Winter Winds of Wyoming Page 4

  Across the street, a crowd of customers milled in and out of the haberdashery while Gabe and Seth serenaded anyone who stopped to listen, their harmony moving Dalton as the melodious sound hadn’t the day before. Standing by himself, Dalton nodded politely to people he knew and smiled, his heart thawing to the season. What a difference a day made.

  The location of the tree was different each year, he’d been told, allowing the businesses of Logan Meadows an equal opportunity for foot traffic. The door of the Silky Hen was also packed with families, bundled in woolen caps and mittens, and large, bulky coats. They ventured inside for free hot apple cider, only to reappear a few minutes later with a steaming cup clutched tightly between their hands. Trays, outside the front door, held the used dishes. This would be a Christmas to remember.

  Earlier in the day, he and Thom Donovan, the good-natured, Irish-born permanent deputy who was married to the owner of the Silky Hen, had said their goodbyes to Albert, Susanna, and Nate seated in a wagon from the livery. New Meringue wasn’t far. They would be there by now.

  Dalton smiled and looked around, still feeling fortunate to have landed this prime position, if only for a month. Logan Meadows was in capable hands.

  “Babcock!”

  Speak of the devil. Dalton watched Thom striding his way.

  “Looks like every single citizen of Logan Meadows has come out to celebrate,” Thom stated shaking his head. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen the place this crowded. And look how tall the tree is. Reaching the top will take some doing.”

  “Sure will,” Dalton replied. “I wouldn’t want to be the man on the ladder. Reminds me a little of the last Christmas I spent back home.”

  “In Breckenridge?”

  Dalton nodded. “That’s right. You’ve got a good memory, Deputy.”

  “That’s my job, Deputy,” Thom kidded back.

  Before Dalton had been shanghaied, he’d earned a generous wage to escort a million dollars from Denver to San Francisco. Thankfully, he’d sent home a good portion of that pay to help his parents in Colorado. If not, even those funds would have been lost.

  Another family, with a handful of children, headed into the Silky Hen.

  “Hannah was up most of the night preparing for the onslaught.” Thom waved a hand toward the sign proclaiming free hot spiced cider.

  “Where do you get apples this time of the year?”

  Thom swayed back on his heels. “Guess you don’t know my wife very well. She plans all year for this event by drying several crates. She loves tradition. Nothing on this earth could stop her.”

  “That’s a good woman you have, Thom.”

  “Don’t I know. Funny, some couples are just meant to be. Even when she was just a girl, she had her eye on me. And, if truth be known, I enjoyed every second of the chase. If she hadn’t given me a chance when I came back to Logan Meadows after my prison sentence, I might have moved on.” He swept his arm wide, taking in the festivities. “She took on the whole town, supporting me when others turned their back on the ex-jailbird.”

  Dalton shook his head. “Difficult to believe anyone thought you a rustler. Or distrusted you.”

  “Distrusted me?” He chuckled and then his smile faded, and his eyes took on a faraway look. “They hated me, with Roberta, my dear mother-in-law, leading the charge. She would have done anything to keep us apart.”

  “Your adoring mother-in-law?” Dalton shook his head in disbelief. “But she’s your most ardent fan.”

  “Now, she is. Back then, she didn’t want me within a mile of Hannah. I wasn’t good enough for her daughter. Thing was, Hannah just wouldn’t stay away from me, thank God. Our love simmered for years waiting to blossom. I have so many mixed feelings about those times.” He turned and looked Dalton in the eyes. “Depends on my mood when I go back and revisit them. You know, I was in a coma for months, but Roberta was the one who cared for me because Hannah had to run the restaurant. She had Markus to think of. Had to keep a roof over his head and food on the table. I shudder sometimes, thinking I could have been comatose for years.” He rubbed a hand over his mouth. “Frightening.”

  “Quite amazing. I hadn’t heard the details before.” Dalton gave a soft whistle. “Life’s funny. You with your coma, me being shanghaied and drugged, then Jake coming to my rescue.”

  Thom smiled. “Let’s not forget about Adaline Costner—Jake’s pretty little sister. I hear she had a large part in your liberation and escape.”

