Montana Sky Christmas: A Sweetwater Springs Short Story Collection Read online

  Pepe turned to O’Reilly and grabbed his friend’s hand in both of his, pumping the man’s arm up and down. “Thank you, Phineas.”

  O’Reilly’s skin pinked up, this time from obvious gratification, not anger. “My pleasure, Pepe. Nothing like helping a friend, and getting’ back at them snooty Cobbs. Why, I stopped by the mercantile on the way to the livery, and they made me angry all over again. Those two will regret their decision, just you see.”

  Pepe started to shrug, and then relaxed his shoulders, realizing that maybe the Lord or his Blessed Mother had a hand in the Cobbs’ rejection. “I want you to take some money for the sales.”

  “No need.” His friend shook his head. “Your things are gunna draw people into the shop, and they’ll see my fancy pieces. Already sold that carved wall shelf to the man who bought the horse. You’ll be as lucky to me as leprechaun with a pot of gold.” He rubbed his beard, obviously thinking. “Well, maybe not that lucky.”

  Pepe couldn’t believe his good fortune. The fact that his friend would also benefit made everything feel just right.

  O’Reilly buffeted him on the shoulder. “What you standing around for, man? Get on back to the livery and make me some more ornaments.”

  ~ ~ ~

  On the morning of Christmas Eve, with barely two hours of what Mack called “shut-eye,” Pepe drew up the sleigh on the side of the Thompson’s two-story white ranch house. He stopped near the picket fence that framed the garden, now blanketed with snow.

  Beside him on the driver’s seat sat a big wooden crate and six smaller boxes he’d crafted from O’Reilly’s scrap lumber. He’d made the crate for the crèche, with a slotted top that could lift off. Each of the carved Falabellas, plus one surprise, reposed in its own little box.

  The side door to the house opened, and Señora Thompson, her young stepdaughter, Christine, and their housekeeper, Mrs. Toffels, hurried out the side door and down the brick path, swept clean of snow. Pepe noted with some amusement that in their haste, every person in the group had donned coats, but all had forgotten their hats and gloves.

  The plump housekeeper carried a parcel in her arms, wrapped in a knit blanket made of many colors of yarn.

  From the barn on the opposite side of the sleigh, four boys spilled out of the double doors, whooped when they saw him, and ran over to crowd against the sleigh. A few ranch hands peered out of the doorway, craning to see what was going on in the yard.

  Daniel, Señora Thompson’s son from her previous marriage, reached him first. The boy’s tan skin and darker hair and brows showed his Argentine heritage, but he had his mother’s blue eyes, now filled with curiosity. “Whatcha got in the box, Pepe?” His slanted black eyebrows pulled up in curiosity.

  The three adopted boys, both the identical twin troublemakers Señora Thompson had tamed, and the half-grown Indian with his black hair in a long tail, watched with interest.

  “Christmas secrets,” Pepe said gruffly to Daniel, hiding a smile at the eagerness on the boys’ faces.

  Señora Thompson flapped her apron at the children as if she were an ordinary housewife instead of the wife of a wealthy rancher. “Inside, all of you,” she ordered. “And no looking out the window.”

  “Aw, Ma!” Daniel wailed.

  Señora Thompson pointed toward the house. “Christine, please see that they’re occupied.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  The children grudgingly said good-bye and trudged toward the door.

  If they were puppies, Pepe thought in amusement, they’d have dragging tails and drooping ears.

  Señora Thompson watched them go. She’d pressed her lips together, as if angry, but he could tell she was trying not to smile.

  Mrs. Toffels held up the parcel she carried. “Here’s your doll, son.” With a smile, she handed the bundle to Pepe. “I thought she could use a blanket to keep her warm.”

  The blanket shrouded the doll, and Pepe laid her gently on the front seat of the sleigh. His heart was filled with gratitude. “Gracias…thank—”

  Before he could get out the words, the housekeeper held up a hand to stop him and said in a matter-of-fact voice, “I made it from odds and ends of yarn I had laying around. So don’t thank me. It’s good to get them out from cluttering up my bottom drawer. But—” She held up one gnarled finger. “I want a report about that little girl. Her expression, what she says. So you watch carefully, you hear?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He leaned over the side of the sleigh, untied a burlap bag, and fished inside, pulling out a wooden star he’d painted silver. He slipped the ornament into Mrs. Toffels’s hand. “For your Christmas tree.”

