The Cowboy Takes a Wife
Page 15
Annie hurried inside. Hannah sat slump-shouldered halfway to the front, wilting beneath a woolen scarf and dabbing at her cheeks, cloistered by her family. Annie and her father found a bench a few rows back and soon learned the sad truth. Pastor Hartman took to the pulpit, announcing that the couple’s pending marriage the week after Christmas had been postponed indefinitely. His brother, Reverend Justice Hartman of Denver, had broken his leg in a buggy accident earlier in the month and word had just arrived that he dare not make the trip south to perform the ceremony.
In fact, he’d sent for Robert to officiate over Christmas festivities in Denver.
What arrogance. How dare the elder reverend presume upon his sibling and this fledgling community. Just because Justice Hartman’s congregation had a fine brick building with a bell tower didn’t mean he could drag Cañon City’s beloved pastor from his flock.
But apparently blood was thicker than water—especially at Christmas. No wedding before the New Year. And unless someone stepped forward, no Christmas Eve services for the town’s small congregation of merchants and miners and ranchers. The pastor’s tone made it clear that he had bowed to his brother’s wishes and would be leaving that very afternoon.
Annie nearly cried herself as she filed out with others after the service. This was not the Christmas she’d hoped for. Truth be told, she wasn’t sure what she had hoped for in the first place. There would be no traditional trimmings she’d grown up with, no Edna or Harriet, no festivities at all—other than what she cobbled together at the mercantile. And now, no Christmas Eve service with carol singing and warm wishes from friends and— Oh—it just wasn’t fair.
Her foot ached to stomp, and she held it to the wooden step and leaned her weight into it. She hadn’t even had the small pleasure of speaking with Caleb.
Was he worried over Nell?
Annie’s father spoke quietly in Pastor Hartman’s ear, and both men looked out toward the livery.
Of course.
She snugged her cloak tighter and looked around for Martha. The seamstress stood commiserating with Hannah, and guilt’s cold fingers clutched Annie’s conscience for thinking only of herself and her own disappointment.
She approached with an outstretched hand. “I’m so sorry, Hannah.” She squeezed the young woman’s arm, which brought fresh tears. “I’m sure things will work out. He’ll be back as soon as he can—you know he will.”
If it didn’t snow three feet between Christmas and January, like every freighter said it always did.
Turning to Martha, Annie lowered her voice. “Please tell Daddy I’ll be along directly. I’m going to stop at the livery and check on Nell.”
Martha’s sorrowful eyes transformed. “You tell that young Caleb that we expect him for Sunday dinner. I’ve already set a place for him at the table.”
Annie planted a kiss on Martha’s cheek, squeezed Hannah’s soggy handkerchief-wrapped fingers one more time and hurried across the road.
The perfume of sweet hay and horseflesh wafted from the stable as Annie squeezed between the doors. Had Christ’s birthplace smelled like this? She’d never considered the possibility since every holiday season in her aunt’s home smelled of baking and spices and candles and greenery. But here, in the shadowy stalls and open livery rafters, she felt somehow closer to the essence of the first Christmas.
Caleb’s low voice sounded from Nell’s stall and sent shivers up Annie’s arms. She moved closer, watching him work his way behind the mare, his deep tones as comforting as a mother’s lullaby. Annie held a hand to her mouth, afraid for even the quietest word to disturb the moment.
Caleb had rolled up his shirtsleeves, and his muscled forearms bore evidence of hard work. Annie knew the strength in those hands, but they smoothed along Nell’s swelling body as gently as a flannel blanket. She knew that touch, as well, and it wakened something lying deep within her.
The memory of Caleb’s rescue flooded her with warmth, and she shifted, drawing his attention outside the stall.
“It won’t be long,” he said softly.
Apparently satisfied with his charge’s condition, he ducked beneath Nell’s neck and gently opened the stall door. Standing close in the alleyway, he rolled down his sleeves and searched Annie’s face in the most disarming way.
