Page 39 of The Cowboy's Christmas
“His head istoo small.” Jessa scowled at Quinn.
Quinn backed up and cocked his head, pretending to study the softball-size snowball he’d put onto the snowman body. “Really?
“Yes, silly.” Jessa made a swipe in the air with her mitten to make her point.
“Do you think it’s too small?” he asked Sophie, who gave him a sour look in return.
He let out a heavy sigh and took the snowball off the body. “What now?”
Sophie held out her hands and Quinn put the snowball in it. She dropped to the ground and began rolling it in the damp snow until it was about the size of a basketball, her sister directing her when to stop.
“Now,” she said, getting to her feet.
Quinn put the ball on the body and studied it again. “Maybe you were right.”
“We. Were.” Jessa said. “Now we gotta make a face.”
“Guess we do,” Quinn agreed. He shot a quick look through the kitchen window where he could see Savannah scrubbing cupboards. He wondered if she’d sent Deke back to his chair. A small hand tugged at his coat, and he glanced down at Jessa.
“We have some stuff in the barn we can use for a face.”
“Really?”
He got two adamant nods in return.
“Come on,” Jessa said, holding out a hand. Sophie did the same, and Quinn found himself being tugged across the yard toward the barn. Only the girls didn’t go through the bay door, but instead led him to a side door.
“Uncle Deke took us in here. There’s lots of stuff.”
Sure enough, there was a lot of stuff in what appeared to be a wood and metal shop/storage space. There were boards and scrap lumber along one wall, a bench and saws along the adjoining wall. Directly across the room from the door were shelves, which held boxes and bins.
Jessa ran across the room and pulled a box toward her. She pulled off the lid and held up a tinsel garland. “Deke said we can pick some stuff to put on our tree when it’s time, but maybe our snowman can wear some of this.”
Quinn crossed the room to inspect the box of decorations. More garlands, some small Christmas balls, a few ceramic angels.
“This is the kid box. The pretty stuff is in that one.” Sophie pointed to a bin at head height.
“Did he show it to you?”
“He said we could see it later when we put stuff on the tree. That’s our tree.”
She pointed to the corner where a small, dust-covered, white-flocked wannabe Christmas tree stood.
“Nice,” Quinn said softly, wondering how many years the tree had stood in the corner. And yes, at three feet high, it was indeed a table-top tree.
Wow.
Not your Christmas.
No, it was not, but one constant in his childhood had been celebrations at Christmas and on birthdays. No matter where he was or how new he was to whichever community his mom had landed in, celebrations rocked.
“Okay,” he said, reaching for the garland box. “Let’s see what we have.”
A few minutes later the girls were carrying short garlands and a variety of small balls across the driveway to where the snowman stood.
“Let me make a hole,” Quinn said, “and then we can press them into the snow for eyes and buttons.”
“What about a mouth?” Jessa asked.
