The Cowboy Who Saved Christmas Read online

  Emery nodded. The girl was right.

  “Anna and I will go look for Trapper. If he’s hurt, we’ll get him back here.”

  Emery agreed with the plan except for one detail. “Eliza will go with you. I’ll make sure no one comes near the little girls. You may need her.”

  Eliza climbed out of the wagon, her arms full of rifles.

  A tear ran down Emery’s cheek. Three little girls, thirteen, eleven, and ten. Barely half grown, but they were now warriors.

  And, they were all better shots than she was.

  One took the lead and all three disappeared in the fog.

  Emery asked the little ones to bring her bag and sewing box. Four and Five brought them, then stood close beside her, as if it was their time to be on guard.

  While she ripped her ugly wool dress and bandaged Midnight’s leg, they both asked questions.

  Emery kept her voice low and calm. “One, Two, and Three have gone to get Trapper. We will stay here and on guard. If trouble comes, I want you both to get low in the wagon and stay silent. No matter what, don’t say a word. Just hide.”

  Five straightened. “My father says Chapmans are fighters, not hiders.”

  When she finished tying the bandage, she pulled the rope off Midnight and whispered, “Go find Trapper.”

  As if the horse understood, he turned into the fog and vanished.

  Chapter 12

  Trapper sat with his hands still behind him, waiting for just the right moment. The shadowy figure in the fog was moving. Disappearing, almost becoming solid again.

  The little man ordered the beefy boxer and one of the cowboys to saddle up. Trapper was pleased to see that the thin cowboy had a broken nose. The other cowboy close to Trapper was still cussing under his breath, like it was a twitch he couldn’t stop. He circled around him and pointed his rifle at Trapper’s face.

  “Last chance. You go in and bring the girls out to us and we’ll let you ride away.” Little Napoleon moved in close, his tone low.

  “They’re nothing to you. Five little rich girls who won’t ever amount to anything. Even if you got them back to their father, he probably wouldn’t take the time to thank you.” Napoleon shrugged. “And that little widow is nothing to no one or she wouldn’t be traveling alone. If she vanishes, no one would miss her.”

  The little man put his hands in his pockets and rocked on his heels. “You’re a good fighter, Trapper. If one of my men hadn’t slammed you in the head, you would have taken all three of them down, even Big Hank. I wouldn’t mind having a man like you in my gang.”

  “I’m finished fighting,” Trapper lied. He kept his voice low and noticed the stranger in the fog moving closer.

  With Big Hank and one of the cowboys gone to get their horses, there was a chance Trapper could shoot two of the three before they got off a shot.

  But he didn’t dare act until the rifle moved more than an inch from his head. The cussing outlaw kept tapping the barrel against his chin, as if teasing him.

  Trapper growled as he looked away from the dumbest one of the group. In the blink of a moment, he saw blond hair move just above the top of the ravine. One.

  Trapper forced his almost-closed eyes open and studied the edge of the small rise. Two’s long, auburn hair flashed and disappeared. Two. Then he saw Three, ten feet away from her sister.

  Trapper turned back to the head outlaw. “What if I did join up with you?”

  Little Napoleon looked excited at the possibility.

  To Trapper’s surprise, the short man glanced at the man in the fog. The day was warming, and the stranger wouldn’t be hidden for long.

  “If I rode with you, would I get a cut of the ransom money?”

  The short man hesitated, and Trapper knew that the true leader was in the fog, not standing before him. “Who’s the shadow in the fog?” Trapper demanded.

  “You never mind him.”

  “Oh, come on, Shorty, who is he? He’s standing right behind you.”

  “Don’t call me Shorty.”

  “Why not? I’m calling this one Drippy. Tell him to stop bleeding on me.” Trapper pointed with his head to the man with the rifle pointed between Trapper’s eyes.

  Trapper raised his voice. “If I joined, I’d have three rules. One: Get rid of the shadow, Two: Drippy is yours, and Three: Take Shorty down. Now!”

  Three guns blasted as one, ringing through the ravine like a cannonball.

