The Cowboy Who Saved Christmas - Jodi Thomas Page 0,65
I was walking to my demise.
In a way, I was.
I shut my eyes tight against the burn, as I lifted my hand to the doorknob.
“I’m sorry, Daddy,” I whispered. “I’m so, so sorry.”
The knob squeaked as I turned it, and the door gave way to the musty smell of old paper as I walked in. The room was dimmer than the last time I’d been there, a testament to the layer of dust coating the windows.
“Josephine,” Mr. Green bellowed jovially, entering from a back hallway. “Happy birthday, my dear.” He crossed the room as I removed my gloves and took one of my hands in both of his. “What brings you all the way here?”
I blinked, confused. “What—what brings me?” I chuckled bitterly. “What do you think brings me? You said that my deadline was today.”
It was Mr. Green’s turn to blink and be taken aback.
“Yes,” he said.
I widened my eyes. “And so here I am.” I took a deep breath and forced out the words. “I’m letting the bank foreclose. I only ask for a couple of weeks’ grace to get the animals placed and our furniture—”
“Josie.”
The way he said my name stopped me. With fervor and curiosity. Possibly alarm.
“What?”
“The debt has been paid,” he said. “Yesterday evening, before closing. I—I thought you knew.”
My skin prickled with his words. “Yesterday? What—how?” My quickening breaths echoed in my ears. “Who?”
“Benjamin,” he said, as if that was perfectly logical. “Mr. Mason. He—” A shake of his head preceded a worried look in his eyes as he passed a hand over his face. “Josie, I thought you and he had agreed upon this.”
My chest went tight. “Agreed on what?” I managed to wheeze out. “Were there—are there papers? Does he own the Lucky B now? Did something transfer to—” My head went dizzy as the thoughts hit me at lightning speed. “Does he own me?”
I knew that last one wasn’t legitimate. We’d have to marry for that. But what had he done? What did he go behind my back and do now?
I can’t make you trust me.
Well, no damn wonder.
Turning on my heel, I ran from the room, the door swinging open behind me and Mr. Green’s voice calling my name. It was all a distant haze, covered by the ringing in my ears and my blood rushing through my brain. I had one mission, and one destination.
He had tricked me with his pretty words. Again. Let me think he cared for me, when all he wanted was my property. Well, I wouldn’t be obligated to someone who spent his life thinking of new ways to rip my life apart, and I would not be played for a fool. I would find a way to fix this, to get out from under him in every way. And by God, this would be the last conversation I had with Benjamin Mason.
Chapter 14
1904
Ben
“Daddy?”
The sweet little voice called my name again, breaking through the pounding in my skull. I knew I needed to haul my butt up from the chair and go to the tree and see which present she was pointing at this time. Because it would be different from the other fifteen times, and each one was vitally important to her.
“Daddy, did you hear?” she said, padding across the room in her tiny, soft little slippers, a shiny, red-wrapped box cradled in her arms. “Is this the one I get to open tonight?”
“Whichever one you want, sweetheart,” I said, leaning on the arm of the chair as I massaged my right temple. “You can open one gift tonight before Santa comes. One gift from me. You decide.”
“Do you get to open one, too?”
I chuckled. There wouldn’t be one for me. Not yet. Not till after she went to bed and I filled our stockings with gifts from Santa Claus. Then there would be the new knife I’d been eyeing at the tannery and finally bought, and the small tin of strawberry tarts from the bakery. My favorite. Because obviously, Santa had to bring me something, too.
“I’ll wait till tomorrow, bug,” I said. “Tonight is all for you.”
“What did you ask for, Daddy?” Abigail asked. I met her beautiful, innocent hazel gaze.
That was a good question.
Until a few days ago, the answer would have been the same as it had been for the last four years. Peace and love and happiness for her. I was just Abigail’s father. I didn’t need anything for myself. But now . . .