Christmas Under Western Skies

by Anna Schmidt

  “That’s barbaric,” Lucinda Putnam exclaimed.

  Glory rolled her eyes. “And how, may I ask, is that any more uncivilized than grown men racing each other to the bride’s house for the reception, just so they can be the first one there and win a kiss from the new bride?”

  Emma tapped her pen impatiently on the counter. “We were discussing what our dear Julianne is to wear.” She studied the shelves behind her that held bolts of fabric in all the colors of the rainbow.

  “I can wear my Sunday green,” Julianne said. “At least that’s one decision we don’t have to fret about.”

  “Absolutely not,” Emma exclaimed. “I will not hear of it.” She took down a bolt of fine wool in a pale rose.

  “White is out of the question, of course, but this…”

  Glory ran her palm over the fabric. “It’s beautiful.” She unwound several yards and let the fabric spill over her tall frame. “Look how it drapes.”

  Julianne lightly ran her fingers over the fabric. She couldn’t help thinking how Nathan’s eyes would light up, seeing her in such a beautiful gown. But he would love her no matter what she wore, and the price of fabric, not to mention the time it would take to sew the gown, was just impractical.

  “No,” she said firmly, and turned her attention to the bolts of lace trimmings. “Perhaps a lace cap.”

  “That, too,” Glory said, testing the rose wool against several of the lace patterns. “Something a little heavier, I should think.” She looked at the other women who all nodded in agreement.

  “Yes, that cream is perfect,” Margot said. “Come over here, Julianne, and let me see it against your skin in the daylight.”

  Before Julianne could stop them, her friends had gathered around, draping the rose fabric over her shoulders and letting it flow to the planked floor of the mercantile, and then unfurling several feet of the lace to cover her golden hair.

  “Perfection,” Lucinda murmured. “The captain will be quite overcome when he sees you.”

  All of the women giggled like young girls, and Julianne could not help smiling. “I suppose I could sell—”

  “You will sell nothing,” Emma exclaimed, her expression one of horror. “This is our wedding gift to you, dear. Am I not right in saying that, ladies?”

  The others nodded. “I think six yards will do,” Glory announced, laying the bolt of wool on the counter and measuring out the yardage.

  “And perhaps two of the lace?” Margot suggested.

  Again, nods all around, and Julianne accepted their incredible generosity, for she understood that it allowed them to play an active role in the wedding—and what woman didn’t enjoy that?

  “Thank you all so much,” she said, hugging each of her friends in turn. “You have made me so happy.”

  “Well, that was the point,” Emma huffed. “Now, we have a good deal of work to complete, ladies. Shall we divide the tasks?”

  In short order, Emma had handed out the assignments. Glory would make the gown with Lucinda’s help. Melanie was to take charge of flowers and Margot the making of the headpiece.

  “And you, Mother?” Lucinda asked.

  Emma sighed. “I shall do what I always do, child. I shall make sure it all gets done.”

  All of the women burst into laughter, and after a moment of trying to hold her composure, Emma joined them. These dear women had become more than just her friends, Julianne realized—they were more like family.

  The days seemed endless to Nathan, in spite of the fact that Julianne hinted that there simply were not enough hours to do everything that needed to be done for the wedding. What did he care of flowers and food and music and such? All he wanted was to stand before the makeshift altar and pledge himself to Julianne—and the twins—for the rest of his days.

  “Who will say the words?” Franz Hammerschmidt asked one morning, as the men gathered around the stove in the mercantile, their feet stretched out toward the stove. This was a winter morning ritual, as they smoked their pipes and cigars and considered the problems of the day. “You can hardly marry Julianne and stand in the pulpit at the same time,” the German farmer reasoned.

  “I could do it,” the circuit judge, Matthew Farnsworth, said. “If you can’t get the circuit preacher here in time, I have to power to perform weddings.”

  “We figured, if he couldn’t make it on New Year’s we’d just delay the wedding a week or so, but Mrs. Cooper and I would be honored to have you marry us, sir,” Nathan said. “After all, she was so grateful for your counsel regarding the orchard and how it would qualify as a crop.”

  Jacob poured himself a tin cup of coffee from the pot on top of the stove. “We’re all going to have to stop calling your bride by her former name,” he reminded Nathan, and all the men chuckled.

  Julianne Cook, Nathan thought and smiled.

  “What about the twins?” Another man asked. “You planning to adopt them and give them your name as well?”

  “That’ll be up to them,” Nathan said, and he did not miss the way the other men glanced at each other in surprise. In their world, the man was the head of the household, the one who made the decisions that mattered. But Nathan had considered the way Julianne had been pretty much on her own for the last year. Would it be fair to suddenly walk into her cabin—her life—and expect to simply take over?

  “The twins will have time enough to get used to having me around full-time,” he told the others. “No need to rush anything.”

  Several of the others nodded as if Nathan had presented a concept they had never contemplated, but one that seemed to have some merit.

  “Any of those seeds the ladies planted for Julianne showing signs of life?” Jacob asked, after the group had sat in comfortable silence for a long moment.

  “Not so far,” Nathan admitted.

  Franz frowned. “It’s been what—three weeks?”