  Trapper rolled to his rifle and stood. Shorty was screaming that his kneecap was shot off. Drippy had been shot in his gun arm and was struggling to lift his weapon with his left hand.

  Trapper kicked away Drippy’s gun as the girls slid down the ravine, their rifles ready to fire by the time they hit the dirt.

  When he saw Number One standing over the shadowed stranger, he limped toward her.

  “You all right, One?”

  She shook her head. “No. I know him. I think I killed him.”

  Trapper put his arm around her trembling shoulders. “Who is he?”

  “He’s the foreman at our ranch. I’ve known him all my life and he was trying to kidnap us.”

  Trapper knelt and pushed the blood away from the foreman’s forehead. “He’s not dead. You just grazed him. He’ll live long enough to hang.

  “Two,” Trapper yelled. “Grab the rope off their saddles. We’ll tie them up and doctor them later. I got to get to the wagon.

  “One, come with me. Two and Three, keep an eye on these three. I’ll be back as soon as I know the others are safe.”

  As soon as they were tied, Trapper grabbed one of the outlaws’ horses.

  Just before they rode out, he heard Three telling the prisoners that if they moved or cussed, she’d shoot their toes off one at a time.

  Trapper smiled as he rode toward the wagon. He hadn’t heard any shots coming from the wagon’s direction. That might be a good sign.

  The first thing he saw was Midnight, standing near where they’d hidden the wagon.

  Big Hank was pulling off branches and dodging rocks.

  “Stop that, lady!” Hank screamed in pain as one the size of a sharp egg hit his eye.

  More rocks rained down. Some bounced off his big frame, but now and then one hit him and left a cut.

  Trapper raised his rifle. “Step back, Hank, and raise your hands.”

  The beefy man did as he was told while rocks continued to pound on him.

  Trapper handed his rifle to Number One. “Shoot him if he moves.”

  “Yes, sir,” she answered.

  “Emery, are you and the girls all right?”

  “We are,” Number Five answered. “Can we keep throwing rocks, Tapper?”

  “Sure.” He climbed into the wagon and hugged both girls, then let them go back to throwing rocks.

  Trapper moved to Emery. He pulled her close, and they just held on tight to each other. Neither said a word. When he pulled away enough to kiss her, Trapper heard the girls giggling.

  “There’s one more man,” Trapper whispered, not wanting to frighten the girls.

  “We know,” Emery said in a normal voice. She pointed to the back of the wagon. “He must have crawled under the wagon. When he started coming into the wagon, I was busy with that giant out there.

  “The girls hit him with the chamber pot. It was full. I’m afraid the man doesn’t smell so good.”

  Chapter 13

  The next few days were hard. Trapper hurt all over. Hank had broken two of his ribs, but Trapper was able to drive the wagon by the second day. Five and Four stayed on either side of him on the front bench, wiping blood from his cuts and constantly talking about how bad he looked. The three older girls and Emery rode, surrounding the wagon as if guards.

  They passed through the edge of Dallas but didn’t stop. Number One was setting the pace and directing them over open country to her home.

  Emery had insisted on doctoring the outlaws. Then Trapper tied them in the wagon and put the luggage on their horses.


  When Number One said they were on Chapman land, Trapper thought they were home. He had no idea it would take two more days.

  As the ragged, exhausted group neared the huge ranch house, armed riders rode out to meet them.

  “What is the meaning of this? Are you drifters unaware you’re on Colonel Chapman’s land?” the leader of the not-so-friendly greeters demanded.

  Before Trapper could answer, One moved her horse forward. The young girl not fully grown sat tall in the saddle. “Are you men aware I am Catherine Claire Chapman?”

  All the men looked at her in shock.

  “We were ambushed on the trail and almost killed. We have the outlaws tied in the back of the wagon. I want you to make sure they are locked up until my father decides what to do with them.”

  Catherine rode over to the wagon and lifted little Sophia May from the bench, then looked at the man closest to her. “Give Mr. Trapper Hawkins your horse and drive the prisoners in. We’ll race to the house just like all Chapmans do.”