  Her smile furrowed the wrinkles on her round face. She shook her head in obvious admiration, which made her white curls flip around her face. She patted his hand and then said, “You’re a good boy, Pepe Sanchez. Merry Christmas. And to Mack Taylor, too.”

  “I’ll tell him.”

  “I have a pie in the oven. Can’t let it burn.” Mrs. Toffels turned and bustled back into the house.

  Señora Thompson eyed the boxes curiously. “I don’t dare look,” she said to him in Spanish. “Too many watching eyes around here. I’ll see them on Christmas when everyone else does.” She beckoned to one of the hands watching from the barn—a tall young man with carrot-colored hair and a gawky gait. “Charlie, please take the crate into the parlor.”

  On the way out the door, the young man tripped over his feet before staggering to a careful walk. At the sleigh, he picked up the crate with both hands, pulling it up to his chest.

  “Won’t you come in to warm yourself, Pepe?”

  “Gracias, Señora Thompson. But I wish to visit the Perez family before dark.”

  A knowing gleam lit her eyes. She nodded, piling the other boxes on top of the crate, up to Charlie’s chin. “This time, don’t trip,” she warned. She watched the young man head toward the house and then turned back to Pepe. Opening a little purse dangling from her wrist, she pulled out some bills and coins and placed them in his palm. “Six dollars, a quarter, and my thanks, Pepe Sanchez.”

  Pepe closed his gloved fingers over the money. Joined with what he’d earned from the sales at O’Reilly’s store, and the crèches he’d made for Señora Thompson’s friends, Pepe now had enough money for a marriage proposal. He wanted to yell his happiness to the sky, but instead contented himself with a wide grin.

  He lifted another small box from the seat and handed it to her. “This is for you, Señora Thompson. A present to thank you from my heart. You’re responsible for….” Pepe made a helpless gesture. “You do not know…you have changed my life.”

  “You’re the one with the talent, Pepe. I’m just glad I could help.” Señora Thompson took the box, lifted up the top, and reached in to pull out a black horse with white stockings. “Oh, Pepe,” she breathed the words, a look of admiration on her face. “Just like Bianca! Beautiful work.” She turned the horse every which way, admiring the piece. “I can hardly wait to show it to Mr. Thompson.”

  Pepe’s chest swelled with pride.

  Señora Thompson set the horse back in the box. “But that will have to wait. If I show her off now, then they might guess what I’m giving them all for Christmas.” She replaced the lid. “Although I know my husband will want one of his own. I might as well go ahead and commission a carving of Bill for Mr. Thompson’s birthday in January.”

  At her words, Pepe visualized the carving he could make of the big quarter horse. “It will be my pleasure to carve a miniature Bill for Señor Thompson,” he said in the formal tones he thought necessary to finalize a contractual agreement.

  “He’ll be pleased to receive one of your pieces of art.”

  Pieces of art. Unlike with O’Reilly, this time Pepe allowed the compliment to soak in. Warmth and embarrassment made him look away, swallow, and then look back. “Shall I carry the box into the house for you, Señora Thompson?”

  “No, don’t bother.” She gave him an encouraging smile. “I think y
ou still have a special baby doll to deliver. So you’d best get going.”

  ~ ~ ~

  In anticipation, he sped away from the ranch. As Pepe drove, he barely noticed the scarlet flash of a small red bird flitting through the snow-tipped trees. Nor did he fully appreciate the pine scent surrounding him. He didn’t feel the sting of the cold air on his face, nor the chill air creeping through the gaps of the bearskin wrapped around his lower body. Hope kept him warm throughout the two-hour long sleigh ride to the Addison’s ranch.

  The closer he drove to Lucia’s home, the more dread started to weigh on him. A herd of horses galloped through his stomach. At last, Pepe reined in before the small cabin located not far from the Addison’s big barn.

  The rickety plank cabin with no windows in the front didn’t look big enough to contain eight people. Given the size of her home, Pepe realized his room in the livery might seem big to Lucia. For a moment, he felt regret. If I came courtin’ before, maybe I would have asked for her hand sooner. Why did I wait…let another man become interested in her?

