A Hartmann Ranch Christmas

by Samantha St. Claire

  She laughed this time.

  “My mother is to blame for that, I suppose. She was in the habit of quoting other people’s words whenever she wanted to make a point with us, my sisters and me.” He touched a finger to his temple, saying, “She had a library of proverbs up here, along with a few generations of distinctly Scottish wisdom.”

  “How many sisters?”

  “Three girls, all older than me.”

  “Are they still in Scotland?”

  “Aye, along with a perfect dozen of nieces and nephews.”

  “I have an older brother, much older. We were never close,” she said wistfully. “I always wondered what it might be like to have had a sister to confide in.”

  “Confiding in a sister wasn’t something a self-respecting lad was likely to do.”

  She laughed. “I suppose not.”

  The terrain changed, the trees taller, burying their roots in the steep hillside. Clouds still hovered in the crags and peaks far to the north. But the air turned from brisk to bitter as the winds increased. Graham noticed Clara tucking the blanket tighter to her sides.

  He thought about how his mother had taken to dressing her girls in pants beneath their skirts when the seasons turned bitterly cold. The girls thought it humiliating, but at least they were warmer than those only wearing drafty skirts. And they rarely came down with the colds their classmates did. He felt a pang of sympathy for the girl beside him, and pulled up the reins on the draft. “Looks like there might be a few to pick from here, don’t you think?” He tipped his head to a stand of evergreens.

  Clara nodded, her lips looking less rosy than when they’d started. As he helped her from the wagon, it surprised him to see her wearing only thin cotton gloves, prompting him to ask, “Are those the only gloves you have?”

  She glanced down at her hands, before shoving them into the pockets of the oversized coat. “I’m fine.”

  Graham reached into the wagon bed and pulled out a rucksack. He rummaged around for a few minutes before pulling out a pair of woolen socks. “Here. Try these.”

  Confused, she looked up at him for explanation. He wiggled his fingers. “Put them on over your gloves.”

  She wrinkled her nose.

  “They’re clean. Wool will do a lot more to keep your fingers from freezing than those you’re wearing.”

  He couldn’t help but smile as he cast a glance back over his shoulder. She made quite a comic sight with the coat hanging down to her knees and man-sized boots sticking out beneath her skirts. Somehow, she still looked attractive. Had that confounded Mrs. Long won!

  Graham took mercy on the poor girl as she trudged gamely behind him, never once complaining about the rough footing or steep slope. He stopped, glancing back at her. She was standing, looking up at a copse of stately elms. He followed her gaze, seeing little that would have captured her attention. A few yellow leaves clung stubbornly to thin branches.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “Listen,” she breathed.

  Their steps had led them to a small vale, protected from the winds. He listened.

  She met his inquiring gaze and whispered, “I heard a leaf fall.”

  He watched her face, her lips parted in a kind of wonder. She was like a child, discovering a new world. She dropped her gaze from the tree canopy to look at him. “You think me silly.”

  Shaking his head, he answered quietly, “Not at all Miss Webster. I find your delight in such things encouraging.”

  Tipping her head to the side, her expression became a question. “Encouraging?”

  “Yes.” It was all he chose to give her in response.

  A few yards beyond, Graham pulled up, allowing Clara time to catch up.

  “Did you find one?” she asked, breathing heavily.

  “What do you think?” He waved a hand to a fair number of young spruce trees. “Any of these fit the bill?”

  With her sock-covered hand, Clara brushed hair from her face, studying them. “I should think so. They’re certainly tall enough to please Jessie.”

  They stood for a time, silently assessing the merits of each tree. Suddenly, they said in unison, “That one!”

  Clara turned to him with a brilliant smile. “I think that might be the first time we agreed on something.”

  He laughed, the sound scaring a crow from a nearby pine bough.

  Graham had less trouble cutting the tree and pulling it down the hill than he did trying to squeeze it through the front door of the ranch house. But he’d had the horse to help him drag the tree. Only after he’d enlisted Bart’s help did the tree arrive inside the great room. After another half-hour of positioning and repositioning, the tree stood upright where all three women agreed was the perfect location. Filling the house with wonderful aromas of pine and pleasant Christmas memories past, the tree took center stage from that moment.

  Lena picked up Rowena and twirled with her in a circle around the tree. “Isn’t it beautiful? And tomorrow we will begin to dress it.”

