A Convenient Christmas Wedding

by Regina Scott

  Levi came jogging up behind them. “Did it work?”

  Simon stared at him. “You made that howl?”

  Levi preened. “Scout and I mastered the wolf howl when Rina first arrived here. We gave her a bit of trouble before James figured it out. I thought if it could scare a schoolteacher, it could scare a cow.”

  It certainly had. They followed Britta’s trail by hoofprints in the mud. Nora was just thankful the cow had kept to the road. At least that way she was heading toward Wallin Landing.

  They reached the clearing to find that Britta had stemmed her headlong flight just short of the schoolhouse and was taking her solace by munching on the winter grass there. As Beth went to return her father’s rifle to its place on the back porch, Mrs. Wallin came out, first hugging and then scolding her daughter. Nora could see Catherine and Rina peering out the windows as well. It seemed Nora had worried them all.

  Even Simon.

  “What were you thinking?” he asked her.

  Now that they were all safe, he sounded more perplexed than angry. She had to make him understand. All her life, her father and Charles had questioned her decisions, made her feel small, stupid. She truly did know what she was doing.

  “Britta is a fine cow,” she told Simon. “Her previous owner, Mr. Paul, said she gave four gallons of milk a day before her injury. I saw a chance to help her and your family at the same time, so I agreed to purchase her.”

  “She gave that much milk before her injury,” Simon pointed out, looking at the grazing cow. “She may not give at all now. And if she does, she’ll have to be bred to keep up production. Besides, she’ll eat the food we gathered for the oxen and James’s horses.”

  She’d wondered about that when Beth had first suggested more animals, but the thought had escaped her head when she’d heard Britta’s life threatened.

  “She seems to like grass,” she suggested.

  “What little is left for the winter.” He waved a hand. “But none of that matters at the moment. Do you know how we all felt when we found you and Beth missing? You persist in doing things that could leave you hurt or worse.”

  Nora swallowed. “I didn’t mean to do anything dangerous. Is it truly so bad out here, so long as I stay away from your logging?”

  He ran a hand back through his hair. “Yes! We had trouble from a cougar earlier this summer. Trees fall. Ground gives way from the rain. There are rough men in those woods. I can’t protect you every minute, Nora. You have to think before acting. Maybe it didn’t matter when you were living in town, but out here, every moment matters. I can’t lose you too.”

  Too? Did he mean his father or was there someone else? She was about to ask when Britta raised her head and began ambling toward the barn as if recognizing it as home now. Simon followed.

  Nora could only frown after them. Once again, it seemed she’d frightened Simon. She’d understood his concern about the logging. She’d seen the size of that tree as it had veered toward her. If she hadn’t been working so hard to keep Britta moving, she might have seen more dangers in the forest as well. Either way, it seemed he truly was worried about her.

  Did all that mean Simon was coming to care for her?

  * * *

  Simon opened the barn door, as much to keep anyone from noticing that his hands were shaking as to make room for the cumbersome cow. Once again, Nora seemed to have no idea of the trouble she might have caused herself. She followed them into the barn now to stand next to the quivering beast, stroking its pale hide and crooning comfort, while he took the lantern from her and hung it from the rafter.

  What was he going to do with her? Through the years, he’d watched Drew go to impossible lengths to keep them all safe. Was this what he’d felt—this fear, this terror? Simon didn’t know whether to hug Nora close or lock her in the cabin for safekeeping.

  As if she guessed his inner turmoil, she lay a hand on his arm as he passed.

  “I’m very sorry for the trouble, Simon. If you tell me what I should do for Britta, I’ll take care of her.”

  He could think of several things to do with the cow, all of which involved deadly weapons. And Britta, Nora had called her. Who named their animals? Well, except for James and his horses. Simon agreed with Drew: creatures on a farm served a purpose—work or food or protection. He didn’t name his saw or each head of corn in the field. Britta would be their first and likely only cow. Why not simply call her the cow?

