Until he looked across the aisle at Josiah Finch and his fingers faltered. Why was the son of the wealthiest man in the county casting eyes at his Kate?
He swayed to look in her direction. She batted her thick eyelashes and blushed.
So there, Josiah.
Reverend Cummings spoke the benediction, and Ewan launched into “Jesus, Lover of My Soul” to end the service. Perhaps he sped through it, but he needed to speak to Kate.
And also to Duncan MacDougall. Ewan gulped and thought of his mother’s prayer: “I put this situation in your hands, Lord, come what may.”
As the congregation filed out, Ewan rubbed down his instrument with his mother’s old embroidered handkerchief and nestled both into the battered case.
“Will you play next week? Perhaps you and young Kate could perform a duet. We’ve missed your fine music this summer.”
Ewan tugged on his coat, the last garment his mother had sewn, now a little tight with his nineteenth birthday. “I’ll speak to Kate. It’s sheer joy to play with her.”
“You wear your heart on your sleeve, Ewan. Be careful.”
He tucked the case under his arm and thanked the minister who had been so kind through the last difficult years. Reverend Cummings had buried his parents and given him a bed in his barn. He knew Ewan’s circumstances, and Ewan trusted him.
Ewan put on his old summer hat and stepped onto the wide church porch to survey the area. Golden fields surrounded the churchyard, while on the wide lawn facing town, ladies spread a potluck luncheon across makeshift tables. Ewan ignored his grumbling stomach to search for his prize.
She’d put up a parasol while politely listening to Josiah Finch, but her attention flitted his way. Her proud mercantile-owner father stood behind, his satisfied hands tucked into his linen vest and a straw hat pushed back from his forehead.
“Ewan, it’s good to see you again.” Mrs. MacDougall carried a basket of heavenly scented biscuits. “Have you returned for good?”
“I hope so, ma’am.” He took the basket and set it on the closest table. “Kate looks beautiful.”
“She does.” Mrs. MacDougall’s voice lowered. “Josiah Finch who works for the bank in Clarkesville, has come calling. Duncan is pleased.”
His stomach roiled. Ewan cleared his throat. “How does Kate feel about him?”
“It would be a good match.”
Ewan’s heart sank. She’d always been kind.
“But who can know a young woman’s heart?” Mrs. MacDougall’s dimple matched her daughter’s as she glided away.
“Ewan!” Kate danced across the grass to grasp his free hand. “You’ve been gone so long. I’ve missed you. I’ve had no one to make music with.”
An auburn curl had escaped her hairpins and dangled above her rounded shoulder. He tucked it behind her ear, nearly catching the lock on her sparkling earbob. “We’ll have to remedy that.” His voice sounded hoarse.
She leaned forward. “Are you back for good?”
“I hope so. Are you glad to see me?”
Kate glanced toward her father. “Absolutely. I’ve made three sweet new flutes. Call after the social and bring your fiddle; so much has changed this summer.”
“I can see.” His heart hammered and tongue twisted. It was safer to stay with simple answers.
She bit her full, pink lips. “Will you sit with me at supper? Josiah will probably join us, but you won’t mind, will you?”
He could see Finch glowering at him. “I must speak with your father, first.”
“Hurry. He’s always hungry after the service.”
Ewan took a deep breath and approached the Fairhope founder.
“You played well,” MacDougall said. “Your parents would have been pleased.”
“Thank you, sir. May I have a word with you in private?”
“Now?”
“If possible.”
MacDougall indicated the plain wooden church topped with a bell. “We can speak on the other side of the building.”
As far as the eye could see, a healthy crop of corn stretched golden and ripe under the clear blue sky. As the son of a farmer, Ewan knew the harvest would begin soon. “A good crop.”
“A fine one. I assume you’ve come to work.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’m sure we can find you a spot.”
“Thank you, sir, and I’ll take you up on that, but …” Ewan took a deep breath and tried to calm the nervous butterflies Mr. MacDougall always provoked. “I’d like to talk about Kate.”
