Mistletoe Mayhem: Clean Historical Western Cowboy Romance Novel (Dawson Chronicles Book 1) (2 page)

              Seth noticed that he also favored his right shoulder so he lightly embraced him.  “You got banged up good over there, huh?”

              “Yeah.  I doubt I’ll be going back,” Sawyer said. 

              At the sound of the screen door off the kitchen opening, Sawyer turned to see his mother, Frankie, running for him.

              “Sawyer?  Sawyer!” she cried, her arms open wide.

              “Mama!”  He hugged her.

              Frankie kissed him, pulled back to look up at him with her shining, dark eyes, and then hugged him again.  “I can’t believe it.  I thought I was seeing things.  Why didn’t you tell us you were coming home?  Oh, it’s so good to see my boy.  Come and we’ll get you settled.”

              “I wanted to surprise you.  Joey and Skip will be along with my luggage.  I don’t have much.  Are the other kids home?” he asked, walking with her.

              She noticed his limp.  “Is your ankle still not healed?  Is that why you’re home?”

              Sawyer nodded.  “I’ll fill everyone in at the same time.”

              “All right.  Dino and Lyla are home, but Sandy’s working.  Your pa is still out on a story, but I’m expecting him to come home before too long,” she said.

              Sawyer walked into the house where four generations of Samuels had resided and felt its familiar, warm energy wrap around him.  Entering the kitchen, he smiled as he looked at the scarred table where so many past generations had eaten and where the current inhabitants ate.  How many meals had been placed on it?  Too many to count. 

              Cupping his hands around his mouth, he let out a loud screech owl call.  Frankie held back laughter as Sawyer repeated the call.  Suddenly hurried footsteps sounded overhead. 

              “Hurry, Dino!  Move!” said Sawyer’s younger sister, Lyla.

              “I am!” his sixteen-year-old little brother responded before rounding the corner from the foyer into the kitchen.  “It
is
him!”  His correct name was Dean R. Samuels III, but they’d chosen the nickname to avoid confusion with his grandfather.

              Sawyer held up a hand to hold him off.  “Take it easy on me, ok?  I’m still sore and all.”

              Dino’s blue eyes looked him over, noting that his big brother looked a little thinner than before.  He gently embraced him.  “I thought we were hearing things at first.”

              Sawyer ruffled his hair.  “Nope.  I’m really here.  You got taller.”

              Seventeen-year-old Lyla nudged Dino out of the way and hugged Sawyer.  “Why didn’t you tell us you were coming home?  We’d have come to get you.  We’ve all been so worried since you were hurt.”

              Sawyer heard her sniff.  “Hey, I’m ok.  Dr. Walker will fix me up.  Don’t cry, Lyla.”

              “I can’t help it,” she said, looking at him with her big, dark eyes.

              With their black hair and slightly olive-toned skin, Lyla and Dino looked more alike than Sawyer and his half-siblings.  His father, D.J., had been involved with Jackie Benson, a young woman in Dawson, when they were both kids and she’d gotten pregnant with Sawyer.  She’d died giving birth to him and D.J. had raised him on his own until Sawyer had been almost three. 

              Then D.J. had met Frankie, who was of Italian descent, and she’d become Sawyer’s mother.  He loved her as though she were his biological mother.  Except for his brown eyes, Sawyer greatly resembled D.J. with his sandy-brown hair and the shape of his strong jaw. 

              His other sister, Sandy, a brown-eyed blonde, worked at their Uncle Jack’s restaurant, The Grady House.

              “It’s gonna be fine, Lyla.  Dry those tears,” Sawyer said.

              Skip and Joey arrived, jumping out of Skip’s car.  They entered the kitchen, greeting everyone, Skip carrying Sawyer’s duffle bag.  They were followed by Dean and Seth.

              “Mrs. Samuels, you get more ravishing every time I see you,” Joey said, giving her a rakish smile.

              “You just saw me yesterday,” she said, chuckling.

              Dean put his hand over Joey’s mouth.  “He’s a Dwyer so he can’t help himself.”

              Joey laughed and moved away from Dean.  “Yep.  It’s Daddy’s fault.”

              Seth stood behind Skip, eyeing his messy, dark hair.  “Skip, they make these things called combs.”

              Skip laughed.  “It’s the wind from the drive.  I had it looking good, but there’s not much you can do about the wind, is there?  Maybe I should get mine cut like Sawyer’s.”  He reached out, running a hand over Sawyer’s crewcut that was growing out now.  “Then it’ll stay neat no matter how much the wind blows.”

              Sawyer knocked his hand away.  “Stop petting me.”

