The WESTWARD Christmas BRIDES COLLECTION: 9 Historical Romances Answer the Call of the American West

by Wanda E. Brunstetter, Susan Page Davis, Melanie Dobson, Cathy Liggett, Vickie McDonough, Olivia Newport, Janet Spaeth, Jennifer Rogers Spinola

  Hayden, my good friend, I must ask a tremendous favor of you. Please go to my abode as soon as you receive this message. My daughter will be there waiting for you. I’m sorry I didn’t have time to properly pack her things, but they are few. She is capable for a child of six, but I don’t want to leave her alone a moment longer than necessary. In the sugar jar on the counter you will find enough bills for the journey and my sister’s address. I will meet you there, and I will explain everything.

  Gerald

  Belinda nudged away the cherry pie without even picking up the dessert fork, and she shook her head when the waiter inquired whether she wanted coffee.

  Her parents had the grace not to say much of anything, at least nothing that had to do with Hayden. Edith prattled intermittently about the party neighbors had invited them to for the following evening—a party where Belinda had fully expected to accept congratulations on her engagement—but her chatter focused on what she already knew the buffet table would hold and who was planning to attend. The lump in Belinda’s throat seemed to thicken by the minute. She wished her mother would just stop talking.

  Eventually, Edith did fall silent, alternating between sipping her coffee and dabbing her lips with her napkin.

  William laid his fork down on his empty pie plate. “I’ll settle the bill, then, and we should be going.”

  “You go,” Belinda said. “I think I would like to wait a little longer.”

  “My dear daughter,” her mother said, “we waited as long as we could to begin. Now we’ve had an entire dinner. Do you really believe he will turn up this late?”

  “I’m not ready to go home,” Belinda said evenly. “Perhaps I’ll have some coffee after all.”

  “I’ll be happy to make some for you at home. Anything you like. You hardly ate a bite.”

  The cheery Christmas music grated on Belinda’s nerves now. She blocked it out. “Please. I won’t stay long, I promise.”

  “But who will see you home?”

  Hayden, of course. “I’ll look for a cab,” she said.

  “They’ll be hard to come by once the theater lets out.”

  “I won’t stay that long. Or I’ll find an omnibus.” Or Hayden will be here.

  Belinda met her mother’s eyes. Even as a child she had matched Edith’s stubborn streak, and tonight she meant to win.

  “We’ll go,” her father said, “but if you are not home in one hour, I shall come fetch you myself.”

  “Thank you.”

  While the table was being cleared, Belinda indicated she wanted to keep her pie. She needed something to pick at. “May I have coffee, please?” she said.

  Surely Gerald hadn’t left his motherless six-year-old child alone in their small house.

  Hayden hustled through the streets uncertain he would recognize Gerald’s home once he found the right lane. He had only been there one time, and that was more than two years ago when Gerald’s wife fell ill and died far more quickly than anyone had anticipated. No one expected her to die at all, but she did. Hayden hadn’t seen the girl on that visit. He had never seen her. Was she dark like Gerald or fair like his wife? When her mother died, the child was whisked away and sheltered from the funeral. After everything was over, Gerald soldiered on with the help of a woman who kept the girl while Gerald worked, but he took new employment at a monthly publication rather than a daily newspaper, so his hours would be more predictable. Hayden had not seen Gerald in the last two years either. If she was six, the child was old enough to begin her education, an endeavor Hayden doubted Gerald was prepared to undertake unless he had become more attentive to details than Hayden recalled.

  Gerald must have lost his mind. If he did leave the girl, he was even more negligent than Hayden imagined. If he sent the note to Hayden as some kind of hoax—Hayden hated to think his old friend was capable of that.

  Hayden found the street, or he thought he had. He stopped at the end of the lane to take his bearings. Gas lamps glowed in narrow windows, and chimneys released smoke in shadowy plumes against the night sky. The temperature had dropped, and after receiving Gerald’s note, Hayden had dashed out of his building without thinking to snatch his overcoat off the hook. He shivered now with the cold and the uncertainty of what he would find—but also with the realization that he had dreadfully disappointed the one person he loved more than any other.

