Christmas In Cripple Creek (Hope In Cripple Creek Book 2)

by Sara R. Turnquist

  His hand dropped. “I’ve upset you.”

  She thinned her lips as she met his gaze with heat in her own.

  “That was not my intention.” He shifted to his side again and pushed out a breath. “All right.”

  She relaxed, the tension in her shoulders releasing.

  He searched her features, then lifted a hand and ran fingers through her hair, still loose from her ordeal the night before. Was he stalling?

  “Your brother came by last night after…”

  She nodded. He need not speak of the incident.

  He let his hand fall to the mattress and he looked past her. Did he attempt to catch his memory? Or to measure his words?

  Wyatt sighed. “He wasn’t too pleased.”

  Katherine furrowed her brows. “Not pleased? With you? Why ever not?”

  Wyatt met Katherine’s eyes. “He thought we should turn to Dr. Brown to monitor your care.”

  That couldn’t be right. Why wouldn’t David trust Wyatt? “Surely you misunderstood.”

  The blue of Wyatt’s eyes became steely. “I am certain I did not.”

  Katherine hated this invisible barrier between them. But how could he be serious?

  Her brother? Not trust Wyatt? That didn’t make sense. She would either trust her husband and take him at his word or reject his account.

  Which would it be?

  With her free hand, she touched the side of Wyatt’s face. “Tell me what happened.”

  * * *

  “Wyatt!”

  Someone called to him, the voice cutting through the haze of his sleep. He opened his eyes. Time to get to work. If someone needed him, he had to wake up.

  “Wyatt!”

  It was Katie.

  The baby!

  He jerked upright, laying a hand to his wife. Only she was no longer beside him.

  Where could she be?

  Everything was dark. And hot. And smelled of smoke.

  “Katie!”

  “Wyatt,” she cried. “The house. It’s on fire.”

  He was on his feet in a moment. Tempted to reach for the crutch, he quickly dismissed the idea. That would only slow him. He could walk through the pain. “Get Susie. I’ll get Jack.”

  How bad was it? How much had it consumed? Had it spread to the barn? Or started there?

  As he moved around the bed, he saw her silhouette maneuver out the bedroom door.

  “Katie!” he called.

  She turned.

  “Cover your nose and mouth with a cloth and crouch as much as you can.”

  Her head bobbed and she tore at the sleeve of her nightgown.

  He turned his attention to his own hem. Ripping off a piece, he covered the lower portion of his face and moved toward Jack’s room.

  His steps were pained, but he pushed through and, seconds later, shoved the door open.

  Jack lay in bed, coughing.

  Wyatt rushed into the room, his teeth clenched against the stabbing sensation in his leg. If they didn’t get out, it didn’t matter what happened to his leg.

  Shaking his son, he ripped a piece of sheet from the bed linens.

  Jack woke, sputtering. How much smoke had he taken into his lungs?

  Wyatt pressed the cloth over Jack’s nose.

  The boy fought against him.

  “It’s all right, Jack. It’s me—Pa. There is danger. You need to breathe through this. And we have to get out of the house. Now.”

  The roof cracked above him. That couldn’t be good.

  Grabbing Jack’s shoulders, Wyatt urged the boy to his feet.

  Jack stumbled, but righted himself.

  “Go!” Wyatt yelled.

  The boy’s movements were slower than Wyatt liked, but Jack was going nonetheless.

  Unnerving sounds continued to fill Wyatt’s ears. The fire must have been raging for some time. Would any part of the house survive? Wyatt was doubtful.

  But none of that mattered if his family made it to safety.

  Stepping into the hall, another form moved their way. A shriek filled Wyatt with relief. Katie and Susie lived.

  Herding them to go before him, he pressed Katie and Jack to move.

  The sound of splitting wood became louder. He looked back. The place where the hall had been was gone. Flames licked at the remains.

  “Go!” he shouted.

