A Pioneer Christmas Collection

by Kathleen Fuller

  He turned his face to her. An unfamiliar but comforting warmth filled her as she met his caring, dark eyes. They held no judgment. Instead, they seemed to be full of understanding.

  “Why haven’t you married yet, Milly?”

  His question took her off guard. After a moment, she said, “I haven’t found the right man.” But she wanted to tell him so much more. How she couldn’t settle for what her aunt or father wanted. Her aunt especially didn’t seem to care who she wed, as long as Milly had a husband. But Milly wanted more. She wanted the love her parents had shared. She wanted to marry for love.

  And the only man she could imagine herself with—was him.

  Her cheeks heated, and not from the warmth of the fire. Then suddenly she remembered he was a guest. She should be seeing to his comfort, not indulging in her own imaginings. “Would you like something to drink? I could prepare a quick cup of tea or coffee.” She looked at him. “Or would you rather have a snack?”

  Elijah shook his head. “I’m fine. And even if I wasn’t, I wouldn’t want you to go to the trouble.”

  She popped up from the chair. “It’s no trouble—”

  He gestured for her to sit down. “Please. I don’t need anything to eat or drink.” He paused, looking up at her. “What I need…is a friend.”

  As Milly sat down, she willed her pulse to slow. A friend. She ran the words through her mind a couple of times. He needed a friend, not a silly girl with a crush.

  They both stared at the fire for a few moments. Finally, she spoke. “Do you mind if I ask you a question?”

  He nodded. “Considering I asked you something quite personal, please do. I hope you weren’t offended by my inquiry, by the way.”

  “Of course not.” She smiled. “I was the one who brought up the subject of matchmaking.”

  He angled himself toward her. “Good. I would never want to offend you, Milly.”

  The pull of attraction intensified inside her. She reminded herself that he’d asked for her friendship and folded her hands in her lap.

  “What is your question?” he asked.

  “Why are you not in Buffalo?” She glanced at her lap. “If I’m not being too nosy.”

  “You’re not.”

  “It’s just that I assumed you would be spending the holiday with your family.”

  He leaned back in the chair and let out a long sigh. “They made other plans.”

  “Without you?”

  “Yes.”

  There was no doubting his sour tone. “I didn’t realize your business in Cleveland was so important.”

  “I don’t have business in Cleveland.”

  Her brow lifted. “But—”

  “Why do I travel back and forth from Buffalo to Cleveland several times a year?” His chin dipped. “Because I’m a coward.”

  Milly scoffed. “You are not.”

  “I am.” He looked directly at her, his eyes haunted. “I’m Jonah, Milly. I’m ignoring God’s instructions. His direction.” He shook his head. “I’m just as cowardly as he was.”

  She frowned. Why would he make such a negative, and surely untrue, statement? “I don’t understand.”

  He rubbed the back of his neck and turned to the fire again. “Ever since I can remember, my parents told me I was going to be a preacher. When I turned sixteen, my father said I was called to go to the western territories and preach the Gospel. ‘You will be on a great commission,’ he would say. ‘Like the prophets of old.’ My mother believed it, too.”

  Milly leaned forward in her chair. “Do you?”

  He rubbed the palms of his hands on his thighs. “I want to. My father is a preacher. My grandfather, too. My great-great grandfather left England for the chance to practice his faith here. It’s not just a calling; it’s my legacy.”

  “Yet you’re not sure.”

  Elijah let out a brittle laugh. “I’m an awful preacher, Milly. I’m not like my father. He always says the right thing in the pulpit. He’s strong in his convictions. Strong in his faith.”

  Milly’s heart went out to him. She could see he had wrestled with this for a long while. “Have you ever thought your father could be wrong?”

  “My father is never wrong.”

  “He can’t be perfect. None of us are.”

  “He’s close. And what he says makes sense—we cannot have a spirit of fear. That’s scriptural. He says I’m afraid and that’s what’s holding me back.” His gaze held hers. “I’m terrified. That’s why I always come back. But this time, I have to go.”

  “Even if you have doubts?”

