Burke's Christmas Surprise

Burke’s second nod was interrupted by a commotion in the front of the room. A man with a limping cowboy swagger strolled to a podium and called, “Folks, would you take your seats so I can get this show on the road?”

Boots thudded and metal chairs creaked as the men and women of Jasper Gulch moseyed to their places. Taking a seat next to Doc Masey, Burke scanned the crowd. There was a lot of whisker stubble, a lot of flannel and faded denim, a lot of indentations in hair where a cowboy hat normally sat. Five rows up and a dozen seats over, a woman with wavy brown hair turned her head slightly.

Lily.

The noise receded and Burke’s thoughts froze. In some far corner of his mind he heard Doc Masey explaining how the town had been dying due to the shortage of women, and how the town council had decided to advertise for women three years ago. The names of some of the gals who had answered that ad meant nothing to Burke; his attention was trained on a woman who had grown up here.

He’d almost convinced himself that his memories had enhanced Lily’s beauty. In reality, his memories hadn’t done her justice. Her skin was as pale as he remembered, her hair was slightly shorter, waving to her shoulders instead of halfway down her back. Her smile was serene, regal. How had so much beauty gone undetected all these years? Were these ranchers and cowboys blind?

He wanted to call her name, imagined smiling as he watched recognition settle across her features. Before he could do more than lean ahead in his chair, the man at the front of the room said, “Louetta, come on up here, darlin’.”

Burke was a little surprised when Lily rose to her feet. By the time she’d wended her way to the front of the room, realization had dawned and any thought he might have had of smiling slid away.

“What’s going on?”

“That’s Wes Stryker,” Doc Masey explained. “He won the national rodeo championship two years running. The last broken bone brought him hobbling home for good. Can’t say I blame him. Trophies and awards aren’t worth a lick compared to the love of a good woman.”

“What does that have to do with Lily?”

“Who?”

Half the crowd shushed the other half. And then Wes Stryker lowered himself stiffly to one knee. Holding his hat over his heart, the former rodeo champion reached for Lily’s hand. Through the roaring din in Burke’s ears, he heard the other man say, “I know I haven’t been around much since we were kids, and I’ve got more aches and pains than men twice my age, but I’m hardworkin’, and I’d be honored if you’d agree to be my wife. What do you say? Will you marry me, Louetta?”

Why was that cowboy calling Lily “Louetta”? Burke swallowed hard and slowly rose to his feet. “That’s going to be difficult,” he called, his voice carrying over the sudden hubbub as all eyes turned to see who had spoken.

“What did he say?”

“Who is that?”

“What does he mean, it’s gonna be difficult?”

Burke’s gaze met Lily’s, and his voice faded, losing its steely edge. “It’s going to be difficult,” he repeated, “because you already promised to marry me.”

“Did he say what I think he said?” one of the old-timers asked.

“Shh,” someone called.

“Shh, yourself.”

Louetta Graham recognized the voices of people she’d known all her life, but she couldn’t drag her gaze from the man in the back of the room. White shirt, wool pants, windblown hair. Burke. With her heart beating against her chest like a sledgehammer on cement, she said, “What are you doing here?”

He stepped sideways into the aisle, his eyes never leaving her face. “I told you I’d be back.”

In two months, Louetta thought, one hand going to her neck. That’s what he’d said two and a half years ago.

“Do you keep your promises?” Burke asked quietly.

Something soft and warm nudged Louetta from inside, something she might have called hope a long, long time ago. Her heart rate quickened, her face grew hot and a traitorous softness drew her attention to the very core of her body. In her mind she saw Burke as he’d been that April night, winded from his trek into town, devastatingly rugged and handsome. She’d slipped into his hazel eyes that night, had fallen into the warmth of his rare smiles. It was happening again. She was losing herself in him, one slow inch at a time.

“What do you say?” Wes Stryker asked, rising stiffly to his feet.

“Yes,” Burke said. “What do you say?”

Louetta couldn’t believe this was happening. She’d known Wes Stryker was going to ask her to marry him tonight. She’d been rehearsing what she was going to say. He was quite a catch for a woman like her. Everyone thought so. He’d returned to Jasper Gulch a few times each year since joining the rodeo circuit when he was fresh out of school. The last set of broken ribs and the dislocated shoulder and sprained ankle he’d gotten after being bucked off and trampled by an ornery bronco had brought him home for good. At thirty-five, he said he was too old, too tired, too worn for the rodeo circuit. Rumor had it that he was looking for a wholesome woman to grow old with, one who wouldn’t run out on him the first time something better came along. Louetta had been as surprised as everyone else when he’d come a-callin’ on her. Wes Stryker didn’t make her heart chug to life, but she was pretty sure he wouldn’t break it, either.

