Chapter 36
Chapter Thirty-Six
The town of Elkhorn was divided into two distinct parties on Christmas Eve.
Toward the center of town, the management of the Silver Elk Hotel had moved the shiny statue in the lobby and replaced it with a large Christmas tree.
The branches were weighed down and decorated with an abundant quantity of colorful, hand-painted ornaments.
All imported from Germany, folks were saying.
Inside their dining room, the Christmas Eve reception spread rivaled dishes being served in New York and Philadelphia on this very same night.
The guest list had been carefully reviewed and approved by Judge Patterson.
The reason for the exclusive nature of the event was that sometime during the past couple of months, the Ladies’ Event Planning Committee’s vision for the celebration on Christmas Eve had parted ways with what the judge had in mind.
Some members of the committee—one in particular—had taken exception to the idea of leaving folks out.
So, toward the eastern end of town, a huge tent—the kind usually seen over the heads of elephants and tumblers and flashy ladies standing on equally flashy horses—had been erected in Main Street, more or less under the nose of the great man.
Just a few doors up from the judge’s building, the tent started outside the door of the Belle Saloon and covered quite a bit of ground.
Inside the canvas hall, a temporary wood floor had been put down for dancing.
There was a platform set up for the saloon’s piano, a fiddler, an accordion player, and a banjo man.
Tables and chairs had been carried out from the Belle and several other saloons and set up with white cotton cloth coverings for folks to sit at while enjoying the festivities.
At the far end of the dance floor, a tall tree had been set up and adorned with colored ribbons, brightly painted pinecones, and an assortment of silver and gold ornaments.
Not far from the tent, thousands of blocks of ice had been used to construct a huge ‘ice palace’.
With two giant bonfires burning at a safe distance from the tent, the palace glistened as if it had walls of polished gold.
As the evening drew near, every boy and girl in town had decided that the grown-ups could have the tent; the ice palace belonged to them.
Operating on that belief, children were swarming happily through the arched gate, over the walls, and battling noisily for possession of the two squat towers.
Beyond the ice palace, a prayer service would be held at midnight. A new traveling preacher had been hoping that both factions in the town would come together on Main Street to celebrate the Christ Child’s birth.
Most of the Christmas festivities had been paid for through the generosity of Belle Constant.
Inside her saloon, the bar was gorgeously trimmed with red calico and a long, white cloth.
Sprays of evergreen bound with red, white and green plaid ribbon—the contribution of the Scotsman behind the bar—had been hung between the looking glass panels.
Broken lamp shades boasted new ones. And for first time in the history of that celebrated building, the floor had been scrubbed, sanded, and scrubbed again.
No other saloon in Elkhorn could boast such elegance.
Indeed, the Belle had a glow to it that hadn’t been seen for years.
The owner herself was resplendent in finery newly imported from St. Louis, watchfully overseeing the final preparations, both inside the saloon and in the canvas hall as well.
All afternoon, she and her girls—also arrayed in their most demure yet colorful dresses—had been cordially welcoming ladies from town who had appeared, sometimes timidly, bearing food and baked goods for the evening’s festivities.
Most of the women had never even peeked in the door of the Belle, never mind stepped foot inside.
By the time the pale sun gave up its battle and descended behind the wintry clouds at the horizon, all was in readiness.
Kegs of brandy and baskets of cognac, champagne, and other wines were appropriately positioned and staffed by the Belle’s capable employees.
The musicians struck up their tunes at six, and the celebration began with toasts, songs, dancing, speeches, and eventually a champagne supper. Fat hens, quails, steaks, hares, pound cakes, and pies were consumed and washed down with prodigious amounts of alcohol.
Around eight o’clock, Caleb found Doc Burnett on the sidewalk in front of the Belle, talking with Bass Dart, Duke Ortiz, and Tex Washington.
The wounded cowboy was standing and using crutches, but Caleb had to take a second look at the young man.
Tex was sporting a new extension to his leg, from the knee down.
“What do you think, Marlowe?” Doc asked as he joined the group. “Tex’s new leg arrived two days ago.”
Having served as a surgeon during the war, Doc was well informed about the latest improvements to designs of artificial limbs. Caleb had heard Henry say that Duke Ortiz was paying for it.
“How does it feel?” Caleb asked.
The young man took a couple of steps up and down the sidewalk and held it out for inspection. “I’m standing. Won’t be doing much dancing, but I’m getting around.”
