The WESTWARD Christmas BRIDES COLLECTION: 9 Historical Romances Answer the Call of the American West
Page 38
The brakeman was beside him now. “It’s a stagecoach!”
“They must be lost.” Hayden waved both his arms above his head. A stagecoach wasn’t much shelter against the elements of the last two days—and none at all for the driver.
The coach, pulled by a team of four horses, made steady progress toward them until it was close enough that Hayden grabbed the harness of one of the front animals. The driver slid out of his seat, his boots stirring up puffs of snow as his feet hit the ground.
“You are a long way from the road,” the brakeman observed.
“What road?” The driver clapped his gloved hands three times and rubbed them together. “I lost my landmarks a long time ago.”
“Do you have passengers?” Hayden asked. “Or just mail?”
“The mail should have been on the train two days back. The passengers are four. A doctor and his wife with their two young daughters. They were determined to spend Christmas in Rock Springs with his ailing parents. We only set out earlier today when it seemed the snow had stopped. Then it started again, and it didn’t take much to lose our way.”
“Have you no conductor to help you?”
The driver shook his head. “The lad refused to continue after the last stop to change horses. He was young and new and a nervous wreck about whether the snow-pack would support the weight of the horses with a coach when we couldn’t be certain what terrain lay underneath.”
“I’m not sure what we can do for the horses, but we should take the passengers inside where it’s warmer.”
“The team will be snug enough next to the train,” the brakeman said. “Do you have any food?”
The driver half grinned. “The missus asked me to be careful with her fruitcake tin when I loaded the luggage.”
Hayden winced. Five more mouths to feed. He hoped the doctor’s children liked fruitcake more than he did.
The stagecoach door opened and a man stuck his head out. “I’m Dr. Truman. I suppose this is as close to Rock Springs as we’re going to get.”
Belinda handed Eloise a magazine that Amanda Barrow had cast off, and the doctor’s young daughters huddled around it with her. The three girls were soon giggling together as they turned pages and inspected the illustrations of fashion. Both of the new girls were older than Eloise and easily read captions and descriptions. Eloise delighted in picking out individual words she recognized and hummed freely in between.
“Thank you for taking us into your fold,” Mrs. Truman said. “I suppose we were foolish to start out this morning, but it is difficult to think of not spending Christmas with our family.”
Belinda wanted to say there was still time, but she knew she should make no such promise.
A young woman hurtled into the sleeper coach with eyes darting around.
Eloise pointed. “Look, it’s Mrs. Stromberg’s friend.”
Belinda stood up and moved toward Mrs. Stromberg’s traveling companion. “What’s wrong, Virginia?”
“I need a doctor.” Virginia’s eyes flashed from side to side. “My employer has taken ill.”
Belinda pivoted and returned to where she had left the Trumans. “Dr. Truman, come quickly. A woman is ill.”
He stood and picked up his bag. “God certainly has His timing.”
“I want to go with you.” Eloise’s brown eyes pleaded.
Not wanting to waste time, Belinda took the girl’s hand. When they found Mrs. Stromberg, Belinda could decide whether to let Eloise see her.
Mrs. Stromberg’s sleeper was five cars back. Belinda and Eloise had stopped only one car too soon on their earlier search. The elderly woman lay in a lower berth. The porter, who must have rapidly converted the day seats, was tucking in the corner of a gray blanket. Several passengers clustered around stepped back now for Dr. Truman, who extracted a stethoscope from his bag and listened to various spots on the woman’s chest. He asked a series of questions about the symptoms and when they had begun. Mrs. Stromberg’s color—or lack of it—alarmed Belinda, but despite her efforts to keep Eloise out of the way, the girl tugged her hand out of Belinda’s grip and wormed her way next to the berth.
Eloise lifted the pale hand that lay above the blanket and held it between both of hers. “Your cookies were the best cookies I ever had. I can sing to cheer you up if you like.”
Mrs. Stromberg gave a weak smile. “Perhaps later.”
Belinda caught the doctor’s eye. He stepped away from the berth and spoke in a low tone.
“I suspect she knew she was ill before she got on the train, though she might not have realized it was certain to worsen. She has a respiratory malady of some sort. I’m afraid I don’t have any medicines with me.”
