Christmas Under Western Skies (7 page)

Nathan thought the shiver indicated that she was cold, and snapped the reins. The team of horses picked their way slowly and carefully across the rutted fields.

“If things don't work out, Julianne,” Nathan said, not looking at her, “would you take the children and move back east?”

“To Virginia?”

“That's where your family is, right?”

“The children are my family now,” she said, and regretted the hard edge to her voice. “My family has made it clear that they believe I made a mistake in marrying Luke. They would take us in, but it would be with pity and self-righteousness. I will not subject my children to that.”

“But where would you go?”

Her laugh rang hollow on the cold air. “Believe me,
Nathan, that is something I think about all the time. As yet, I have no answer.”

“Have you prayed on it?”

She swallowed, suddenly aware that this wasn't just any man. This was a man of God. “No,” she admitted.

“Why not?”

She shrugged, and to her relief Nathan did not press the matter, but he also said nothing else until they reached her cabin.

“Come in for a moment and warm yourself,” she invited as he helped her down.

“No, thank you. I have some business to attend to in town. See if Glory is ready to go. If not, I can come back for her later.” He busied himself checking the harness.

“Thank you, Nathan,” she said, “for taking the time and for the idea of working with the Fosters and for…”

“My pleasure,” he mumbled. “I hope the children are feeling better. And you should get inside and out of that damp cloak before you come down with something yourself.”

She knew when she was being dismissed. She just couldn't understand why—and at her own front door.

I
n spite of the good times they had shared over the last several days, Nathan knew that he was being unfair—to himself and to Julianne and the twins. Every activity that brought them closer was only adding to the cost they would all pay when he left in spring. If only she would agree to come with him…

Still, he had promised her children a good old-fashioned Virginia Christmas, and that was exactly what he intended to deliver. After that he would talk to her, and together they would figure out the best way to distance themselves from one another over the winter until he left.

Once he reached town, he stopped first at the mercantile, where he bought the length of ribbon he'd promised Laura and a nickel's worth of candy for Luke. As Jacob Putnam's sister wrapped his purchases, he spotted a piece of soft wood molding behind the counter.

“How much for that piece of molding?” he asked.

Melanie picked up the wood. “It's left over from when
we repaired the counter here. It's just a leftover scrap.

Here, take it,” she said, and handed it to him. “Another repair at Julianne Cooper's place?”

“Christmas present,” he replied, taking his change and pocketing it as he headed for the door. “Mind if I check out back for more scraps of wood?”

“Suit yourself,” Melanie replied, then turned her attention to a woman eyeing bolts of fabric behind the counter.

Outside, Nathan found three more cast-off pieces of wood. “These will do nicely,” he murmured to himself. So that would take care of Luke. Now for Laura. He frowned. What supplies might a girl need for making a Christmas gift for her mother and brother?

He started past the shop window on his way down the street, and saw Melanie Putnam rolling out yards of fabric for the customer. “Of course, fabric,” he said to himself, and reluctantly retraced his steps, knowing that before he could buy the yardage and get back to the Fosters, word would be all over town that Nathan Cook had made some strange purchases that afternoon. But a promise was a promise, and he was not a man to go back on his.

 

The following afternoon, he arrived at Julianne's homestead about the time he knew that Luke and Laura should be getting home from school. He had tucked the scraps of wood and four assorted squares of fabric into his saddlebag. As he had expected, Luke came bar
reling out of the cabin the minute he heard Nathan's approach.

“Chore time,” he called out and grinned.

“That it is,” Nathan agreed, taking note that Julianne did not come to the door as she usually did. “There's some weather approaching,” he told the boy. “We'd best get the animals settled in the lean-to as soon as possible. Could be a blizzard, from the looks of that sky.”

Luke nodded and went to work. The boy reminded Nathan of his younger brother. Jake was a good ten years younger than Nathan, and before Nathan went off to war, Jake had shadowed his every move, his every action. There was some of that in Luke, Nathan realized as he watched the boy stable the animals.

“Brought you something,” Nathan said, and offered the boy the paper sack of candy.

“I thought you forgot,” Luke said, his eyes shining as he accepted the bag. “Did you get some ribbon for my sister?”

“I did. I'll make sure she gets it later.” Nathan pulled out his pocketknife while Luke returned to his chores. He started slowly whittling a piece of the soft wood.

“Whatcha making?” Luke asked.

“Just whittling,” Nathan replied, concentrating on his work. “You ever try it?”

“No, sir. My pa said he'd teach me one day, but…” He shrugged and returned to the task of pitching fresh hay. “I don't even have a knife.”

