The Christmas Gift

Chapter 4

by Alias

e-mail: [email protected]

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Disclaimer: See part One. Also, I may have already mentioned this, but this story was well underway by the time "Vendetta" aired, therefore, before we learned Sarah’s last name, and other little tidbits.

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Sarah brought the ax down hard, scowling as it barely chipped the wood.

"What the Hell are you doing?" Her scowl worsened at the sound of

Chris’s voice. What was it about that man that always made her either

uncomfortable, edgy, or downright mad?

"I’m chopping wood." She said crossly. "What does it look like?"

"I can see what you’re trying to do." She stiffened at the emphasis

he put on trying. "But why isn’t someone else doing it?"

She took another swing. Her anger gave her added strength and

accuracy, but not much. "I told you. Papa sent away almost all of

the house help, and everyone else is either on the range or busy.

It’s going to be cold at night soon, and we need the wood."

"Not gonna argue with that." Not going to argue? Well, that was

certainly a cha—she gasped as the ax was suddenly pulled out of her

hands just as she was about to bring it down again.

She turned around and saw Chris standing right behind her with the ax

in his hand. She hadn’t looked at him before, and so hadn’t realized

that he’d taken off his jacket and gunbelt and had rolled his sleeves

up to the middle of his upper arms. She was so busy taking all of him

in that she didn’t realize that he wanted her to move until he sat the

ax down, picked her up by the waist, and moved her to the side. He

scowled at her for a moment, then set to chopping the wood.

Well, what did he have to be scowling at? She certainly hadn’t asked

him to chop the wood for her, or to show an indecent amount of skin,

and he really couldn’t blame her for staring either, because that was

his own fault. Although…he did have very nice arms. They were much

more muscular than she had expected, but that was because he looked so

lean. But then, she really shouldn’t be surprised, he had picked her

up easily enough before. She suddenly realized that she was staring

again. Or was that still staring? She really hadn’t stopped staring

in the first place.

"I’m going to get something to drink, would you like something?"

"Whatever." It was her turn to scowl. At least his surly attitude

was still there to remind her not to think like she’d been thinking.

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Chris brought the ax down as hard as he could, silently cursing himself.

What the hell had he been thinking? He should have just looked to

make sure she was ok and been on his way. But she had looked so…well,

so pathetic, swinging that ax and not getting any wood chopped, even

though she was giving it her all. And what the hell had she been thinking, staring

at him like that?

Most men would have taken it for the blatant invitation that it had

been, and taken her up on the unsaid offer. Hell, he almost had for a minute there.

And…just where the hell was she anyway? She’d said she was going to get

something to drink, but she’d also said something about bringing him one.

Not that he wanted her to come back or anything like that, but…she

should have been back by now.

Cursing, he threw down the ax and headed inside.

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Sarah couldn’t believe it. Of all the lowdown, rotten, presumptuous,

despicable things…and the worst part of it was Chris had warned that

this might happened. He’d outright said that it would in fact. But

did she listen? Nooo…"Well Sarah?" Cates wanted an answer to his

marriage proposal…if it could be called that. The fact that he had a

preacher who had no doubt been fed a pack of lies—or didn’t care—and

a couple of his goons wasn’t going to make saying no—or rather,

sticking by that no—very easy. It would be hard, but not impossible.

"Go to hell." She turned to leave, but one of Cates’s men was

suddenly in front of her, blocking her way. "Obviously young lady," Began Cates’s

preacher—she didn’t know who he was, but he definitely wasn’t from around here.

Probably someone Cates had dragged in from another county, so that

he would have someone who would buy into his lies. "You cannot

be left here, unattended, in the company of only ranch hands

and hired guns. As you have already compromised yourself with Mr. Cates—"

"WHAT?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!"

"—And as your father approves of this union, it is only fitting that—"

"My father can barely stand the sight of this man!!!!" Sarah turned

to the preacher, yanking her arm free from the man who had been

holding it. "I don’t know what he’s told you Sir, but I can guarantee

that it’s not the truth."

"Now Sarah honey," Cates began in a placating tone. "You know that

your father and I are the closest of friends. I understand that

you’re mad at me, after my telling you that you shouldn’t be so loose

with yourself, but—"

"OH SHUT UP!!!!!!!" Sarah took a step towards Cates, planning to do

several things to him. "Ahem." Both turned to the preacher. "Miss

Woods, is it true that you have been left, unchaperoned, in the company of

men with whom you have no legal or blood relationship with whatsoever?"

"Well…yes…but…"

"That situation cannot be allowed to continue. And, in light of

your…ahem…relationship with Mr. Cates—"

"THERE IS NO RELATIONSHIP!!!!!!"

"—And as he has agreed to restore your honor and salvage what is left

of your reputation—"

"My honor doesn’t need restoring and my reputation is just fine, thank

you very much!!"

"—The only logical recourse is to—"

"Sarah isn’t unchaperoned, and her reputation and honor are just fine.

Her fiance is here."

They all turned to see Chris leaning against the door frame, no one

having heard him come in. Sarah wondered how long he’d been standing

there. His sleeves were still rolled up, and he’d been sweating, but

he’d put his gunbelt back on.

"And who would that be?" Cates asked derisively.

Sarah was amazed, truly amazed, and proud of herself, that she managed

to remain standing after Chris’s next word.

"Me."