Christmas Under Western Skies (12 page)

“In heaven. She died in an accident. She and Peter and Susan. Only I didn't. And 'course, Derek, but he wasn't with us.”

She guessed that made Derek Kathy's brother. “I'm so sorry. I expect your mama loved you.”

“Lots and lots.”

“And I expect she liked to see you happy.”

Kathy's tears stopped and she smiled. “Mama used to tickle me just to hear me laugh, she said.”

“So if your mama could hear you, she'd want most to hear you laugh, I suppose.”

Kathy nodded.

“What if she
can
hear you?”

Kathy shook her head. “She's in heaven with Papa. But I don't remember Papa.”

“Jesus can hear you.”

Kathy waited for her to continue, her eyes wide with consideration.

“I expect He can tell your mama if you laugh or don't.” She wasn't sure if people in heaven saw their loved ones on earth or not, but of course Jesus could. She had no qualms about assuring Kathy that.

“I guess so all right.” Kathy seemed intrigued by the idea.

“So, even though it's all right to be sad and angry once in a while, don't forget to laugh for your mama.”

Kathy brightened. “I won't.”

Winnie finished washing the dishes, then poured boiling water on the table and set to scrubbing it.

By the time Derek returned the kitchen was clean, the dishpan hung behind the stove, the towels draped over hooks to dry.

Kathy played with a well-worn stuffed doll.

“Uncle Mac,” Derek roared. “Where are you?”

The older man clattered into the room, smoothing his hair.

“You were sleeping? Who was watching Kathy?”

“She was,” Kathy jabbed her finger toward Winnie.

Derek's frown deepened, giving his face harsh angles and making his eyes dark and unfriendly. “Kathy, get your coat. We're going to town.” The look he favored
Winnie with left no doubt. They couldn't wait to get rid of her.

Winnie mentally shrugged as she donned her dusty coat and waited for the others. She was equally anxious to resume her journey. She would not acknowledge the hollowness just behind her breastbone that never quite went away. A longing for home and love—her gaze darted to Derek, who smiled at Kathy, a look on his face as full of affection as any she had imagined. A man who loved openly and freely. Her heart hovering over a deep chasm of emptiness, Winnie jerked away to stare at the door.

 

The woman—Winnie—was behind him. Uncle Mac shared the back bench. Derek had made sure Kathy sat beside him on the front seat where he could guard her. This little mite of a girl was all he had left of his family. He would never let anything harm her. At twenty-three, he was simultaneously orphaned and thrust into the role of both mother and father to his little sister. A role he did not object to except for the reason for it.

Getting Winnie back to town as soon as possible would ease his mind regarding Kathy's safety. What kind of woman wandered about the country alone and slept in barns? Certainly not the kind he wanted Kathy associating with. He grinned as he recalled Winnie crawling out of the feed, all dusty and dotted with flecks of hay. His heart had missed a beat at how easily he might have jabbed his fork into her. Even in her disarray
he was appealing—eyes like strong coffee and every bit as jolting, hair like mink fur.

He flattened his grin. He had no room in his heart or life for pretty gals, no matter how fiery her eyes, how spunky her attitude.

“Fortunate we don't have snow yet,” Uncle Mac mused. “Sometimes it's up to the horses' bellies this late in the year.”

Derek guessed he meant the latter for Winnie, because it was not news to Derek.

“The mountains are pretty with their snowcap,” Winnie said. “Like a glittering necklace.”

Kathy giggled. “For a giant.”

Derek shifted on the seat and kept silent. Maybe if he didn't add to the conversation, it would end and allow him to settle into businesslike thoughts.

For a few minutes, the soft plod of the horses' hooves on the packed trail was the only sound.

He relaxed and glanced about. The deciduous trees were bare-limbed. The pine and spruce were dark winter green. Yes, they often had snow by now. It was the end of November, after all.

