"Getting mighty cold out there, Sheriff."
Lom Trevors watched his deputy scratch ice off the frosted window.
"Don't bother none with that, Harker. It's gonna ice up soon as you turn your back."
"Yeah, guess so. Worth doing, though, if we're gonna keep an eye on this here town without going outside."
Trevors only grunted in response. Harker looked surprised.
"You ain't still plannin' to go out there, are you, Sheriff? It's gotta be twenty below."
"Got to do the normal rounds, Christmas Eve or no." He pushed himself up from his desk with both hands. Truth be told, he didn't want to go out, but there was no help for it. As the duly-elected sheriff of Porterville, Wyoming, he would do his job, no matter how cold, snowy or icy it was. It didn't mean he had to like it.
"Why don't you let me go, Sheriff. I can do it." Trevors' blue eyes shifted to the cane Harker leaned on.
"I can do at least some of it," Harker protested. "This leg ain't so bad. Doc told me so."
"Doc told you it'd take eight weeks for that broken bone to heal. You really want to go out there and break it again on some ice patch?"
"No, reckon not." Trevors put on his heavy coat and thick gloves. He jammed the tall Stetson firmly on his head and pulled the stampede string tight under his chin. He'd look a right fool if he had to run down the streets chasing his own hat.
"You be careful out there. That storm's pickin' up somethin' fierce."
"Don't I know it. Hold down the fort till I get back."
"Will do." Harker settled himself in the chair behind the desk, resting his cane against the wall. Trevors took one last look around the cozy interior before he went out. A gust of wind blew snow and ice particles in his face.
"Christ Almighty!" Harker had to put one hand over his face to hide his smile. Trevors took a deep breath and went out, pulling the door closed behind him.
He stood for a moment on the wooden sidewalk which was covered with the accumulating snow. Everything in town looked peaceful. No lights were on at the bank. Icicles hung from the cap of the Union soldier statue that stood eternal guard in the town square. The temptation to turn around and go back in was strong, but Trevors ignored it. He jammed his gloved hands into his coat pockets and started walking. As he passed each business, he tested the doors to make sure they were all locked, and peered into the windows, checking for movement. Most crooks would stay in on a bad night like this. Most. He smiled to himself, thinking of certain thieves he knew. They were smarter than the average criminal. They'd do their thieving on a night like this, when folks were home with their families, and even dutiful lawmen would rather stay inside. The thought stiffened his resolve. No rest for the wicked, or for the good.
There were some signs of life. He saw light and activity in the rooms above the stores, where the owners and their families lived. People moving about cast shadows on curtains, and sounds of laughter penetrated the whistling wind. At the Presbyterian church, each window glowed with light, and the steps were swept clean. No doubt a crowd would come for midnight mass to celebrate Christmas.
It took almost an hour to complete his inspection. Only a few people passed him on the street during that time. They nodded and tipped their hats, wishing him a Merry Christmas and receiving the same greeting in return.
Walking by a narrow alley near the jail, he thought he saw something move. Probably an animal, but he stopped to look more closely. He couldn't see much, but after a long moment, he heard a deep cough. He pulled his gun and cautiously entered the dark alley.
"This is Sheriff Lom Trevors. Whoever's back there, speak up and show yourself!"
"Aw, Sheriff, ain't no need to pull that hogleg."
Trevors put his gun back into its holster. "Horace, is that you? What're you doing out on a night like tonight?"
Slowly, a shape roused itself into a sitting position.
"I ain't feelin' too good, and that's a fact."
Trevors moved closer to the man who sat on the ground with his arms around his knees. Even in this wind, the smell of sour whiskey was noticeable.
"Did Ella kick you out again, Horace?"
"I didn't do nothin'! She just don't appreciate what a man's gotta do to keep warm."
"Drinkin' a pint or two of whiskey ain't gonna keep you warm. It's gonna get you kicked out because you got drunk again. How many times has it been this month?" Trevors grabbed the unresisting man's arm and pulled him up, letting him slump against a wall.
"I didn't do nothin' wrong! Women just don't unnerstand that a man's got needs!"
"Come on with me, Horace. You can dry out in a cell tonight instead of freezin' to death out here. Maybe Ella's gonna let you come back home tomorrow, after you sober up. It is Christmas, after all."
Horace wrenched his arm free. "Maybe I should freeze to death out here. That'd teach her a lesson."
"Yeah, that'd teach her real good. Let's go." When Horace showed no sign of moving, Trevors' voice hardened.
"I said, let's go. Now."
"Alright, alright." He took a tentative step and almost fell face forward, only stopping when Trevors caught him and pulled him back up again.
"Hang on to my arm, and we'll get you back to a nice cot in my jail." Slowly, arm in arm, the two men took cautious steps on the slippery sidewalk.
"People in this town are mean and cold, Sheriff. Don't matter if it's Christmas or not. They wouldn't care none if I did freeze to death out in the alley."
