A Texas Christmas Reunion Read online

  Three soft knocks sounded on the door. He drew it open before his excuse had fully formed.

  “Juliette? What are you doing out so late? Come in out of the cold.”

  “I noticed you didn’t come for dinner and that the schoolhouse lamp was lit, so I figured—”

  Juliette blinked, shot him her wide, lovely smile.

  “You got a puppy!” She handed him a basket with a red-checkered tablecloth folded over it. She reached for the dog.

  He took the one and handed over the other. The pup smelled good, but whatever was in the basket smelled better.

  “I found her under the stairs at The Suzie Gal. She wouldn’t come to me but she came to Charlie Gumm right away.”

  “What a sweet little girl you are.” Juliette cooed and nuzzled the pup’s neck with her nose. “I’m glad it’s Charlie you came to.”

  Funny how he’d felt the same way. “I haven’t known him long, but the boy seems troubled to me.”

  “Oh, I imagine he is. His father left the family a few years ago. Just went away without a word of goodbye. The next they heard of him was in a letter saying he’d cheated in a card game and was killed over it.”

  “Ah...” Poor kid. No wonder he was acting up. “I had the impression his mother is hard on him.”

  “The whole thing left her scarred. I get the feeling she thinks Charlie is the spitting image of his father, so she resents him as much as she fears he will leave her, same as his father did.”

  “Bearing a father’s sins is a tough thing for a kid.”

  “It is, but you managed, Trea. And I do have hope for Charlie. I remember what a sweet little boy he was, before.” The puppy poked up her nose, licked Juliette’s chin.

  It made Trea...hungry.

  Yes, it did, but only because he’d missed dinner and a delicious scent was coming from the basket.

  Food. He was hungry for sustenance and nothing more.

  As things stood now, Juliette had no reason to resent him and he intended to keep it that way.

  “What’s her name?”

  “She doesn’t have one yet.”

  “We can discuss it over dinner. Spread the tablecloth out on the floor in front of the stove, won’t you?”

  “There are plenty of desks we could sit at.”

  “We should eat down here with the dog. She’s just so small and sweet. I can’t bear to put her down.”

  He hesitated. A picnic in front of a warm fire was far too intimate for his peace of mind.

  Juliette pointed to the floor, then the cloth, so he slid it from the basket, shook it and spread it on the oak planks with a flourish.

  “Yes, ma’am.” He swept his arm in a gallant gesture, as if he were a fancy nobleman. “Your wish is my command.”

  “Why, thank you, sir.”

  When she sat down her skirt billowed about her like a blue cloud. Tall and graceful, she resembled a willow swaying in a gentle breeze.

  Settling the dog on her lap, she caught his gaze and smiled.

  The woman plain took his breath away.

  Until this moment he’d thought that to be just an expression, but for an instant he forgot to inhale.

  Thinking back over time, though, hadn’t she always taken his breath away? The very smile he was looking at now was the same one that had invariably made him feel accepted, worthy, even.

  The same smile, yes—but it made him feel something else now. Something that he did not dare to dwell on.

  “Thank you for bringing dinner. It was thoughtful of you.”

  “Cora would have my head if she thought I was letting the new schoolmaster go hungry. The poor girl is worried that you will decide to leave like the last instructor did.”

  Juliette set out bowls then ladled the most delicious-smelling stew into them. In the space between them she placed a basket of biscuits.

  Before she ate, she plucked a cube of beef from her bowl and fed it to the puppy.

  “I’m glad you found her.”

  “Me, too. Seems like a schoolhouse needs a pet. Have you ever had a dog?”

  “Once, a long time ago.”

  “So did I. I just found out—well, let’s just leave it that I’m mighty glad to have this one to watch over. Thank you for allowing it.”

  “It’s important having someone to watch over,” she said, feeding another bite of beef to the dog. “It gives one a purpose for the day—a reason to get up in the morning.”

  “Something you know well.” He wished he could touch her cheek where it was growing pink from the heat of the stove. Of course, he didn’t dare—shouldn’t even be thinking of how soft and smooth it would feel. “It must have been difficult having twins on your own.”

  “They saved me, really. I could hardly close myself off from living, not with them to care for. But Lena and Joe are not twins. I gave birth to Lena shortly after Joe was born. His mother, my sister-in-law, died soon after Steven and Thomas did. I took Joe as my own.”

  “I think I respect you more than anyone I’ve ever met, Juliette Lindor.”

  “I’m sure that can’t be true—besides, Joe has been a great blessing to me. And it’s good for my father-in-law to have his grandbabies close by. I reckon he’d forget everything if he didn’t have them to fuss and fret about.”

  Trea grew silent, thoughtful. She had grown to be an even more beautiful woman than he had imagined over the years, and he dearly wanted to kiss her.

  She smiled softly at him, her lips looking moist in the glow of the stove. It was late and no one would ever know.

  “Did you enjoy cooking, before you started teaching?” Luckily, the question snapped him back to reality.

  He could not—would never be able to—kiss her.

  Just as when they were kids, she was far too good for him. However—and he had to face the fact—things were not the same as when they were kids.

  She was a woman grown. And he was a man who—well, hell and damn!

