Christmas Cowboy Kisses: A Family for Christmas / A Christmas Miracle / Christmas with Her Cowboy

She smiled at him, almost chuckling at the woebegone expression on his face. “Do you think you are such a poor specimen as all that? I see you as a shining example of fatherhood, Gideon. Your son would not be as he is without your influence.”

“My daddy says I’m a good boy,” Joseph said with a speck of pride showing in his shining eyes.

“I’m sure you are. You certainly know how to behave well and that’s about all that can be expected of a child your age,” Joy told him, leaning close to speak to the lad as if he were an equal and would understand her words. She marveled at how she’d misjudged the small boy at first, thinking him to be three or four years old. Gideon had since told her that Joseph was small for his age; he was actually six. That explained his ability to communicate so well, Joy thought.

“Thank you, ma’am,” Joseph said politely, his wide grin showing his delight at her attention.

“Well, I’d better get busy and start something cooking for dinner. These dishes aren’t going to wash themselves and I have dish towels to wash and hang to dry,” Joy said, listing her agenda for the morning.

“I’m a pretty good hand at dishes,” Gideon said, offering his help.

“I’ll take you up on that.” Joy rose and took her cup to the sink, adding it to the pile already awaiting warm water in the dishpan.

As the two adults did the dishes, Joseph watched from his place at the table, not seeming surprised at the sight of his father with his hands in dishwater.

But he totally missed the warm look Gideon bestowed upon the woman who stood beside him, nor would he have understood the message his father sent silently with but a wink of his eye and a subtle twist of his mouth that signified his delight in her.

Chapter Three

The pantry shelves held a multitude of Mason jars, chicken filling some of them, beef and gravy in others, but nothing there seemed to appeal to Joy this morning. She thought of the ham hanging in the smokehouse, the venison hanging on the porch from the latest buck that had stood in her meadow and dared her to take aim in his direction. She’d performed the task ruefully, not looking forward to the chore of dressing out the animal and then dragging it to the yard to wash the meat at the horse trough.

The best part had been the fine hide she’d hung and cleaned, thinking of the slippers and, perhaps, a vest she might make from its soft leather. She’d cooked stew from a hindquarter, sliced slabs from the roasts and spread them out in a flat pan to freeze and even ground up scraps to make venison sausage they had for breakfast when the pork supply ran low. Perhaps a chunk of stew meat would be good for dinner. There were potatoes and carrots left in the cellar, along with several squashes and the pumpkin she planned to cut up and cook for pies for Christmas dinner.

And somehow the thought of Christmas held new visions of cheer as she contemplated cooking for more than just herself and Grandpa. There were several leftover bits of yarn in her knitting basket, surely enough to make a pair of mittens and a cap to match for Joseph. It would be a hodgepodge of colors, but she doubted the boy would mind, so long as the end results kept him warm.

“I think I’ll go out to the porch and cut off a piece of venison for stew,” she said, turning to watch as Gideon wiped the table clean.

“Can I do that for you? It’ll save you getting cold again, and if you’ll tell me how large a piece you need, I’m sure I can handle the job.” His words halted her as she reached for her coat and shawl and she turned to face him, a smile wreathing her face.

“I can see that you’ll come in right handy, sir. I need a piece about the size of that kettle there,” she told him, pointing at her medium saucepan.

“Sounds good to me,” Gideon answered, then reached for his coat and pulled on his hat. Joy found her large butcher knife and handed it to him, then watched as he went out to the porch. It was overcast, with snow still falling, but the light from the kitchen was sufficient to see from the window where he reached for the hanging venison and sliced deftly at it, cutting loose a large piece that would fit readily into her stew pot.

She went to the door to take the meat from him, then sent him back out to the cellar to fetch vegetables for tonight’s dinner. He turned away and held the porch post as he went down the steps and headed for the cellar door next to the porch, careful not to slip and fall on the snow that had already coated the slick wood.

In less than five minutes he reappeared, holding the kettle she’d given him to fill. It almost overflowed with the vegetables she’d asked for, and she opened the door to allow him entrance as he stomped his feet to leave the snow behind on the porch. Again he shook his coat outdoors before he hung it on the hook, and she decided he’d been trained well by some female.

“How far west did you plan to travel, Gideon?” she asked, wondering if his memories were happy ones or if he’d decided to start a new life with his son because of overwhelming sadness in his past. “I know the weather came on quicker than you’d thought it would, with an early winter setting in and putting a stop to your trek.”

“I’d hoped to get closer to the Rockies before winter,” he said. “There’s a lot of land west of here waiting for a man to homestead it.”

“Perhaps you could find a place left behind by folks who have headed back East. There are places like that for sale hereabouts at good prices. Some of them only want the taxes paid.”

“I fear I’m going to have to stay in the area until the snow clears and it’s safe to travel with Joseph. I’d hoped to get farther west in my travels, but if you wouldn’t mind a couple strangers to tend to, we’d surely appreciate staying in the room you mentioned upstairs for the time being. We can pay our own way, for I’ve got a bit of money saved up, plus what I made from the sale of our house.”

His words were welcome ones, though she hadn’t planned on having houseguests. A pair of strong arms to handle the snow shoveling and a willing man to do the chores sounded like manna from heaven this morning.

