Merry Wild West Christmas Read online

  Ox wasn’t one to ponder on the future or give thought to fate, but even he knew meeting this pretty gal wasn’t no passing storm. Nope. The wallop of a blizzard hitting his ranch couldn’t make more of an impression than Josephine Hopkins.

  Three

  Josephine knew she was chattering nonstop as she escorted the gentle giant of a cowboy to the livery barn but was helpless to stop. She was excited over the prospect of introducing her new acquaintance to her father and of settling the animal in a clean stall. But above that was a buzz of pleasure and energy churning inside that she had never experienced before.

  Ox nodded attentively at her. The longhorn calf worn like a scarf around his neck had immediately charmed her. But finding he had a kind heart impressed her more than his thick neck and muscular arms. Not that his heart-fluttering physical presence was possible to ignore.

  Unlike earlier, men lined the porch of the Rawhide and Wagon Wheel Saloons. The collection of gold miners, farmers, cowboys, and mountain men ogled her like she was the last turkey leg at a barbecue. Worse, this happened every time she walked out her front door.

  She welcomed Ox’s protective shadow.

  “Don’t be too hard on them,” he said, acknowledging the men with a tip of his white cowboy hat. “Unmarried women who are pretty and young are rare as hen’s teeth in Wyoming high country.”

  Embarrassed but pleased by the compliment, she trained her gaze on her red muff. “Why haven’t I seen you around before now?”

  Sadness filled his deep-set hazel-brown eyes. “My ranch keeps me busy.”

  Had he lost someone? That was a pain she understood too well. It was impossible to comfort him without sounding nosy. “Did your wife or children accompany you to town?”

  “I’m a bachelor,” he said, flustered. “Probably always will be.”

  He had to be the sweetest man she’d ever met. “Girls in Cincinnati would swoon over a handsome strong ranch man like you.”

  His apple-round cheeks turned a brighter shade of red. “Remote ranch life can be lonely and difficult. And there’s hardly room for me in my one-room cabin.”

  Sharing close company with Ox didn’t sound like a hardship. She flexed her numb fingers. Marriage wasn’t in her future. “You just haven’t met the right girl.”

  “My brothers keep pestering me to place an advertisement for a mail-order bride.”

  “I keep in touch with quite a few of my Ohio school friends. I’d be happy to play matchmaker.” But the words tasted sour in her mouth as she pictured any of them with Ox.

  He gave her a baffled look. “Why would you do that?”

  “It makes me happy to see other people happy.”

  “I’m perfectly content.” He hefted the calf higher on his beefy shoulders and his stride lengthened. “Everyone trying to cheer me up is plain tiring.”

  She quickened her pace. “I’m sorry for meddling.”

  He halted and his shoulders fell. “Forgive me for snapping your head off. My horse took ill and died.” His voice hitched. “And my family hasn’t given me a moment’s peace since.”

  “They sound like good people.”

  “The best,” Ox agreed.

  The winter wind whipped her coat. “I’m sorry for your loss. What was your horse’s name?”

  “Chief. He wasn’t much to look at, but he was smart as all get out and good company.”

  After Jasper had passed, she’d spent months locked up in her bedroom. “He sounds special.”

  “The eight-year-old bay I’m riding now is a good horse.”

  “But he’s not Chief.”

  Ox looked down and cleared his throat. “This little guy is getting heavy.”

  “You could carry Texas all day without breaking a sweat, but I can take a hint.” She quickened her pace.

  The sliding doors to the stable were closed. The two large Christmas wreaths she planned to hang on the doors would look magnificent against the weathered wood. The blue-lettered open sign remained fixed to the office door. “Papa should be close by and probably working too hard.”

  “Will Hopkins never stopped.”

  The fondness and approval she heard in Ox’s voice made her proud of the uncle she knew only from letters. The most recent ones had been filled with news of the settlers flooding the West, bringing the promise of new opportunities and prosperity. “Mutter and I hoped the work of running the stable would be less taxing on Papa than Melrose Lamp, but Mutter says Papa is incurably industrious.”

