as she had pointed out to the driver, the store was only a short walk from the depot. It wasn't terribly freezing, but she was happy to arrive.

“Oh, do come in out of the cold!” Cora Ensor greeted when Meagan stepped inside a few minutes later. “Did you have a hard trip?”

“No, the ride was smooth, and I was wrapped in a blanket, so it wasn't too bad.”

“I can't tell you how much I appreciate you coming all the way up here to help me get my store started.”

Meagan took off her coat and hat and hung both of them on a coatrack. “I'm glad to be here. The way I look at it, we are scratching each other's backs. I can make dresses faster than I can sell them down in Chugwater. Your store gives me another outlet.”

“And with Christmas coming, I'm sure there will a lot of men wanting to buy something nice for their wives,” Cora added.

“And their girlfriends.”

“And their girlfriends?” Cora asked. Then she laughed. “Oh, you mean the unmarried men who have girlfriends. For a moment, I thought you meant that some married men might be buying something for their wives and their girlfriends.”

“Yes, them, too.”

“What? Why, that would be awful!”

Meagan chuckled. “You're just starting your business, Cora. You don't have the luxury of being judgmental. If a man wants to buy a dress for his wife
and
his girlfriend, your job is to sell both dresses to him . . . and keep his secret.”

Cora laughed as well. “My, and miss the opportunity for gossip?”

“You have to make up your mind, which do you most want to be? A successful businesswoman, or a gossip?”

“My lips are sealed,” Cora said.

“Cora, I predict you will be a wonderful businesswoman.”

“I would be very happy if I could be only half as successful as you have been, Meagan.”

“I'm sure you will be. Did you get the ad placed in the newspaper?”

“Yes, here it is.” Cora picked up a copy of the paper from a countertop.

“Oh, that's very nice,” Meagan said. “But you didn't have to use my name.”

“You don't mind that I did, do you?”

“No, not at all. I'm flattered.”

 

 

Meagan and Cora were unpacking the last of the packages Meagan had brought from Chugwater when the bell on the door jangled. Looking toward the front, they saw a woman and a young girl come into the store.

“Mrs. Hastings,” Cora said, smiling at the customer. “How nice to see you.”

“I wanted to see how you were coming along with your store. I think it's just wonderful the new things you'll be getting in, just in time for Christmas.”

“Yes, I'm hoping I'll do a lot of business in the next few days as people shop for Christmas.”

“I'm going to be in the school Christmas play,” the little girl said. She coughed.

“That's wonderful,” Meagan said.

The little girl coughed again.

“Yes, Laura is going to be an angel,” Mrs. Hastings said. “If she isn't too sick, that is. She wasn't feeling too well last night, and she woke up with a terrible cough this morning. She's also been wheezing as she breathes. I don't know what's wrong with her.”

“You must get better, Laura,” Cora said. “I certainly wouldn't want you to miss being in the play.”

“The reason I'm here,” Mrs. Hastings said, “is that I want to buy an angel's costume for Laura. I know it's almost too late for that but—”

“It isn't too late at all,” Meagan said. “I would be happy to make one for her.”

When it was obvious that Mrs. Hastings had no idea who Meagan was, Cora introduced her. “This is Meagan Parker. She is a dressmaker who has her own shop in Chugwater. She has made most of the dresses I'll be featuring in my shop.”

“Oh, how wonderful,” Mrs. Hastings said. “Isn't that wonderful, Laura?”

“Yes, ma'am. Mama, my throat hurts.”

“Then we need to get you back home. It looks like a storm is coming, and I don't think it will do you good to be out in it, what with a cold coming on.”