Christmas Under Western Skies (11 page)

“Now stop that,” Glory fussed, wiping away tears from Julianne's cheeks with her thumbs. “You have surely been blessed to come to this day, and it's a blessing we all share in seeing you and those dear ones embarking on this new life together.”

“The sleigh is here,” Luke bellowed from the foot of the stairs.

“Off you go,” Glory said, giving Julianne one last quick hug.

 

The school had been transformed with ribbons and candles. Laura was holding a nosegay made of dried herbs, and in the vestibule of the school Emma handed Julianne a similar bouquet, enhanced by sprigs of evergreen.

“Ready?”

Julianne nodded and Emma opened the doors a crack and signaled the organist. As soon as they heard the whoosh of the pump organ's bellows, Emma opened the door fully and signaled Laura to start down the short aisle.

Luke moved to Julianne's side and offered her his arm as Emma had taught him to do. “Ready?” he asked and grinned up at her.

Julianne was through the door and partway down the aisle before she looked up and her eyes met Nathan's.

In his gaze she saw so much—the days and months and, God willing, years they would share. The children she hoped they would raise together. The community
they would embrace and help build. And most of all the blessing God had bestowed upon both of them.

God had not turned His back on her, she realized, as she had thought when Luke died. She was the one who had turned away. God had been there all along, patiently waiting for her to come back to the faith of her childhood.

When she was almost to him, Nathan stepped forward and took her hands in his, and together with Laura and Luke, the four of them walked the rest of the way together.

 

The moment the judge pronounced them husband and wife the hall erupted with noisy celebration. The organist pulled out the organ stops assuring the sound would crescendo to its full volume. On both sides of the aisle, women laughed and chattered and men grinned and clapped each other on the backs as if they had just seen a favorite son married. And in the midst of it all, Nathan beamed down at Julianne as if he simply could not believe his good fortune.

“You're supposed to go,” Luke coached, tugging on Nathan's trouser leg. “Miz Putnam said—”

“First they have to kiss,” Laura corrected her brother, “and then they leave.”

The twins looked up at their mother expectantly.

“Miz Putnam has spoken,” Nathan said, and held out his arms to her.

When they kissed there was a shout of approval from the men and shushing from the women, but when they
turned to make their way back up the aisle, everyone was smiling at them and several women were dabbing at their eyes with lace handkerchiefs.

Emma had insisted that she and Jacob host the wedding reception. “Your home is serviceable, Julianne, but hardly large enough for such occasions. Besides, this way those fools intent on racing to be the first to kiss the bride will have a shorter distance in which to break their necks.”

 

As it turned out, Sam Foster was the first man through the door, other than the bridal couple and their hosts.

He seemed inclined to ignore the tradition, but young Luke called him on it.

“You have to kiss Mama—it's tradition,” the boy instructed.

Sam leaned in and gave Julianne a dry peck on her forehead. “Be happy, child,” he muttered.

“I am,” she promised, as she caressed his weathered cheek. “Thank you, Sam, for everything.”

“It should be Glory and me thanking you. You and Big Luke made us welcome on the trail out here, and now here you are starting fresh.”

At that moment, the entrance to the large house was filled with guests all jostling for a position to extend their best wishes to the bridal couple before moving on into the Putnam dining room for an impressive spread of food.

“How come me and Laura have to stay with Miz
Foster tonight?” Luke asked when a quiet had fallen over the room as everyone ate.

“Laura and I,” Julianne corrected automatically. “And it's because…” She faltered for the best explanation, looking to Glory for help.

“It's tradition,” Glory said. “Now eat your supper or there will be no cake for you, young man.”

“But—”

“Come on,” Laura said, nudging her brother into the next room. “Let's go sit on the stairs. I'll explain it all to you later.”

The rest of the reception went by so fast it was as if Julianne and Nathan were living in a dream. Before they knew it they were being bundled into the Putnam's sleigh. Jacob handed Nathan the reins. “See you tomorrow,” he said. He gave the horse a smack on its rump and they were off.

“I like your hat,” Julianne said, suddenly shy with her new husband.

“The men gave it to me—a wedding present.” He was nervous as well, and that was comforting to his new wife.

