A Cheyenne Christmas Read online

  Her brows shot up. Oh! He was an Indian! She turned to him, excited, “Why, that’s so interesting! Can you tell me about—”

  He shook his head to cut her off. “No ma’am, I’m sorry. My mother was a half-breed, and I was born a bastard.” He obviously thought to shock her, but she didn’t let anything other than polite interest show on her face. “I get all the prejudice and hate, but don’t know anything about the Indians in these parts. Or any parts.”

  Well. How was one supposed to respond to that? “I’m sorry.”

  He shrugged, his nonchalance not quite believable. “No big deal, I stay out of town as much as possible, and no one bothers—” His gaze was suddenly arrested by something down the street. She couldn’t tell where he was looking, but she could feel his alertness. “Aww, hell.” He turned to her, tipped his hat, and muttered “Nice meeting you, ma’am” as he brushed past to hurry down the steps to his horse.

  A roar stopped him. Striding down the street was the largest man Molly had ever seen, even at this distance. His jacket stretched across shoulders impossibly wide, and his legs were well-muscled. He had a thick beard that covered all but his eyes, but she could see them in the shadow of the ubiquitous brimmed hat everyone seemed to wear out here. He wasn’t wearing any guns, like she’d heard some men did, but he didn’t look like he’d need any. One arm was tucked tightly against his side, but the other was fisted, and he looked angry enough to do some damage.

  Oh Lord, he was coming this way. Nate sighed, and stepped into the center of the road. The few pedestrians hurried to get out from between them, and Molly was struck with the oddest sensation that she was watching some sort of showdown. Was this the trouble Nate was running from?

  Then her suspicions were confirmed. The giant rocked to a stop, and roared again, loudly enough that even she flinched. “Nathanial Barker! I’m going to beat you black and blue!”

  And suddenly she was too angry to be frightened of this monster. How dare he threaten such a sweet boy? Certainly, she didn’t know the entire story behind this trouble, but even if it was the worst possible, there was no need to threaten such extreme violence. For goodness’ sakes, Nate wouldn’t be able to stand up to even one of the giant’s blows, and here he was being intimidated with more than that!

  Incensed on Nate’s behalf, she dropped her bag, hitched up her skirts, and hurried down the stairs. Nate had just opened his mouth to call back, when she moved to stand in front of him.

  She put as much authority into her voice and bearing as possible, refusing to let this monster see how she was quaking. “Shame on you, sir! Bullying a young man like this!”

  The giant didn’t respond, didn’t move, but she heard Nate sigh behind her. “Mrs. Murray—”

  “It’s ‘Miss’, actually.” She didn’t know why she was bothering to whisper back, at a time when any moment the brute in front of them could choose to end their lives, but it seemed important.

  “Fine, Miss Murray. This really isn’t something—”

  “You about done hiding behind a woman’s skirts, kid?” This roar was less powerful; she could hear the smile in the brute’s voice and could feel Nate bristling behind her. He touched her once, on her elbow. “’Scuse me, ma’am,” as he stepped around her.

  And then to her surprise, he started walking towards the giant! She held up a hand to stop him, but then shut her mouth thoughtfully. Molly had always known what was best, and right, but here in Cheyenne there might be other rules. This was a whole new world, and she was the newcomer. She didn’t know what was normal, or what was right.

  When Nate stopped a few feet from the giant, Molly wished she could hear what was being said. There were one or two exchanges, and then the brute’s free arm shot out and grabbed Nate by the front of his jacket. Before she could shout a warning, he had pulled the boy towards him, their noses only inches apart, and he was punctuating his low tirade with shakes. Nate was just standing there, being yelled at.

  Molly was appalled that her instincts had been right, that this man wanted to do harm to Nate. She picked up her skirts to hurry down the street packed with muddy snow, not sure what she would do when she reached the pair. But then, suddenly, he rules changed again.