  But a child.

  How could he have set aside Gerald’s note until a more convenient time?

  The slush covered Hayden’s shoes and wicked up through the fabric of his trousers. He pushed his feet forward, aiming for the tiny house at the end of the lane with a feeble light flickering from deep inside it. If he was to believe the note, a child sat vigil with that candle waiting for someone to come, someone to care.

  This was not just another story to write before the deadline. He would explain to Belinda as soon as he could, and she would understand.

  Belinda took a handkerchief from her handbag and dabbed the wet blotches below her eyes.

  “Will there be anything else?” the waiter asked.

  “No, thank you.” Belinda produced a wan smile. “I appreciate your patience.”

  She retrieved her coat on the rack near the door and buttoned it tight before tying her hat on her head. The doorman performed his task on her behalf. Crisp air bit into her cheeks as soon as she stepped outside. Her mother had been right. No cabs lined Larimer Street. Belinda would have to walk at least far enough to seek better odds of finding transportation. She looked both directions before choosing one. Lights from the train station at Twenty-First and Wazee caught her eye.

  The train station.

  Belinda blew out her breath and watched it curl in the night air. For more than a year, her cousin Vanessa had been writing from San Francisco, begging Belinda to visit. Just a month ago, Vanessa had written a cogent argument for why it wasn’t too late for Belinda to come for Christmas even if her parents didn’t want to travel. She fingered the soft bottom of her bag, feeling the thickness of the bills. She saved a few dollars at a time. Her income was limited to the weeks her father was of a mind to pay her for the time she spent working in his shop. Because she wanted for nothing at home, he saw little need to be generous, but she could count on something from time to time and had saved nearly all of it for three years.

  How much would it cost to ride the train to San Francisco? Belinda hadn’t considered Vanessa’s proposition seriously, so she had never made the needed inquiry. Since she was going to become engaged at Christmas, it had hardly seemed like the time to plan a trip.

  If she wasn’t going to become engaged—which the evening seemed to prove—what was holding her back?

  Hayden pushed gently on the door. It gave.

  “Hello?” He wished he could remember the child’s name. The house was small, just four rooms, and he could see straight through it. The candlelight he had seen from the street emanated from the kitchen at the back of the house. A plain wooden table, positioned against one wall just the way Hayden remembered it, reassured him he was in the right house.

  “Hello?” he said again as he closed the door behind him. There was no fire in the grate. The only warmth in the house, as well as the only light, came from that candle on the kitchen table.

  “I’m in here.”

  The tiny voice, on the brink of a tremble, guided Hayden’s steps. He found the girl sitting in a straight-back chair tucked under the table with a closeness and security he doubted the child could have achieved on her own. Her feet dangled well above the floor. Brown eyes framed by dark curls under a red wool hat looked up in expectation.

  “I’m Hayden,” he said, “a friend of your father’s.”

  “Yes, sir. Papa said you would come. I only had to wait.”

  Hayden swallowed. How could Gerald know any such thing? How could he be sure Hayden would get the note? If Hayden had left on time for dinner, he would not have been home to open the door to the messenger boy.

  “You look
like you have been very patient.” Hayden sat across from the girl and stretched a hand out to warm it over the feeble flame. “What’s your name?”

  “Eloise.”

  “It’s a lovely name.” Hayden took a breath. “Eloise, do you know where your father is?”

  She shook her head. “We’re to meet him at Aunty’s house.”

  “I thought we might try to catch him before we leave, but I can’t think where to look.”

  “Papa said I will be safe with you and we’ll be together again at Aunty’s house.” Eloise managed to slide sideways out of her chair, dropped to the floor, and crossed to the small length of counter. She returned to the table with the sugar canister.

  “Have you eaten, Eloise?”

  “I had lunch.”