  But Levi was right—extra milk could come in handy, if they could figure out how to keep the cow mobile.

  For now, he put both the goats into a single stall and nudged Britta into the empty one. The oxen chuffed a welcome, their dark eyes glittering in the light. The cow trotted onto the straw with a grateful sigh. He could see that her udder was hanging heavily beneath her. He couldn’t help a sigh of his own.

  “What’s wrong?” Nora asked, her arms resting on the edge of the stall, her face puckered.

  Simon squared his shoulders. “She needs to be milked. I don’t suppose you’ve ever done that before.”

  Nora shook her head. “Never. But I can learn.”

  He had to admire that about her. Ma and even Beth occasionally shied away from some of the more difficult tasks around the farm. Milking wasn’t so much difficult as time-consuming, and he didn’t want to add to his mother’s and sister’s chores. He looked around and spotted the stool Beth used to milk the goats, along with the bucket, scrubbed clean from earlier use. Bringing them over, he set them next to Britta and motioned Nora to take a seat.

  “We used to have a cow in Wisconsin before we came West,” he told her, moving around behind her. “The first thing you need to do is help her udder relax. Watch me.”

  He knelt and reached around Nora to run his hand over the heavy udder, the heat of it warming his fingers. “See? You try.”

  “That’s a good girl, Britta,” Nora said, stroking the udder. “I’m very sorry if I was so hard on you trying to get you home, but see what a nice place Simon has made for you?”

  He was not going to take pride in doing as simple a job as this. “Right. Now, wrap your thumb and forefinger about there.”

  “Like this?” Nora asked.

  Britta let out a bawl and kicked over the bucket. Nora jerked back.

  “It’s all right,” Simon said, more to Nora than the cow. He righted the bucket. “You have to be gentle. Try again.”

  More hesitantly this time, Nora reached out.

  “That’s right,” Simon encouraged her. “Now squeeze. You don’t have to pull down. Gravity will do the work for you.”

  She must have squeezed, for a thin stream of milk shot into the bucket.

  “I did it!” Nora turned her head and beamed at Simon, and for a moment, all he could do was lose himself in the soft gray of her eyes.

  Then Britta shifted, and Simon jerked upright. Why was his pulse pounding now? Nora was safe.

  “Good work,” he said, stepping back. “Keep going for a while, then I’ll spell you.”

  Nora bent over the bucket, the milk shooting down in spurts that echoed in the still barn. “I think I can do it. You go eat dinner.”

  He was not about to leave her alone. Not at the moment. “Your hands may get tired the first time,” Simon temporized, leaning back against the wall.

  She shot him a smile. “You forget. I’m a seamstress. I’m used to working with my hands.”

  There was that. She would likely be fine. He ought to go inside, explain what had happened, talk to John about the cow. Maybe his brother could come up with some kind of splint that allowed the beast to move more easily. He’d created crutches for Levi this summer when their youngest brother had broken his leg, after all.

  But there was something about watching Nora, her hands moving more surely with each stroke, her gentle voice
encouraging the cow. With the animals huddled around, it was warm in the barn, and the lantern light reflected off Nora’s dark hair. Simon drew in a deep breath, feeling as if a knot in his shoulders had finally loosened.

  “I need you to promise me something,” he said.

  She nodded as she worked. “Of course, Simon.”

  “If you leave the cabin, tell someone where you’re going,” he said. “Take one of us who can shoot with you if you’re going into the woods, and never stay out after dark.”

  That shot of milk sounded more forceful than the last. “Yes, of course, Simon. Only...”

  “Only?” he challenged.

  She glanced up at him, and he was surprised to see frustration looking back at him. “Only, I’m not a child, and I’m not mentally deficient.”

  Simon stiffened. “Of course you’re not mentally deficient or a child, Nora. Forgive me if I ever gave you the impression that I consider you such.”