The older man beamed. “My girl is growing up. She’s doing a fine job at the mercantile. Our little schoolhouse taught you well.” MacDougall frowned. “Other than Malcolm, of course. But he’ll come into his own when he runs the mercantile.”
Ewan raised his eyebrows. “Malcolm will run the store?”
MacDougall scratched the back of his neck. “He just needs time to grow up. He’ll drive a wagonload of goods to Sterling tomorrow. You remember how he loves horses.”
“Yes.”
“He could use a teamster. Perhaps you’d like to help him? It’ll be overnight, but I’ll pay you five dollars.”
“I’d like the work.”
“Good. Let’s eat.”
“I have another question.”
MacDougall tapped his toes.
“I’d like to ask for Kate’s hand.”
The large man stared. “My Kate?”
Ewan removed his old hat and brushed the unruly dark curls off his brow. “I’ve loved her since I was a boy. I’m a man now and would like to wed her.”
“Ewan, you’ve had a rough go of it, but you’re just a grasshopper of a boy. You’ve no land, no prospects, no money. All you’ve got is your fiddle and a willing heart. It’s not enough to court my daughter.”
“We love each other, sir. You know we do. We’ve always planned to wed.”
“Childhood fantasies, Ewan. Surely you can see how ridiculous this suggestion is? Josiah Finch is a much better prospect. How would you support my daughter?”
“I’ll do anything. I’m a hard worker.”
MacDougall frowned and stared at the ground. “I can’t do it, Ewan. You can’t live on love. Unless you can support my girl, I’d be a poor father to agree.”
Ewan clenched and unclenched his hands but kept his voice steady. “What would it take, sir? How can I prove myself?”
Behind them, the scratchy sound of insects in the corn caught Ewan’s ear. A soaring red hawk called from above and came to rest on the top of the church. Enormous piles of white clouds built across the horizon. Ewan waited, praying for God to give him the desire of his heart.
MacDougall sighed in a great gust. “I mark your words, Ewan. I knew your family, good people. I’ve always been sorry for your loss. But unless you can earn seventy dollars by Kate’s Christmas birthday, I cannot agree to a match.”
“Seventy dollars?” Ewan had never earned so much in all his fiddling days. He barely had fifteen dollars to his name, and it needed to last the winter. To suggest a lesser amount, however, would insult Kate and worsen his chances. He swallowed across an enormous lump in his throat. “It’s a deal. Seventy dollars and Kate will be my yuletide bride.”
The older man winced. “I’m sorry it has to be this way.”
Ewan put out his hand. MacDougall shook it.
“Know this, Ewan,” MacDougall said as they walked to the tables. “Josiah Finch has already asked.”
Chapter 2
Kate tried to be patient, she really did, but she hadn’t spent any time with Ewan since he’d finished the June planting and left to find work. She could hardly wait to play her flute and accompany him on his fiddle. It had been hard to sit still in church, she so itched to join him. Perhaps Reverend Cummings would let her sing next week with Ewan. Without Ewan’s music, the long summer had been empty and quiet.
She paced along the edge of the grass, watching Ewan and her father. What could they be discussing to take so
long? Josiah could swoop in and spirit her away if Ewan didn’t hurry.
“Malcolm,” she whispered. Her brawny older brother always smelled of his prized horses. “Go distract Josiah.”
He grimaced. “What can I talk to him about?”
“Tell him about your team.”
“He doesn’t want to talk to your brother, but I’ll try.”
Kate closed her parasol and thrust it at him. “Take this with you and tell him it needs to be tweaked. He loves to pretend he can fix things.”
With a grunt, Malcolm strolled to the well-dressed young man loitering at the lemonade table. Josiah eagerly snatched the parasol to examine it while her brother stood motionless and awkward, hands in his pockets. Kate glanced back to the church where Ewan and her father shook hands.
Kate took a deep breath and felt the pinch of the new stays. Her blue silk dress belled out in the breeze, and the scent of ripening corn filled the air. The busiest time of year was coming. Would Ewan have time to play?