              “Ow!  Ow!  Ow!” Joey exclaimed.

              Dean loved to torment him and he playfully pulled Joey’s longish hair.  “Maybe you should get yours cut that way, too, Jr.  Then no one could do that to you.”

              Joey laughed and twisted out of Dean’s grasp as he rubbed his head.  “You sound like Daddy.  He snuck in my room one night last week while I was sleeping and put a pair of scissors and a note on my pillow.  It said, ‘Get your hair cut or I’ll cut it for you.’”

              They laughed because it was easy seeing the mayor doing something like that since he was such a clotheshorse and kept his hair neatly cut.  It drove Joe nuts that Joey didn’t worry about his appearance as much as he did. 

              “And you’re being defiant since you still haven’t had it cut,” Dean said.

              “I was gonna get it cut, but—”

              A Model T drove up and honked its horn.  Sawyer crouched down a little to look out the window and saw that it was his father.  “Shh!” he said and limped into the foyer to hide.

              To cover the suddenly awkward silence, Skip said, “I’m glad you liked my report on squirrels last week, Mrs. Samuels.”

              At first the teacher looked at him blankly before realizing what he was doing.  “Oh, yes.  It was very informative.  I learned more about squirrels than I ever really wanted to.”

              They all laughed as Dean’s son, D.J., flung the screen door open, shouting, “Where is he?”

              Skip was so startled that he immediately pointed towards the foyer.  Seth promptly smacked the back of his head for giving Sawyer away.  Knowing there was no sense hiding, Sawyer stepped into the kitchen and D.J. broke into a huge grin at the sight of his son.

              Lyla said, “Pa, be gentle.”

              D.J. looked quizzically at her and then back at Sawyer.  He saw the way he walked and that he carried his right shoulder a little lower than the left.  His father’s instincts made him want to pick Sawyer up and soothe his pain the way he had when Sawyer had been little.              Although not quite exuberant as it would have been, D.J.’s greeting was no less heartfelt.  “I couldn’t believe it when Elliot said he’d seen you go by in Joey’s car.  I couldn’t get home fast enough.”

              Skip nudged Joey.  “Let’s go.  If Elliot saw Sawyer, then it’s a sure bet other people did, too.  They’ll have a whole houseful soon.”

              Joey nodded.  “Yeah.  Best to leave them to their visiting.”

              The boys said their goodbyes and left the family to celebrate the return of their loved one.

              The next morning, Sawyer sat on an examination table as Dr. Ben Walker gently examined his ankle, manipulating it and asking him questions.  Dr. Walker had read the report from Sawyer’s doctor in France that he’d brought back with him and he’d taken a look at the X-ray films, too.

              When he was done, Ben gave Sawyer a grim look, his green eyes showing his displeasure.  “This should’ve been operated on right away,” he said in his Georgian drawl.  “I know their resources are limited since they’ve got so many patients, but you might’ve been able to go back to the front if this had been treated properly.”

              “Can you do anything about it?” Sawyer asked.

              Ben said, “Well, I’d like to send you to Helena for more X-rays on it.  Depending on what they show, I may be able to fix it better than it is right now.  That may involve re-breaking it and putting in rods.  Are you prepared for that?  It’ll never be perfect, but you might not limp anymore.”

              “Whatever it takes,” Sawyer said.  “I’ll do anything.”

              Ben said, “I know you’re anxious to go back, but you might not be able to.”

              Sawyer nodded.  “I know, but if I can, I want to.  What about my shoulder?”

              “You said that your fingers go numb?”  As Ben examined it, Sawyer told him where the worst spots were.

              “Yeah.  It makes it hard to hold and shoot a rifle,” Sawyer said.  “And hand-to-hand combat is out of the question.”

              Ben hit a particularly sore spot and Sawyer grunted in pain.

              “Sorry,” Ben said.  “There’s still a lot of inflammation and there are some pinched nerves, too.  We’ll have your Aunt Hannah give you her magic massages twice a week.  She’s wonderful with these kinds of injuries.”

              Sawyer smiled.  “Ok.  You won’t hear me groan and carry on the way Mr. Dwyer does, though.”

              Ben laughed.  The mayor had a standing Tuesday appointment with Hannah Night Sky, their head nurse, who was a skilled masseuse.  The whole time she worked on him, he said things like “Sweet Jesus” or “I love you.”  Combined with grunts and groans of pleasure, it sounded like something much more than a massage was happening.  It was a source of amusement around town.

              Ben said, “I’ll call Dr. Carson in Helena for a second opinion and to set up an appointment for X-rays.  I’m grateful to Joe for fighting so hard to get us electricity, limited as it is, and also telephone service.  He should be proud of himself for accomplishing it.  We’ll be getting an X-ray machine soon. 