  As if on cue, from across the street Jay Merryweather called out to Dalton, waved, then crossed the road with a hurried step. His rolled-up trousers and too-large coat attested to the fact his clothes were borrowed as well. He adjusted his mangled glasses each time they were about to fall. “Dalton! I’ve heard the good news.” Jay peered through the empty space where one of the lenses used to be. “Congratulations! Deputy Sheriff. I must say, I’m not surprised.”

  The small dandy thrust out his hand to Dalton, and they shook. “Thanks, Jay. Good luck has kissed my face.”

  “Not good luck at all,” Thom stated firmly. “Albert’s been thinking about taking a trip to New Meringue for months with Susanna and Nate. Now, with you here to fill in, he could. And I’ve never seen Nate so excited about anything—even froggin’ on a hot day under the bridge. They’ll have a job keeping him in the wagon.”

  “Well, thank you for your vote of confidence, Thom.” Dalton enjoyed the chilly night air. Just something he liked about winter evenings. “I must say, awakening in the sheriff’s office this morning was a welcome change. Much warmer than upstairs.” He gave Jay an inquisitive look. “How did you hear so quickly?”

  “Beth Fairington came in yesterday and spread the news to anyone who would listen.” His eyes narrowed. “Do the two of you have a history?”

  Heat sliced through Dalton. “What? No! Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Thom laughed.

  “What exactly did she say?” Dalton glanced around as if the woman would appear from out of the night at any moment.

  Jay lifted one shoulder. “She musta said your name fifty times if not once.” He looked between the tall men. “Her face turned rosy, and she giggled. Said the two of you had been friends for quite some time. That’s all.”

  Dalton harrumphed. “No longer than anyone else here in Logan Meadows—except for Susanna. Hmm, I wonder how she found out about my position to begin with?”

  “Susanna, Hannah, Markus, Roberta.” Thom ticked off his fingers. “Any number of ways.”

  Jay’s lips pursed. “She’s not so bad, Dalton.”

  He’d not touch that statement with a ten-foot pole. Time to change the subject. “Where’re the decorations for the tree?”

  “Winthrop stores the adornments and beautifications in the livery,” Thom responded. “He’ll be here momentarily with a wagonful.”

  Smiling, happy folks had been arriving continually throughout the hour. The road was jammed. Maneuvering a wagon would be difficult.

  Dalton stomped the cold out of his feet and beat his bare fists against his arms. “So, what exactly is this Christmas contest? I’ve heard a little here and there, but I’m still fuzzy on the details.”

  Jay’s face lit up. “I’ve been hearing about the contest since I’ve been working in Harrell’s. They’re going all out to win. They’re—”

  Thom held up a hand. “Shush, Merryweather! The displays are supposed to be secret. You’re committing the first sin of the holiday season contest, and Mr. and Mrs. Harrell would be none too pleased to find out their new employee has been running off his mouth.” Thom twisted his fingers in front of his lips, mimicking a key and lock.

  Jay slapped a hand over his mouth. “You’re absolutely correct. I almost forgot. I will say the larger shops have grand displays where the small ones only might paint on a slogan or greeting. Mrs. Harrell will be showcasing a new line of tiny glass ornaments she imported from somewhere back East. Maude will
be green with envy. I haven’t seen anything near as nice in her mercantile.”

  “You don’t say,” Dalton muttered, much more comfortable with this topic than he’d been with the one about Miss Fairington. He kept an eye out now but didn’t see the woman anywhere. Last April, he’d reprimanded the store clerk for being unkind to Susanna. Had he been too hard? The exchange hadn’t entered his mind once since that day. Thinking back almost made him blanch.

  “Your comments were meant to inflict pain more than anything else. It would do you well to mind your own business and tend to your own heart. Perhaps you’d have more friends.”

  “Haven’t you heard, Mr. Babcock? I don’t have a heart, just a hard chunk of granite in my chest.”

  “People can change, if they want to.”

  Thom nodded at some women. “Jay’s right, and then we celebrate Christmas Eve in the new community center.”

