Chapter 19
December 24 dawned gray and bitter. Sleet knifed against the icy windowpanes, and blasts of wind rattled the house and howled down the chimneys. Caitlin eased from the feather bed, taking care not to disturb Derry. When the weather had turned ugly, Caitlin had feared that the child wouldn’t be warm enough in Shane’s old room, so she’d brought Derry in to sleep with her.
Caitlin refused to admit that having the tot beside her kept her from thinking too much about being alone in the bed. Knowing that Derry was safe helped to ease her fears.
The little girl slept soundly, her pink, rosebud mouth puckered and slightly open, one small hand flung over her head. Caitlin couldn’t resist bending down and kissing Derry on the crown of her head. How sweet the babe smelled. Heaven’s scents couldn’t be any better, Caitlin decided.
She smiled as she gently tucked the quilts around Derry’s chin and placed a pillow on either side of the child to make sure she didn’t tumble out of bed. “Yes, darling,” Caitlin murmured. “Whatever else happens, I’ve got you.”
Caitlin’s bare feet burned from the cold as she hurried to the hearth and added another log. The thick walls of Kilronan were built to withstand Missouri winters, but not even a constant fire could take the damp chill from the air or make the floorboards comfortable on a day like this.
Hastily Caitlin pulled on her wool stockings and her shoes and the warmest overshift she could find. She couldn’t take the time to dress before going downstairs to see if Shane had gotten safely home in the night. Instead, she donned a silk dressing gown and swiftly brushed her hair and tucked it under a linen cap.
She’d done everything she could to make Kilronan ready for Christmas. The miniature she’d secretly painted of Justice for Shane was dry and wrapped in a bit of azure silk. She had her father’s watch and a new shirt for Justice, a silver locket for Urika, and her mother’s beautiful lace shawl for Mary.
What to give Gabriel had been a puzzle. Her chests and boxes were nearly empty except for old clothing of her mother’s that might be used to make new garments. None of the material had been suitable or large enough to make the wrangler a shirt. And she wasn’t sure that Gabe would like anything she had to give. In the end she’d settled on presenting him with her copy of Robinson Crusoe. He liked the story so much that she hoped he might value it, even though he couldn’t read.
Caitlin had been making small gifts for Derry since summer: a cloth doll, bean bags, a necklace of pearls cut from an old pair of gloves. Caitlin’s favorite was a collection of smooth, gray creek stones on which she’d painted the letters of the alphabet. She’d also sewn Derry a knee-length hooded cape of red silk with a royal blue velvet lining. And, on the chance that Rachel Thompson might come to Christmas dinner, Caitlin had dug through her silk scraps and cut and stitched a handful of multicolored ribbons. She’d tied them into hair bows and wrapped them in a square of bright yellow satin.
Everything was ready for the Christmas celebration, but it would be hollow for Caitlin if Shane didn’t get back in time to share the day’s festivities. He’d promised he would be home in time, but time was running out.
What if Shane had been attacked by renegade Indians, fallen off his horse and broken his leg, or been swept away crossing a river? If he died in the wilderness between here and Saint Louis, she would never know what happened to him. Fear made Caitlin’s stomach uneasy. She’d had little appetite the night before, but that she’d attributed to Rachel’s coffee.
As she descended the staircase, she heard Gabriel’s laughter drifting up from the kitchen. Maybe Shane had arrived, she thought hopefully. A shiver of anticipation ran through her as she hurried to the doorway.
A figure in a black hat and long coat stood in front of the fireplace with his back to Caitlin. Disappointment hit her hard. He wasn’t tall or broad enough to be her husband.
The visitor turned and grinned.
“Rachel?” Caitlin had hoped she would come, but she hadn’t expected her until Christmas Day. “Welcome,” she said warmly.
“Cait.” Rachel pushed back her hat, and Caitlin saw that she’d twisted her hair up into a bun on the back of her head and tied a bit of rawhide thong around it. “Hope you don’t mind I come early. A heap of snow gonna fall between now and tomorrow.”
