Caleb’s gut knotted tighter than a hangman’s noose. No one had seen Abby. Caleb had always admired her hide-and-seek skills, never imagining that she’d use it against him. Night was approaching and his little girl was still missing.
“I’ll find her.” Luke gripped the horn and pulled himself into the saddle.
Three more men sat mounted and eager to start yet another search party.
The plod of a horse’s hooves pulled Caleb’s attention. He lifted his gaze and took a step back. Grace rounded the church, leading a bay. When she met his gaze, she stopped and inclined her head at the rider. Squinting, Caleb lifted his attention, and Abby waved at him. Shouting her name, he shot forward, tossing his cane, nearly tripping over his own feet. He’d barely reached the horse when Abby jumped into his arms, and he enveloped her in a big hug.
“You’re squeezing too hard, Daddy.” Abby giggled.
The excitement of the crowd surrounding them faded.
Before he could stop himself, Caleb pulled Grace into a bear hug, inhaling her scent, welcoming her form against him. “Thank you.” He squeezed his eyes against the tears and gripped her hair at the nape of her neck, brushing his lips against her brow.
She gasped, stiffened, but then her arms snaked around him and Abby.
“Mama brought Grandpa, too,” Abby said.
Pulling back, Caleb swallowed hard just as Luke helped Reverend Conrad from the saddle. This close, Caleb couldn’t believe he’d missed the man’s presence entirely. It had been years since Caleb had seen Margaret’s father, and though signs of age were more prominent now in his countenance, the edge to his expression was missing.
His father-in-law hobbled, using the horse as support to keep upright. The man rested a hand on Caleb’s shoulder. “Caleb...it’s good to see you.” The lines at his eyes deepened in a smile. Perhaps the first genuine one he’d given Caleb in years. Reverend Conrad motioned at Grace. “The lovely Miss Blackwell was kind enough to accompany me to you.”
“Go ahead, Abby. Libby and Aunt Ellen have been worried about you.” Caleb set Abby down.
Abby reached for Reverend Conrad’s hand. “Come meet Libby, Grandpa.”
The sight of Reverend Conrad’s trembling lips halted a protest from Caleb. Abby took her grandpa’s hand and headed to the house. His tread was slow as he favored his left ankle, but nothing would stop him from meeting his youngest granddaughter.
“I’ve done a lot of stupid in my life, Caleb.” Grace gripped the rail of the porch, attempting to summon enough courage to look at him. When she did, he gave her that smile, the one that made her heart melt. His dimple! Would she forever be helpless against it? “I’m sorry. Abby could’ve been hurt.”
He leaned against the rail and crossed his ankles. “But she’s home, where she belongs.” Caleb cupped her face between his hands and studied her face. “And you’re where you belong, too.”
Her knees went weak. “I didn’t want to leave.”
“I’m glad you came back.”
“I left because I fell in love with you,” she whispered.
His lips touched hers, soft and gentle and with a trace of hesitance. Bluebonnets! She locked her arms around his neck and pressed her parted lips fully against his. Caleb took a second before he responded with more boldness, claiming her mouth completely, tightening his arms around her waist.
“I have two adorable little girls who want you to really become their mother.”
“Oh?”
“It’ll be my best Christmas ever if you would consider marrying me.” He pulled her against him and she rested her cheek on his shoulder.
“And if I never cook anything other than stew?”
A laugh rumbled his chest. “Best stew I’ve had in my life.”
“Never quite sew as well as those ladies in church?”
“I love you. With you by my side, frayed clothes won’t matter.”
“Is that so?” Her lips quirked, and she looked at him.
He brushed a strand of hair behind her ear and kissed her forehead. “Reverend Conrad’s here. We should make use of the opportunity, unless you don’t want him to marry us?”
Grace smiled. “I don’t care who marries us, as long as we get married.”
