Forever Christmas

by Cat Cahill

  FOREVER CHRISTMAS

  The Gilbert Girls, Book Five

  by Cat Cahill

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the author at:

  http://www.catcahill.com

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2019 Cat Cahill

  Cover design by EDH Professionals

  All rights reserved.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Epilogue

  Books in The Gilbert Girls series

  About the Author, Cat Cahill

  Chapter One

  Crest Stone, Colorado Territory, 1875

  If she remained perfectly still and quiet, perhaps the conductor would look past her. She could stay on this train forever and ever, traveling for eternity from Denver to Santa Fe and back again, just as much a fixture in this car as the seats or the doors.

  “Miss? Miss, are you all right? Isn’t this your stop?” The conductor stared down at her, concern drawing his features into lines.

  “I—I’m fine.” Elizabeth Campbell forced her legs to stand.

  The conductor took a step back, but still didn’t look convinced that Elizabeth could make it from the seat to the door without swooning or some such nonsense. “Do you need assistance?”

  “No, I don’t. I was merely asleep.” She brushed past him, speaking more harshly than she’d intended, but her nerves were making her feel as if everything was rushed. Her heart beat in triple time, her stomach ached, and if her hands weren’t clenched around the handles of a carpetbag, she knew her fingers would be trembling.

  Elizabeth took the hand of another conductor and stepped down onto the small platform. She was in no hurry, despite what her heart might think. She wouldn’t be reboarding the train—at least not today.

  She blinked into the bright noon sun that glittered off the snow but did nothing to warm the air. It would be so easy to turn around, go right back up those steps, and become part of the seat again. No one expected her. No one knew where she was.

  And no one particularly cared.

  Pinching her lower lip between her teeth, Elizabeth forced away thoughts of the life she’d left behind in California. The past was the past. She was free now, and that’s what she needed to keep in mind. All she needed to do was enter that hotel, inquire after her brother, and hope he was happy to see her.

  “Carriage, miss?” A driver, dressed in a neat black coat, smiled and held out a hand to take her bag.

  Elizabeth glanced between him and the hotel. It would be a frosty walk up the snow-covered hill to reach her destination. But as much as she relished the idea of a ride, she didn’t have so much as a penny left to give the man for a tip. “No, but thank you. I’m looking forward to the exercise.”

  The man touched his hat as Elizabeth smiled at him. She stepped off the wooden planks outside the depot and into the snow that had been pressed down from the carriage wheels. It was best to get it over with. That seemed like the sort of advice her mother might’ve given her, if she’d lived long enough.

  By the time she reached the grand hotel doors, Elizabeth was thankful for her coat and boots, as threadbare as they were. A bellhop opened the door and attempted to reach for her bag. Elizabeth pulled it to her with a smile as she stepped inside. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust, but when they did, she nearly gasped.

  The wooden desk and floors gleamed, beams stretched across the tall ceiling, flames roared in the giant stone fireplaces on either end of the enormous lobby, stairs gracefully led the way to the upper floor, and finely clothed men and women bustled about. The only things missing were Yuletide decorations. Crest Stone might not have been much of a town at all, but this hotel was as fine as any establishment she would’ve been too afraid to step into in Denver. She didn’t dare remove her coat, or else everyone would be able to tell she didn’t belong in such a place.

  A friendly-looking girl with shining blonde hair, a perfectly starched gray dress, and an apron that would have been white if it wasn’t for an unsightly coffee stain, stopped in front of her. “Good afternoon, miss. Are you in search of the dining room? Or perhaps the lunch counter? It isn’t as nice, but the soup is hot and filling.”

  Elizabeth forced herself to smile through the wave of fear that rolled through her yet again. “I’m . . . I’m to meet someone. My brother.” It was only the tiniest of lies, considering he had no idea she was here.

  “Oh? What is his name? I might be able to point you in his direction if he’s staying here.”

  “Monroe Hartley. I’ve been told he built this hotel.”

  The girl tilted her head, clearly confused. “I don’t believe he’s still in residence here.”

  Elizabeth nearly dropped her carpetbag. “What do you mean?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper. Of all the outcomes she’d contemplated, this wasn’t one of them.

  “Maybe he’s planning to return and hasn’t arrived yet?” the girl said.

  “No,” Elizabeth said, her fingers gripping the handle of her bag. “I . . . I must be mistaken. I’m sorry to have troubled you. I’ll . . .” She glanced about the room. Where would she go? Even if Monroe turned her away, she’d assumed he would’ve given her the fare to at least return to Denver.

  “I’m so sorry to have disappointed you. Do you need a room for the night? I can take you to the front desk.”

  “No, I can’t—” Elizabeth’s voice rose and cracked on the last word. She wouldn’t cry. She hadn’t cried in years, and she didn’t intend to start now. “It’s only . . . I don’t know . . .”