“I could loan you mine,” Nathan said. “If you're careful and all.”

Luke leaned on his pitchfork and watched Nathan for a long moment. “Would you teach me?”

“I was hoping you might show an interest,” Nathan said, handing the boy his knife and the wood he had started to carve into the shape of a spoon. “How about making a spoon for your mother for Christmas?”

“That would be swell,” Luke said, as he carved a large chunk of wood from the side of the piece.

“Easy, son,” Nathan said, and guided the boy's fingers to move more precisely. “I brought some extra wood along—and some fabric pieces I thought Laura might find a use for. Maybe make your mother a handkerchief.”

“We could work on them out here,” Luke said. “We could surprise her on Christmas morning.”

“I thought that might work. Why don't I go inside and send Laura out to give you a hand? You can let her in on the surprise.”

Nathan wanted some time alone with Julianne, and he was sure that the challenge of coming up with handmade gifts for her would keep the twins occupied. “You might want to think about whittling something for your sister, if you have the time.”

“And she could make something for me,” Luke said.

“Sounds like a good idea.”

“Captain?”

Nathan gave the boy his full attention. “Yes?”

“What if I try to whittle something for Ma and I mess it up.”

“You won't,” Nathan said, “and besides, she'll love it anyway, because you made it.”

The boy beamed. “I'm glad you're here,” he said, and started to whittle the wood.

“Me, too,” Nathan agreed. But as he passed the pile of branches they had collected to build a Christmas tree on Christmas Eve, he firmly reminded himself that he wouldn't always be here. The twins had lost one father, Was he going to rob them of a father figure as well?

 

Julianne waited until she heard Nathan stamping the snow from his boots before she went to the door. She avoided looking at him.

Nathan removed his hat and coat and hung them on the peg by the door. He smiled at Laura. “Laura, could you give your brother a hand with stabling the animals before the storm hits? I need to talk to your mother for a few minutes.”

Laura glanced at Julianne, then pulled on her coat, mittens and shawl and headed out.

“If there's a storm coming, then you shouldn't have ridden all the way out here,” she said, and then turned in surprise when instead of taking offense at her scolding, Nathan laughed.

“You're right. I don't exactly have the best sense of direction when it comes to finding my way through a blizzard, do I?”

Julianne could not help but smile. “You've probably learned the route by now,” she said.

Nathan sat across from her and cleared his throat.
“I came out today to bring the twins their prizes—the candy and ribbon I promised them.”

“You didn't have to do that.”

“I also came to see you. I always come to see you,” he admitted. “I miss you when I'm not here.”

“It's all right. I know you have more things to do than to coddle us—sermons to write and all. Just the other day, when you left you mentioned having to do something,” she reminded him.

“I needed to think—work some things out in my mind.”

Julianne felt her breath quicken. “And did you?” she asked, picking up her mending.

Nathan chuckled. “I thought I had, but then I was out there with Luke just now and something he said got me thinking another way.”

“What was it he said?”

“That he was glad I had come here.”

“We all are,” Julianne murmured, then looked up and smiled brightly. “I mean, the entire community has benefitted from your being here.”

“I'm not thinking about the whole community, Julianne.” He stood up and started pacing the small confines of the cabin. “I think you know I have feelings for you, and I think you have some feelings for me as well.”

“The children have—”

“I'm not speaking of the children, Julianne. I'm talking about us.” He ran his fingers through his thick hair and let out a huff of frustration. “I'm no good at this,” he moaned.

Julianne set her mending aside and went to him. She cupped his face in her hands, forcing him to look at her. “You are a good and decent man, Nathan. You have brought laughter back to this house and you have given the children gifts far beyond candy and ribbons. You have helped me find a way to keep this land—this home. I will never forget your kindness and support.”

Nathan frowned. “But?”

“But you started on a quest to find your brother. In your heart you made a promise just as I made a promise, to my husband as he lay dying. You set out to find him and reunite with him so that he knew not everyone in his family had abandoned him.”

“Come with me,” he said, wrapping his arms around her.

“You know that I can't do that. It wouldn't be fair to the children. This is the only home they've ever known. It's the place where their father is buried.” She ran her thumbs over his cheeks. “I can't go and you can't stay, so let's give ourselves this time that we have.”

She stood on tiptoe and kissed him.

He held her close and whispered. “We can always pray for a miracle,” he whispered. “After all, 'tis the season for miracles.”

They heard the children outside the front door, stamping their feet and whispering excitedly.

“'Tis also the season for secrets,” Nathan said as he loosened his embrace so she could step away before the children burst through the door.