  Hayden knew his first step would be to feed this poor child. He opened the canister and found an envelope matching the one he had received earlier. Inside were folded bills and a card with an address and the words, Thank you. I promise to explain.

  Chapter 2

  Have you considered that you might be carrying this a tad far?” A few minutes after midnight, in her nightclothes and robe, Edith Michaels stood in her daughter’s bedroom door frame.

  Belinda had exchanged her own evening wear for a comfortable calico dress that allowed her to move freely and easily. “I only know I can’t bear to be here over the holidays. How can I put on a cheery face for my friends when so many of them are expecting an announcement?”

  “You might still make an announcement—perhaps New Year’s instead of Christmas.”

  Belinda tugged open the lid of her largest trunk. “I can’t think about that now. Everything has gone wrong.”

  “But you love Hayden Fairbanks. Anyone can see that when you are together.”

  A pair of shoes thudded into the bottom of the trunk. “Love hasn’t always proven the best basis for a matrimonial match.”

  “Belinda Carol, I insist you stop this nonsense right this minute.” Edith marched into the room and slammed down the lid to the trunk.

  Belinda calmly moved to the wide mahogany wardrobe. “The sensible thing would be to first think about what I will need on the train and find a small bag to keep with me. Everything else can go in the trunk in the baggage car.” She took a traveling skirt and matching jacket off a hook. The items were in good condition but not so new that she would be devastated if harm befell them on the journey.

  Edith pointed to the clock. “Christmas Eve is in three days. You can’t seriously be thinking of leaving now—and traveling unescorted. You are going to give your father a heart attack.”

  Belinda opened the trunk once more. “I already bought the ticket, Mama. If I wait for an escort or traveling companion, I’ll never go.”

  “Would that be so bad?”

  “I’m not going into the wilderness. There are trains and towns all along the way, and when I get there I will stay with Vanessa and her husband.”

  “For how long?”

  Belinda folded a dress. “I’m not sure. That’s why I’m taking the large trunk.”

  “Are you even going to tell Hayden?”

  Belinda pulled open a drawer and chose her words with care. “I can write to him from the train tomorrow. By the time I get to Cheyenne, the letter will be on a mail train back to Denver.” And it would be too late for Hayden to come after her.

  “And if he shows up here first?”

  Belinda shrugged. “Tell him whatever you like.”

  “You’re being ridiculous, Belinda. Stay here. You and Hayden will sort this out.”

  “Perhaps.” Or perhaps not. Maybe her father’s hesitations about Hayden were well founded after all. “I only know I need to go somewhere I can step back and think clearly.”

  The clock on Hayden’s dresser announced two o’clock in the morning. He sat in an armchair with a soft gaslight burning low on the side table. Next to the door sat Eloise’s tattered carpetbag. His wasn’t in much better condition. If he had known he would be traveling, he might have gone into William Michael’s dry goods store to inquire whether he had any suitable bags within a newspaper man’s budget.

  In his lap, with a book to provide a writing surface, Hayden held a sheet of stationery and a fountain pen. As soon as daylight broke, he would go down to the street and find a boy to take the letter. It was too late tonight either to find a messenger or to have a messenger pull the bell at the Michaels residence, but Belinda’s day should begin with assurance of his love and a rudimentary explanation of his absence from his own official engagement. He read through his note one last time, finding nothing satisfactory in it but knowing he could do no better. In the morning, he would go to the last place he was sure Gerald had worked, return his daughter to his care, and then go directly to Belinda with a full account of events. And if he couldn’t find Gerald—Hayden toyed with how to finish the thought.

  Though she had at first been insatiably curious about everything in his rooms, the child now slept easily, perhaps from exhaustion at the late hour when Hayden brought her back to his home or perhaps in security that she was in no danger. She seemed to have no fear that her father had abandoned her. He had, after all, made arrangements for her and given her over to someone he trusted. The ultimate destination was clear, and Gerald had given a father’s promise that he would be there at the end of her journey.

