His eyes settled on Annie, seated with the Smith family. She caught his look and held it with what appeared to be a promise. Could she someday be his?
Warmed by the fire and the bodies crowded into the tiny church, the air simmered with paraffin, kerosene and fresh pine. Bible in hand, Caleb stood next to the simple pulpit, wanting nothing between him and the people this night.
“As you all know, I care for the stock at the livery—a skill I learned many years before my seminary training. I stand here this evening to extend to you your pastor’s heartfelt Christmas blessings, to rejoice with you in our Lord’s priceless gift and also to explain the situation at hand.”
People settled in their places. Women removed their gloves, and men balanced hats on their laps.
Caleb cleared his throat and took a small step forward. “The Whitakers’ mare has chosen this night to birth her foal, and if I’m needed—I apologize—but I’ll be stepping out.”
A few murmurs hummed across the room, but no one left. A good sign.
A deep breath loosened his chest, and the familiarity of God’s word strengthened his stance. “The Scriptures tell us that our faith is more valuable than gold. We know something about that around here, don’t we? Gold.”
His emphasis of the word set heads to wagging and eyes to glittering.
“Consider the gifts the Christ child received from the Eastern kings. Frankincense, myrrh, gold. A king’s gold, pure and refined and weighty, nothing like what men scrabble for in the creek beds and canyons of these Rocky Mountains.”
A few chuckles rippled across the room as men cast knowing glances among themselves and women tsked.
“So what kind of treasure do we bring to the babe this Christmas? Refined, pure gold or crusty ore mixed with pebbles and dirt?”
The question sobered his listeners, and he lifted his Bible to read from First Peter. “‘Wherein ye greatly rejoice, though now for a season, if need be, ye are in heaviness through manifold temptations.’”
He looked up from the page and into the eyes of those seated on the benches and standing against the walls. “We have manifold temptations represented here this evening. I personally have enough to pass among you with plenty left over. But I confess that I have not greatly rejoiced in them.”
Again he lifted the book and read from it. “‘That the trial of your faith, being much more precious than of gold that perisheth, though it be tried with fire, might be found unto praise and honor and glory at the appearing of Jesus Christ.’”
A chilly gust swept in and stilled Caleb’s heart as he looked up to see Daniel at the door, worry tightening his brow. Annie looked toward the back, and sat straighter, as if ready to stand. “Prospectors and speculators will tell you there is no gold in Cañon City. Show them otherwise. Let the trial in your life—whatever that trial may be—purify your faith to a burning, burnished gold, worthy of the King who was the Child, so that something more valuable than mined mountain ore will shine for Him here.”
He closed his Bible and looked over the celebrants. “With Mr. Whitaker’s sudden arrival, it appears that I am needed at the stable.”
Low voices buzzed, and most turned to look toward the entrance.
“I apologize for cutting this celebration short, but I wish you all a blessed Christmas and pray for your safe journey home and warm memories of your first such event in the great canyon’s guardian city.”
Hannah rose to attend to the candles and lanterns, and Caleb thanked her as he grabbed his hat and duster and hurried out, Annie at his side.
* * *
The few lines that Annie heard Caleb speak revealed a side of him she longed to know more of. But right now, she needed the horseman, because Nell must be having a tough go of it.
Caleb stripped off his hat and coat as they entered the barn, gave them to Annie and rolled up his sleeves. Nell lay on her side and great rolling contractions rippled across her belly. Caleb eased into the stall, sending his rich, warm voice ahead. Nell’s ears flicked his way and back again.
His gentle confidence stilled Annie’s pounding heart, and she linked her arm through her father’s. Within moments Caleb caught two tiny hooves with one hand and a white nose in the other. With one final heave, Nell pushed a new life into his arms.
The mare lay still, exhausted and breathing hard. Annie feared she had no strength left at all when the horse raised her head and curled back around to sniff and nicker a motherly welcome. Finally, she pulled herself up and turned to stand over the leggy infant, licking and rumbling deep in her chest.
Annie stood enthralled by what she saw, so much so that she didn’t hear the great livery doors open and a small crowd approach. When a child’s voice broke the stillness, she looked around to see a dozen people pressing into the alleyway, craning their necks for a look at the newborn.
