A Texas Christmas Reunion Read online

  Everything about the day was as normal as peas, except that she had more money than she could have ever imagined.

  True to form, her father-in-law complained that the babies were fussing and that he was hungry. Levi Silver sat at his customary table, eating his breakfast of eggs and bacon cooked to a crisp.

  Cold seeped through her boots while she swept, same as it always did, but this morning she barely felt it. Her mind was so full of possibilities for the future of her family that she didn’t give the ordinary tasks of the morning a thought. She went through them by rote, her mind flitting among the clouds.

  With her newly come tidy little fortune, she could leave Beaumont Spur along with so many others.

  Or she could stay in the place she loved. Even in the state it had fallen to, this was home, the place the roots of her heart grew deep. She could build a beautiful home at the edge of town where life would be more peaceful. She could stay home all day long just watching her babies grow.

  Gazing at the mountain range that circled Beaumont Spur like a snowy crown, she knew it would be a difficult thing to leave the place where her dreams and her family members were buried. Perhaps she would not be able to, even if it might be for the best.

  The way things seemed now, she wondered if Beaumont Spur even had a future.

  She would not want to invest her heart and her money in a place that was doomed to fail.

  Her money? The idea was still fresh enough to not seem real.

  Who would have imagined that a gang of scruffy outlaws would be worth so much?

  Until this morning, Juliette Lindor would not have believed it.

  The sound of a hammer on wood cut the quiet morning. Juliette looked up suddenly to see Mrs. Elvira Pugley pounding the tool on the front door of The Fickle Dog Saloon.

  “Ephraim Culverson, your saloon is ruining my hotel!” she shouted.

  After a few moments of incessant hammering, the door was flung open and the owner of the saloon burst onto the boardwalk wearing a knee-length nightshirt and a pair of argyle socks. Even with one big toe poking out of the tip of the sock, the man looked formidable.

  “Stop your bleating, woman!” Ephraim’s bellow had always been loud enough to shake windows. This morning, having no doubt been awoken after a night of debauchery, it was even louder.

  “I demand that you keep your fleas on your own side of the wall. Folks are complaining all day and night!” Elvira Pugley was as hot-tempered as her neighbor.

  “My fleas be damned!” Ephraim Culverson snatched the hammer from her hand and pitched it halfway across the road. “It’s your fat, hairy rats carrying them to my place.”

  “Of all the insulting—I’m not the one who named my business The Fickle Dog. Dogs have fleas.”

  “No more than rodents do!”

  Juliette was pretty sure her windows rattled, but she shrugged and continued to sweep. This was not the first time the saloon owner and the hotel owner had erupted in a battle of words.

  No doubt both places had fleas borne by rats. She didn’t care much who’d had them first, so long as the vermin kept to their own side of the road.

  “I’ve a mind to sell the hotel rather than spend another day next door to you.”

  She had? For how much?

  “Sure would suit me not to hear you hammering on my door in the wee hours.”

  To Mr. Culverson the wee hours were what others would call eleven in the morning.

  Did she dare make an offer for the hotel?

  If the saloon owner considered Mrs. Pugley a bothersome neighbor, well, Juliette would be worse. Not as loud, perhaps, but more persistent in the quest for cleanliness.

  But to restore the hotel and hopefully attract a more family-oriented sort of person to Beaumont Spur, to make the ones who were leaving reconsider? The possibility niggled around in her mind until it turned into downright temptation.

  “I just might take the train out of this town before that no-good, thieving, arsonist, taker-of-innocence son of yours comes back to town, and I hear he is.”

  At the mention of Trea, Juliette stopped sweeping, leaned for a moment against the broom handle.

  The last thing she expected was for her heart to kick at the mention of that long-absent boy.

  Maybe he was going to come back to town and be his father’s pride and joy—but he had never been that, not really.

  He would have needed a blacker soul in order for his father to be proud of him.

  For all that Trea acted like the town’s black sheep, Juliette saw someone different.

  She saw a boy with a decent heart looking for acceptance from people who would never respect him. And mostly because of his bully of a father.

  That boy had sought affection in whatever way he could.

  Just now her heart reacted to the mention of him the same way it had so many years ago, with a thump, then a yearning. She could not deny that she had been in childish adoration of him.

  Over the years she’d often wondered about him, remembered the mischievous glint in his warm brown eyes, the hurt and rejection caused by those whose approval he so desperately wanted.

  Of course, he would never have gotten it. The acorn didn’t fall far from the tree she’d heard time and again in reference to Trea.

  How many times had she wanted to shout that trees and their nuts were a far different thing than human beings and their children?

  It was her long-held opinion that a child should not have to bear the sins of the father. It had been shocking to her to discover that, in the opinion of most folks, they did.

  Most especially when the acorn, the product of a sinful man, was named Trea Culverson.

  “You better take that train, Elvira. I aim to promote my son to head man around here, right under me. Don’t reckon you’ll like having my young hellion to answer to.”

  The argument over Trea and fleas continued for another five minutes before the combatants went back inside their own places of business.