Grateful to be in shadow, she loosened her scarf. “You might want to pray that she foals soon, because I think you’re about to be asked to fill in for Pastor Hartman for a while.”
Caleb’s expression sobered. “What makes you say that?”
“The pastor’s brother in Denver was injured and won’t be coming down to perform the wedding. Instead, he’s asked Pastor Hartman to come to Denver and take over duties there for Christmas. Not only will there not be a wedding here, there won’t be a Christmas Eve service, either.”
Annie’s sense of injustice had twisted the scarf she fingered into a knot. Caleb stared at her.
He hadn’t made the connection. “I believe Daddy told the pastor of your previous calling.”
Caleb finished rolling his sleeves down, buttoned his cuffs and reached for his hat. A sharp downward pull hid his eyes, and Annie took a step closer, seeking their depths. “You’ll do it if they ask you, won’t you?”
His embattled expression gave her pause, and she drew back. He stopped her with a hand at her waist and closed the distance between them.
Annie’s heartbeat danced at her temple and in her throat. How dark his eyes were, as if he warred against some inner torment. She clutched the ends of her scarf in one hand and laid the other against his chest. His heart ran as hard as her own. “Do you doubt that you can do it?”
With his free hand, he touched her hair, then smoothed the back of his fingers against her cheek.
“You are beautiful, Annie Whitaker. Beautiful in spirit and in form.”
She breathed in, commanding her breath to come evenly, steadily. It wouldn’t do to swoon in his arms right there in the livery. Lowering her gaze, she studied the texture of his new waistcoat, at a loss for words for the first time in her life.
Caleb lifted her hand from his chest and pressed her fingers against his lips before putting a safer distance between them. “I can do it if He calls me.”
Annie’s heart hitched. “Pastor Hartman?”
He smiled at her confusion. “If God calls me. He’ll enable me.”
“But didn’t He already call you?” She regretted her remark even as it slid from her lips, for sadness washed over his face. Without thinking, she reached to smooth it away.
He caught her hand. “Will you be there?”
“Yes.” Would she ever breathe again without her heart racing like a runaway horse?
His smile returned, and he squeezed her hand and released it. “If God wants me to stand in His pulpit again, He’ll make it clear to me and present the opportunity Himself.”
Stunned by his humility and flushed with emotion, Annie moved toward the door, seeking the clarity of the cold air. “Martha is expecting you for dinner. She’s already set a plate for you at the table.”
His features softened, and he pulled his duster from a nail on the wall. “Then we’d best be going, hadn’t we?”
He offered her his arm, and she couldn’t help the smile that came to her face.
She took it without hesitation.
* * *
With Annie’s hand tucked beneath his, Caleb counted calendar days in his head. A week and a half until Christmas Eve, with a Sunday service before that. Annie’s news had simply confirmed his recent commitment. He’d already told the Lord he’d go where he was called.
Clattering hooves drew his attention to a cloaked rider approaching with his hat pulled low. Annie’s fingers tightened on his arm.
“Caleb.” Robert Hartman reined up beside them. “Annie.” He touch
ed his hat and his gray mount blew its smoky breath and stomped impatiently, invigorated by the cold and a promised run.
“Pastor Hartman,” Caleb said. “We’ll miss you at Christmas, but our prayers go with you for a safe trip to Denver.”
“Thank you.” Hartman yanked unnecessarily on the reins, sending the horse dancing backward. Caleb stepped forward and took the headstall, mumbling low.
“Annie’s father tells me you’re a preacher,” the pastor said.
“Yes, sir. Spent a year or so at a small church in Missouri, then came west.” With the flat of his hand he rubbed the horse’s face while reading Hartman’s expression. No need to go into reasons and regrets.
“Wish I’d known sooner. We could have visited, compared notes. But as you know, I’m on my way to my brother’s and need someone to hold the Christmas Eve service that people are counting on. Not to mention next Sunday, and maybe more than that, depending. Are you willing?”
