Christmas Bells (Christmas Holiday Extravaganza)

by Jewell Tweedt

  “Then loan me a fresh horse. I’d see it returned. Surely you must have another.”

  The man stared at him and scratched his head. “Nope, just the two, and they’s work horses. Don’t have no fancy riding horses. No need for ’em out here. ”

  James sank into the nearest chair and rubbed his eyes. No way could he walk. He’d freeze to death. This was not at all the evening he’d planned.

  * * *

  Connie and Andy waited another hour for James before they gave up and ate their dinner. Andy barely touched his favorite meal of ham with mashed potatoes. Connie tried to encourage him, but he pushed the food around on his plate. Her heart ached for him. He’d had so much disappointment. James had begun to fill a void in his life. And hers.

  After a while, she excused him from the table and looked down at her own plate. She hadn’t eaten much more than a bite or two herself. Visions of James snuggled up with the DuBois woman kept surfacing. She cleared the table and washed the dishes, chipping one of her favorite bowls in her distraction. By then, the time for the evening services had arrived. Maybe she’d find him there. He could have been detained by a patient. Or by Christine DuBois. Is that woman serving him expensive wine right now?

  Why, she was jealous. Right there, with her hands immersed in dishwater, she bowed her head. Lord, forgive me for these envious thoughts. Your plan for Andy and me is perfect. James is a good man—kind and trustworthy. There had to be a good reason for his absence.

  She dried her hands, removed her apron, and bundled Andy into his boiled wool coat. She pulled on her heavy coat, and they trudged three blocks to church, holding hands. The snow had stopped falling, but at least three feet covered the ground. Only a few other brave souls had ventured out in the weather. Even the steeple bell remained silent. Passing through the vestibule and into the chapel, she searched for James. No sight of him. She spotted the sheriff and his family, and she and Andy slipped into the pew behind them. The service had yet to begin. She leaned forward and tapped Jason Reynolds on the shoulder. He turned and leaned back. “Evening, Connie, Andrew.”

  “Have you heard anything from James? He was to come for dinner tonight. I’m a little worried.” She pressed her hands to her lips.

  “I wouldn’t be. He probably lost track of time or had a house call.” Jason’s low voice failed to reassure her.

  “On Christmas Eve?”

  The church pianist began a hymn. Jason lowered his voice to a whisper. “People get sick every day, you know. Maybe he’s delivering a baby.” Jason looked over at his wife. “Any ladies near their time that you know of?”

  “No. The only ladies I know aren’t due until late spring. He has me keep track of that kind of information. I saw their charts yesterday. Maybe he left a note in the office. Usually, he puts it on my desk.” Arianna reached back and patted Connie’s shoulder. “I’m sure he’s fine.”

  “I’ll go check after church. If I have any news, I’ll stop by your place. Don’t worry. I’m sure he’ll be all right.” Jason turned back and grabbed a hymnal as the choir stood to sing.

  After the opening hymns, Connie sat back and tried to listen to the story of Christ’s birth, but she couldn’t concentrate. Miss DuBois was not in church either. Connie didn’t know if she should be mad or worried. She decided to pray instead.

  * * *

  James spent Christmas Eve on a lumpy cornhusk mattress on the floor of the Smith cabin after a meager meal of corn mush. He couldn’t refuse. Mr. Smith had insisted that no one left his home hungry. Flavored with honey and milk, the mush filled the empty space in his stomach. Still, it wasn’t the meal or the company he wanted. The thought of Connie and Andrew waiting for him made his throat clutch and his eyes smart.

  Chapter Sixteen

  James awoke to the shrieks and yells of six excited children on Christmas morning. Sometime during the night, stockings had been hung and filled. Now, those stockings were being pulled down and emptied by the large family.

  James took the cup of coffee offered and pictured Connie and Andy. They were his family. He’d been alone too long. He wanted a part of what this family had—love and each other. James sipped from his chipped mug at the big table. The children oohed and ahed over their treasures. The younger children received small hand-carved toys, the older received pocketknives or hair ribbons. Each child dug out an orange, a peppermint stick, a pair of mittens and finally, from the toe, a shiny silver dollar. When Mr. Smith looked over at him with raised brows, he merely shrugged. Thank you, Holy Spirit, for nudging me awake in the night. Thank you for providing six silver dollars in my coin purse. The delight on the faces touched him to his core.