“What have you two been up to?” Julianne asked.

“Chores,” Luke mumbled, but then he grinned at his sister and nudged her with his elbow. Laura giggled.

“I've never known chores to cause you two so much pleasure,” Julianne said, winking at Nathan.

“I've got a surprise for you,” Luke announced. “I can say my tables all the way to twelve times twelve, which is one hundred and forty-four.”

“It's about time,” Nathan said, ruffling the boy's hair. “Here it is, just days before Christmas, and Mrs. Foster is still waiting on that turkey.”

Julianne sat at the table and Laura and Nathan followed her lead. “Let's hear it,” she said.

Luke cleared his throat and began rattling off the numbers. He stumbled only once when he got to six times nine and said fifty-five. Julianne saw Laura signal him to lower the number and he corrected himself and continued. Then he looked at Julianne with a mixture of hope and defeat. “I missed one,” he admitted.

“Still, Glory needs that turkey,” Nathan reasoned. “Seems to me—”

“You may go,” Julianne told Luke, and the boy let out a triumphant shout. “You will mind Captain Cook and Mr. Foster.”

“Yes, ma'am,” Luke said.

“I wish I could go,” Laura said softly.

Julianne wrapped her arm around her daughter's shoulder. “I need you to help me bake a wishing cake,” she reminded her.

“What's a ‘wishing cake'?” Nathan asked.

Laura grinned. “It's just a cake. But inside we bake a special coin, and whoever gets the piece with coin gets to make a wish.”

“What would your wish be?” he asked Laura.

Without a trace of a smile, Laura murmured, “I'd wish that we could stay as happy as we've been today.”

“You shouldn't have told,” Luke rebuked her. “You're supposed to keep it to yourself.”

Laura turned to her mother, her face stricken with worry. “Mama, should I not have told?”

“There's no harm,” Julianne assured her. “A wish is the same—spoken aloud or not. It's what you hold in your heart that counts.”

“In that case,” Luke announced, “my heart just aches for my very own horse. What about you, Captain?”

“Well now, that's a tough one,” Nathan said, scratching his head as if deep in thought. “I'd like to find my brother.”

“And you will,” Julianne said, wondering at her disappointment that his wish had nothing to do with her—with them. And in that moment she realized what she would wish—for him to stay forever. But in spite of the season, Julianne knew from experience that miracles did not happen. Not for her.

T
wo days before Christmas, while the children were in school, Julianne hitched Dusty to the wagon and headed to town with a load of her freshly churned apple butter. She would trade the jars of apple butter to Jacob Putnam for small gifts for the twins. She felt a hint of excitement and realized that she was looking forward to Christmas in a way that she hadn't since she and Luke had left their families behind.

In the years since they'd settled in Homestead, they had had to let go of past holiday traditions and establish new ones. They had shared Christmas Eve with the Fosters, then gone home to trim their tree and lay out gifts for the children to discover on Christmas morning. On Christmas Day they had attended church services in the newly built school. When the circuit preacher could not be there, men from the congregation would read scripture passages and the women would lead everyone in carols. By the time they started for home it would be
dusk, but the twins would still be bursting with excitement, for they knew that after supper their father would cut the wishing cake. He would slice it and pass the slices around the table until a metallic clink told everyone that the coin had been found.

But not last year
, she thought, as Dusty ambled along. Last year her husband's grave was still fresh and the children were still trying to understand why God would leave them fatherless. Julianne had not had answers for them, and no one had felt much like celebrating.

“Not this year,” she vowed. In spite of her worries that the children were building a bond with Nathan that would devastate them when he left in spring, Julianne was determined to make up for the Christmas the twins had missed the year before. “Plenty of time to wean them from being so close to Nathan over the winter,” she assured Dusty as the ox made the final approach to Main Street. “Plenty of time,” she repeated, but this time she was thinking of
her
need to distance herself from Nathan over the coming months.

 

“Any mail?” Nathan asked, as he watched Jacob tally his order. He'd promised himself that he wouldn't ask. Jacob would tell him if something came. Everyone in Homestead knew he was hoping for news of his long-lost brother.

“Over there.” Jacob jerked his head toward a small stack of letters and packages strewn haphazardly over a desktop near the front door of the mercantile. On top of the desk was a hand-lettered sign that read: EMMA
PUTNAM, POSTMISTRESS. “We're always a little shorthanded when Emma is down with one of her headaches. Lucinda helps out after school, but some things just don't get done. Have a look.”

Nathan swallowed nervously. He'd been disappointed so many times before. The letters he'd sent and the ads he'd run in newspapers out west had produced nothing. And yet he still hoped.

