A Basket Brigade Christmas

by Judith Mccoy Miller

  “Yes, Papa, you’re right.”

  Her father assisted her into the buggy. She held the reins loosely in her hand, but before she flicked the leather straps, she met her father’s gaze. “I think you should have the doctor call on Mama again. She was making progress, but last evening when I returned home and again today, it seemed she wasn’t doing well.”

  “I’m afraid you’re right. I think she pushed herself too much once the doctor said she was doing better. I’ll go over and fetch him once I close the bakery.”

  Sarah hesitated. “I have time to go by his office before I go to the depot. Why don’t I see if he’s there? If not, I’ll leave a note on his desk and ask him to call on her when he returns.”

  “That would be good.” Her father gave a quick wave before hurrying back inside to the warmth of the bakery. Though summers in the shop were brutal, the heat provided by their ovens during the winter months was welcomed by both the family and their customers.

  Sarah lightly flicked the reins, and when the horse didn’t respond with much enthusiasm, she slapped the leather straps with a bit more gusto. “Get along, Blaze. I don’t have time for you to move at that slow gait.” The horse hearkened to her command and changed from a walk to a trot. When they arrived at the doctor’s office a short time later, she tied the horse and hurried inside. She called out to the doctor, but the fading echo of the bell over the front door was the only response.

  She had hoped to visit with Dr. Kirkland, but there was no telling when he might return. Instead, she used the pen and paper left on the desk for such purposes. Fortunately, no other notes requesting his ministrations littered the desk, so Mama should be his first visit when he returned to the office. Sarah uttered a silent prayer that he wasn’t delivering a baby. When those blessed events took place, the doctor could sometimes be away for several hours or even the entire day.

  Her inability to visit with the doctor would give her a little extra time at the depot. For once, she hoped none of the other women would arrive early. She wanted to have a talk with Matthew. He’d created discord with his comments to Jacob, and she was going to be clear: Matthew must refrain from such behavior in the future.

  After traveling the short distance to the depot, Sarah stepped down from the buggy and tied Blaze to one of the iron posts situated outside the depot before removing two of the bread trays. Learning to balance two of the trays at one time had saved her countless minutes in the cold weather.

  In spite of her pleas that he leave her alone, Matthew appeared at the door wearing his heavy coat. “Let me take those for you.”

  Sarah shook her head. “I’m fine. I’ve told you I don’t need your help.”

  “Whether you need it or not, it’s a gentleman’s place to offer assistance to a lady in need.”

  Sarah didn’t return his smile. “Is it a gentleman’s place to hinder and hurt a lady, as well?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means you’ve both hindered and hurt me by telling Corporal Curtis untruths.”

  He reeled back as though she’d slapped him. “Are you saying I lied?”

  She narrowed her eyes and gripped the trays harder. “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying. What’s more, I expect you to set matters aright when he comes through on the train this evening. You need to tell him that I have been consistent in my refusal to be courted by you and have been clear that I have no interest in you as a suitor. You know the truth, but you chose to mislead Jacob.” She pushed past him and strode inside with Matthew close on her heels.

  “I stretched the truth, but I did it for your own good. I’m a much better choice than Jacob Curtis. You barely know him.”

  Her eyes blazed with conviction. “You’re right. I don’t know him well, but in these past weeks we’ve learned a great deal about each other. Besides, how well I know him isn’t any of your business!”

  They both looked up as Clara Wingard and Nellie Hanson bustled into the depot with a rush of cold air following them. Nellie’s gaze immediately settled on Matthew. “Since you’re just standing around, could you go out to my buggy and get my other baskets? They’re filled with jars of pickled peaches, and my rheumatism is acting up in this cold weather. Go on now.”

  Matthew’s features creased in annoyance when he turned toward the door. He’d made certain neither Clara nor Nellie had seen his scowl, but Sarah hadn’t missed it.

  He grunted and pulled his cap low on his head. “I’ll be going over to the hotel as soon as I bring your baskets inside, so don’t plan any other work for me.”