  From Hayden’s perspective, however, it was absurd. He knew nothing about taking care of a child, and in addition to an almost-fiancée, he had an editor who would want an explanation for an indefinite absence. Hayden decided to write a second note for the morning and hoped he still had a job when he returned.

  He didn’t particularly enjoy traveling. Gerald knew that.

  He and Gerald had known each other well. But they had not seen each other since Gerald left the newspaper where Hayden still worked. Hayden refused to speculate about what was in Gerald’s mind. He was a newsman who concerned himself with reporting facts, not wild guesses. Hayden watched the girl’s chest rise and fall. Somehow Gerald had kept her secure and happy on his own for the last two years. If Gerald felt he must make this outrageous request, then Hayden was certain he had a good reason. In the end, he would do what Gerald asked, and if he missed the train to Cheyenne in the morning, he would lose an entire day tracking Gerald.

  Now if only Belinda would find trust a convincing motivation for what Hayden was about to do.

  This would be the first time Belinda had traveled west on the railroads. She had been east through Kansas to St. Louis and up to Chicago the previous year with her parents; and when she was a child growing up in St. Louis, her family had traveled to several eastern destinations by rail. Comporting herself on a train didn’t cause anxiety. Even the multiple train changes required between Denver and San Francisco didn’t concern her. In fact, standing beside the network of tracks at Twenty-First and Wazee early the next morning, she felt oddly free of any anxiety. The last few months had a single trajectory—to become engaged to Hayden Fairbanks. The events of last evening had given her pause for the first time.

  Perhaps she would work things out with Hayden—eventually. Her mother was right. She did love him.

  But for now she sought to escape impending humiliation.

  She needed to watch the countryside roll out before her eyes.

  She wanted to feel the engines strain with the promise of a brighter day for every passenger on the train.

  She craved Vanessa’s arms around her and the knowledge that it was safe to speak the truth, no matter what it was.

  She dreamed of a clear spot in her mind and in her heart.

  Belinda was grateful for the warm wrap her grandmother in St. Louis had sent for Christmas just a year ago, and she now fastened the top button under her chin. Long strings of railroad cars filled two tracks, one a passenger train and the other freight. The third track stood open. This was where Belinda’s train would pull in from the south. She had arrived long before it was scheduled to leave
again to head north into Wyoming, but she had to leave her father’s predawn silence and her mother’s agitation. One last time before she crossed them, Belinda savored the view of the mountains stretching north and south as far as she could see. Every peak was snowcapped and shimmered in winter morning sun. Belinda inhaled the crisp air she wished could also clean her restless heart.

  A train thundered on the northbound track from Colorado Springs.

  Hayden never imagined traveling with a child would be so slow. In his family, he had been the little brother, and he wondered why everyone was in such a hurry all the time.

  Eloise wasn’t a difficult child, at least not yet. She woke easily when he touched her shoulder in the morning—after being awake all night himself—and she accepted his suggestion of oatmeal for breakfast without dispute. But Hayden was beginning to discern that her patience with the strange events of the night before was an extension of her general temperament. She was patient about everything. Too patient. Dressing. Eating. The arduous process of his figuring out what to do with a little girl’s unruly dark tresses.

  “I’m going to go down to the street to find a messenger,” Hayden said. “You stay right here.”

  Hayden already understood her well enough to know she would, but he locked the door behind him and took the stairs down in a rapid staccato rhythm. He found a newsboy out with his early papers and persuaded him to run with the notes Hayden had written the night before. A telegraph in a couple of hours would further assure Belinda.

  When he returned, Eloise was right where he left her. Hayden thought she would never get her stockings on and her shoes buttoned, as content as she was to sit on the side of the bed and hum snatches of various children’s rhymes punctuated with random remarks about what she observed around his rooms.

  “I’m afraid we must hurry, Eloise,” he said with a gentle touch to her knee. He took a shoe in one hand and slipped it on her foot.