"Uh huh. Keep walkin'. We're almost there."
Horace stopped suddenly and stood up almost straight. "Present company expected, 'course. You're my friend, Lom, ain't you? My one and only true friend."
"Only when you get drunk and Ella throws you out. Since that's every week, I probably am your best friend."
"That's 'xactly what I mean. Oopsy daisy!"
"Hang on, we're there." Trevors couldn't open the door to the jail while supporting Horace, so he kicked the door hard instead.
"Open up, Harker, it's me. And I brung a guest."
When Harker answered the door, the two men staggered over the threshold. Trevors guided Horace towards an open jail cell, letting him slide out of his arms and onto a bunk. Harker stood outside the cell, leaning on his cane and watching.
"Ain't this the third time this week we've had this particular guest? Most company'd know they was wearing out their welcome by now."
Trevors was trying to pull off Horace's boots when the reclining man sat opened his eyes.
"SOME people are true friends, Mr. High-Falutin' Deppity! And some're . . . well, they's somethin' else, that's all I kin say."
"Some of us are gonna be watching over you while Sheriff Trevors here goes home for Christmas Eve, so maybe you better think about who you're talkin' to."
Horace tipped his head back so he could look up at Harker looming over him.
"You're right. Present company dissected."
"Accepted, you mean."
"Yeah, sure. Ain't that what I said?"
"That's enough," Trevors told them. "It's Christmas. Time to get along with your fellow man."
Horace focused bleary eyes on Harker. "I don't mean nothin' by it, Deppity."
"Well," Harker said, mollified, "I guess that's alright then."
"It better be. Let's leave our guest in peace. Horace, you gonna be alright?"
"I'm fine and dandy right now, yessir." He lay back on the pillow and crossed his arms over his chest. Almost instantly, deep throaty snores echoed through the room.
"I guess you are," Trevors agreed. He stood up and rolled his shoulders, trying to work out the stiffness as he and Harker headed back to the office area. "Harker, you sure you're alright staying here tonight? Ain't your family in town?"
"Sure are, but no, I don't mind none. When my two girls get together with their mother, they spend hours talkin' about nothin'. All these years livin' with women, and I still don't understand how they do that. I always fall asleep listenin' to that, so I might as well sleep here where they won't get mad at me."
"Good. Should be pretty quiet here anyway. Most everyone's in for the night, except for midnight mass."
"True enough. I don't expect too many more strays like Horace here, since everyone else has got family. You gotta feel for the folks who're all by themselves this time of year." At Trevors' sharp look, Harker blushed.
"Present company excepted, 'course." Trevors only stared. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean nothin'. You know you're always welcome at my house. You're like family to me and Mattie, you know that."
Trevors forced a small smile. He was ashamed of himself. Harker was a kind man. It wasn't right to make him feel bad.
"I know, and I appreciate that." He put a companionable hand on his deputy's shoulder and squeezed. "I'll see you tomorrow morning."
Outside, the cold wind and blowing snow slapped his face. It wasn't a long walk to his small house at the edge of town, but tonight, it seemed like miles. No one waited for him there. There was no woman to greet him with a kiss, no child to hang from his arm and sing out "Hi Daddy!" Just an icy house, with no fire in the fireplace, no love, and no warmth. A wave of strong emotion almost overcame him. He had to stop for a moment and pull himself together. Memories flooded up, and he couldn't shut them down. The long siege at Petersburg, and finally going home, thin and hungry, to find that home was gone. The Shenandoah Valley had been burned, the crops plundered, the buildings destroyed, and the shocked survivors had little to help them survive that first winter after the war. There was no place for him there anymore. When spring came, he packed his few possessions and headed for the wide open west, where a man could make something of himself.
And he had made something of himself. After a few wrong turns, he'd become Sheriff, a respected member of this community. He figured he'd done something right, but still . . . ice had frozen his heart, somehow, and he was going to a lonely, silent house for Christmas. This was a night of togetherness and family for other people, but not for him. His decisions had brought him to this cold place, and now, as he saw crowds arriving for the Midnight Mass, he questioned everything he had ever done.
But. There was always a "but." This was the life he'd chosen, and he had to live it. He took a moment to blow his nose, hard, and then, stuffing the bandanna back into his pocket, he set off again.
When he arrived at his house and saw it, dark and silent, he paused to look at it carefully. It wasn't so bad, he told himself. At least he had a house. Better than all those nights he'd slept outside, wondering where his next meal would come from, jealous of everyone who had homes to go to and families waiting for them. He had a place. He tried to look at the building with appreciation. As he did, something seemed off. Did he see a curtain move? He reached for his pistol, a comforting weight at his waist. He watched silently, trying to decide if he'd really seen something or not. Maybe his imagination was getting the best of him. He was still working out his options when the front door opened to reveal Caroline Porter standing in the doorway, wrapped in a thick shawl and with an exasperated look on her face. Bright light and warmth spilled out around her, casting a light that made the snow glisten and sparkle.
