Christmas at Stoney Creek

by Martha Rogers

  Martha Rogers has written a charming tale of friendship, generosity, and young love. From the people of a small Texas town we receive a beautiful reminder that we’re to love others as we love ourselves. What an uplifting story for the Christmas holidays or any day!

  —SANDRA ARDOIN

  AUTHOR OF THE YULETIDE ANGEL AND A RELUCTANT MELODY

  Martha Rogers is an extraordinary writer and storyteller. She brings characters to life and draws readers into the story with an invitation to make themselves at home. In this charming story Joe Fitzgerald first appears as a bedraggled old man on a train. Tom Whiteman, however, suspects much more behind that rough hobo exterior. As Tom and his close friend, Faith Delmont, begin to explore the man’s deeper side, they are drawn to one another in a way they hadn’t expected. This many-faceted story finds its fruition at Christmas, as secrets are revealed in the joyous Light of Truth.

  —KATHI MACIAS

  WWW.KATHIMACIAS.COM

  AUTHOR OF MORE THAN FIFTY BOOKS, INCLUDING THE 2011 GOLDEN SCROLLS NOVEL OF THE YEAR, RED INK

  Martha Rogers has done it again! From the first scene until the last page Christmas at Stoney Creek captured my attention and wouldn’t let go. Tom and Faith’s love story is as sweet as the cinnamon rolls that Faith’s family bakery serves and as interesting as any story Tom reports on for his local newspaper. If you love Christmas tales, this book is a must-read!

  —KATHLEEN Y’BARBO

  BEST-SELLING AUTHOR OF FIREFLY SUMMER FROM THE PIES, BOOKS & JESUS BOOK CLUB SERIES AND THE RITA AWARD–WINNING THE SECRET LIVES OF WILL TUCKER SERIES

  I thoroughly enjoyed Christmas at Stoney Creek, which follows some of the characters in Martha Roger’s The Homeward Journey series. When a bedraggled yet benevolent stranger comes to town, the townsfolk, though curious about the mysterious stranger, embrace the man with friendship and the practicalities of food and a place to live. The people of Stoney Creek live out their faith in genuine, daily practice and are a shining example of what it means to be a believer. Visiting the delightful townsfolk in this series reminds me of a gentler time in which putting the needs of others before one’s own was a way of life. Without giving away anything, the romance is lovely and sweeter than all the sweets in the town bakery. This wonderful story touched my heart but also leaves me longing for one of Mrs. Delmont’s cinnamon rolls.

  —LINDA P. KOZAR

  AUTHOR OF THE WHEN THE FAT LADIES SING MYSTERY SERIES AND BABES WITH A BEATITUDE: DEVOTIONS FOR SMART, SAVVY WOMEN OF FAITH

  Most CHARISMA HOUSE BOOK GROUP products are available at special quantity discounts for bulk purchase for sales promotions, premiums, fund-raising, and educational needs. For details, write Charisma House Book Group, 600 Rinehart Road, Lake Mary, Florida 32746, or telephone (407) 333-0600.

  CHRISTMAS AT STONEY CREEK by Martha Rogers

  Published by Realms

  Charisma Media/Charisma House Book Group

  600 Rinehart Road

  Lake Mary, Florida 32746

  www.charismahouse.com

  This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission of the publisher, except as provided by United States of America copyright law.

  All Scripture quotations are from the King James Version of the Bible.

  This is a work of fiction. The characters portrayed in this book are fictitious unless they are historical figures explicitly named. Otherwise, any resemblance to actual people, whether living or dead, is coincidental.

  Copyright © 2016 by Martha Rogers

  All rights reserved

  Cover design by Studio Gearbox

  Design Director: Justin Evans

  Visit the author’s website at www.marthawrogers.com.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Names: Rogers, Martha, 1936- author.

  Title: Christmas at Stoney Creek / Martha Rogers.

  Description: First edition. | Lake Mary, Florida : Realms, 2016.

  Identifiers: LCCN 2016031935| ISBN 9781629987583 (trade paper) | ISBN

  9781629987590 (ebook)

  Subjects: LCSH: Homeless men--Fiction. | Disguise--Fiction. | Communities--Fiction. | Texas--Fiction. | Christmas stories. |

  | GSAFD:

  Christian fiction. | Love stories.