  All the men followed orders. One older rider, with a mustache that went from ear to ear, offered his arms to Number Four. “Come along, Miss Helen Wren, I’ll ride you in.”

  “All right, Sam,” Number Four said politely, “but while I’m here I plan to learn to ride all by myself. Will you teach me?”

  “Of course. Just like I did your three big sisters.”

  Trapper slowly climbed onto the mount he was offered, then asked the cowboy to lift up the widow to ride with him. “My horse is almost lame, can someone see to him?”

  Again the older man answered, “We’ll see to it. Mr. Hawkins, right?”

  Trapper nodded. “So you knew we were coming?”

  “We did, sir. The nurse wired us. She said you’d make it by Christmas.”

  “Did we?” Trapper had lost track of the days.

  “You did, sir.”

  Emery looked frightened when one of the men lifted her up in front of Trapper, but she obviously wanted to hold on to Trapper. All the little ladies seemed to think he might pass out at any minute.

  Number One raised her hand and pointed toward home. “We ride to home.”

  They all took off, laughing and yelling. The cowboys at the wagon raised their rifles and fired in salute. The Chapman princesses were home.

  By the time they reached the steps, everyone on the ranch was watching.

  Trapper had no problem recognizing the colonel. White beard, white hair, and standing strong and tall. For a moment he frowned, as if he didn’t know who was invading his ranch.

  Number One lowered the four-year-old to the ground and she ran toward her father. She was halfway up the steps before anyone recognized the youngest daughter.

  The colonel hugged her so hard, Trapper thought he might crush her. Within a minute all his daughters were around him, talking and hugging and laughing. He took each girl’s face in his big hands and stared at them, then smiled. No matter how bad they looked or how they were dressed, his girls were back.

  Trapper stood watching. He’d done it. He’d got them home by Christmas.

  As the chaos began to settle, Trapper wasn’t surprised to see the colonel’s eyes focused on him.

  “Mr. Trapper. I’d like to have a word with you. Now!”

  Trapper remembered what the teamster had said about the colonel threatening to kill him if the girls arrived with one scratch. The girls were all sunburned and bruised, with scrapes and blisters.

  He tried to stand up straight as he moved forward, but Number Three cut him off when she ran in front of him, almost tripping him.

  “Now, Papa,” she began, with her fists on her hips.

  The colonel pointed his finger. “What happened to your hair, Elizabeth?”

  “Never mind that. Right now Trapper needs a doctor and some rest. He is hurt and hasn’t slept in days because, even injured, he’s always watching over us.” She crossed her arms. “And I go by Eliza or Three. You’ll not lecture Trapper. I will not stand for it.”

  Anger reddened the colonel’s face. “You telling me what to do, daughter?”

  All five girls stood before him with their arms crossed and their boots set wide apart as if ready for a fight.

  Anger looked like it might explode out of the colonel. Obviously, no one ever told him what to do. No man. No woman, and certainly no daughters.

  The girls didn’t back down.

  To everyone’s surprise, the littlest one stepped closer to her papa. “We’re not taking a bath until you take care of our Tapper. He’s still dripping.”

  “Who is Tapper?” The colonel lowered to her level and his tone softened slightly.

  All the girls started explaining that Five never got the name right. And Trapper had told her she could call him by any name she liked.

  “Who is Five?” The colonel tried to yell above them.

  Then they all began with how they met on the dock.

  Finally, the colonel yelled, “Stop.” When all was silent, he said in a normal voice he rarely used, “Sam, go get the doctor.”

  “Yes, sir.” Sam smiled, obviously happy to be leaving.

  “Martha.” The colonel yelled again.

  A woman with an apron on, stepped from the crowd watching. “Yes, Colonel.”

  “Tell the kitchen to cook up a meal and keep buckets of hot water headed upstairs.” He stared at his girls. “My daughters will be taking baths and dressing properly for dinner in one hour. I’ll be busy taking care of our guests.”

