All Is Bright: Bridget’s Christmas Miracle (Mail-Order Brides of Laramie County 1)

by Faith Parsons

  No, he wouldn’t sleep until he’d seen that his family was all right.

  Tiptoeing in, watching the floorboards to make sure he didn’t step on the creaky one, it was only after he’d silently eased the door shut that he looked up. For a second, he wondered if he was in the wrong home.

  A festive tree, decorated with precious tinsel and Ada’s glass ornaments stood in one corner. The ornaments he’d packed away because every time Pearl saw them, she screamed for her mother. What the blazes was Bridget thinking?

  She doesn’t know. She probably put the tree up after Pearl went to bed, thinking it would be a nice surprise. Well, he would roust her out of bed and talk with her straightaway. If they both worked fast, they might be able to get the tree out of there before Pearl woke up.

  He crept toward the bedroom door, but as he passed the wingback chair, he heard a soft sigh. He peeked over the chair’s high back. Bridget had fallen asleep in it, a small box on her lap. Not just a box, Ada’s music box. The one he’d given her for their first Christmas. Bile burned at the back of his throat as a maelstrom of emotions whipped through him.

  She’d gone through Ada’s things. Things he’d packed away for a reason. How could she?

  The soft shuffle of feet on the hardwood floor alerted him to Pearl’s arrival. Emerging from the room she now shared with Mary, Chase’s daughter smiled sleepily at him. But instead of barreling into his legs and clinging for dear life, she pointed to the tree. And she hummed.

  She hummed the song from the music box.

  Had the cold gotten to him? Was it possible that he still shivered in the hunter’s shack, hallucinating that he’d come home and found Pearl smiling and making sounds?

  She pointed at the tree again, more emphatically this time, her little eyebrows arching up just like her mother’s had when he was being slow.

  “It’s beautiful, Pearl,” Chase whispered. “Did you help decorate it?”

  Pearl beamed and nodded.

  Chase’s heart clenched up with something he hadn’t felt since Pearl’s birth.

  Joy.

  I love you so much, he wanted to say. But his mouth wouldn’t work. So instead he scooped her up and hugged her.

  A soft whine emerged from the basket near the hearth, and Pearl began to squirm in his arms. Chase set her down. She ran to the basket, scooped out a puppy, and held it up to him.

  And barked.

  The second noise he’d heard her make since he’d come back home to find her mother dead. It was a miracle.

  “Chase?” Bridget croaked, then cleared her throat. “Did you find the sheep?”

  His own throat wasn’t working great either. There was a big, hard lump in it that he couldn’t seem to swallow. He nodded.

  She sat up and smoothed her braid, which seemed to have become loose while she slept. “Are they all right?”

  He nodded again.

  Bridget bit her lips and looked at her feet, like she didn’t want to see his reaction to what she was about to say. “Can I fix you some breakfast?”

  “Yes.”

  She bolted for the kitchen. He should follow her. Apologize for worrying her. Thank her for taking such good care of the children while he was out. But somehow the idea of having a normal conversation was too much for him right now. He was afraid that all the things he was feeling—about Ada, about Pearl, about seeing the house decorated for Christmas—would come spilling out in a mess, and she’d think him a fool.

  He heard the opening of a door in the kitchen. She was probably getting wood for the cookstove. Yep. Moments later, the clang of cast-iron door being unlatched. Exhausted though he was, his hunger won—he’d skipped dinner the night before, no provisions in the shack. So he went to the kitchen, and while she fried eggs and toasted the last of the bread, he filled the kettle with water and set it on the stove. Got down the tin of coffee.

  “I can do that, if you want to rest,” Bridget said without missing a beat.

  He did want to rest. But it felt so normal to be making coffee while she bustled around the kitchen. He hadn’t felt normal in years. “You like sugar in yours?”

  “A little. You like bacon with your eggs?”

  “A lot.” He got out mugs, plates, forks. Set them on the table. “The house looks nice.”

  She answered matter-of-factly, without turning around, but he could see how her shoulders tensed. “I did it for the girls. And Tom.”

  “I appreciate that,” Chase said. And he discovered that he meant it.