  The depot door banged, and Clara rubbed her arms against the cold air as she stared after Matthew. “The way he slammed that door, I’m thinking he’s mad as a wet hen.”

  Nellie chuckled. “That’s ’cause he doesn’t want to spend his time helping us old ladies. He’s wanting to impress Sarah.” She nudged Sarah’s arm. “We all know how jealous he is because of Jacob.”

  Clara nodded. “She’s right on that account. I’ve seen it with my own eyes. Matthew’s not one who can hide his feelings.”

  Sarah’s features creased into a frown. “If Matthew’s said anything to make you believe there’s something between us, it bears no truth.”

  Nellie winked. “Don’t worry. We know what’s what.”

  Matthew returned with the baskets of pickled peaches slung over his arms and a pound cake in each hand. He placed the items on the table with a thud and stalked out of the depot.

  Sarah watched as he snaked his way around the dining tables in the café and continued through the door leading to the hotel lobby. She’d no doubt angered him, but he’d overstepped his bounds. She’d had quite enough of Matthew Slade.

  Chapter 12

  As the train belched and hissed into the station, Sarah’s anticipation reached new heights. Her stomach fluttered, and her heart pounded so hard she was certain anyone who came near would hear the thrumming beat. Her eagerness to hear what Jacob had to say about their future had monopolized her thoughts after she’d gone to bed last night. While she knew it was best to keep a level head in unknown circumstances, she wasn’t certain how one attained such a feat.

  This evening, she was determined to make time for him. Though he hadn’t been wounded, Jacob was a soldier serving the Union and worthy of her uninterrupted attention. That’s what she’d told herself, though she doubted the other ladies in the Basket Brigade would agree. Still, she wouldn’t be deterred. The moment he stepped down from the train she exited the depot and motioned for him to join her.

  His eyebrows dipped low and his features creased in confusion as he approached her side. “Are you not serving the men in my car tonight?”

  “I’ll go and finish once we’ve talked, but I asked two of the other ladies to attend to your car and they agreed.”

  A generous smile curved his lips. “You’ve made me very happy by taking special measures so that we can have time together.”

  “When you departed, you said you wanted to talk about our future. I’d like to discuss our future as well.”

  He lightly grasped her elbow and led her to the small alcove where they would have a bit of privacy. As she looked deep into Jacob’s eyes, an unexpected yearning ignited deep inside. He cupped her cheek and whispered her name. In the flickering lamplight, his eyes shone with undeniable longing, and she tipped her cheek deeper into his hand, reveling in his touch.

  “Although we’ve known each other only a short time, I asked to be reassigned because I wanted to be with you more often. In our short visits together, I’ve come to care for you a great deal. I think you already know that. I admit that Matthew’s comments gave me some momentary concern, and I let my jealousy get the best of me. I’m sorry for my behavior. I handled the matter poorly, but I’m thankful we parted on good terms yesterday.” His voice reedy, he inhaled a deep breath as if to gain the strength needed to continue. “Since then, I’ve had a chance to pray about the future, and I truly believe you are the
woman I am destined to wed.”

  Sincerity laced his words, and Sarah’s heart leaped with joy. He’d spoken the words she had hoped to hear—had prayed she would hear. She reached for his hand and clasped it within her own. “You’ve made me so happy, Jacob. I prayed your thoughts were the same as my own.”

  “Then you’ll permit me to court you?” He lightly squeezed her fingers. “At least as much courting as I can manage, what with my travels back and forth.”

  “I can’t think of anything that would give me greater joy. And you can be sure that I understand your time is not your own. The Union must come first for all of us, but I do feel much more fortunate than the ladies who love a man who has been sent to the front.”

  His eyes radiated love as he leaned down and placed a tender kiss on her lips. Then he smiled down at her. “I hope my kiss didn’t offend you. I should have asked your permission.”

