The Cowboy Who Saved Christmas - Jodi Thomas Page 0,78

helped himself to some coffee. “I don’t know how we can thank you for what you’ve done for us.”

After the boys finished their breakfast, Whitt cleaned the pans and tucked them in a pack. He thanked Clint again for the provisions. “If things aren’t better in La Grange, why don’t you come find us? We can pan until we see how things turn out at home.”

“I’ll see. But if the disease is over in La Grange, I’ll get word to you,” Clint promised as he lifted the boys onto the horse. He pulled Whitt aside so the boys couldn’t hear his next question. “Do you have plenty of ammunition? You never can be too careful on the road.”

Whitt nodded. “Yes, that’s one thing I have. I’m a good shot with a pistol and a rifle. And I’ve been teaching the boys to shoot.”

“Good. Take care, Whitt.”

The men shook hands, and Clint walked back to the boys to say goodbye.

“Mr. Mitchum, I wish you would come with us. What if no one is left in La Grange and you’re there all alone?” Bo asked.

Clint reached up and ruffled his hair. He found the young boy’s concern touching. “If that happens, I’ll find you.”

“Don’t forget we’ll be at Honey Creek. You’d be welcome,” Whitt reminded him.

Clint told them goodbye and they rode off in opposite directions. Looking back, Clint saw two tiny hands waving to him. He lifted his hat in farewell.

Chapter 2

Reining in at the front door of his ranch, Clint jumped from Reb and bounded up the stairs in two long strides. Grasping the door handle, he hesitated long enough to take a deep, bracing breath, preparing himself for whatever he might find on the other side. Opening the door slowly, he walked inside, the thump of his boots echoing around the silent room. “Ma?”

No response. He walked through the front room to the back bedroom. The door was slightly ajar, and when he pushed it open, he saw the bed was empty. His mother’s favorite handstitched quilt embroidered with lilies of the valley was neatly draped over the feather mattress. Glancing around the room, he saw nothing out of place. It looked exactly as he remembered, neat and tidy, just as his mother left it every morning. Clint swiped his hand over his face. He didn’t want to think about what he would find outside.

He ran from the room, not stopping until he reached the small knoll a hundred yards from the back of the house. Clutching the gate leading to the family cemetery, Clint stood with his heart in his throat, scanning mounds of earth beneath the massive white oak tree. Grass had not yet covered the four freshly dug graves. He slowly opened the gate and walked inside, remorse heavy on his shoulders. Unlike the other graves of past generations, there were no markers—no one left to see to that last task of memorializing a life. Clint reminded himself he hadn’t been there to handle that chore. Removing his hat, he stood silently, not praying as much as regretting. He glanced up at the old oak spreading its strong limbs as if protecting those buried beneath. That old tree had seen a lot of death. He was the only Mitchum left. He’d been so selfish, thinking only of what he needed while his mother had to face the loss of those dear to her all alone. His regrets were too many to count.

Much later, Clint fed and brushed his horses before he stabled them. He walked back to the house, hung his hat on the hook inside the door and looked around at what once had been a vibrant household. The stillness of the room made him feel more alone than he’d ever felt. He wished he could sleep for a week and awake to find this had all been a nightmare. Yet, he knew sleep would evade him again tonight. After making some coffee, he walked to the rocking chair by the fireplace. Seeing something in the chair, he reached down and picked up an old, tattered cloth doll. He sat down in the rocker with the doll in his hand, wondering who had left it behind. The poor thing had seen better days. The doll’s threadbare dress, made from an old flour sack with faded yellow flowers, might have been pretty a long time ago. One button eye was missing, and the other eye was broken, leaving only a small fragmented piece behind. That eye