Palomino

9

“Santa… Santa!… Over here…”

“Now just a minute, Sally. You've got to wait for me to come over to that side of the room.” Tate Jordan in the heavy white beard and red velvet costume was slowly making his way around the room, endowing each child with a much awaited present, bestowing candy canes and other candies, pats on the cheek, hugs, and even kisses. It was a side of Tate Jordan that no one knew except the people who saw him do this every year on the ranch. It made one actually believe in Santa, just to watch him chuckle and cavort and pull yet another surprise from his enormous sack. Had he not told her earlier that evening that he was playing Santa, Samantha would never have suspected that it was he. Even his voice sounded different as he chatted and chuckled gently, exhorting children to be good to their mommies and their daddies this year, to stop teasing their little sisters, to do their homework, and to stop being mean to the cat or the dog. He seemed to know everything about everyone, which of course wasn't difficult on a ranch. But as they touched him and were touched by him, the children were ecstatic, and even Samantha was caught up in the magic of his “ho ho ho.” The entire performance seemed to take him hours, and when he was through, after eating a whole plate of cookies and six glasses of milk, he vanished with a last “Ho ho ho” toward the barn, not to be seen again for another year.

Forty-five minutes later, bereft of makeup, padded belly, white wig, and red suit, he reappeared in the main hall, unnoticed as he wandered through the crowd admiring the toys and the dolls and tickling and teasing the children. Soon he made his way to where Samantha stood, with Bill and Caroline, in a simple black velvet skirt with a very pretty white lace blouse. Her hair was knotted loosely at her neck and tied with a black velvet ribbon, and she was wearing makeup for the first time since she had come to the ranch.

“Is that you, Sam?” he teased after accepting a glass of punch and a fervent thank-you to his employer.

“I could say the same to you, you know.” And then in a soft voice, “That was just terrific. Are you that good every year?

“I get better and better.” He grinned happily. The Santa Claus role always made Christmas for him.

“Is your son here?”

“No.” He shook his head quickly. “Jeff's boss isn't as generous as mine.” He smiled at Samantha. “He's working tonight.”

“That's too bad.” She looked genuinely sorry.

“I'll see him tomorrow. And it's all right. He's a big guy now. He doesn't have time for his old man.” But there was no resentment as he said it. He had enjoyed watching his son become a man. For a moment he wanted to ask Samantha why she had had no children, he had been watching her all evening as she hungrily eyed all the little boys and girls, but he finally decided that it was far too personal a question and he settled instead for a question about New York.

“It's a lot colder there, but I don't think I've ever been anywhere where there's as much Christmas spirit as this.”

“That has nothing to do with California. That's Caroline Lord, and nothing else.” Samantha nodded, and this time when they exchanged a smile their eyes met and held.

Shortly thereafter Samantha met Josh's wife and two of his married children, and a number of the men she'd been riding with for the last two weeks sheepishly brought her their wives or their girl friends, their sons and their daughters and their nieces, and for the first time since she'd come there, she knew that she belonged.

“Well, Sam? Very different from your usual Christmas?” Caroline was looking at her with a warm smile and Bill was standing nearby.

“Very different. And I love it.”

“I'm glad.” It was only a few minutes after Caroline had warmly hugged her and wished her a merry Christmas that Samantha noticed that she seemed to have disappeared. And shortly thereafter she realized that the old foreman had too. She wondered how many others had noticed. But Samantha was equally aware of the fact that she never heard any gossip about them on the ranch. She wondered if perhaps she was jumping to inappropriate conclusions. It didn't seem likely that she was, but one never knew.

“Tired?” It was Tate Jordan's voice just above her again, and she turned toward him with a little nod.

“I was just about to go back to the house. I was looking for Aunt Caro, but I guess she's already gone.”

“She always leaves quietly so as not to spoil anyone's fun.” He spoke with nothing but the greatest admiration. It was a bond that he shared with Sam. “Are you ready to go too?” Sam nodded and tried unsuccessfully to squelch a yawn. “Come on, sleepyhead, I'll walk you home.”

“Can I help it if the guy I work for is a slave driver? It's a wonder I don't fall out of my saddle half dead by the end of the day.”

“Once or twice”-he grinned at her-“I thought you might.” And then he laughed out loud. “That first day, Sam, I thought you'd stick it out if you died in the saddle.”

“I almost did. Josh almost had to carry me home.”

“And you still got up on Black Beauty after that! You're crazy!”

“About that horse… yes!” He looked unhappy after she said it, and she changed the subject as they stepped into the frosty night. “Feels like snow.”

“It does, but it's not very likely. At least I hope not.” He looked up at the sky but didn't seem overly concerned. And by then they had already reached the door of the big house, where Sam lived.

Samantha hesitated for a moment and then as she opened the door she stepped aside and looked up at the dark-haired giant with the deep green eyes. “Would you like to come in, Tate, for a glass of wine or a cup of coffee?” But he was quick to shake his head, almost as though she had suggested something outrageous that he could never accept.

“I promise,” she said, grinning at him, “I won't attack you. I'll sit on another couch.” He let out a roar of laughter as she said it, and it was difficult to recognize the man she had been at odds with for more than two weeks.

“It's not that, but ranch etiquette, I guess. This is Miss Caroline's house. It wouldn't be appropriate for me to… it's difficult to explain…”

Samantha smiled at him pleasantly from the doorway. “Would you like me to wake her so she can ask you in herself?”

He rolled his eyes. “Hardly, but thanks for the thought. Another time.”

“Chicken.” She looked like a kid as she stood there, and he laughed.