Caitlin nodded to Mary and Urika. Justice and Gabe were sitting at the table eating corn cakes drowning in honey, but the cowboy’s gaze was fixed on Rachel.
“Your father and brother?” Caitlin asked.
“Big Earl?” Rachel scoffed. “Not likely. He still thinks Shane stole his. horse. He and Beau will sit there and get sock-eyed like they do every Christmas.”
Mary pointed to the coffeepot.
“Obliged,” Rachel said. “Cold as a witch’s tit out there.”
Caitlin took Rachel’s coat. “Put your boots on the hearth to dry, and I’ll find you some stockings to wear.”
Rachel sipped the coffee and sighed with pleasure as Urika set another place at the table.
“I ate before I left home,” Rachel said as she slid onto the bench across from Gabe. “But this weather makes a body hungry enough to eat a bear, hide and all. McKenna not back yet, huh?”
Justice watched her stonily. “No.”
“Nasty weather,” Rachel repeated, glancing at Gabe and then back to the plate in front of her.
“McKenna will find his way home.” Gabe tore his gaze away from her. “Miss Rachel brought Justice a new saddle blanket, red and black striped.”
Rachel colored. “Christmas gift,” she muttered.
“Butter and milk, too,” Mary added. “Milk froze.”
“Milk?” Caitlin cried. “Real milk! That’s wonderful. Derry hasn’t had any in months. Do you have a cow?”
“Big Earl likes his butter,” Rachel explained. “We always keep a few head.” She dug into a vest pocket and came up with a tin whistle. “Reckon your button would like this?”
“Derry will love it,” Caitlin answered. “Of course, I’m not sure how much Shane will appreciate the noise.”
Rachel and Gabe laughed together.
“Didn’t come empty-handed,” Rachel said. “I brung a few chickens and some beefsteaks along with a jug of Big Earl’s best drinkin’ whiskey. We can fetch it from the barn.”
“No need for you to worry,” Gabe put in. “I’ll get it. I need to feed up anyway.”
“You already fed up,” Justice said.
Gabe gave the boy a playful shove. “Best you mind your own business. You don’t, I might give that new halter to Miss Rachel instead of you.”
“Nothin’ I’d like better than a good Osage braided halter,” Rachel teased.
In the end Rachel and Gabe both bundled up and went to the barn. Mary glanced at Caitlin knowingly as they went out the door, and Urika giggled.
“There’s trouble there,” Mary warned.
Justice shrugged and poured himself another cup of coffee. “He likes her.”
Mary frowned. “No more coffee. Boy drink too much.”
“McKenna drinks coffee,” Justice argued.
Mary said something to him in Osage.
When he started to reply in a sarcastic tone of voice, Caitlin interrupted. “Mind your grandmother.”
Justice’s eyes widened in surprise.
Caitlin turned to Mary. “He’s your grandson, isn’t he?”
Mary removed her pipe and tapped it against the stone hearth. The truth was written plainly across her weathered face. “You tell McKenna?”
“He’ll send her away,” Justice said. “Gabe worked for McKenna’s uncle. When Cerise died, Gabe talked him into hiring Mary.” Then he murmured the Osage word that he’d told Caitlin meant grandmother.
Mary folded her arms over her chest. For a moment she rocked back and forth in silent grief. “Mary’s Cerise dead,” she said finally. “Mary have three sons, two daughters. All dead but Gabriel. Gabriel here, Justice here on Kilronan. All here. Where else old woman go?”
“Gabriel is your son?” Caitlin asked. That part of the secret she hadn’t guessed. “You’re all related and Shane doesn’t know it?”
Mary shook her head. “Now Missy-Wife say Mary go. Maybe McKenna send Gabriel away, too.”
Caitlin went to Mary and embraced her. “But I do want you,” she insisted. “I want you very much. Justice needs you. Derry and I need you.”
Mary patted Caitlin’s shoulder awkwardly and then pushed her away. The older woman’s faded eyes glistened with moisture, and her voice came thick with emotion. “Mary not want cause trouble. McKenna have much anger.”
Caitlin smiled. “For one who doesn’t want trouble, you’ve given me enough.”
