The Christmas Gift

Chapter Two

by Alias

e-mail: [email protected]

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Disclaimer: See part one for the boring legal mumbo jumbo.

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Chris could tell that Sarah was angry—most likely at him—from her

stiff movements as she gathered the dinner dishes from the table.

He was a damn fool for coming back here, and he knew it. But if he

couldn’t talk any sense into the old man, then maybe he’d have better

luck with the daughter, he doubted it though. He was about to bring

attention to himself when looked up and saw him.

"What do you want?" She asked angrily. Half of her anger was

probably because his unexpected appearance had obviously scared her

before she realized it was him.

"To talk to you."

"Well, I’d prefer not to talk to you. Ever. If you’ll excuse me…"

She started to pick the dishes up from the pile on the table.

"Wait! Listen, just hear me out, ok?"

"You have five minutes."

"I know men like Cates Miss Woods, he’ll get this land anyway he can.

With money, bullying, murder… anything. Getting you for a wife isn’t

the least of his ideas."

"That would require consent that neither my father or I would ever

give."

"Ever hear of a shotgun wedding?"

She stiffened. "Of course."

"Then don’t be surprised if Cates shows up one day with a gun in one

hand, a preacher in the other." He could see that what he was saying

wasn’t having any effect. Leastwise, not the effect he’d been hoping

for. Damn girl was just as stubborn and thick headed as her father.

"Listen, Buck and me, we’re good with guns. But there are better, and

we’re only two men. Cates can hire himself a lot more men than your

father can. If you value your life, leave. This situation ain’t got

no place in it for a helpless woman."

He saw the gravy boat flying towards his head just an instant before

it would have connected if he hadn’t ducked.

"Shit lady!!!!"

"Helpless!?!?" She shrieked, "I’ll have you know that I am perfectly

capable of hitting whatever I choose to aim at with both a rifle and a

pistol." The potato bowl went flying towards him. "And furthermore,"

She continued, throwing more dishes as he tried to inch his way

towards her. "Do you have any idea what you’re asking me to give up?

What you asked my father to give up?" Chris picked up a chair to ward

off the stream of flying objects. "My father worked his whole life to

make this ranch what it is, it was his dream, my mother’s dream, that

it would be their son’s someday. It’ll be mine instead, and there’s

no way either of us will let it fall into the hands of scum like Joe

Cates, or be driven off of it."

She stopped, having run out of dishes, and looked for something else

to throw, eyeing the chair speculatively. She shrieked when two

strong arms lifted her from behind by the waist, and her back

connected with a hard chest.

"Now you listen and you listen good. You may know how to use a gun,

but you don’t have one with you now, do you? If I was Cates or one of

his men, I coulda done anything I wanted to do with you." She

started to say something, but he cut her off before she could. "Those

dishes worked for a while, but you ran out, and you were right back to

weaponless and helpless."

Sarah craned her neck to look at him, and realized that their faces

were level, and their mouths only a mere two inches apart the same

moment he did. Hastily, as if he’d been burned, he sat her down and

backed away.

"And another thing, loving and protecting the land is an important

thing, but keeping your life is much more important than keeping any

little piece of land. You can get more land, but you can’t get

another life."

He turned to go, but stopped at the doorway.

"And tell your father he’s a damn fool for leaving you alone in the

house."

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"So tell me Buck, why was your friend so insistent on not giving his

last name?" Buck turned to Joshua Woods, not surprised to hear his

least favorite—and most asked—question come from the man. The truth,

that Chris had no name he would ever lay claim to, required a lot of

explanation that he both couldn’t and wouldn’t give.

Fortunately—or rather, unfortunately—he was saved from having to

answer by gunshots from above, sending both men diving for cover. One

bullet, however, connected with Joshua’s arm, causing him to drop his

gun.

"Thought you said there wasn’t anyone on this parta the land!"

"No, I said there wasn’t any ranching going on on this part of my land

because of the rocks. That’s why I though Cates might have men up

here."

"Looks like you thought right." Buck glanced at the arm, which had

become drenched in blood. "How’s the arm?"

"I’ll live."

After a moment, they realized that no more shots were being fired from

above.

"Wait here, I’m gonna try something."

"What? Wait!" Buck didn’t listen, however, and left their cover,

standing out in the open. Joshua joined him when no shots were fired.

"What do you think happened?"

"I have no idea Mr.—Never mind." Buck amended what he had been saying

when he saw three horses approaching. The man on the lead horse held

his horse’s reins in one hand, and in the other was leading the other

two horses by theirs. Across the backs of the two horses were draped

the bodies of the men whom Buck and Joshua assumed to be the men who

had shot at them.

"Didn’t kill ‘em, didya Chris?" Were the first words out of Buck’s

mouth.

"Not yet." Chris replied as he dismounted. "How’s the arm Mr. Woods?"

"Not to bad."

"Oh really? Looks real bad to me."

"Well, it isn’t."

"Like I said, looks real bad. Bad enough, even, that you might wanna

leave town for a while, let yourself heal."

"Excuse me!!!!"

"Trust me Mr. Woods, it’s that bad."

Buck grinned, realizing what Chris was getting at. He knew Chris

wouldn’t have let him down. Well, he’d been pretty sure at least.

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"Don’t you have someone who could do that for you?"

Sarah glanced up to see who had asked the question, but already knew

by the soft voice that she’d see Chris leaning against the doorframe,

and returned to cleaning up the dishes.

"After all the trouble with Cates started, my father sent away

everyone that we could manage to do without, so they wouldn’t be

caught in the crossfire, if there was one."

"There will be. Your troubles have barely started lady, and they’re

gonna get a lot worse now that your father’s gone."

Sarah wondered why he was telling her things she already knew, when he

hadn’t come anywhere near her in the four days since he’d come back,

except to tell her that her father had taken a bad shot, and that Buck

was taking him away before Cates had the opportunity to do anything to

him. She was still bitter that he’d been taken before she’d had a

chance to see him. She’d seen plenty of Chris in those four days, and

had caught him watching her once, but he had quickly resumed what he

had been doing, and his face had looked almost angry. She supposed

that it was because she still refused to leave. Buck had dinner with

her every night, but even though he’d been invited, Chris refused to

join them, choosing instead to eat outside.

"You cook for everyone?" Chris asked, returning to his original

question.

"Yes, I do."

"You do a good job."

"Thank you." She replied, surprised to hear a compliment from him.

She waited, but he didn’t offer any conversation, and she was growing

uncomfortable with him standing there and staring at her, but not

doing anything. "Was there anything else? If not…" She indicated

the small pile of dishes that needed to be taken back to the kitchen

and washed, and noticed that he backed up a step.

"The other night…I was out of line. Your life is your own, it

wasn’t—it’s not—my place to tell you what to do with it."

"Are you apologizing?"

"I’m saying I was wrong." He had to grit that last word out, and she

couldn’t help smiling at his discomfort. It served him right, after

his standing there and making her uncomfortable.

"Apology accepted."