  Pepe tied the reins of the sleigh to a hitching post, promising the horse to see to his needs in just a few minutes. He noticed hoof prints in the snow near the post, and with trepidation, he saw footsteps leading from the post to the door. Hoof and footprints also headed toward the barn. The Perez family didn’t own a horse.

  Is Raul here? Am I too late?

  Pepe avoided walking in Raul’s footsteps, instead wading through the unbroken snow toward the front door. His arms were full with the gifts he’d brought. But he’d left one special present behind in the sleigh.

  Lucia’s mother answered the door before he knocked, and he wondered how she knew of his presence. She was plump with a cheerful face and graying black hair. Mrs. Perez sized him up with the same long-lashed eyes as her daughter, although her gaze was shrewd, not shy like Lucia’s.

  Lucia’s abuela, as brown and wrinkled as a dried apple, hobbled over to peer at Pepe with shortsighted black eyes, then waved at him to come in.

  Her father, thin and stooped from the hard work of gardening and ranch chores, held out his hand and welcomed Pepe to his house in Spanish. Señor Perez didn’t show any indication that he knew why Pepe was here. The man quietly told his two oldest sons, who appeared to be younger versions of their father, to go out and take care of Pepe’s horse. As they reached for their coats, the two young men jostled each other, until a sharp command from their father sent them tumbling out the door.

  Lucia’s older sister stood at the small cast-iron stove, stirring something in a pot. The familiar smells of Christmas dinner—tamales, rice, and refried beans—sent Pepe back to his childhood, and he had to fight off the nostalgia that made a grab for his chest. His stomach rumbled. A long while had passed since this morning, when he’d stopped by O’Reilly’s shop to present the wooden bull as a Christmas gift and had eaten a plate of eggs and fried potatoes with his friend.

  Pepe had grown up in a similar small, cold cabin, made bright and warm from the love of his family. Now separated by death and distance, he had to block a wave of grief for those treasured childhood times, now only memories. With a sharp stab of longing, he wanted to be part of this family…to make new memories.

  Eager to shed the pain of the past, he peered through the gloom of the cabin, looking for his Light. He found Lucia perched on a bench in front of the fireplace, Sanchia curled up at her side. On her lap, a small pile of red ribbon and lace made a bright spot of color against the gray of her dress.

  Seated across from Lucia on a stool was his rival. The sight of Raul, wearing a possessive expression, made Pepe want to stride across the room and snatch Lucia away from the handsome cowboy.

  Lucia glanced toward the doorway, and the strain on her face vanished when she saw him. A look of relief leaped into her eyes, and she gave him the biggest smile he’d ever received from her.

  Like Royal on a lead, Pepe’s awareness stayed tethered to her, even while he handed over his coat to Lucia’s older sister, as well as his cap, scarf, and gloves. He politely conversed with her elders about the sack of flour and a small bag of sugar he’d brought as gifts. When the conversation grew strained, he distributed star ornaments to everyone. The familiar cadence of his native language was another reminder of home.

  Lucia’s mother glanced over at Lucia and appeared to approve. With a shrewd look in her eyes, she gave a small nod of satisfaction, and asked Pepe to stay for dinner.

  Pepe told her he’d be delighted to join them, adding that he hadn’t tasted a home-cooked Mexican meal since his mother died. The words tripped from his tongue with surprising ease, as he assured her that if the meal tasted as good as it smelled, he’d think he’d accidently wandered into heaven.

  Lucia’s abuela chortled, and her mother gave him a playful smack on the arm. But he could see both were pleased. They flanked him as if to escort him to the table. But before they could herd him in that direction, he politely asked permission to give Sanchia the present he’d brought.

  Identical curious looks sprang to each of the women’s eyes, and they stepped back, but crowded behind him to watch the show. Pepe wove through the press of people to kneel before Sanchia and held out the dolly, wrapped in the colorful knitted blanket. Since receiving it, he hadn’t peeled back the covering to see Señora Thompson’s handiwork, and he was almost as curious as the child.

  With one finger, the girl traced a line of yellow yarn knitted into the blanket, as if she’d never seen anything so sunny. She looked up at her sister for permission to open the present. At Lucia’s nod and encouraging smile, she slowly unwrapped the bundle.

