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

  Tom smiled at his wife, and Suzette felt a stab of envy. The love they had for each other was transparent and strong. She’d put that aside for so long.

  Had she done that only because her family, and Harrison’s, had presumed that they’d marry? She had to acknowledge that she was stubborn and, honestly, self-centered.

  “So do you think that Hope is the place for you? Maybe being a shopkeeper—”

  Tom’s words were interrupted by a wail from Annylee. The sun had moved so it was directly in her eyes, and she blinked and swatted at her face as if she could bat it away.

  “I think I’d better take Annylee and attend to her,” Winnie said, as Tom picked up their daughter. “She may be my everything, but she’s my hungry everything.”

  “I’d better help her,” Tom said. “Why don’t you show Harrison around the farm while we tend to Annylee?”

  “I’d like that.” Harrison turned to Suzette. “Would you mind?”

  “Not at all. After that dinner, a walk sounds lovely.”

  She waited until Tom and Winnie were inside, and then she swooped her arm toward her surroundings. “There’s the barn, and the garden, and the fields. Where should we go?”

  “Let’s head over there.” He indicated a line of saplings. “I gather that’ll be their tree line?”

  “One day it’ll be a shelterbelt, and as fast as cottonwoods grow, it shouldn’t be long.”

  “Look at this,” he said to her, indicating the span of sky and land. “It reminds me of the Psalm, ‘Thy mercy, O Lord, is in the heavens; and thy faithfulness reacheth unto the clouds.’ ”

  It did describe the land perfectly. God was everywhere here, from the clouds in the sky to the blades of grass beneath their feet.

  As they strolled toward the neat line of trees, she said to him, “You didn’t answer Tom’s question.”

  “I didn’t? Which one?”

  “The one he didn’t quite finish. You said you don’t want to be a bookkeeper forever, but do you think keeping a store is better?”

  “Better?” He frowned. “Maybe. I don’t know that shopkeeping is better than book-keeping, but I had to try. Here’s what happened, Suzette. You announced you were coming out here, and I have to say that shook me out of my rut. I knew I had to do something like that. I saw the ad for the store in the St. Paul newspaper, and I answered it.”

  “You bought the store. You didn’t rent it or lease it. You bought it. That’s quite an investment for an adventure.”

  He chuckled. “I may have acted somewhat precipitously, indeed.”

  “I thought my parents had sent you out here to keep an eye on me, but they didn’t, did they?”

  “No, in fact they were diametrically opposed to it. They told me that if I came out here and settled in, you wouldn’t leave either.”

  She stopped and took his arm. “Because they thought we would get married.”

  Crimson crept up his neck. “Suzette, let’s be honest with each other. Our parents have conspired our marriage since we were in our cradles. It was one more thing that I felt I had no choice in, like working in my father’s business. I like you, and I do love you as a friend. But marriage? Wouldn’t it be better if we were in love, like Tom and Winnie? And we aren’t. At least, I’m not.”

  He could have smacked her and she wouldn’t have been more surprised. And, frankly, her ego was shattered. He didn’t want to marry her?

  “So if I went back to St. Paul tomorrow, you wouldn’t care?”

  He paused. That pause alone stole all the breath from her.

  After a moment that seemed to stretch into eternity, he said, “We’re friends. I think that there isn’t a good marriage that isn’t based in equally good friendship. I’d like to be your friend. Not just an acquaintance that you’ve grown up with, but more than that. I know you’ve rejected me. But would you—could you—consider letting our friendship grow?”

  His eyes met hers. They were kind eyes, and she was astonished that she’d never really noticed it before.

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  “And then,” he continued, “if we both agree, I could begin courting you.”

  “Courting,” she said softly.

  “You deserve that. I deserve that.” He swallowed. “We both need to go through that if we’re to be married—and note that I said ‘if.’ ”

  “You don’t want to marry me.” The sentence came out brokenly.

  “Suzette, it’s not that I don’t want to marry you. It’s not that at all. I just don’t believe that we’re ready to even consider it. And,” he added almost sadly, “I wonder if we hadn’t been pushed so hard, we might have come to it on our own. It has to be our decision though.”

  “All right,” she said. “All right.”

  The world spun around her. The tiny trees, their summer-sprouted leaves rustling in the breeze, seemed to be saying something to her that she couldn’t understand.

  He smiled. “And if the time comes when we decide that we are ready, we’ll be prepared for it. Or maybe we’ll determine that our families were wrong, that we’re not meant to spend our lives as husband and wife. Whatever we learn, we’ll know that it’s the right thing.”

  “I’ve never heard you speak so clearly,” she said. “I have to say that I like it.”

  “Then we’ve taken our first step together. We must agree to be forthright with each other. If the day comes when you realize I’m not the man for you, maybe because you’ve found someone else who fills your heart with joy, you must promise that you’ll let me know.”

  She looked down at her hand, still on his sleeve. She’d never considered another man. How could she when they had been placed on the same road, based on an understanding a generation removed?

  “I promise. But you must pledge the same promise to me.” She fought back tears. Why was this so difficult, imagining the day that he might tell her that he had no love for her? Just two weeks ago, she had been glad to be away from him.