  “It doesn’t matter what I think. Or what I feel. They told me this time not to come back.” He stared at his upturned palms. “I don’t have a choice anymore.”

  “Elijah.” She looked at him. “There’s always a choice.” She shook her head. “Your father sounds like Aunt Louise. They are so sure about what’s right for our futures. Don’t we have a say in what we do?” And whom we’ll marry?

  He didn’t answer. Then he stood. “Mr. Menough said we’re leaving early in the morning.”

  It didn’t escape her that he had evaded her question. “Elijah—”

  “I imagine he’s eager to see his family in Cleveland for Christmas.” He glanced at her. “I should get some sleep.”

  Milly paused then nodded. She would respect his wish not to discuss the issue further. “I should retire as well.” She rose. “Father and I will have breakfast ready for you both in the morning.”

  He started toward the stairs. Then he stopped, hesitated, and touched her shoulder for a brief moment before pulling back. “Thank you for listening, Milly. I hope what I told you won’t lower your estimation of me. I…I couldn’t bear that.” Before she could answer, he hurried upstairs.

  She heard the door to his room click shut. Knowing he was in turmoil pained her. Nothing could lower her estimation of Elijah Montgomery. He’d been honest and vulnerable. If anything, she was drawn to him more than ever.

  And now she knew that not only was he setting out on a journey he feared, but he had to do it alone, and on Christmas of all days. No, not alone. She bowed her head and prayed for him.

  Chapter 4

  Milly rose early the next morning after only a few hours of sleep. She was bleary eyed, and her heart still carried Elijah’s burden. But it was more than that. Each time he left the tavern, she always knew he was coming back. Now she knew for certain he wasn’t.

  She put aside her despair, determined to make Elijah’s last breakfast at Unionville Tavern the best one he’d ever had. She had the biscuits cut and ready, the sausage sliced, and the eggs scrambled in a bowl by the time her father entered the kitchen. His eyes widened. “You’ve been busy.”

  “I had trouble sleeping, so I thought I’d get to work.”

  Her father yawned and nodded. “Good thing. Thought I heard our guests stirring about upstairs.”

  A short while later, Milly pulled the fluffy biscuits out of the oven. The eggs were cooked to perfection; the sausage still sizzled in the cast-iron skillet on top of the stove. She prepared two heaping plates and took them to the dining room.

  Elijah was crouched by the fireplace, stoking the fire in the hearth. “Needed more wood,” he said, tossing in another log. He stood. “Breakfast smells delicious.”

  His smile didn’t reach his eyes. Perhaps he was fighting the same thoughts as she, that this would be their last time together. More likely, he was worried about his trip west. He had more things to concern himself with than her. She internally chastised herself as she placed the plates on the table. “Where is Mr. Menough?”

  “Taking care of the horses. He will be here in a moment.” Elijah sat down at the table. “Thank you, Milly.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  He bowed his head in silent prayer. She joined him, praying for his safety not just on the trip to Cleveland but also as he headed to a new world. She’d never been farther west than Unionville. She never had occasion to be
and didn’t have a yearning for travel. Yet she’d heard from travelers passing through that the west was untamed country, filled with dangers from Indians, harsh weather, and more often than not, solitude. People had surrounded Milly all of her life. She couldn’t imagine leaving behind everything she knew and going out on her own.

  From his words last night, Elijah didn’t want to either. But he was being obedient to his parents and to God. At least she hoped he was right about his journey west being about God’s calling and not his parents pushing him to fulfill their own dreams.

  Just as they finished praying, Mr. Menough entered, his bulbous nose red from the chilled air outside. “Gonna be a cold trip, Mr. Montgomery.”

  Elijah nodded, glancing at Milly. “I believe it is,” he said, his voice filled with sadness.

  Mr. Menough sat down across from Elijah. Milly excused herself and went to the kitchen. She stood in front of the sink and tried to shove the sadness away.

  “Milly?” Her father came up beside her. “Something wrong?”

  “No.” She took a deep breath and turned to him, forcing a smile. “Everything is fine.”