  Dalton kept one ear on what Thom was saying as he watched Adaline, Courtney, Jessie, and Sarah making their way through the crowd. Adaline looked especially pretty. Behind her were Violet and Marlene. Jake and Daisy walked arm in arm, and Tyler Weston strolled alongside, tipping his hat at all the young ladies. He couldn’t help but notice Adaline again and how her face beamed. Her eyes were brighter, prettier than the stars above. Whenever she…

  Alarmed, he jerked his thoughts, only to land his gaze on the Italian singer Hunter Wade had brought in to stir up business at the Bright Nugget. She stood in another small circle with Hunter and Tabitha Wade; Brenna and Gregory Hutton, the schoolteacher; and a few other people he didn’t know.

  Thom nudged him with an elbow. “Lots of pretty young ladies out here tonight, Dalton. Anyone in particular catch your eye? More than one match has been made in the Christmas season.”

  He was afraid one had, but he had to steer clear of her at all costs. Jake’s little sister was not meant for him.

  Chapter Seven

  This year was Tyler Weston’s first Christmas in Logan Meadows. The people and all the excitement in the street had him walking tall. Living in a tiny farmhouse in South Dakota, his family of seven had always been too poor, too strapped, and too tired to have anything more than a Christmas supper consisting of a skinny chicken, musty old potatoes with gravy, and a handful of corncobs left over from summer, with more kernels missing than were present. With no tree, no toys, no sugar for a maple syrup walnut pie, still they’d had plenty of love to go around. His mother and father had made sure of that. After the dishes were washed by the three older children, they’d gather around the fireplace and his father would read the Christmas story from his mother’s well-worn Bible. His sister and brothers would sit quietly, enjoying the sound of their father’s deep voice, and the look of love on their mother’s face. They hadn’t had a lot, but they had the better portion, for sure.

  Funny, he’d never felt deprived as a child, even when he and his siblings returned to school to hear about all the finery and festivities other families experienced. Logan Meadows was doing Christmas right, and he hadn’t had to pay a penny. The hot apple cider was nothing to shake a stick at. He was enjoying the drink immensely.

  “Look.” Daisy gazed at the tall tree. “Goes all the way up to the sky. And still a few snowflakes falling. Oh, how I’m hoping for a white Christmas.”

  “It’s a mighty fine sight.” Jake rubbed her gloved hand, protected in the crook of his elbow. “And be careful what you wish for. Your desire just might come true—in spades.” Chuckling, he tweaked her red nose. “But for you, I hope for a white Christmas as well. But just not too much.”

  “That’s some tree, all right,” Tyler agreed. “Almost broke my back getting it set.” He smiled and nodded. Daisy’s nose might be red, but the chill was nipping his ears with sharp teeth, making him wish he still had the old wool hat his mother had knitted when he was six years old. His Stetson didn’t do much for his ears—but he wasn’t complaining. He’d found a warm bed in the Broken Horn’s bunkhouse, the best outfit he’d ever had the privilege to work for. And, truth be told, the ranch felt more like a family than a job. There he’d met Jake and Gabe. He was a lucky man.

  Two young women passed by close, smiling up at him before walking off. One batted her eyes.

  Daisy giggled. “They’re noting you, Tyler,” she said. “You better watch out. I think you have some admirers.”

  He smiled and ignored her comment. “I don’t mind the backache. I’ve never put up a Christmas tree for a town before.” Or for a family. “Anchoring the fir was tricky. But I liked the challenge. Makes me feel useful. With all the men helping, the task wasn’t bad at all.”

  He drifted his attention over to Jake’s sisters, standing in another group. Courtney had stopped by the bunkhouse yesterday for some baking soda from Tater Joe. Tyler had marveled at the blueness of her eyes when he’d opened the door. She was shy and held back, just like he did most times, making him feel like they shared a kindred spirit. He’d like to get to know her better.

  Daisy took a sip from her cup. “Is the tree secure? Can the wind knock it over?”

  Jake shook his head. “No chance. Chase and Hunter buried the anchors deep, and Tyler and I made sure the two ropes were just as strong. Only possible with a hurricane, and Logan Meadows has never had one of those.”

  Halfway down the block, the light in Ling’s Laundry house burned in the window. Ever since he’d given Mrs. Ling such an unintentional scare by peering in her window uninvited from the alley all those months ago, Tyler held a special affinity for the family. Whenever the ranch had laundry to drop off or pick up, he volunteered for the chore. Just something he felt compelled to do. He wondered how Mrs. Ling was tonight, with all the commotion on the street and the coming baby. She was due anytime. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to say howdy to the Lings.”