Burke Kincaid had already broken it clean in two.

“Are you gonna marry me?” Wes’s voice finally drew her gaze. Tears blurred her vision and thickened her throat as she stared into his blue eyes. “Are you?” he repeated.

“I—I mean—I thought. But now I d-don’t—” Since stammering was getting her nowhere, she clamped her mouth shut and shrugged helplessly.

“Are you gonna marry him?” Wes asked.

Her gaze shifted from one man to the other. Burke was watching her. His eyes appeared dark from here, his hair mussed, his features striking and strong. Certain her face was beet red, she shrugged all over again.

“Hot dang, Stryker,” Boomer Brown declared from the second row. “It looks like your competin’ days ain’t over after all.”

“That’s right,” someone else declared.

“Yee-haw! Who said nothin’ ever happens in small towns? This has all the makings of a mighty interesting season.”

The dazed expression Wes usually wore these days broke for an instant, a smile spreading across his tired features as he faced the Jasper Gents. “I’m beginning to think this might just be exactly what the doctor ordered.”

“Well, what do ya know about that,” somebody else murmured loud enough for Louetta to hear. “The girl voted most likely not to by her graduating class has two—count ’em—two suitors.”

“Oh, my,” Louetta whispered, searching frantically for a place to sit down while she still had control of her feet.

“Oh, dear,” Isabell Pruitt called in her shrill, nasal voice. “I do believe Louetta is going to faint. Jed, let her have your chair. Hurry.”

Louetta sank into the chair and immediately bent over, placing her head between her knees. “There, there,” Isabell assured her, patting her arm. “That’s it. Take a deep breath. Now another. Oh, I wish your mother were here. She’d have her smelling salts with her. Doc Masey!”

Louetta felt the usual stab of pain at the mention of her mother, but since Isabell missed Opal as much as she did, Louetta tipped her head to one side and said, “I’m pretty sure Mother took her smelling salts with her to heaven. It’s all right, Isabell, I think the worst is over.”

Louetta’s voice sounded distant in her own ears, but her vision was starting to clear and she could feel her heart rate returning to normal. She sat up tentatively, and wavered Isabell a feeble smile.

That’s it, Louetta told herself. You can make it through this without causing a bigger scene.

Mind reeling, she vowed to hold herself together until the meeting ended. Then she would take the time to have the nervous breakdown she deserved. First, she would have to find the strength to send Burke on his way. Maybe then things would get back to normal. She would run her newly purchased diner, spend time with her friends, attend Ladies Aid Society meetings, organize the annual Christmas pageant and consider marrying a man she didn’t love.

That’s it. Take a deep breath. Now another. As soon as this meeting was over, she would tell Burke what she thought of him and his unannounced visit. After that, she would make her way up to her apartment. She would close the door, turn out the lights and pull the blankets over her head.

Luckily, Jasper Gulch town meetings rarely took long. Luke Carson was calling for order right now. Just as she’d thought, old business was taken care of in a matter of minutes. An argument broke out between Bonnie Trumble, who owned Bonnie’s Clip & Curl, and Edith Ferguson, who thought the town should adopt an ordinance concerning the use of certain colors of paint on the buildings lining Main Street. “The beauty parlor is neon green!” Edith exclaimed. “Why, it’s despicable.”

Personally, Louetta liked the new color. It had punch. It had pizzazz. It had personality. It got a person’s attention without saying a word. As a woman who had been a wallflower her entire life, Louetta liked those qualities, even if the beauty shop did stick out like a sore thumb. Thankfully, the issue was tabled until the following month, which meant that the meeting was nearly over.

“Now,” Luke Carson called from the front of the room, “before we adjourn, Doc Masey has something he’d like to say. Doc?”

Chairs creaked as folks folded their arms at their chests and shifted their positions. Louetta stifled a moan, because as much as she loved the old doctor, the man was notorious for making a long story unbearable. She hoped he decided to make an exception tonight. Taking his white handkerchief from his pocket, he began polishing his wire-rimmed spectacles. When he started in about how he’d been a doctor in this town for nigh on fifty years, Louetta closed her eyes and sighed.