  He smiled into his mug at their joy. His first impression of the Smith family had been wrong. The house was small and scarce of possessions, and there were a lot of children, but there was also a lot of love here. The kids had been worried about their mother. That explained why they were so quiet yesterday. They had seen her lose the last two babies. They probably thought this one would die—and maybe their mother too. But now their mother and the infant were fine, and it was the best day of the year. Christmas.

  Thank you, Lord, for helping me deliver the baby. I now know why I had to miss last night with Connie and Andy. The Smith family needed me more. Just like Mary and Joseph found help from an innkeeper, I came here to help bring little Abraham Lincoln into the fold. Thank you for that privilege.

  The bedroom door opened, and Mrs. Smith shuffled out, holding little Abe. “Doctor, my husband will go hitch up the team. Please take one more look at this boy before you go.”

  James examined the baby carefully and pronounced him perfect. When Mrs. Smith tried to pay, he refused. He’d already been given his gift—the ability to give and receive love again. If all went well, in a few hours, he’d have a family. He’d been without God and a family for too long. He hurried into his coat, grabbed his bag, and turned for one more look at this family. “Merry Christmas,” he called out as he hurried outside to find the team hitched to a sled, complete with bells. He was going home.

  * * *

  Diana stood in front of the small oval mirror in her room at Margaret’s home. As she brushed her long brown hair, it began to take on a golden glow. Her eyes sparkled, and the bells on her wrists jingled merrily as she tied the locks back with a red ribbon. It was Christmas Day, and a body had to look her best. She checked off the assignments she’d completed. One, help Margaret find the strength and courage to support her children and herself. Two, help Connie enjoy the blessings she’d been given —home, friends, and Andrew. Three, assist Mrs. Smith with the difficult birth of her son. Four, provide another doctor and convince James that God does not desire man to be alone.

  Only one thing left to finish, and that was in the works. Bring Connie and James together. As she left the room, she began to hum, “Angels from the realms of glory, wing your flight o’er all the earth.”

  * * *

  Moments before noon, Mr. Smith dropped James off in front of Rose’s Café. He turned to wave good-bye, and when he turned back, the door swung open. Connie stood there, eyes troubled and mouth trembling.

  “James! I thought I heard sleigh bells. Are you all right? Where have you been?”

  “Hush woman,” he said, pulling her into his arms. “I’ll answer your questions in a moment.” He looked into her soft brown eyes. Eyes he could drown in. “I thought I’d lost my chance at love. I thought God had forgotten me, that my role was only to heal people, when all along I needed His healing. Now I know you and Andrew are a part of that. I love you. Will you marry me?”

  Connie’s eyes grew wide, but her smile was wider. “I love you too. Yes, I will marry you.” And as they kissed, Christmas bells began to ring.

  Epilogue

  On a frosty morning in late December, Connie stood calmly before the full-length mirror in Claire’s bedroom, smoothing out her long skirt. She was wearing her favorite maroon gown, the same one James had admired last fall at
Claire’s birthday celebration. Claire hovered nearby, fussing with the ribbons of a dried flower bouquet. “I declare, Connie, I’m more nervous than you.” Claire stepped up to the bride and studied her. “You’re absolutely radiant.”

  “Thank you. I believe you are more nervous.” Connie patted her friend’s arm and took the flowers from her. “This is what God intends for Andrew and me, to become a family with James. I will always love Percy, but now I have the privilege of loving this special man. It’s so kind of you and Tom to act as our witnesses. Shall we go and have ourselves a wedding?”

  * * *

  James stood by the huge stone fireplace, awaiting his bride. Clad in a dark blue suit and crisp white shirt, he waited straight and proud. His best man, Andy, stood next to him, beaming. In his own pocket, he’d hidden cowbells. James reached into his jacket pocket and fingered the gold wedding band he’d ordered from Chicago. The wide band held a flawless, square-cut ruby. He’d found a ring as unique as the woman he was about to marry.

  * * *

  A small wedding party waited with him—Jason and Arianna Reynolds, Margaret Dawson, Doris from the café, and Tom Maxwell.

