sun9

It was time - past time, really - to do something about Chris. Cort finished oiling his tack, hung up the bridle on its hook, put the saddle on its rack and put the saddle soap, polishing cloth, brush and oil away in the wooden cigar box he used as a storage container. It was two weeks until Christmas and snow was knee deep outside. He had come to the barn hours before to check on the livestock and gotten so involved in his fantasies about Chris that he'd done way more work than just what needed to be done.

At least, he laughed to himself, he was getting an extraordinary amount of work accomplished because of his sexual fantasies and scheming. Not that it took much pre-planning to get Chris to want him. She was amazingly willing. In fact, her very willingness and the way she welcomed his somewhat rough courting endeared her to him even more. She was the first "good" woman who had ever looked at him and seen through the externals to the real man underneath. His ragged clothing, sometimes less than pristine countenance - how could you work hard, after all, and keep clean 24 hours a day? - and his less than civilized manners didn't seem to bother her. She even liked the fact that he was a bit shy and often stumbled around verbally hunting for the right thing to say. Sometimes that even caused him to end up silent, struggling to get the words out, dumbfounded by his own lack of erudition. Chrissie would just take his hand and squeeze it, smiling up at him in her way that made him feel ten feet tall, and all his uncertainties about himself would just drop away. She was, in short, a miracle.

He was stumped as to what to get this miracle for Christmas. He already knew she had bought him shirts. He'd seen them when he was at her place the week before. Just knowing that she'd cared enough about him to take the time to order him clothing gave him a really warm feeling deep inside. Nobody had ever done that for him before. His mother had died shortly after his second birthday, so he had no recollection if she'd ever ordered him clothing from the Sears catalog, and his father certainly never had - he'd been too busy being drunk and beating Cort half-senseless every time the opportunity presented itself. "Arrggh," Cort growled to himself, driven, as always, to anger over his father even now, years later.

What would it have been like, he wondered, to grow up as Chris and Beth had, with both parents - loving and caring - and the security that engendered? He had no idea. It was a concept totally foreign to him for all that it was something he envied greatly.

What could he offer her that she would find special or wonderful, given the sweet, secure upbringing she'd had and what probably were the most special Christmases and birthdays in the world? Maybe he'd just tie a big red bow around his neck, put a tag on that said "To Chrissie from David" and let it go at that. See if she truly wanted him on a permanent basis. He realized as he thought it, that he was really thinking of settling down with her. A ring, then. An engagement ring. "God," he whispered in shock, he really had lost his head over her.

Two weeks - not much time to find a ring given the heavy winter weather they were experiencing and the fact that resources were very limited way out here in the wilds of Texas. Abilene was too far away to go there, find a ring and get back in time, what with snow hip deep in the passes and along the trail. He would have to go into the little town nearby and hope for the best. Maybe the lady at the dry goods store would have catalogs - he could order a ring, and perhaps give Chris a picture of it with the promise it was on its way. He would have to do that today. "Shit," he mumbled to himself and set about saddling his horse to ride into town.

It was a cold ride, but with surprisingly good results. Mrs. Farley not only had resources he'd not thought of, but she had a small amount of nice jewelry in her store. He could look at actual examples. There was a ring he particularly liked - it was a round diamond set in platinum with 4 saphire baguettes, one on each side of it, so the setting appeared to be square, and the band itself had filigree carving in it that made it very special. He could even afford it. "Can I get this engraved?" he asked the amused lady, who knew very well for whom the ring was intended.

"Sure," she said cheerily, "Sam over at the pawn and gun does jewelry engraving. Last year he did a locket for our girl Theresa - did a fine job putting her birthday and initials inside it."

"Can I buy this one or do I have to order a ring?" He didn't want to let go of her sample - what if he couldn't get one in time?