“I don’t expect you to take me at my word,” Gideon said. “I had my pastor back home write me a letter of introduction and the banker there vouched for me in his note. I didn’t know if I might need some sort of credentials when I found a place to stop. I’ll be glad to show them both to you, Joy, and to whomever you think might be able to verify my word.”

And those papers he spoke of might be faked, she thought cynically, but a long look into the blue eyes that met her own gave her a feeling that they weren’t. He looked like a man of his word. A fellow in search of somewhere to stay until he could find a more permanent place to set down his roots and raise his son.

* * *

Bedtime came at dusk, for Joy had learned to be stingy with the kerosene that fueled the lamps. She curled in the middle of her bed, her thoughts of the man and boy sleeping in the loft enough to warm her. If Gideon took over the chores, she’d have time to spend with his son. Joseph looked to be needing the touch of a woman in his life, and Joy felt a tenderness toward the boy she couldn’t explain.

She awoke at dawn, sliding from the warmth of her quilts to don her dress and wrap a shawl around her shoulders before she made her way to the kitchen. There she found Gideon, busy adding small logs to the fire he’d banked in the stove last evening.

“Good morning,” he said in his low, almost husky voice. “Thought I’d beat you to the punch and have your stove ready to cook on when you got up.”

“I surely appreciate it, Gideon. I’m used to doing everything myself, and though I don’t mean to sound like I’m complaining, I’ll have to admit it will be a pleasure to have some help.”

“I’ll head out to the barn while you fix some breakfast. I heard your grandfather moving around upstairs, so he should be down right shortly. Joseph slept like a log last night and I may have to shake the sheets to get him up when I come in.” As he spoke, he donned his heavy coat, pulled down the knitted hat he wore to cover his ears and the shawl Joy wore outdoors, tucking it around his throat and across his chest beneath his coat.

From the pantry, Joy called out softly, “I’ll have this ready in half an hour or so, and if you’re not in by then, I’ll hold it in the warming oven.”

As Joy prepared breakfast, she looked through the window and caught a glimpse of Gideon shoveling his way to the barn. He moved more quickly this time, tossing fresh snow to either side as he went. The path from last night was still visible, but at least another six inches of snow had fallen.

From upstairs she heard Grandpa’s voice mingling with the youthful tones of Joseph. After a few minutes they made their way down the stairs, the boy holding Grandpa’s arm as if he would keep him erect with his childish strength. Grandpa made a big fuss of him when they arrived in the kitchen, sitting down at the table, Joseph taking the chair next to his.

“This young’un will sure enough come in handy, Joy. He gave me a hand with putting my slippers on and helped me down the stairs.”

Joy smiled, pleased at Grandpa’s welcoming words. Joseph beamed his pleasure as he listened to every syllable passing the old man’s lips. “I like to help when I can,” he said. “My pa says the good Lord expects us to do our best and always lend a helping hand.”

“Your father is a smart man, I’d say,” Joy told him, turning from the stove to smile at him. “He’ll be in shortly for breakfast, probably by the time the biscuits are done.”

“Are we gonna stay here with you?” Joseph asked the old man next to him.

“As long as this weather lasts, I’d say. Your pa will be a big help to Joy. Gettin’ back and forth in the snow is too much for a woman. Joy’s been doing it all along, but if your pa wants to help and ease her load, I’d surely appreciate it.”

The backdoor rattled open and Gideon stepped inside, carrying Joy’s blue-speckled bowl in one hand. He hung his coat and Joy’s shawl on the hook by the door, and then sat to slide from his boots. “Things are looking good out there, Joy,” he said. “I found your pan on top of the chicken coop and gathered the eggs. Fed the chickens first, though, to lure them off their nests. The cow gave me almost a full bucket of milk and I put it in the milk house. Every bit of stock is fed and the barn is warm enough with the heat they put out to keep them all safe and sound.”

“I can’t thank you enough, Gideon,” Joy said sincerely. “Now, get washed up and sit down at the table. I’ll fry up the eggs and we’ll eat.”

* * *

By breakfast time a few days later, the snow was piled up higher than the windows. Finished with his meal, Gideon leaned back in his chair and shot a look at Joy. He was amazed at how quickly they’d settled into a routine, almost like a real family. And now his suggestion would make it feel even more so.

“If you’ve a mind to, we could head out across the meadow after a bit and see to cutting you that tree you’ve got your eye on, ma’am. The wind’s died down some and I think we could make it without any trouble.”

Joy’s heart skipped a beat as she thought of the thrill of decorating the pine she’d marked as her own. “That would be such fun, Gideon. I’d about given up hope of a Christmas tree this year. If you could make that particular dream come true, I’d be most grateful.”

“Can I go, too, Pa?” Joseph wanted to know. His face glowed as he considered the joy of having a real Christmas, tree and all.

“I fear not, Joseph. It’ll be all we can do to make our own way out there, and besides, Grandpa here needs you inside to keep an eye on things while Joy and I are gone.”

“That’s right, sonny.” Grandpa’s words were firm as he backed up Gideon’s stance. “I need somebody to look after me a bit and tote things hither and yon. Maybe you’d like to watch me whittle something to hang on the Christmas tree once your pa drags it into the house.”

“I’d like that, sir,” Joseph said, rising to stand by Grandpa’s chair. “Can I go get your whittling stuff for you?”