  The bedroom door opened, Connie stepped out, and Claire followed. James saw only his bride. She glided up to him. They turned and faced Pastor Stevens and their guests.

  “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here this day to unite James and Connie in holy matrimony….”

  James and his bride spoke their vows to love, cherish, and honor one another, and as they kissed, the best man let out a whoop and rang the bells.

  Please read on to learn more about the author, Jewell Tweedt, and to read a sample from another Prism Book Group title, A Lady for the Lawman.

  Please enjoy this sample from A Lady for the Lawman by Jewell Tweedt, available from Prism Book Group!

  Omaha, Nebraska

  August 1870

  Arianna Quincy hurried into the mercantile, a scribbled list clutched in her hand. She had two goals—purchase the needed items, and talk her way into a job and a new life. Taking a moment to gather her courage, she wandered over to the colorful bolts of cloth and picked up a pretty calico.

  “Awright everybody, just stay calm, and keep your hands up where I can see ’em. You, shopkeeper, open that till, and be quick about it!”

  She spotted a man brandishing a Colt, and her eyes riveted on his face. A filthy hat was pulled low on his head, and a bandana covered his mouth. She stepped back.

  “Lady,” he said. “I mean it. Hands up and don’t move.”

  She raised her trembling arms, still holding the cloth. Panic coursed through her veins, and a lump lodged in her throat. What in heaven’s name...?

  He swung his attention back to her cousin Billy behind the counter and motioned with his gun. “Hurry it up, I ain’t got all day. Just stuff the money in this here bag.”

  Billy’s mouth turned down but did as he was told. He placed the bills and coins in the canvas sack. “Uh, mister, you should know this store belongs to the former sheriff and his wife, and they aren’t gonna take kindly to this.”

  “Shut up, kid. Hand over some of that there coffee and tobacco.”

  At the soft step behind her, Arianna swung her gaze to the left. A tall stranger grasping a shovel glared at her. His eyes demanded she stay silent. He mouthed, “I’m the new deputy. Drop the bolt.” His finger went to his lips.

  Her face blazed. She was no fool. She wouldn’t cry out like a child.

  Again he mouthed, “Drop it. Now.”

  Her chin dipped a fraction as she let go of the bolt. It hit the floor with a thud. The crook turned and the stranger leaped forward and swung the shovel, catching the man across his ribs. His bones broke with a sickening crunch. Arianna shrank back at the horrid sound.

  The crook collapsed onto the floor. “My ribs. You busted my ribs. You idiot!”

  The stranger and Billy hoisted him up and tied him with a length of rope. Billy laid him down on a rough bench, stepped back, and glared at him.

  “I need a doctor. Get me a doctor,” the man moaned.

  Billy’s face darkened. “You’ll see the doctor, but first I’m going for the law. Mister, would you keep a watch on him while I run for the sheriff?”

  The stranger stuck out his hand. “No need. I’ll take him to jail. My name’s Jason Reynolds, and I’m the new deputy in town.”

  Billy pumped Jason’s hand. “Well, I’ll be. Pleasure to meet you, Deputy Reynolds. I’m Billy Prescott. Say, I sure do appreciate you lending a hand with that shovel. You’ve got a real mean swing there.” Turning to Arianna he said, “Cousin, did you hear? This is the new deputy.”

  “You can call me Jason.” The young deputy offered his hand to Arianna. “Hello.”

  She jerked back and swung around. How could he involve her in this escapade? Eyes blurring, she shook her head. “Don’t you dare, don’t you dare be all nice. We could have been killed. Why did you let it go so far?”

  “What is it? Are you all right?” Billy rushed over and grasped her by the elbow. “He just saved our lives. What’s gotten in to you?” He lowered her to a nearby chair and fanned her with his big hand.

  She whispered, “Billy, I think I’m going to be sick.” Her neck and face heated. A sweat broke out on her forehead and perspiration trickled down her underarms.

  The deputy strode over and gently pushed her head down. He rested his hand upon the nape of her neck. She flinched and pressed her knees together. Strangers did not put their hands on respectable women.

