A Texas Kind of Christmas Read online

  “Yes, Miss. I’ll go fetch something the outlaw can wear.” Sam vanished and five minutes later he was back with warm wool trousers and a shirt and leather jacket. Without waiting he rushed to Nate.

  She turned to Cody. “He’s not an outlaw.”

  “I’ve already figured that out. Never did judge a man by his duds.”

  “Which reminds me,” Katie said, leaning toward Jacqueline, not Cody. “We need to work on the captain here. He wore what he has on to the ball.”

  Jacqueline nodded. “We’ll have our work cut out for us if this is his dress clothes.”

  “What?” Cody had the feeling they were about to gang up on him.

  “Nothing,” they both said at once.

  He leaned back, fighting down a laugh. He’d put up a fight against any idea they had, but he had a feeling he’d be losing the battle.

  The cook stepped out of the bedroom before Cody could finish the horrible cup of tea Katie poured him. “Miss Jacqueline, he’s asking for you.”

  Jacqueline rushed to Nate. Katie followed, then Cody.

  He stood at the door just behind Katie watching Nate and Jacqueline. She curled up beside him, her hand locked in his. Nate looked terrible, bruised and cut up, but in his stolen Western clothes, he now seemed to belong in this wild country.

  “No one has ever cared enough about me to do what you did,” he said to Jacqueline. “You risked your life.”

  “I told you I’d save you.” She glanced back at Cody and Katie. “I did have help.”

  Cody pulled Katie back and closed the door. “We’ll give them some time.”

  The cook picked up her rags and potions. “Don’t be giving them too much time or I’ll be delivering a baby next fall.”

  Cody laughed and kissed Katie right in front of the cook.

  “Or two,” the cook added as she left with Sam right behind her.

  Drawing Katie close, he kissed her the way he wanted to from the first moment he’d seen her.

  When she pulled away, he fought the urge to hold on tighter.

  “I have to tell you things before we go any further, Mr. Lamar.”

  “I’m listening. Tell me what you have to say and then I’ll ask you to marry me.”

  “Maybe,” she said, staring at him with determination in her eyes. “I’m not afraid of you, Captain Lamar. I’ll have my say. I’m twenty-eight. I don’t have a penny to my name. I’m a maid here at the St. Nicholas. I’m not a virgin.”

  He smiled. “I’m thirty-four. I’ve got a ranch. Some years I’m rich and some I’m broke. I’m a soldier, been a loner most of my life. Folks say I’m a hard man, but I’ll always be good to you. I’m not a virgin either and I think I’m more afraid of you than anyone I’ve ever come across, but I’m not backing down.”

  He saw a flash of panic in her eyes and added, “How about we forget about our lives before tonight? We’re two newborns learning to love for the first time. Our lives are from this moment on and it’s going to be what we make it.”

  She rested her head against his heart. “I have a feeling we’ll rack up all the memories we can carry.”

  “That’s my plan. Maybe I’ll even learn to dance.”

  He brushed his hand over her hair, loving the feel of her so near. “Only we got to get one thing straight. You got to stop calling me Mr. Lamar.”

  “Yes, sir.” She giggled.

  Chapter 14

  Jacqueline stood at the bedroom door. Nate was sleeping. For a while she watched Cody Lamar and Katie holding each other as if they never planned to let go.

  “Cody,” she finally said. “May I speak to you alone for a moment?”

  The couple separated but neither one looked guilty. “Of course,” Cody managed.

  “I’ll sit with your Nate,” Katie said, crossing the room and closing the door behind her.

  Jacqueline grinned. “We need to talk.”

  “I agree.”

  Chapter 15

  The first light of dawn was fighting its way through the frosty windows of the hotel’s ballroom when Jacqueline’s father stood before her with the preacher at his side.

  “Don’t you think your stepmother should be here?” Harry Hartman bellowed, then groaned in pain. If his eyes were any more red he’d match the still-hanging decorations.

  “No,” Jacqueline said, staring straight at her father. “My stepmother does not need to be here.”