  He took a deep breath. “I can smell winter in the air. Will you still be here?”

  “I—I don’t know.” Freedom had never been so horrible.

  “You told your parents that you might be back. ‘Christmas, maybe,’ was what you said.”

  That day seemed like a century ago. “I’m not sure what will become of me. I’m here to help Winnie and Tom, but at some point, her leg and her arm will be healed, and—Harrison, I just don’t know.”

  The sun’s glow dimmed. Dusk set in quickly on the prairie, and the bright afternoon gave way to twilight.

  “You need to go back,” she said reluctantly, “or else you’ll be traveling to Hope in the dark.”

  “That’s true.”

  They returned to the house, their footsteps slow, and neither of them spoke.

  After he’d thanked them for the dinner, she followed him to the wagon.

  “I’m riding Whirlwind tomorrow,” she said, mainly because she had nothing else to say.

  “Whirlwind?”

  “Their horse.”

  “Do you mind if I come and watch?” he asked, a smile crinkling his face.

  “I should warn you. I’ve never ridden a horse before.”

  “Then I’ll definitely be here.”

  He climbed into the wagon, and she watched him go until he and the wagon became a tiny speck on the horizon that faded into the prairie.

  He sat in his room above the store and ruminated over the events of the day. Where had this new, strong Harrison come from? Had he been buried all these years?

  A full moon shown through the small window. It was the same moon that had shown over him in St. Paul. Why was it brighter here? It was almost white. Next month would be the harvest moon, when the orb would be larger and shine clearer than any other time during the year.

  Maybe that was what it was. He’d heard that the full moon made people crazy. That would explain why he’d done what he’d done and why he’d said what he’d said to Suzette.

  He l
eaned back. What a day this had been!

  It was all Suzette. He’d known for a long time that he had special feelings for her. Was it love, though? Was she meant to be his wife?

  He put his hands over his eyes. What did God want him to do? Now that he was free to follow His will, what should be his path?

  Please guide me, he prayed. Let me know if this is right.

  How would he know if this was right?

  So many questions, and none of them had answers.

  He opened his Bible, intending to continue his reading of the Word in a book by book, chapter by chapter method, but instead he turned to 1 Corinthians 15:10: But by the grace of God I am what I am….

  It tied in nicely with what he had read the night he had decided to leave. God had plans for him. And I am what I am meant that God’s design for Harrison Farrington was based on how He had created him.

  But Suzette … Did he know who she was?

  He had promised her that if he decided that he couldn’t love her, he’d tell her.

  It would never happen.

  It had already happened. Long ago it had happened.

  He loved Suzette, and nothing could ever change that.

  She lay in the living room, willing sleep to come, but it was elusive.

  What on earth had happened? She felt as if she were living someone else’s life. This wasn’t possible. How could she be so smitten with Harrison?

  She considered the idea that their parents’ scheme for them had backfired, and they’d ended up smothering whatever love there could be. Perhaps here, away from them, away from the closely built city of St. Paul, where their families were so intertwined that all individuality had been lost, they could start again.

  Maybe she’d always loved him, but she had, to use his word, rejected him and the love. She was headstrong, that was true. One time her father had, in a pique of exasperation, told her that she’d argue her own name, given the chance.

  But did she love him? For all these years, the answer had been no. Since she’d left her home, she’d missed him, his constancy, his presence.

  The other aspect she had to consider was that she found him attractive only because she didn’t have him. If he had come to her today swearing his love and begging her to marry him, she very well might have scoffed at him.

  Moonlight crept around the edges of the curtain, and the stack of blankets she used as a bed was terribly uncomfortable.

  She arose and went to the window and looked out at the moon-bathed prairie. Some folks said that there was nothing here, but there was much here, almost too much.

  She laid her head against the window frame and sighed. If she weren’t so tired, she would do her evening prayers, but her mind refused to settle down and phrase a coherent prayer.

  Instead, the beloved Twenty-Third Psalm came to her. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul….

  That was it. This place, washed in moon glow, restored her soul. God was doing something in her heart. She could feel that.

  One star twinkled in the silvery sky. When she was a child, she wished on the first star of the evening.

  Tonight, though, she had deeper things to think about. If only she weren’t so tired, she might be able to focus on the day and put her feelings in order.

  She left the window and padded back to her pallet, and she finally fell asleep, praying wordlessly to the God who had created the prairie and the brilliant moon and the single glittering star.

  He knew that she was struggling. It was enough. It was all.

  Chapter 4

  Suzette’s mind wasn’t on her work. When she flung a carrot over her shoulder while weeding the garden, she knew she had to stop before she pulled up the entire plot.

  So she stood up, brushed the dirt from her hands and her knees, and went back inside to see what she could help Winnie with.

  It was clear what her old friend had been up to. The table was covered with the still partially made mother and daughter dresses, and Winnie was scowling at a needle she was trying to thread. “Either the hole has to be bigger or the thread smaller.”

  Suzette took the offending needle from her and expertly threaded it. “The trick is to keep them very close together as you thread it. And not to shake.” She grinned at Winnie. “And don’t try to do this with a broken arm.”