  The baby lay in splendor, wearing a pink gown and a matching cap and booties. Wonder brightened the little girl’s thin, solemn face. She whispered in Lucia’s ear, too softly for Pepe to hear. But Lucia’s gentle, “Si, Sanchia” made her grab the doll to her chest and rock her back and forth.

  The adults laughed. Señora Perez and Lucia’s abuela started to chatter in admiration.

  Tears filled Lucia’s eyes, and before Pepe had a chance to worry about his beloved’s reaction, she gave him a tremulous smile, reached out and quickly squeezed his hand. The pile of ribbon and lace slid to the floor unnoticed. “Gracias, Señor Sanchez,” she whispered. “Muchas gracias!”

  I can’t believe she touched me. His stomach knotted, Pepe forced out the important question. “Will you walk outside with me for a few minutes? I have something for you that I’ve left in the sleigh.”

  Lucia’s smile bloomed into joy, and she stood up.

  Raul reached out a hand as if to stop her.

  Prompted by instinct, Pepe growled, but in the noise of the room the sound went unheard.

  Lucia ignored Raul’s outstretched hand.

  He pulled his arm back and glowered at Pepe.

  Pepe resisted smirking at his rival, instead glancing at Señor Perez for his approval.

  The man’s face looked like a carved mahogany statue, so stern was his expression. The man studied him for what seemed like hours.

  Pepe’s enthusiasm faltered. Her father doesn’t approve of me.

  Señor Perez glanced at Sanchia, rocking her doll, then at Lucia. The look of pleading on her face must have convinced him. With a slow dip of his head, he indicated his permission.

  Pepe and Lucia bundled up in their outer garments and then headed outside to the barn. Many feet had worn a path through the snow, making the journey easy, although slushy. Pepe wished he could take Lucia’s hand, but the single back window in the cabin overlooked the barnyard. He had no doubt curious eyes followed their progress.

  During the long drive from the Thompson ranch, Pepe had rehearsed his speech, and he felt as confident of his words as a man could be at such an important time. Although he wasn’t as confident of her answer. But the last few minutes had given him some hope, adding bounce to his step.

  Inside the barn, the sturdy walls blocked the wind. Inhaling the familiar stable aroma made P
epe relax. Greatly daring, he took Lucia’s hand. Even through their gloves, he felt a charge of fire at their touch that burned all the way through him.

  Pepe felt strong, powerful even, as he led her to the sleigh. Curious horses stuck their noses over their stall doors. Normally, Pepe would have stopped for a rub and a chat with each one. Someone had hung a fat red bow on the door of a box stall. Must be one of Addison’s prize mares or stallions, Pepe absently thought, happy beyond words that he was actually holding hands with Lucia.

  Passing a stall with a particularly pungent odor of manure made Pepe falter, realizing a barn wasn’t the most romantic place to propose. Then he remembered the Savior born on this very night so long ago, and he figured if God could choose a stable for such an important miracle, he could too.

  When they reached the sleigh, Pepe picked up the burlap sack containing the Madonna and handed it to her.

  Like a child, Lucia gave an excited wiggle, and, unlike her sister, eagerly opened her present. When the sack fell away to reveal the statue, she squealed, then fell silent in obvious awe. “Pepe, she’s beautiful.”

  Lucia’s voice sounded melodious to his ears.

  “I don’t think the cathedrals in Europe have statues more lovely.”

  Pepe didn’t know anything about cathedrals in Europe, and he doubted she did either. But the sincerity of the compliment lifted his spirits. Judging the time was right, he took the Madonna from her hands and set it on top of a nearby tall stack of straw bales.

  The Blessed Virgin’s serene face gazed down upon them.

  Taking both of Lucia hands, Pepe launched into his speech. “Lucia, I’ve long admired you…”

  Lucia shyly looked down. “Only admire?” she asked, a teasing lilt in her voice.

  “Not just admired…loved.” Pepe rushed out his next line. “I’ve long thought of marriage.”

  She gave him a sideways sweep of her eyelashes and a flirtatious smile.

  Caught off guard, Pepe fumbled for the next sentence. He’d lost the flow of his speech and groped around his brain to find it.