The gray startled forward at Hartman’s clumsy kick, and the man jerked back on the reins again.
“Easy,” Caleb murmured. Hartman’s eagerness to leave transmitted to the horse. Caleb stepped aside. “I’d be happy to. Thank you for your trust.”
The gray reared slightly and tossed its head. “I’ll be back as soon as I can, and will send a letter to Hannah telling her when to expect my return.”
Hartman looked at Annie. “Thank your father for me. I feel better knowing someone will be here in my absence.” He nodded to Caleb. “I’ll be praying for you.”
“And I for you,” Caleb said as the gray seemed to tiptoe on the frozen street. “Let up on the reins and watch your heels, and he’ll be easier to handle.”
Hartman grinned. “Thanks. I might say the same about our unique congregants. Merry Christmas.”
Winning the struggle, the gray wheeled and charged east out of town. Caleb snugged Annie’s arm close against him. He already knew the text for his message.
Two blocks west and they stepped off the boardwalk and turned north toward Martha’s home. The dry snow squeaked beneath Caleb’s boots and powdery crystals swirled in a light crosswind. Annie tucked her scarf against her chin.
Martha’s walkway had been swept clear, and smoke curled from the chimney. Caleb opened the door for Annie, and his mouth watered at the aroma that welcomed them. After stomping his feet, he stepped in and closed the door. The small cabin swelled with goodwill and good food.
He’d gladly live in a cabin like this if Annie shared it with him.
He took Annie’s cloak from her tense shoulders, wishing he could wrap her in his arms until she relaxed against him. Suspecting he knew the cause of her tension, he leaned close to her ear. “It’s all right,” he said. “Cooper won’t hurt you again.”
The look she gave him drew every ounce of protectiveness up through his veins. He wanted to keep her safe, warm, close.
God help him.
* * *
On Monday morning the hall above the Fremont Saloon overflowed with people for Cooper’s hearing. Word got around fast.
Caleb stood against the back wall, a position that gave him a clear view of Cooper, Magistrate Warren and Annie seated with her father toward the front.
The saloon owner wasn’t as cocky as he’d been the day Caleb dragged him to the jail. He was probably sober—a frightening condition for a man given to liquor and license.
Caleb wished there was some other way to go about justice that didn’t require Annie’s public testimony, but she held her head high and spoke clearly and unemotionally.
Cooper squirmed in his seat and the truth was apparent, if the murmurs and nods rippling through the crowd were any indication. Warren must have been right. It seemed that Cooper was overdue for his comeuppance.
After a brief discussion, the court members told Cooper that if he sold his property and left town immediately, they’d let him go. Otherwise, he’d serve time in jail and be required to pay a heavy fine. Caleb felt they were letting the man off too easy, but one look at Annie reminded him that Cooper’s absence was what she really wanted.
The need to protect her surged through his blood again. Whatever it took.
The gavel sounded and Cooper was led away to turn over the deed to his hotel and saloon and ride out of town.
It was done. Now Caleb could spend the next few days preparing for his return to the pulpit.
Chapter 15
Caleb started a fire in the woodstove, lit the lamps and set out extra tapers for the Christmas Eve service. Then he swept the front steps and carried in the heap of pine boughs Karl Turk had earlier dropped by from his cuttings. Several branches still bore cones, and their sweet pitch filled the clapboard building with a familiar Christmas promise.
Fresh hope. A future. God’s expected end.
Caleb longed for all three.
His first Sunday had gone well. People had not stayed away simply because their pastor was gone.
Humbled by Hartman’s willingness to leave his flock in Caleb’s care, and the congregation’s willingness to give Caleb a chance, he checked the fire again and adjusted the damper. The small building should be warm by the time people arrived for the evening’s service.
But rather than stay and go over his brief sermon, Caleb answered the tug on his heart that called him back to the livery. He’d learned a long time ago to follow that call where animals were concerned. He just hadn’t paid it as much heed with people.
