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Colt grinned. “Some think so.”
Macpherson chuckled. “I expect that’s your way of saying you got a reputation to uphold.”
“Could be.” He measured for the next shelf.
“If you’re as good as you say, you might consider signing on with the Eden Valley Ranch.”
Colt gave a snort of laughter. “Don’t recall saying I was good.”
“That’s what made me figure you were.” Macpherson grinned at Colt.
Colt kept his attention on his work. Seems Macpherson liked him a whole lot better when he wasn’t around his daughter. Nothing surprising about that. Colt didn’t suppose it would ever change. Yet the way Becca smiled at him, the way she spoke to him, her look and words so inviting...
He realized he grinned foolishly at a length of board and stilled his silly thoughts. But it took more than the normal habit of pushing aside his feelings to quiet his heart.
A customer came into the store, and Macpherson left to wait on him.
Colt continued working steadily throughout the afternoon. But his disobedient thoughts kept harking back to Becca—the way she spoke so gently and kindly to the children, the way she smiled at him.
He paused, a hammer dangling from his hand. His experience warned him that the children’s future would be unlike this visit here. How happy would they be? At least the teacher would give them a home. He could only hope—and perhaps, pray—they would find much more in her care.
Marie stepped into the room and smiled up at him. “Miss Becca says to come for supper.”
Colt hesitated. Was he only making things worse for her and Little Joe by accepting Becca and her pa’s kind invitation? But what could he do? He’d given his word.
His choices were either stay and guard his heart, or leave and break his word—and likely two tiny hearts. Really no choice at all. He followed Marie into the store.
Becca stood in the doorway, favoring them all with a shining smile. “It’s ready and waiting. Marie helped with the potatoes.”
“Well, then.” Macpherson rubbed his hands together. “We’d best see if she did a good job or not.” He nodded at Colt. “Come along.”
Colt’s feet felt like lead and his heart clenched with a well-developed caution, but how could he refuse with Marie looking pleased with herself and Becca smiling a welcome? It wasn’t as if her father seemed reluctant. Maybe he should accept this blessing for now. Then he would go back to being Colt Johnson, a loner half-breed.
“Let’s taste those potatoes.”
He scooped Little Joe into his arms and followed after Marie and Macpherson. The warmth of the room, full of savory smells, welcomed him as no other meal had. Only he knew it wasn’t the room or the scents. It was Becca’s smile.
Simply the politeness of a well-bred woman, he reasoned. No need for him to think it meant anything else.
They sat down and waited as Macpherson said grace, then Becca saw to passing the food around. A richly flavored pot roast, boiled potatoes in odd clunky shapes, gravy and turnips.
Marie watched him carefully as he took a scoop of the potatoes and poured on gravy.
“Yum. These are the best potatoes I’ve ever had.” And they were. He understood it had nothing to do with the flavor of the food, but everything to do with two pairs of eyes—Becca’s blue ones and Marie’s black—observing him. As if his opinion mattered a great deal.
He tried in vain to bring his thoughts into rational order, but they tripped along their merry path, undeterred by his silent warnings.
He pushed aside the mental warfare to address the eager-eyed child. “You did a fine job, Marie.”
She wriggled with pleasure and turned to Macpherson for his opinion.
“I do believe Colt is right. Best potatoes ever.”
Marie practically glowed, and Becca looked as pleased as if she had received the praise herself.
A most generous woman. A very unusual woman. He couldn’t see her fitting in back east, though his only way of judging that was through the people he’d met from that direction. Mostly stiff, judgmental individuals who saw Colt and those like him as oddities, or much worse.
His skin tightened as he recalled the name a pair near the fort not so many days ago had applied to him. Dirty savage.
The meal over, he sprang to his feet to walk to the window. Marie scampered from her chair and insisted on helping with the dishes.
He listened to Becca instructing her, sweetly and patiently. Kindly.
“It’s dark already.” He hoped forcing his thoughts to the outdoors would eliminate any possibility of thinking of things he shouldn’t be.
Becca hung the towel and came to his side to look out into the night.
“Look at all the stars. They’re so beautiful. I wonder if it was like this the first Christmas night.”
He forced his gaze to remain on the scene through the window. It took supreme effort not to look at Becca. But even without seeing her, he pictured her starry eyes and beaming smile.
How was he going to get through the next few days without letting her sweetness shatter the protection he’d built around his heart?
Chapter Five
Becca barely contained her desire to dance across the floor. Christmas at home with her pa, Colt and the children. If she never got another Christmas present in her life, she would die content with this one.
She couldn’t stop grinning as her mind twirled with plans. But her joy stuttered as she watched Colt retreat to the far corner and hunker down beside the kids. She guessed it wasn’t a desire to play with them that took him there, but why did he act as if staying would be an ordeal?
Well, she’d prove to him it wasn’t. She’d make this the best Christmas ever for him, too.
She waited until the children curled up on their mats and fell asleep to signal Pa and Colt to the table. “Let’s make plans.”
Colt leaned back as if he wanted no part of this. “I wouldn’t know what to do.”
“What would you normally do?” She hoped he’d share a special memory.
He blinked hard then grinned. “Normally I would ride out to the prettiest place I could find and enjoy nature.”
“Alone?” She sounded as shocked as she felt.
“Nature is the best company I know of.”
She tilted her chin upward. “I intend to prove you wrong. We’re pretty fine company, aren’t we, Pa?”
“Your ma seemed to think so.”
Becca’s smile slipped at the mention of her mother, then she dismissed any sadness and regret. She’d been offered a reprieve. Even if it was only temporary, she intended to make the most of it.
“You must have done something fun and special during Christmas. After all, you’re—how old are you?”
“Near as I can figure, I’m about twenty-one.”
