Chrissy's Wish Read online

  He'd never thought a relationship with a woman would involve something like mutual respect. Part of his uneasiness with his thoughts last night had been because he was pretty darned mad at himself. He'd browbeaten Polly into agreeing to marry him, insisting it was the best thing for all of them. Polly was a strong woman, who had faced and overcome a lot of obstacles in her life. It took a lot to bully her, and maybe another man would've felt a certain, sneering satisfaction at subjugating her to his will. It left Sam feeling hollow — like he'd destroyed a precious, irreplaceable treasure, the only one of its kind.

  Towards morning, he had decided to let her out of their agreement. It surprised the heck out of him when he realized he couldn't follow through on that decision. He wanted her — not because of Chrissy, whom he already loved enough to lay down his life for — but because he couldn't give Polly up. She was stronger than him after all.

  "Oh, dear, Sam." Polly hurried across the kitchen and grabbed the dish rag. Moving his hand, she swiped the egg into the dish rag and shook it over the sink, then dunked the rag into the dish pan to rinse it. She tried to nudge Sam aside to finish cleaning up the goo on the counter, but he held his ground firmly.

  "Was the dear for me, or were you only using it as an expression of aversion at the mess I made?" he growled in a soft whisper.

  Her gaze swung immediately to his, and he was completely aware of exactly how many inches of her body pressed against his. His groin reacted instantly, and he could see the flicker of affirmation indicating she felt it also. Her lips slowly parted, and a faint hint of hazy desire clouded her eyes, changing the color from new-leaf to storm-tossed-sea green.

  She swallowed audibly and backed away a step. "The — uh — the egg. It's running down the front of the counter."

  "That's not the only front of something affected here," Sam whispered. "The front of my —"

  Polly's elbow hit him in the stomach, and his breath whooshed out. She gave him a wide-eyed, innocent look and murmured insincerely, "Oh, dear, excuse me. I was trying to get to the egg to clean it up."

  Sam caught his breath and threw back his head. He laughed so hard he thought his shoulders would break, but he couldn't seem to stop. Chrissy ran over from the table, and when he glanced down at her, a miniature of Polly giggled up into his face. A snicker at his side drew his gaze, and he saw Polly's shoulders shaking and her head turned away from him. Forgetting about the egg on his hand, he reached out and pulled her face around.

  "Yuck!" Polly said around her laughter. She scrubbed at her face with the dish rag, then stared down in horror at the runny traces of raw egg on it. Sam and Chrissy howled with renewed laughter. Polly's narrowing eyes and the sly smirk on her face should have warned Sam, but he was too caught up in his hilarity.

  Polly swept the dish rag across the counter and up at Sam's face. It landed in his mouth, and he spit and sputtered as she hastily backed away from him, a hand over her own mouth, which he knew darned well was open in a wide, pleased grin. Her glimmering eyes gave her away.

  Sam felt a crafty sneer spread over his face, and he picked up the bowl of eggs. He dunked the dish rag into it and held it aloft, allowing the mixture of whites and yellows to slide back into the bowl.

  "Sam!" Polly cried in a blend of revulsion and apprehension. "You're ruining the eggs."

  "You should have thought of that." Sam advanced on her a step, still holding the dish rag over the bowl. "We'll have to eat our johnnycakes and ham without eggs this morning."

  She backed up another step, then another when he took a long stride. "What ... what are you going to do?" she asked in a breathless voice.

  "I've heard some ladies use eggs for a facial." He looked down at the dish rag for a second, and Polly whirled and ran. A wildly giggling Chrissy followed on her heels. They stumbled over each other as they tried to get through the bedroom door, but finally slammed it shut. Sam could hear them giggling to beat the band on the other side of the door.

  He thumped his boots on the floor as he crossed the room. Dropping the dish rag into the bowl, he twisted the door knob. When the door swung open, he said in a sneering voice, "Ah ha! Now I've got both of you in my clutches. Who wants to be first?"

  "She does!" Chrissy pointed at Polly and scrambled back onto a corner of her bed. In one swift movement, Polly grabbed her and pulled her onto her lap.