  “Say hello to Lan for me, if you see her,” Daisy said. “Tell her I’m bringing over some cookies tomorrow.”

  “Will do,” Tyler called over his shoulder as he walked away. He tried the front door, but the lock was already turned. He went to the front window and looked inside, making sure he wore a nice, friendly smile.

  When Mr. Ling passed with a stack of clean, folded towels in his arms, he glanced up and smiled, too. Setting the laundry on the counter, he hurried over. He unlocked and opened the door. “Mr. Tyler. He gave a slight nod in greeting. “You need something for the ranch?”

  “Nope, nothin’ like that,” Tyler replied, realizing that’s the impression he’d given showing up so late. “I just wanted to say hello. Daisy sends a greeting as well and said to tell Lan she’s baked cookies and plans to bring some by tomorrow.”

  Tap Ling smiled. “Very kind. Thank you.”

  “Seeing Marlene at the festivities tonight made me think of Mrs. Ling. I thought I’d come see how she’s feeling. Any baby yet?” He asked the question but knew if Mrs. Ling was in labor all the women would be abuzz with excitement, and he would have heard.

  “She and Lan already home. Resting. She past her time. We think baby come tomorrow. Or next day.”

  “That soon?”

  Tap nodded and then chuckled. “Do not worry, Mr. Tyler. Babe will arrive safely.”

  I hope so. Even with four siblings that lived, Mother still lost three little ones. Birthing isn’t an easy task.

  Tyler nodded and turned, converging with the street of people reverberating with anticipation.

  Jake waved him over. Seeing Adaline and Courtney had joined the group lightened Tyler’s step. He arrived just as Winthrop crossed the bridge, his buckboard overflowing with finery for the tall pine. Would this Christmas be different from years past? He’d been watching out for his siblings so long, he’d never given his future, or his happiness, much thought. He chanced another glance at Courtney and felt his face heat. Perhaps times were changing. He’d just have to wait and see.

  Chapter Eight

  When a rattle of harness leather and iron sounded on S
hady Creek bridge, Dalton looked up to see Win, wearing a tattered red Santa hat, carefully making his way across the bridge. The excited horses tossed their heads and more or less pranced in their harnesses. They weren’t used to the chaotic throng or the tall obstacle anchored in the street. “We better get to work.” Dalton was anxious to act in an official capacity as deputy. “No one is getting hurt tonight under our watch.”

  He and Thom strode forward, leaving short Jay Merryweather where he stood.

  Dalton put out his arms and backed up several paces, making room for the wagon. “Give Win space, please. That’s a heavy wagon coming your way. No one wants to get injured before Christmas.”

  Thom did the same on the other side of the road, and people fell back, clearing the way for the buckboard.

  When the wagon drew close enough, Dalton grasped the headstall of one of the jittery horses and maneuvered the wagon close to the Christmas tree.

  Thom kept away excited children. “Win, I see you remembered the ladder!” he called, gesturing to the wooden legs sticking out the back of the wagon.

  “Think this is my first year?” he called back, and everyone laughed. “I loaded the wagon yesterday and checked my list twice—just like good ol’ Saint Nick. Everything’s here.”

  With the wagon in place, Thom lowered the tail gate of the buckboard with a bang.

  Men and women alike stepped forward.

  Win climbed into the wagon bed and handed out the crates of ornaments and doodads. “Start at the bottom on the other side with these, while we decorate the top on this side—” He wrestled the ladder from the bed of the buckboard, positioning it in the wagon. “When we’re through, we’ll swap sides. Won’t take long to get this tree looking like Christmas. Let’s go, people! Someone jump up here and support this ladder.”

  The voices quieted as young and old, short and tall, grumpy and sweet all pitched in. Gabe and Seth provided the music, and the town started to look enchanted. Red bows and small white candles were attached to the branches. Some held quilted ornaments: stars, angels, and trees. A few more expensive ornaments were made of glass and even some oranges poked through with cloves. Other ornaments were wooden and looked ancient. Dalton wondered about the founding fathers of Logan Meadows. Who were they? Where had they migrated from? Had this tradition been carrying on for years?