  “Good.” He stepped away and scraped the sausage grease off the skillet. “Snow’s coming down pretty heavy. Once Montgomery leaves, I don’t think we’ll have any more guests. At least not for a while.”

  She swallowed the hard lump in her throat and nodded.

  An hour later, Milly approached Elijah, who stood near the front door of the tavern. Mr. Menough was already outside, seated at the top of the stagecoach and ready to go. Elijah tipped his hat at Milly, giving her a long gaze. Finally, he said, “I guess this is good-bye, then.”

  “Wait.” She gave him a square package wrapped in brown paper and tied with one of her light green hair ribbons. “I prepared a couple of sandwiches for you. In case you get hungry before you reach Cleveland.”

  Elijah smiled, accepting the package. “That is kind of you, Milly.” He stared at her one more time. “Good-bye, Milly,” he said before walking out the door.

  She touched the glass window as the stagecoach pulled away. The glass was as cold as her heart. “Good-bye, Elijah.”

  The stagecoach lurched as Elijah fingered Milly’s hair ribbon. A lump caught in his throat as he remembered the sadness in her eyes when he left the tavern. Had she been mourning their last few moments together? He shook his head. More likely she pitied him.

  He wished he hadn’t told her his secret. He’d asked her not to think less of him, but how could she not?

  He forced the thoughts out of his mind as the stagecoach slogged through the thick snow. He gripped the edge of his seat, partly from the bumpy ride, mostly from nerves. There was no looking back now. He had to put Milly out of his mind and heart forever and focus on the task ahead of him.

  The stagecoach lurched forward, along with his stomach. He’d expected a bumpy, slog of a ride through the snow. But not something that would make him nauseous—

  The stagecoach suddenly tipped on its side. Milly’s package flew out of his hands as he searched for purchase in the coach.

  “Whoa!” Menough shouted at the horses.

  Elijah reached for the door, his stomach dropping as the coach continued to fall on its side.

  “I said, ‘Whoa!’ ”

  Just as Elijah thought they would land sideways, the coach righted itself and dragged to a halt. He froze for a moment, catching his breath. What in the world had happened?

  He exited right away, landing in almost knee-deep snow. Visibility had worsened since they’d left the tavern. He looked up at the driver. “Mr. Menough? Sir, are you all right?”

  Menough’s chest heaved as he sat in the driver’s seat, his hands, encased in thick leather gloves, still gripping the reins. Large puffs of air mingled with thick wet snowflakes falling to the ground. “Yes sir,” he gasped. “I’m fine.” Then he let out a groan. “Can’t say the same for the coach.”

  Elijah turned and looked. Immediately he saw the problem—a broken axle. It was a miracle and a test of Menough’s strength that he had kept the horses under control. “Well done, Mr. Menough.”

  Menough wrapped the reins around the seat and jumped to the ground. He removed his hat and scratched his thick red hair. Snowfall surrounded them like a white curtain. “Thank you, Mr. Montgomery. I thought for certain we’d be lying in the snow by now. I’m thankful we’re all safe, including my horses.” He patted one of their flanks. He looked at the stagecoach and grimaced. “I’m not sure we can fix it right now. I have a few tools, but I don’t have the supplies to fix the axle. There’s a livery a few miles up the road. I can walk there—”

  “With the snow coming down the way it is, I wouldn’t want you to.” Elijah pulled out his pocket watch. “How far did we go?”

  “From the tavern? Not too far, I’m afraid.”

  “We should go back there then.”

  Menough put his hat back on. “I agree. I’m sorry for the inconvenience.”

  “Don’t worry about that.” Elijah hid his relief from the driver. Although he wouldn’t have wished a broken axle or any other kind of accident for Menough and his horses, it did give Elijah another night’s reprieve. He said a hasty prayer of thanks for that and their safety before saying to Menough, “This wasn’t your fault. Can I help you with the horses?”

  Menough nodded, and together they unhitched the two horses from their harness. Elijah brushed a bit of snow off one of the horse’s chestnut-colored noses. A pointless gesture, as fresh snow immediately replaced it.