Ewan carried his battered fiddle case and rubbed his chin with his right index finger as he walked across the grass. Ewan’s hands were always in motion, practically a blur when he played a fast tune.
He set down the case, propped his hat on top, and took her hands. She rubbed his finger calluses even as she felt an unexpected jolt at his touch. “Why so sober? Can my father not help you?”
“In this one, no.” His sky-blue eyes looked troubled, his black brows tense. Ewan’s shoulders had broadened during the summer though he still stood only several inches taller than Kate. His confident merriment usually buoyed her, but today he seemed tentative.
“What is it? Do you need a place to stay?”
He shook his head. “Reverend Cummings has given me the extra room in his barn. It’s a good place for now. But not for the future.” Ewan wrinkled his tanned forehead.
“Mama’s made fried chicken and her featherlight biscuits. I churned the sweet butter myself. Let’s fill our plates and you can tell me about your summer. Where have you been?”
“I must speak with you alone.”
She dimpled. “Here I am. Speak away.”
Ewan swallowed and lowered his rich tenor voice. “Haven’t we always made beautiful music together?”
“Yes.” Mirth bubbled.
“Would you like to do it forever? With me?”
“Of course.”
His mouth dropped open. “Then you’ll do it? Just like that?”
“Play music with you? Of course. I’ve missed you so much. I made three new reed flutes this summer, but it wasn’t the same without you here.”
Ewan squeezed her hands. “No. I mean, yes. But that’s not what I’m asking.”
She scrutinized him. His thick black hair was rough with curls, but he gazed with such intensity and, could it be, longing? Josiah stared at her the same way, as if he would swallow her whole. She always slipped away from him, uncomfortable. But this was Ewan with whom she’d laughed, sang, and fluted so many happy days.
She caught her breath at a new thought.
Ewan took a matching breath.
Kate gripped his hands as the idea surged through to her soul. “Are you asking me to wed you?”
His hands shook, and he nodded.
She leaned toward him. “Were you discussing marriage with Papa?”
He nodded again. She’d never known Ewan to lose his tongue.
Excitement poured through Kate. If she married Ewan, dear, darling Ewan, they could have a home of their own filled with music. Ewan could fiddle every night and she would accompany him. Music would surround her all day long. The children they could produce, musicians all!
“Oh, Ewan,” she sighed. “Most definitely, yes.”
“It’s time for the potluck, Kate.” Josiah’s deep voice, a bass, broke into their conversation. “I’ll escort you.”
Dazed, she faced him. “What?”
“Sunday dinner.” Josiah pressed his lips together in disapproval. “You played well today, Ewan.”
“Thank you. Kate is dining with me.”
“With me.”
Kate cut them off. “With both of you. Shall we get our plates?”
Her heart beat so fast, Kate thought she would faint. She led the two men—suitors, she realized—to the potluck line. Her father waited with arms crossed.
“Papa, do you know?”
“We’ll discuss this later. Reverend Cummings is about to pray.”
As it did no good to antagonize Josiah or his family, Kate followed him to a seat with Ewan right behind. “We need three seats together, Josiah.”
Josiah waved his free hand. “Ewan can sit anywhere.”
“I’ll bring a chair from another table.” Ewan set down his plate and retrieved it.
Josiah scowled until he realized how close Kate needed to sit to him.
As she nestled between the two handsome men, her toes danced in her slippers. She yearned to hear Ewan’s stories, listen to his fiddle, and dream about the future. Stories about the summer would do for now. She’d spent so much time listening to Josiah talk about his activities, he could listen to Ewan’s adventures with her. “Tell me where you’ve been,” Kate asked at the same moment Josiah demanded, “Why did you come back?”
Ewan’s eyes twinkled at Kate. “I’ve played for summer dances and church festivals in four counties. One of the camp meetings featured a choir of plump women who loved the fiddle. They sounded splendid and full voiced on ‘My Faith Looks Up to Thee.’ I kept looking to the sky myself, thinking Jesus must have been smiling down.”
Josiah tried again. “What will you do in Fairhope?”
“I’m looking for work. Do you have a job I could do?”
“What can a fiddler do other than play his toy?”