  It wouldn’t be long before they were back at it, though, unless Mrs. Pugley was serious about selling.

  If she was? Well, the idea was likely to leave Juliette distracted all day and sleepless all night.

  Chapter Three

  Juliette fashioned the ribbons of her bonnet into a tidy bow under her chin while she watched out the front window for Rose McAllister.

  The babies were fed. Her father-in-law napped near the stove in the kitchen. Given that it was two in the afternoon and a quiet time for the restaurant, seventeen-year-old Rose should have no trouble tending things while Juliette went out to take care of business matters.

  For the first time, she didn’t need to fret over the money she paid young Rose. In fact, with Christmas coming, she would give the girl extra. Rose, who was raising her younger sister, needed additional funds as much as Juliette did—or had until she found a hatbox with her name on it.

  While she watched the boardwalk, her attention wandered to the hotel on the other side of the street, seeing it not as it was, but as she envisioned it.

  Sometime during the wee hours of the night Juliette had made her decision. It was hard to know the moment it happened. At some point in her mind the hotel went from being the run-down eyesore she saw from her restaurant window to being hers.

  Suddenly there was a coat of fresh paint to brighten its appearance. The front porch had half a dozen rocking chairs for her guests to sit in and window boxes full of blooming flowers for them to smell. Blamed if one of her guests would ever suffer a fleabite once she was in charge of things.

  She was in the middle of a quick prayer that Elvira Pugley really did intend to sell when she spotted Rose hurrying along the walk, her ten-year-old sister in tow.

  The door opened with a rush of frigid air. With the clouds building as quickly as they were, it couldn’t be long b
efore snow began to fall.

  “I’m sorry to be late, Juliette.” Rose yanked off her coat and then her sister’s and hung them on the coatrack. “Cora couldn’t decide which book to bring.”

  “Thank you for coming, Rose. I can’t tell you how I appreciate the time to get a few things done.” Juliette would not tell her exactly what things just yet. “I hope to be back within an hour.”

  “No need to thank me. Cora needs a bit of diversion. Without school, she gets restless.”

  “From what I hear, the new teacher will be here any day,” Juliette said.

  “Hope the new one’s better than the last one.” Cora sighed. “He didn’t teach us anything. Just let the boys run wild and the girls talk about everybody.”

  “I hope so, too. We’re lucky to get one at all, though. Most teachers choose a position that pays better than we can offer.”

  “I only wish we knew more about him or her.” Rose rubbed her arms briskly, wiping away the lingering chill from her blouse. “Since the school board is in Smith’s Ridge, and they’re doing the hiring, our new teacher could come from the moon and we wouldn’t know any better.”

  “Well—schoolmaster or schoolmistress, from earth or the moon, it will have to be better than no teacher at all,” Juliette pointed out.

  “Maybe,” Cora muttered with a good deal of doubt evident on her young face as she sat at a table and opened her book. “I’d rather be home with my reading than hear those girls gossip when they ought to be paying attention to the lesson. And if that nasty Charlie Gumm pulls my braid one more time—I’ll have to punch him, I reckon.”

  “And get sent home for a week?” Rose shot her sister a severe frown.

  “I might learn more on my own if we get a teacher like Mr. Smythe was. I don’t think he was from the moon. Maybe Mars, though.”

  “I suppose we shouldn’t judge the new teacher, not even knowing a thing about them,” Juliette said, going out the front door with a backward glance.

  “I reckon so,” answered Cora, but she sounded far from convinced.

  Outside, wind seemed to come at her from every direction. Snow was on its way. For the first time in a long while, she didn’t worry overmuch that it would keep customers home. If the widow Pugley accepted the offer that Juliette presented, there would be money to purchase the hotel and plenty for renovations, too.

  She felt a lightness in her step that she hadn’t felt in quite a while. At the same time, her stomach was a nervous mess.

  Thanks to the generosity of Laura Lee Quinn—no doubt Creed by now—the opportunity of a lifetime was within her reach.

  But only so long as Mrs. Pugley had been sincere in her desire to leave Beaumont Spur.

  * * *

  Coming home to Beaumont Spur was even more taxing to Trea’s nerves than he expected it to be.

  Huddled into his coat against the cold, he leaned against the wall of the train station at Smith’s Ridge, wondering if he was making the right decision in going home.

  Not that wondering made a bit of difference, since he’d already made the decision. He was good and committed to the course he’d set.

  A lot of years had passed since he last walked the streets of Beaumont. It hadn’t even been called Beaumont Spur back then, just plain Beaumont.

  Would folks still look at him with disapproval after all this time? His pa would. The old cuss would be ashamed to his bones.

  And the girls whose affections he’d dallied with? They would be grown women—mothers, even. Would they judge him harshly?

  He was a changed man now—reformed. He only hoped they would see past who he had been to who he had become. Because if they didn’t...

  The train whistle blew, letting the waiting passengers know they could board the train and get out of the frigid weather.

  He picked up the bag of a young lady who seemed to be on her own and carried it up the steps of the train car. She smiled appreciatively at him. He let the smile warm him through, since he couldn’t be sure he would get another anytime soon.