  "Oh, no I don't! She does!" Polly cried, burying her face on the back of Chrissy's neck, her chortles of merriment matching those Chrissy couldn't hold back.

  Chrissy managed to squirm around and grab Polly's robe, pulling it over her face. "No! No I don't," she said gleefully. "Aunt Polly does!"

  Sam waited for a long moment without saying anything else. Soon both of them fell silent, but each kept her face hidden. After another few seconds, though, they peeked at him apprehensively.

  "Huh," Sam said. "If that doesn't take the cake."

  "What, Uncle Sam?" Chrissy ventured.

  "Well, golly," Sam mused. "I can't make up my mind which one of you to give the first egg facial to." With a shrug, he turned. "Guess I'll have to go eat instead."

  Chapter 6

  Sam slipped the wide, gold band he'd picked up at the general store on their way to the church over Polly's trembling finger.

  "By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you man and wife," the minister said solemnly. "You may kiss the new Mrs. Butler now, Mr. Butler."

  Polly felt as though her eyes were glued to the face of the man all the children in church called Preacher Jim. Yet when Sam touched her chin, she turned her face toward his in much the same way a flower seeks the path of the sun. He covered her lips and kissed her tenderly, taking his time with it. Preacher Jim finally cleared his throat to get their attention, and Sam sighed and raised his head.

  "Yippee!" Chrissy jumped from the front pew and ran over to them before Preacher Jim could speak, with Jose following more slowly. Sam swept the little girl into his arms, and Chrissy reached out and pulled Polly closer. "Do I get a present too, on our wedding day?" she demanded.

  "A present?" Polly said with a smile. "Why, Chrissy, who told you we'd be giving each other presents today?"

  "Everybody gave Mr. and Mrs. Pyle presents the day they got married," Chrissy contended. "I was only four, but that was just last year and I 'member it. We give them that quilt I helped make."

  "Gave them," Polly corrected.

  "Gave them," Chrissy repeated agreeably. "And I don't want something like a quilt. It's...."

  She ducked her head in sudden shyness, and Sam tilted her face back up. "What is it, sweetheart? If I can, I'll get it for you. This is your day, too, like we talked about this morning."

  "Well." Chrissy glanced at the minister. "You know lots about Heaven, Preacher Jim. I ... I need to ask you somethin' first."

  Sam allowed her to slide to the floor, and Chrissy took the minister's hand, leading him off to one side. They whispered together, glancing now and then at Sam and Polly.

  "I wish you both much happiness, Señor and Señora Butler."

  Polly turned to Jose, at first wondering who he was speaking to before she quickly fathomed her old friend was addressing her with her married title. Jose shook Sam's hand and reached for Polly's. He carried it to his mouth and kissed the back of it, patting the spot he'd kissed as he said, "I will go on back now. I will see you both at the ranch."

  "Thanks for being my best man, Jose," Sam said with a smile.

  "Was my pleasure, Señor," Jose replied. "A great pleasure."

  As Jose slowly limped down the church aisle, Sam and Polly looked over at Chrissy and the minister. When Sam focused on Polly again and lifted his eyebrows inquisitively, Polly shrugged her shoulders in disavowal.

  "I have no idea what she wants," Polly said truthfully. "And you really shouldn't agree to give her whatever she asks for, without knowing if it's something she needs first. You'll spoil her."

  "I said I'd do it if I could," Sam responded. "And that goes for you, t
oo. If you want something, all you need to do is ask."

  Polly spoke before she could think. "All I want is for Chrissy to have a wonderful Christmas at the ranch she loves so much." She realized her mistake immediately when she caught the brief flash of anger in Sam's eyes. But he maintained a low-voiced control when he answered her.

  "I've already agreed to that. We're going shopping as soon as we leave here."

  "Oh, I can't," Polly whispered, thinking of her embarrassment when she fingered all the things she would love to give Chrissy herself, knowing she had no money. "There's ... we need to get back. There's supper ... and evening chores...."

  "I've already set up an account at the general store, and I expect you to use it, too," Sam said, making her realize he was all too aware of her lack of funds. "I also told the hands to stay and do the other chores tonight, and one of their wives came over after we left. She'll leave supper waiting in the oven for us."