  “You must sit.” The girl took her hand and led her to a large wing chair that flanked the nearby fireplace. “I’m Adelaide. I work here, as a waitress. Do you need something to drink? Would that help?”

  Elizabeth shook her head as she set her bag down. Nothing would help. Not now. Why had she been so foolish when she was younger? Everything could have turned out so much better for her if she’d just listened to her brother and to Colette. But she hadn’t, and now here she was—widowed, penniless, and entirely alone. “I have nowhere to go,” she finally said, her words strangled.

  Adelaide knelt beside her and patted her hand. “I know just the thing. Stay right here.” And with that, she was up
and weaving through the chairs and people toward the hallway beyond the stairs.

  Elizabeth barely had time to contemplate what Adelaide was doing when the girl returned, a kindly-looking woman trailing behind her.

  “This is Mrs. McFarland,” Adelaide said to Elizabeth. “She helps run the hotel. Mrs. McFarland, this is—oh, goodness. I didn’t ask your name. My mother would positively die. Please forgive me.”

  Elizabeth almost laughed despite her predicament. She stood and forced her voice to remain steady. “Mrs. Campbell. Elizabeth.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, dear.” Mrs. McFarland clasped Elizabeth’s hand between her own, and her smile warmed Elizabeth to her bones. She had the strangest feeling this woman wouldn’t care about any of the mistakes Elizabeth had made in the past. “Now, Adelaide here tells me you’re in some distress?”

  Elizabeth chewed on her lip for a moment while she thought about what to say. Adelaide spoke first. “She came to meet her brother, Mr.—”

  “It’s quite all right,” Elizabeth said quickly, cutting off her maiden name from Adelaide’s tongue. There was no need to embarrass herself—or her brother—any further. He wasn’t here, and Elizabeth preferred to keep his potential disappointment in her to herself. She gathered herself, standing a little taller and placing her hands against her stomach for strength. There was nothing to be ashamed of in what had happened to her recently, after all. “I’ve found myself stranded. My husband died suddenly at a mining camp in California. I came here to meet family, but it appears they’ve moved on. I’m without means to search for them any further, or to return . . . anywhere.” She glanced at Adelaide. The girl gave her an encouraging smile, and an idea struck Elizabeth.

  “Perhaps I could work here? Only for a while, until I’ve saved enough for train fare and until I’ve located my family. If you’re in need, that is.”

  Mrs. McFarland opened her mouth to speak, but Elizabeth pressed on. “I’m quite capable. I can sweep, cook, do laundry. Anything you might need.” She didn’t add that she’d never worked for pay. Colin had forbidden it, even when they’d not had a cent to buy a tin of beans.

  “Mrs. Campbell, you seem well-spoken and mannered. May I ask your background?” Mrs. McFarland said.

  Elizabeth wanted to sink into the chair in relief. Mrs. McFarland must be considering her request, or else she wouldn’t ask such a thing. “My family came from Kansas City originally, but I grew up in Denver. My mother died when I was young, and my father when I was fifteen. We didn’t have much, but I never wanted for anything. And my brother always looked out for me. I married young and went to California with my husband. He was a ranch hand who then became a miner. It was hard. He was . . .” She pushed past those memories. “I did my best to stay away from the more unsavory aspects of the camp. I kept house and went to services as often as I could.”

  Mrs. McFarland clasped her hands together, her eyes still on Elizabeth. She radiated nothing but kindness, but Elizabeth wanted to squirm. She’d told the truth, even if she had glossed over many of the more unpleasant aspects of her life—including what she’d done to her brother.

  “Would you be interested in a position as one of our Gilbert Girls?” Mrs. McFarland finally asked.

  Adelaide must have noticed Elizabeth’s confusion, because she added, “A waitress.”

  “Yes,” Elizabeth said. “Yes, of course. Are you certain?”

  “We’ll give it a try,” the woman replied. “We’ll see how you do for a few weeks. If at that point, you’d like to collect your wages and leave, you may. Or if it goes well and you’d like to stay, you’d be able to sign a contract for a year.”

  It was more than Elizabeth could have hoped for. A waitress was a far more respectable position than a maid. And it likely paid more too. “That sounds wonderful. Thank you very much.”

  “You’re welcome, my dear. We needed to replace a girl who is getting married. You arrived at just the right time. I must tell you, though, you’re the first girl we’ve hired on the premises. Most of the others go through rigorous interviews back East before traveling out here, but I have a good feeling about you.” She smiled at Elizabeth before turning to the younger girl. “Adelaide, will you take Mrs. Campbell upstairs? She can stay with Sarah. I’ll send one of the maids up with some dresses and linens.”

  Adelaide nodded, and before Elizabeth could truly fathom what had just happened, she was whisked up the polished wood stairs to the second floor to begin a new life.