Not a good time to be bringing in a new housekeeper, though he'd discovered there was no such thing as a good time. Why did Miss Agnew have to pick early winter to pack up and leave? Couldn't she put off her wedding until spring? Or at least until after Christmas? Her leaving would make the season even more difficult for Kathy. And she already had enough trouble with missing their mother and sister and brother. He clenched
his hand on the reins. His jaw tightened. He should have never let them travel alone. If he'd been with them, he might have prevented the accident, though a train wreck was beyond his control.

Not beyond God's, though, and yet He'd done nothing. Sure made it hard to trust God to take care of them.

Kathy's clear voice sang, “I sing the mighty power of God, that made the mountains rise.”

Lonesomeness as endless as train tracks gripped him. It had been their mother's favorite song. She sang it as she washed dishes, as she weeded the garden and as she mended. “Where did you hear that song?”

“Mama used to sing it all the time.”

His heart clenched like an angry fist. All Kathy had were memories of their mother. She deserved more. A mother to hug her and kiss her and tuck her into bed at night. He could never replace their mother, and the housekeepers he'd hired only looked on Kathy's care as a job, and moved on as soon as they found a man, which didn't take long out here, where men greatly outnumbered women. “I didn't think you'd remember.”

“Yup.”

Why was she singing it now? And without tears and sobbing.

Kathy paused. “I think Mama likes to hear me sing. She—” Kathy nodded toward Winnie “—said Mama would like to see me happy.”

Derek turned right around to stare at the woman behind him.

She smiled sweetly, her eyes sparking with what he
took to be a combination of amusement and challenge. “I'm sure you agree.”

His thoughts were a hopeless tangle of memories of his ma. Surprise, pleasure and sadness at hearing Kathy sing their mother's favorite song.

And something nameless, inviting and challenging in Winnie's gaze. He snapped a lid closed on mental wanderings and jerked back to look at Kathy, who regarded him with wide-eyed innocence. “I think Mama would like it very much.”

Kathy faced forward and continued to sing.

“I don't know what you said,” Uncle Mac murmured, his voice sliding below the sound of Kathy's cheery voice. “But it certainly made a good impression on our Kathy. Thank you.”

“I like the song she's singing. Doesn't it give you hope?”

Seemingly unaware of the conversation, Kathy continued. “I sing the goodness of the Lord.”

Derek wondered how to rejoice in the goodness of the Lord when it seemed life was so often out of control. But he said nothing. They topped the hill and looked down at Long Valley.

The town had been named for obvious reasons. It lay in a fertile valley between high hills, with the Rockies rising to the west. The Deer River flowed at the feet of the town. It was now iced over though he knew better than to think the ice was solid enough to hold a horse. The weather had been too uncertain.

They rattled down the hill on the road that became
the main street. Wood-framed buildings housed businesses of every sort. “Where shall I let you off?” He directed his question to Winnie.

“Wherever you're stopping is fine for me.”

He turned toward the rail station.

Kathy fell silent and sat up straight. Her face lost the gentleness and joy she'd revealed while singing, replaced with tightness about her eyes. White circled her lips signaling her tension.

“It's okay, Kit Kat.” He squeezed her hands. “I'm getting a married couple. The man is going to work for us, too, so they won't be leaving any time soon.”

Young Eric, who helped his father run the station, trotted from the building. “Hey, good to see you, Derek. Saves me a trip to your place with this here telegram.” He waved the sheet of yellow paper.

Uncle Mac, who'd been about to jump down and assist their guest to the ground, stopped and waited.

Kathy whimpered.

“No need to get upset,” he murmured, but of course she knew a telegram always brought bad news.

No one moved as Eric jogged over to hand Derek the slip of paper. Even Winnie seemed to have forgotten she meant to get off here. Was she aware of the tension in the others? Did it make her limbs as weak as it did his? He dismissed the idea. Of course it didn't. She had no interest in what happened to this family.

He gave the boy a few coins and Eric trotted back to the station. Derek unfolded the page and silently read the words.

“W
ho is it from?” Uncle Mac demanded. “What does it say?”

“It's from the Faringtons.”

“Weren't they supposed to be here?”

