Cowboy Christmas (A Henley Christmas Novella) (Down Under Cowboy series) (3 page)

“I’m sure it will.”  I pat her leg.  “I know it’s hard, but try not to stress over it, okay.”

“I know, that’s what Jeremy says.”

“Good things come to those who wait…and all that,” I laugh.

“So, do you guys have any names picked yet?”  She asks.

“Nothing set in stone.  We really must get our butts into gear though, otherwise this baby will be known as Nameless Henley.”

I reach down and turn the dial up a little on the stereo, and we listen as George Strait sings to us for the hour drive to Darwin.

Pulling into the shopping centre car park, I sigh.  “Damn, it’s really packed.”

I slowly drive around, searching for a park, until one becomes available.

“There!” Ava points.

I quickly move my finger and flick the indicator, then I swing the car into the park.  “Thank god!  I was beginning to think we’d never get a park.”

“Let’s go see Santa.”  Ava claps her hands together, so Olive does the same.  Oscar and I laugh at them.  Standing from the car, I open the back door and reach in to get Olive from her seat.  Oscar and Ava exit from the other side of the car, and with Olive in my arms, and Oscar holding Ava’s hand, we walk inside.

The shopping centre is packed.  People are bumping into each other as they walk through the forecourt with no regard to anyone else.  The noise is overbearing as every
one tries to talk over one another.  I grip Olive close on my hip and turn my body sideways to stop her being barged into as we make our way to centre court where Santa is located. 

He comes into view.
His display is fenced off by a pretty white picket fence and he’s surrounded by a throng of children – some screaming in excitement, other screaming in fear.  A photographer and her assistant stand before him, cajoling the distressed child he’s holding on his lap.

“Was this a bad idea?” I mutter loudly to Ava.

She smiles and rolls her eyes in reply.

A mother walks in and takes her relieved child from Santa’s lap.  The kid stops screaming immediately, and burrows into his mother’s neck, clutching on for dear life with his legs and arms.  She rubs his back soothingly and walks away making way for the next family to take their place.

Ava and I stand in line and slowly inch forward for the next forty five minutes, until
finally
it is our turn.

Oscar runs up the red carpet to where Santa is sitting on an elaborate sleigh-style chair.  Ava, Olive and I follow him.  Off to his left, is a plastic reindeer and to his right is a giant red sack filled with treats for the children.  On the ground around him, is snow – fake obviously, but I still shake my head. 
Nowhere
in Australia, would you find snow at Christmas time!  Yet, here is the jolly fat man himself, surrounded by the stuff.  Really, he should have a display with red dirt on the floor and a beating hot sun painted in the background.  Now
that
would be a true depiction of an Aussie Christmas, I think with a smile.

“Santa,” Oscar shouts.  He climbs onto his lap and tugs on his fake beard, causing the elastic to snap back against Santa’s chin.  He chuckles, good-naturedly, and Ava chastises Oscar, embarrassed.

Oscar proceeds to tell Santa all he’d like for Christmas.  It isn’t much, but he tells it in great detail, so it takes some time.

“I’d like a Thomas torch – the one that talks and has the flashing lights.  I’d also like the same thing, but in Percy.  That can be for my cousin Olive.  O-L-I-V-E.  I’d also like another die-cast Thomas train – I don’t have Mac yet and I would really like him for my collection.
”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Santa chuckles.  “Have you been a good boy, young man?”

“Yes!” Oscar nods, enthusiastically.

“I bet you have,” Santa smiles at him.

“Oh,” Oscar’s eyes widen as he remembers something.  He leans over and whispers in Santa’s ear.

“Well, we’ll have to have a chat with mum and dad about that, but I’ll do the best I can.”

I wonder what he asked for,
my curiosity piques.  He moves off to the side with Ava and I walk closer with Olive. 

“Hello, little girl,” he says in a jolly voice as he takes Olive’s hand and shakes it gently.  She clings to me, scared.

“It’s okay baby.”

“No, mumma, no,” she cries, gripping me tighter.

