Authors: Jodi Thomas,Linda Broday,Phyliss Miranda
A Texas Christmas (4 page)
Chapter 6
Sam had no idea what to do with Maggie. He’d only had one houseguest, and he’d ended up married to her. In the months Danni was with him she’d never said more than a few sentences to him. He didn’t think he’d have that problem with Maggie.
He dipped her up a bowl of stew. When they sat down at the table he began eating in silence as always, but she cleared her throat.
He looked up at her. “Do you need something?”
She smiled. “Thank you for the meal.”
He didn’t think it was necessary, but he said, “You’re welcome.”
“You have a beautiful place here.”
“Thank you.” He stopped eating and waited for her to pick up her spoon.
“Did you build it yourself?”
“No.” He thought maybe she was asking questions while she waited for her stew to cool, so he played along. “When I was twelve I went with my grandfather to take horses down to Fort Worth. He left me for over a year with a man who bred some of the finest horses I’d ever seen. That next summer when my grandfather came back to get me, the man paid me for the year’s work in stock. They were the culls of his herd, but they were still the best horses I’d ever seen. I brought five mares and a stallion back with me.”
“I’m surprised your parents let your grandfather take you away like that.”
“My folks died before I had time to remember them, and Gran raised me like a free-range chicken. I remember once when I was five, I decided to stay out until he came looking for me. After two nights and nothing to eat but a few apples, I was so hungry I went home. I don’t think he’d even noticed I’d been missing. Had the same feeling when I came back from Fort Worth.
“Gran took one look at the horses and told me I could have the canyon land he owned because it wasn’t fit for farming. I was fifteen when I started this place. We built it together over three winters. I’d work for him all summer farming and raising grain, then he’d come over a few days a week all winter and tell me how to construct a house that would stand the winds. He thought I was crazy when I wanted to build the roof high and the doors wide. It took me all one winter to put the rock on the front, but it turned out like I hoped. From the road no one could make out my house from the wall of rock behind it. It’s invisible, kind of like I was, growing up.”
“I’ll look forward to seeing it in the daylight.” She finally lifted her spoon.
They were almost finished when he said, “I’ll bunk in with Web. I do anyway when he’s sick or wakes up in the night. You can have my room.”
“I hate to put you out.”
“No trouble,” he lied. He loved his room, or rather the view of the canyon at dawn. Tomorrow she’d wake to that view, and the thought of it made him smile. Even though he’d been married, Danni had never slept in his bed. She’d come to him, then slip away as soon as he was finished. At first he thought she cared for him, but finally he’d decided she’d only wanted a child. As soon as she knew she was pregnant, she told him and never came to his bed again. He’d watched her growing and wanted to touch the place where his child grew, but she never came close.
Maggie stood and picked up his bowl. “You cooked. I’ll do the dishes.”
He watched her as she moved about his kitchen, washing up, then exploring. She was as different from Danni as night from day. He cared for Danni, protected her, tried to stay out of her way because he knew she couldn’t stand to be too near, but Maggie was an equal—no, correction, she was so far his better he wasn’t sure how to act. It never occurred to her that he might not want her to explore his world.
“You’ve a well-stocked kitchen, Samuel,” she announced.
“I have a root cellar and a smokehouse out back.” Sam felt a sense of pride. Before his grandfather died, he harped on the importance of being self-sufficient. By the time Sam was twenty he either grew all he needed or traded for it among his kin. Once his grandfather was gone, Sam worked from March to September on his ranch and the small plot of land that his grandfather called the farm. As his herd grew, so did barns and shelters in each pasture. From October through February he guarded his land and saw to his horses.
By the time his son was born, Sam was twenty-four and considered himself settled. He could afford to stay home more to take care of Webster for a few years and allow his herd to grow. It meant less farming and an occasional trip into town, but Sam thought the time with his son was well spent. Nina was the only person alive who knew of the baby. She came by to help out in the summer, trading watching the baby for stores of food. In the winter she traded her time for whiskey. She was dependable, but rarely said more than a few words to him.
Sam stood and faced Maggie. “I’ll get my things out of my room and move your bags in.”
She started to say something but stopped when he raised his hand. “It’s decided.”
And as simple as that, Maggie Allison moved in with Sam Thompson. He had a feeling if anyone in town knew it, they’d be the scandal of the year.
Chapter 7
Maggie woke at dawn. For a moment she couldn’t remember where she was. Sun flooded a room bare of anything but a bed, a small trunk, and several hooks on the wall to serve as a wardrobe. The room was sterile, impersonal, cold; then she looked out at the sun rising over the canyon wall. The light turned the rocks into breathtaking colors. Rocks spread out in layers of earth colored like Spanish skirts dancing a thousand feet from sky to riverbed.
She crawled from the bed and wrapped a blanket around her shoulders. Maggie was drawn to the beauty of nature as she’d never been to any of the great paintings she’d seen in museums painted by masters.