“Is it serious?”
He pressed his lips in thought. “In a younger person, no. But I don’t think this is the worst of it. We’ll need to watch her through the night and try to get the fever to break.”
“You were smart to trade your berth for one in this car.” Keeping his voice low, Hayden sat beside Belinda across the aisle from Mrs. Stromberg, where they both could hear her raspy effort to breathe.
“She needs someone to look after her,” Belinda murmured.
“Where did her companion go?”
“She’s is too rattled to be much good. I told her to find somewhere to go to bed.” Belinda sighed. “Besides, Eloise doesn’t want to leave Mrs. Stromberg. I finally got her to agree to go to sleep by promising we would be right here all night.”
“She should be sleeping. She’s a little girl, and it is the middle of the night.” Hayden glanced across to the day bench where Eloise dozed. The porter had made up all the other berths, but they had asked him to leave the benches across the aisle from Mrs. Stromberg. Eloise could sleep on one, and Hayden and Belinda could sit up on the other.
The old woman coughed sharply. Belinda was on her feet in an instant and laid a hand on Mrs. Stromberg’s forehead. “The fever has gone up.”
“Shall I find Dr. Truman?” Hayden’s query came in a hoarse whisper.
Belinda shook her head. “He would just tell us we need to cool her off. My mother used to drench a cloth in cold water when I had a fever.”
Hayden stood and lifted his coat off its hook. “I imagine a bucket of snow would give us all the cool water we need.”
“I have a towel.” Belinda reached for her small bag on the shelf above the seats.
Mrs. Stromberg coughed again. This time it took hold, her chest rattling for half a minute or more.
“Uncle, what’s going on?” Eloise threw off her blanket and sat up.
“We’re just trying to take care of Mrs. Stromberg.” Hayden laid a calming hand on Eloise’s shoulder.
Eloise wrapped her blanket around her shoulders and stepped into the aisle. She climbed onto the berth beside the old woman and took the wrinkled skin and gnarled joints of Mrs. Stromberg’s hand between her own smooth, soft, perfect ones. “I’m going to pray for you,” she whispered.
Hayden and Belinda looked at each other.
“Dear Lord Jesus,” Eloise began, her eyes squeezed closed. “My papa says I can talk to You about anything. I’m going to talk to You about Mrs. Stromberg. Being sick on a train stuck in the snow is frightening. I would like You to help Mrs. Stromberg not be frightened. Thank You that she smells like flowers. Thank You for sending the doctor to us today. Amen.”
Hayden let out a slow breath. “I know where I can find a bucket. I’ll be right back.”
The sweetness of Eloise’s prayer made tears well in Belinda’s eyes. She reached into her skirt pocket for a handkerchief to wipe her nose. Eloise had plenty of reason to be frightened herself—she didn’t know where her father was, she didn’t understand how far away her aunt lived, she was stranded on a train in a blizzard and running out of food, people around her were irritable and argumentative. Yet the girl’s prayer overflowed with peace and gratitude.
The coughing took siege again. Eloise calmly spread her small fingers on the woman’s
chest. When the spasm passed, she leaned forward to kiss a wrinkled cheek.
Awake now, Mrs. Stromberg turned her head toward Eloise. “I remember you. You would’ve eaten all my cookies if your uncle had not intervened.” Her chest rose with the labor of taking in enough air to support speech.
“They were delicious cookies.” Eloise grinned.
“The secret is lots of butter.” Mrs. Stromberg winked one eye. “I still have some.”
Belinda nudged Eloise. “We should let Mrs. Stromberg rest.”
“I am resting,” the old woman said. “I’m in bed, aren’t I? The child is good medicine.”
Belinda straightened the blanket around Eloise’s shoulders, and then pulled Mrs. Stromberg’s blanket snug before laying the backs of her fingers against the woman’s forehead again.
“Burning up, no doubt,” Mrs. Stromberg said.
“I’m afraid so. We’re going to try to cool you off with some wet cloths.”
“Sounds ghastly.”
“Hayden went for snow.”
“Ghastlier still.”
“We want to help you get well.”