I peel her off me and sit her down in Santa’s lap.  She bellows, kicking and screaming.  She thrashes on his lap as he tries to calm her; cajoling her with a lollipop.  It works.  Olive takes the lollipop from Santa and begins sucking on it.  I step off to the side and a very efficient looking lady holds a rattle up, shaking it to get Olive’s attention.  She looks up at the noise and that lady presses a button in her palm.  The flash goes off and the camera clicks as she takes pictures of Olive and Santa Claus. 

“Thank you,” I smile, lifting my daughter from his lap.

“Merry Christmas kids.  Ho, ho, ho,” he chants.

We walk away from the display and decide to do some window shopping while we’re here.  Oscar spots a model train display set up in the middle of the shopping centre and he drags us all over to inspect it.

After about an hour, we give up trying to battle the crowds and cut our losses.  It’s too hard to browse the window displays peacefully when people are being rude and pushy.

“Ugh! I just want to stop people and grab them by the shoulders and tell them to calm their farms! Just because you’re in a hurry, doesn’t mean you have to be rude.”  I fume to Ava as we walk back to the car.

Ava giggles.  “You sound just like Jackson. 
Calm ya farm
,” she mimics my husband’s favourite saying.

It brings a smile to my face.  He’s definitely rubbing off on me.

~*~

After dropping off Ava and Oscar at their house, Olive and I go back to ours.  The sun is beating down and I really don’t want to get out of the car to walk the short distance inside.  I suck it up though, and take Olive from her seat.  I only make it a few steps
before I see a glimmer on the ground.  My heart skips a beat as I see the brown snake, sunning himself on my footpath.  I spin around and walk over to Jackson’s Ute.  I open the door, wind the window down half way and then close the door.

“Wait there, baby.  There’s a big bitey out there and mummy needs to take care of it.”

“Ooo, bitey,” Olive says, looking every bit as serious as I’m feeling.

“Yes, darling, now be a good girl and wait here for mummy.”

She turns and sits on the seat and begins playing with the two-way radio.  I glance around and spot a hoe and shovel leaning up against the wall of the shed.  Either will do.  I reach for the hoe and go to walk back to the snake, but I decide to take the shovel as well.  So, with the shovel in one hand and the hoe in the other, I make my way back to the deadly animal that’s made my path its afternoon nap spot.  I know by the deep, rich brown colour of his skin that he’s a King Brown. Deadly.  More deadly than an Eastern Brown –
way
more deadly.  The snake is healthy as well, judging by the thickness of him.  And he’s huge.  He must be at least six and a half feet long. 
At least
.

I position myself about two metre’s away from him.  Spreading my legs so they’re shoulder width apart, I raise the hoe over my head.  I breathe in slowly and release it just as slowly.  My hands are shaking.  I wish I had a shotgun.  I would blow this fucker to pieces.  I breathe in again, and not taking my eyes of the snake, I bring the hoe down over his body. 
Hard.
  I hit him about thirty centimetres from his head and the impact of my shot easily slices him in half.  I spin quickly on my heel and pick up shovel.  Then, I proceed to smack into him until he’s practically unrecognisable. 

I grin.  The snake is ly
ing mutilated on the path, squashed and definitely
dead
, beyond a shadow of a doubt.

I sigh. 
Damn
, now I have to clean the bastard off the cement.  If I leave him out here any longer, he’ll bake in the sun and become a permanent fixture.

“You alright, darling?”  I call out to Olive.

She looks over at me and grins. I take that as a yes, and I grab the hose.  I spray the remnants of reptile into the grass.  At least washing it away will keep the ants away, too.

I sit the hose down and walk over to take Olive from her father’s Ute.  Placing her on the ground, I quickly scan the area for any other dangerous animals.  Seeing none, I grab the hose and place my thumb half over the spout, partially blocking the flow of water.

Olive squeals as the water makes contact with her skin.  Giggling, she jumps up and down in the wet grass, like it’s a puddle.  I hose her down until she’s soaked, then I carry her inside so we can have a cool bath together.

“Daddy!”  I hear Olive screaming out excitedly to her father.

