Free Carla Kelly by Enduring Light

ask James?”
    “Yes. He wouldn't say anything, and he kept looking over his shoulder until we were well clear of Rawhide Buttes. I got firm with him that night, when we were all shivering and trying to stay warm in our bedrolls. James still wouldn't say anything. I doubt he ever will, so I doubt McAtee has anything to fear. But McAtee doesn't know that, does he?”
    They sat together in silence until Paul kissed the top of her head. “Have you resigned yourself to being curly top now?”
    She nodded, happy to change the subject, and told him about the two young women in the ward who had showed up at church with short hair. He smiled and traced her neck scar gently with his finger. “This bothering you so much?”
    “Not so much, not after Uncle Albert and I had a good talk about scars on the inside and on the outside. I'll tell you about that later. He's gone back to Koosharem, and said he might be here for Christmas. I… I wouldn't exactly hold my breath for that.”
    “I won't. It's more than enough to see you, and frankly, I don't think my uncle feels comfortable around me.”
    “He doesn't,” she replied equally frank. “You remind him of a hard time, and besides, he doesn't know you the way I know you.”
    “And you love me anyway.”
    James and her parents came home when she was finishing dinner and Paul was sleeping in the parlor again. James almost danced as he described the wonder of mechanical elves, all of them moving and gesturing in a store window.
    He held still long enough for her to unwind his muffler and take off his coat, which gave him a moment to reflect. “Here's what's strange, Mr. Darling,” he told her. “There were people walking by the window and they didn't even stop to look! What's wrong with them?”
    “Maybe they've seen it before,” Julia suggested.
    James rejected that with a frown in her direction, which made Julia smile inside. “Jee-rusalem Crickets,” he muttered, sounding very much like Mr. Otto.
    “I know it's hard to imagine,” she said. “Did you see Santa Claus?”
    Obviously James's opinion was mixed, starting with, “He wanted me to sit on his lap,” then morphing into, “He just out of the blue asked me what I wanted for Christmas!”
    “What did you tell him?” Julia asked, her eyes lively.
    James’ face fell. “I couldn't think of a thing.” He brightened then. “But I did ask for a house for you.”
    That's kinder than I deserve , Julia thought as she hugged him, breathing in the little boy fragrance she had been missing and thinking of all her complaints. Let me take a page from your book . I know it's not the first time .
    It was a good time to ask. “James, what has been done on the house?”
    “Next to nothing,” came a sleepy voice from the doorway. “I have already abandoned my less-than-spectacular career as a prevaricator.”
    “What's that?” James asked. “Mr. Otto, your hair is rumpled.”
    He grinned and grabbed Julia, who shrieked when he tousled her hair. “Not as bad as Mr. Darling's! Besides, she did it. James, prevaricator is a big word for liar. I found it in Doc's dictionary. I am up to the P's now.”
    “Mr. Otto, you've never told a lie in your life,” James said.
    “Yes I have, and not too long ago,” he murmured. “Julia, point him to the cutlery and plates, and he'll help. You'll have to tell Mr. Darling here how you've been hauling wood for Charlotte.”
    “I like her,” the boy said simply. “So does Matt.”
    Her eyes merry, Julia glanced at Paul, who suddenly looked inscrutable. “How's that wind blowing?”
    “Matt doesn't bother me about my love life, and I don't trouble him about his,” Paul said, clipping his words and sounding remarkably like Mr. Otto. He clapped his hands together. “Big change of subject: Yes, your house—our house—had a foundation with center supports in place and not much else. No time, Julia, just no time.”
    She rested her hand on his shoulder, and he covered her fingers