  “Something like that. They’ll come along,” he said. “It’s a long winter.” But he couldn’t help wondering what he would do if the seeds did not germinate. The fields would have to be planted, and he knew very little about such things. Before the war he had studied to become a minister.

  “You could move into town once we get the church built,” Jacob said, as if reading his mind. “I don’t see why we shouldn’t build a little house behind the church—a parsonage.”

  “No. We’ll live on that land,” Nathan told them firmly. “And we’ll make it work.”

  Sam Foster nodded approvingly. “And you can count on us to be there to give you a hand,” he said.

  Jacob cleared his throat and took down a large hatbox from a shelf near the circle of friends. “Nathan, we thought maybe you could use this—consider it a wedding present, if you like. The main reason is that we wanted to find some way to let you know that we’re real pleased you’re going to stay and fill the pulpit for us permanently.”

  Nathan opened the box and took out the black Stetson. “It’s a perfect fit,” he said, as he tried it on, “just like me, with all of the good people of Homestead. I thank you, gentlemen, for everything.”

  Later that evening, while Julianne told the children a story and tucked them in, Nathan couldn’t help surveying the cluster of tin cans that cluttered the two deep window wells. Each can was filled with dirt. Each can was carefully labeled with the date of planting. Not one showed the slightest sign of life.

  He was so deep in thought about the responsibility he would be taking on in just two days that he was startled when Julianne came up behind him, wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her cheek against his back.

  “You’re very quiet tonight,” she said, her voice muffled against his shirt.

  He turned so that he could hold her. “Just thinking about the day after tomorrow,” he said, forcing a lightness into his voice that his anxiety for their future could not entirely disguise.

  Julianne look up at him. “Nathan, we don’t have to do this, you know. If you’re having second thoughts about the promise you
made to Jake—about…”

  He kissed her. “Shhh,” he whispered against her hair. “I fulfilled that promise. I found Jake and we are in touch. In the spring you and I will go west and make sure that he is well settled and at peace.”

  “And if not?”

  “Then we will bring him back here with us. He is my brother, Julianne, but you are going to be my wife, and the twins will be our children. I will not abandon my family as my father did his.”

  “He didn’t really—”

  “Yes, he did. He left Jake no choice but to leave. He was always so insistent on being right.”

  “Still, from everything you’ve told me, he was a good provider—a God-fearing man.”

  “And that is where he and I differed. The god he followed was an angry and vengeful god.”

  “And what do you believe, Nathan?”

  “I believe that, when all else seems lost, our faith can see us through anything—war, the loss of loved ones. Anything. God is love, Julianne. I believe that with all my heart.”

  He did not ask the question uppermost in his mind. What do you believe? He knew that she and her first husband had been devout churchgoers and that after Luke’s death she had made sure the twins attended church regularly. But what did she believe?

  As if she had read his mind, she cupped his face in her palms. “There was a long period after Luke died when I turned my back on my faith, Nathan. I locked my heart away and refused to allow myself to be comforted by the words of the scriptures or the teachings of the minister who conducted services.”

  “And now?”

  “That first Sunday, when you spoke about the losses of war, I felt something. It was as if there had been the slightest loosening of bonds that had held me so tight for all the months since Luke’s death.”

  “What was it you felt that day?”

  “When you spoke about the war and the things you had seen, I felt as if finally someone understood. I felt for the first time in months that I was not alone.”

  “But you were never alone. You had Glory and Sam and—”

  “Spiritually speaking, I was alone because I had made that choice. Remember that day you came here to ask what I had thought of your service? I did not tell you that I had for the first time in all those long and terrible months thought about others who had suffered, instead of dwelling only on my own suffering and that of my children.”

  Nathan hugged her to him. “You are going to be a wonderful preacher’s wife,” he said.

  She laughed and tweaked his nose. “Let’s see how I do as your wife before I have to live up to such a lofty title as ‘preacher’s wife’.”

  “I love you, Julianne. I promise you—”

  She placed her forefinger against his lips. “Sh-hh,” she whispered. “No need for promises. Love is enough.”

  And, in that moment, Nathan had never been more sure that God had led him to this place, this woman, and the sacred promise of the life they would share.

  For January, the weather was unusually mild—above zero, according to Sam, who had arrived early to take Julianne and the twins to town. There, Julianne was to change into her wedding finery at the Putnam home, and then Jacob and Emma would drive her and the twins to the school, once Sam had assured them that Nathan was waiting inside with Judge Farnsworth.

  “It does not do for the groom to see the bride on their wedding day,” Emma had lectured both Julianne and Nathan at the dinner Glory gave for them the evening before.

  “Why not?” Luke asked. “They see each other all the time.”

  “It’s simply tradition,” Emma told him.

  “And traditions don’t always make a lot of sense,” Sam added, “but you learn not to question them.”

  Luke shook his head and rolled his eyes. “Grown-ups,” he muttered.

  “Of which you will be one someday, young man,” Emma said, effectively silencing the boy, who had clearly never considered this.