“Mary have shame,” the Indian woman admitted. “No want Missy-Wife come this place. Mary think Missy-Wife hate Cerise’s boy. Get rid of boy.”
“Do you still think that I want to be rid of Justice?” Caitlin asked softly.
Mary shook her head. “No. You make better mother than Cerise, Mary think.”
“Justice is Shane’s son, and I hope someday he will be my son as well,” Caitlin said. “And there will be no more talk of you leaving Kilronan. You and Gabe are family. You have as much right—no, you have more right than I do to be here.”
“Missy-Wife no tell McKenna?”
“It isn’t my place to tell Shane. It’s yours and Justice’s.”
“We tell him later,” Mary replied.
“Much later,” Justice agreed.
Caitlin wanted to say that McKenna would understand why they had to keep the relationships hidden, but she wasn’t sure what he would do. He’d seemed so determined to keep Justice away from his mother’s family when they discussed it.
“Uncle Gabe can tell him,” Justice suggested. “McKenna needs him to break the horses.”
“Next year,” Mary said.
Justice grinned. “That’s Indian time. It means sometime far off.”
Caitlin looked suspiciously at Urika. “I suppose this is another relative?”
“Urika same clan,” Mary answered. “Urika no can marry Gabriel.”
Caitlin chuckled. “Well, we’ve got that much straight at least. I’d hardly think Urika is old enough to marry anybody.”
Giggling, the girl covered her face with her hands.
“Urika wife of bad man,” Mary explained. “Drink whiskey, beat woman. Bad man.”
“And where is this bad man now?” Caitlin asked.
“Dead,” Justice said. “Urika—”
“Don’t tell me.” Caitlin threw up her hands in defeat. “I don’t want to know.”
As the day passed, Caitlin grew more and more concerned for Shane’s welfare. She kept busy all morning baking cookies and chasing after Derry. The child was so excited, she was practically bouncing off the walls.
“Father Christmas coming! Bringing me a dolly and a kitty.”
“I hardly think Father Christmas can fit a kitten into his sack,” Caitlin warned.
“Maybe a big kitty,” Justice suggested. “A cougar.”
“Wonderful,” Caitlin said. “That’s all we need.”
After the noon dishes were cleared away, Caitlin stirred up a batch of molasses taffy, using some of Rachel’s precious butter. Everyone took turns stretching the warm candy. When the batch was finished, more had gone into hungry mouths than into the box for Christmas day.
Snow continued to fall, and Caitlin found herself lingering at the windows, looking out for a lone rider. And for the first time, she confronted her worst fears. What if Shane didn’t come back? What would she do with two children to support?
Her breath melted a small circle of frost on the window pane. Idly, Caitlin rubbed her finger against it. “What would I do?”
Her answer came from deep inside.
She’d stay, she thought. She’d stay on Kilronan and raise horses and mules and sell them, just as Shane had done. She’d learn what she had to, and she’d get as tough as she had to—or she’d die trying.
“This is home,” she whispered.
“Mama! Mama!” Derry pulled on Caitlin’s apron. “Popcorn! Gabe’s making popcorn!”
For the children’s sake, Caitlin brushed away her tears and blamed her reddened eyes on the chimney smoke. She hid her worry for Shane and joined in the merriment.
Nightfall came early amid the blowing snow, and Rachel, Gabriel, Mary, Urika, Caitlin, and the children gathered near the kitchen hearth and nibbled on Mary’s sweet, persimmon corn cakes and drank steaming mugs of sassafras tea.
Caitlin read the story of the first Christmas from her father’s Bible, and then Mary recited Osage wi-gi-es, or story poems, from her peoples’ rich heritage. She told about the Tzi-Sho, the Sky People, and the Honga, the Earth People, and how those supernatural beings helped to create life on earth. Then she told a tale about Buffalo Bull and taught the children an ancient song to honor him.
When Mary’s voice grew hoarse, Rachel whispered to Gabriel. He shook his head, but she would not take no for an answer. Finally he nodded, and Rachel glanced shyly at Caitlin.