  The stranger dropped his hold on Nate’s jacket, and instead pulled the boy into as fierce a hug as Molly had ever seen. The boy stood stiffly for a long moment, and then wrapped his arms around the giant.

  And there they stood, in the sludge of the Cheyenne streets, hugging. Molly, still holding her skirts out of the snow, slowly walked back towards the depot, glancing back often. She’d learned an important lesson within her first moments in Cheyenne: things weren’t always what they seemed.

  She wished she could say goodbye to Nate, but she’d embarrassed herself enough for one afternoon. Instead, she turned her attention to arranging transport for her trunks to a suitably inexpensive hotel, and finding the job that would keep her and her sisters from starving.

  CHAPTER TWO

  She was feeling optimistic the next morning. She’d been able to find a hotel that seemed respectable enough, while not so expensive as to deplete her funds. She’d be able to stay here for a few days, while she found a boarding house for her and the girls. Now the challenge was going to be to find someplace that would hire an unmarried woman as a cook, or preferably a baker.

  As such, she was wearing one of her nicer dresses, a gray wool with matching jacket that always made her feel more elegant than she really was. Molly was striding determinedly for the front door when she was stopped by a familiar voice calling her name.

  There, tucked in one of the alcoves at a table set for two, sat Nate and the giant. The boy looked none the worse for wear after yesterday’s ordeal, and in fact had a grin on his face. After making sure he was hale and hearty, her gaze swept to his companion.

  Had she thought him big before? Up close, he was tremendous! They’d both stood up when she joined them, and Molly had to tilt her head back to look into his eyes. She was tall enough that most men stood eye-to-eye with her, but this… this brute was half a head taller still. Without his hat, she could see that he had the same dark hair as Nate, but the similarities ended there. His face was covered in a thick, bushy beard that hid everything but a set of remarkably soft gray eyes. They seemed almost… gentle, which didn’t match the breadth of those shoulders barely encased in a plaid blue shirt. His left arm was in a sling, but he’d seemed to be managing his steak and eggs well enough when she’d arrived.

  She knew her acknowledging nod to him was wary, but she couldn’t help it. She was embarrassed by her foolish actions yesterday, but still didn’t understand what had happened.

  Nate seemed to sense her confusion. “Miss Murray, this is my brother, Ash Barker. He owns a spread out of town about a half-day’s ride. He’s been working it since before Cheyenne was even here.”

  His brother? Well, she supposed that answered that question. Whatever Nate had done to anger Mr. Barker didn’t mean the man didn’t still love the boy, which explained the yelling and the hug. Lord knew she’d been tempted to scream and shake Wendy more than once when the silly girl burned dinner yet again, but that didn’t mean she didn’t love her sister.

  She sighed, embarrassed further at the knowledge that Nate had never been in any real danger from this man, and stuck her hand out for a shake, prepared for a bone-crushing grip. But his hand was surprisingly warm and gentle when it cupped hers, and his face remained impassive. He really was intimidating, wasn’t he?

  “Molly Murray, Mr. Barker. I’m sorry for my presumption yesterday.” She knew she was blushing in embarrassment, but forced herself to apologize anyhow.

  “Call me Ash, please.” And then, with the suddenness of a summer storm, a flash of white teeth among that beard. “I appreciated you looking out for the kid.”

  Oh my. That smile was… Well, Molly felt herself getting warm. Mr. Barker’s—Ash’s smile was remarkable; it made him less intimidating, much more approachable.
And entirely too handsome by half. Molly had never allowed herself to notice how attractive a man may or may not be, determined to remain focused on her goal of supporting her sisters… and if she had noticed anyone, it certainly wouldn’t have been a man so large and hairy and daunting. But that smile was definitely noticeable, even though it’d been there and gone in a flash. It made him… well, it made him downright handsome.

  She thought she might have nodded, and he politely continued. “And what brings you to Cheyenne, Miss Murray?”