  She touched her fingers to the stubble that darkened his jawline. How wonderful to have these moments alone, for with their responsibilities, who could say when they would have another opportunity? When she voiced her thoughts, Jacob tapped his breast pocket.

  “I have already received permission to return to Decatur by private train rather than on one of the hospital trains. That way, I can return as soon as the wounded soldiers are settled in at the hospital in Chicago. I figure that will give us at least two or three hours each trip, and there will be some days when there will be delays, so I may even have an extra day or two. And I don’t want to hear any objections due to train fare. I’ve been saving my money, and I can think of no better way to spend it.”

  Sarah momentarily considered telling him that it might be best to save the money for their household needs should they decide to marry in the future, but she immediately pushed aside the thought. Even though they’d been discussing the future, voicing such a presumptuous statement would be unseemly. Talk of household furnishings should wait until there was a proposal and wedding plans. Besides, Jacob was right. They needed more time together, so purchasing train tickets made perfect sense.

  “May I have one more kiss before we get back to our duties?”

  Her stomach fluttered in anticipation as she tipped her head to look into his eyes. Her pulse thudded as she lifted her hands to his chest. She gave a slight nod, and he slowly lowered his head. His mouth took hers, his lips gentle and then more urgent as he deepened the kiss. She turned weak at his touch, and when he suddenly pulled away, her knees buckled and she leaned into him to gain her balance.

  A shiver raced through her as he traced his finger along her lips. “I think we’d better get back to our duties before someone comes looking for us.”

  He was right. To have someone find them would cause no end of embarrassment—not to mention the gossip. Her name would be the main course at every dinner table in Decatur and a humiliation to her family. She took his arm as they stepped from the alcove, but already she missed the warmth of his embrace.

  Gray clouds draped the morning sky and were a close match for her father’s gloom as he shuffled around the bakery. He’d been in a sour mood all morning. The doctor had arrived to examine her mother before Sarah had returned home last evening. While she understood her father’s despair, the doctor’s report hadn’t been devastating. Perhaps something else was causing his glum behavior. Her stomach knotted. Was something wrong with Samuel? Had they received word but not told her?

  Her father’s shoulders slumped over the worktable as he kneaded a mound of dough, a job that could tire the arms of the strongest, especially when her mother wasn’t here to take over for a short time so his arms could regain their strength.

  Instead of sifting the flour for the next batch of loaves, Sarah stepped to his side and nudged his shoulder. “Let’s exchange jobs for a while, Papa. I’ll knead the dough and you mix up the next batch of bread.”

  She reached in front of him and plunged her hands into the dough, not permitting him an opportunity to object. He gave a slight nod. “I could use a rest. I miss your mama’s help.”

  “I know you do, and I’ll try to do more to help you.”

  His jaw twitched. “You can’t do your job and mine, too.”

  “You’re doing your job and Mama’s, so if we divide the work, it will be easier. I’ll do as much as I can when I’m not helping customers or making the deliveries.”

  Samuel was the one who had devised the plan to deliver bread. No matter the weather and no matter how weary he might have been, her brother had made certain that the orders were made in a timely fashion each day. When he’d joined the army, the deliveries had fallen to Sarah. While she didn’t mind on days when the weather cooperated, she’d grown to abhor making the rounds when sleet pelted the buggy or the snow became so deep that she had to use the old sleigh. Her father had threatened to cease the deliveries when Samuel departed, but their customers had raised a hue and cry that made the cessation impossible. With many of the men away from home, having their bread delivered was one less chore for the ladies, and a time-saving pleasure they’d come to depend upon. They’d rallied against the idea with such vigor that neither her father nor Sarah had been left with a choice. The deliveries would continue, and Sarah would make them.

  The frown that tightened her father’s features slowly eased, and he nodded. “We will give it a try and see how it works—for both of us. You have your mother’s duties at the train depot each day, too.”

  Though his mood had lightened, he still appeared lost in thought. “Are you worried about Mama—or Samuel?”

  He glanced her way. “Both.”

