The Gift Of Family: Merry Christmas, Cowboy. Linda Ford
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“Pa, where did he go?”
Pa yawned and stretched. “Said it was a good time to check on the horses. He’ll be back when he’s done.” He went to his room and closed the door. He’d sleep maybe an hour before returning to the store. If a customer came, Becca would wake him.
Suddenly she was alone. Would Colt take all afternoon to complete his chores? She wanted to ask him some questions.
After she finished cleaning the kitchen and doing some chores of her own, he stomped into the store. A few seconds later he stood in the doorway.
“Come on in.”
His gaze darted about the room. “Where’s your pa?”
“Resting.” She tilted her head toward the closed door.
Colt began to back away.
“Don’t go. Sit and visit awhile.”
He swallowed loudly.
She thought he would turn tail and run, but he slowly crossed the threshold.
She sat in one of the big chairs and waved him toward the other, but he slowly circled the room and came to a stop in front of Ma’s picture. “Is your ma back east?”
“No. She died two years ago.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know, or I wouldn’t have mentioned it.”
“There’s no way you could know without asking.”
He nodded. “You ever been east?”
“Once. When I was fifteen. Ma had been sick quite some time, and Pa sent her to Toronto to see a doctor.”
“Did you like it there?”
She thought of the strangeness of the city...the dirt, the noise and the way people rushed about. “Not really.”
“So why are you going back?”
“My mother asked for my promise as she lay dying. The least I could do was agree.”
He turned toward her, his eyes watchful. “The least? Why do you say that?”
“Because it was my fault she didn’t get better.” The words she’d never confessed to another soul fell from her lips.
The way he raised his eyebrows requested an explanation.
“I was unhappy in Toronto. I missed Pa. I missed the open prairies and the sight of the mountains. I asked Ma to let me go home. She agreed and we returned, but she wasn’t better. She never got better.”
“I see.”
The way he said it made her curious. How could he possibly know what it was like? “What do you see?”
“You blame yourself for her dying, though it seems to me if you believe what the Bible says, you have to believe it’s God’s doing.”
The words jolted through her with the power of a flash flood, upending roots of guilt and regret. “If I hadn’t been such a crybaby, she would have stayed and gotten better.”
“You know that for a fact?”
“Certainly.” She faltered. “I always thought so.”
“Maybe you thought wrong.”
She stared at him, not really seeing him. Rather, seeing the accusations she’d flung at herself. Had they been unfounded? No one had ever said Ma should stay and get more treatment. No one had ever suggested she might get better if she stayed in Toronto. Had she blamed herself needlessly? How could Colt have seen it so quickly? Yet she wasn’t sure she believed it. If only she hadn’t cried to return home.
Time to change the subject before she was forced to examine her opinions more closely.
“Tell me about your parents.”
He jolted as if shot and turned away, staring at Ma’s picture. “Ain’t nothing to tell.”
“How can that be?” Had they been so cold and uncaring he didn’t allow himself to mention them?
“I don’t know who they are. Never met them.”
“Never?” Shock rattled her thoughts. “Colt, how dreadful.”
He shrugged and turned away. “It’s neither here nor there.”
“But—” Of course it was. No wonder he carried a wounded look.
“How long do you think the kids will sleep?”
She understood what he didn’t say. As far as he was concerned, the subject was closed. But she ached for him and wished she could say something to comfort him, although words could not adequately convey her sympathy any more than they could erase the pain of not knowing who his parents were. She wanted to ask who had raised him. Had he known happiness as a child? But she sensed he wouldn’t welcome any probing.
“I really can’t say.” If the kids slept an hour or better, it would give her a chance to question Colt further. Perhaps he guessed at her curiosity, for he crossed the room.
“I’ll check the stove in the store.” The door closed behind him.
She sighed, suspecting an equally solid door had closed in his mind. He clearly did not want to talk about his parents. She sensed the depth of his pain and wished she could help him.
A little while later, Marie stood in the door, Little Joe at her side.
“We’re awake.” She glanced around the room. “Where’s Colt?”
Little Joe, seeing his friend missing, opened his mouth and let out a wail that threatened to lift the roof from the building.
“He’s in the store.” Becca pointed, knowing they likely couldn’t hear her.
Marie headed that direction, a yowling Little Joe in her grasp.
The door swung open and Colt stepped in. He swept Little Joe into his arms and let the boy burrow his head against his shoulder. The crying ended in a couple of relieved sobs.
How on earth did he expect her to pry these children from him and take them to the fort when they wouldn’t let him out of their sight for a moment?
But she had a few days over Christmas and intended to use it to give these kids a chance to adjust to the truth: their parents were dead, but there were still people who would care for them and love them.
Pa stepped from his room, stretching and yawning. He shook the kettle. “Anyone care for tea?”
“Me, me,” Little Joe crowed.
Becca would put her few days to the best use possible. She pulled cookies out of the pantry and made tea, weakening the children’s with canned milk.
Pa downed his before it had a chance to cool, and grabbed a couple of cookies. “Might have customers show up.” He headed for the store.
When Colt shoved his chair back, the sound reverberated through Becca like thunder.
“I’ll go see if your pa needs help. I heard him say something about shelves.” He headed for the door.
Little Joe scrambled after him.
Colt stopped and squatted to the boy’s level. “You stay here with Marie. I’ll be right there.” He pointed toward the door.
Marie joined them and took Little Joe’s hand. “I’ll look after him.” Her voice trembled.
Becca guessed Marie hated to let Colt out of her sight as much as her brother did, but intended to be brave for Little Joe’s sake.
Colt straightened slowly, his gaze finding a place on the floor to study. Then he lifted his eyes to Becca, and she saw regret and resignation. He clearly understood the children’s fear. And no doubt knew better than