When she turned, she saw Sam standing in the archway to her bedroom with his son on his arm.
“It’s so beautiful,” she whispered.
“That it is,” he answered, but he was looking at her. “I love seeing your hair like that, so wild and grand. I remember when I was six I used to stare at it when I thought you weren’t looking. I memorized that color. No other woman I’ve ever seen has that exact color.”
She touched her hair. “I should have braided it last night, but I was too tired. I’m afraid it does tend to go wild.”
“No. Don’t tie it up today. Leave it down.” He moved a few steps into the room. “Maggie, no one will see it but me, and I like seeing it down.”
For the past year she’d felt so old. All she’d done was work and worry about what to do with her life. Most days she felt like she was trapped in a never-ending cycle of work. She worried when she couldn’t sleep that she’d grow old without anything changing but the seasons. Like her parents, she’d fade year by year, until when she finally died, only a few would notice.
“I’ll wear it down,” she said. “But I’ll tie it out of my face.”
Reaching for her brush, she looked back at the archway and discovered he was gone. Quickly, she dropped the blanket and slipped into her robe. She was buttoning it when Webster toddled into the room carrying a long, thin strand of leather.
Maggie knelt down and accepted his gift. “Thank you,” she said as the little boy smiled and ran back to his father.
Looking out the doorway, she saw Sam below, leaning over his workbench. Webster was bumping his way down the stairs on his bottom one step at a time.
“Sam, there are no doors.”
He looked up. “I saw no use for them.”
“But I need to change my clothes. Will you promise to stay down there?”
“I will.”
She ran back to her bags and dressed as quickly as she could, then ran back to the landing. “Sam. There are no mirrors.” He opened his mouth, but before he could form words, she shouted down, “I know, you have no use for them.”
“Right.” He grinned.
Maggie walked back into what was now her bedroom. Her things were scattered across the floor. Evidently the man saw no use for chairs, tables, dressers, or wardrobes either.
Tying back her hair as best she could without a mirror, Maggie slipped into her boots and stormed down the stairs.
Sam didn’t look up from his work, but Webster, who was sitting beneath the table playing with the scraps of leather, smiled at her. She noticed the legs of the table were connected by wide slats so that if Webster wanted out he would have to pass by his father’s long legs. She also noticed that the hearth was built high so he couldn’t have reached any fire within. Anywhere in this house would be safe for a toddler, except the stairs, and Sam had taught his son how to go down them.
“Does he go with you everywhere?”
“If I’m on my land he does.” Sam watched her as if trying to guess what she was thinking. “It’s cold and the snow is threatening, but if you like, you could walk with us through our morning chores before we fix breakfast.”
“All right. Maybe I can even help.”
“Maybe,” he said as he lifted Webster up.
By the time she got back down with her coat and gloves, the two of them were dressed for the cold. Sam carried the little boy out and headed to the barn. Maggie hurried to keep up.
Once he’d closed them inside the barn, he sat Webster in a swing made from a high chair with the legs removed. While Sam worked, he’d pass by the chair and give it a shove. The boy would fly across the barn laughing as he swung out of any danger from the horses.
Maggie laughed. “You’re a genius, Samuel.” He didn’t look her direction, but she had a feeling he was smiling.
While Sam milked the cow, Maggie tried to play with the little boy, but she’d been around so few children, she felt awkward.
“Can he talk?” she asked Sam as Web walked around her picking up straw.
“Sure. He talks all the time. I’m not sure what language it is, but he talks.”
“Maybe he’s just shy around strangers,” she said as the boy handed her a handful of straw.
“Don’t know if he’s ever met one,” Sam answered. “You’re his first. He’s probably trying to figure out what kind of animal you are. He knows most of the names.”
She knelt to the boy’s level. “Hello, Webster, I’m Maggie. Ma . . . ma . . . Maggie.”
He didn’t say a word.
“It’s time to go back,” Sam said as he walked toward them. “Web, take her hand and bring her to the house.”
To Maggie’s surprise, the boy reached for her hand and pulled her along behind his father. “He understood,” she whispered.
“He understands more than he can say. He also knows he’d better stay up when I tell him to. I don’t have time to go running around looking for him. If he’s big enough to walk, he’s big enough to keep up.”
She smiled. Sam sounded so tough, but she noticed his steps were far slower now than they had been when he’d been carrying the boy.
She helped cook breakfast and Web sat on his father’s knee while she removed the pot from the extra chair. They didn’t talk much while they ate, but she caught Sam staring at her. Never one to ignore anything, Maggie commented, “You’re making me nervous staring at me.”
“I guess I’m not much more used to strangers than Web is. I mean you no disrespect.”
“I know. Even though I see people all day long, I rarely spend more than a few minutes with them.” She looked down at her empty plate. “It’s so nice to sit down at a meal with someone.”