“I am glad you two worked things out.” Mrs. Stromberg coughed, air clattering out of her lungs with a fury.
Belinda moistened her lips. “Someday I will learn to get all the information before I draw conclusions.” Being in love with a journalist should have taught her that much by now.
“Are you hungry?” Eloise asked. “When I am sick, Papa always tells me I must eat good food.”
Belinda winced. Though she agreed with Eloise’s father, at the moment the food options were few.
Hayden returned. Snow brimmed the bucket.
Eloise tightened her grasp on Mrs. Stromberg’s hand. “It’s all right. I’ll stay with you while they put the snow on you.” The little girl hummed a few notes.
Hayden handed the bucket to Belinda, who encased the top of the snow pile in her towel and transferred the ensuing dampness to Mrs. Stromberg’s forehead.
“There’s been a telegraph,” Hayden said. “They expect the rescue crews will reach us by morning. A work train is coming from the west.”
Belinda’s eyes shone with anticipation. Her mouth, open slightly, asked unspoken questions. All Hayden could think was how much he wanted to kiss her.
“It will still take some time to dig out,” Hayden said, “but we’ll have better equipment and men with proper attire for the elements.”
“Tomorrow is Christmas Eve,” Belinda said. “Perhaps there is hope after all, at least for some passengers.”
“Christmas is hope for all people,” Mrs. Stromberg whispered. “ ‘Risen with healing in His wings.’ ”
Belinda moved the cold cloth to Mrs. Stromberg’s neck. “That’s a lovely reminder.”
Hayden lowered himself into the seat across the aisle from where Belinda nursed Mrs. Stromberg and Eloise remained perched on the berth. Contentment washed over him. Two days ago the question most on his mind was what in the world he was supposed to do with a six-year-old girl. Now, with the prospect of rescue and finishing the journey, he wondered what he would do without Eloise.
The snow in the bucket melted. Seeing her eyes begin to droop, Hayden lifted Eloise off Mrs. Stromberg’s berth and put her back in her own makeshift bed. He and Belinda took turns dipping the towel in the icy water and laying it afresh on Mrs. Stromberg’s face, neck, and arms. The old woman dozed on and off. Hayden and Belinda murmured intermittent conversation in the dimly lit car as the yawning hours of the night passed.
Hayden roused when he felt the touch on his shoulder and looked up to see Amanda Barrow and Dr. Truman. Daylight was breaking. Belinda lifted her head from where she leaned against the window in a half sleep.
“The doctor wanted to check on your friend,” Amanda said. “I came along in case you wanted respite yourselves.”
Hayden glanced at Eloise, who slept soundly.
“I’ll stay with her,” Amanda said.
Hayden took Belinda’s hand. “Yes, I do think we would like some respite. Thank you.”
They left Dr. Truman with his stethoscope and thermometer. Amanda slid into the bench they vacated.
“Where are we going?” Belinda asked.
Hayden pulled her through the rear door of the car, and they stood on the platform above the joining of the cars. “I can’t wait any longer.”
He enfolded her in his arms, and as she tilted her face up, he lightly traced the line of her jaw with one finger and then drifted over the curve of her chin to the fullness of her lips. Around them the wintry morning brightened, but Hayden felt none of its chill, only the warmth of Belinda in his arms. When he finally bent his head to meet her waiting mouth, the heat of her sigh blew across his face. She had yearned for this moment as much as he had.
While not unwilling to shovel snow again, Hayden was relieved to hear the news that passengers were no longer needed in the effort. As the day progressed, the work train chugged closer every hour with its well-equipped crew throwing snow off the tracks. Hayden sat warm and dry in the sleeper beside Belinda for much of the day. Eloise moved back and forth, sitting snugly between them at times and climbing into Mrs. Stromberg’s berth at others. Amanda and Ellsworth joined them for the day as well, leaving the Truman family their space. Dr. Truman came by every few hours and nodded in satisfaction at the patient’s progress. Even Virginia stayed close. The day passed in rounds of chatter punctuated by reminders to keep their voices down so Mrs. Stromberg could rest, though she persistently announced that she felt much better and saw no reason to stay in bed. Around them other travelers were equally buoyed by the expectation of rescue at any moment. When suppertime came, they passed around Mrs. Stromberg’s cookie tin, the last of the food that remained among their band of travelers.