Jackson must be home.

I smile and walk down the hall from where I was cleaning the bathroom.

Jackson is crouched down cuddling Olive.  Her little arms are stretched as wide as they can go and her face is shoved into his chest.

“Hey, baby,”
I say, walking up to them.

“Hey, Ace,” he smiles warmly.  Standing, he picks Olive up and cradles her on his hip.  His other arm goes wide, gesturing for me to walk in.  I wrap my arms around his waist and kiss his neck.

“Missed you,” I murmur.

“Missed you, too darlin’.”  He kisses my forehead and then chuckles as Olive swats him away.

“No,” she snaps.

“Oh, but this is my mummy,” Jackson teases.

“No,
my
mummy,” Olive retorts.

I go up on my toes and smack a loud kiss on Jackson’s cheek.

“My daddy,” I grin at her.

Her eyes go wide and then they narrow in anger.  “NO!” She shouts.  “
My
daddy.”  She grabs Jackson’s cheeks and tries to pull him closer to her.  “My daddy,” she chants and lays wet kisses over his face.

“Aww,” I pout, feigning hurt, but really, it warms my heart.

Still carrying Olive, Jackson walks in and tosses his bag of dirty clothes in the laundry.

“Want some lunch?” I ask.

“Yeah, darlin’, that would be good.”

I set about preparing us some lunch as Olive keeps her father entertained.

“How was the muster?”

“Good.  Bloody hot, though.”

“I bet it was.  Hey, Olive, did you tell daddy you saw Santa yesterday?”

She begins giving Jackson an
exciting recap of visiting Santa yesterday, and I serve lunch.

It’s nice to have him home, even if he was gone for only one night.

Jackson

It’s Saturday and we’re getting ready to go over to Jeremy and Ava’s to set up their lights.  I walk outside with Olive on my hip.  Edie’s coming, she’s just fixing her hair – I messed it up when she came in wearing a sarong with a bikini underneath.  Luckily, Olive had still be asleep and I’d been able to fuck her on the washing machine.  My dick twitches at the memory and I shake my head.  I just can’t seem to get enough of my woman.

“Ooo, bitey,” Olive says, pointing to the path.

“Where, darlin’?  There’s no bitey’s there.”  I look around, but I can’t see anything except for a stain on the concrete. 

Maybe she saw an ant
.

“Bitey, daddy,” she says, this time more firmly.  Her lips pout out in seriousness and her finger points to the stain.

“Oh, that’s not a bitey, darlin’.  That’s just dirt.”

“Oh, I forgot to tell you,” Edie says as she locks the front door.  “Olive and I got a King Brown yesterday.”  She proceeds to tell me how she mutilated the snake with shovel and hoe.

I shake my head.  “That’s my girl,” I grin, pulling her in to me and kissing her swiftly.  I touch my tongue to her lips, causing her to sigh.

“My daddy!” Olive grabs my face and pulls me away from Edie.  We both laugh.  “Tiss,” Olive demands, before puckering her lips.  I kiss her and hug her tight.  “Daddy loves his baby girl,” I murmur.  “Let’s go to Uncle Jez’s house.”

“Yay! Oscar.” 

~*~

Six hours later and we’ve finished decorating the outside of Jeremy and Ava’s place.  The girls have been inside putting up the tree. 

“At least it’s a bit cooler today, bro,” Jeremy says as we walk inside.

“Yeah, it’s a nice change from the last few days.”  I look up at the sky.  The sun is not far off from setting, but it’s still got bite to it.  The air is muggy though and as I look at the storm clouds rolling in, I know we’re going to be in for one hell of a storm in a few hours.  “Those clouds look like they’ve got some rain in them.”

“Hope so.  It’s been that humid today, I’d be surprised if it doesn’t rain.”

Jeremy walks straight through to the kitchen and grabs us a beer each from the fridge.  He tosses it to me and I walk over to where Edie is sitting.  She’s separating the lights for the tree.  Ava’s on the ground, ass in the air, trying to put together Oscar’s train set that goes around the base of the Christmas tree.