“Welcome to Cañon City, little fella.” Emmy Smith peeked through the stall slats at the wobbly foal, at its spindly legs fighting for purchase.
“I think you mean little filly,” Caleb said with a smile in his voice.
Laughter rippled through the onlookers, and Emmy tucked her chin and poked out her lip.
“They’re not laughing at you—they’re laughing with you,” Springer said, kneeling beside his sister. “It’s a little girl. Filly means girl.”
“Like me?” Emmy’s bright eyes searched her papa’s face, where he stood with an arm tightly about her mama’s shoulders.
“That’s right, darlin’. Just like you.”
“Guess you knew what you were talkin’ about, Hutton.” The crusty voice rose from behind the crowd, and heads turned to identify the speaker.
Magistrate Warren cleared his throat and tugged at his hat. “There’s more gold here in these hills than the kind that glitters.”
The yellow filly hobbled forward and nuzzled her mother, and people jostled and bid each other “Merry Christmas” on their way out of the stable.
At last, only Annie, her father and Caleb stood at the gate watching Nell and her foal. Annie slipped an arm through that of each man standing beside her and pulled them closer.
“Imagine, spending Christmas Eve in a barn. What would Aunt Harriet say?”
Her father coughed out a laugh that startled the filly, and he clamped a hand over his mouth and stepped back.
Annie giggled and looked to Caleb, whose eyes held so much warmth and love that she wanted to melt into his arms right then and there.
“I’d best be getting to the mercantile,” her father said. “Martha’s there with a Christmas pudding waiting on us all to string popcorn for the tree.”
Annie hugged his girth and planted a kiss on his cheek.
“You did a fine job tonight, son. A fine job.” He slapped Caleb on the shoulder and headed for the door. “I’m going on. You both come along when you’re finished here.” He paused at the door. “You know you’re invited, Caleb. We wouldn’t have it any other way. The more the merrier.”
Annie caught the twinkle in her father’s eyes and swore she saw his mustache twitch.
Caleb retrieved a water bucket and towel from his living quarters and washed his arms and hands in the lantern’s light. Annie looked away, warmth flooding her neck and cheeks. Such intimate moments they’d shared this day. What would Edna say?
She didn’t care what Edna would say. Annie had found more in Cañon City than she’d ever dreamed. And she wasn’t about to let proprieties take that from her.
With new resolve, she turned to see Caleb watching her, pulling on his duster and settling his hat on his head. An odd smirk played on his lips.
“What?” Suddenly fidgety, she swirled her scarf around her neck and dug in her cloak pocket for her mittens.
He moved toward her, and her feet grew roots. She couldn’t have fled if she wanted to. But sh
e didn’t want to. His dark eyes drank her in in that disarming way, and she felt her insides go limp.
He stopped just beyond her tightly clutched hands, so close she felt his breath on her face, smelled the scent of him—the wool and leather, his canvas duster. He slipped one hand around her waist and pulled her into him, brushing her mouth with his eyes and then his lips.
She flattened both hands against his chest and again felt his heart beating a rhythm in time with her own.
“I love you, Annie Whitaker. Will you wait for me?”
Wait? What’s to wait for?
She searched for her voice and found it snagged on her heart.
“Wait?” she whispered.
“Until I have something to offer you. A home. A livelihood. Something besides a stable boy’s pay and a box stall.”
Her voice fled again and tears pushed behind her eyes. She swiped at them, determined not to be a silly twit like her sister. With a shaky breath, she yanked her voice back from its hiding place.
“On one condition.”
His eyes sparkled at her counter, and he pressed her closer. “And what might that be?”
“That you kiss me again right now before Daddy and Martha come looking for us.”
He gave her a smile that nearly stopped her heart, and she melted into his embrace.
Epilogue
Annie fussed with her long buttoned sleeves and reset her hair combs for the hundredth time.
“Let me,” Martha said, shooing Annie’s hands away from her head. “Be still now. You look absolutely divine. I tell you, that young man of yours won’t know his head from his hat when he sees you in this blue taffeta. I knew I’d have a need for it someday, and with your hair shining like a kiln fire, how will he ever concentrate enough to marry Hannah and Robert?”
Annie wrapped the seamstress in a quick hug, then allowed her to fuss over the folds of her skirt. Hannah watched them both with a nervous twitch that set her bouquet to quivering against her cream-colored gown.