  Ox muscled the stable doors apart. “Your daddy worked for Melrose that makes carriage lamps?” He sounded impressed.

  “He started as a rag boy cleaning the lamps and packing them in straw and worked his way up to plant foreman,” she bragged as they entered the gray gloom. Curiosity gleamed in the eyes of the horses residing in the stable boxes lining both sides of the barn.

  “Papa,” she called and led Ox to an empty pen smelling of fresh hay.

  She opened the gate.

  Ox lowered Texas to his feet. “He should be called Lucky. First I rescued him from wolves, then Doc patched him up good, and now he will be living like a king.”

  A chilled hand of dread clamped her neck. Something wasn’t right. “Papa,” she turned in a slow circle. A pitchfork rested at an askew angle on the haystack at the back of the barn, then her eyes made out the outline of a prone body.

  “Papa!” She raced to the back of the barn, her composure shattering like a fragile glass Christmas ornament.

  Four

  After sitting vigil by Papa’s bedside with Mutter through the night, Josephine walked down the stairs with a much lighter heart than when Ox had carried Papa, unconscious, to his bedroom the prior day. The horse kick had broken several ribs, but the blow to his head as he was knocked from the pen could have been fatal. Dr. Dan Craig’s assurance that Papa didn’t appear to have suffered any long-term damage came as a huge relief.

  In the meantime, breakfast must be cooked, then the horses and little Texas must be fed, and the stalls cleaned out. The close confines of the steep back stairway to the kitchen smelled of coffee and something sweet and delicious. “What in the world?” She burst through the door.

  Ox smiled from his seat at the kitchen table and lifted his white china teacup. “The coffee is hot. I wasn’t sure how strong you liked it. The biscuits will be ready in a jiffy.” Though twice as large as the furniture, he looked comfortable enough.

  “You’ve already done too much,” she protested. She didn’t know what she would have done without his help. He had summoned Dr. Craig, then offered to make sure the horses and Texas had plenty of water and feed.

  He beat her to the cook stove and poured steaming black coffee into a clean cup. “I hope your mother doesn’t mind that I sent Doc home with a mug of giddy-up-and-go-juice?”

  Mutter had been as frightened as Jo. To come all the way West, leave family and home behind, and to lose Papa would have been devastating. “Mutter is so grateful, she will cook strudel and spaetzle and bratwurst for Dr. Craig until it is coming out of his ears.”

  Ox reached into the oven and withdrew a pan of golden-brown biscuits. “Bri makes me spaetzle once a month. Who would guess tiny egg noodles could taste so good?”

  Her stomach rolled. Was Bri a girl he was sweet on?

  “I can tell by your face biscuits aren’t your favorite.” He plopped a biscuit on a plate and pushed a jar of jam toward her. “They’re better with something sweet on top.”

  Not about to confess her frown was due to spaetzle-making Bri, she sliced open the biscuit. Steam rose from the doughy middle. “Did this Bri teach you to bake?”

  His rumble of laughter brightened the room. “My sister-in-law treats her kitchen like holy ground and woe to any of her brothers-in-law who dare tread there. My ma taught all her boys to fend for themselves. But that doesn’t stop Bri and Garrett from feeling sorry for me and always inviting me to dinner.”

  “Thank you for reminding me you have a ran
ch of your own to attend to.” He’d already done so much she hated to ask another favor. “Would you be so kind as to walk me through the stable chores. I could ask Papa, but it would upset him. He thinks I’m a princess and shouldn’t put my hand to barn work.”

  Ox offered her a shy look. “I already did the morning chores.”

  “Bless you.” She didn’t know where she would have found the energy to pitch hay, muck out stalls, and fill the water troughs. “After the long night and the fear and worry I am not at my best. I promise not to keep you any longer than it takes for you to make a list of what needs to be done.”

  “I can help as long as need be.” His voice was kindness itself, and his Western drawl was the sweetest.

  She bit into the jam-slathered biscuit and it melted in her mouth. “If you promise to bake these scrumptious biscuits every morning, you are welcome to stay as long as you like.” Reindeer droppings! She was flirting.

  “It would be my pleasure.”

