Kiss of The Christmas Wind (6 page)

Carrie Sue assumed Martha had let her secret slip to her husband, but she didn’t comment on her pregnancy. “I’m happy she likes it. She’s a fine girl, Tom. So sweet, polite, and smart. Be proud of her.”

The man beamed again. “We are. It scared years off my life when she got shot. You never think about things like that happening to you.”

No innocent victim of a crime did, she thought, ashamed again of her past that could have had little Lucys in it if Thad hadn’t stepped into her life. “At least she’ll be well soon; that’s a lot to be thankful for.”

“Me and Martha got plenty to be thankful for, more this year than most. Sure is nice to have good neighbors like you and the marshal. Now, tell me what I can do to help out whilst he’s gone.”

She could ask Tom to shovel out the cow’s stall, but she needed work to distract her and she wanted to be alone in case Thad returned home soon. Yet Tom had ridden over and needed to do something for her. “I appreciate the offer, Tom, but my daily chores are few and easy. The only thing I can think of is help with the water trough. It froze too deep last night for me to bust through. I was about to work on it again.”

He was delighted to do a good deed for her. “Just show me your breaker and I’ll get rid of it. That’s hard and heavy work for a female.”

Carrie Sue led him to the barn and handed him the tool which looked similar to a large hammer. They went into the corral. She watched Tom slam it into the hard surface several times, sending chips of ice flying in all directions. He labored until the frozen barrier yielded to his superior strength and efforts. He flipped large hunks to the white ground, then filled it halfway with water from the nearby well.

“It’ll probably freeze again at night, so just pour two buckets of water atop it every morning. That’ll give you enough room to add what the stock needs for a few days. Least we haven’t gotten that blizzard yet, but it’s been threatening to come for a week. Getting colder ever’ day.” Tom glanced around at the lovely valley and cloudy sky as he checked the weather and talked. “Course Wednesday’s snow is soft and pretty. Might be best if the sun don’t come out and warm it. Minute it gets cold, it’ll freeze into ice; that’s what’s dangerous. After you been here a winter or two, you’ll learn the signs and get used to it. What else can I do for you?”

“That’s it. Thank you. Would you like some coffee?”

Tom studied the gloomy sky once more. “I best get back home. Weather’s as sly as a fox this time of year. You stay close to the house. I’ll be over again Sunday or Monday to see if you need anything.”

Carrie Sue expressed her gratitude again. She waved goodbye to her nearest neighbor and watched his departure. She stared at the ominous sky. “Hurry home, my love; this weather doesn’t look good. I don’t want you and Nighthawk stuck somewhere during a violent blizzard.”

She went to the barn, shoveled out the waste-stained straw, then spread fresh straw in the stall. She checked those of the horses and steers, and decided those could wait another few days, as they were not penned up day and night as the milk cow was.

The redhead returned to the house and took a bath. She also scrubbed her flaming tresses, then sat before a hot fire to dry them. While she waited, she devoured the vegetable soup Martha had sent to her. As she brushed her hair and tested its dampness, she talked to the child she was carrying and prayed for her husband, for all of them.

By mid-morning Saturday,
Carrie Sue realized it was going to snow and get colder that night. She had experienced enough winters and learned enough from Kale Rushton to recognize the signs. If they were going to have a tree to decorate, she needed to fetch it today. She had already picked out the one she wanted and it was six feet high and growing on a low hill west of the house.

She bundled up good, saddled her pinto, took an axe and a rope, and headed in that direction. It wasn’t far, so she’d be safe, and the chore wouldn’t take long. She rode to the site and dismounted. It was almost deathly quiet. Not even snow or ice softened to drop to the ground and make noise. She didn’t hear any birds or animals, not even sounds from their stock, or any rushing of water in the stream far away or in rivulets created when the white covering melted. The world around her was white, with splotches of green, especially from pines that towered above the other trees. Even the haze settling closer and closer to the earth didn’t have its bluish cast today. There was a dampness in the air that chilled to the bone. Knowing she needed to hurry back inside before she took sick, she eyed her target.

A smile crossed her face. The tree was perfect. She only wished Thad were there to share the fun task. She chopped into the bark on the trunk, hardened by the weather.

Finally, it fell to the ground. She let out a whoop of joy and success, and heard it echo across the silent landscape. Her pinto’s head jerked upward, his eyes found her, and he neighed as if answering a question. She secured the rope around the trunk and lower branches, then tied it to the pommel. She mounted. They trudged toward the barn, the tree leaving a furrow behind them in the snow.

Carrie Sue unsaddled her pinto, praised him for his assistance, and gave him some sweet-feed. She replaced the axe, took the saw, and dragged the tree to the back porch. After a straight cut was made at the base, she stood it in a bucket of water to prevent drying. Pleased with herself, she cleaned up the mess she’d made and put away the tool.

Later, she boiled water, killed their fattest hen, and plucked its feathers. She wrapped it in a clean cloth and placed it in the cooling cabinet on the back porch until it was time to roast it tomorrow. She baked cornbread for her dressing and put it aside. She looked around and decided there were no more preparations to be made until Sunday, Christmas Eve.

As expected, fresh snow began to fall as she finished her outside chores. The wind carried a frigid edge and urged her to hurry, which she did. Snug inside her home, she remembered there would be no church service tomorrow to attempt to reach. It was not the Sunday for the minister who served four towns to visit them.