  There was no telling what awaited him at home. He had a lot to atone for, and it was important that he do it. He could not be the upright fellow he’d set his course to be unless he did.

  The lady nodded her thanks, then sat down on the bench across from him.

  Something about her reminded him of Juliette Moreland. The sweetness of her expression—the way she tipped her head to one side when she spoke? That might be it. That, or the spark of goodwill that brightened her blue eyes and reflected a kind soul.

  One of the reasons he was so nervous about going home was Juliette, even though she was probably the one person in town he had not wronged in some way.

  As wild a boy as he’d been, when Juliette looked at him, he’d felt worth something.

  That was it, then. He was on edge because he feared seeing her look at him like everyone else had. Over the years, growing in maturity and wisdom, she might see him differently than she had back then. As a woman grown she might judge him more harshly.

  That fifteen-year-old girl who had followed him one hot summer night to the shed where he’d hidden from an angry storekeeper, the sweet girl who’d sat with him, sharing her dinner, might see him differently now.

  Looking back, it seemed odd—but sitting in that secluded space with darkness coming on—blame it, he wouldn’t have talked and laughed the evening away with anyone but Juliette.

  He’d entertained a lot of girls in that shed. The memories were heated but vague. Visions of pretty faces melded one into one another—their sighs all the same.

  The only one he remembered with clarity was Juliette.

  She was—just better than anyone else he’d ever met.

  Beautiful—it was the name he’d always called her. Partly to see her blush, but also because it was true. He’d called a few others that, too, but he’d only meant it with Juliette.

  Just now, listening to the rumble of the great engine and feeling the vibration of the wheels on the track picking up speed, he didn’t know which he feared most. Seeing her again—or not seeing her.

  * * *

  What had she done?

  Juliette opened the door to her snug little café and came inside, shutting the door on glowering clouds that promised snow. She glanced about the well-kept space and breathed in the familiar scents.

  The café was empty of customers at the moment, but clearly there had been a few. Coffee had recently been served and sweet rolls. The lingering scent of steak told her someone had just enjoyed a meal.

  Every inch of this place was as familiar to her as her face in the mirror.

  What on God’s good earth had she done?

  “You’re back quicker than I expected.” Rose bustled out from the kitchen, dusting flour-smeared hands on her apron. “I figured I’d bake a pan of biscuits. I imagine the folks arriving on the train will be hungry.”

  “I appreciate that. Thank you, Rose.”

  “It was no problem. The babies are asleep and your father-in-law is reading a dime novel. I needed to keep busy with—Juliette, you’re pale. Are you feeling all right?”

  “Am I pale?” Juliette took off her gloves and pinched her cheeks. “Well—it’s just that I bought the hotel.”

  Cora looked up from her book and pointed out the window. “That hotel?”

  “I imagine so, Cora. It’s the only one in town,” Rose pointed out, looking as appalled as her sister.

  “But it’s in worse shape than the schoolhouse is.”

  Juliette hadn’t seen the inside of the small red building in some time but figured she must accept Cora’s word on it. “Yes—that very one. The fleas and the bedbugs all belong to me now.”

  What in glory blazes had she done?

  Turned her safe, predictable life upside down, is what.

  “If I were yo
u I’d tear it down,” Cora advised.

  “That will be enough of your sassy mouth, young lady,” Rose scolded. “If you can’t say something supportive just go back to your studies.”

  “I’ve been trying to all afternoon. But those women from the Ladies Service Society spent their whole meeting time gossiping about that no-account fellow coming to town. If they want to be of service, they should have been over at the schoolhouse cleaning it. It made my brain scatter. I reckon the new teacher will take the first train out of here once she sees where she’s supposed to work.”

  Juliette assumed that the man the members of the Society had been discussing could be no other than Trea Culverson. Juliette was grateful that she had not been here for that conversation. Her recollections of the boy were vastly different than theirs.

  And the very last thing she had time for was filling her mind with a long-ago romance, especially one that had only happened in her imagination.

  “Yes, well,” Juliette said. “That’s what the Ladies Service Society does. They make plans over coffee, but usually don’t act upon them.”

  “Same with our ‘brave’ sheriff. He took his lunch plate to the ladies’ table. Sure did make some big talk about keeping a sharp eye on the man they were talking about.” Cora picked up her pencil and appeared to be absorbed in study, but Juliette figured it was more focused on town trouble.

  “He would, wouldn’t he? After his cousins nearly robbed the bank right under his nose, he needs to do something to look like he’s protecting us.” Rose shrugged. “I was too young to remember Mr. Culverson much, but he sounds charming and wicked all at once.”

  “Yes, well, some will remember him that way, but I remember a boy with a kind heart.”

  When she had time she might give her memories of Trea further thought, but at the moment she had to focus on what might be the biggest mistake she had ever made.

  So much was a jumble in her mind, such as how to deal with various forms of vermin while trying to keep Warren Lindor out of The Fickle Dog Saloon when it was right next door to the hotel.

  But a few other things were perfectly clear.