The Cowboy Who Saved Christmas - Jodi Thomas Page 0,1

to go back to or memories to keep.

Trapper grew up during the war. All he’d learned was to fight, and he’d had enough of that for a lifetime. The only skill he’d developed was passing unnoticed through towns and open country. He could shoot and track any animal or man. He could live off the land, but he didn’t know how to live with people.

Ever since the South surrendered, he’d watched people, never getting too close to anyone. You make friends, they get to know your secrets, and then they’re not secrets anymore. In his case, one secret could end his life.

Saloons seemed to be the easiest place to find a cheap meal and disappear among strangers. He’d learned to play poker well during the war and followed three rules from the first day he walked into a saloon: One: Never step away from a table broke. Two: Never cheat. Three: Never sleep with one of the soiled doves who leaned on his shoulders from time to time.

They were the only women he met. A respectable woman wouldn’t talk to a drifter or a gambler. Which left him with no midnight life, even though he left the tables with money in his pocket.

As the months rolled by, he kept moving west until he finally crossed into Texas. Here, there was less of a stain on the earth from war. The people might be poor, but they were still dreaming, not like most he’d seen. Yankees and Rebels even talked over a drink now and then. Texas had more to worry about than scratching at old wounds. The state was still untamed, with most saloons little more than tents with dirt floors. If the storms and the rivers didn’t kill you, outlaws and Apaches would.

Folks said half the men who survived the war were broken, but it seemed the ones in Texas were also downright crazy.

Trapper thought there must be good people in the world—settlers, farmers, traders—but the men he saw at the gaming tables often had dead eyes. They’d given up on life even though they still walked the earth. Others had become hunters looking for their next prey, be it animal or man. But here, in the Lone Star State, he’d found dreamers. And dreamers will always take a chance on the turn of the cards.

He managed to avoid the broken men or those who preyed on the weak as much as he could. Trapper studied people and saw few he wanted to remember.

As the sun set, he tied Midnight to the hitching post in front of the saloon. Be ready to ride had always been his motto. The town might be an important inland port, but Trapper feared trouble could be coming toward him just beyond the bend. A fast horse and lightning action had kept him alive many times.

A wreath of evergreen branches hung in the bar window looked out of place. Three weeks away from Christmas, he thought, and the saloon boiled with unrest. In a few hours the place would be packed with men, angry and drunk. Like most, Trapper didn’t care about the holiday. It was just another night.

He took a seat at a corner table near the kitchen. When he signed up for the War Between the States, he soon learned that one meal a day was a luxury. He always saved that one meal until sundown.

The thin cook, looking more kid than woman, brought him a plate of the nightly special. Trapper didn’t look up.

“You want anything else?” The shy girl barely raised her head, and the worn hat she wore hid both her hair and her eyes.

“No, I’m good.” He never talked to the women in the saloon more than needed, not even the kitchen help. He knew that as soon as this one filled out, she’d double, maybe triple her pay by climbing the stairs a few times a night. One night he’d see her in a fancy, low-cut dress, and not the rags she wore now. She’d be billed as a virgin for a few months, then the new girl for a while, and finally her rate would drop a bit and she’d simply be one of the doves. Her fancy dress would become ragged and her eyes dull from whiskey.

When the kitchen girl came back for his empty plate, he tipped her. She whispered a thank-you and moved away as a few men joined Trapper, ready to play cards.

Here among down-on-their-luck cowboys, outlaws, and river rats, the game