  She yawned to cover her embarrassment. “I swear, lack of sleep has turned my brain soft as gum drops. You have your own ranch to tend to.”

  “My family is watching over it.” Fondness and love shone in his hazel eyes as he spoke of family.

  An ache filled her for her loved ones back in Cincinnati. They would be rallying around her and Mutter. She especially missed Jasper. Her brother had always known just the right thing to say to make her smile. “I miss home.”

  “I’m sorry. Starting over must be rough.”

  “I’m sorry for being a big crybaby.”

  “I’ve known some crybabies and you’re not one.” His elbow nudged hers as he carried the biscuits to the table. “Come fill up on coffee and you can tell me about your family, and I’ll share some hair-raising stories about mine.”

  The gentle touch was surprisingly electric. She sat and Ox poured her a cup of fragrant coffee. “They sound just lovely. When Papa is better, I will invite them to a party.”

  “When you get three or more of us in a room, it’s likely to turn rowdy,” he warned.

  It was impossible to picture big, quiet Ox displaying an ounce of rowdiness. “There’s nothing I like more than a lively party. Everyone always says we host the most festive holiday celebrations. Christmas is my absolute favorite.”

  “I never would have guessed.” He wasn’t playing fair by having such a charming smile. “But all those boxes and advent calendars in your parlor were a dead giveaway.”

  “The attic is stuffed with dozens of more boxes. But with Papa falling ill, Christmas Unpacking Day will have to wait. And doesn’t that sound selfish and immature?”

  “I never heard of Christmas Unpacking Day.”

  “It’s kind of you to show interest.”

  “If it involves mountains of cookies, I’m all for it.”

  The ability to laugh at one’s self was endearing. “We end the day with a feast of roast, potatoes, and brown gravy.” Jasper would always request the meal, and it had become tradition.

  She cleared her constricted throat. “I never asked about Texas. How is the little guy doing in his new home? Does his leg look swollen or feel hot?”

  Ox stared at her in concern for a long moment. “Doc looked in on Texas this morning, changed the bandage, and declared him a champ in the making.”

  She could kiss him for not asking about her seesawing emotions. “Was Dr. Craig surprised to learn I wanted the calf?”

  A resounding crash came from the parlor.

  Her heart about stopped.

  Ox jumped to find the source of the commotion. She rose to follow, but her feet didn’t cooperate.

  Dear Lord, no! The dreaded numbness had moved to her toes and heels. She hobbled through the doorway.

  Ox held the shards of Mutter’s precious pink vase in one hand and lifted Pip by the scruff with the other. “I rescued this guy from the side table before he could jump down and cut a paw. He wanted to claw my eyes out for my trouble.”

  “Bad Kitty,” she scolded blindly.

  “What should I do with the big guy?”

  Her hands shook as she reached out for Papa’s cat. She quickly gripped them together. “I’m jumpy as Pip.”

  “What’s wrong?” she heard Ox say as he released the cat toward the stairway.

  Dear Lord, the disease that had killed Jasper was slowly but surely coming for her.

  Ox herded her toward the kitchen. “You missed dinner last night. Breakfast will fix you up.”

  The numbness in her feet left as quickly as it had come. Thank goodness! She put on a smile. “Yes, breakfast followed by a quick review of the stable chores, then you will be free to go. I promise.”

  She had made a promise to Jasper.

  A promise to live each day to the fullest.

  Five

  Ox cranked the spigot open and stood back. Fresh water sloshed into a long metal trough. Will Hopkins installing plumbing in his barn had been the talk of the town a few years back. The confirmed bachelor liked his conveniences, from a water closet and claw foot tub, to gas lights and running hot water. At least, Josephine wouldn’t have to attend to the tiring job of pumping water for six thirsty horses and one injured calf.

  Humming came from the stall holding Texas as Josephine shoveled manure and hay into a wheelbarrow to the tune of Christmas carols. “Silent Night” ended, and she hummed a song that reminded him of a lullaby. “I never heard that one.”

  She smiled and rested her chin on the hoe. Perspiration dewed her forehead. “‘Away in a Manger.’ It’s a favorite Lutheran hymn.”