He was vaguely aware that Jacob had continued to talk, but his focus was on the mail. Postponing what he assumed might be the inevitable, he started with the packages, but there were only three of them, and in no time at all he was down to the letters. He picked up the stack and sorted through them quickly.
Get it over with
, he thought, but still his heart hammered with hope.

A shadow passed the window and he glanced up in time to see Julianne walking across Main Street toward the store. He smiled. Whenever God closed one door, he always opened another, and seeing Julianne Cooper was certainly more than enough to compensate for the absence of a letter.

He heard the jangle of the bell over the shop door, and started to replace the stack of letters on the desk when he noticed the envelope on top.

It was addressed to him.

“Captain, are you all right?” Julianne was at his side, her lovely face turned up as she examined him closely. “Why, you've suddenly gone so pale,” she said. “Sit down.” She indicated the desk chair. “Are you feeling faint?”

He sat, and then grinned at her fanning the envelope between them. “Seems I've got some news,” he said softly, indicating, by a glance toward Jacob, who was cutting yardage for two customers, that he wasn't yet ready to have the entire town privy to that news.

Julianne moved so that she was blocking him from the view of the others. “Very well, Captain,” she said in a voice just slightly louder than normal conversation. “And the twins as well,” she added, pantomiming that he should open the letter while she covered for him. “Of course, they are beside themselves with excitement about Christmas.”

Nathan scanned the scrawled note on the single sheet of paper inside the envelope, then handed it to Julianne. He watched her lips move as she read the short note.

“You found him,” she said softly, as she carefully folded the paper and handed it to him. “I'm so happy for you both, Nathan. God has blessed you.”

It was true, and yet all Nathan felt was confusion. Wasn't this the news he'd hoped for? Been waiting for
all these months? Wasn't this the dream he and Jake had always shared—the dream of working together, building a future together? Weren't those the words he had written in his letters home during the war, never realizing that Jake was long gone and had never seen his letters?

“Nathan?”

He looked up at Julianne and felt his eyes well with tears. He had gotten his wish without the need of a slice of wishing cake, and yet all he could think as he looked up at her sweet face
was I don't want to leave her
.

“Anything?” Jacob called out as he rang up the last sale and glanced toward Nathan. “Ah, morning, Julianne. Did you bring those jars of apple butter?”

“I have them in the wagon,” Julianne replied. “I'll get them.”

“Let me,” Nathan said, pushing himself to his feet and folding the letter into the pocket of his vest.

“Any news?” Jacob asked again.

Nathan hesitated, then patted his pocket. “A letter,” he replied, not wanting to lie to the man who'd become his friend. “I'd like some time to study on it,” he added.

Jacob nodded. “Understood. And while you're at it—now that you've had news—maybe you'll do some studying on that offer we discussed?”

“I will.”

Julianne followed Nathan from the store. “What offer?”

“Jacob and the others are asking me to stay on as
pastor. They're planning to build a proper church, and they want a regular minister.”

“Are you considering it?”

Was that hope he saw in her eyes, or was it just more of his wishful thinking?
“I was,” he admitted, and fingered the edge of the envelope “when there was no word….”

“But now of course, this changes everything,” Julianne said as she busied herself uncovering the jars of apple butter she'd packed into wooden crates in the back of the wagon. “It's not really so bad,” she reasoned, not looking at him. “I mean, you can't head west until the weather breaks, and in the meantime the church elders can seek a regular minister—run ads, as you did. Someone will come. It's a good opportunity, as is the opportunity your brother has proposed. Work on the railroad must pay well, and think of the farm the two of you could buy together and—”

Nathan stared at her. Who was this woman, babbling like a creek running free after a thaw? “Come with me,” he blurted the thought that had been uppermost in his mind ever since reading Jake's letter.

She turned and smiled at him. “Of course I'm coming. I'm bartering with Jacob—the apple butter in exchange for some Christmas presents for the twins and Glory and Sam.”

Nathan set down the crate he'd picked up and touched her shoulder. “Not to the store, Julianne. Come with me to California.”

“How can I?” she whispered hoarsely, and he realized
that she was every bit as perplexed by the choice as he was. “I also made a promise, Nathan.”

“To Luke.”

“To my husband and our children,” she corrected. “This is our home, Nathan—the only home the twins have really known. After everything they've had to endure this last year, I couldn't…”

He wanted to take her in his arms and assure her that he understood, that he would never ask her to betray a deathbed promise. But they were standing on Main Street, and in spite of the cold weather, people were out—and watching them with curious glances. So he hefted the crate of apple butter to one shoulder and took hold of her elbow with his free hand. “It's Christmas, Julianne. The season of miracles. How about helping me pick out a gift for the Fosters?”