  After that she moved with much more confidence, even giving him a shy smile when he handed her a platter to put the food on.

  He wanted to tell her so many things. How angry he’d been with himself when he’d realized he wouldn’t make it home in time to beat the blizzard. How he’d feared he’d made the same mistake twice, putting the sheep ahead of his family. How he wasn’t some sort of Scrooge who hated Christmas, but he’d been trying to protect Pearl.

  How afraid he was that things were going to go as horribly wrong with Bridget as they’d gone with Ada.

  At first, he’d thought Ada’s enthusiasm for Christmas was genuine. She’d belt out Christmas carols, insisting that he sing with her. She’d saved up for a year to buy expensive glass ornaments for the tree and tinsel, even though that money would’ve been better spent on herself. She’d practically ordered him to leave the holiday celebrations to her—until that late night where he found her weeping in the pantry.

  He’d had no idea she hated Wyoming so much.

  She wanted to go home, she’d confessed. Where it was warm, and she could pick oranges and lemons off the trees in her backyard. She missed her family desperately, missed their jolly, hectic Christmas celebrations. Chase knew that Ada had loved Pearl, but in the end, homesickness had turned the joyful, delicate woman he had married into someone he didn’t know.

  He should have let Ada go back to Texas while she was still alive. But she’d have taken Pearl with her, and that would have killed him. He’d been so selfish.

  A thumping in the loft brought him back to the present.

  “Morning’ Mr. Chase!” Tom already had the hang of the ladder. “Glad you’re back. Bridey was worried you might’ve froze to death.”

  Bridget colored. Chase wondered, was she resisting the urge to scold him for leaving her alone to manage everything? Many women would have.

  But instead, she flashed a sheepish smile. “You’re back now, that’s all that matters.”

  “Where’s Mary?” Tom asked. “Pearl’s already dressed Splotch for breakfast.”

  “Go wake her, will you Tom?” Bridget took a plate out of the oven—was that apple pie? Chase’s mouth watered. How had he gotten so lucky?

  He was about to sit down at the table when Tom burst into the kitchen, white as a sheet. “They’re gone!”

  He didn’t have to ask who was gone. He raced to Pearl’s bedroom. Stopped just inside.

  The window was open. And in the snow that had drifted right up to the bottom of the window framea set of tiny footprints crossed the yard.

  A puppy’s.

  Two more sets of footprints ran from the snow beneath the window to join the puppy’s trail.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Bridget gasped as she peeked around Chase and saw the trail of child-sized boot prints in the snow outside, punctuated by tiny puppy prints. “Why did they go outside?”

  “She can’t have gone far,” Chase snapped as he shouldered past her and stormed out into the front room. “Tom, get dressed now.”

  Panic swirled behind Bridget’s eyes. “How did the puppy get out? They were all inside last night. Splotch even startled me last night when I was fetching a log from the lean-to.”

  Chase stormed to the window, grabbing the frame like he wanted to rip it out of the wall. “Pearl! Mary! Leave that puppy and come back inside now!”

  Bridget noticed that a film of ice had already formed over the water in the girls’ wash basin. And two petite red j
ackets still hung from the hooks on the wall. It’s the cold that kills. How quickly would it kill two little girls dressed only in nightgowns and boots?

  Chase looked over his shoulder at her. “You didn’t notice the puppy going out?”

  “The door was only open for a couple of minutes.” Bridget shook her head miserably. “I just carried one log into the front room, and put another one in the cookstove.”

  “The girls must have seen the tracks outside their window when they woke up and decided to bring him back.”

  This was all her fault. Chase had already lost his wife, and had barely hung on to Pearl. Now he might lose his daughter too, and it would be all her fault.

  “I’m going after them,” Chase said, slamming the window shut so hard the glass panes rattled. He pushed past Bridget and shrugged back into his coat. “They can’t have gotten far.”

  Chase unlocked the gun cabinet and grabbed a rifle. Bridget’s panic turned to terror, colder than the snow outside, freezing her from the inside out. Why did he need a shotgun to follow the girls’ footsteps and bring them back?

  She grabbed her own coat from the hook by the door.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Chase huffed, pulling on his hat.