  Now, as Julianne put on the beautiful, rose-colored gown Glory had stitched for her, and turned so that Emma could place the lace headpiece over her curls, she found herself thinking years into the future. She saw Nathan walking Laura down the aisle of the new church the town planned to build. She imagined other children—those she and Nathan would have together, attending their older sister. She saw Luke, serious and proud like his father had been, with a home and family of his own.

  “I’ll get your flowers,” Emma said with a sigh that said, if she didn’t do everything herself it would not get done. Alone with Glory, Julianne stared at her reflection in the mirror.

  “I never imagined,” she whispered.

  “That you would marry again?”

  “That I could be so happy,” Julianne corrected, her eyes welling with tears of joy as she hugged her friend.

  “Now stop that,” Glory fussed, wiping away tears from Julianne’s cheeks with her thumbs. “You have surely been blessed to come to this day, and it’s a blessing we all share in seeing you and those dear ones embarking on this new life together.”

  “The sleigh is here,” Luke bellowed from the foot of the stairs.

  “Off you go,” Glory said, giving Julianne one last quick hug.

  The school had been transformed with ribbons and candles. Laura was holding a nosegay made of dried herbs, and in the vestibule of the school Emma handed Julianne a similar bouquet, enhanced by sprigs of evergreen.

  “Ready?”

  Julianne nodded and Emma opened the doors a crack and signaled the organist. As soon as they heard the whoosh of the pump organ’s bellows, Emma opened the door fully and signaled Laura to start down the short aisle.

  Luke moved to Julianne’s side and offered her his arm as Emma had taught him to do. “Ready?” he asked and grinned up at her.

  Julianne was through the door and partway down the aisle before she looked up and her eyes met Nathan’s.

  In his gaze she saw so much—the days and months and, God willing, years they would share. The children she hoped they would raise together. The community they would embrace and help build. And most of all the blessing God had bestowed upon both of them.

  God had not turned His back on her, she realized, as she had thought when Luke died. She was the one who had turned away. God had been there all along, patiently waiting for her to come back to the faith of her childhood.

  When she was almost to him, Nathan stepped forward and took her hands in his, and together with Laura and Luke, the four of them walked the rest of the way together.

  The moment the judge pronounced them husband and wife the hall erupted with noisy celebration. The organist pulled out the organ stops assuring the sound would crescendo to its full volume. On both sides of the aisle, women laughed and chattered and men grinned and clapped each other on the backs as if they had just seen a favorite son married. And in the midst of it all, Nathan beamed down at Julianne as if he simply could not believe his good fortune.

  “You’re supposed to go,” Luke coached, tugging on Nathan’s trouser leg. “Miz Putnam said—”

  “First they have to kiss,” Laura corrected her brother, “and then they leave.”

  The twins looked up at their mother expectantly.

  “Miz Putnam has spoken,” Nathan said, and held out his arms to her.

  When they kissed there was a shout of approval from the men and shushing from the women, but when they turned to make their way back up the aisle, everyone was smiling at them and several women were dabbing at their eyes with lace handkerchiefs.

  Emma had insisted that she and Jacob host the wedding reception. “Your home is serviceable, Julianne, but hardly large enough for such occasions. Besides, this way those fools intent on racing to be the first to kiss the bride will have a shorter distance in which to break their necks.”

  As it turned out, Sam Foster was the first man through the door, other than the bridal couple and their hosts.

  He seemed inclined to ignore the tradition, but young Luke called him on it.


  “You have to kiss Mama—it’s tradition,” the boy instructed.

  Sam leaned in and gave Julianne a dry peck on her forehead. “Be happy, child,” he muttered.

  “I am,” she promised, as she caressed his weathered cheek. “Thank you, Sam, for everything.”

  “It should be Glory and me thanking you. You and Big Luke made us welcome on the trail out here, and now here you are starting fresh.”

  At that moment, the entrance to the large house was filled with guests all jostling for a position to extend their best wishes to the bridal couple before moving on into the Putnam dining room for an impressive spread of food.

  “How come me and Laura have to stay with Miz Foster tonight?” Luke asked when a quiet had fallen over the room as everyone ate.

  “Laura and I,” Julianne corrected automatically. “And it’s because…” She faltered for the best explanation, looking to Glory for help.

  “It’s tradition,” Glory said. “Now eat your supper or there will be no cake for you, young man.”

  “But—”

  “Come on,” Laura said, nudging her brother into the next room. “Let’s go sit on the stairs. I’ll explain it all to you later.”

  The rest of the reception went by so fast it was as if Julianne and Nathan were living in a dream. Before they knew it they were being bundled into the Putnam’s sleigh. Jacob handed Nathan the reins. “See you tomorrow,” he said. He gave the horse a smack on its rump and they were off.

  “I like your hat,” Julianne said, suddenly shy with her new husband.

  “The men gave it to me—a wedding present.” He was nervous as well, and that was comforting to his new wife.

  She placed her gloved hand on his and he glanced at her and smiled.

  By the time they reached their farm, Julianne’s head was resting on his shoulder and she had given into the overwhelming exhaustion of an exciting day.

  Nathan reined the horse to a stop and kissed her fore head. “You go on in,” he said. “I’ll unhitch the horse and see to the other animals.” He climbed down and came around to lift her to the ground.