“Oh, Hannah, you’re not frightened, are you?” Annie held a hand out to the girl, who looked as if she might faint any moment.
“I’m just so nervous,” Hannah whispered as if sharing a secret. “I want everything to go right and be done with. Tell me again how this is all going to work.”
“We’re all going to be Mrs. to our dear husbands, child.” Martha bloomed like a rose in her garden as she gave Annie’s hair a final pat and turned to the youngest of the three brides. “You will lead us between the bench rows at the church house, followed by Annie and then myself. Your Robert, Annie’s Caleb and my Daniel will be waiting for us at the front.”
“Then Caleb will take you and Robert through your vows,” Annie said, fluffing Hannah’s full sleeves. “He’s going to kiss you in front of everyone.” She couldn’t resist teasing.
Hannah went white. “Caleb’s going to kiss me?”
Martha burst into laughter, and Annie colored with guilty regret. “No, silly. Robert is going to kiss you. After Caleb marries you both.”
“Then you will step back, Robert will step forward and Caleb will take his place beside Annie for their vows,” Martha explained.
Heat pulsed at Annie’s throat, and she almost regretted her gown’s low neckline.
“Who will marry you and Daniel?” Hannah asked Martha, the homemade flowers steadier in her hand with so many questions on her mind.
“Robert,” Annie said. “He is the original pastor, and as his last duty here, he will have the honor of joining my father and Martha.” She slipped her arm around the seamstress’s waist and gave her a quick hug. “Thanks to you and your talents, we make three lovely brides. Who would have thought you could fashion flowers from ribbon and lace and fabric scraps?”
Martha blushed and waved away the remark, her cheeks nearly matching the deep burgundy of her simple but finely pleated dress.
Annie walked to the mercantile door. It looked like the entire town was trying to squeeze into the clapboard church house. Three brides and their grooms would not be the only people standing for the ceremony.
Winter had calmed its blustery self just long enough for Pastor Hartman to return for his bride. Annie prayed for it to hold until their safe return to Denver, where Hartman would take over for his still-recovering brother.
How suddenly circumstances had changed. Her heart swelled with gratitude for God’s mysterious plans unfolding so perfectly. She and Caleb planned to live in the parsonage, her father would move in with Martha and Springer Smith had already taken over at the livery under Caleb’s watchful eye, at least until the boy learned to handle the horses. Oh, how Springer’s face had lit when Caleb had asked if he’d be willing.
Louisa Smith stepped off the church steps and headed up the street.
“She’s coming,” Annie said, her breath suddenly shallow and quick. She looked to her fellow brides. “Are we ready?”
Both ladies straightened and raised their chins as if marching into a parade. What an affair this wedding promised to be—better than any Saturday night dance Cañon City had ever seen.
“Here we go,” Annie said as she opened the door and set the bell to ringing.
“Like I always say—” Martha linked her arm with Hannah and winked at Annie as they filed out to the boardwalk “—the more the merrier.”
Annie fought the urge to hike her shimmering skirts and run to the church and into Caleb’s arms. The effort consumed a good deal of her composure until they mounted the swept stairs and she peered through the doorway into the sanctuary.
Caleb stood at the head of the room in a new white shirt and borrowed frock coat, a string tie at his throat and a groom at each elbow.
His dark eyes locked on hers and drew her to the end of the terribly long aisle where she stopped before him, her heart in her throat. Their gaze broke when Robert moved to Hannah’s side and Caleb looked away to officiate over the eager couple.
Annie’s own bouquet quivered like Hannah’s, but against the easy rhythm of Caleb’s warm voice, her heartbeat soon settled and her mind wandered back over the past five months. She had dared to venture west with her father. And in the doing, she had found much more than she could have dreamed—a vast and magnificent land and a wealth of love far greater than all the gold in the Rocky Mountains.
And every ounce of it shone in the smile of the horse handler who now held out his hand to her.
“Annie?”
With a yearning in her breast at his mention of her name, she entwined her fingers in his and took her place beside him. The next great journey was about to begin.
The journey of her life as Mrs. Caleb Hutton.
* * * * *
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ISBN-13: 9781460326237
THE COWBOY TAKES A WIFE
Copyright © 2014 by Davalynn Spencer
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The Cowboy Takes a Wife Page 16