A Log Cabin Christmas (41 page)

Christmas Week

A
s Clay Ramsey trotted up to the farm on Pappy Hanks’s horse, Molly approached her brother.

“Ye know what ye need to do.” Jamie shaved smooth the wooden donkey’s back. He’d sat on the stump whittling and watching when Luis came to call every day for the past week. Jamie wouldn’t allow him to visit Molly in the cabin, so the couple strolled about the clearing in the chilly afternoons.

“It pains me not to be at peace with ye, Jamie,” Molly said.

Her brother shook off the fragrant cedar shavings and looked directly at her. She saw a glint in his eyes. “Ye be worth more than a piece of land. Clay be a good man; he could give ye a good life.”

She gazed steadily back, tears blurring to match her brother’s. “What did ye feel when ye looked at Sarah? When ye look at Eliza now? I don’t feel that way about Clay. But when I see Luis, when I talk with him, my heart be fluttering.”

“Marriage be not built on fluttering.”

“No? On need then? Luis needs me as much as Clay.”

Jamie frowned. “How so? He’s got a fancy house and horses. If it be horses ye want, Clay can provide. Look, he be coming on a horse.”

“It not be about horses.”

“Do the right thing,” he said.

Scrubbed and beaming, Clay dismounted and tied the reins to the fence. “I borrowed the reverend’s pony so I could get here faster. I’ve come for your answer.”

Jamie scowled. “Don’t ye want to take her for a walk and whisper sweet words?”

“Nay. This be a business arrangement, though with a gal as pretty as ye, Molly, I know it will grow to love right quick.” He peered at the ground, bashful almost. “Lily always thought mighty fine of ye.”

“Thank ye. Lily’s love for ye speaks well of your character, Clay. I know ye be a hard worker and good father.”

Now Jamie scowled at her. “This not be about Lily.”

“No, it be about my heart. I be sorry, Clay, but when I see ye and your little’uns I think of Lily. It be not fair to ye or to them for me to join your family with my heart divided.”

“Molly, don’t be a fool,” Jamie said.

Clay straightened his shoulders and met her eye. “Our hearts be sad, but what can we do? My little’uns need a ma. Can ye think on them? I may not be a handsome man, but I would work hard for ye and any children of your own.”

She yearned to erase Clay’s disappointment and to appease her brother’s anger, but Molly knew marrying Clay wasn’t the answer.

“Carvajal be twisting her mind, filling her head with ideas about a fancy house and horses,” Jamie said.

Clay’s eyes narrowed. “I knew about Eli Parker sparking for Molly, but what be this about the Mexican?”

“He’s been here courting the last week,” Jamie said.

“Ye would wed a Tejano?” The horror in Clay’s voice pricked her conscience. “Be he a believer?”

Molly nodded. “Aye. He’s known Pappy Hanks since he was a little’un. I been thinking about what God wants me to do.”

Clay’s shoulders slumped, and he rubbed his eyes. “What will I do? If ye don’t wed Carvajal, will ye consider me? I got time; there be not many women I would wed if not ye.”

“Thank ye kindly, Clay. I be sorry, but no.” Molly took Andy by the hand and walked down to the stream without looking back.

Luis rode up to the dogtrot later that day while the woods rang with the fury of Jamie’s two-sided axe. She ran to meet him.

“Did you see Ramsey?”

“Aye.”

“Well?”

Molly felt guilty as she thought of Lily’s motherless children. She sighed. “He be patient.”

Luis dismounted. “What does that mean? What did you tell him?”

“It be not good to enter a marriage if I think of the first wife whenever I see the husband.”

“True. What do you think of when you see me?”

Heat swept through her body. Standing close to Luis made her legs shaky.

He grinned. “Or should I be encouraged you won’t look at me?”

She didn’t dare look at him.

He lowered his voice to a caress. “I know your tender heart. What did you tell him?”

“I told him no.”

He stepped closer. “Good. Then will you marry me?”

Molly tried to swallow her smile. “I still be thinking. We come from very different ways of living.”

“It’s only now you realize I’m Tejano and you’re Anglo?”

“Nay. But I didn’t realize ye were rich when I—” She paused, flustered.

He leaned toward her. “When you fell in love with me?”

Molly gasped. Luis laughed and drew her hands to his lips, where he settled a gentle kiss. “It didn’t stop me from falling in love with you.”

The sky may have been overcast, but the day Manuel and Maria took their possessions and left for Nacogdoches was a bright one for Luis. They’d stay in town for the winter and move to Manuel’s ranchero in the spring. Luis would finish training the mustangs and then hand over a mare and a colt to pay off his lazy brother-in-law.

He didn’t approve of giving the horses to Manuel, but reading the Bible influenced his decision. He could let Manuel go, forgiven.

“You have become an Anglo,” Manuel growled when Luis and Mamacita announced their plans to stay at the Carvajal ranchero during the posada.

“Someone has to mind the property. Enjoy the fiestas.” Luis helped his sister onto her mare. One of the ranch hands drove a cart with their luggage.

“Why will you not come with us, Mamacita?” Maria asked.

She touched her heart. “Having my son for the natividad blesses me more than anything. I will stay with Luis now and come to you at the New Year. I will be there for your baby’s arrival.”

Manuel crossed his arms over his chest. “It also means Mamacita can be a
dueña
for Luis and that Anglo girl.”

“Her name is Molly. It does not hurt to have a chaperone.”

Manuel snickered as he climbed onto his horse.
“Feliz navidad. Vaya
, Maria. Let’s go.”

Mamacita fluttered her handkerchief after them while Luis retrieved Maximo.

