Carla Kelly (8 page)

“I should have warned you that this is what happens when you fall in love,” Mama said. “Paul is far more resourceful than you're giving him credit for.”

“But he's lost on the plains and starving!” Julia sobbed, which only made Mama laugh harder.

“You are unfeeling,” Julia said, getting up off her knees and trying to leave the room with some dignity.

“Yes, I am,” Mama agreed. With a laugh, she turned back to her knitting. She held up one sleeve. “Is this long enough for Paul, do you think? Of course, if he's frozen to death on the Colorado Plains, probably with the lights of Julesburg in the distance and too exhausted to crawl there, it won't matter, will it?”

Julia frowned, then had the good grace to blush. “Mama, I'm a goose,” she said. She picked up the sleeve and draped it at her shoulder, letting it curve around her elbow until it hung below her fingers, remembering how nice his arms felt around her. “Yes, it's long enough.”

She bullied her father into getting a Christmas tree the next day, even though the best ones were already gone. As he brought it into the house after Mama was in bed that night, Papa confided that for some reason, the tree was still the hardest part of Iris's death at Christmastime.

“I avoided it,” he said simply.

“You wouldn't want to disappoint James, would you?” she asked, steadying the tree in the stand while he tightened the bolts.

“Or you,” he replied.

The tree was decorated before Mama came down to breakfast the next morning, because Julia had stayed awake most of the night, putting on the ornaments and wishing James were there to help. Before she dragged herself upstairs for a short nap after breakfast, she told Papa of the cranberries and popcorn on Exhibits A and B last Christmas, along with Willy Bill's tin can ornaments, and wondered what James would make of this extravagant effort.

“You'll find out soon, Jules,” Papa had said.

When she made her appearance after her nap, rubbing her eyes, her father handed her a telegram. “From Cheyenne. Probably Romeo.”

She opened the message with a flourish and held it out so he could see it too. “Are you ready?
Dearest Darling, look for us on the early train from Ogden tomorrow morning. Stop. Yrs, Paul.
” She sighed. “It seems like years and years.”

“Or yrs and yrs,” Papa joked, which made them both laugh.

Owing to the still-icy streets, Julia told Papa to stay in bed the next morning and keep the Pierce-Arrow from calamity, while she took the streetcar to the train station. She shivered in the early dawn, grateful at least that the snow had stopped. She looked around the depot, her eyes on the magnificent Christmas tree, which reached almost to the rafters in the waiting room.

As eager as she was to see Paul, she felt herself growing anxious as the time passed. For the tiniest moment she doubted and started to finger her scar. She looked over her shoulder at the utility closet where Paul had tugged her two months ago for a blessing and put her hand down. He certainly didn't need to ever know that only two days ago, she was certain he was lying frozen on the Colorado plains.

The train was only thirty minutes late. She hung back a little when the doors opened, shy, until she clasped her mittened hands together and felt the ruby engagement ring, which she had been quite ready to hock, even if he was joking.

Paul was wearing a new Stetson and overcoat, which made her sigh with relief; he wasn't going to freeze to death anytime soon. James was at his side, leaning close, his eyes wide at the sight of all the people waiting on the platform. Paul's hand rested firmly on his head, until James spotted Julia and ran forward.

With a cry of her own, Julia held out her arms to the boy, whirling him around, then holding him close, because Paul had grabbed her too, and James was sandwiched in the middle. James wriggled free when Paul kissed her and kissed her again, after muttering, “Not enough,” and holding her so close that, between his embrace and her corset, she had to gasp for breath.

“I have missed you,” she managed to murmur in his ear, which led to her hat falling off when he kissed her again.

“Did you have any second thoughts, along about Rock Springs?” she asked, out of breath, even a little dizzy.

He smiled that edgy smile that made her heart pound a little faster. “You're teasing me,” he said. “I'll let it go for now, but that's going to get you in a world of trouble after March 17.” He looked around for James. “Well, I'll be…” He pointed.

Knit cap in hand, James stood in front of the tree, his mouth open. Paul let go of her and walked to the tree, squatting down beside the boy.

“What do you think?” he asked.

“I think this didn't come from your land.”

“You'd be right. What do
you
think, Darling?”