  Chapter Two

  Landon Cooper didn’t need a hotel. He didn’t need a meal. And he certainly didn’t need to stop riding. Yet somehow, he found himself leading his horse to the stables at the Crest Stone Hotel and Restaurant and nearly salivating at the thought of hot food that didn’t taste like salt pork or stale bread.

  A night here wouldn’t hurt anything, after all. He wasn’t due in Cañon City for several days. A real bed and a fire to warm his hands might even remind him he was making the right decision. He could barely think straight on horseback in this weather, and it led to all kinds of doubts he had no business entertaining.

  Inside, he found the fire he’d been craving. The massive fireplace thawed his frozen hands almost instantly, and his fingers tingled as the blood began pumping through them again. Landon would’ve been perfectly happy to slump into one of the fireplace chairs for the night, but his stomach wouldn’t quit reminding him that he needed food.

  Merry laughter and the sound of forks tinkling against china plates came from a large dining room nearby. Landon took a couple of steps in that direction, his mouth almost watering at the scent of what had to be beef stew.

  “Sir?” An uppity male voice made him halt.

  Landon turned to find a man leaning over the front desk. “Yes?”

  “Sir,” the man said again, his eyes taking in Landon’s worn and dirty coat, boots wet from the snow, and trousers that had run into one too many filthy cattle. “Might I suggest you’d be more comfortable at our lunch counter?”

  “Might I suggest you keep your suggestions to yourself?”

  The man’s pinched face drooped, and he looked down, busying himself with some papers lying on the desk.

  Landon was almost disappointed. But what did he expect—for this pasty fellow from somewhere back East to leap over the desk and fight him? He was restless, and that made him easily agitated, and that made it far too easy for him to begin looking for trouble. He shook his head to clear it. Maybe he really did need a few days to think through all of this. If he could feel completely certain of his decision, that restless feeling might go away.

  He headed toward the door with the sign that indicated it housed the lunch counter—but only because he wanted to, not because anyone said he should.

  A long, oval-shaped counter took up most of the small room. In the middle, two pretty girls in gray and white chatted with customers and refilled mugs of steaming coffee. Landon could almost taste the coffee just from the scent of it. The customers looked rough—all men and most of them appearing as if they hadn’t had a bath or changed clothes in months. Landon glanced down at his own clothing and winced. He certainly fit in here.

  He took a free seat far away from the others. If he sat too close to anyone, they’d want to engage in conversation. And conversation was the last thing Landon needed at the moment. One of the waitresses brought him a cup of coffee, and he cradled it between his hands like a newborn calf. The heat seemed to melt into his bones, and—for a moment—his irritation with everything settled into a corner of his mind.

  If only he could sit here with a hot cup of coffee for the rest of the winter. Come spring, he could get hired on again at one of the nearby ranches, as he’d done since he was sixteen.

  Landon frowned into his mug. It would be the same thing, every year, until he’d finally saved up enough money to start his own place. He could get a piece of land for cheap if he agreed to homestead it for five years, but a piece of land with no house or cattle o
r men to work it wouldn’t be much of a ranch. And he’d be an old man before he could afford that, too old to really enjoy it, and too old to work alongside men he would hire. No, something had to change. He only wished he had an option other than the one waiting for him in Cañon City.

  He tapped a boot against the foot rail and searched the counter for one of the waitresses. Real food would help him think straight, help him fully commit to what he needed to do.

  A third waitress appeared behind the counter from the little door on the opposite side. This one seemed distracted. She fumbled with the strings of her apron and then tripped over something Landon couldn’t see on the floor.

  “Miss?” he finally called, seeing as she was the one nearest him.

  She twisted to see behind her as she messed with those apron strings again.

  “Miss?” Landon said, a little louder this time. “Could I get something to eat?”

  She finally lifted her head, a pair of dark eyes surrounded by an angelic face and light brown hair swept up behind her waitress’s hat. She said something, but he didn’t hear.

  He couldn’t do anything but stare.

  Chapter Three

  Elizabeth had met Mrs. Ruby, the dining-room manager, who insisted she be properly trained before being allowed to serve guests in the dining room. And so Elizabeth found herself at the lunch counter. She was supposed to emulate the other two girls. Mrs. Ruby had made it sound simple, and yet Elizabeth already felt as if she were intended to do anything but this.

  Now this man was staring as if something were wrong with her. Elizabeth glanced down at her clothing, but all seemed to be in place—even those pesky apron strings were finally tied. She casually ran a hand across her face and then smiled at the man, hoping he’d finally speak. He certainly was handsome enough, with striking eyes and a strong jaw, even if it did look as though he’d slept in those clothes.

  “Sir?” she said again, twisting her hands together. She was growing warm under the gaze of those blue eyes. They weren’t an average sort of blue either; they were darker, like the deepest part of a mountain lake. “What is it you’d like to eat?”