A Lone Star Christmas by William W. Johnstone Page A

he would, Tom asked Rebecca for the first dance, and they were in the square nearest the band.
    The music began, with the fiddles loud and clear, the guitars carrying the rhythm, the accordion providing the counterpoint, and a twanging jew’s harp heard over everything. The caller began to shout, and he stomped his feet and danced around on the platform in compliance with his own calls. He was the center of fascinated attention from those who weren’t dancing, as the caller bowed and whirled just as if he had a girl and was in one of the squares himself. The dancers moved and swirled to the caller’s commands.
    Around the dance floor sat those who were without partners, looking on wistfully. At the punch bowl table, cowboys continued to add their own ingredients, and though many drank from the punch bowl, the contents of the punch bowl never seemed to diminish.
    â€œTell me, Tom,” Rebecca said after about the fourth dance. “Would an Eastern girl ever ask a man to take her for a walk? Or is that something only a Western girl would do?”
    â€œA gentleman would welcome the invitation whether it came from an Eastern girl or a Western girl,” Tom replied. He offered her his arm.
    â€œThank you for that considerate response, sir,” she answered with a smile, putting her hand through his arm.
    Leaving the dance floor, they stepped up onto the boardwalk, then walked, arm in arm, south down North Main Street.
    Behind them, the lights around the dance floor glittered brightly. The rest of the town was dark, or nearly so. Overhead there was just the barest sliver of a moon, but the sky was filled with stars.
    â€œHave you ever seen anything so beautiful?” Rebecca asked.
    â€œNo,” Tom replied. “I haven’t.”
    There was something in the tone of Tom’s voice that caused Rebecca to look back at him and when she did, she saw that he was staring at her.
    â€œI mean the sky,” she said, self consciously.
    Tom looked up. “Oh, yes,” he said. “That too.”
    Rebecca smiled. “Maybe we should get back to the dance,” she suggested.
    â€œAll right. I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.”
    Rebecca did feel uncomfortable, but not for the reason Tom was suggesting. She was uncomfortable with herself. She felt a very strong attraction to him, and she knew that it could only lead to a dead end.
    When they returned to the dance floor, the dancing had stopped because of some sort of disturbance.
    â€œI wonder what’s going on?” Tom asked.
    â€œI don’t know, I—oh dear, it’s Dalton.”
    Dalton, Rebecca’s younger brother, was her half-brother, actually, since they shared the same father but different mothers.
    There were several cowboys gathered around Dalton, and they were yelling at him.
    â€œWhat we ought to do is take you over to the stock barn and string you up,” one of the cowboys said.
    â€œWhat’s wrong? What did my brother do?” Rebecca said, stepping into the middle of them, putting herself between the angry cowboys and Dalton.
    â€œHe, uh, well, I don’t want to say it,” one of the cowboys said.
    â€œAsk him what he done,” one of the other cowboys said. “See if he’s man enough to tell you.”
    Rebecca turned toward Dalton, who was standing there rather sheepishly. “What did you do, Dalton?” she asked.
    â€œIt was a joke,” Dalton said. “I didn’t mean anything by it. It was just a joke, that’s all.”
    â€œWhat did you do?” Rebecca asked again.
    â€œI—uh—peed in the punchbowl.”
    â€œYou did what?” Rebecca shouted at him.
    â€œIt was a joke,” Dalton said again.
    â€œDalton, you’re my brother, so I’m bound to take your side,” Rebecca said. She pointed to the angry cowboys. “But if they beat you to within an inch of your life, I wouldn’t blame them one