His earnest expression charmed her, and Mrs. Farley found herself allowing her newest sample ring go before anybody else had seen it. "Of course, you can purchase this one," she agreed. "I'll just get the box for it." She brought out a small velvet box - dark blue - and showed him how the ring fit into a special niche inside to show it off. "I'd wrap it for you, but since you want to get it engraved, why don't you do that and bring it back here, then I'll wrap it up pretty for you?"

Cort agreed that would be just fine and shortly set off down the street, crunching across the frozen mud ruts to Sam Doolittle's gun and pawn shop. The bell on the inside of the door jangled merrily as he went inside. The pawn broker looked up from cleaning some guns and wiped his hands, coming up to the counter as Cort got out the velvet box. "I need to have this engraved - can I get it back in time for Christmas?"

Sam examined the platinum ring. "Sure," he said, "What do you want it to say?"

Cort hemmed and hawed and finally figured out what he wanted. He told Sam, who agreed that was very nice, and that there was room inside the band for those words. "Come back in one week, it'll be ready." Cort paid him, got a receipt and put it carefully in his shirt pocket. He left with the insane urge to do cartwheels down the street, or tell everyone he passed about his incredible good luck. Instead, he picked up some extra coffee beans and some flour at the general store and set off home, grinning when he didn't remember to at least try to act in control of himself.

It wasn't easy. He was in love and he was happy for the first time in his life. He had little experience with either emotion, and both together - well - no experience at all with that. On the way home, he found himself taking the turn off for the Warren sisters' ranch. He'd just check that they had enough wood, he told himself, it was a legitimate reason to visit.

There was the usual plume of smoke from the barn chimney and the house's fireplace chimneys. Good, he thought, no shortage of dry firewood. He put his mare in the barn and walked up on their porch to knock at the door. It opened just as his knuckles brushed the wood and he found himself face to face with the object of his dreams. "Good morning!" he said, grinning.

"Cort!" she said, surprised, but smiling.

He ducked his head shyly, making himself look up to meet her eyes, "I just thought I'd, uh, see if you had enough wood chopped and all. . ." he trailed off, not sure where he was going with this. "Did you need me to do some wood for you?"

She shook her head and drew him inside, "No, get in here, it's freezing out. Want some tea?"

He agreed that hot tea woud be good and shortly found himself seated at the kitchen table while she took a pan of cinnamon cookies out of the oven and spread them on wire racks to cool. From the looks of it, she'd been up baking for hours. There were several varieties of cookies already cooling, and she had more ready to go into the oven. "Gosh - are you expecting company?" he teased her, munching on the crisp edge of a snickerdoodle. "Good!" he added.

"No, I'm not expecting anyone except maybe this big, tall galloot who shows up starving most of the time," she teased him. When he figured out that she meant him, he blushed, making her laugh out loud. "Cort, you are so darling!"

His flush deepened. "I am? Darling?" He didn't see how that could be, but if she said so, well, who was he to argue?

She nodded and poured him a mug of tea, topping off her own and setting out the sugar bowl and some milk. "Eat as many as you want, I've got dozens already made."

He couldn't imagine. "What do you do with them all?"

"Eat them, silly!" she teased him. She relented when his brows rose, "Oh, all right - ten dozen of them are for the church's Christmas Eve social after the midnight service - and I've also made extras because they'll probably eat that whole ten dozen right up in a minute. And I made a lot more to wrap up as presents. Nothing like something you make yourself, something that's useful or tastes good, to give as a present."

He pondered that while sipping the hot tea. Perhaps having the words engraved inside that ring counted as something he'd made himself? That would be doubly special. He smiled at the thought, making Chris wonder what he was up to. Wisely, she didn't ask, just handed him a gingersnap. "I've got more varieties you can try if you're still of a mind to when you're done with that one," she told him.

"Sugar?" he asked, wiping cookie crumbs off his lips and licking the crumbs off his fingers.

"Sugar cookies?" Chris echoed him, and passed him one.

He laughed softly, shaking his head, "No - I meant, could I get some sugar, sugar?"

