A Lawman's Christmas_ A McKettricks of Texas Novel - Linda Lael Miller [67]
“I never say anything I don’t mean,” she replied, quite truthfully.
He grinned. “I meant to be the first one to say ‘I love you,’” he told her, “and darned if you didn’t beat me to it.”
“Hold me,” Dara Rose said. “Hold me tightly, so I know this isn’t a dream.”
“It isn’t a dream,” he told her. His breath was warm in her hair. “I love you, Dara Rose. I think I have since I first laid eyes on you that first day, when I brought Edrina home on Outlaw and you were so riled up, you were practically standing next to yourself.”
She clung to him, with both arms, and her body ached to receive his, but that would have to wait.
Still, it was Christmas Eve, and Clay was holding her, and in a few weeks, they’d be settled in their new house, with a room to themselves and all the privacy a married couple could want.
She’d waited a long time for Clay McKettrick, and she could wait a little longer.
ON CHRISTMAS DAY, in the early afternoon, members of the community began arriving at Blue River’s one-room schoolhouse, some on foot, some on horseback, others riding in wagons or buggies.
Miss Alvira Krenshaw had done a fine job decorating the place with paper chains and the like, and everyone who could afford to brought food to share with their neighbors. Clay carefully carried in the huge ham, arranged on a scrubbed slab of wood and draped in clean dish towels, and set it on top of one of the bookcases, with the mounds of fried chicken and the beef roasts and various other dishes already provided by earlier arrivals.
Edrina, preening a little in her new coat and shoes, carried another of her gifts, a game of checkers in a sturdy wooden box, under one arm, hoping, Dara Rose supposed, to find some unsuspecting child to challenge to a game.
Harriet, also sporting a new coat and lace-up shoes—the first pair she’d ever owned that hadn’t belonged to Edrina first—held Florence tightly against her side. The doll came with a small wardrobe, neatly folded inside a travel trunk, and Harriet had changed its clothes three times before they left home.
Everyone was there, including Dr. Howard, his wife, Eloise, and little Madeline, the newcomers.
People laughed and talked, often-lonely country folks crowded together in small quarters, and eventually Miss Krenshaw sat down at the out-of-tune piano and launched into a lively version of “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen.”
Just about everybody sang along; though, of course, some voices were better than others. Some hearty, some thin and wavering.
“Hark, the Herald Angels Sing” followed, and then “Silent Night.”
Snow began drifting past the windows, and Ezra Maddox showed up, along with Peg O’Reilly, her two boys and little Addie, bundled warmly in a quilt.
Holding the child in his strong farmer’s arms, Mr. Maddox looked around at the assemblage, as though daring anyone to question his presence.
“Come in, come in,” Miss Krenshaw sang out, from the piano seat, “we’re just about to start supper.”
Dara Rose immediately approached Peg, though she gave Mr. Maddox a wide berth, and hugged her friend warmly. Peg had obviously made an effort to dress up, and the children looked clean and eager to share in festivities.
“Happy Christmas, Peg,” Dara Rose said, smiling.
“Ezra didn’t say we ought to bring food,” Peg whispered, looking fretful, as though she might be poised to flee.
“Never mind that,” Dara Rose assured the other woman. “There’s plenty to go around. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if we wound up with as many leftovers as the Lord’s disciples gathered up after the feast of the loaves and fishes.”
Peg managed a tentative smile. “Addie shouldn’t be out—she’s been running a fever. But the little ones were so pleased to have some kind of Christmas…”
Dara Rose couldn’t help seeing some of herself in Peg O’Reilly. After her husband’s desertion, and all the struggles to keep body and soul together, for her children and herself, Peg barely believed in good fortune anymore, or human generosity. If, indeed, she’d ever believed.