It seemed to be an awful lot of fuss for just one day. And it wasn’t like it was even a day off work. The stock still needed tending. They didn’t know it was Christmas.
Trouble was; he just didn’t get it. Couldn’t see why it was all so fired up important. If people wanted to remember the birth of their Lord, why didn’t they just go to the mission or the church, say their prayers and have done with it?
But oh no! Seemed that was too simple. Instead it had to get all tricky with a fancy dinner and gifts. Dios, but he hated gifts. Just wasn’t any good at choosing them. The first Christmas he’d been back he’d taken Delice’s advice and the gifts had gone down well. The old man had liked his pipe rack. Even now it sat on his desk, kind of like he was proud of it.
But it had all gone haywire when he’d tried to get Teresa a present for her birthday. He thought it could come in handy, he’d suggested she kept it by the bed. But it seemed that a pearl handled revolver wasn’t a suitable gift for a girl. Hell, the old man had gone crazy over that. Trouble was nobody explained why it wasn’t a suitable gift. Boston had just rolled his eyes and said “it simply isn’t done” and Murdoch had accused Johnny of “being obsessed with guns.”
And it was always somebody’s birthday so no sooner had he gone through hell over Teresa’s gun, than it was Murdoch’s birthday, and then Scott’s birthday. Dios. Why did people want to celebrate getting old? He’d done very well all those years without even knowing when his birthday was.
But Christmas! Presents for everyone. All at once. Shit.
He’d thought of hand tooling a holster for Scott, but the old man would probably accuse him of being gun crazy again. But hell, what could he give a man who appeared to have everything? And the old man sure as hell didn’t need another pipe rack. And he had more than enough malt whisky to keep him liquored up for years so that wasn’t no good. And Teresa? Dios. Who knew what went on in the heads of women?
He winced as he stabbed himself with the needle he was using to repair Barranca’s halter. Looked like he’d better ask Delice again. He couldn’t face a repeat of the shouting match he’d had with the old man on Teresa’s birthday. But he still couldn’t see what was wrong with a gun... It had been a real pretty piece.
....................
“A hand tooled holster will do very well for Scott.” Delice nodded thoughtfully, and then took another sip of her whisky.
Johnny eyed her, doubting she was right on that score. “You really think so? Murdoch went crazy over the gun...”
Delice gave him one of her looks, narrowing her eyes and sighing. “That was because it was for a girl. Men of his generation don’t feel it is seemly for a girl to be too handy with a gun. It’s hypocrisy of course because I’ll bet a year’s takings that he expected her to load rifles and fire a gun when you had the trouble with those gunmen when you first came home.”
Well, that was true enough. Scott had told him how Teresa had joined the fight to protect the ranch. Johnny grinned. “You got that right. Okay, so I do that for Scott. What about Murdoch and Teresa though?”
Delice rested her chin on her hand, a small frown line between her eyes like she was thinking hard. “A shawl for Teresa. But nothing ordinary. Something extravagant that she could wear to a dance. So a fine silk one. And make sure you pick one which has her favourite colour in it. Do not, under any circumstances, get one in a colour that you have never seen her wear. So never mind thinking it might look good on one of the girls here, think of Teresa’s choices. There’s a new shop in Stockton selling very pretty ones imported from Europe. It has some incredibly pretentious name...” She paused, screwing up her face as she tried to remember. “Parisienne Follies. That’s it. But despite the name, and it’s rather dull and prudish owner, it does have pretty things.”
Johnny laughed softly. “Dull and what owner?”
“Prudish. She was very reluctant to serve me. She informed me that I was not the sort of customer that she wished to have in her establishment. Which is unusual. People are normally only too keen to accept my money.” Delice waved her hand, like it didn’t matter none. “That is beside the point. It will be an excellent place to find something pretty for Teresa.”
“What were you trying to buy?” Dios but some folk were shit. But it didn’t surprise him none. There were too many people like that, who thought they were better than others.
Delice shrugged. “Just a shawl. But it was a very unusual colour. Like old gold but shot with just tiny threads of emerald at the edge.” There was a tone in her voice, kind of sad. “Now, your father. I think your best bet would be to get him one of those beautiful heavy leather blotters and tool the leather yourself. Perhaps with his initials or something. That would be a very suitable gift.”
Johnny shook his head in admiration. “Dios! How the hell do you think of these things, Delice? I tell you, I been thinking for weeks about what to give and I couldn’t come up with a single idea. Well, apart from things connected with guns.” He sighed heavily. “I still reckon Teresa’s gun was a good idea. I swear she looked pleased before Murdoch started hollering!”