Chris giggled and came to sit on his lap when he held his arms out to her. Settling, leaning comfortably against his solid chest, she draped her arms around his neck and sighed happily. "This kind of sugar is real nice too."

He agreed that it was. Kisses along the jawline, throat and mouth were even nicer, he pointed out, demonstrating for her. "Where is Beth?" he remembered to ask before things got too engrossing.

"In town decorating the church for the holidays. She won't be back for hours yet."

Chris let out a startled squeak as he stood up, sweeping her up in his arms and heading up the steps to her bedroom. "Cort! It's only polite to ask me first if I want to!"

He stopped midway up the stairs. "I'm sorry - do you want to?"

She laughed and nodded. He resumed his trek up the steps and they shortly found themselves in her bed indulging in a mid-day love-making session that was pleasant because it was in a bed and not in the hayloft or the tack room or on the ground by the river. Also, it was broad daylight but they didn't have to worry about anyone walking in on them. He loved how the sunshine spilled through the window across her bed and struck gold highlights off her blonde curls. It made her eyes turn deep, dark blue. He made love to her again, more slowly this time. When they were done, bonelessly drifting into a doze, he cuddled her against him. "Chris - have you thought about maybe getting married?"

As bolts out of the blue, that was a lulu, Chris thought. "Er, only as it concerns my sister and her doctor friend."

"Why not as it concerns you?" Cort echoed her tone of voice, thinking how funny she was. He rewarded her with a kiss on the forehead for being so sweet and funny.

"I dunno," Chris answered honestly. "I guess I just assumed I'd be the old maid sister, running the ranch and planning everyone else's lives like I plan my mares' breedings and where I'll put in a crop of potatoes next spring."

"Potatoes? That's romantic," Cort twitted her, delighted with himself when she laughed. "I made a joke," he commented, pleased.

"Yes, you did, you serious person you." She propped her chin on her hand and looked up at him, loving how his hair was every which way and his eyes gleamed at her like some fantastic kind of turquoise. "You have ridiculous eyelashes for a man."

Cort blinked, taken aback. "Uh, I do?" He reached up to feel the lashes in question. "They're just eyelashes, aren't they?" He longed for a mirror so he could study whatever it was wrong with them. Ridiculous, she said?

"No," she answered him solemnly, although laughter threatened to bubble through any second. "They're very long and nice - any woman would kill for them."

"Oh," he said, as if she'd explained it all. "So," he asked after long thought, "my eyelashes are too girlish? They make me look like a sissy?" He would trim them that very afternoon, he vowed to himself. Why hadn't anyone ever told him this before so he could take care of it? He realized suddenly that Chris was giggling so hard she shook the bed. "What now?"

She shook her head, got herself under control and answered him after a few minutes, "You couldn't look like a sissy if your life depended on it, David - and no, your eyelashes are wonderful. I love them."

Pleased, he asked, "You do? I shouldn't trim them, then?" That was a relief - he might have put an eye out.

"No! You will not!" She sat up, saw that he was completely serious and repeated herself, "No, you will not trim your eyelashes, I was only teasing you. They're perfectly suited to your face." She was glad she hadn't mentioned how much she loved his soft, perfect lips or his cleft chin. She had to remember Cort had been deprived of a lot of the natural teasing and banter that went with growing up in a family with siblings. She yawned and snuggled into the curve of his arm, "Let's nap a bit now, Bethie will be back in a couple of hours."

It wasn't until several hours later, when Cort was back home feeding his stock that he realized he hadn't asked her more about her ideas of marriage and making a home. Well, he told himself, he'd have to try not to be so easily distracted next time. He had no idea how he'd manage that, however. She just took him over when he was around her and all he could think of was silky hair, soft curves and skin like white velvet. Once that happened, his body took over and his mind went off somewhere else.

It was a puzzle how he'd ever deal with that.

Click the horses to go to the next chapter. . .