She put her hand on Paul's shoulder, grateful to touch him. “I think we'd better get on the streetcar because breakfast is waiting at home.”

The streetcar ride was another epiphany to James, who stood, open-mouthed, by the coin and token drop box and only sat down when Paul gave him his familiar, measuring look. The streetlights and Christmas lights were still on, so they captured his attention next.

“I doubt he's ever seen this many people at one time in his life,” Paul said, his hand in hers, as they watched James’ face. “I know I haven't.” He looked at her. “This fall, have you ever just wished that you could be with me on horseback, riding out of Gun Barrel?”

She couldn't help herself, and his expression changed. “Oh, hey now, Julia, I didn't mean to make you cry. I guess that's a yes.”

She nodded, barely able to speak. “I think of it all the time.”

His arm went around her, and he held her close until their stop. It was just a short walk home, with its welcome Christmas wreath on the front door, a far cry from last year's funeral wreath. Julia tried to see it through James’ eyes: the big house, the wide porch, the stone walkway. She stood still a moment, absorbing the dear sight herself and thinking that it would be different next Christmas on the Double Tipi, and for all her Christmases to follow.

Paul looked at her, a question in his eyes. She leaned against his arm. “It's nothing. I was just thinking how much I love this familiar sight, but how much I'm looking forward to Christmas on the ranch next year.”

“You won't miss this?”

“Of course I will,” she said, after a moment's reflection. “Still, I'd rather be home.”

“No home to speak of yet,” he said, apology evident in his voice.

“You'll be there, won't you?” she asked quietly. “That's home enough for me.”

Breakfast had turned into brunch and was followed by a tour of the house for James, who watched seriously as Julia's father flushed the toilet in the upstairs bathroom, then jumped back at the noise. He was equally impressed with the feather mattress in Iris's room, although the delicate wallpaper didn't meet his expectations.

“I've been learning to read the wallpaper in the bunkhouse,” he told Jed Darling. “Haven't I, Mr. Otto?” He thought a moment. “‘Road agent kills three in botched robbery,’ ” he said. “Or was it two?”

“Two, bub,” Paul said and chuckled, to hide his obvious embarrassment. “We read newspaper headlines before bed, since that's all the bedtime story we have right now. I can't count Doc's dictionary.”

“Impressive,” Papa said.

“‘Madam arrested as town council closes bordello,’ ” James quoted from memory, then frowned. “Mr. Otto wouldn't explain what a bordello is. Do you know?”

Mr. Otto rolled his eyes, and Mama turned away to hide her laughter. “Obviously we are missing your daughter's leavening influence,” he said to her shaking shoulders. “March can't come fast enough.”

“And that's the truth,” Paul said later, sitting in the parlor with his arm around Julia. The house was quiet. Mama had announced after the dishes were done that she and Papa were going to take James downtown on the streetcar to see the mechanized elves and snowmen in the window at ZCMI, and then maybe, if they were lucky, visit Santa Claus.

“Dear Jules, I can hardly keep a straight face when James calls you Mr. Darling,” Mama said. “He calls me that too, now.”

“He just doesn't seem to understand, or maybe hear, the difference,” Julia replied. “I'm so used to it now. I hope he isn't too confused when I become Mrs. Otto!”

“Julia, we trust you to be the perfect hostess while we're downtown,” Papa had said with a straight face. “Treat Paul as you would any old fiancé, Mr. Darling.”

She did, which made her face rosy with whisker burn and her curly hair even more of a tangle. Paul had decided that the chair across from the settee was suddenly more comfortable, and they both laughed.

“Julia, I miss you so much, but that's all this stockman can stand,” he said. He turned serious then. “How are your parents coping? And you?”

“Your letter was a blessing,” she told him. “We all cried and discovered we're pretty good at enduring. Sometimes that's what it comes down to.”

“More than we know, probably.” He leaned back in the chair. “I'm so tired.”

“Sleep, then.” She went to him and touched his face, then covered him with the throw from the settee. He was breathing deep and peacefully before she left the room.

He found her in the kitchen an hour later, pulling a pan of rolls from the Majestic. He rubbed his eyes and stretched. “Darling, you're probably wondering what kind of an old man you're about to hitch your wagon to.”

She pointed to a chair at the table. “Hardly. I can read between the lines in your letters. No wonder you're exhausted. I don't know how you stay in the saddle!”