  The girls all smiled and walked past their father. Each kissed him, and as they started up the stairs, Chapman grinned as if he just hadn’t lost the first argument in his life.

  When he turned back, he seemed to notice Emery for the first time. “Madam, I assume you are the girls’ traveling companion.”

  “Yes. I met them in Jefferson.”

  “I’d be honored if you’d stay with us through Christmas. Martha will send a bath to your room, and I’m sure we’ll find clothes that will fit you. I see you are a widow.”

  “Yes.”

  Trapper’s hand was resting on the small of her back, and he could feel her shaking.

  “Thank you for seeing my daughters here safely. I hope we have time to talk over dinner. It isn’t often we have such a lovely lady among us.”

  Martha took Emery away. Trapper couldn’t help but notice she hadn’t even said goodbye to him. But then, the little widow hadn’t said anything to anyone but the colonel, and that was “yes.”

  Sam moved up behind Trapper. “I’ll see you to your room, sir. The doc will be here as soon as he sobers a bit. He always comes for Christmas, but he prefers to stay in the bunkhouse.

  “We have two guest rooms through here.” Sam started down the same long hallway where Emery had disappeared.

  Trapper followed, suddenly feeling the lack of sleep catching up with him.

  “The old man was sure polite to the widow,” Trapper said to Sam.

  Sam nodded. “He’s always nice to his wives and future wives.”

  Trapper decided he’d better stay awake a bit longer.

  Chapter 14

  Emery loved soaking in the big tub. They’d made the trip in less than three weeks, but it seemed like a lifetime. Someday she’d write down all that had happened and save it for her grandchildren to read. And there would be grandchildren, because after knowing the girls, she wanted a dozen kids, all girls.

  Martha brought her a warm dress made of the softest fabric she’d ever felt. Without a word, the housekeeper took all her dirty clothes to be washed.

  Emery’s hair was clean and still wet. She combed it out and let it fall in curls down her back. When she stepped into the dining room an hour later, all the men stood.

  Her gaze was drawn to Trapper. His wounds were all doctored and bandaged. His clothes looked new. His smile was the same as it always was when he looked at her.

  Before she could take a seat at the table, the girls stepped in. They looked every bit the little lad
ies they were. Emery and Trapper remained silent as the girls entertained their father with stories of the trail.

  She noticed none mentioned the trouble they’d faced in the snowy ravine. Maybe they didn’t think it was proper conversation over dinner.

  The girls invited Emery to join them for dessert in the kitchen so the men could talk. This apparently was a ritual in the house. Martha and the kitchen help had raised the girls and they wanted their time to talk.

  Emery excused herself after two pieces of pie and retired to her beautiful room. She slipped into a nightgown far fancier than the one she’d bought at the trading post and brushed her hair until it shined.

  Then, she stepped into the hallway and tried the door across from hers. Martha had mentioned it was Trapper’s room. She wanted to check on him. He’d looked tired at dinner.

  The room was dark except for the low light from the fireplace. She tiptoed to the bed and saw he was sound asleep. The man she thought was the bravest she’d ever known finally let down his guard and slept.

  Without giving it much thought, she crawled into bed with him, rested her head on the one spot on his chest that wasn’t covered in bandages, and closed her eyes.

  They’d never talked of the future. He’d never mentioned marriage. Neither had ever said they loved the other. But there was nowhere in the world she wanted to be but by his side.

  Deep in the night, he moved and found her next to him. Without saying a word, he pulled her close and kissed her.

  When he finally pulled free, he whispered, “Am I dreaming?”

  “No, I’m here.”

  He sounded half asleep when he asked, “Will you have kids with me?”

  “No,” she answered. “We’re not married.”

  “Then will you marry me?”

  “No. You don’t know me.”

  “Sure, I do.” He moved his hand over the soft cotton of her gown. “I know the way you kiss and the way you feel and how gentle and shy you are.”

  She had to tell him the truth. The whole truth. “I’m not a widow.”

  His body tensed, and she knew he was totally awake now. “Are you saying that your husband is alive? Did he leave you? Did you leave him?”