A Christmas Waltz. Jane Goodger

Carson asked, his voice filled with dread.

      “Nope.”

      “Well, that’s one thing. At least she doesn’t have her brother with her. He’d have me walkin’ down the aisle before I could spit.”

      Boone looked at his brother with pure disgust. “I have one question for you, little brother.”

      “What’s that?”

      “Why does that girl think you two are getting married?”

      Carson looked at Boone as if he were the simpleton he’d told everyone he was. “’Cause I asked her to marry me. It was the only way I could…” Carson stopped mid-sentence. “She’s all high falutin’, and it was the only way.”

      Boone told himself he shouldn’t be surprised, but he was. “Are you telling me you lied to that girl just to get her into your bed?”

      “That was the general idea. She kept tellin’ me we had to wait until we was married. Can you believe it? Never had that happen to me before. I even had to go to the brother and ask for her hand. Shit.”

      “You were formally engaged?”

      “Not formally. Nothing written down, if that’s what you mean,” he said, yanking on his boot angrily. “What the hell is she doing here?”

      “I think she’s here to get married.”

      “Well, she’s dead wrong about that. We’ll just send her on her way.”

      Boone knocked his hat against his thigh, unable to believe that even Carson could ask a girl to marry him just to bed her. Then again, he wondered what he’d do for that privilege. She was simply the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. Just thinking about touching her was enough to make him weak in the knees.

      They ignored George as they walked through the saloon and broke out into the glaring heat of the midday sun. Carson took two steps before he stopped, his skin clammy and bathed with sweat. “Oh, God, I think I’m gonna puke,” he said, hanging his head down and bracing a hand on each thigh. He swallowed heavily three times, straightened, then puked all over Small Fork’s only main thoroughfare. “I can’t do it. You go tell her I’m gone. You tell her you couldn’t find me. I can’t do it, Boone. You saw her. You saw how she can look at you and drive you crazy. Oh, God, I can’t do it.”

      Boone heaved up his brother as if he were a child, instead of a grown man who was almost as tall as he was. He shook him hard, clutching his shirt and driving his fists against his shoulders. “You got to face this, Carson. You’ve got to tell her to her face.”

      “She thinks I’m some sort of hero. She thinks I’m Carson Kitteridge, former Texas Ranger, some-goddamn-body. She thinks…” He began swallowing heavily again, and let out a couple of dry heaves before gaining control of himself. “She thinks I have a goddamn ranch. Hell, you wouldn’t believe the shit I was telling that girl just to get up her skirts. I would have told her I was the president of the United States if I thought that would work. You seen her.”

      Boone let out a sigh. In a small way, a very small way, Boone almost understood. “That doesn’t excuse what you did and you know it. You’ve got to face this, Carson. I’m not bailing you out again. I’m not.”

      Carson gave him a belligerent look that was tinged with enough guilt that Boone knew he understood. All his life, Boone had been covering for Carson, taking his pain. Not this time.

      “Hell. Let’s get this over with,” Carson said. He started walking toward the mercantile when Boone put out an arm to stop him.

      “Go ’round back and clean up. You smell like a whore and you look like hell.”

      “Oh. Yeah,” Carson said, as if the thought hadn’t occurred to him, which it obviously hadn’t.

      Boone went back into the store, something tugging at him hard when she whirled around to see who’d entered. Her disappointment was painfully obvious. “He’ll be right here.”

      “Did he…Was he…” She stopped, her porcelain cheeks turning a vivid red. He’d never before seen a girl with skin so pale. “Thank you,” she said, finally. “Do you work here alone?”

      “Yes.” He started finishing the work she’d interrupted, setting up cans of corn so that the labels all faced precisely the same way.

      She nodded as if interested in his one-word response. “And are you in charge of keeping this all neat and clean? You do a marvelous job.”

      He stopped for a moment and narrowed his eyes. She was talking to him as if he were a child who’d finished all his dinner.

      “Carson must be so proud of you,” she said to fill the silence.

      Boone should have said something, but he was too busy mulling over why she was talking to him like a child.

      “You have to be very smart to take care of a store all by yourself.”

      He finally turned, overcome with curiosity. “Miss.”

      “Yes, Boone.”

      “Are you somehow under the impression that I’m not right in the head?”

      Her cheeks turned scarlet once more, two painful blotches of red. “Oh, no, Boone. I would never think that. You’re very smart. Your head is perfectly…”

      “Because I’m not stupid.”

      “I know,” she said, as if he was a simpleton.

      He set his jaw, knowing that short of producing his degree from Tulane University, she was going to continue to talk to him as if he were a dunce. He glared toward the back of the store where Carson was no doubt trying to clean himself by the fountain, because he had a feeling he knew where she’d gotten the idea he was short of brains.

      Spotting a fingerprint on his gleaming counter, he took out his cloth and wiped it down. He was bending down to be certain the smudge was gone when the front door opened and in walked Carson, bigger than life, a smile on his face, as if he hadn’t just been puking in the middle of the street.

      “Where’s my darlin’ girl,” he shouted, and opened his arms.

      The relief on Miss Wellesley’s face was almost painful to see. She ran into his brother’s arms, and Carson embraced her like a man who was actually happy to see her, something that only made Boone even angrier.

      “I wasn’t certain you wanted me to come,” she said, her voice muffled against his shirt. “You didn’t write.”

      “’Course I did. An’ here you are.” Carson looked up at Boone and gave a little shrug, as if to say “See? I can’t help myself.” Boone’s heart tugged for the girl, because he knew Carson would leave at the first opportunity. Hopefully, he’d tell the girl first. Boone would make certain of it.

      “I knew you had, I just knew it. My brother wanted me to wait, but the post isn’t always reliable and no doubt dozens of letters get lost when they’re going across the ocean.” She looked so happy it hurt.

      “Amelia, this here’s my brother Boone. The one I told you about.”

      “Yes, we’ve met,” Amelia said, beaming a smile at Boone. God, that girl could make a man weep with that smile, it was so beautiful. Her whole face lit up with it, shining like a happy light.

      “You mind telling your fiancée that I’m not a moron?”

      Amelia began to object, but stopped when Carson began to laugh, doubling over in his mirth. “Oh, Lordy, I forgot I said that about you,” he said, wiping his eyes. Boone never even cracked a smile.

      “He isn’t dumb. He’s about the smartest person I know. He’s a pure genius.”

      Amelia looked initially shocked, then swatted Carson playfully, laughing. “Is there anything you told the truth about?” she asked in mock exasperation.