  “With you.”

  “Like heck you are!” he growled. “I don’t need to be worrying about you too. Stay put.”

  She ignored him, shoving the buttons through their holes as she followed him out the front door. If he thought she was the kind of woman who would stay behind while her little sister was lost, he didn’t know her at all.

  Icy air stabbed her lungs. If breathing hurt her so much, how must Pearl and Mary be feeling? The sun shone clear and strong, casting long shadows around the house and barn. Chase went to the side of the house first, and sure enough, there were the puppy’s tracks, meandering around the woodpile and out across the yard. I’m such an idiot.

  “Pearl knows better than to go out in the snow by herself,” Chase muttered, drawing on his gloves as he marched down the porch stairs. “She would never do this on her own.”

  His words stung even worse than the cold. “Are you saying this is Mary’s fault?”

  “I’m saying Pearl’s got more sense than to chase a puppy into a snow drift.”

  Something snapped in Bridget. “How dare you! My little sister, and your daughter—no, our daughter—are out in cold you told me could kill them. And you’re wasting time laying blame?”

  Chase turned to stare at her, looking dumfounded. “Now, hold on, Bridget—”

  “All night, I thought you might be hurt. I thought you might be dead. What would I have said to Pearl if you hadn’t come back?”

  “I didn’t mean—”

  “It was my job to protect Mary and Pearl while you were gone,” Bridget said. “The blame’s on me. Don’t you dare blame her for not knowing better.”

  Chase walked faster. “No, the blame’s on me. I failed to protect Ada, and now she’s dead. I failed to protect Pearl, and now she’s mute. You were still in Chicago when I abandoned my own wife and child.”

  “You couldn’t have known.” Bridget could barely get the words out. She needed all the air in her lungs just to keep moving. Her skirts were wet up to her knees, and twice as heavy as when they’d been dry. “The blizzard was not your fault.”

  He swung around so fast she ran into him, his face contorting with fury. “I could have come home sooner. But I knew Ada didn’t love me the way I loved her. I knew she wanted to go back to Texas. I chose to stay away longer because I hated seeing the misery in her eyes and knowing I put it there.”

  Bridget forced herself not to cringe. Forced herself to hold her gaze steady as she looked up at her husband. “Ada chose to stay.”

  “For Pearl. Not for me.”

  “And who are you to say she chose wrong?” Bridget countered. “I would have done the same for Mary. I nearly did. If you hadn’t proposed, I’d still be taking the brunt of Da’s belt to protect her.”

  Chase’s features sagged with grief. “I let my wife die, alone. My daughter almost starved to death before I made it back.”

  “Does blaming yourself for that every day make you love her more?”

  He opened his mouth as if he meant to argue.

  Somewhere nearby, a wolf howled and two little girls screamed.

  Chapter Fifteen

  As Chase ran ahead of her, Bridget gathered her skirts and hoisted them up above her knees. The snow burned cold against the skin of her legs, but at least the wet, heavy fabric no longer dragged, slowing her down. She tried to put her feet where Chase had stepped, but his strides were so much longer than hers. The trail of footprints led into the woods. Chase disappeared into a thicket of pines as another girlish scream split the air.

  Terror pounded in Bridget’s ears as she leapt over fallen branches and bracken, struggling to keep up with Chase. Her lungs were filled with fire that failed to warm her, and she shivered in waves. She forced her leaden legs to keep moving. The snow blanket was thin under the trees. If they didn’t find the girls soon, there would be no more footprints.

  Bridget tripped again, her coat catching on a rotten log as she stumbled blindly over it. More precious seconds wasted freeing herself.

  “Mary! Pearl!” Chase hollered, his voice ragged. “Where are you?”

  He held up his hand. Bridget barely avoided slamming into his back as he stopped abruptly.

  “What? Hear something?” she asked, lungs heaving too hard for her to get out a complete sentence.

  “I lost the track. Snow’s too patchy. We’ve got to go slower.” He put his hands on his thighs and bent at the waist, trying to catch his breath.

  They stood still for a few moments, scanning the ground, straining to listen.

  “There,” Bridget cried, spying a small boot track in the mud. “Over there.”