"It's about time you got here! I was beginning to think you got waylaid and decided to run off to somewhere warm! Close your mouth, you're going to swallow snow and start choking." There were very few times in Lom's life when he'd been too stunned to do anything but stand stock-still with his mouth hanging open, but this was one of them. He was frozen onto his spot as much as the iron Union soldier in the square.
Caroline clucked her tongue. "Lom, honestly, what am I going to do with you? Don't stand there like a cigar store Indian. Come into your own home. We've spent hours getting it ready for you."
Trevors was still tongue-tied, but he managed to spit out one word. "We?"
"Yes, we. Your friends and I. Thaddeus and Joshua – I mean, Mr. Smith and Mr. Jones."
Trevors watched in amazement as Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry appeared in the doorway, crowding around Caroline. "Merry Christmas, Lom! You didn't think we'd let you be all by your lonesome on Christmas, did you?" Heyes said.
"If'n you don't come in right now, we're gonna leave you out there in the ice and cold," Curry complained. "All the heat's escapin'." Trevors managed to snap his mouth closed and stumble indoors.
Standing just inside, melting snow dripped off his hat and coat and onto the floor. Light filled the room. Heavy logs in the fireplace crackled in the fire, emitting a sweet aroma. Must be chestnuts, he thought. He hadn't had chestnuts on the fire but once since the War.
Boughs of evergreen sprawled on the fireplace mantel, tied together with red velvet bows. More evergreen hung over the windows. Now he could smell that sweet green scent. The small table by the stove was decorated with a fine woven tablecloth, and china place settings were prepared. Candles glimmered brightly in an elaborate centerpiece strewn with holly.
"I guess we surprised you, didn't we?" Curry asked.
"Yeah," Trevors said, slowly turning side to side to take in the incredible sights. "I guess you did."
"You're making a puddle on the floor," Caroline said. "Hang up your wet things before you make a mess." He obeyed without answering, and his guests' smiles grew wider.
"Smart man," Heyes observed. "Always do what a lady tells you."
"Where did all this come from?" Trevors asked.
"It was all your friends' idea. They didn't want you to be alone for Christmas, and frankly, neither did I. We knew you'd be at work until late, and Joshua here had a key to your door" – at this, Trevors looked sharply at Heyes, knowing full well how they'd gained entry to his home, and Heyes only shrugged – "so we had time to set up. Dinner's been ready. I don't know what you've been doing, but you're very late."
"I've been working, Caroline! That's what I've been doin'!"
"Not on Christmas!"
"Of course on Christmas! Crooks don't take a holiday!"
Heyes looked offended. "That ain't necessarily true, Lom. Even crooks like to have a day off sometime. Don't they, Thaddeus?"
"How would I know?"
"How indeed."
"Stop it, you two," Caroline said, encircling her arms in theirs. "You haven't said if you like your Christmas decorations, Lom." A shadow of doubt crossed her face. "You do like them, don't you?"
An unaccustomed smile slowly spread under Lom's mustache. "I do, Caroline. I do. Thank you." He bent down and, taking her face in his hands, kissed her lightly on the forehead. "This might be my best Christmas ever. Thank you."
"And thank you too, boys," he said, straightening up. "This sure is a surprise."
"You can just shake my hand," Curry said.
"You work real hard takin' care of other people," Heyes explained, glancing sidewise at the blushing Caroline. "We thought it was high time someone took care of you."
"Well." Trevors cleared his throat loudly. "Well. That's real fine."
"That's right," Caroline said quickly, disentangling herself from the arms that were holding her a little too close. "Time for me to go."
"Go!" Trevors protested. "You're leaving?" The note of hurt disbelief in his voice stopped her in her tracks.
"My parents will never forgive me if I miss church tonight," she explained. "But don't worry! You can't get rid of me that easy. You'll see me tomorrow."
Curry put on his sheepskin coat and hat while she wrapped herself in a heavy woolen cloak. "I'll be back after I walk her to the church. While I'm gone, maybe you can start carving the ham that's in the oven. Trudging through snow always gives me a big appetite."
"Breathing gives you a big appetite," Heyes commented. Curry only glared briefly at his partner as he and Caroline went outside.
"I hope you don't mind that I picked your lock to get in, Lom. It was in a good cause."
Trevors looked again at the decorations and the lights. He drew in a deep breath, savoring the mingled smells of evergreen, chestnut, and food. The icy loneliness that had filled him earlier had melted away, replaced by the warm glow of friendship.
"I don't mind at all, Heyes. Truly. Just don't make it a habit."
"Jed and me, we don't have family either, Lom. What we've learned over the years is, your friends are your true family. We wanted you to know that we think of you as our friend."
"I know. And you're right. Friends are true family. Always."
8