Ewan stuck out his chin. “I have a teaching certificate. I’m good at ciphering. I can work in a store, help with the harvest. Tomorrow I’m teaming with Malcolm to haul a wagonload of goods to Sterling.”
“You are?” Kate squeaked. “Malcolm will be so pleased.”
Josiah relaxed. “Is that what you were discussing with Mr. MacDougall?”
“Yes.”
The stilted conversation continued. Josiah expounded on issues at the small bank where he worked in Clarkesville, the county seat, and his travels around the county “drumming up” business.
“So you don’t live in Fairhope?” Ewan asked.
“I ride the train home on weekends to worship in this fine church.” He paused. “And to see Kate, of course.”
She blushed. He’d begun paying attention to her only since her schooling ended in June, and had shown a marked interest when she put up her hair.
“I think you’d enjoy living in Clarkesville, Kate.”
Kate frowned. She hated it when Josiah acted pompous. “I’ve never given Clarkesville any thought. I love Fairhope. I know my neighbors here.”
“But you’re so friendly and welcoming. I’m sure you’d be popular wherever you lived.”
Kate didn’t know how to answer. She touched Ewan’s arm and stood. “Could we sing? Get your fiddle and we’ll start a sing-along.”
Ewan retrieved his instrument. He rosined the bow and quietly began a favorite: “In the Sweet By and By.”
“There’s a land that is fairer than day,” Kate sang.
The folks still sitting under the trees sang in four-part harmony. Ewan’s fiddle led the melody, and they sang for half an hour.
Kate swayed with the tunes. When she met Ewan’s gaze, happiness coursed through her. Surely helping Ewan lead worship is what God had created her to do.
They packed up the baskets and their possessions as the afternoon grew late. First Josiah and then Ewan pressed her hand, promising to call later. Kate sighed as her family carried baskets full of leftovers, plates, cups, and cutlery down the wide dirt road to their home behind the mercantile.
“Ewan said he spoke with you, Papa. I’m so happy.”
“What di
d he say?” Mama asked.
Papa shifted the basket from one hand to the other. “He’ll ride teamster with Malcolm tomorrow. I’m paying him five dollars for the trip.”
“Great,” Malcolm said.
Kate set her jaw. “He asked for my hand, Papa. I told him yes.”
Mama gasped.
Kate turned toward her. “You know I’ve always cared for Ewan.”
She nodded.
Papa’s brows drew together. “There’s a catch, Kate. He cannot marry you unless he’s earned seventy dollars by your eighteenth birthday.”
Kate went still. So much money! No wonder he’d seemed worried. She drew herself up tall. “I have confidence in my Ewan. He’ll earn the money, and I’ll be a Christmas bride. I know it.”
Papa raised his eyebrows. “We’ll find out, won’t we?”
Chapter 3
Ewan met Malcolm behind the MacDougall Mercantile early the next morning. They filled his wagon with a pickle barrel, crates of dry goods, bags of flour, and other staples. Malcolm retrieved his well-brushed horses, harnessed them to the wagon, and they set off on the long dusty road to Sterling.
Already, farmers worked their fields, preparing for the harvest. A torrent of jackrabbits scattered as they passed. Calling birds sailed on the wing as the sun rose slowly in the eastern sky. Ewan savored the cool, fresh scent of a September morning.
“You still got your mare?” Malcolm asked.
“Yep. Tess is cropping grass in the Reverend’s back forty today. We traveled a far distance this summer.”
“I remember when your pa got that horse. I never saw one so beautiful in my life. You let me know if you ever want to sell her.”
His throat thickened when he thought of his parents now two years gone. “She’s a beauty all right.”
Malcolm nodded. “I’d rather spend all day with a horse than sit in the mercantile. If my pa has his way, I’ll go crazy.”
Ewan watched his old friend chew on a piece of fresh straw. “What’s the problem?”
“I never did learn how to cipher. The numbers swim in front of me and I get lost. Horses are better. They don’t care if you can add or subtract.”
The 12 Brides of Christmas Collection Page 54