“We could sing—if ya want,” she offered. “It ain’t a Christmas song, but it’s an old ballad from back home in the mountains. My grandma used to sing it to me.”
“Please,” Caitlin replied.
Gabe took pieces of firewood and clicked them softly together, and Rachel began to sing in a deep, clear voice.
Oh, give me yer hand, pretty Polly,
Give me yer hand, says he,
And I’ll take ye home to yer father’s house,
And married shall we be.
I won’t sit down, said pretty Polly,
I’ll not sit on your knee,
Six foolish maids have you drowned here,
And the seventh I shall not be. . . .
Rachel’s song went on for verse after verse, and soon Gabe, Derry, Justice, and the rest of them were joining in on the chorus.
When she’d finished “Pretty Polly,” Rachel and Gabe went on to sing “The Cuckoo” and “The Wild Moor” together. Derry fell asleep in the middle of “Gypsy Davy,” but Caitlin held her in her arms for more than an hour longer. Then Rachel and Caitlin tucked the child into Caitlin’s bed.
When they came downstairs, Mary had chased Justice off to bed, and Gabe was banking the kitchen fire. The adults talked for another hour or two; then Mary and Urika retired to Mary’s cabin, and Gabe said good night as well.
Caitlin showed Rachel to Derry’s room and changed into her own night clothes and dressing gown. Caitlin knew that she should try to sleep, but she was too restless. Instead, she took a lamp and went back downstairs to the kitchen. She pulled Mary’s rocking chair closer to the fire and sat down and stared into the glowing embers.
“Shane McKenna, where are you?” she whispered. “Please come home . . . come home alive.”
She found herself reciting prayers that she’d not offered for a long time. She’d fallen out of the habit after Mama had died. Caitlin had prayed so hard and long that her mother might live . . . that the potatoes wouldn’t blacken . . . that Shane hadn’t gone to America and forgotten her.
“Please, God,” she murmured. “If you could just spare a small miracle on this holy night. The children need him. I need him.”
How long Caitlin sat there she didn’t know, but sometime in the darkest hours, she felt a bitter gust of wind and smelled the biting scent of snow. The flames crackled on the hearth, and the draft extinguished her oil lamp and sent a whirlwind of ashes and smoke howling up the chimney.
Shivering, only half awake, Caitlin scrambled to her feet. “Who’s there?”
A bulky shape loomed up out of the shadows. Then something whined, an odd high-pitched sound that made the hair rise on the back of her neck.
“Who is it?” Caitlin demanded. She fumbled for the iron poker and raised it menacingly. “Don’t take another step!” she warned. “I’m not afraid to use this.”
“Caity girl, is this the welcome a man gets in his own home on Christmas Eve?”
With a cry of joy, Caitlin dropped her weapon and threw herself at Shane. His coat was crusted with snow, and her stockinged feet trod on his icy boots, but she didn’t feel the cold. “Shane! Shane!” Suddenly she was laughing and crying and trying to kiss him at the same time.
“Easy, woman, you’ll murder my—”
A loud, protesting meow rang out from the depths of his coat. “A cat? You’ve found Derry a cat?” Caitlin demanded.
“Aye, I have, if you can call it that. More clawed demon, I’d say.” He dug into the wrap around his chest, and Caitlin saw a blur of red and white streak up over his shoulder and dash across the kitchen.
“You wonderful, wonderful man.” She stroked his face and found his week’s growth of beard ice encrusted, but she didn’t care. She locked her arms around his neck and pulled his head down so that she could kiss him full on the mouth.
“That’s more of the sort of welcome I’d planned on,” he teased, shrugging off his greatcoat and peeling off layers of clothing between kisses.
“Where have you been? Why didn’t you come back?” she murmured. “I was half out of my mind with worry.”
“Let me near the fire. I’m froze as stiff as a corpse.”
She half dragged, half pushed him into Mary’s rocker and then dropped to her knees to pull off his boots. “Your feet are like ice,” she fussed.
“Hush, woman,” he interrupted, scooping her up and into his lap. “No need to take on. I’m here, and I’ve got all my fingers and toes.” He tilted her chin up and kissed her.