Delice laughed. “She probably was, but you have to learn to exercise tact around your father. From what I hear he’s a very conventional man, and guns for girls are not on his agenda!”
..........................
It was funny, but she was right about the gifts again. Teresa loved her violet shawl. The hoity toity woman in the shop had said it was violet. He thought it was purple. But oddly enough Teresa called it violet too as she wrapped it around herself cooing with delight. Yep, the way she was prancing around the room, it was pretty clear he’d chosen good. And Murdoch had looked pleased. And kind of relieved too.
And Scott had seemed happy with his holster and Murdoch had put the blotter on his desk right off. And kept looking at the hand tooled letters and horns and horseshoes. Running his fingers over them, with a faraway look in his eyes.
If he was honest, he was kind of proud of the tooling on the blotter. But hell, it had taken forever to do, so it was just as well it had worked out okay. And the day had been a bit easier than last Christmas. He’d tended the turkey again when the others went off to their church. And Teresa had made her special shortbread again which always put the old man in a good mood.
So yeah, all things considered it hadn’t been too bad. He’d snuck off to the barn after lunch and had lingered over Barranca so as not to have to spend too long cooped up with all the family.
Murdoch had given him a big sheepskin coat. It looked real warm and kind of cosy. It would be good when he needed to ride up to the high country on the ranch in the winter. Hell, it would be good for just riding pretty much anywhere on the ranch in the winter. He was always damned cold. Maybe in time he wouldn’t feel the cold as bad, but he still missed sunshine.
And even though the day passed smoothly enough, he’d spent it looking forward to the family turning in for the night. As soon as the house had settled down, and all was quiet, he headed back out to the barn and saddled Barranca to ride into town.
He was glad of the new coat because there was a heavy frost settling in but it was kind of pretty because it all sparkled in the moonlight like thousands of diamonds glittering in one of those fancy shop windows in Frisco. The trees looked like they were coated with silver, and stretching their branches towards the clear night sky it was like they were thanking God for his gift to mankind. It was the sort of night when a man could almost believe in angels on gilded wings sweeping down to earth. Yeah, a real pretty night.
Green River was kind of still and peaceful. There weren’t even the usual stray dogs around scavenging in the alleyways. Maybe somebody had taken them in for the night, it being Christmas and all.
He knew the bordello wouldn’t be open for business, but there were lights flickering through the cracks in the shutters. He tethered Barranca and moved swiftly to the door. He took a knife from his boot and used the blade to flick the catch on the heavy door and then pushed it open.
The warmth hit him as he stepped inside, as welcoming as a whore’s arms. And the girls all squealed with delight, crowding around him, giggling over him being able to open the locked door. Delice stood at the bar, and just raised an eyebrow at his entrance, but didn’t look mad. She just raised a glass to him like she was toasting him.
He grinned across at her. “I know you ain’t open, but I brought a few things for the girls.” He held out a bag of pretty hair slides and bows and ribbons which the girls swooped on like magpies catching a glimpse of something sparkly.
He left them squabbling over who should have what. He’d expected that, so there were at least two gifts for each girl. And they were a hell of a lot easier to shop for than his family.
Delice poured him a generous shot of tequila before beckoning him into her office. She raised an eyebrow, and tilted her head. “So? Did today go well? Were your gifts well received?”
He grinned, nodding out toward the group of girls. “As well as those seem to being going down, I’d say. And the old man didn’t yell at me all day.” He ducked his head briefly before looking back at her. “Thanks. I ain’t too good at choosing gifts.”
She sat back in her big leather chair, watching him over the brim of her glass. “Oh, I think maybe you’re better at it than you think.” She laughed softly. “You’ve done well with the girls. I guess it’s one way of ensuring that you remain their favourite customer.”
Johnny raised an eyebrow. “I don’t need to give ’em gifts to make me their favourite customer. I got other talents!”
Delice narrowed her eyes. “I see that modesty is not one of your attributes.” Her mouth twitched, like she was trying not to laugh.
He wasn’t too sure what attributes were but he got her meaning and just grinned, before reaching inside his new coat and pulling out a package. “I got you something too.”
Her eyes widened with surprise. “Johnny, you didn’t need to...”
He cut across her. “I know I didn’t need to, I wanted to.” He could swear she was blushing.
He watched as she bent her head and undid the parcel which he’d wrapped so carefully. He heard the slight intake of breath as she opened it up. Her head jerked up and her eyes glistened as she seemed to struggle to find something to say.
She held up the shawl, a real unusual shade of old gold shot through at the edges with tiny emerald threads which matched her eyes.
~end~