  "You think of everything, don't you?" Polly said in a resentful voice. "And you could have asked me before you did that. Maybe I didn't want some other woman messing around in my kitchen. But I guess it's easy to order things done when you've got money to pay for them."

  "Listen to me, Polly." Polly glanced into his face and saw understanding there. "It's not your fault you need some help now. From what I know, you've done everything you could the past few years to stay on top of things. Let's don't sully the rest of the day. It started out pretty nice."

  The sincere tone of his voice melted a little of her annoyance, and when she remembered him chasing her and Chrissy with the gooey egg mixture, a smile actually tilted her lips. "I'm sorry," she apologized. "I guess I do appreciate knowing I don't have to spend my evening cooking."

  Sam hugged her and kept his hand on her waist as Chrissy skipped up to them. His touch reminded her immediately of what definitely did await her this evening — her wedding night. Sleeping with Sam in the double bed, which had always seemed so nice and large and comfortable — and lonely — when she had sobbed herself to sleep so many nights the last year or so.

  She gnawed on her bottom lip. Sam was so large, he would probably take up most of that bed — Christine and Ron's former bed. A sudden stab of jealousy stormed through her. Would Sam be wishing it was her sister lying there with him instead?

  Good grief, jealousy was supposed to be an emotion associated with envy — or love. She couldn't be falling in love with Sam Butler. He'd made it clear this was only a marriage for Chrissy's sake. He'd looked awfully cute that morning though, with the egg white on his rugged face and that gonna-get-you look in his eyes....

  "Preacher Jim says it's fine," Chrissy said. "I can tell you what I want now."

  Pulling Polly down with him, Sam knelt in front of his niece. "What is it, honey?"

  "I was afraid my other mama and papa might get mad at me, but Preacher Jim says not," Chrissy explained in a serious voice. "I'd like yours and Aunt Polly's per-permis...." She glanced at the minister and he mouthed something to her. "Permission! That's it. Can I call you Papa and Mama now?"

  Polly's eyes filled with tears, and she heard Sam's muffled sniff beside her.

  "You've got my permission," Sam said gruffly. "And it would make me very happy to have you do that."

  Chrissy tilted her head inquiringly at Polly, and she reached out to pull her into her arms. "You've always been my little girl, Chrissy," she said around a sob of joy. "I love you very much, and I'd be awfully proud to have you call me Mama."

  "That's settled then," Chrissy said, astonishing Polly at the matter-of-fact way she sounded when held-back emotion clogged her own throat. "Can we go shopping now, Papa? You said this morning that we would."

  That cocky grin Polly was coming to recognize slid over Sam's mouth and he swept Chrissy with him as he stood. "Of course, sweetheart." He nestled her into the crook of his arm. "Let me speak with Preacher Jim, and then we'll go."

  Polly watched him stride over to the minister and hand him something. Money, she supposed, to pay for the ceremony. She smoothed her hands down the skirt of the dark mint-colored dress she had taken from her trunk that morning — one of only two dresses remaining from her New Orleans days. All the others had been refashioned into every-day dresses for her or Chrissy. But at least she hadn't had to accept Sam's offer to buy her a wedding dress. And this one had always been her favorite — it almost matched her eyes and flattered her slender figure. The ruffles at the neckline added to her less than generous bosom.

  Now, why on earth did she suddenly start wishing for more on top? It had never bothered her before.

  Sam shook hands with Preacher Jim, and a moment later they left the small church, climbed into the wagon and made the short drive into town. Sam mentioned at one point their need for a buggy, and Chrissy bounced up and down with glee when he also added she might be thinking about what sort of pony she wanted, since she was well old enough to begin riding. Polly managed to swallow her pique at being unable to provide such a small pleasure for her niece and smile into Chrissy's excited face.

  As the afternoon wore on, though, her rancor grew. Sam made an even greater friend of Mac, the general store owner, within five minutes of them entering the establishment. He never asked a price — only gave the man a long list he evidently had already prepared, then led Chrissy up and down the aisles. The owner's wife tagged along, completely willing to accept the purchases and carry them back to the counter.