  They guided the horses back toward Unionville, each man leading a horse and carrying a satchel. Elijah walked a few steps, only to stop. How could he have forgotten? “Mr. Menough? Wait one moment, please.” He handed the reins to Menough and hurried back to the stagecoach. He dashed inside, searched around, and spotted what he was looking for. He pocketed the sandwich packet Milly had given him. But it wasn’t the sandwich that was on his mind. It was her ribbon. He couldn’t leave that token behind.

  Chapter 5

  Milly laid out two pine boughs on the mantel over the fireplace in the dining room. She breathed in the pine scent. Her mother immediately came to mind. She remembered how Mother used to decorate the tavern with the fragrant boughs for Christmas each year. Milly couldn’t wait for the day she was old enough to help. She remembered the first time her mother had allowed her to arrange the pine boughs.

  Milly stood on a short ladder, placing a thick branch on the mantel.

  “Now Milly, make sure we can see the pine cones. They’re an important part of the branch, too.”

  “ Yes, Mother.” Milly reached up and made sure the fattest pinecone balanced on the edge of the polished wood. “How’s that?”

  “Lovely, dear one. Be careful as you climb down the ladder.”

  Milly stepped down and stood beside her mother. She felt Mother’s gentle arm wrap around her shoulder. Milly leaned against her, her cheek touching the soft fabric of her mother’s red apron, the one she wore only on Christmas.

  Milly’s mind came back to the present. She touched a sharp point on one of the pinecones. Now Christmas decorating always had a tinge of sadness, even amid the happiness of celebration.

  Her father came out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a stained linen towel. He stood next to Milly. “Smells like Christmas in here.”

  Milly nodded, her throat thick with bittersweet memories. She placed a small candle in the middle of the mantel. It was a fancy white one her mother had bought when Milly was a little girl. Like the red apron, it was used only at Christmas.

  Father took the candle, running his thumb over the dried wax drippings. “It’s nearly gone.”

  Milly caught the catch in his voice. She cleared her throat. “Perhaps I shouldn’t light it this year.”

  He shook his head. “Your mother wouldn’t want that.” He placed the candle back on the mantel and sighed. “I miss her most this time of year,” he whispered. He turned to Milly, giving he
r a half smile. She could see a trace of warmth in his eyes. “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For this.” He gestured to the decorations. “For being here.”

  She replied, “I’ll always be here for you, Father.”

  “As much as I would like that, it wouldn’t be fair to you. You deserve more than spending your life with your old father.”

  “Forty-five is hardly old.” Sure his brown hair had started graying at the temples over the past couple of years, but he still moved with the same energy he’d always had.

  He put his hand on her shoulder and patted it awkwardly. “That’s nice of you to say. But as much as I hate to agree with Louise about anything, she’s right about your future.”

  “My future is here.”

  “But not forever.” He sighed. “We’ve talked about this before. I don’t want you running the tavern by yourself. I’d sell it before I’d let that happen.”

  She crossed her arms. “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of this business. I’ve done it all my life.”

  “I’m not saying you’re incapable. But you know as well as I do—owning a business is not a woman’s place.”

  “Maybe I should buck the trend.”

  Her father chuckled. “If anyone could, it would be you.” His mirth faded. “You have to think about yourself—”

  “I am—”

  “Let me finish. I want you to be happy. And I know you enjoy working here. But we’re isolated at times.” He glanced away. “I’ve been lonely since your mother’s death.”

  She reached out to her father. Sadness filled his eyes. He often became melancholy during the holidays, but for some reason this seemed different. “I’m sorry.”

  He looked at her. “It’s okay. And I’ve realized it’s my lot in life, at least right now. But I don’t want you to live with that emptiness. This building”—he gestured at the dining room—“it isn’t a substitute for true companionship. People come and go, yet you rarely get to know them beyond polite conversation.”

  Milly thought about her talk with Elijah last night, and she had to admit her father was right. She and Elijah had moved past being polite and had revealed parts of their inner struggles to each other. And that brief conversation had meant more to her than all the small talk she’d engaged in with their guests over the years.