  He seemed not to notice her distress at his touch. “Breathe, lady. Take deep breaths, come on. Billy, get her some water and a handful of those saltines.” He took the tin cup of water and gently placed it to her lips. “Come on now, miss. Take a few sips.”

  Arianna did as she was told, and after several minutes the nausea receded. Billy was back at the counter, keeping a close eye on the bound intruder.

  The deputy continued to sit next to her, a crooked smile illuminating his face. “Now let’s try this again. I’m Jason, and you’re Arianna. Is that correct?”

  She flashed him a tentative smile. After all, he had shown kindness. Sitting up straight and proper, she placed her hand into his much larger one. “Yes, I’m Arianna Quincy, and I apologize for my behavior, but you really didn’t have any right to put me in the middle of this dreadful situation.”

  Reynolds’s brows crunched, and he yanked his hand away. “Look lady, I had no choice. I had to be sure you weren’t going to scream. Most gals would, and I couldn’t take the chance.”

  He stood abruptly, and Arianna craned her neck to look into his eyes. He was tall and broad-shouldered. She hadn’t noticed his height before. His gray eyes were fringed with black lashes. But it was his smile that made her mouth go dry and heart pound.

  Even white teeth flashed in a lean, tanned face. Tiny crinkles at the outer edges of those cool eyes softened them. Her heart beat erratically. Calm yourself, girl. It’s just the excitement of the robbery.

  He had just saved her life and Billy’s. What a morning this turned out to be. All she wanted was a job, a nice safe position in a family-owned business like Weikert-Secord Mercantile. Now a man lay injured and trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey and this...deputy looked down at her with a smirk on his handsome face.

  She struggled to stand, dismayed that her knees wobbled. “Deputy Reynolds, why is it that no one here knows who you are?”

  Billy strode over to the lawman. “You must be brand new in town. I didn’t know Sheriff Simonson was hiring a deputy. We sure could use one.” He gazed over at the crook, now unconscious. “Um, I guess that’s pretty obvious. This is a mighty rowdy town.”

  Arianna couldn’t help but stare as the deputy spoke. “Well now, folks, it so happens this is my first day in Omaha. I haven’t even checked in with the sheriff yet. I was to start tomorrow, but this fella changed my plans. I only came in here for a few supplies. I’ve rented a small house down the way.” A slo
w, easy grin spread across his face as he adjusted the brim of his cowboy hat. “Looks like an exciting place to be.”

  Reaching down, he hauled the man up and over one shoulder as if he weighed no more than a sack of potatoes. “Now, if you’ll direct me to the closest doctor, I’ll see about getting his ribs bandaged up. My foodstuffs will have to wait.”

  He turned and headed to the door. Pivoting on his boot heel he called to Arianna. “Come on, girl, are you gonna show me, or do I have to guess where the doc is?”

  Arianna sputtered then stomped her foot and narrowed her eyes, her gumption returning full strength. Oh, he was irritating, and no kind of a gentleman whatsoever.

  “First of all, it’s Miss Quincy to you, and I will direct you to Dr. Connor’s office. Second, I am not a girl. I am a woman and you’d best remember that. As a citizen of this community, and as someone who helps pay your salary, I think it prudent you act in a proper manner.”

  Straightening herself to her full five and a half feet, she swept past the deputy and out onto the dirt street.

  She looked back over her shoulder. “This way please.” After a few steps Arianna pointed to the doctor’s office with as much dignity as she could muster. I’ll show him how a lady behaves. He’s probably from some backwater place and doesn’t know how real ladies act. “Anything else you require?”

  “Thank you, Miss Quincy, I can take it from here.” Jason shot her a glance, and the corners of his mouth tilted up. You’ve been most accommodating.” He shifted the man’s weight and knocked on the doctor’s door.

  Arianna stomped back to the mercantile and crossed the threshold, clenching her fists at the deputy’s impudence.

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  About the Author

  Jewell Tweedt was born and raised in Omaha, Nebraska, the setting for the Nebraska Bride series. She lives in western Iowa and divides her time between teaching middle school students and writing. She loves chocolate, John Wayne westerns and anything Okoboji. In her spare time she reads, gardens and plots her next story. Readers can learn more about Jewell and her books at www.tweedtjewell.blogspot.com.