“In the meantime, I’m going to stabilize your ankle with an Ace bandage.  These just came out and they’re a great invention.  If Hannah’s free, I’ll send her in to give you a massage while you’re here.”

              “Thanks, Dr. Walker.  I really appreciate it,” Sawyer said.

              Ben smiled and wrapped up his ankle, visiting further with him.  Then he went to get Hannah and Sawyer smiled in anticipation of seeing his aunt.

*****

              “I gotta get out of here.”

              Joey wrapped his arms around Snow Song as they lay in his bed, catching their breath.  “Not just yet.  When are we gonna tell people that we’re together?”

              Worry entered her dark eyes.  “Joey, I’m just not ready yet.  You know that disapproval concerning interracial couples has been worse again.”

              He arched an eyebrow.  “Are you ashamed of me?”

              She rushed to reassure him.  “No, of course not.  It’s just that I’m half-Indian and things have been so tense around here.  I don’t want to cause you or your family any trouble.”

              He ran a hand over her bare shoulder, loving the way her smooth, light bronze skin felt against his palm.  Everything about Snow Song was beautiful.  Unlike most women of the Lakota heritage, she kept her black hair very short and tapered to her head.  The style showed off her long, slender neck and delicate shoulders.  Tallness ran on both sides of her family and she stood almost five-eleven; not much shorter than Joey’s six-foot-tall, muscular frame.

              She was long, lean, and graceful, with a way of walking that drew men’s eyes.  Her luminous, dark eyes were mesmerizing, and Joey had been attracted to her since he’d been fourteen.  He’d been slightly attracted to other girls, but Snow Song, who was four months older than him, was the one he’d always truly wanted.  However, since she was the daughter of close family friends who also worked for his family, Joey hadn’t pursued a relationship with her. 

His avoidance of her had nothing to do with race, though.  Dawson was much more tolerant of racial mixing.  The anti-miscegenation laws of Montana didn’t include intermarriage or inter-relationships between whites and Indians, only between whites and blacks.  There were marriages in Dawson between whites and Indians and between Negros and Indians. 

Not racist in the least, his parents were close with people of all races and walks of life.  He’d been taught that people might be a certain color, but that they were no different than him.  The Dwyers had also told their children that they weren’t any better than other people just because they had money and status.

              Joey had tried to hide his attraction for Snow Song, but she must have seen it because she’d cornered him one night in the barn and kissed him, letting him know that she returned his feelings.  That had been six months ago and it hadn’t been long before they’d become lovers.  He’d wanted to ask her father, Raven, for permission to court her, but she’d wanted to keep their relationship a secret. 

              “I don’t care what people think and you know how much my parents love you.  They’re not gonna mind.  We just can’t let them know that you sneak into my room at night,” he said, grinning wickedly.  “Which you started.”

              With a coquettish look, she asked, “Are you saying you don’t want me to anymore?”

              “Hell, no,” he said and then sighed.  “But I don’t want to keep sneaking around and I sure as heck don’t wanna keep seeing other girls.  Why are you making me do that?  Most women don’t want their man seeing anyone else.”

              “To keep up appearances.  You’ve always been a flirt and people are going to ask questions if you change,” Snow Song said.  “Someone like you only stops seeing women if they fall in love or a woman breaks their heart.”

              “Well, I don’t know how much longer I can keep up the act,” Joey said.  “I love you and I don’t wanna take these other girls out.  Please just think about it?”

              She scooted closer, nestling herself against his chest.  “It’s easy for you because when it comes out, you won’t be the one they look down on, Joey.  They’ll say I’m a half-breed whore trying to improve her station by seducing the mayor’s son.  I don’t want to be ridiculed.”

              “Snow Song, if anyone says anything about you, I’ll make them regret it,” Joey said.  “I don’t care who they are, they’ll pay.”

              She loved his protectiveness and the way he spoiled her.  He might only be seventeen, but for all his fooling around and recklessness, there was something mature about him.  He made her feel safe and she knew how much he loved her.  He told her every day and showed her whenever she came to him. 

              It was easier for her to slip into his room in the huge one-story mansion than it was for him to sneak into her family’s house down at the Lakota camp, which wasn’t far from the Dwyer estate.  She hated sneaking around and pretending to not be interested in him so that no one suspected. 

They had this little act where he flirted outrageously with her and she always refused his advances.  She knew he took a lot of ribbing over it, but he never complained.  It was fun because he always came up with scandalous things to say to her.