  Cursing in his mind wasn’t as bad as saying it out loud, but for a man traveling Redemption Road, he ought to be more careful.

  “No, I can’t say that I did. Working in the restaurant at the saloon gave me the means to get an education, but no, feeding folks was not something I cared for overmuch. How about you? Do you enjoy it?”

  “I don’t mind it so much—it’s more, though, that I like doing things well, and cooking is something that I take pride in.”

  Without warning, the pup bounded off Juliette’s lap, slid onto the floor and bumped its muzzle with a thud and a whimper.

  Juliette lunged to the rescue at the same time he did. The result was that his nose ended up in her hair. Hair that had fallen across her cheek only an inch from her lips.

  Lifting his hand, he cupped her cheek in the palm of his hand. It was warm with the heat from the stove. He breathed in the scent of her skin—felt a bit intoxicated by it.

  In another second he would lose any sense of good judgment. Become again the boy who didn’t care for anything but his own desires.

  He forced his hand down, curled it around the dog and scooted backward.

  Juliette’s eyes were closed. She bit her bottom lip.

  All at once she breathed in deeply and her dark lashed eyes slowly opened. His heart slammed hard against his ribs because he imagined he saw his future in her dreamy blue gaze.

  Then she blinked.

  “Well, my goodness.” She reached about, gathering up bowls and spoons and a crumb or two, stuffing them into the basket. “Look at how the time has gotten away! The babies will be needing me.”

  Rising gracefully from the floor, she hurried to the doorway.

  He followed, petting the pup casually, trying to appear as if his world had not just shifted.

  He opened the door and she stepped out into the cold.
r />   “We didn’t name the dog,” he said because—well—they hadn’t. Instead, he’d gotten lost and was not sure he could find his way back to even ground.

  “Oh, yes. I think Charlie ought to name her.”

  And then she walked away into mist. Out of his sight, but into a thousand flights of imagination that would keep him restless all night long.

  * * *

  Trea had been wrong about spending a sleepless night. Dead wrong. He spent three sleepless nights.

  No doubt tonight was going to be worse.

  Given that Juliette was moving into the hotel today, he’d be lucky if his head ever landed on his pillow.

  No matter how he tried, he could not forget about that near kiss, how she smelled and the softness of her skin. It was becoming a fantasy that lurked in his mind—or an obsession.

  It didn’t matter which, he guessed. In either case, it was not going away.

  “Nothing for it but to take hold of the day. Focus on something else, right, Dixie?”

  The dog wagged her tail. Maybe she liked the name Charlie had given her. Or, Trea hoped, she was warming up to him.

  “I reckon we better check on Pa. Take him some breakfast and make sure he’s feeling better.”

  Not that the old man would care that Trea went to the trouble or think kindly of him for it. His father resented him, and nothing Trea ever did would change that.

  “Unless I become a criminal instead of a teacher,” he muttered, stroking soft puppy fur. “Don’t worry, though. I won’t. His approval would be a twisted thing, anyway.”

  There were a few reasons for visiting his father. Delivering breakfast was only one.

  Coming down the stairs and crossing the lobby, he knew at least one of the reasons was futile.

  He tucked Dixie under his coat and went outside. The fog that had lingered for so long had finally lifted but bitter cold took its place.

  He spent a short time at the café having breakfast, then asked Rose to put something together for his father.

  Going outside, he stood for a moment, just staring at the saloon. Conflicting duties tugged at him.

  As the schoolteacher he needed to be beyond reproach. That meant staying well away from The Fickle Dog. But as a son, it was where he had to go.

  The idea of slipping over after dark in the hopes that no one would see him seemed like a good one. But that would look like he was sneaking about and trying to hide something.

  Better to just march over and go inside. Folks were bound to notice but everyone knew that the tawdry business his father conducted would not begin until much later.

  Crossing the street, he prayed all would go well.

  It was no surprise to find the interior of the saloon dark, stifling.

  The saloon Trea had worked for had been notorious, but clean.

  Glancing around, he spotted thick dust on every surface but the bar. Unknown substances smeared the floor. Whatever they were must be what was making the place smell.

  The pup stuck her head out from the shelter of his coat. Her small black nose twitched this way and that. He was pretty sure he didn’t want to know what had captured her attention.

  A scuttling sound came from a dark corner, followed by a curse.

  “Miserable varmint!” A man he hadn’t noticed, and who had apparently slept through Trea coming in, lurched up out of a chair, slapping his shirt.

  “Hello, mister,” he said, sparing a glance at Trea while he stomped the floor with one foot. “Come back at two o’clock. That’s when we open.”

  “I’m looking for Mr. Culverson.”

  “At nine in the morning?” The fellow scratched his head. “He’s in that room behind the bar, but he won’t be up to visitors at this hour.”

  The slightly built fellow shuffled over to the piano and sat down. Bracing his chin in one hand, he plunked on the keys with the other.

  “Long as I’m up, I might as well rehearse,” he mumbled.

  Not that it would help overmuch. The piano was out of tune, so even if the musician had been gifted, that would not help.

  Four days ago, at three in the morning, Trea had decided this piano player was far from gifted.

