Five

A week later, Sadie peered out of her kitchen window and shook her head. Cole was at it again. If he wasn’t on the roof or mucking the barn, he was oiling the windmill and repairing the farm equipment.

Under Cole’s watch, the battle with the fox had turned into an all-out war. Traps now dotted the yard, and fences were reinforced with wire. So far, nothing had worked, but today he had a new plan and that was to drench the yard with ammonia. She only hoped it was as offensive to the fox as it was to her.

She dropped the curtain in place and finished washing the breakfast dishes. Just as she placed the last bowl in the cabinet, Cole stomped into the house, hauling a tree.

She blinked. “What in the world?”

“It’ll soon be Christmas,” he said. “Thought the little fella needed a Christmas tree.”

She followed him into the parlor. “Is that what you call it?” The drought had taken its toll on trees and shrubbery. By the time Cole stood the pine in a bucket of coal, the branches had parted company with half the needles.

“Sorry.” A sheepish grin spread across his face. “It’s the best I could find. Have any ornaments?”

“In the attic,” she said. “I’ll get them.” It didn’t take long to locate the box of Christmas ornaments stored there.

Moments later, she set the box on the floor in front of the fireplace. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen these,” she said as together they pawed through the wrappings.

She hadn’t bothered decorating the year before, the worst Christmas of her life. Her friend Meg Lockwood had invited Sadie to dinner, but morning sickness had kept her trotting back and forth to the outhouse for most of the day. Never had she felt so scared or lonely in her life.

This year she was actually looking forward to the holiday, and that surprised her. It was because of Adam, and no other reason. Certainly, it had nothing to do with the captain.

Chewing on her bottom lip, she tried to decide where to hang the shiny ornament she’d pulled from its wrappings. Her gaze soon found its way to the captain’s back as he hung a wooden angel on the tree, muscles rippling beneath his shirt. Clamping her mouth shut, she took a deep breath and hung the ornament on a lower branch.

They reached into the box at the same time. The touch of his fingers sent warm tingles up her arm and she quickly pulled back. “Sorry,” she murmured, refusing to meet his gaze.

She blew out her breath and waited until he’d turned his back before reaching into the box for the tiny pair of mittens.

“I remember the Christmas my grandmother made these,” she said softly. “She tried to teach me how to knit, but I was all thumbs.”

Cole turned and regarded her with a thoughtful look. “Sounds like you miss her.”

“I do. After my parents died, my grandparents raised me. After Grammy died, Grandpappy drank himself to death.” She sighed. “Why do people do that? Drink themselves silly?”

Cole reached into the box for a toy soldier attached to a string. “I guess some people don’t know any other way to ease their pain.”

Her gaze met his. “Richard sure did like his firewater. More than once I had to drive into town and drag him out of some saloon.” She knew how much he hated the farm, especially at the end. Was that why he’d started drinking so much? “That’s not why he got shot, is it? Because he was drunk?”

“Your husband never drank on the job. It’s against company policy. Drunkenness, along with any rowdy behavior, is cause for immediate discharge.”

She drew in her breath. Knowing that Richard had died stone-cold sober didn’t make her feel any better. Dead was dead, no matter how it happened. Feeling suddenly self-conscious beneath Cole’s steady gaze, she turned to hide her reddening face.

“Sounds like you had a tough childhood,” he said.

She hung the mittens before answering. “Didn’t know there was any other kind.” She chanced a look in him. “What about you?”

He pulled a glass ball from the box and lifted it to hang. “My mother died in childbirth, so I never knew her. Pa remarried a couple of years later. He owned a general store.” His face darkened. “One night as he was closing up shop, he was held up and shot to death.”

“How awful for you,” she said quietly. “How old were you?”

“Twelve.” He rubbed his forehead and added, “The killer got away. But the Texas Rangers tracked him all the way to Indian Territory. That really impressed me, and I was sold on the idea of becoming a ranger myself.”

She moistened her lips. “Any regrets?”

He arched an eyebrow. “About being a ranger? None.” He named some of the outlaws he’d helped capture. It was an impressive list, and the pride in his voice reminded her of her father. Papa had helped catch a number of outlaws too. Whenever he spoke of his work, his eyes had shone much like the captain’s eyes shone now.

Her gaze dropped to her empty hands. “What about the man who killed my husband. Will you get him, too?”

“You can count on it,” he said, without a hint of doubt. “Sometimes it takes a while, but like I said, eventually we rangers always get our man. Or in this case, our men.”

She reached into the box and pulled out a tiny wooden sleigh. “Men?” she asked.

“The Carpenter brothers. They’re responsible for your husband’s death.”

Her mouth ran dry. “Did the Carpenters put that hole in you too?”

A muscle quivered at his jaw. “’Fraid so.”

She drew in her breath. “Did he…did he suffer?”

He shook his head. “Didn’t know what hit him.” After a moment, he added, “I’m sorry. Like I said, we’ll catch the men responsible.”

Fingering the sleigh, Sadie tried to take comfort in his promise, but it was no use. Her father and husband had made promises too, none of which were kept.

Not wanting to spoil the fun of decorating the tree, she pushed her dark thoughts aside and concentrated on the present. These past couple of weeks had been a dream come true. Cole had been a tremendous help around the farm.

Each night they’d sat in front of the fire with Adam between them. Sometimes Cole played her grandfather’s fiddle while she made up ridiculous lyrics. Their songfests always ended in laughter. At other times, she’d read aloud from her grammar book, and she and Cole would try to make sense of the complicated rules. But whether working, playing, or just relaxing, the three of them had seemed like a family. A real honest-to-goodness family that she’d always wanted.

Now she was reminded of something she didn’t want to think about—Cole was a Texas Ranger, a temporary guest. A man on the move. She had no right thinking of him as family, or anything else for that matter.

“My father was a ranger,” she said as a way to remind herself what was at stake. “His name was Jack Carter, and he was killed in the line of duty. I was only ten at the time.”

His eyes filled with sympathy. “Sorry to hear that. It’s gotta be tough losing both a father and husband like that.”

“Tough don’t—doesn’t—begin to describe it.”

“We rangers don’t always make the best family men, but we do a lot of good. I hope knowing the good that your father and husband did brings you some peace.”

She hung the sleigh and busied herself untangling a string of beads. “I’ll be sure to tell that to Adam when he asks why the other children have fathers and he doesn’t.”

Cole lifted a tin star out of the box and attached it to the very top of the tree. While he tackled the high branches, Sadie concentrated on the lower ones. Sometimes his arm brushed against hers or they’d reach for an ornament at the same moment. Such occasions were met with quick glances and murmured apologies.

By the time all the ornaments had been hung, hardly a needle remained intact. That was the least of it; the tree tipped to the side as if looking for a place to land.

Cole stood next to her as they admired their work, and she basked in the warmth of the shared moment. It was the saddest, most wonderful tree Sadie had ever seen.

“I love it!” she said and giggled.

Cole laughed too. “I can hardly wait until Adam wakes up from his nap and sees it.”

The softness with which he spoke Adam’s name touched her deeply. Gazing up at him, she knew she was in trouble. Every accidental touch had triggered a jolt of awareness. Every unguarded look had tugged at her heart. A single whiff of his masculine scent was enough to quicken her pulse and steal away her breath.

As if he shared similar thoughts, his gaze met hers briefly before they quickly moved away. While he swept up the pine needles as if his life depended on it, she carried the empty box back to the attic, her senses still spinning.

Oh, yes, she was in trouble. Big trouble. And she didn’t have the slightest idea what to do about it.