 

Back inside the store, Nathan set the crate of apple butter on the counter. “There's one more crate,” he told Jacob, and headed back outside.

Julianne watched him go, wondering as always at his certainty that things could possibly work out for them. Well, she had been the cause of Luke's break with his family, and she would not come between Nathan and his brother. Jake had been abandoned by his family once, and his letter—however concise the words—had been filled with his delight at having a connection to family once again.

“How can I be of help, Mrs. Cooper?”

Julianne turned to face Jacob. The older man was
always more formal when cast in the role of shopkeeper serving a customer. She pulled a list from her pocket and handed it to him.

“Ah, the ingredients for your wishing cake?”

Julianne nodded. “And I'll need two of those peppermint sticks for the twins,” she said, as she focused her attention on the jars of candy that lined the shelf behind the counter. She selected some tobacco for Sam's pipe and a china teapot for Glory, all before Nathan returned with the second crate of apple butter. “Will there be enough to cover all this?” she asked, suddenly aware that she had yet to select an actual gift for the twins—or for Nathan.

“And then some,” Jacob assured her as he inventoried the jars and began setting them on a shelf.

Nathan fingered the floral-patterned teapot. “For Glory?”

“Yes. Her favorite teapot was broken when one of the axles on their wagon split on the trip out here. She's never said a word, but every time we come to the store I notice she looks to see if this one is still here.”

“What if I gave her the cups and saucers to match?” Nathan asked. “Or maybe not. Maybe that's too—”

“I think she would like that very much.”

“I'll need something for Sam.”

“He broke the tip on his pocketknife a while back,” Jacob said, as he indicated a tray of pocketknives below the glass cover of the counter. “Now, what about those children, Mrs. Cooper? Surely you'll need something beyond the peppermint sticks.”

“I was thinking perhaps some paints and brushes for Laura.”

Jacob retrieved the items from a shelf near the back of the store. “And young Master Luke?”

Julianne was at a loss. Her son was growing up so fast—both of the children were. She spotted a wooden rocking horse, but Luke was already too big for such a toy, even though his wish had been for a horse of his own.

“How about a hat?” Nathan said, as if reading her mind. “It's not a horse, but it's a start.”

“I have just the thing,” Jacob said, reaching onto a high shelf for a hatbox printed with a single word: “Stetson”. “Young fella by the name of Stetson, from Philadelphia, lived out west of here and came up with an idea for a hat. He went back east and started his own business, but the dandies back there aren't too keen on his design. I picked up half a dozen for next to nothing when Mrs. Putnam and I traveled back east to see family last summer.”

He blew the dust off the box cover and pulled it open. “I think this might just be small enough for Luke.” He held up a tan felt hat with a high crown and a wide brim. “Waterproof inside and out,” he said, “in case Luke finds himself in need of water, with no bucket handy.” He made the motion of dipping water from a stream.

“It's dandy,” Nathan said, taking the hat from Jacob and perching it on his head.

He looked so ridiculous that Julianne laughed.

“I'm pretty sure I have one in your size as well.” Jacob scanned the row of hat boxes.

“Nope. My old one will do me fine,” Nathan told him.

“Try it on,” Julianne urged. “It will help me imagine what Luke might look like.”

Nathan shrugged and accepted the hatbox from Jacob.

He pulled out a black version of the wide-brimmed hat and put it on. “I like it,” he admitted, adjusting the brim so that the hat fit snugly over his forehead. “Maybe when spring comes.” He reluctantly removed the hat and returned it to the box. He turned back to the teacups. “Could you add a couple of those to my tally?”

While Jacob added up the bill, Julianne tried to think of some gift she might choose for Nathan. She looked over the merchant's wares, commenting on this and that and getting absolutely no reaction from the man. She wanted so much to give him something, but she knew that the price of a hat for him, as well as Luke, would be too dear.

“Thanks, Jacob,” Nathan said, as he collected his packages, the contents of which were disguised by brown wrapping paper. “Merry Christmas to you and your family.”

“And to you,” Jacob replied absently, as he gave his attention to wrapping Julianne's purchases.

“Has the captain ever admired anything in particular?” she asked.

Jacob paused in his wrapping and ran one hand over his whiskers. “Not that I can recall. Any time he comes in, it's been to check if there's mail or to get something for the Foster place—or yours. He did seem to like that hat.”

“I can't afford two hats, Mr. Putnam.”