  “Fine. Let’s get this over with.” Harry looked at Cody, then back at his daughter. “So you agree to marry? Cody is a bit older than you, but he’s a good man. Good neighbor too.”

  “I do plan to marry this very morning, if you keep your promise, Father.”

  Harry Hartman scratched his head. “I’ll never hear the end of it if I don’t get you settled. Margaret thinks it’s the only way you’ll be happy.”

  “For once I agree with her. First, we sign the papers, then the preacher will marry me off.”

  Harry scrubbed his face and seemed to be trying his best to look sober. “I know Cody; he’s been my neighbor for years. You picked a fine husband. But, who are these two people?” He glared at Katie and Nate. “Wait a minute. She’s a maid and this man is the outlaw who kidnapped you and beat you up. I’ll see him hang.” Anger fired in the old rancher, but his hangover washed away any actions.

  Before Harry could move toward Nate, Cody did what a friend would do. He locked his arm under Jacqueline’s father, halfway stopping him and halfway holding him up. “He’s no outlaw, Hartman. I’ve got a telegram from Austin to prove it. They caught the real bank robber.” Cody gave him time to absorb the news, then he added, “Nate Ward never hurt your daughter. Margaret did.”

  Harry opened his mouth to argue, but somewhere in his whiskey-flooded brain he must have known the truth.

  He backed up until his legs bumped a chair, then Harry Hartman crumbled. “I just wanted you to be happy. I wanted to see you married. Margaret said it was the only way.”

  “I am marrying. I found just the right man.” Jacqueline knelt and looked up at her father. “And I will be happy.”

  The old man nodded. “Then I’ll sign over what I promised. I said you could pick the man you marry. Tell me what part of the ranch you want?”

  Jacqueline smiled. “Sign over the fourth of the ranch that borders Cody’s land. It’s not the best for grazing, but it’s the part I’ve always loved. I’d like you to build a house in the cottonwoods near the river. And I’d like the entire second floor with big windows facing east and west to be for my books.”

  “Done.” He touched her bruised jaw. “She really did hit you even after I said she never could?”

  Jacqueline nodded. “It doesn’t matter now, Father. It will fade along with the memory of her.”

  “What else can I do?” he asked.

  “I’m giving Cody the cattle in exchange for half the profit when he sells them. He’ll also have grazing rights free until we return. Nate and I plan to spend at least a year traveling.” She smiled at her father. “Thanks to you I have plenty of money in the bank in Dallas.”

  Harry sobered suddenly as if he’d been slapped. “Wait. You’re marrying the outlaw? I thought it was Lamar?”

  Nate straightened but didn’t say a word. He was standing tall, but it was costing him dearly. Cody stood ready to catch him if the actor tumbled.

  “You said I could pick the man I wanted. He’s a good man.”

  “No. Not him.” Harry started to stand.

  She put her hand on her father’s shoulder. “I’m marrying him, Father.”

  Harry huffed like a bull getting ready to fight. “He probably knows nothing of our life.”

  Nate laid his hand over Jacqueline’s hold on Harry’s shoulder. “Don’t argue with your father. He’s not a man who listens. We’ll be fine without him, Littlebird.”

  Harry looked up at his only child. To her shock, huge tears rolled down his wrinkled, weathered face. All the anger had left him. “Her mother called her
that,” he said, really looking at Nate for the first time. “Her mother loved her.”

  “So do I,” Nate answered. “We don’t need anything from you. Tear up the papers. We don’t need your cattle or land.” He gently pulled Jacqueline’s hand away and turned her into his waiting arms. “Come along with me.”

  She nodded.

  Before they reached the door, Harry roared, “You can’t tell me what to do. I’m doing what my daughter wants me to do. I’m a man who keeps his promises. It’s her inheritance. She has a right to handle her own money and her own life.” He glared at Nate. “Heaven help me, you seem to be what she wants. And you’d better be good to her.”

  “Nate, wait,” Cody shouted out the command.

  When Nate paused, Cody ordered again, “Turn around and shake hands with your new father-in-law.”

  Nate hesitated. A lifetime of rejection had left him strong.