  Classification: LCC PS3618.O4655 C475 2016 | DDC 813/.6--dc23

  LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2016031935

  International Standard Book Number: 978-1-62998-758-3

  E-book ISBN: 978-1-62998-759-0

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER 01

  CHAPTER 02

  CHAPTER 03

  CHAPTER 04

  CHAPTER 05

  CHAPTER 06

  CHAPTER 07

  CHAPTER 08

  CHAPTER 09

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  CHAPTER 27

  CHAPTER 28

  CHAPTER 29

  CHAPTER 30

  CHAPTER 31

  CHAPTER 32

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  CHAPTER 1

  Stoney Creek, Texas, October 1892

  THE SCRUFFY AND somewhat dirty old man shrank into the corner of his seat on the train. Instead of the foul air surrounding him, Tom Whiteman’s journalistic nose smelled a story.

  Tom contemplated the bedraggled figure a moment longer then folded the notes on the article he had been writing and stowed them in his coat pocket. He’d go over them later, but for the moment this stranger aroused his curiosity. He didn’t appear to have much money, so how had he bought a ticket?

  Instincts borne from reporting unusual events kicked in, and Tom sensed a story behind the tattered clothes and dirty exterior. Other passengers moved away to give the man more room and to escape the odor surrounding him. Snow-white hair needing a haircut as well as a good combing covered the man’s head, and a droopy, discolored mustache graced the man’s upper lip. Although his hunkered-up state gave no clue as to height, his form didn’t carry extra weight.

  While observation gave some clues, Tom would have to sit with the man to learn more about him. He’d make a good personal feature story for the Stoney Creek paper. Tom crossed the aisle and settled into the seat next to the stranger. He extended his hand in greeting. “Hello, I’m Tom Whiteman. I’m on my way back home to Stoney Creek, Texas. Where are you headed?”

  The man’s blue-eyed gaze searched Tom’s face before answering. “Name’s Joe.”

  “Hmm, I see.” Rather evasive. This man strangely dressed in shabby, well-worn clothes hit a chord deep inside that prodded him to dig behind the man’s countenance and learn more. The man’s outward appearance may be ugly and worn, but the serenity in the man’s eyes grabbed Tom’s heart and wouldn’t let go.

  A scripture from First Samuel pressed into Tom. “Man looketh on the outward appearance, but the Lord looketh on the heart.” That’s where he’d start. Find out more about Joe’s life and how he came to be on this train.

  Tom tried his question again. “Are you headed for Stoney Creek? I’ve lived there most of my life and know near about everybody in town.”

  “I’m not headed anywheres in particular. Just wanted to t
ake a train ride. What’s Stoney Creek like?” Joe’s eyes darkened to a deeper blue as he waited for an answer.

  “It’s a nice town, really. We’ve grown quite a lot over the years. My pa’s been the town doctor since I was a baby, and my sister teaches school. We have a newspaper, a library, a number of stores, and an especially good bakery.” Tom’s mouth salivated at the last addition. He’d sure like one of Delmont’s cinnamon rolls or a slice of carrot cake about now. Breakfast had long since disappeared.

  “Maybe I’ll make a stop and see it for myself. Must be named after a nearby creek.” A tentative smile played about Joe’s lips.

  Tom laughed and slapped his knee. “Well, you got that right, even if it is a little obvious. That creek running outside town has more rocks and stones in it than you could ever begin to count. It’s good water too. Always tastes fresh, sweet, and cool even in the heat of summer.”

  Joe nodded and glanced out the window. He flexed his hands then curled his fingers into a fist. Brown spots and veins stood out among the wrinkles. Those hands had seen hard work.

  “What line of work are you in, Joe?”

  “Oh, I dabble in this and that. Did some carpentry work back in the days when my hands weren’t so old.” He held them up then dropped them to his lap. “Ain’t of much use anymore.”