Darkness fell. At the last sliver of sun sliding below the horizon, Hayden let his eyes rest on each of the people in their little cluster, all of whom he hadn’t known three days earlier except Belinda. Stillness eased across them, the earlier cheer fading.
Amanda’s hushed, silky voice broke the silence. “It’s Christmas Eve. If you were home, where would you be tonight?”
Hayden and Belinda looked at each other.
“I suppose we would have gone to church,” Belinda said. “My mother loves the music of Christmas.”
“A late service?” Amanda asked.
Belinda nodded. “I love coming out of church at midnight and it’s Christmas!”
“We would have spent the whole evening with Belinda’s parents,” Hayden said, “celebrating our engagement.”
“Engagement!” Amanda smiled broadly. “My dears, how lovely for you!”
“I knew it,” Mrs. Stromberg said. “As soon as I saw how miffed Belinda was with Hayden on that first day, I knew it! A woman only fumes that hot toward a man she loves.”
“Uncle,” Eloise said, “do you love Miss Michaels back?”
He grinned. “I do.”
“Can I sing for you now?” She crossed the aisle to his lap.
“Yes. I wish you would.”
“I’ll sing the song Papa was teaching me.” She cleared her throat. “Hark! The herald angels sing, ‘Glory to the newborn King!’ ”
The clarity of the child’s voice stunned Hayden, and he saw equal surprise on the faces of his companions. Her pitch was as perfect as any he had ever heard. By the time she finished the first stanza, he was breathless.
Eloise took a deep breath and began the second stanza. “Christ, by highest heav’n adored, Christ, the everlasting Lord.”
Hayden couldn’t hold back his own voice now. “Late in time behold Him come, offspring of the virgin’s womb.”
One by one the others began to sing. Belinda’s glossy alto, Mrs. Stromberg’s warbling soprano, Virginia’s timid contribution, the Barrows’ heartfelt harmonies.
At the beginning of the third stanza, the sound of a violin soared above them. “Hail the heav’n-born Prince of Peace! Hail the Su
n of Righteousness. Light and life to all He brings, ris’n with healing in His wings.”
Hayden dropped out to listen to the exquisiteness of it all.
“Hark! The herald angels sing, ‘Glory to the newborn King.’ ”
While the strains cascaded from their soaring spirits, Belinda made up her mind. This Christmas was very different from anything she had imagined. Instead of celebrating in her childhood home by a roaring fire, she sat in a drafty train carriage stuck in snow. Instead of parties with friends, she found warmth in a huddle of strangers. Instead of the new dresses she had saved for the joyous announcements of her engagement, she wore the same traveling suit for the fourth day in a row. Instead of a bounty of holiday recipes, she had feasted on bread and jam for breakfast and shortbread cookies for supper.
And she wouldn’t change a moment or detail.
“Hayden,” she said, “would you hand me my bag, please?”
Eloise slid off his lap. Hayden stood, took the bag from the shelf, and handed it down. Belinda unfastened the latch and reached in.
“Eloise, this is for you.”
Wide brown orbs stared back at Belinda as she put the bundle of tissue paper in the girl’s hands.
“A present!” Eloise said. She looked at Hayden. “Uncle, should I open it now?”
“I think that would please Miss Michaels very much,” he said.
“Yes, it would.” Belinda looked up to catch Hayden’s eye.
Eloise laid the package carefully in her lap and began unwrapping it. Belinda watched as the small glass bottle emerged.
The child sucked in her breath. “Is it perfume?”
“Take the stopper out,” Belinda said.
Eloise’s motion released the sweet fragrance of roses into the air.
Belinda dampened a finger with the mixture and rubbed it onto Eloise’s neck. “What do you smell?”
“Flowers!”
“Is that rose water?” Mrs. Stromberg asked.
Eloise crossed the aisle and put the vial under the old woman’s nose. “It smells just like you do.”
Mrs. Stromberg nodded. “I got my first bottle of rose water when I wasn’t much older than you are. Do you know why my mother gave me rose water?”