  His voice was low, and made her want to shiver. She told herself to quit being a ninny, lifted her chin, and forced herself to focus on what he was saying. “I’m looking for a job. I don’t suppose you know of anyone who is looking to hire a cook, or possibly a baker? Any restaurants or bakeshops?” She couldn’t help the hopeful twinge in her voice.

  Ash looked over at Nate, who shook his head. Turning back to her, he said in that deliciously low voice, “No ma’am, sorry. But then, we don’t come into town much more than once a month, so we wouldn’t know about any openings. I’m sure you’ll find what you need, though.” He flashed that smile again, and Molly’s eyes went wide. Heavens, he was disarmingly attractive when he did that.

  And so she was a little rattled when she nodded distractedly and extracted herself from their company as quickly as possible. It was her first day in her new hometown. She needed all of her wits about her to find a job to sustain them through the winter. She certainly didn’t need to be distracted by the memory of Nate’s brother’s flustering smile.

  Still, she was grinning as she stepped out onto the sidewalk and adjusted her hat, determined to find her place in this bustling town.

  By late that afternoon, however, her optimism had dwindled. It seemed that there was just a limited number of options available to a young, unmarried woman, even here in such a large town. Why, some of the people she’d inquired had even suggested that she apply at one of the local whorehouses! She was utterly appalled, but had run into that attitude in Omaha and North Platte. She’d hoped, however, that because Cheyenne was larger, there would be more opportunities. She’d give it another day or so of looking, but she was becoming disheartened.

  Why was it so difficult for people—men, especially—to employ a young woman? There were women her age who worked as maids in grand households, and she was even willing to take such a job, if she could find it. But what she really wanted was to be employed as a cook.

  She loved to cook, to bake especially. Cookery was like a big puzzle, and each way she figured out to combine ingredients resulted in new and interesting meals. Her mother had been an amazing cook, and had taught Molly well, even before her remarriage to a baker. Miles Murray had accepted both mother and daughter, and they helped him build his bake shop into a grand success. When Molly had been nine, her mother gave birth to Wendy, and Molly had finally had the little sister she’d coveted.

  The four of them had been happy enough; they worked hard, even little Wendy, to make Papa’s shop successful. It had been the happiest years of Molly’s young life, working beside her stepfather, learning new ways to create delicate morsels of sugary heaven and thick, heavy rolls and everything in between. She’d often wondered if she’d only thrown herself into his interests to gain his attention, but she’d quickly come to appreciate her own talent and love of baking.

  And then, when she’d been fifteen, and ready to start thinking about her future as a wife and mother, her own mother had died shortly after bringing another baby girl into the world. She’d miscarried several times, and this last pregnancy had taken its toll. Little Annie was weak and fragile, and not expected to last longer than her mother, but she did. Molly and Papa had to work long hours at the bakery, and Wendy helped take care of the baby. But at three years old, Annie caught the German Measles from a neighbor boy, and passed it to her sisters. They all recovered, but the high fever had left precious, delicate Annie mostly deaf.

  Even then, Molly hadn’t been sure if Papa could handle such a blow, not with his struggle to support his daughters and his bakery. Those years had not been easy, and they grew harder still, when the Great Chicago Fire took their father and livelihood away. Annie had been sick, and Molly was home tending her, the day the bakery went up in flames. Papa hadn’t escaped.

  The three of them coped as well as they could, but Wendy, at ten, was too young to work, and Molly had to keep her well-supplied with the books she loved and the medicine Annie always seemed to need. She’d spent four long years cooking breakfasts and luncheons at a hotel, and fending off the advances of the male guest. She’d been let go several months before after an altercation with a guest who grew angry when she didn’t want to accommodate his baser desires. Without references, she’d been unable to find another job in Chicago. They had enough money saved to pay two more month’s rent for Wendy and Annie, and Molly’s journey to find work elsewhere. She’d hoped that someplace among the cities of the West, where society was just forming, she’d be able to find work doing what she loved.