Epilogue
Christmas Day, December, 1876
A pine tree adorned with dried fruit and red ribbons dominated the corner of Mr. Conrad’s vast parlor. As he read A Christmas Carol, Libby and Abby sat at his feet along with Ellen and Luke’s son, James. Jewel stretched out at the fire.
When Mr. Conrad closed the tome and announced it was time to exchange presents, the children squiggled into place near the tree. Mr. Conrad gave the girls a delicate pink and white tea set and a beautiful wooden rocking horse for James. Ellen handed knitted scarves to each of the men and mittens to the children. Luke delighted her by giving her a lovely golden locket. While the children were captivated by their gifts, Grace offered Caleb the small leather pouch she’d kept hidden in her skirt pocket for weeks.
“You didn’t have to get me anything.” The dimple in his cheek deepened.
“I wanted to.”
After untying the string, he removed the pocket watch and opened the cover. Grace grinned when he blinked as he took in the inscription she had etched inside the lid. Once he was composed, Caleb brushed his lips against her temple. He pulled her aside and presented her with a Sharps rifle identical to the one Willie Pratt stole.
“Where did you get this?” Grace palmed the stock, and tears prickled her eyes. When Ellen warned her about the unraveling emotions she’d experience with pregnancy, she never expected instant tears.
“Luke owed me a favor.” Caleb winked.
She traced the barrel with her fingertips. “This is…incredible.”
Caleb shrugged and bumped her shoulder with his. “You know what they say. The way to a woman’s heart is to buy her a Sharps rifle.”
With a sniffle, Grace propped the weapon in the nearby corner and handed Abby and Libby each a doll she’d fashioned from Margaret’s handkerchiefs.
“Oh, Mama she’s beautiful.” Abby traced the embroidered initials in the front corner of the doll’s skirt. Libby hugged hers to her chest. The girls frolicked about with them until Caleb insisted they come sit at the table for Christmas dinner. They perched the dolls onto their bouncing legs.
“You’ve turned into quite the preacher’s wife.” Caleb slipped his hand into hers under the table.
“Careful, you just armed me again.” Grace inclined her head toward her rifle and squeezed his hand.
“I’m so grateful to be spending Christmas with all of you.” Mr. Conrad smiled at Libby and Abby. “Merry Christmas, everyone. Let’s pray. Our Father, thank You for Your goodness and kindness. Thank You for the opportunity to celebrate today with family. We thank you for the greatest gift of all, Your Son, Jesus. Amen.”
Around the table everyone nodded in agreement and Grace’s heart fluttered. She couldn’t have asked for a finer family. She glanced at Ellen, and they exchanged a smile.
Mr. Conrad smoothed out his napkin and set it in his lap. “Grace and Ellen, you’ve prepared a feast fit for royalty.” Platters of baked ham and chicken, along with bowls of mashed potatoes, green beans, and beets covered the table.
When it was time for dessert, Grace brought in a generous pumpkin pie, and Luke released a whistle.
“Can we take the risk?” The twinkle in his eye kept Grace from knocking him against the head.
“I’ve improved from humble stew.” Grace placed the knife in the center of the baked treat and dragged it to the edge. “Mostly because I’ve had the most patient teacher in the whole of Texas.”
Ellen grinned. “You were a very determined pupil.” Between her and Luke, James waved his spoon in the air.
After passing out the servings of pie to all, Grace settled back in her chair with her own slice. “Take a bite and see before y’all get too excited.”
They dug into their plates, and mumbles of appreciation and praise sounded all around her.
“How’re you doing in there, little man?” Caleb spread his fingers across Grace’s burgeoning abdomen, and she moved his hand to the spot most active at the moment.
“Who says it’s a little man?”
Libby and Abby looked at one another and Abby piped up, “We prayed for a brother, Mama.”
“Need I remind you they prayed for a Mama last year?” Caleb leaned closer and kissed her tenderly. “Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”
His kiss left her breathless. “Merry Christmas,” she whispered.
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