He stood and sat Web near a stack of wooden boxes, then poured her another cup of coffee.
Maggie couldn’t look up at him. She found herself fighting back tears. A lifetime of eating alone, of knowing it would never change, all bubbled up inside her. Even now, she hadn’t been invited to stay; she’d been forced on him.
When she glanced up, she caught him rolling his shoulder as if in pain. “I forgot to check the wound.”
“It’s fine. Just aches a little.”
“Let me check.”
He shook his head. “I’ve got work to do. It’ll keep until later. Don’t worry about it.”
She started to argue but guessed a stubborn streak ran deep in this man. She tried compromise. “When you get back we check the wound. Promise.”
He gave in with a low voice. “Promise.”
“It’s almost like we’re an old married couple,” she whispered. “I’ve always wondered what it would be like eating all your meals across from someone day after day.”
He shrugged. “Why don’t we pretend to be just that for the week you’re here? No one is around. No one will know. You’d still have your room at night, but during the day, we could take on the roles. You might decide the other side of the fence isn’t so green.”
She laughed. “You mean after pretending to be married to you for a week, I might remain an old maid all my life.”
“Something like that.”
Maggie had never heard something so outrageous in her life. People didn’t go around pretending to be married. But if she never found someone, this might be her one chance to see what she was missing. Samuel didn’t seem to talk to anyone. He wore his secrets close, so no one was likely to find out. When she went back to town, she’d simply say she’d been away. No one would pry. No one cared enough.
She leaned toward him as he drank the last of the coffee. “So what are the rules if we play this marrying game?”
He raised an eyebrow and she saw laughter in his dark eyes. He was liking the idea as much as she was. “From dawn to dusk you’re my wife.”
“Fair enough, but I’ll not be bossed around.”
“I already guessed that. We’ll just do what we think we should, and if one of us has an idea what we think the other should do or say, we’ll make a suggestion. Can you cook?”
“I love to cook. As of now, the kitchen is mine.” She whirled around. “What’s off-limits?”
He laughed. “Nothing. If you cook it, I’ll eat it. With the storm coming in, you’ll need to stay close to the house. Once I check the fences, I’ll be working here or in the barn.”
“What’s off-limits between us?” She looked around.
“Nothing. For this week do whatever you want. Treat the place like your home and me like you would a husband. I’ll take Web with me in the morning, but he likes to take a nap on that navy blanket in the other room after lunch. If you’ll watch him then, I’ll try to get everything ready for the storm while he’s asleep.”
“What do I do with him?”
“Talk to him. Hand him stuff to look at. He likes to stay close and think he’s helping out.” He studied her. “Are you sure you want to do this, Maggie? I’m not sure I’ll make much of a pretend husband. Maybe you should back out.”
She stood. “No. I want to do this.”
He moved to the back door and began tying on his chaps. “Web. It’s time to go to the outhouse.”
The boy set his blocks down and hurried to his father. Sam pulled on his coat and folded the boy inside. “We’ll be back in a few minutes.”
With a gust of cold air, he was gone.
Maggie looked around as if making sure she was alone. Then she laughed. This was the wildest thing she’d ever done in her life. They were two grown-ups playing house.
She was still laughing when Sam stomped back in. Testing her limits, she said, “You’re getting snow all over my floor.”
He looked up as if about to challenge her bossy tone, then he grinned. “Sorry. It’s really starting to come down.”
He knelt and pulled a fur coat over Web. The sleeves hung long and the hood almost covered his face. “Tell your mom good-bye, son. We’ve got fences to ride before the snow gets any deeper.”
Web didn’t act like he understood, but Maggie fought back tears.
She knelt and kissed the boy’s cheek. “Are you sure he’s warm enough?”
Sam lifted a cradle board like she’d seen Apache women carry babies in. “He’ll be warm in this, and I’ll make sure the hood’s low.”
Sam strapped the boy in and lifted the pack to his back. Web laughed in excitement.
Maggie looked up at Sam. “I’ll have lunch ready when you get back.” She stood on her toes and kissed the one spot on his cheek not covered in hair.
A moment later he was gone, and for a while she wondered if she hadn’t imagined the game they’d made up to play. It didn’t seem possible that a grown man would suggest such a thing.
She walked through the house looking at everything. The only room she hadn’t been in was Webster’s room. It was small, but like everything else, organized. Books lined a shelf almost out of reach that circled the room. A hundred books, maybe more. Many of the classics and many she’d read in her childhood.
This room also had shelves built within the walls on either side of a crib. These shelves were filled with folded clothes and a few toys. A cot stretched in front of the crib, the blankets neatly folded at one end.
As she moved from room to room, one thought nagged at her mind. Nothing remained to show that a woman had ever lived here. If Sam didn’t have Web to prove that he’d been married, she might have thought he was lying.
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