  Cody tried again. “This is probably as nice as he gets, but this is his way of telling you he loves his daughter and if she wants to marry you, that’s all that matters.”

  Nate looked confused. “I’ve never had any family. Now I see what I didn’t miss. But, if you are all the family she has, she’ll probably want you around.” He offered his hand to the old man. “I love your daughter. I’ll put up with you for her sake.”

  Harry grabbed on tight and didn’t let go as he pulled Nate toward him. “I’ll do the same, but don’t you ever call my daughter Littlebird again.”

  “Not a chance of agreeing to that,” Nate answered. “And I’m thinking of teaching my sons to be actors or outlaws.”

  “Over my dead body.”

  “Can I have that in writing?”

  Cody watched, swearing all the air left the room. The two men just stared at each other as if waiting for all hell to break out. With the old man still half drunk and Nate barely on his feet, it wouldn’t be a fight he’d want to see.

  Then, Katie, the one everyone had forgotten was there, began to laugh.

  For a moment no one moved. Jacqueline smiled.

  Cody decided both women had gone mad. Maybe the whole world had. It had been one hell of a night.

  In a voice painted slightly with Ireland magic, Katie said, “Mr. Hartman, you sound just like my father did when my older sister married. He threatened to murder Shane in his sleep. Three years later he told my sister if she didn’t start being nicer to Shane she’d have to move out. Of course, Shane could stay.”

  “What happened?” Jacqueline asked as if nothing of importance was going on in the room.

  “My sister took my father’s advice and stopped picking on her father’s son-in-law. Three years later they had four boys and no longer had time to fight. I got a letter a few years ago saying they were up to eight sons now and living in Dublin. Shane became a banker.”

  Cody realized her story had worked. The yelling was over.

  Harry offered his hand. “Maybe you’ll grow on me, outlaw.”

  “Maybe you’ll grow on me, old man. I love your daughter. I’ll meet you halfway for her sake.”

  “Fair enough, but I’ll teach my grandsons to ride. I won’t have my kin being city boys.”

  The preacher, who’d been standing in the wings watching all the action as if it was a grand play, moved closer. “Can we get on with the wedding? I’ve got a Christmas service this morning.”

  Cody offered his hand to Katie. “Marry me, Katie.”

  She nodded and stepped to his side. She said all she needed to say when she kissed his cheek.

  Jacqueline looped her arm through Nate’s. “Please, marry me. You’ve already stolen my heart.”

  “We’ve only known each other one night, and we’ve both been beat up and almost killed. You think we can make it?”

  “It’ll be an adventure.”

  “Dearly beloved,” the preacher started. “We’ll keep this short . . .”

  Margaret started pounding on the door, demanding they let her in.

  “. . . to join these men and these women . . .”

  Marshal Calaber added his voice to Margaret’s. He threatened to break in and arrest them all. He demanded in the name of the law. When that didn’t work, he promised to shoot them all.

  No one seemed nervous except the preacher. “I pronounce you two couples man and wife.” The preacher was shaking so badly his Bible looked like it was dancing in his hands.

  The door crashed in as he rushed through the service. “You may kiss the brides.”

  The marshal and Margaret were almost knocked down by the staff of the St. Nicholas rushing in to congratulate the two couples. Even Harry Hartman joined in all the hugging going on.

  When Cody finally got a chance to hold Katie, he lifted her up and yelled above the crowd. “Let’s go home.”

  “I’d like that, Mr. Lamar.”

  He frowned. “Don’t you think you could call me Cody?”

  Katie shook her head. “I will when I get to know you better.”

  He grinned. “Any objection to us going home and making that happen?”

  “None at all, dear.” She cupped his face with her small hands and kissed him. “Then, I’ll teach you to dance.”

  As Cody turned toward home he whistled for the barn dog. “Come along, Friend,” he said.

  The dog didn’t have to be asked twice.

  Epilogue

  Cody and his Katie eventually bought the land Harry deeded to his daughter and lived out their lives on the ranch. Through good times and bad they made memories. Some turned out to grow into six sons. Until Katie died in her eighties, Cody always saw her as his fairy.