“You can’t fight everyone,” she said.

“I’ll sure as heck try.  You watch me.”

She giggled and kissed him.  “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too.  I would, thou—”

She cut him off with another, longer kiss. 

When it ended, he said, “If you keep doing that, I’m not letting you go home until later.”

Groaning, she got out of bed.  “Don’t look at me like that, Jr.,” she said, using his nickname.

“How can I help it?  You’re the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen with those long legs and a figure like that.”

She smirked at him.  “I wish I was filled out a little more in places.”

“I don’t.  You’re perfect just like you are.  Dress faster, will you?  I’m dying here,” he said, smiling as he watched her hungrily.

Snow Song finished and went over to the bed to kiss him goodbye.  “Don’t get out of the bed or else I really won’t go home yet.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to walk you home?” he asked.

“I appreciate your gentlemanliness, but I was raised Lakota.  I’ll be fine,” she said.

“That’s right.  My very own Lozen,” Joey said.

“Lozen was Apache, remember?” Snow Song said.

“She was still an Indian warrior, and so are you.  A very brave bravette.”  This was a term his father had come up with years ago to describe the fiercer of the Lakota women in the area.  “I’m glad you mainly wear skirts and dresses,” Joey said.

“Why?”

“I don’t want other fellas seeing any more of your sleek figure than they already do.  I wanna punch them when I see them watching you.”

She ran a hand through his hair.  “Don’t worry about it.  You know you’re the only one I want.”

He caught her wrist and kissed her palm.  “And I only want you.  Don’t make me keep playing these games.  It’s not fair to me and it’s not fair to those other girls.”

“Please don’t pressure me, Joey.”

“All right.  For now, but I’m not gonna keep up the charade much longer.  Consider yourself warned.”

Snow Song knew he was right.  She had two choices: let their relationship be known or let him go.  She couldn’t ask him to wait forever.  Threading her fingers through his hair, she said, “Soon.”  She grasped his chestnut locks and pulled just hard enough to hurt.  “In the meantime, if you ever cross the line with those girls, I’ll scalp you.”

He grinned at her, her ferocious attitude exciting him.  “Yes, ma’am.  You better get out of here or you’re gonna wind up back in my bed.”

Grinning, she released him and left through the window.

*****

              Two weeks later, Sawyer rode home from Helena with his mother.  Frankie saw the determined look on his face and smiled.  He looked so much like his grandfather when he was fierce about something.  D.J. did, too.  She remembered the first time she’d met Sawyer.  He’d been two and cute as the dickens with his big, dark eyes and sandy hair.

              She’d been a mail-order bride from New York and she’d met D.J. and a lot of his family when they’d been coming to Chicago for D.J.’s cousin, Aiyana’s, college graduation.  She and the handsome photographer had connected through the letters they’d exchanged.

              When she and his family had arrived at the train station in Chicago, D.J. hadn’t arrived quite yet.  He and Sawyer had walked a little so D.J. could quiet his nerves.  Then she’d seen D.J. striding towards her with Sawyer on his shoulders.  He’d caught sight of her and put Sawyer down, urging him to run to Frankie.

              He’d called out her name, holding his little arms out to her, a big smile on his face.  She’d picked him up, hugging him tight, and had fallen in love with him right then. 

              “Penny for your thoughts, Mama?”

              Frankie came out her reverie and smiled.  “I was just remembering the first time I met you.  You were so cute with your chubby little cheeks and messy hair.  I can still feel your little hands on my face and hear you saying, ‘Fankie, piddy.’”

              Sawyer laughed.  “I barely remember it, but I was right.  Fankie still piddy.” 

              Frankie laughed as she slowed around a turn.  “And you are still cute.”

              “Thanks, although I would prefer handsome and manly now,” he said, grinning.

              “Well, you’re both of those things.”  She saw him shift a little.  “Are you all right?”

              “Yeah.  I just have to move my shoulder now and then.  It feels a little better from Aunt Hannah’s massages.  Looks like I’ll be having surgery, huh?”

              “Yes.  I know Ben will do a great job,” Frankie said, fighting tears.

              “Yeah.  I hope he does it soon,” Sawyer said.  “I hope I’ll be able to dance once it’s healed.”

              Sawyer was a great dancer, learning new dances easily and even incorporating some of his own moves sometimes.  Photography and dancing were his favorite activities. 

              She patted his arm.  “You will.  I have faith.  When do you have to let your superiors know whether or not you’ll be going back?”

              Sawyer looked out the window.  “Probably by the first of the year I’ll find out if I’m up to it.  I could probably do something administrative, but I’d rather be out on the front lines.”