“Chief is a well-trained horse.” He started to lean back in the chair until she put a crock of butter and a jar of raspberry jam in front of him, followed by a knife and half a dozen rolls. “When I'm not dreaming about you, I'm dreaming about food. Blasted unhealthy, eh?”

Julia sat down to watch him eat. He buttered two rolls and handed her one. “Nice of your folks to leave us alone for a little while.” He ate and then leaned back. “We really do have to talk.”

“What happened in Niobrara County?” she asked, pouring him some milk. “Your letter said ‘More later,’ but there wasn't.”

“I had intended to return to the Double Tipi and write you a lengthy letter, but I got a telegram from a rancher near Ogallala who had found the bulk of my herd. Off we went for a winter cattle drive. No fun.” He sighed. “Sometimes I wonder why I ranch.”

“Because you love it,” she said promptly. “What happened in Niobrara County?”

He tipped his chair down and turned to face her. “I think one of the ranchers near Lusk recognized James, or should I say Thaddeus Pulaski?”

“No! Surely not,” Julia said and reached for Paul's hand.

“I wish I knew for sure.” He held her hand, ran his thumb over the ruby, and smiled faintly. “Nice ring.” He passed his hand in front of his eyes. “I blame myself. I never should have taken James along, but I just didn't think…” He shook his head.

“There's no blame. You probably needed every hand you could get to find cattle. I know how James hates to be left behind.”

“So right.” He sighed. “The deuce of it is, I really don't know if McAtee recognized him.”

“What happened?”

“The usual stuff. Everybody's been really good about sending us telegrams if our cattle are spotted in the vicinity. I got a telegram like that from the sheriff in Lusk, telling me to look around Rawhide Buttes. We were in the saddle the next morning.” He eyed the empty plate in front of him. “Darling, there seems to be a hole in this plate.”

“More likely a hole in you,” she retorted, but got him the rest of the dozen rolls. “Honey?”

“Yes?”

She thumped him, which only earned her a spot on his lap and another close encounter with whisker burn. “You really need to shave,” she said but made no move to get off his lap. He put his arms around her and buttered another roll, slathering this one with honey.

She made herself comfortable on his lap. “Keep going.”

“But you just thumped me. Ow! All right.” He finished a roll and buttered another one. “We found the cattle at Rawhide Buttes, sure enough. We were on McAtee's land, and there he was, watching us. I know him well, and I went to palaver. He said he'd contacted the sheriff, so I thanked him.”

“That seems pretty straightforward,” Julia said, getting off Paul's lap to take the next batch of rolls from the Majestic.

“It was. We spent a moment more just chewing the fat—my word, I wished I'd just said thanks again and ridden away! James rode up beside me.” He pushed away the rest of the rolls, his distress evident to her. “Julia, next thing I know, James is hanging over his saddle, puking and crying. I've never seen him like that. I leaned over to help him, and his eyes were like saucers. He pulled himself up and rode like a scared rabbit back to Matt and the herd.”

“Did Mr. McAtee recognize him?”

“Wish I knew. I watched his face, and his eyes kept getting narrower and narrower. I thought it would be best to just gloss over what had happened, so I said something stupid about the kid getting seasick on a loping nag. Sit down again; you're too far away.”

She did, her arms around his neck.

“McAtee got really quiet, and his eyes just kind of bored into mine. He said he didn't know I had any children.” Paul made a disgusted sound. “I'm not much of a liar. When I assured him that James was mine, he gave me such a look and came this close to calling me a liar.” He shrugged. “He's right; I was. I was lying, and he knew it.”

Julia put her hands on both sides of his face and her forehead against his. “There are worse things than being called a poor liar.”

He kissed her nose. “I know, I know, but it did sting a bit. My reputation may be suffering some.”

Not with me
, Julia thought. She rested her head against his chest, enjoying the sound of his steady heartbeat. “Did you ask James?”

“Yes. He wouldn't say anything, and he kept looking over his shoulder until we were well clear of Rawhide Buttes. I got firm with him that night, when we were all shivering and trying to stay warm in our bedrolls. James still wouldn't say anything. I doubt he ever will, so I doubt McAtee has anything to fear. But McAtee doesn't know that, does he?”