  His leg had become useless, he now dragged it behind. But he became more certain they would make it out of the house. He prayed that there they would find safety.

  What of the horses?

  He had to worry about his family first.

  When the roof above him splintered, there was no possibility of moving out of the way.

  He looked after his wife and children, several paces ahead, nearly to the door.

  Thank You, Lord. Take care of them.

  * * *

  The ceiling collapsed behind Katherine. She pulled Jack farther away.

  “Wyatt!” Katherine turned and screamed.

  Her instincts told her to run to him, to help him…but the children.

  She handed a crying Susie to Jack. “Go! Out of the house. Now!”

  “But, Ma…” Jack choked out.

  “No. Get Susie and yourself to safety.” Tears streamed down her face. But she didn’t have time for them. Or for Jack’s sentiments. She had to do what she could, if she could do anything, to save Wyatt.

  Jack’s body shook as he gathered his sister to himself and ran for the front door.

  Once he was out of sight, Katherine turned back toward the heap that been the large space between the dining table and great room.

  Where was her beloved?

  “Wyatt!”

  The rubble moved.

  She rushed for that section of the smoking mess. Wyatt was there, pushing pieces of roofing off his body. But his legs remained buried.

  Kneeling, she jerked on this and that. She had to free him.

  A firm hand grabbed her arm.

  Her gaze lifted to Wyatt’s.

  His mouth opened. He yelled at her. “…too dangerous…must…go…”

  She shook her head. “I’m not leaving you.”

  He jerked both of her hands off the rubble. “Go!”

  Hot tears poured from her. How could she leave him to die? Still, she couldn’t fight that he was right. She had to protect their child, to be there tomorrow for them. What would happen to them if both she and Wyatt perished?

  She jerked her hands until she held his. Then, leaning forward, she pressed her lips on his. Would this be their last kiss?

  Hands pulled at her from behind. Had Jack returned? The pull was strong.

  Her body fell against the form. The figure was much taller than her son.

  “Go, Katie. I’ve got this.”

  David!

  How did he know?

  It mattered not. His chances of rescuing Wyatt were much greater. She twisted and met his gaze.

  “I promise.”

  Nodding, she pulled herself up and rushed for the door.

  Her little family stood several feet from the homestead. When she turned, a heaviness settled in the base of her stomach. She felt sick at the sight. The home was a loss. Flames engulfed most of the structure. But the barn seemed untouched. Would they be able to stop the fire before it spread?

  Time passed sluggishly as she waited to spy her brother and husband. She sent up a million prayers.

  Hoof beats upon the dirt road drew her attention. Several men came, her father at the lead. Salvation!

  Thank You, Lord!

  Another section of roof collapsed.

  No!

  She stepped toward the structure.

  Jack jerked at her shoulder. He was stronger than she’d thought.

  Her Pa didn’t bother tying off his horse. He dropped and ran for the house, pausing only briefly by Katherine. “Where are they?”

  “I-in the great room.” Her voice trembled.

  Pa stepped to the porch steps. Was there
any hope?

  Two figures emerged from the front door. One bearing the other over his shoulder as the second limped.

  She cried out. Could God be so good?

  Nothing. She would never ask for anything again.

  Her husband and brother were alive.

  * * *

  Wyatt stirred. He became aware that Katherine’s warm body lay beside him.

  The events of the previous evening swept over him as he neared full awareness. And with the memories, came a multitude of questions.

  How had the fire started? Had the barn been spared? The horses? What was the state of the property?

  The townsfolk had come to their aid and had secured him and his family to the clinic’s recovery rooms. Therein, lay the second place his thoughts turned—how thankful he was for God’s hand of provision and protection.

  As he looked at the sleeping form of his wife, emotion welled in his throat until it ached. They had almost lost each other. Forever.

  But for David’s intervention…

  How had he known about the fire? Such that he would arrive at just the right moment?

  Coincidence? Wyatt had pretty much dismissed all belief in coincidences long ago.