She placed her gloved hand on his and he glanced at her and smiled.

By the time they reached their farm, Julianne's head was resting on his shoulder and she had given into the overwhelming exhaustion of an exciting day.

Nathan reined the horse to a stop and kissed her fore head. “You go on in,” he said. “I'll unhitch the horse and
see to the other animals.” He climbed down and came around to lift her to the ground.

They stood for a minute holding each other under the star-filled sky. “I love you, Mrs. Cook.”

“Captain, my captain,” she whispered and stood on tiptoe to kiss him.

Inside, she stirred the embers of the fire they had left that morning and considered putting on some water for tea, then hearing the whinny of the Putnam's horse, she ran to the window instead. She wanted to see him, to never let him out of her sight. She wanted to remind herself just how blessed she and the children were that this good and gentle man had come into their lives. “Thank you, God,” she whispered as she watched him stroke the horse's mane and lead the animal under shelter for the night. “Thank you for all the blessings you have brought to this house.”

She had bowed her head and closed her eyes on this last prayer, and when she opened them, she noticed tiny green shoots peeking out of the black earth of several tin cans. She ran to the other window hardly daring to believe her eyes. It was the same there.

She ran to the door and threw it open. “Nathan, we have apple trees,” she cried. “Come see.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him to the window.

“Well look at that,” he said huskily, and closed his eyes for a long moment. When he opened them he took Julianne in his arms and held her, rocking from side to side.

“Come on,” he said grabbing a quilt from the bed and wrapping her in it.

“Nathan, it's nearly midnight and it's freezing,” she protested, but she was laughing and she followed him willingly.

Outside, he led her to the small grove of apple trees. “Think of it, Julianne. Trees to the horizon and just there…” He pointed to a low rise that protected a part of the land nearest the river. “We'll build our house and raise our children and cradle our grandchildren and—”

“Stop. You're making us old before our time,” Julianne protested, but she was holding him, hugging him to her as they dreamed of the future they would share with God's blessing. She looked up and saw the stars lighting the black of the night and she felt a peace she had not known for over a year.

“Thank you,” she whispered to the heavens just before Nathan kissed her. Then he scooped her into his arms and continued kissing her all the way back to the little sod house that in that moment she decided they would always keep to remind them of how truly blessed they had been.

Dear Reader,

It always amazes (and inspires) me when I reach a point in the story that calls for some detail that will be unique to the story. I was very troubled by what gift Nathan might choose to give Julianne for Christmas. Then, without even being aware of my writing dilemma, my husband surprised me on Christmas morning with the most beautiful alabaster heart, and a note that is mine to keep and yours to imagine, that made this heart very, very special for me. The next time I sat down to write the scene where Julianne opens the gift Nathan has left her, I had no problem at all knowing what was inside that box. It was his declaration of love—his heart given to her. Whether you are reading this over the holidays or at some other time of the year, I hope you will find the story of Julianne and Nathan's return to faith and love one that touches you and inspires you to remember that opening your heart to others is a sure path to everlasting joy.

All best wishes to you in this season of faith, joy and love.

1. Have you or someone close to you suffered the loss of your first love, and if so, what are your memories of the journey that followed that loss?
   
2. How would you answer someone who had suffered a tragedy and asked you how God could let such a thing happen?
   
3. What role does faith play in Julianne's reaction to the death of her husband, Luke? How does that role change by the end of the story?
   
4. In many ways, the homesteaders who formed the community of Homestead are extended family for one another. What makes the bond they share so unique?
   
5. When Nathan chooses marrying Julianne over going to California to reunite with his brother, do you think he made the right choice? Why, or why not?
   
6. Is Julianne making the right choice in insisting that she secure the land for her children, or is she simply being stubborn? What are your reasons for choosing one decision over the other?
   
7. Think about an issue you may be wrestling with in your life, and consider whether or not there are ways that God is guiding you in a certain direction.
   

Linda Ford

Christmas is a favorite holiday made all the more special by family gatherings. This book is dedicated to my family. Without you my Christmas celebration would be dull and uneventful.
Thanks to each one of you for making my life full, busy and joyful. I love you.

For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.