  But no, it seemed that even here, she was going to have a difficult time earning money. There were plenty of female cooks, but they were all old enough to be someone’s grandmothers, and looked it too. Molly briefly wondered if she became fat and jolly, would that help her gain the work she wanted? Apparently the only thing someone of her age was good for was marriage—or more unsavory arrangements.

  Molly would not be marrying, not just to find a place in the world. She knew she was too tall, too large all over, to appeal to a man. Why, she was taller than many of the men she saw in the street, and she was used to the stares. Her mother had been tall, and her father must have been even taller, because she often met men she thought she could lift under one arm. No, there’d be no marriage for her, and no whoring either.

  She’d find a job! She had to.

  She’d originally thought to focus on only those establishments selling food, but after multiple rejections she started asking at every storefront, in case they were hiring help. Most turned her down immediately, but the pause some store clerks gave before shaking their heads told her that they might have been hiring, but wouldn’t hire her.

  The last establishment, a storefront that apparently sold leather goods—as if Molly had any idea what to do with leather after it came off the cow!—had been like that. And now there was only one more left on this street, before she crossed to the next. It had been a long day, with the wind biting through her jacket, plucking at her bonnet and pulling at her simple arrangement of curls. She was tired, and wanted to return to the hotel to nurse a cup of tea and sulk; but she had to press on, to find a place for the winter.

  She stopped in front of the final store, to read the large billboard announcing “Jn. A. Bullard and Sons’ Dry Goods”. She sighed briefly, and then straightened her back, plastered a polite smile on her face, and pushed through the door, making the little bell tinkle happily.

  The whole place was decorated for Christmas, and Molly felt a pang of regret. They hadn’t truly celebrated Christmas since the Fire, and it hadn’t been the same since Mama had passed away. But just the smell of the boughs hanging from the rafters and the cinnamon tucked between the holly berries lifted her spirits. It was a hopeful sign, a happy sign. Maybe this year would be the one, after all, in which her sisters were able to celebrate Christmas. Did they even remember how to celebrate?

  A smaller voice wondered; did she?

  CHAPTER THREE

  Ash passed his brother another tin of peaches. Nate frowned at it, but tucked it into the basket he carried anyway. Ash couldn’t blame him; he was getting sick of canned food too. The two of them had a long conversation over breakfast that morning, and Ash figured they’d reached an accord. They’d stopped arguing at least, and seemed to be taking steps to forgive and forget. Nate had been almost surprised to witness Ash’s anger at his departure, but then got defensive. It took a good long while for the fool to figure out that Ash was so angry because he’d been
terrified of the things that could have happened to Nate, alone in Cheyenne. His younger brother shut up after that.

  It was then that Ash realized he’d never told Nate that he was more than just some kid he’d taken care of all those years. Ash viewed Nate as his brother, and loved him. And so, in a conversation as awkward as anything either had experienced, he’d told Nate that. And now they were pretending that conversation—and the argument that had preceded the whole thing—had never happened. They were back to their companionable silences, and being able to communicate entire conversations with just a word or two. After years of living together, Ash hadn’t realized how attuned they were to each other, until the rift formed. It was nice to have his kid brother back.

  It’d been after noon by the time they got all that worked out, and it’d be silly to head out into the weather that late in the day, when it’d be well after dark when they got home. So they opted to spend another night in town, and spend the afternoon running errands. Ash stopped in to let Doc Sanderson check out his arm, and now they were doing some shopping. They had to replenish the dry goods they were eating through so quickly, and Ash knew that they were eating through his savings at the same rate. Nate left him at the pallets of canned foods, and went to go ogle the candy selection.

  Bullard’s place was all decked out for the season, but Ash didn’t pay the decorations much attention. He never really had, not being one to make a big deal out of Christmas. He hadn’t done anything to celebrate until Nate came along, and since then their only celebration had been to head into town—weather permitting—for the Christmas sermon and a good meal. But Nate seemed interested in the festive decorations, and Ash wondered if the kid was looking to do up their place likewise.