He expected them to arrive to help with Kathy. “They aren't coming until after Christmas. Got a new grand-baby to visit.” He crumpled the page and stuffed it into his pocket. Now what was he supposed to do? He didn't like leaving Kathy alone while they worked outside.

“No one wants to take care of me.” Kathy's words caught on a sob.

“That's not true. I do.”

“You're too busy. 'Sides you're a man.” She sucked in a gulp of air and released it in a wail.

Being a man certainly inconvenienced him at times, but he couldn't change that. Kathy's crying intensified.

Eric reappeared in the baggage room doorway, his
eyes wide with curiosity. His father stuck his head out the wicket window to see what the racket was.

“Hush, Kathy.” Derek tried to pull her to his lap.

She shoved him away.

Uncle Mac tried. She pushed him away, too.

“Winnie, what are your plans?” Uncle Mac asked. “You and Kathy got along real well. Perhaps you could stay until these other people arrive.”

Derek's nerves jerked. No way would they ask her to stay. Something about her made thinking clearly difficult. He shot Uncle Mac a hard look, but before he could protest, Winnie spoke.

“I'm on my way to Banff.”

“What's in Banff?” Uncle Mac seemed set on seeing Winnie as a suitable stand-in for the Faringtons.

“Uncle Mac—”

Again, Winnie spoke before Derek could voice his protests. “The Banff Sanitorium, where people go for the healing waters. Friends of my former employer said it was a lovely place. They are always in need of quality staff.”

And she considered herself such? Flecks of hay spattered her coat. Her hair needed a good brushing. And yet, his kitchen had shone after her short visit, and for a few minutes, Kathy had been happier than he'd seen her since the accident. And that was a year and a half ago.

“Can't the sanitorium wait?” Uncle Mac persisted. “We'd pay you as much as you'd make there.”

“She don't want to stay with me. No one does.”

Kathy's cries grew louder.

Winnie leaned forward and touched Kathy's shoulder. “I'd like to take care of you. In fact, I can't think of anything I'd rather do.”

Kathy choked off a sob and spun around. “Would you?”

Whoa.
All Derek knew about this young woman was she slept in barns at night. That didn't recommend her in his mind, even if she had reassuring way of calming Kathy. Her presence had the opposite effect on him, leaving him fighting confusion. “Kathy, I don't think—”

She folded into a sobbing heap.

“Derek, it seems you don't have a lot of options.”

He flung his uncle an angry look. “We know nothing about her.”

“So ask me. I'm right here.”

He and his uncle silently challenged each other.

Reluctantly, Derek gave in. He edged the wagon away from the station and far enough from the town so they could talk in semi-privacy and no one would stare at them, wondering why Kathy was acting up this time.

He shifted around to face Winnie. “Where is your family?”

She shrugged.

“They kick you out?” Had she done something so dreadful they'd disowned her. Though the idea of doing so scraped along his nerves.

“I've been working for some people, but they didn't need me any longer.”

“Why?”

“A cousin came west to join them. She took my place.”

“Who are these people?”

“I doubt you know them.”

At his demanding look, she continued. “The Krauses from Saskatoon. Reginald and Moira.”

“You're right. I never heard of them.” No way was he going to entrust his little sister to a stranger with no one to say whether or not she was suitable.

Uncle Mac leaned forward. “Seems it would be simple enough to wire these folks.”

“Of course.” He turned the wagon toward town.

Kathy's sobs subsided. “She's going to stay?”

“Don't get your hopes up. First thing I'm going to do is send off a telegram. Then we'll wait until we hear back.”

At the station, Winnie provided him with the address of the Krauses and he sent the message. “Now we wait for a reply. Kathy, maybe you should go to school.”

“No.” Her chin quivered. “Don't make me. I have to know if Winnie is staying.”

He didn't blame her for not wanting to sit at school worrying about things. “Just for today then.”

She twisted the edge of her coat so hard he knew it would end up torn, but he couldn't bring himself to tell her to stop. And the way she worried her lip on her
teeth warned him she would have a sore before the day was out.