—
John
3:16

1888 Canadian Rockies

A
murmur of voices warned eighteen-year-old Winnie Lockwood she'd overslept. Hay tickled her nose and throat. Cold touched her back where the hay had shifted away leaving her exposed.

Exposed! If she was discovered…

She wiggled, but her movement made so much noise she drew in her breath and held it, praying she hadn't been noticed. She cupped her hand to her nose and mouth, forcing back a cough from the dust. The hay had been fragrant and welcoming last night, when she'd sought refuge and warmth. Today she was aware of the musty scent and imagined bugs creeping along her skin. It took every ounce of self-control to keep from squirming.

“I'll fork up feed for the animals,” a male voice called.

Was it friendly? Harsh? Dangerous?

One thing Winnie had learned was, you could never be certain what lay beneath the surface of a voice or a face. A kind face readily enough disguised a mean spirit and kind words often enough proved false.

“We need to head for town in good time.”

The voice had grown perilously close. She could almost feel the tines of a feed fork pierce her skin, and she bolted upright, gaining her feet in a flurry of hay.

She sneezed and swiped her hands over her very untidy coat.

“Who are you? What are you doing in my barn?”

The masculine voice had deepened several degrees and carried a clear warning.

Holding her arms out in a gesture she hoped indicated she meant no harm and had no weapon, she faced the man. Not much older than she, his chin jutted out in a challenging way. Knowing her life depended on a quick evaluation, she took in his dark eyes, the way he'd pulled his Stetson low, how he balanced on the balls of his feet, the pitch fork at ready for defense. A man who would not give an inch, who would tolerate no nonsense. The thought both frightened and appealed.

“I mean no harm. Just looking for a place out of the cold. I'll be on my way now.” She glanced toward the door and escape, and made as if to lower her arms, testing his reaction.

“Now hang on. How am I to know you didn't steal something?”

She grinned openly. “Don't hardly see how I'd fit a horse or even a saddle under my coat.”

A deep chuckle came from behind the man. “Think she's got a point.” An older man, with a grizzled, three-day growth of beard and eyes flashing with amusement, stepped closer. “Seems you should be a little more concerned with why a pretty young woman is sleeping in your barn, than whether or not she might hide a horse beneath her coat.”

The younger man grunted. “More likely she's a front for something else.” He shook the fork threateningly. “How many others are there?”

Winnie wiggled her hands. “I'm alone.”

“Head for the door and no sudden moves.” He waved the fork again and she decided she didn't want to question his sincerity in using it.

“I tell you, I only wanted someplace to get out of the wind.” She was on her way to Banff and a job at the sanitorium, but had run out of funds at Long Valley and started walking, hoping to arrive under her own steam or get a ride. Instead, darkness and cold had found her searching for a place to spend the night. She'd planned to slip into the barn for a few hours and be gone again before anyone discovered her.

“Now, Derek—” The older man sounded placating. “Don't be hasty.”

“Hasty? Kathy is alone in the house. If your accomplices have—” He indicated she should move.

“My bag.”

“Uncle Mac, grab that.”

Winnie edged across the expanse to draw the door open and stepped outside, breathing deeply of the fresh air. The day was sunny with a promise of warmth later on. A welcome change from the cold wind of last night that threatened snow and drove her to sleep in the barn of this man. At least there was a Kathy. That gave her hope for a little generosity that would let her get on her way without any more complications.

Sensing the man would not take kindly to her bolting for freedom, and knowing she'd never outrun him, she marched toward the simple ranch house, one-story with a verandah across the side. Welcoming enough under normal circumstances. She kicked the dust from her shoes before she stepped to the wooden floor of the verandah.

“Wait right there.” It was the man called Derek. “Your friends have any sort of firearm?”

“I told you—”

“Answer the question.” He nudged her with the tines of the fork. They didn't pierce her coat, but she jerked away, not caring to tempt him to push a little harder.

“Now, son, don't be doing anything rash.”

“Uncle Mac, I am not prepared to take any chances. Especially when it comes to Kathy's safety.” His voice grew gravely, as if Kathy meant more than anything else to him. Seems he was a man who cared deeply. Something quivered in the pit of Winnie's stomach—a familiar, forbidden feeling rolled up in denial. She tried to force anger into that place to quench it but failed miserably. Something in the way this man was prepared to
fight assailants, numbers and strength unknown, poured emptiness into her soul. She pushed aside the foolishness. She was headed for Banff and a job. She wanted nothing more.

