Christmas Cowboy Kisses. Carol Arens
who have headed back East. There are places like that for sale hereabouts at good prices. Some of them only want the taxes paid.”
“I fear I’m going to have to stay in the area until the snow clears and it’s safe to travel with Joseph. I’d hoped to get farther west in my travels, but if you wouldn’t mind a couple strangers to tend to, we’d surely appreciate staying in the room you mentioned upstairs for the time being. We can pay our own way, for I’ve got a bit of money saved up, plus what I made from the sale of our house.”
His words were welcome ones, though she hadn’t planned on having houseguests. A pair of strong arms to handle the snow shoveling and a willing man to do the chores sounded like manna from heaven this morning.
“I don’t expect you to take me at my word,” Gideon said. “I had my pastor back home write me a letter of introduction and the banker there vouched for me in his note. I didn’t know if I might need some sort of credentials when I found a place to stop. I’ll be glad to show them both to you, Joy, and to whomever you think might be able to verify my word.”
And those papers he spoke of might be faked, she thought cynically, but a long look into the blue eyes that met her own gave her a feeling that they weren’t. He looked like a man of his word. A fellow in search of somewhere to stay until he could find a more permanent place to set down his roots and raise his son.
* * *
Bedtime came at dusk, for Joy had learned to be stingy with the kerosene that fueled the lamps. She curled in the middle of her bed, her thoughts of the man and boy sleeping in the loft enough to warm her. If Gideon took over the chores, she’d have time to spend with his son. Joseph looked to be needing the touch of a woman in his life, and Joy felt a tenderness toward the boy she couldn’t explain.
She awoke at dawn, sliding from the warmth of her quilts to don her dress and wrap a shawl around her shoulders before she made her way to the kitchen. There she found Gideon, busy adding small logs to the fire he’d banked in the stove last evening.
“Good morning,” he said in his low, almost husky voice. “Thought I’d beat you to the punch and have your stove ready to cook on when you got up.”
“I surely appreciate it, Gideon. I’m used to doing everything myself, and though I don’t mean to sound like I’m complaining, I’ll have to admit it will be a pleasure to have some help.”
“I’ll head out to the barn while you fix some breakfast. I heard your grandfather moving around upstairs, so he should be down right shortly. Joseph slept like a log last night and I may have to shake the sheets to get him up when I come in.” As he spoke, he donned his heavy coat, pulled down the knitted hat he wore to cover his ears and the shawl Joy wore outdoors, tucking it around his throat and across his chest beneath his coat.
From the pantry, Joy called out softly, “I’ll have this ready in half an hour or so, and if you’re not in by then, I’ll hold it in the warming oven.”
As Joy prepared breakfast, she looked through the window and caught a glimpse of Gideon shoveling his way to the barn. He moved more quickly this time, tossing fresh snow to either side as he went. The path from last night was still visible, but at least another six inches of snow had fallen.
From upstairs she heard Grandpa’s voice mingling with the youthful tones of Joseph. After a few minutes they made their way down the stairs, the boy holding Grandpa’s arm as if he would keep him erect with his childish strength. Grandpa made a big fuss of him when they arrived in the kitchen, sitting down at the table, Joseph taking the chair next to his.
“This young’un will sure enough come in handy, Joy. He gave me a hand with putting my slippers on and helped me down the stairs.”
Joy smiled, pleased at Grandpa’s welcoming words. Joseph beamed his pleasure as he listened to every syllable passing the old man’s lips. “I like to help when I can,” he said. “My pa says the good Lord expects us to do our best and always lend a helping hand.”
“Your father is a smart man, I’d say,” Joy told him, turning from the stove to smile at him. “He’ll be in shortly for breakfast, probably by the time the biscuits are done.”
“Are we gonna stay here with you?” Joseph asked the old man next to him.
“As long as this weather lasts, I’d say. Your pa will be a big help to Joy. Gettin’ back and forth in the snow is too much for a woman. Joy’s been doing it all along, but if your pa wants to help and ease her load, I’d surely appreciate it.”
The backdoor rattled open and Gideon stepped inside, carrying Joy’s blue-speckled bowl in one hand. He hung his coat and Joy’s shawl on the hook by the door, and then sat to slide from his boots. “Things are looking good out there, Joy,” he said. “I found your pan on top of the chicken coop and gathered the eggs. Fed the chickens first, though, to lure them off their nests. The cow gave me almost a full bucket of milk and I put it in the milk house. Every bit of stock is fed and the barn is warm enough with the heat they put out to keep them all safe and sound.”
“I can’t thank you enough, Gideon,” Joy said sincerely. “Now, get washed up and sit down at the table. I’ll fry up the eggs and we’ll eat.”
* * *
By breakfast time a few days later, the snow was piled up higher than the windows. Finished with his meal, Gideon leaned back in his chair and shot a look at Joy. He was amazed at how quickly they’d settled into a routine, almost like a real family. And now his suggestion would make it feel even more so.
“If you’ve a mind to, we could head out across the meadow after a bit and see to cutting you that tree you’ve got your eye on, ma’am. The wind’s died down some and I think we could make it without any trouble.”
Joy’s heart skipped a beat as she thought of the thrill of decorating the pine she’d marked as her own. “That would be such fun, Gideon. I’d about given up hope of a Christmas tree this year. If you could make that particular dream come true, I’d be most grateful.”
“Can I go, too, Pa?” Joseph wanted to know. His face glowed as he considered the joy of having a real Christmas, tree and all.
“I fear not, Joseph. It’ll be all we can do to make our own way out there, and besides, Grandpa here needs you inside to keep an eye on things while Joy and I are gone.”
“That’s right, sonny.” Grandpa’s words were firm as he backed up Gideon’s stance. “I need somebody to look after me a bit and tote things hither and yon. Maybe you’d like to watch me whittle something to hang on the Christmas tree once your pa drags it into the house.”
“I’d like that, sir,” Joseph said, rising to stand by Grandpa’s chair. “Can I go get your whittling stuff for you?”
He’d apparently watched when Grandpa had wrapped up his knife and the wood he was working with and laid it behind the stove yesterday. Now he waited impatiently for the chance to retrieve it and put Grandpa to work at his task.
Gideon spoke up. “Let’s you and me get going, Joy. I think your grandfather is in good hands, don’t you?”
Joy chuckled as she prepared for the trek across the meadow, bundling up warmly and waiting at the door for Gideon to lead the way.
They made it to the barn quickly, and then Gideon found the bucksaw hanging on the wall. “You ready, ma’am?” he asked with a grin.
“Whenever you are,” Joy said, her heart lifting as she considered the man standing before her. She tilted her face upward and smiled at him. “I’m so glad you’re here, Gideon.”
In a swift movement, he held her shoulders in his hands and bent to her, dropping a quick kiss on her forehead. “So am I,” he said, his voice husky, as if some emotion held him in its grip.
Joy smiled at him again, feeling the residue of warmth he’d left behind on her skin. She felt a blush rise to her cheeks and ducked her head, fussing with her coat buttons