He rode through the thinning winter brush until he came to the Faires clearing. A line of smoke rose from the chimney, but he heard the chunk of an ax farther south. Luis nudged the stallion in Jamie’s direction.

The young man’s buckskin jacket lay on the ground beside a growing pile of kindling and small logs. He grunted at Luis and continued chopping at a dead loblolly pine. Luis dismounted and tied Maximo to a nearby sapling. A damp fog slid along the ground, and he hoped this would not take long.

Jamie pointedly ignored him. When it became clear he would not take a break, Luis tossed his cloak onto Maximo’s saddle and began piling wood. They worked together through three stacks of logs before Jamie stopped to catch his breath.

“I would speak with you, Jamie.”

“There be nothing ye can say to me, Carvajal. I’d give ye back the land if I had another option.”

Luis wiped his arm along his sweating forehead. “I have been reading the Bible. Tomás suggested I study a passage in the book of Romans.”

Jamie’s eyebrows came together and he looked uncertain. “When did ye see Pappy Hanks?”

“Several weeks ago”—Luis paused—“about a personal matter. He told me about a passage that says ‘if it be possible, as much as lieth in you, live peaceably with all men.’ “

“That be right.” Jamie kicked at a pile of sawdust, stirring up the pine scent.

“I made peace with my brother-in-law. He now has left my ranchero, and I believe my sister will be happier.”

Jamie looked up. “Why do ye tell me this?”

“Because I do not like the man my sister married, but she loves him. I could continue to make her miserable, or I could do whatever was in my power to live at peace with him. He did not deserve my forgiveness, but I gave it anyway.”

Jamie reached for his ax and examined the blade. In the silence they heard the tapping of a woodpecker.

Luis cleared his throat. “I love Molly and want to make her my wife. But she loves you and Andy. Without your blessing, she will not marry me. What do I need to do?”

The young man’s shoulders sagged. “Tell me. What made ye change your mind? Why did ye really decide not to fight me for the land?”

Luis paused, trying to think of how to explain. He was a vaquero, strong and confident, but the answer was simple. He shrugged. “It is the right thing to do.”

Jamie jerked back as if bitten. He blinked rapidly and swung the ax into the stump so hard it shuddered. Luis did not move. Jamie stared at the stump a long time, long enough for the frigid December air to prickle Luis’s fingers.

Luis tugged his cloak around his shoulders and untied his horse. “I ask you, please, to tell me what I can do. This has nothing to do with who owns the land. I love Molly and would do anything for her.”

Jamie stared into the forest. Luis climbed into the saddle. “Good day.”

“Wait, Luis. I understand now.” Jamie blinked rapidly. “I loved a good woman who always steered me right about Molly. I can give ye my blessing.”

“Qué? What?” Luis pulled the reins taut.

Jamie reached up to shake Luis’s hand. “Come to dinner on Christmas Eve.”

“The final night of the posada?”

“Aye. Bring Ana with ye.”

Luis gripped his hand. “Gracias, mi
amigo.”

As Luis turned Maximo toward his ranchero, Jamie called after him, “And bring a change of clothing. Pappy Hanks likes to perform weddings on Christmas Day.”

Luis looked back over his shoulder and grinned.

The rich smell of roasting turkey filled the small cabin as Molly turned the spit. She wore her old apron over her new blue Christmas dress and hummed “Joy to the World.” Andy held open the door while his father carried out her straw mattress. They needed more room in the cabin to fit everyone around the table.

Everyone
, Molly sighed in satisfaction. Jamie had kissed her forehead when he’d told her Luis and Mamacita would join them for dinner. “Sarah always wanted ye to be happy,” he explained. “If Carvajal be who ye want, then letting ye go to him is the right thing to do.”

“Do ye mean that, Jamie?”

“Aye,” he’d replied. “It be the right thing to do.”

The dried flowers had been stowed away and replaced by fresh pine boughs dotted with red berries. She had covered the small table with woven reed placemats and set precious china bowls in the center—four bowls her grandmother had carried all the way from Scotland. They had five forks and spoons—one for each diner. The candles, which Molly had made herself, stood upright on a flat stone, melted into place. She put finishing touches on the room with pride. The rough rock fireplace, peeled log walls, and sitting stumps could not compare with the Carvajal’s sala, but she and Jamie had made the home themselves, and they were thankful.

They heard singing as dusk settled. Molly, Jamie, and Andy opened the door when Luis knocked. Luis had written out their lines, and at his request for a posada room, Jamie played the traditional part of the innkeeper and turned them away.

Andy sobbed. “Luis!”

The adults laughed, and Jamie reopened the door. “Come in, pilgrims.”

He took Mamacita and Andy with him across the breezeway to set their cloaks and baggage in the other cabin. Luis loomed tall in the cook cabin, and Molly’s heart leaped. His dark eyes gleamed, and she gazed back with pleasure.

He handed her a basket. “Tamales.”

“Do we eat them with the turkey?”

“Why not?”

They nestled around the table, knees to knees, said grace, and ate their meal, a mixture of Anglo and Tejano tradition. Andy’s face squinted at the hot chiles. Mamacita tasted the dried apple relish carefully and pronounced it
muy bien
. Jamie and Luis ate with gusto while Molly picked nervously at her tamale.

After dinner, Jamie handed Luis the Bible to read the posada story of Mary and Joseph looking for a place to stay. Luis read clearly and with emotion, transfixing them all. When he finished, he placed the Bible back on the shelf. Jamie reached into a basket at his feet and pulled out the pieces of a whittled nativity scene: Mary, Joseph, sheep, wise men, and several donkeys. Andy’s mouth fell open, and his eyes grew wide. He reached for the figures, and they all laughed when Mamacita presented him with the tiny niño whittled from a pecan shell.