  The child cocked her head, tugging at a strand of Lena’s hair, and asked, “Dress it?”

  Lena laughed. “Yes, dress it, but not the way you dress your dollies.”

  “Or your kitty,” Jessie quipped from across the room.

  “We’ll string popcorn and berries for garlands. And your momma will bake gingerbread men to hang from its branches. Won’t that be wonderful?”

  Rowena turned her large blue eyes to the evergreen, with its top branch brushing the ceiling, looking grand and regal. She tried to repeat the word, only managing a portion. “Wonder.”

  Clara stood to the side, silently observing this happy scene, her face soft and reflective. She turned her gaze to Graham and they exchanged a smile.

  As they returned to Ketchum, Graham couldn’t keep from stealing glances at Clara sitting relaxed beside him. There was a glow on her cheeks that the brisk temperatures couldn’t account for. This was something within her. He wondered if it was some memory or hope that the day had sparked to life. She swung her head to him, and he looked away, turning his gaze to the mule pulling the wagon.

  “Mr. Kincaid, I spoke with Mrs. Reynolds this morning about—” She hesitated. “About the puppies. She told me that Dr. Reynolds thought you might be better prepared to take care of her when—”

  “When she’s ready to birth them?”

  Her cheeks blushed a fetching shade of pink as she dropped her eyes to her folded hands. “Yes. He thought if there were any complications, you might have the experience to handle them.” She said the last in a rush of words.

  “I’m flattered the doctor thinks of me in such a way.” He thought for a time about the occasions when he’d helped deliver pups. It’d been a far sight better experience than tending cows with his arms bloodied to the elbows. He hoped she wasn’t one of those women who fainted at the sight of blood. “Are you asking for my help, then?”

  She turned a hopeful face to him. “Would you?”

  He could have refused. If something went wrong, she’d likely blame him. But those eyes, as soft as a doe’s, made refusal impossible. “I’d be glad to help.”

  “I would be devastated should anything happen to Daisy.” Her voice broke as she said this, and she turned away.

  She really was a lovely young woman, and despite misunderstanding the needs of her dog, she wasn’t without heart, just good sense.

  Chapter Fourteen

  DECEMBER 21, 1891

  Friday had been an agony for Clara as Graham Kincaid had driven away with Daisy watching her from the back of his buckboard. How could Daisy understand Clara’s abandonment of her? She’d cried herself to sleep that night, hugging her pillow as a poor replacement for her dear Daisy.

  Saturday she’d tried to put on a cheerful face for customers as they complimented her on the window display. Shoppers strolling past the shop window stopped, their faces becoming animated like those of the children. Despite the cold, people stood for long periods, studying each scene an
d excitedly pointing out details to each other. Everyone seemed to be in the Christmas spirit but her thoughts continued to circle back to Daisy.

  By Sunday, Mrs. Reynolds’ tolerance for Clara’s glum mood reached its limit. Sitting across from her at breakfast Maddie said, “All right, Clara. Enough is enough. Your rain cloud of gloom is no longer raining only on you. Dr. Reynolds has informed me that he wants to make a brief house call on a patient near the Hartmann ranch. He said he’d drop us off at Lena’s place and return when he’s finished. Would you like to go with us? You can visit Daisy.”

  “Oh, could we? Thank you.” In a tizzy of excitement, Clara tucked a breakfast sausage into her handkerchief as an offering of appeasement to her dog and ran upstairs to change.

  That afternoon, as the carriage pulled into the yard between the Hartmann ranch house and barn, not even Alec ran out to greet them.

  Graham came sauntering out of the bunk house as Clara climbed down from the carriage. She called out to him, “Where’s Daisy? Is she all right?”

  He looked surprised to see them. “Last time I checked, she looked fine.”

  “The last time you checked?” Maybe she’d made the wrong choice after all. At least, Dr. Reynolds would have known where his patient was.

  The man shrugged and tipped his head to the open barn door. “She’s been bedding down with the milking goats the last two nights. It’s warm in there with the cows and goats putting off their own heat.”

  She started for the barn. “Why would you leave her outside? She’s not used to it. She sleeps in a bed!”

  The barn’s interior was lit only by the two open doors. And Mr. Kincaid was right about that. It felt warmer than the yard. She heard a rustle at the back of an empty stall. “Daisy?” A shaggy black and white head stuck out of the open stall gate, not Daisy’s but Alec’s.