  “I wouldn’t say that. I’m sure there’s plenty you can still do.” Names of people in Stoney Creek who would be willing to help Joe raced through Tom’s mind. In years past their town had taken in more than one stranger and made them welcome, and this time should be no different.

  Joe simply shook his head and stared out the window. Tom glanced around the train car to find passengers staring at him and covering their noses. The old man did reek, but curiosity and a nose for the unusual spurred Tom to stay.

  The conductor came through announcing arrival in Stoney Creek within ten minutes. On impulse Tom reached over and grasped the man’s hand. “Joe, get off at Stoney Creek with me. We’ll find something you can do in our town.”

  Joe nodded but said nothing. He reached under the seat and pulled out an old knapsack and settled it on his lap. This time moisture filled his eyes as he peered at Tom. “That’s a kind invitation, Tom.”

  The train whistle blasted the air and signaled their approach to the station. Now that he’d invited Joe, Tom had to figure out what to do with him. Ma would know. She could and would take care of anyone or anything her children brought into her home. She’d proven that starting with all the stray animals his younger brother, Daniel, had dragged home.

  The train pulled to a stop, wheels screeching in protest against iron rails. Tom peered out the window, his heart filling with pride. The trees all around seemed to have put on their finest fall foliage of orange, yellow, and red to welcome him home after a week of travel.

  He spied a pretty girl in a blue dress searching the windows. His heart swelled, and a grin split his face. Could Angela Booker have come to meet him? Then his brow furrowed as another young woman stepped into view. Faith Delmont. He hadn’t expected one, much less two young women to meet the train.

  He hopped down to the platform then turned to help Joe maneuver the steps. Now that he stood, Tom noted that Joe wasn’t as short and fragile as he’d appeared slumped in his seat, but he still didn’t come near to reaching Tom’s height of a little over six feet.

  With Joe by his side, Tom doffed his hat and smiled at Faith and Angela. “And to what do I owe the pleasure of seeing you two young ladies today?”

  Faith sent a sideways glance toward Angela and pursed her lips as though she’d bitten into a sour lemon. Tom swallowed a chuckle. Could that be jealousy in his friend?

  Angela’s smile lit her face, and her blue eyes danced. “We did miss you, Mr. Whiteman, but I’m here to greet my aunt coming from Austin for a visit. Excuse me, there she is.” With that she stepped around Tom and hugged an elderly woman.

  So much for Angela coming to meet him. Tom turned to speak to Faith, who tried to hide her smirk but didn’t quite get her mouth reset before being caught.

  “I’m glad to see you amused to have me home, Faith.” He pulled Joe forward. “Welcome to our town, Joe. This is Faith Delmont. Her family owns the bakery.”

  Without hesitation, Faith reached out and grasped Joe’s hand. “Pleased to meet you.” She tilted her head to the side. “You must be worn out after your travels.”

  Admiration for Faith jumped a few notches. Not a flicker of distaste or revulsion at the sight and smell of Joe. “Yes, he is, and I’m taking him down to our house so he can rest and clean up from his trip.”

  “That’s nice.” She smiled at Joe again then turned back to Tom. “How did your trip go, Mr. Ace Reporter?”

  “Fine. You’ll see my full report in the next edition.” Out of the corner of his eye he saw Joe stiffen at the mention of his job. Could the old man have something to hide?

  Time would tell.

  Faith swallowed hard to mask her reaction to the odor emanating from Joe’s body and clothing. Never had she met someone so in need of a bath. Even the tramps who sometimes camped by the railroad seemed cleaner than this old man. Tom had given no last name, so she would have to call the man by his given name, although Mama might not approve. Nor would Mama approve of judging the man before finding out more about him.

  Tom headed toward town with Joe on his right, so Faith situated herself on Tom’s left in an attempt to distance herself from the smell. It didn’t help much, but she kept walking.

  At least she had Tom somewhat to herself. Angela had not been on the list of people Faith wanted to see today. Relief had flooded her when Angela stepped away to meet her aunt.

  For so many years Tom had paid attention to Faith and escorted her to social events in town. She’d hoped that he would have declared his intentions by now, but that had not happened. Then Miss Angela Booker and her family moved to town a few months ago, and since then Tom seemed distracted by the pretty new arrival.