  A stiffness in his knee gave way to a desire to shift. However, the moment he did so, he regretted it. Fresh pain in his leg tore through him. How had he endured such injury and walked, or limped, out of the house on his own feet?

  Katie moved beside him.

  He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her closer. Would he ever let go? Pressing a kiss to the side of her face, he became aware that she rose to alertness.

  Turning her head, she met his gaze. “Wyatt?” Her voice was gruff, dry, and scratched from the smoke.

  “Yes, my love?” He stroked her hair, pulling strands back from her face.

  “The house…is it…?” Her eyes filled.

  She knew.

  He took her hand and lifted it to his chest. Would her touch give him the comfort he craved? “Yes, darling. It’s gone.”

  Tears slipped through her guard and down her face.

  His handiwork, hours put into building a home for him and this little family were gone. In a matter of hours. Still, there was more to be grateful for. “But we are all well enough. Jack and Susie are in recovery rooms. Sleeping. Safe.”

  She nodded, but that did nothing to stop her tears. There must be a lot of emotion stuffed between her slender shoulders.

  Even his broader ones did not seem capable of holding it.

  “What will we do?” Her voice shook.

  “We’ll stay here.” He met her gaze. “Until we find another home or I can rebuild.”

  “Rebuild?” Was that confusion or hopefulness in her voice? His own feelings clouded his ability to read hers.

  “If that’s what you’d like.”

  She turned away, facing the window. Even with the curtains drawn, it allowed bits of light in. After pulling in a deep breath, she let loose a long sigh. “But where will we have Christmas?”

  “Katie, you know Christmas is more than a tree or a place. We can celebrate Christ’s birth anywhere. Without all this to-do. All we need is each other.” He set a hand on her shoulder. “And thank God we have that.”

  But she remained silent. Had this fire damaged more than their house?

  Chapter 7

  We Need a Little Christmas

  Their blissful sleep couldn’t last forever. Katherine and her family had to pull themselves together and get out of bed to face the day. A day full of unknowns. Would they find the answers they sought?

  Jack and Susie played in the room next door. With what, Katherine wasn’t certain and she wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

  Katherine had been shooed out of the room she and Wyatt shared so Dr. Brown could look at the newly acquired injuries.

  She stepped into the only empty room—the one Susie used. Fresh water sat in a bucket by the vanity. Who had procured it for her? Pouring some into the basin there took more effort than she’d expected due to the size of the bucket. But as she splashed the cool liquid on her face and washed her hands, Katherine relished the feeling of being clean.

  Looking down, she realized that the blue gingham was the only dress she had now. It wasn’t even her favorite. For whatever reason, that seemed hard to swallow. How petty could she be? Her family survived the massive fire and here she was bemoaning the loss of her dresses.

  She focused back on the now dirty water. At least she had removed most of the dirt and soot from her exposed skin. Moving to the bed, she sat and pulled back her hair. A bun? Or a braid?

  Her arms ached as she held them over her shoulders. No, she hadn’t the patience for anything elaborate. A simple braid would have to do.

  How much longer would Dr. Brown be with Wyatt? Was the lengthy duration of the exam a good sign? Or something she should be concerned about? Why lie to herself with false hope? From her experience, the time dragging by didn’t bode well.

  She shook her head. It would be all right. Wyatt was alive and well. They could overcome whatever wounds he had incurred. And he would resume his recovery from the shotgun blast. They would do it together.

  Knock, knock, knock.

  Katherine’s heart leapt. Dr. Brown must be done with Wyatt. Could she see him now?

  She took in a lungful of air. Now they would tell her how Wyatt’s recovery would be.

  Was she ready?

  She had to be.

  When she opened the door, however, she was not facing the doctor from Victor, but her father.

  “Pa?” Had something gone terribly wrong? Did they send Pa in to tell her? “What’s happened to Wyatt?”

  His gaze held hers, and his brows gathered. “Wyatt?”

  Was he confused?