  In the lantern’s light, he could see the red darkening her cheeks before she turned back to her milking. “Well, it wasn’t you, precisely. My brother and father always seemed to think I wasn’t very bright.”

  Something burned inside him. “They were mistaken. Inexperience and lack of intelligence are two different things. I’m the one who should apologize. I have to remember you aren’t used to life out here. I’ll do better about explaining the dangers.”

  “And I’ll do better about thinking ahead.” She stopped and eyed the bucket, then glanced up at him. “See? Milk!”

  He chuckled at the foamy white in the bucket. “Milk. Congratulations. Let me finish the milking this time. But you’ll need to get up with me in the morning and come out here and do this again.”

  Nora scrambled off the stool, her eyes widening. “That early?”

  “About every twelve hours,” Simon told her, straddling the stool. He bent to finish the job.

  Nora hummed to herself, moving about the stall, and after a moment he realized she was tidying the straw. He hid a smile. She simply could not sit idle.

  But the cow required more than milking. Already the beast was eating part of the grain he’d reserved for the goats this winter. The pastures were close to being overgrazed by the other animals as it was. Yet Nora, Beth and Levi seemed entranced by the idea of having a cow.

  Why was he the only one who saw the potential problems? Why did it always fall to him to point out the obvious?

  Perhaps this time he should just let everyone find out for themselves. Perhaps he was wrong and the cow—Britta—would work out fine.

  More concerning was Nora. He hadn’t expected to feel this fierce protectiveness toward her. Was it only because he’d been the one to let her live out here? Her brother had warned him that she would be out of her element.

  At the moment, he was the one who felt out of his element. And he didn’t know what to do about it.

  Chapter Eleven

  Nora got up so early the next morning, she was certain she heard the sun snoring somewhere beyond the mountains. Simon lit a lantern so she could find her way about the cabin and out to the barn. He even stayed a few minutes, watching her milk. When he laid a hand on her shoulder and told her she was doing a fine job, something inside her swelled. The smile they shared before he left made the walk back to the cabin in the chilly air seem as warm and comfortable as the barn.

  She had expected to find him gone, heading out to work on the new property, but when she entered the cabin, he was standing in front of the mirror, knotting his tie. Once more he wore the brown suit from their wedding, and his reflection revealed a white shirt and striped waistcoat. Nora paused on the threshold, just gazing at him a moment.

  When he turned to face her, she hurried inside and closed the door. Goodness, but what would he think if he’d known she’d been admiring the breadth of his shoulders, the length of his legs, the way the lantern light gilded his hair? He’d think her positively moony!

  Instead, she offered him a bright smile. “Are we going somewhere today?”

  He shook his head. “No. It’s Sunday. Pa always insisted that we wear our best clothes and spend the day in more quiet pursuits. We’ll have to feed the stock and cook, of course. But we will all worship at the house shortly.”

  “Oh, I...” She glanced up at the loft. “I’d love to wear my best dress, but I can’t climb the ladder in it.”

  “I’ll help you,” he said, and he didn’t even sound annoyed. In fact, if she hadn’t known better, she would have thought he sounded positively eager.

  She scurried up the ladder, pleased with how easy the task had become, and went to her trunk, which John had hauled up for her earlier in the week. “Do you need anything from up here?” she called down to Simon.

  “I’m fine, thanks,” he replied.

  She pulled out the lavender dress she’d worn to Maddie’s wedding and laid it on the pallet, smoothing out the creases. “Your trunk is much nicer than mine,” she told him as she worked the buttons on her day dress. “Where did you get it?”

  “Pa made it.” His voice sounded subdued. “He carved one for each of his older sons around our twelfth birthdays. After he was gone, Drew carved one for John, Levi and Beth.”

  She went over, traced the horns on the proud stag. How nice to have a father so dedicated to his children, so willing to work on their behalf. Her father had worked hard to build his accounting practice, employing more than a dozen men at one time. Many had been drafted into the war effort, leaving only a few for Charles to lead. But she couldn’t remember her father ever going out of his way to do something for her.