  “Ah.” Winnie smiled as she took the now-threaded needle from Suzette.

  “I need something to do in here,” Suzette declared. “I’m about ready to crawl out of my skin, I’m so excited.”

  “Suzette Longmont, cowgirl. Who’d have thought it? Do you have your cowgirl hat and your cowgirl chaps?”

  “I have an old straw hat I found in the barn but no chaps.”

  “Well, don’t expect much from Whirlwind. He’s a secondhand horse to begin with, and he’s rather ancient.”

  She needed something to occupy her while she waited for Tom to return, and she decided to tackle the window that didn’t quite shut right.

  After a quick trip to the barn where the tools were kept, she had the window taken apart. That was the easy part. Putting it back together again proved to be more of a challenge. “How can it be that things which fit in place once will never do it again?” she grumbled, trying to wedge the sash back into place.

  “Maybe that’s why it’s like that,” Winnie said. “Maybe it was the wrong size to begin with.”

  “Quit being so sensible.” She sat back on her heels and examined the board. “I think it’s too big. That’s the problem. All I have to do is cut it down.”

  “Please shave outside. I just got Annylee down for a nap.”

  Suzette took the board to the yard. She needed a saw. Back to the barn she went, and the only saw she found was nearly half her size. It would have to do.

  Finally, she gave up. There was no way she could manage the saw to cut something as small as this. Sweaty and covered with wood shavings, she wiped her forehead with her hand.

  “You know what they say—the proper tool for the job.” Harrison spoke behind her, and she jumped.

  Painfully aware of the fact that she was wet with perspiration and covered with little pieces of wood, she stood up. “Harrison, I didn’t hear you.” She tried to blot her face as unobtrusively as she could, but she knew it was hopeless.

  “You were busy sawing. What are you doing, by the way?”

  “I’m trying to fix the window. The bottom sash never set right, so it doesn’t seal.”

  A grin played across his face. “So you were fixing it. When did you learn that?”

  “I didn’t,” she admitted sheepishly. “But it looked so easy.”

  “Let’s go in and take a look.” He helped her to her feet.

  Inside, he said hello to Winnie and looked at the still-slumbering Annylee, and then he held the piece of wood to the frame. “About half an inch is all you need to remove, I’d say. Do you have a rasp?”

  “A rasp. Maybe. What’s a rasp?”

  Winnie cleared her throat. “It’s in the toolbox, there on the floor.”

  Within minutes, he had the board sized correctly. “When Annylee wakes up, I’ll hammer it into place.”

  “Thank you,” she said begrudgingly. She had wanted to do it herself. “How did you know that?”

  He laughed. “I don’t lay claim to being a handyman by any stretch of the imagination, but if there’s more I can help with, I’d be glad to. What I don’t know, I can find out. There’s a book at the store that I found tucked behind the counter that tells how to do all kinds of things, from butchering a hog to making soap to putting a roof on a house.”

  “We don’t have any hogs,” Winnie contributed from the table, where she’d paused in her sewing, “and I buy soap, and the house came with a roof. But the door could use some balancing, and there’s some uneven boards in the back room. I’m well acquainted with them, since that’s how I fell. I tripped over them one night.”

  “Let me
do what I can. I know that Tom is busy in the fields.”

  “What’s this about Tom?” Her cousin spoke from the doorway as he came in and dropped a kiss on Winnie’s forehead. “I can tell you this: Tom is tired. The wind is changing, and it feels like the temperature is about to drop. Summer is over.”

  Annylee stirred at the sound of her father’s voice, and he picked her up and held her tightly.

  “An older gentleman came into the store this morning and said his hip was telling him that a cold spell is coming in,” Harrison said.

  Suzette breathed in sharply. Cold? Already?

  “Well, it is October. Sometimes the first snow comes this early,” Winnie said.

  “Let me help you, then,” Harrison said. “I can do some repairs here, and if you need assistance in the harvest, I’d be glad to do what I can.”

  “There isn’t much to bring in,” Tom said, his voice filled with despair. “And thank you for your offer, but—”

  “But we’d be glad to accept,” Winnie interrupted. When Tom tried to disagree, she shook her head. “It’s not just you and me anymore, Tom. We have Annylee, and she deserves a warm home. It was different when it was just us, bravely pioneering on, but now we have to think of her.”

  He sagged into a chair, still cradling his daughter. “You’re right.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with getting some help. I’ve never done any of this, but I’m always ready to learn.” Harrison faced Suzette. “The two of us will pitch in and do what needs to be done. Right, Suzette?”

  “Absolutely!”

  “Before you get too caught up in this, I have a letter for you, Suzette. I suspect it’s from your parents.” Tom reached in his pocket and pulled out a white rectangle. “I forgot to give it to you yesterday.”

  “How can you forget a letter?” Winnie chided. “Honestly, Tom!”

  “No worry,” Suzette said, taking the envelope from him. She knew what it said. Come home. The longer she waited to read it, the more she could delay having to confront this.

  “Take a moment, Tom,” Harrison said, “and rest yourself. If it’s okay, I’ll unhitch both my horse and yours, and take Suzette for a ride.”