  Nate and Jacqueline traveled for two years before her first pregnancy brought them back to their house in the cottonwoods. There, she wrote stories of her adventures and Nate had a great time pestering his father-in-law. They had four daughters and the old man didn’t seem to mind a bit.

  Harry Hartman sent his wife, Margaret, back to New Orleans where he’d met her. He never saw her again.

  Twenty Christmases later Nate and Jacqueline’s second daughter married Cody and Katie’s oldest son.

  Marshal Calaber never became governor. Shortly after the ball of 1859 in Dallas, he moved to Oklahoma Territory. Those who saw him leave said he walked with a limp from an attack that Christmas season. They found him bloody and half frozen in the garden of the St. Nicholas Hotel. Some say it was revenge, or payback for some terrible wrong he’d done. Others noticed a few of the dents in his head looked more like pot marks.

  None of the staff of the hotel reported seeing a thing.

  Birdie’s Flight

  CELIA BONADUCE

  To Billy

  Merry Christmas, my love

  Chapter 1

  December 1859

  Dallas, Texas

  Birdie Flanagan stood in front of the brand-new St. Nicholas Hotel. She willed her feet to take the final steps to the lobby of the gleaming three-story brick building. She tried to steady her hands. She’d traveled so far; she couldn’t let her nerves fail her now. With exactly fourteen cents in her change purse, she was out of money.

  Her luck had deserted her long ago.

  She was a long way from County Clare, where two years ago, at age eighteen, she’d bought into the myth that all the streets in America were paved with gold. New York and New Orleans proved how wrong she’d been. There were no gold streets. Here in Dallas, half the streets weren’t paved at all.

  Birdie walked into the lobby, making sure her hair was tucked into the embroidered scarf under her hat. Her shoulders were squared and her head was held high. She patted the outside pocket of her valise, assuring herself her letter of recommendation was secure. She had to make a good impression on Sarah Cockrell, the woman who, against all odds, had built this hotel single-handedly after her husband’s untimely death. Birdie told herself that any woman who could build a hotel in a man’s world would understand the plight of another woman determined to prove herself.

  But she’d bee
n wrong before—and not just about the streets of America.

  Birdie looked around the lobby. The first floor of the hotel was a flurry of holiday preparations. Fragrant evergreen was being strewn over balconies and the largest Christmas tree Birdie had ever seen was being settled in the middle of the lobby by four burly—and by the looks of the tipping treetop, optimistic—men.

  Christmas was around the corner and the St. Nicholas Grand Ball, a gala that was the talk of Dallas, was a mere ten days away. There seemed to be more workers than guests in the lobby, which Birdie took as a good sign. It was obvious the hotel was sparing no expense. Surely they could use another employee. At least until the ball was over.

  “Excuse me,” Birdie said as she approached a woman in a black maid’s outfit who was setting ornamental glass balls in a silver tureen.

  “Yes?” the woman said as she looked up, a pleasant expression on her face. She eyed Birdie’s travel-worn clothes and dusty suitcase. Her expression changed. Clearly, this was not someone she needed to indulge. “What is it, girl? I’m busy.”

  “I’d like to speak with Mrs. Cockrell,” Birdie said, making sure her voice didn’t quaver.

  “You and every other floater,” the woman snorted, and went back to arranging her centerpiece.

  Birdie didn’t flinch. Floater was not a word Birdie had ever heard in Bunratty, Ireland. In Bunratty, the woman would have been calling her a loafer. Although no one at home had ever called Birdie a loafer. She came from a good family who, while poor, always managed to make ends meet. Her family had been part of the fabric of the town. The first time floater had been hurled at her in New Orleans she didn’t even know what it meant. The accusation stung, but like everything else in her life since stepping foot in America, she’d learned to brush it off.

  “I have references,” Birdie said.

  The woman’s hands fumbled with one of the glass balls. She lost her grip and she gasped as the ball slid out of her fingers. Birdie managed to rescue it before it hit the floor. The woman’s hands flew to her heart.