  “Dr. Brown…did he send you to tell me something?” Her heart raced. Could she endure much more?

  “No, Katie. I ain’t been to see Dr. Brown. I came looking for you.” He reached for her hand.

  Her breaths came in and out rapidly.

  “I think you best sit yourself down.”

  She narrowed her eyes. It seemed he did have unfortunate tidings. Nodding, she let her father lead her to the bed. After sitting, she watched as Pa moved a chair closer to her and sat.

  “W-why did you come, Pa?” She couldn’t keep the trembling from her words. But she faced him with boldness she couldn’t fathom she still had.

  “Can’t a man be concerned after his daughter? Want to make sure with his own eyes that she’s well?”

  “Of course.” Her lip twitched on one side. “But there’s more, isn’t there? I sense you are holding something back.”

  His eyes searched hers. “I never could hide anything from you.”

  She shook her head. “You’d best get it out. I can take it.” Clasping her hands on top of her knees, she braced herself.

  “You know that no matter what, we’re in this together, right? Family is everything.”

  What was he saying? She worked out his words, trying to unearth the hidden meaning in them. Something in the pit of her stomach cinched and a fearful trepidation filled the core of her being. Could she stop it from spreading?

  “Your brother, he—”

  “Just tell it.” She pressed her words out, perhaps harsher than she’d intended. “What’s David to do with all of this?”

  “He rang the alarm last night.” Pa’s voice quieted and stilled for a moment.

  So David rang the alarm. What was Pa not saying?

  “It was he that saved Wyatt. And kept the fire from spreading.”

  “That’s true,” she said, dragging out the word.

  Pa hung his head.

  “Pa…” Why was he so bothered? So David rang the alarm after…

  What? How could David have known? Unless…

  Her father did not look up. She became desperate for his eyes. How was she supposed to read him without them? The world began to spin. But she fought for clarity.

&nb
sp; “Pa, how did David know about the fire?” Heat flushed through her. But what form did it take? Rage? Shame? Both? What had David done?

  “He had a visitor.”

  What? The pieces were jumbled in her mind. Nothing made sense. “A visitor?”

  Pa nodded and licked his lips. “Jonas came to David’s home and told him about the fire.”

  “Jonas…?” The blood drained from Katherine’s face. She needn’t ask how Jonas knew. Pa’s insinuation was clear.

  Jonas had set fire to her house.

  But why? Had he not forgiven Wyatt for the death of his wife and child. Held a grudge? To this extent? Was Jonas, the gentle soft-spoken friend of her brother’s, capable of this? Of putting her family in danger?

  Her stomach twisted painfully. Their home. Their beautiful home…gone. Because of the bitter root in Jonas’s heart? The ache in her chest for her family’s loss clouded her mind.

  But one thing rose to the surface—if Jonas set the fire, why would he warn David? A guilty conscience?

  Had he decided that he didn’t, in fact, want to murder her and her children in their sleep?

  She laid her head in her hands. For some moments she let her thoughts chase each other and swirl in her mind.

  These pieces shouldn’t fit, but they did.

  “Where…” she gasped. “Where is Jonas now?”

  “In jail.” Pa frowned. Now the naked anger clouded over his features. He raged at the man, too. “The townsfolk tracked him down after the fire was put out.”

  Relief washed over her. Jonas wouldn’t be able to change his mind and attempt to bring about their demise. Or her husband’s. Was Jonas…? Could he have been the one who shot Wyatt?

  She lifted her head. “Pa, do you think—?”

  He put a hand to her shoulder. “Don’t dwell on it, Katie. There’s no sense in it.”

  “But what if—?” She needed to know. She had to know.

  “He’s in jail. Where he will remain until his trial.”

  It wasn’t right. Why should he get away with trying to kill her husband now twice? Would he only answer for the fire?

  “The man has lost his wife and his child. Now, he’s lost his freedom and possibly what life he had. He deserves our pity. Not our vengeance.”