Near as he could figure? Didn’t he know anything for certain about his past? “There you go. In twenty-one years you must recall something special.”
His jaw tightened and he looked stubborn. She wondered if he meant to deny any such knowledge, then he gave a little chuckle.
“I was once given a wild, rank horse. I expect it was more of a joke than any kindness, but by spring I had a mount that many a man envied.”
She sighed in a way meant to be long-suffering. “Not exactly the kind of thing I think would be useful in planning Christmas for the children. I have a few ideas, though.”
She turned to Pa. “With your permission—”
“Child, do whatever you’d like. I’m sure we’ll all be pleased.”
She nodded. “I do believe you will.” Her head buzzed with ideas.
Pa yawned. “Time for bed.”
Becca sprang to her feet. “Good night to you both.” She paused at her room. “I can hardly wait until morning to put my ideas into effect.”
* * *
The next morning, Becca hurried from bed, her head full of plans. Colt had not looked nearly as enthusiastic as she would wish, but she’d soon change that.
As soon as breakfast was over, she asked the others, “Have any of you made taffy?”
The children shook their heads, and when she shifted her gaze to Colt he blinked.
“Me?”
“Have you?”
“No.” He sounded far more cautious than curious, which made her even more determined to make this the most fun he’d ever had.
“My ma taught me how to make pulled taffy. She made it every year for Christmas. I didn’t realize how good she was at it until we went to Toronto and her family begged her for a taffy pull.” She spoke to Pa as he headed for the store and the hope of customers. “Did you know she was the best candy maker?”
“It’s why I married her. Didn’t you know?” His eyes twinkled and she laughed.
“But didn’t you say it was because she made the best rice pudding? Oh, wait, wasn’t it because she baked the best biscuits, or was it because she had such a nice reading voice?”
“Yup. And lots more.”
Becca held his gaze a moment as they both silently acknowledged how much they missed her. Then Pa stepped into the store.
“Pa, don’t you want to take part in the candy making?”
He paused and sucked in air. No doubt the activity carried bittersweet memories for him. But Becca wanted so much for him to remember the good times they’d had and cherish them. A wish she had for everyone in the room.
“Call me when it’s time to pull it, and I’ll come back if I’m not busy with customers.” He turned to smile at Becca. “It will remind me of all the times I helped your mother.”
“She’d want to know you remembered all she taught you.”
She and Pa smiled shared love of her mother, then he closed the door behind him.
Becca glanced at Colt. He jerked his attention to a spot behind her, but not before she caught a glimpse of hunger, as if he liked hearing her talk about her mother...maybe he enjoyed hearing about a regular family. She made herself another promise—she’d show Colt what it was like to be in a family.
She pulled out the kettle Ma had always used. “The first time I remember Ma making taffy, I was about Marie’s age. We had just moved west. Ma had a job as a teacher in Fort Benton. She made taffy for the children on the last day of school before Christmas. I remember feeling so proud because all the children seemed to think she’d done something special.” She poured the sugar, water and vinegar into the kettle as Marie watched her every move. Colt stood back, Little Joe in his arms.
“Bring him closer so he can watch.” She saw eagerness in both expressions but Colt did not move, even though Little Joe wriggled, trying to force him to do so. She held Colt’s gaze, feeling his caution and reluctance. Her determination to give him good memories intensified. “Better pay attention in case you ever want to make this.”
At that he relaxed and chuckled. “Horses seem to think carrots are candy.” But he sidled closer to observe the ingredients in the kettle, close enough that she could feel him alongside her, even though they didn’t touch.
“It’s beginning to boil. Now we don’t stir it or jar it until it’s reached hard-ball stage. In the meantime, we get ready.” She pulled out the large pan her mother had always used. “It needs to be buttered. Marie, why don’t you and Little Joe do that?”
Colt put Little Joe at the table beside his sister, and Becca showed them how to dip their fingers in the butter and spread it on the pan.
“Can’y ready?” Little Joe asked.
“No, now we wait.”
When the boy moved toward the stove, Colt lifted him into his arms and held him where he could see but not grab the kettle.
“It takes time to cook,” Becca warned the anxious trio. She dropped a bit of the candy mixture into a cup of cold water. It dissolved as she pressed it with the spoon. “Not ready yet.”
“Why do you do that?” Colt asked.
She explained that it indicated how hot the syrup was. “When it stays in a little ball, then it’s ready to take off the stove.” She noticed with warmth that he forgot to be reserved with her. “It takes a bit of practice to recognize the right degree, but Ma taught me well. I’ll try and do the same for you just in case you decide to treat the horses.” Or maybe decide to get some people friends. But she kept that thought to herself rather than drive him back into his shell.
She’d gladly—willingly—be his friend. But she couldn’t even offer that. She’d made a promise to her mother and was obligated to keep it. She checked the syrup again. “See how the little ball stays in shape?” She tipped the cup of water toward Colt for him to study. “When I take it out and press it, it holds its shape.” She held out her hand. “See for yourself.”
Colt extended a finger, and she slipped the candy onto it.
Flesh on flesh sent a jolt through her. She wanted to prolong the touch, examine her reaction, analyze the accompanying emotions—excitement, aliveness—but Colt, oblivious to her reaction, pulled away and felt the candy.
“That’s amazing.”
Yes, it was, though she understood he meant how the texture had changed. But what amazed and pleased her was the way he’d forgotten to be nervous and distant around her.
Little Joe leaned forward, his mouth open, his tongue out, begging to taste the sample.
“Can he eat it?” Colt asked.
“Certainly,” Becca answered.
Colt let the boy lick up the candy, and Little Joe smacked his lips. “Good.” He angled toward the kettle. “More.”
“It’s not ready yet. But it’s almost time for the fun part.” She poured the mixture into the prepared pan. “We all have to wash our hands while it cools.”