If only he could provide her with the security she needed and deserved. The Faringtons were meant to help provide that. An older couple eager to stay in one place. At least they wouldn't be rushing off to marry, as all the others had done.

They went to the mercantile. “I'll buy you a penny candy,” he told Kathy, hoping to cheer her up.

“Come along.” Uncle Mac jumped down and held his hand out to help Winnie. “Buy whatever you need while you're here. No telling when we'll get to town again if winter sets in.”

“Thank you.” She wandered over to the ladies section.

Derek took Kathy to the counter and they spent fifteen minutes making a selection. She finally selected a red-and-white-striped candy stick. He bought himself a handful of lemon drops and stashed them in his pocket for a time when he craved their sweetness.

Uncle Mac reminded him of supplies they needed, and they waited for their order to be filled. Several times, he glanced at Winnie, but she continued to examine items without making a selection. After a bit, it dawned on him that she likely had no funds. That might provide one explanation as to why she was sleeping in his barn. Lost. No money. No family. Something inside him edged sideways at the thought. He knew the pain of losing family. At least he had Kathy and Uncle Mac. And he intended to do all in his power to protect them.

He wanted to go home, but not until he'd given Mr. Krause a chance to get the telegram and reply. If the man was in his office, a response would take only a few hours. No point in making Eric ride all the way out to the ranch. He turned to Kathy. “What do you say to going over to the hotel for tea?”

Kathy's eyes brightened. “Could we?”

The seldom-indulged-in treat would help pass the time. He signaled to Winnie. Uncle Mac stepped to her side to escort her. Derek clamped down on his teeth as he took Kathy's hand. Let Uncle Mac walk at Winnie's side. Derek didn't care.

Only he
did
. Admitting so scalded his innards.

 

They spent a tense hour at the hotel, trying to enjoy the tea and selection of baked goodies. Uncle Mac seemed the only one who succeeded. Derek wondered what he was doing, considering asking a young woman to stay, who in a matter of hours had proven such an upset to his thoughts.

Eric strode through the door. “Telegram, Derek.”

He read the few words. “Winnifred Lockwood excellent worker. Stop. Honest. Stop. Trustworthy. Stop. Cheerful. Stop. Wouldn't hesitate to recommend her to you. Stop. Reginald Krause.”

Derek wondered why they had let such a paragon of virtue leave.

 

Winnie wouldn't look at Derek, wouldn't try and guess what the telegram contained. She'd worked hard
at the Krauses, but her best efforts had failed to provide her with permanency. She shifted her mind back to the store where she'd admired some fine wool fabric. The burnt-red with tiny yellow flowers would make a lovely dress. Not that she'd ever have such. Her wardrobe consisted of the dress she wore plus one other, both given to her out of the charity of Mrs. Krause's sister. At the sanitorium they provided uniforms. She welcomed the idea. A uniform would give her a bit of anonymity—a young woman doing her job. No need to feel anything toward the patients and visitors except kindness. She would not allow herself to feel more. Doing so in the past caused her nothing but sadness and anger. She had to move on.

Yet she'd agreed to stay with Kathy for a month.

Only because the money would enable her to complete her journey and arrive in Banff looking like more than a vagabond.

“What does it say?” Kathy demanded.

Derek handed the note to Uncle Mac, then turned and pinned Winnie into immobility with his dark eyes. “Seems we would be fortunate to have you work for us.”

She swallowed hard, unable to think how she should respond.

“Bear in mind it will be temporary. Only until Christmas, when the Faringtons will arrive.

“I understand, and it suits me fine.” This time she would not let herself care about any of them. She'd treat them kindly, of course. She could do no less.

Derek signaled to the others. “She'll be coming home with us. Only until the Faringtons arrive,” he warned Kathy.

Disappointment filled Kathy's eyes.

Winnie wished she could assure the child otherwise, but she couldn't. She eyed Derek from under the cover of her eyelashes. Why didn't he marry and provide a permanent arrangement for them all?