Caitlin went all giddy as she tasted and smelled him. “Darling, darling,” she murmured. “I’ve missed you so much.”
“Maybe I should go away more often.”
Shane’s strong fingers kneaded her shoulders and caressed the nape of her neck. He was so cold, but she knew she could warm him.
Then he parted her dressing gown and lowered his head to kiss her throat. “I’ve missed you bad,” he said.
Caitlin shivered as the tip of his tongue brushed her skin and all her defenses crumbled.
“Caity . . .”
She felt his excitement growing as he continued to kiss and fondle her and murmur her name.
“Oh, Shane,” she whispered. “You mustn’t . . .”
“Do you like that, darlin’?”
“Yes . . . but . . .”
“And that?”
Her pulse quickened.
“Oh, woman . . .”
“Shane . . . What if one of the children wakes and comes down? What if—”
Caitlin gasped as he cupped her breast through her night garments.
“Thinkin’ of you kept me in the saddle these past hours.” His raspy voice echoed with the sweet music of County Clare.
Shane pinched her nipple gently, and Caitlin felt it harden. Instant desire lanced through her and fanned a growing heat in the pit of her belly.
“I want you,” she whispered.
He chuckled. “I was hopin’ you’d say that.”
“Not here.”
He laughed again. “Give me a chance to warm up my tack, and I’ll see what I can do to change your mind.” He pushed her off his lap and got to his feet. “First, you’ve got to see what I brought you for Christmas.”
“Me?” She didn’t want a present. She wanted him to go on touching her. She wanted to keep touching him. “You didn’t need to do that. It was only the children that I was thinking of.”
“It came to me about three days’ ride out of here that you’ve not asked for a single thing for yourself.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “But it’s a husband’s duty to provide for his wife.”
“Duty?” she murmured. What about love? She wanted him to say he loved her—wanted it so badly—but she’d not ruin this night with another argument.
Shane picked up a large sack by the door. “I’ve boots for both of the kids, and a saddle for Justice. That’s in the barn. And I bought store candy, like you wanted. But I wanted to give you your Christmas gift tonight.”
“Oh, Shane, you shouldn’t have spent your money on me.”
He laid the odd-shaped bundle on the table. “Open it.”
With trembling hands, Caitlin emptied the bag and unrolled the red wool blanket. Whatever was inside was about two and a half feet high and heavy. “I can’t imagine—” She broke off with a small cry of astonishment.
“What do you think?”
Words wouldn’t come. Caitlin stared speechless at the gleaming strings and worn wooden frame of an old and obviously much-loved lyre. With a trembling hand, she reached out and plucked one note and then another. Like water cascading from mossy rocks, the clear tones flowed out and filled the shadowy room with pure magic.
“Oh, Shane.” Caitlin began to weep.
“Caity, Caity, stop. I didn’t mean to make you unhappy!” He pulled her against his chest. “I thought you’d like it.”
“I do. I do . . . like it,” she sobbed. “I love it.”
“You’ve a funny way of showing a man.”
“Oh, Shane, how did you ever find a lyre out here in the wilderness?”
He held her tightly, trapped in the heat of his arms. She laid her head against his chest and closed her eyes. He must love me, she thought. He wouldn’t do this if he didn’t. But deep down inside, she knew that Shane still held back a part of himself, and that the words she wanted to hear wouldn’t come.
“I told you I was going to Saint Louis. It’s a civilized town, a place where a man can get almost anything for a price, even a Greek lyre.”
“It must have cost you . . .” She trailed off, not wanting the argument of money to come between them, not wanting to spoil the magic of this night.
“There was a man there, Zacky King. He made me a standing offer for Cherokee. He’s been trying to buy him off me for years.”
“Your horse? You sold your buckskin horse to buy me a lyre?” Caitlin pulled away from him. “Not Cherokee! You love him.”
His kisses smothered her protests, and Shane pushed her back against the table, and they made slow, glorious love while the wind howled, and the snow drifted high around the house, and everyone else slept.