Scanning the room and pleased with his preparations, he softly closed the door and hurried to the livery.
Thank God he’d listened.
Nell flattened her ears as Caleb entered the stall—not her usual easygoing welcome. Her rounded belly had a more angular look, and she swished her tail and stomped a back foot. Caleb’s gut twisted at the signs. Not now.
Agitated, Nell’s discomfort sent her head reaching back toward her sides, blowing and whiffling. Caleb had no way to predict how soon or how quickly she would foal, and he couldn’t be two places at once—in the livery with Nell and across the street at the Christmas Eve service.
He’d promised Hartman he’d care for the congregation—the brave souls who’d left the comforts and customs of home to start a new life in the Rockies. Maybe he could leave Nell to her own devices. How many times as a boy had he been surprised to walk in on a spindly legged foal nuzzling a carefree mama who had delivered without anyone’s help?
But one never knew for sure. And Nell was Annie’s joy. There was more to this delivery than simply another foal.
With divided loyalty tearing at his gut, he grabbed his duster and set out for the mercantile. The sliver of daylight above Fremont Peak told him folks would soon be arriving. He’d ask Annie and her father to watch Nell while he greeted people at the church and let him know if she was in distress. Annie stood bundled at the stove, ready to leave, while her father banked the fire and set the lid. The bell pulled her toward the door, and her eyes warmed with welcome until she saw what lay behind Caleb’s own.
Hurrying to him, her voice was tight and worried. “What is it? Is something wrong at the church house?”
He clasped both her hands in his, regretting the tension he’d set in her brow. “It’s Nell. She’s close to her time.”
He looked over Annie’s head to her father tugging on his overcoat and scarf.
“I’m here to ask if you’ll stay with her while I start the service and let the people know what’s happening.”
“Of course we will,” Daniel said. “Let’s go.” He stormed out the door as if he’d put all his life and soul into that mare rather than bemoan her appetite.
The lantern Caleb had hung outside Nell’s stall pooled a yellow light in the alleyway and deepened the shadows beyond. Nell whinnied at the intrusion and flattened her ears in warning.
Annie and Daniel leaned against the railing, looking as if they’d never seen a horse in all their lives. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.
“Promise me.” Caleb laid his hand on Annie’s shoulder, pressing until she looked at him.
“I promise,” she said.
Nell paced as much as the cramped box allowed, and Caleb wished he had a larger space for her. In her irritable condition, any unwelcome intruder could be hurt. Or killed.
“It’s very likely she’ll deliver without any problem. She may lie down and get up again. She may kick or moan. Whatever she does, do not go in there.”
“What should we look for?” Daniel’s steady voice and calm expression restored Caleb’s confidence in his choice of guardian.
“Two hooves and a nose is what we want to come first.” His discomfort at mentioning such intimate details in Annie’s presence subsided as he studied her unflustered profile. “If anything else presents instead, come and get me.”
She touched his arm. “Daddy will come and get us. I am going with you.” Her fingers pressed into his sleeve, and she lowered her voice. “I will be praying for you as well as for Nell.”
Caleb’s heart hammered into his throat. With a final glance at the mare, and then at the lovely woman who believed in him more than he felt he deserved, he took her hand and they strode out the livery doors and across the street.
* * *
Hannah and her parents had driven in from their ranch, and Caleb gratefully acknowledged the young woman’s tending of the lanterns and candles. The little church glowed with goodwill, and people chose benches closer to the front this evening, either to join in the festive Christmas spirit or to avoid the dropping temperature that lurked beyond the back door.
Caleb stepped up on the rough-hewn platform to lead the first carol.
No organ or piano accompanied the rich vocal mix of miner and merchant. But all knew the tune and those who were brave broke into harmony. The few children’s angelic voices joined the chorus, and Caleb’s spirit rose on the sound. The very angels who declared the Lord’s birth could not have announced it more majestically than the simple folk of this little mountain town.