  The new church Reverend Booker started was already drawing a nice crowd that had no effect on the attendance at the older church in town, which pleased the leaders of both churches. If Angela weren’t so sweet and nice to everyone, ignoring her or disliking her would be easy. But Faith found herself befriending Angela, welcoming her to the community despite the little tentacles of jealousy that threatened her heart whenever Tom paid attention to the newcomer.

  Tom touched her arm. “Do you think it might be possible to stop at your place and pick up a cinnamon roll? I’ve had a hankering for one all day.”

  “Really? Your mother makes them as well as Mama does, but if that’s what you’d like, then by all means we’ll stop in.” Tom’s mother was one of the best cooks in town and rarely used the bakery except for special occasions. Still, she’d seen Tom put away a cinnamon roll or two at the bakery more than a few times.

  “How about you, Joe? Would you like to have one of my mama’s fresh-baked rolls?” At his grin, Faith gulped. That smile exposed white, very straight teeth. They didn’t match the other bits of his appearance at all. Who was this man?

  Before she had a chance to inquire further, Mrs. Whiteman stepped out from Hempstead’s Mercantile carrying a string bag of groceries. She stopped and grinned at the trio before her.

  “Hello, Faith.” She reached out with her free arm and hugged Tom. “I heard the train and figured you’d be coming this way soon. It’s good to have you home, Son.”

  She turned her gaze to Joe. Her nose wrinkled slightly, but a smile graced her lips and eyes to erase the reaction. “And who do we have here?”

  “Ma, this is Joe. I met him on the train and invited him to visit Stoney Creek. He’s a carpenter.” Tom visibly held his breath waiting for his mother’s response.

  Faith’s shoulders tensed then relaxed as Mrs. Whiteman grasped the man’s hand. “Welcome, Joe. I’m Tom’s mother. We can always use a good carpenter around Stoney Creek. We’ll be having supper shortly, and I imagine you�
�re tired from the journey.” She turned to Tom. “Bring him with you, and he can freshen up and have dinner with us.”

  Joe pulled off his battered old hat. “I don’t want to be any trouble, ma’am. Perhaps I can find a room at the boardinghouse.”

  “Pshaw, no trouble at all. I’ll go on ahead and tell the others you’re coming. I might even stop by and see if Emma Hutchins has an empty room if you’d like, although we could find a place for you at our house. Oh, and Faith, you’re more than welcome to come to supper too.”

  “That would be wonderful, Mrs. Whiteman, and I thank you, but with Mrs. Gladstone’s big party tomorrow, Mama and I have a lot of baking to finish up tonight.” How she’d love to spend the evening with the family and perhaps have some time alone with Tom, but duty came first.

  Mrs. Whiteman’s hand flew to her mouth. “Of course. How could I have forgotten that? It’s practically all Clara’s talked about the past few weeks.” She clutched her package to her chest. “I’ll be off then. Don’t be too long, Tom. Your sisters will be delighted you’re home.”

  As soon as she left, Tom herded Joe toward the bakery, and Faith followed along. If only Tom would invite her for a walk Sunday after church, she’d be happy, but lately his attentions seemed to be everywhere but on her. Of course his job as a reporter for the weekly newspaper kept him busy and sometimes out of town, like the past week.

  When they walked into the bakery, two patrons grabbed their purchases, wrinkled their noses, and hurried from the shop. Faith cringed but couldn’t blame the women. Joe didn’t just smell; he reeked as bad as a riled-up skunk.

  Mama frowned and glanced over at Faith, who shrugged slightly by way of an answer. At Faith’s request Mama reached under the counter to grab two cinnamon rolls. “These are from this morning, but they’re still fresh.” She wrapped them in paper and handed one each to Joe and Tom.

  “Thanks, Mrs. Delmont. I sure have missed these.” Tom stuffed his hand into his pocket and came out with two coins. He placed the coins on the counter then grabbed Joe’s arm. “C’mon. We can eat these on our way home.”

  Faith stared after them as they sauntered down the street, each one munching on a cinnamon roll. When she turned, her mother peered at her with narrowed eyes and one raised eyebrow.