“One more day, my love, and no sign of your return.” She caressed the area where her unborn child lived and whispered, “Don’t worry, little one; he’ll make it back soon. I know he will.” Yet, hope was fading fast.

Christmas Eve arrived,
and no Thad Jamison appeared. The hen was baked. The dressing was done. The egg, rice, and raisin pudding was cooked. Jars of canned vegetables stood ready to be warmed when the other food was reheated. Martha’s cake was on a lovely platter. The house smelled wonderful with the mingling of delicious aromas.

Carrie Sue looked at the mantel in the parlor where she had placed small branches of pine and candles to be lit for a romantic setting. She gazed at the tree in one corner. It looked so barren, so beckoning, so lonely. She wanted Thad here to help decorate it, but that could be wishful thinking. Maybe it was best to do it herself tonight, to have it look beautiful when he first glimpsed it. But that would ruin the tradition she wanted to begin of decorating together, as her family had done each Christmas Eve.

Carrie Sue went to a window and stared outside. Snow was still falling, getting thicker on the ground by the hour. She heard wind howling through the valley and in the trees near the house. The conditions allowed very little moonlight to brighten the outdoors, so she couldn’t see far.

She felt lonely, beckoning, and miserable—like the naked tree. Perhaps working on it would lift her spirits. It would certainly occupy her time, hands, and mind. She fetched the decorations.

The redhead took great caution as she mounted the wooden stool to tie the white star to the top branch. She lit a large candle. She dripped pools of soft wax onto forks of the largest branches, then placed one of the tiny candles she’d made there and blew on the area until it set and held. She hung the handmade ornaments with yarn loops, giving prominence to those with their names and dates. She smiled with delight as she suspended the one marked, BABY, 1876. She could hardly wait to point it out to her husband. She draped the colorful lengths of ribbon around the tree. She filled in empty spots with the small red and white pine cones.

Carrie Sue Jamison stepped back to admire her handiwork. She envisioned it with the tiny candles aglow, with only the fire giving other light in the room. She fetched a length of red material and concealed the base and stand. She placed Thad’s gift underneath, and took another look.

“Beautiful,” she murmured. “It’s been so long since I’ve enjoyed a Christmas tree and this holiday. Hurry home, T.J., I don’t want to miss sharing another moment of this special time with you.”

It was nearing midnight, and she was exhausted from all her work and worry today. It was obvious her husband couldn’t make it home tonight; traveling this late and under the harsh conditions outside was hazardous. Thad was too smart to take such risks even to reach her side. All she could do was go to bed, and pray again for him to arrive tomorrow.

Christmas Day was gradually ending.
It was almost five and dark, but no Thad. The outside and inside chores were done. The food was waiting to be warmed and devoured. The tree candles were ready to be lit. Cheery fires glowed in every room for heat and beauty. She was clad in her prettiest dress. Her fiery locks were brushed and hanging free as Thad preferred. Everything was ready to be enjoyed together, but she was alone.

The snow and wind had ceased, but it was cold beyond the house. She knew travel would be difficult, if not almost impossible. It was late. Surely Thad couldn’t make it home tonight, or risk trying. If he was alive and uninjured, that would more than make up for their first Christmas being spoiled. She would wait up until midnight. If he didn’t arrive, she’d put everything away, then hope to celebrate with him tomorrow.

Carrie Sue was dozing in a chair
before the fire when a loud knock at the door awakened her. She glanced at the mantel clock, temporarily sitting on a side table: Twenty minutes to eleven. She went to the door and—without unlocking it—asked, “Who’s there?”

A voice replied, “Mrs. Jamison, I have news about your husband.”

Carrie Sue unlocked the door with quivering fingers and flung it open. Cold air blasted her in the face, but she didn’t mind. She gaped at the man standing there, grinning, snow on his clothes, and his cheeks red.

He laughed merrily as he said, “Part of the good news is that your husband’s home before Christmas is over. Just barely.”

She went into his arms as she squealed, “T.J., thank God!”

Thad hugged her tightly and joyfully. He eagerly responded to the heady kiss she placed on his chapped lips. All else was forgotten for a time. When they shivered from the cold outside and the fiery passions within their bodies had parted, he said, “Let’s get inside; we’re freezing.”

Carrie Sue stepped back for Thad to enter the house, her love-filled gaze glued to him. Her heart sang,
he’s home!
As she started closing the door, she was saying, “I’ve been so wor—”

Thad grasped the edge of the door, halted it, and interrupted. “Aren’t you going to let in your Christmas present?” He grinned.

“My pres—” She halted and stared at the second man whose presence had been blocked from view by her husband’s size and the darkness. He, too, was grinning broadly and absorbing the lovely redhead. “Darby! How?”

Darby Stover grabbed the startled young woman and hugged her. “Mercy, you’re a beautiful sight for these sore eyes. It’s been too long, Sis.”

They embraced as both sets of eyes dampened with emotional moisture. For a time, they held each other in silence and in gratitude. Thad closed the door and observed the event with a happy heart.

Carrie Sue leaned back and asked, “But how? You didn’t escape?”

Thad responded, “Nope, you’re looking at the new Special Agent, D.S. Rogue, who replaced me.”

Her eyes widened even more. She stammered, “You’re f-f-free? You’re out of prison? You’re a . . . lawman?”

At her reaction, Darby chuckled. “Shocked me, too, Sis. Seems they wanted and needed me more out of prison than inside one.”