  “It sure is pretty.” Aware he was staring at her, he looked down and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “A sheriff down in Cheyenne discovered me in an oxen manger, but I doubt the angels were singing over my makeshift cradle.”

  “You poor thing.”

  Going on like a blathering idiot wasn’t a fault he normally suffered from. “I was a newborn and don’t have no recollection.”

  “And so he called you Ox because of finding you in an oxen manger?”

  “Ma Viola told me it was on account of me being strong and hungry as an ox. Pa Malcolm said they meant to get around to giving me a real name, but Ox stuck.” He shrugged. “That’s what happens when you have a houseful of adopted boys.”

  She brushed at the wisps of hair floating about her face. “The Havens sound like good people.”

  “They were the best.” His folks’ murder still hurt. But that’s not the way Pa and Ma would want to be remembered. “They founded Sweet Creek Ranch and opened their home and hearts to boys in need of a second chance.”

  Texas nudged Jo and she stroked his nose. “So rescuing this little guy from wolves and finding him a home came naturally to you.”

  He hadn’t thought of it that way. But he would use it to his advantage if that’s what it took to convince her to allow him to help around the stable until her father was well enough to work. “Pa and Ma taught us to be good neighbors. My brothers will be happy to watch my ranch a few extra days, so I can lend a hand with the stable.”

  She hiked her chin. “I’m strong enough to do the work.”

  “No offense meant.” He cranked the water spigot closed and searched for an answer that wouldn’t insult her. “Once word of the accident gets out, others will offer help. It’s the pioneer way. Those who ventured into the untamed wilds in wagon trains had only each other to rely on. Neighbors watching over neighbors.”

  What he didn’t say was that the hardships of the journey had winnowed out the weak. The advent of the railroads was bringing a flood of people to the West. They were a different breed—untested and uninitiated in the ways of those who had settled the land before them.

  “You live miles and miles away,” she pointed out.

  He went to the stall holding the horse on loan to him from one of his brothers. “A hundred miles is nothing on a cattle ranch. Chief and I made the trip from Sweet Creek Ranch to Aurora too many times to count, and I thought no more of
it than you would taking a stroll from here to Bailey’s Emporium.”

  “What a darling name…Sweet Creek Ranch. Now I must visit.”

  If a big winter storm hit, he’d have enough trouble getting himself home. Let alone taking a green Easterner. “Summer is the prettiest time to see the ranch. Do you ride? Horseback is the best way to explore.”

  Her eyes lit. “We kept a carriage, but I can learn to ride.”

  Her excitement put him in mind of a bubbling stream. “Carriage horses tend to be tamer than saddle horses.”

  “As Papa found out.” She glanced up at him with eyes drained of joy. “Promise not to tell anyone, but Papa is not an experienced horseman. We stabled out our horse and the livery hitched and unhitched the carriage. After inheriting the stable, Papa studied every horsemanship book he could find. And spent two months at Main Street Livery asking questions and training under the head groomsman.”

  Ox suspected as much. The West was a place to start over. Like his uncle before him, and thousands of others, William Hopkins had come to Wyoming looking to make a new life. “You can trust me. But I have a question for you.”

  She continued to grip the hoe as if it was the only thing keeping her on her feet. “Go on.”

  He moseyed back to Texas’s stall and petted the longhorn’s searching snout. “If two months of training in horsemanship wasn’t enough for your Papa, what makes you think a two-hour lesson is all you need?”

  “Why do I feel like I’ve walked into a trap?”

  “Are you saying you will accept my help?”

  Her smile was trouble. “On one condition.”

  “Who’s walking into the trap now?” he replied cautiously.

  “You will have to sleep in the stable.”

  “I was going to stay with my brother and sister-in-law, but—”

  “No, no.” Her laugh was infectious. “I was only teasing. You can muck stalls and groom horses and haul hay, but you also have to help me trim the house for Christmas.”

  From the number of boxes he’d seen in the sitting room, the task would keep him busy for a whole afternoon. A good excuse to spend more time with a pretty gal. “Sounds like a bargain.”