Duke slapped his cowpuncher on the back. “We’ll save that for next Christmas. Now, let’s go get some more of that there pie before these gringos eat it all.”
As the three Texas cattlemen went for the dessert tables, Doc and Caleb looked around them at the crowds.
“How come you ain’t over at Patterson’s party at the Silver Elk?” Caleb asked.
“I was invited.” Doc grinned at his friend. “But I had a strong feeling that Sheila didn’t want me to go.”
“No?”
“To be clear, I believe she said something about shooting me in the leg if I so much as took a step into that lobby.”
“She got a beef with the judge? What about?”
Doc looked steadily into Caleb’s face. “You, my friend. She wasn’t at all pleased with the way he tried to run you out of Elkhorn. And that daughter of mine apparently has a gift for holding grudges.”
Caleb wasn’t surprised to hear any of that. Sheila spoke her mind and had no trouble calling a spade a spade.
He pulled a wrapped parcel bound with twine from inside of his coat. “I got you a gift. Hope that’s all right.”
Doc smiled and pulled a wrapped parcel out of his pocket, as well. “And I have something for you.”
Good thing Henry wasn’t around. For sure, he’d take exception to Caleb having a gift for Doc and not for him. He waited, watching the older man open his first.
“Thought maybe you could use a few pointers.”
“That’s too funny.” Doc stared at the copy of Phillip Stamma’s Noble Game of Chess. “Open yours, wiseacre.”
Caleb opened the gift and let out a snort. The two of them had bought the same thing for the other.
Doc tucked his copy into his coat pocket. “I guess that means neither one of us will have an unfair advantage over the other.”
“Nope. But you might want to keep that hid from Sheila. She’s bound to be beating us both regular by summer, as it is.”
Caleb saw Gabe and Paddy over by the ice palace, so he took his leave of Doc and strode down the street to talk to them.
They were both wearing the gifts he’d given them earlier—the same black, wide-brimmed hats that he wore.
“Gabe, your folks here?” he asked, glancing around.
“They’re coming over a little later,” Gabe replied. “Pa wanted to make sure the livery was locked up for the night.”
Speaking to Malachi, Caleb had learned that the cousins were due to arrive any day.
“I’ll be looking for ’em.” Caleb gestured toward Paddy. “Mind if I have a private word with this bandit?”
“Sure enough.” Gabe pointed to one of the palace towers. “I’ll be storming that one when you’re done.”
“Everything all right?” Paddy asked, worry in his voice.
“Yep, I got something I want to ask you.” Caleb placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder.
He knew what he wanted to say, but the words were having a hard time forming. This was going to be a big step for all of them.
“I’d like you to pack your things over at the Rogers’s place and move out to the ranch with me and Henry next week.”
Paddy stared, looking like a statue for a few seconds. His eyes finally blinked, and a couple of tears fell on his cheeks. “You mean it?”
Caleb nodded. “I want you out there. We both want you out there. Hell, Bear wants you out there.”
“You mean, for a little while?”
“I mean for good.”
“For good?” Paddy repeated. The back of the sleeve went to his face as he wiped away tears. “I was hoping, you know. But I…I didn’t think after the fire and all…”
Caleb pulled Paddy into his arms. He wasn’t too used to displays of affection, but he figured he could get used to it. “Seems like Christmas is a fine time for finding family.”
The boy stayed there for a few moments. When he finally pulled away, he nodded to Caleb. “You won’t be sorry. I promise. I’ll make you proud of me.”
“I know you will.”
Paddy ran off toward the palace, calling out to his friend.
“Gabe!” The boy’s words came back to Caleb over the voices of the other children. “Gabe, I got a family!”
The words hit home. And it wasn’t a bad feeling.
He was still thinking of finding family when he realized Doc Burnett was standing alone near one of the bonfires, warming his hands.
But Caleb still had something he needed to do. Without giving himself time to think any more about it, he strode to the fire.
Doc looked up. “Marlowe, you look like a man carrying something heavy.”
“Maybe.”
The doctor studied him for a moment. “Everything all right?”
Caleb nodded. Then shook his head. Then nodded again.
Doc laughed. “That bad, is it?”
“Doc...”
The older man immediately grew serious.
“I’d like to ask you something.”
Doc folded his arms.
“Go on.”
Caleb looked toward the tent where Sheila was waiting for them.
“I’d like your permission to marry your daughter.”
For a moment Doc said nothing.
The sounds of music and laughter drifted across Main Street. Then the doctor's eyes softened.
“About damn time.”