  “Oh sweet Jesus,” Chase exhaled. He broke into a run, no longer trying to be quiet.

  Bridget examined the ground he’d been standing over. Saw what looked like footprints left by a dog. A really big dog.

  No, a wolf.

  “Pearl! Mary!” Bridget yelled into the trees.

  Then she heard it, a small, terrified cry: “Bridget!”

  Chase and Bridget stopped and turned as one toward the sound.

  “Where are you?” Chase bellowed.

  “Help! By the Buffalo Rocks!”

  Chase hurtled through the forest. Bridget ran after him with her forearms in front of her face, to catch the branches slapping at her. Her feet were so numb, the brutal shock of icy water filling her boots as they charged through a shallow creek barely registered.

  “Just over the hill!” Chase gasped. In spite of his exertion, he seemed to have no trouble navigating the uneven incline. Bridget slipped and slid, hands smacking the muddy ground as she caught herself and pushed back up. By the time she reached the hilltop, she couldn’t feel her hands either.

  Below them, stark against a mound of grey rocks, Bridget saw two small figures in matching flannel nightgowns and winter hats. One of the girls huddled on a ledge a few feet off the ground, high enough for a child to climb, but nowhere near high enough to avoid a wolf’s snapping jaws. The other stood bravely in front of the rocks, waving a fallen branch before her. A wolf crouched, no more than ten yards away, snarling, ready to spring.

  “Bad wolf! Bad wolf! Go away! My Papa’s going to come and shoot you!”

  That wasn’t Mary yelling, Bridget realized with a start. It was Pearl.

  “Pearl! Mary!” Chase yelled as he raised the rifle’s stock to his shoulder. “Don’t move!”

  “Papa!” Pearl cried as the wolf turned away from her to face the new threat. Spittle dripped from its jaws. The dark, hungry fury in its eyes—Bridget had never seen anything like it. The beast advanced a step toward them.

  Chase fired. Bridget clapped her hands over her ears. She’d never heard a gun fired before, and certainly never so close by. The wolf froz
e, but didn’t fall over. Had Chase missed?

  “Come on, don’t make me shoot you.” He fired again, this time hitting a tree behind the wolf and sending a shower of splintered wood raining down on the animal. The wolf bolted, disappearing into the forest.

  Chase was already halfway down the incline. Bridget skidded after him. It was a miracle she didn’t fall. Not that it mattered. Nothing mattered but getting to the girls.

  Chase got there first. Pearl leapt into his arms.

  “Are you hurt?” he asked. “Did the wolf bite you?”

  “No, but my feets are cold,” Pearl complained.

  Chase kissed her forehead and set her down. Then he turned to Mary, who hadn’t moved from her ledge, and held out his arms. “Jump down to me, I’ll catch you.”

  Pearl dashed over to Bridget, grabbing her hand and pulling her over to the rocks where Chase was speaking in low tones to Mary. Eyes wide with terror, Mary continued to crouch on the ledge, as if she couldn’t hear him.

  “Mary, show ‘em!” Pearl called out. “Show ‘em how you saved Li’l Britches!”

  Mary shifted her arms, and a tiny puppy head poked out of the top of her nightgown.

  “Come on now, Mary.” Pearl encouraged. “Let’s go home. Tom’s gonna be so jealous when he hears!”

  That brought a slight smile to Mary’s face, but she still didn’t move.

  “The wolf tried to eat me.” Mary looked to Bridget, as if for confirmation. “But Pearl whacked him good.”

  Bridget nodded. “You’re safe now.”

  “Come on, Mary. There’s Christmas at home, remember? I want some pie,” Pearl cajoled.

  Mary scooted to the edge of the rocks and pushed off, trusting Chase to catch her. He immediately handed her to Bridget, who thought she’d never been so happy to hold her little sister.

  “Check her for bites. I don’t think the wolf was rabid,” Chase said quietly. “But check.”

  “What does rabid mean?”

  “It means she could get sick if she was bitten.” Bridget hugged Mary closer.

  “Pearl didn’t let the bad wolf bite me, she was ever so brave, Mr. Chase! She wasn’t afraid of nothing.”