  “He sounds like a fine man,” she said, pulling off the day dress.

  “He was.” Simon’s voice floated up through the floorboards.

  “How did he die?”

  He was quiet a moment, and she wanted to call back the question. She shouldn’t push him to share his past, his thoughts.

  “He took Drew, James and me out logging with him,” he said, his voice no more than a murmur she had to strain to hear. “None of us saw the widow-maker before the branch fell and killed him.”

  Reaching for the lavender dress, her fingers clenched in the fabric. That must have been what he’d referred to last night when he’d mentioned losing someone else. Small wonder the falling tree had made him react so strongly. “Oh, Simon,” she murmured. “I’m so sorry.”

  “We all were,” he said. “Pa asked Drew to lead the family, a task he’s taken seriously over the years. All my brother could think about was making sure we all survived to adulthood. We had to give him every possible incentive before he’d even consider courting Catherine.”

  At least he was beginning to sound like his usual self again. She should encourage that. “What did you do?” Nora asked, slipping the heavy dress over her head.

  She could hear the smile in his voice. “I tricked him into reading The Courtship of Miles Standish to her, with him taking John Alden’s part.”

  Nora smiled as well as she settled the gown about her. She’d read her father’s copy of the famous poem and knew the story of the lovers. Miles Standish had asked his good friend John Alden to plead his case to the fair Priscilla Mullins, only it turned out that Priscilla preferred John.

  “The best part,” Simon continued, “was when Catherine read her lines. She actually said, Speak for yourself, Drew. I think that slip ultimately convinced him to try.”

  Could it be that easy? If she said, Speak for yourself, Simon, would he declare his love for her? Would he take her in his arms, give her a true kiss, one that made her knees weak?

  It was a lovely thought, one in which she could happily lose herself, but she knew it for the fable it was.

  “Ready yet?” Simon called up.

  “One more moment,” Nora promised, finishing the buttons in
a rush. Then she hurried to the opening in the loft and peered down. Simon was waiting at the bottom of the ladder, his head tilted back to meet her gaze. She knew he’d never let her fall, but something made her hesitate.

  Simon pulled himself up the first two rungs and braced his feet. “All right. Come on down.”

  Swallowing, Nora turned and did as he bid. She felt his body come up behind her and pace her down the ladder, his arms bracketing her safely, offering strength on which she could lean. It was the most singular sensation, and one that left her breathless.

  “I need to fix my hair,” she said, dashing to the mirror. With her back turned to him, she closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. When she opened her eyes, she found him watching her, and her cheeks heated.

  She dropped her gaze, seized her hairbrush and yanked it through her thick tresses. How nice it would have been to have silky hair like Rina or golden curls like Beth. Sometimes she thought hers was as unruly as straw. She could see a frown gathering on his handsome face, as if he agreed.

  “Here,” he said, coming up behind her. “Let me.”

  Stunned, Nora let the hairbrush fall from her fingers into his outstretched hand. He ran the bristles gently over her hair, his hand skimming the dark strands.

  “It’s terribly coarse,” she couldn’t help saying in apology. “I can’t do a thing with it.”

  “It’s thick and clean and healthy,” he countered. “And it likely keeps you warmer than most.”

  As compliments went, it wasn’t at all flowery. But it was honest and true. Perhaps that was why it made her smile. She accepted the brush back from him and finished binding up her hair behind her head. A moment later, and he was slipping her cloak around her shoulders, his fingers brushing the skin at the nape of her neck. She shivered.

  He frowned, stepping back. “Is that dress warm enough?”

  She was warm enough. In fact, she thought she might ignite like tinder from a spark if he looked at her one more moment. “Fine,” she said cheerfully. “Shall we go?”

  He pulled his violin case from its place below the sideboard and led her out the door.