  The hinges screeched when he opened the door to the room the man had indicated. A figure on the bed twitched and grumbled, only halfway waking.

  “How you feeling, Pa?”

  “Eh?” His father sat up, but slowly, as if everything ached with the effort. “That you, Trea?”

  “It’s me.”

  “What’re you doing here, boy?” He coughed, then rubbed his face with the palm of his hand. “Not scared you’ll dirty your shiny new reputation?”

  “I am scared of that. But here.” He set the tray he had carried over from the café on the table. “I brought you some breakfast.”

  “What for?”

  “You’re sick and you need to eat.”

  “That don’t mean it’s for you to feed me like I’m a feeble old man ready to jump in the hole.”

  For all his surly attitude, his father lifted the cover off the tray, sniffed, then spooned up a bite of oatmeal.

  “Lucky thing I’ve lost my sense of taste.” He shoved in another spoonful, then three more. “Otherwise I wouldn’t be able to eat this. Your coat’s heaving, boy. Must be one of those rats snuck over from the hotel.”

  Driven out by a great deal of hard work, more likely.

  “This is Dixie.” He drew her out of hiding. “My dog.”

  “Sure does look like a rat to me.”

  “Just want you to have a good look at her.” He held Dixie out toward his father. “Pet her and say something nice.”

  “Hell if I will.”

  “The thing is, you robbed me of my dog once before—he was the one thing the Christmas after Ma passed away that meant something to me. Maybe by being friendly to this one you can atone, in some small way, for that.”

  “Atone! Mighty fancy word from someone like you. The fact is, you weren’t the only one missing your mother, boy.” The admission must have cost him because he began to cough violently. “Course, she cared more about critters than she did me—always loving them up and saying sweet words.”

  That was probably the kindest thing he’d ever heard his father say about his mother. Growing up, he’d been convinced the old man was glad to be rid of her.

  “You and her, just the same. Caring about a mongrel more than your own pa. You shouldn’t be surprised I sent the mongrel away.”

  “The funny thing was, I knew the dog loved me. I never did know it with you.”

  “Let me see that thing,” his father said, wiping crumbs of the toast he had gobbled off his chin.

  His father stretched his hand a few inches toward Dixie then curled his fingers into a fist and lowered it to the bed.

  “Sure ain’t got no use for dogs. That’s why you pranced over here and woke me so early? To pester me with a mangy critter and half-spoiled food?”

  “Partly why.”

  “There’s more! I’m going back to sleep.” He lay back on the bed, closed his eyes.

  “I also want to tell you that Mrs. Lindor is moving into the hotel today with her babies. They don’t need to be kept up all hours by that awful piano. If you can’t shut it down sooner, move it to another part of the building where it won’t keep decent folks awake.”

  “Decent folks like you? Aw, you even nag same as your mother did.” His father yanked a faded brown blanket over his head.

  A moment passed with no further comment from under the cover so Trea picked up the tray and left.

  He could not recall a time when he was more grateful to be out in the fresh, icy air.

  Well, he would have been, had not two women on their way into the café stopped to gawk at him.

  Chapter Seven

>   It would have been a good day to stay inside.

  Juliette hugged her billowing cloak tight to herself, leaned into the cold wind while she pushed on toward the Spur Gazette. If she allowed a dash of blustery weather to get in her way, she would never get anything done.

  Along the way she noticed a bough of holly and red berries draped over the window of Flora’s Feathered Bonnet Shop. A few doors down Leif Ericman had decorated his storefront window with glass ornaments that caught the cold-morning sunshine. It made for a pretty, twinkling scene. Even The Suzie Gal sported a wreath in the front window. What had become of the black drape that normally hung there? The sight was so odd that Juliette stopped and stared.

  The saloon sported a festively decorated door while Juliette—who adored everything about Christmas, every pretty bow and fresh-smelling fir bough—had yet to decorate a single thing.

  Yes, life was exceptionally busy at the moment, but one should never be too involved in the day-to-day rush that one forgot to rejoice in the beauty of the season.

  Just as soon as she had her new furniture arranged, the babies and Father Lindor settled in for the night, she would do something about that.

  Yanking the hood of her cloak back over her hair, she hustled toward the Spur Gazette.

  Across the street, footsteps bounded up the boardwalk. Sheriff Hank rushed past.

  Spotting a wreath on the saloon door had been odd, but seeing the lawman in a hurry was unheard-of.

  As curious as those things were, she didn’t have time to puzzle over them.

  A pretty wreath hung on display, tacked to the door of the newspaper office. Even Frank Breene had beat her to holiday decorating. Or perhaps it had been Nannie who’d put it there, given all the frills and fuss that adorned the circle of fir boughs.

  Tonight would be the night, she decided while opening the door and stepping inside, she would correct her holiday neglect.

  “Just because you saw him coming out the front door doesn’t mean—oh, hello, Juliette.” Nannie looked up from her conversation with the Winston sisters. “Papa’s not here, if you came on Gazette business, but I can help you. He’s been training me all week because he thinks it’s time I learned something useful. Don’t go just yet,” she said to her companions, then she took a position behind the counter. “This won’t take but a shake.”