  Most of the things could be deemed necessities, Polly realized, although somehow they'd been able to get along without them recently. Chrissy picked out some mittens, a new winter coat with a matching hand muff and earmuffs, and some boots. She added some socks and underdrawers, but also some frilly pantalets.

  Polly glanced now and then at the store owner to see him carrying box after box of provisions taken from his shelves out to the wagon. He untied a huge ham hanging from the rafters, then a burlap bag, which probably contained at least an entire side of bacon. He filled other burlap bags with flour, sugar and coffee beans. She caught the smell of apples once, and saw him scooping dried ones from a barrel.

  "Pssst."

  Polly turned to see Sam motioning to her. "I sent Chrissy back to have some cookies with the owner's wife for a few minutes," he said as she approached. "We might not get back into town before Christmas Day, so I thought we'd better get that shopping done, too."

  Taking her hand, he led her over to a shelf. "She seemed especially entranced with that one," he said, pointing to a doll with a porcelain face. "But for some reason, she said she didn't need a dolly this year."

  "It's beautiful," Polly admitted. "She would love it. All I have for her is a new nightgown I made her, and a robe. No toys."

  Sam took the doll down from the shelf. "Have you seen anything you'd like to get her?" When she remained silent, he started to frown. "Please, Polly. We want to make this Christmas special for her. It's our first one as a family."

  With a sigh, she turned and went to the front of the store. At a glass case by the cash register, she pointed to a music box, with tiny, woodland figures of bears, bunnies and squirrels on it. The store owner immediately took it out and handed it to her.

  Polly twisted the key on the bottom, and the top revolved as strains of Brahms Lullaby tinkled through the room. When Sam failed to give her his opinion, she turned to see him fingering a hand-tooled, leather vest, the same chocolate color as his eyes. As though sensing her gaze, he dropped the vest and looked up, nodding at her.

  "That's nice. She'll like it. Now, why don't you go have a cup of coffee with Mac's wife and send Chrissy to me. We'll let you know when you can come out."

  Polly started to protest, but Sam wagged a warning finger at her. "Ah, ah, ah. It's Christmas, a time for secrets, so don't you dare poke your head out until we give you permission to."

  He had such a childishly delightful look in his eyes that Polly obeyed him. She even also swallowed her pride long enough to send Mac's wife on a surreptitious t
rip into the store while she drank her coffee. When Sam helped her into the wagon a long half hour later, she had her own packages in her arms.

  Sam made a playful grab at one of them as soon as she sat down on the wagon seat, but she laughed and pulled them away from him. "Secrets," she reminded him, and laughed again when he pretended a petulant pout.

  Tension replaced her gaiety, however, as they drove toward the ranch. Her thoughts kept veering toward the coming night. The two-hour trip seemed only to take a few minutes. She tried hard to join in Chrissy and Sam's chatter and thought she succeeded fairly well. They arrived home at sundown, with Chrissy stretched out across both their laps, sound asleep. The hand who'd stayed behind to do the chores was just leaving, but he agreeably dismounted when Sam asked him to help unload the wagon.

  She carried both the sleeping child and her gifts in, and managed to wake Chrissy long enough to change her into her nightgown and get her to eat a bowl of the soup she found waiting on the stove. All too soon, though, Chrissy knelt and yawned a short prayer, climbed into bed and immediately fell asleep again. Polly heard the sound of horse's hooves as she walked back into the kitchen and knew the hand was on his way home. Jose would probably wait until morning now to see them, since he usually went to bed along with the sun these days.

  In the kitchen, she stood undecided as to whether to set the table or just get the roast the hand's wife had left in the oven out and set it on the counter, along with a plate for Sam. Her stomach was way too knotted to even think of eating a bite, but Sam probably wanted something. She felt a stab of pain, and glanced down to see herself twisting the wide, gold band around and around on her finger. She had already worn a deep groove with it.

  Moving closer to a wall sconce, she held her hand up. She hadn't really paid much attention to the ring at the ceremony. Now she saw delicate, intertwined vines encircling it. The gold gleamed with a pleasant glow.

  "Like it?"

  Polly whirled, a flush warming her cheeks. "Uh ... yes, it's beautiful."