  Sarah dug her fingers into the dough. “Have you had any news of Samuel? Something you haven’t told me?” Her scalp prickled when her father didn’t immediately answer. She withdrew her hands from the mound of sticky dough as panic seized her. “You have, haven’t you?”

  “We received a letter that had been sent by one of his friends. He’d given it to the fellow and asked him to send it to us if he was injured in battle. The letter held no particulars about his wounds or what had happened. Only a note in Samuel’s handwriting, explaining that if we received the letter, we would know that he’d been injured.” His voice cracked. “Or killed.”

  Sarah swiped her hands down the front of her apron as if the gesture could sweep away the unwanted news. A lump formed in her throat, but she pressed her father for further information. She wanted to know where the battle had occurred, if the letter had any sort of marking to indicate the place from which it had been mailed or any snippet that could offer a clue as to Samuel’s whereabouts and the extent of his injuries, and when had it been received.

  Her father waved her toward the worktable and the mound of resting dough. “You need to work the dough or the bread will not rise as it should. There isn’t time to be idle.” Instead of his usual commanding tone, his voice was thin and somber.

  “Yes, Papa, but can I read the letter when I’ve finished?” She was hurt that she hadn’t been told immediately upon her return home last evening or when she’d entered the kitchen this morning. If she hadn’t quizzed her father, she wondered if he would have waited even longer to give her the news.

  He nodded. “You can read it. I picked it up at the general store yesterday, but you’ll discover the letter says nothing more than what I’ve told you.”

  Sarah had been in the general store to make bread deliveries to Mr. Logan yesterday morning, and he’d not mentioned any mail for their family. Then again, ever since Milo Wilson had left his job at the store to join the army, the mail didn’t get sorted with any regularity. There was no telling how long it might have been sitting in one of the mailbags dropped at the depot. There was no denying Mr. Logan put the needs of his store first and his position as postmaster second, and many wondered if the town would be better served if the position was given to Silas Tait over at Maddox Mercantile. Of course, Silas wasn’t the type who would agree to the position without first making certain that Mr. Logan had no object
ion.

  When her father finally placed the first loaves in the oven and set the other bread to rise, he relieved her of her kneading duties and handed her the letter.

  Her heart caught at the familiar sight of her brother’s handwriting. To think of him injured and lying in a hospital tent in the freezing cold caused her hands to tremble. What would she do without Samuel? Until Samuel went off to war, they’d always been together. Inseparable twins, they had been more than brother and sister—they were best friends and confidants.

  Sarah pored over the letter, seeking any word or phrase that might give her some clue, but her father had been right. She gleaned nothing further from the missive. Disappointed, she scooted off the stool and shuffled across the room. Her father gestured toward a shelf where he stored supplies, and she tucked the letter alongside a large crock.

  “Does Mama know?”

  “Yes. I asked the doctor if I should tell her. He said it wouldn’t affect her condition and thought I shouldn’t withhold the truth, but I’m not so sure I did right. She barely slept, and I heard her crying last night. I think it would have been better if I hadn’t said anything.” After a glance toward the stairway, he turned back toward Sarah. “Maybe you should go up and spend some time—cheer her a bit. The bread won’t be ready to deliver for quite a while.”

  She nodded and turned toward the stairs. Her father’s request was reasonable, yet how could Sarah cheer her mother when she needed cheering herself? She silently chastised herself as she climbed the steps. Her mother needed to be comforted, and her needs should come first if she was going to recover. Sarah straightened her shoulders and silently prayed that the Lord would heal her mother and that He would give Sarah the peace she needed to encourage her.

  The carpet runner in the hallway muffled Sarah’s footsteps as she approached her parents’ bedroom. She stopped near the door and peeked into the room. Her mother’s hair lay fanned across her pillow, and her eyes were closed. But then, her mother’s eyes fluttered open, and she motioned Sarah forward. “I’m not asleep. I was praying. Come sit with me. Your father has told you the sad news. I can see it in your face.”