“I understand that.” The older man, Uncle Mac, edged forward. “Why don't I have a look?”

“Be careful. I don't trust her.”

Winnie snorted. “Who'd have guessed it?”

Uncle Mac shot her an amused look that fled in an instant when Derek made a discouraging sound. The older man edged forward, slowly opened the door and peeked around. “Don't see nothing.”

Winnie bit back a foolish desire to ask if they lived in an unfurnished house.

“Do you see Kathy?

“Nope. Nothing.”

“Go in slow and easy. We'll be right behind you. And I warn you, miss, don't make a sound to alert your friends or I'll be forced to jab this fork in up to its hilt.”

Uncle Mac drew his head back and glanced over his shoulder. “You'll do no such thing.” Without waiting for Derek's reply he slipped into the house.

Winnie followed. She'd laugh at all this unnecessary drama except she wasn't sure what Derek's reaction would be and he did carry a sharp pitchfork with long tines.

As if to reinforce her doubts, he murmured, “Don't think I'm a softy like Uncle Mac.”

“Oh, no, sir. I surely wouldn't make that mistake.”
She tried her hardest to keep the amusement from her voice but wondered if she'd succeeded. What would it be like to have a man as ready to defend her as Derek was to defend Kathy? Aching swelled in a spot behind her eyes.

She stepped into the room. A big farm kitchen with evidence of lots of living. Messy enough to be welcoming…for the people who belonged here.

“Check her bedroom.”

Uncle Mac tiptoed through a doorway.

Winnie grinned, grateful the man behind her couldn't guess how much enjoyment she got from all this.

Uncle Mac returned, a little girl at his side. Winnie put her at about nine or ten.

“She was playing on her bed. As blissful as a lamb.” He ruffled the child's already untidy hair.

This must be Kathy.

Winnie studied the girl. Brown hair, beautiful brown eyes, with the innocence of childhood tarnished. Where was the mother? Which of these men was the father?

The child's eyes widened with curiosity when she saw Winnie. “Who's that?” She bent sideways to see Derek. “How come you got a fork pushed into her back, huh, Derek?”

Guess that meant Uncle Mac was the father.

Derek parked the fork by the door. “So you
are
alone?”

Alone? In more ways than he could imagine. “Just like I said.”

“About time we showed some hospitality.” Uncle Mac
headed for the stove. “Kathy, set the table for four and we'll have breakfast.”

Winnie's stomach growled in anticipation. She pretended she didn't notice.

Kathy giggled.

“Kat.” Derek warned. “Your manners.” His voice was as gentle as summer dew. Winnie blinked as the ache behind her eyeballs grew larger, more intense.

The child scurried to put out four plates, and Uncle Mac broke a stack of eggs into a fry pan.

Winnie followed every movement of his hands. She hoped she'd be allowed a generous portion of those eggs. She'd eaten only once yesterday, and heaven alone knew where she'd get the next meal after she left here.
Lord, you know my need. Provide as You have promised.

“Sit,” Uncle Mac nodded toward a chair. “Tell us your name.”

Winnie gave it as she moved the stack of socks and mittens to the floor and sat. Her mouth flooded with saliva like a river suddenly thawed. Her plate had a rim of grease but she didn't wipe it off. She'd have eaten off the table if she had to. Or the floor for that matter.

“I'm Mac Adams. You've met my nephew, Derek. This is my niece, Kathy.” His expression softened as he turned to the girl.

Winnie nodded a gracious hello.

Uncle Mac scooped generous piles of eggs to three plates and a tiny portion to Kathy's. He sat at Winnie's right. “Shall we give thanks?”

Grateful for the food and the temporary reprieve,
Winnie silently poured out her thanks as Uncle Mac spoke his aloud.

“Amen,” he said.

“Amen,” Winnie echoed with heartfelt sincerity.

Kathy giggled.

Derek cleared his throat, his warning glance full of affection, and Kathy ducked her head over her breakfast.