She pulled her chin in and faced ahead. Perhaps he had a wife already picked out. After all, he was an attractive man with appealing qualities, such as devotion to his family, readiness to defend and…

She sat up straighter and forced her thoughts into submission. It mattered not one way or another to her. She'd only be here until Christmas.

She ignored the sorrow and anger flooding her soul.

There was only one thing she had control over, and that was her spirit; and she had vowed a long time ago that she would not allow a root of bitterness to spring up.

On the way back, Winnie's lungs felt stiff, as if they had forgotten their task was to take air in and out. What had she done? She'd promised herself not to get involved with another family, yet here she was, riding to the ranch with Uncle Mac at her side, Kathy and Derek in front of her. Kathy kept up a steady stream of chatter, but Uncle Mac was the only one who answered. For the life of her, Winnie couldn't manage a sensible thought. Over and over she mentally chanted,
it's only to help Kathy. Nothing more. There's nothing for me here. Nothing at all
.
She almost succeeded in not allowing herself to study Derek's back. Ramrod straight. A rock to his family.

Back at the house, Derek let them off. “Show her the housekeeper's quarters. I'll put the horses away.”

Uncle Mac led the way to the room off the kitchen behind the stove, Kathy bouncing along at his side. “I hope you'll find it comfortable,” Uncle Mac said, as he put her bag on the bed.

Besides the bed that was big enough for a couple, the room held a dresser and a mirror. The window looked out toward the mountains. “I'm sure I shall.”

“We'll give you time to get settled. Come on, Kit Kat.”

Kathy paused at the doorway. “I'm glad you're going to stay.”

Winnie pushed aside her doubts and smiled at Kathy. “Thank you.”

A few minutes later she returned to the kitchen and took over her temporary duties.

 

Soup simmered on the stove as Derek stepped indoors. Their gazes locked across the room, hers wary, his more than a little annoyed, as if he resented that he had been forced to ask her to stay. She narrowed her eyes. She'd agreed only for Kathy's sake.

But a frisson of tension hovered about her as she served the meal and later cleaned the kitchen. She felt Derek's presence, his watchfulness, even when he wasn't watching her.

To escape the uneasiness she went to her room early.

Three days later she had settled into a routine after a serious talk with herself. This house had everything she wanted and nothing she could have. She had only to accept the fact. Life became easier once she did.

Kathy had returned to school. Derek spent much of his time outside, likely in the barn. Either because of work or to avoid Winnie. Uncle Mac had long naps, then joined Derek. Mornings and evenings were easiest with Kathy present.

Except for one thing. Kathy did not go to sleep easily.

 

Tonight she cried in Derek's arms as he rocked her, trying to soothe her.

She finally fell asleep, remnants of her sobs shuddering through her. Derek rocked her a few more minutes, then eased from the chair and tiptoed into her bedroom.

Winnie turned from the window where she'd tried to take her thoughts to the silvery moonlight in hopes of ignoring Kathy's distress. She plunked to a chair and let her head fall forward. Her intention had been so simple three days ago—a month of keeping house, seeing Kathy to school and making meals. Nothing more. No emotional connection.

But life never turned out exactly as she planned.

Bedtime was torture for Kathy. She couldn't bear to be alone in the dark. A lamp didn't help. After a few
minutes of listening to her sobs, Derek went to her and spent upwards of an hour rocking her, assuring her he was right there and would always be.

Trouble was, all of them knew he couldn't promise forever.

Life was too uncertain.

Winnie had learned that truth at a young age. So had Kathy.

Going to school was equally painful. “How do I know you won't all be gone when I get back?” Tears streamed down Kathy's face.

Winnie had stood aside and let Derek and Uncle Mac deal with Kathy. After all, they were family. They would be here long after Winnie left.

But neither of the men seemed to know how to calm her fears, and the strain on all of them was obvious.

When Kathy started crying tonight, Mac had mumbled something about seeing to the stock and then headed for the barn.