Winnie pushed away the longing that threatened to unhitch a wagonload of tears. She only wanted to be on her way to Banff. Winnie forced herself to eat slowly, ladylike.

Uncle Mac picked up the dishes as soon as he was certain she was finished, and added them to the stack on the cupboard by the stove. “Now, young lady, let's hear why you're alone and spending the night in a barn.”

She'd known this question was coming, but still hadn't figured out an answer. Her conscience wouldn't allow her to lie. But neither would she tell the whole truth. “Got lost.”

“From who and from where?” Derek's question was far more demanding.

“I thought I was on the main road. Obviously I was wrong.” She pushed her chair back. “Thank you for the food. Much appreciated. Let me clean up the dishes in exchange, then I'll head back to town.”

“No need,” Derek protested. “We can manage without help.”

Kathy leaned forward, her expression eager. “I don't mind if she helps.”

At the same time, Uncle Mac said, “If it's a ride to town you're needing, we'll take you when we go.”

They all ground to a halt and tried to sort their conversations out.

Winnie chuckled. “I'll be happy to do the dishes and I'd welcome a ride to town.”

Derek looked ready to protest, but Kathy bounced from the table and Uncle Mac slapped his thighs. “It's settled then.”

Derek got to his feet so fast Winnie wondered if something had bitten him. “You two stay here while I finish chores and get the wagon ready.”

“I'll be along,” Uncle Mac said.

“Stay here.” He paused halfway across the room and muttered, “No way I'm leaving Kathy alone with her.” The door banged shut after him, then swung open again and he grabbed the fork. The slap of the second closing echoed through the room.

And reverberated in Winnie's heart, striking at the feelings she struggled so hard to deny. To have someone who cared that much was a dream beyond her reach.

Winnie pushed to her feet and tackled the stack of dishes, using water hot enough to dissolve the buildup of grease and redden her hands.

Uncle Mac wandered out of the room, leaving her alone with Kathy. She handed the child a drying towel.

Kathy's chin jutted out. Her eyes flashed all sorts of emotions.

She'd try to sidetrack the child. “Shouldn't you be in school?”

Kathy lifted her head. “I get to miss school today because we're going to get my new nanny.”

“I see. What happened to your last one?”

“She got married.” Tears welled up. “Why couldn't she be happy with us? Now I got to get used to someone else. I hate it. They always have new rules. It makes me sad and mad all at the same time.”

Sad and angry explained perfectly the way Winnie felt most of her life. A bitter tenderness touched a place in her heart, that this child should experience the same pain. She closed her eyes and steeled away the gall in her throat, the churn in her chest. As soon as they were under control she concentrated on the girl at her side.
Lord, help me say something to help her before I depart.
“I've felt that way many times. It's pretty confusing.”

Tears glittered in Kathy's eyes as she nodded.

Winnie dropped her hand to a thin shoulder, felt the child tense but didn't remove her hand. “It sometimes seems the feelings are eating up your insides, doesn't it?”

Kathy choked back a sob.

“Kathy, it's alright to feel sad. People come and go. Things change. Nothing stays the same except who you are in here.” She touched the child's chest. “Nothing can take that away from you. One thing that helps me when I'm feeling bad is to remember God loves me. He holds me in His hands. I am never alone.”

“I just want someone with arms to love me.”

“I know.” Oh, how she knew. But she'd outgrown the need. Now all she wanted was a job, a place to keep warm and no reason to expect more than room and wages. “You have Derek and your Uncle Mac.” Uncle Mac seemed kindly and gentle; Derek, an appealing combination of tough and tender. She tried to stifle a longing for devotion like she'd witnessed. She wrenched her thoughts back into order. Not only did she know nothing about Derek, she knew enough not to seek after things unavailable to her.

“I miss my mama.” Tears flowed unchecked, leaving a dirty streak on Kathy's face.

Winnie flung about in her thoughts for an answer. Something to help this child deal with her situation. For a heartbeat, she imagined staying for a time and teaching Kathy ways to deal with her sorrow. But she was done working for families. Wanting to belong. Knowing she didn't. Even when she thought she had reason to believe otherwise. “Honey, where's your mama?”