  Clara’s eyes still hadn’t adjusted to the light, but the familiar bark led her inside. Sitting on a heap of blankets, Daisy rolled her eyes in Clara’s direction. “There you are.”

  She lowered herself to the thick bed of straw and pulled the sausage from her pocket. “Here you go, girl. I brought your favorite.”

  Daisy bit off half and swallowed it.

  “Don’t you want the rest?” She flinched as she felt warm breath on her neck and turned to see Alec sitting with his mouth open and eyes keen with interest. “You think you should have some too?” She turned to look at Daisy, who seemed uninterested in the other half. But that was impossible. She loved sausage.

  “I think she intends for Alec to have it, don’t you?” Kincaid chuckled from where he stood outside the stall. “They’re chummy. They behave more like they were litter mates. Makes you wonder.”

  “Wonder what?”

  “I don’t know. It’s probably nothing. But they seem almost. . . bonded.”

  “How’s she doing? Will it be soon?”

  Kincaid drew a calloused thumb down his cheek. “I’d say a few more days. I tried to get her to bed down in the bunkhouse, but she took a liking to the goats and the barn. Makes me wonder if she was born on a farm, at least, somewhere out in the country. Where did you say you found her?”

  “In an alley. She was so weak, I had to carry her back to my hotel room.” She dropped her voice, and spoke to the dog as though sharing a secret with her. “Had to sneak you in the back door, didn’t I?”

  “That’s when you were traveling here? How’d you manage that? Traveling with the dog.”

  “I had to delay my trip until she was strong enough to travel.” She looked over at him, frowning. “I couldn’t just leave her.”

  “Nope.” He looked thoughtful, studying her in that intense, unnerving manner that reminded her of Alec as he watched the sheep. “It was a good thing you did. She’s a bonnie lass. And I can see she’s beholden to you.” He scooted up to the stall wall and sat with his back against it. Alec settled next to him, putting a protective paw on Graham’s leg. “I know you weren’t too keen on my idea of buying the pups. But I’d provide them with all they’d need and plenty of good work. And if you weren’t inclined to sell them all, perhaps I could convince you to part with just one.”

  Clara didn’t respond immediately. She didn’t hesitate because of any remaining distrust of the shepherd. On the contrary, she was certain he would take care of them. It just seemed wrong somehow, to rob Daisy of her puppies. “Don’t you think she’d miss them?”

  His lip twitched with a cautious smile. “She wouldn’t have to give them up until they were weaned. She could visit them as often as you’d be willing to make the trip.”

  “I know I can’t keep them.” Clara ran her fingers along Daisy’s side, feeling the movement roll beneath her touch.

  “You’d be giving them a good life,” he said softly.

  She nodded, and turned to him. “But may I make a request?”

  “Sure.”

  “The Hartmann’s little girl, Rebecca. I’d like to give her the pick of the litter.” Clara looked down at the dog’s head resting in her lap. “I know how much comfort Daisy is to me. A little girl of six, coming to a new place and not knowing anyone, might need a puppy to cuddle.”

  He seemed to study on this for longer than she thought necessary. At last, she saw the wrinkles crease at the corners of his eyes. “The thought had occurred to me. I’m glad it came to you as well.”

  Clara shared the smile with him. “That makes the second time we’ve agreed on something.”

  “When was the first?” he asked.

  “The Christmas tree.”

  “Ah, yes. Seems there’s a new trend in our relationship.”

  There was something positively electrifying in his observation and his choice of the word relationship.

  “Oh, these are delightful!” Lena opened the cover of the first book. “Thank you, Maddie.” She brought the book to her chest and hugged it. “I so want her to love it here.”

  Maddie sat on the flowered quilt covering Rebecca’s new bed. “How could she not? Just look at this room! It’s more inviting than our bedroom in that big old drafty house we live in.” She picked up the stuffed rabbit from in front of the pillow and hugged it. “Now that Evan has found Rebecca, how long do you think it will be before they can come home?”

  “His telegram was brief but I think they’ll be returning as soon as he has the proper documents signed. It could be as soon as a week.” Lena fingered the cover of the next book. “I feel like a child at Christmas. So many hopes and expectations that I fear may never measure up to reality.”

  Lena allowed her eyes to scan the room again, trying to see it from a child’s perspective. “It turned out rather well. Clara’s paintings are delightful. But I wonder if it isn’t all, well, overwhelming. That’s what Mr. Kincaid said the other day. He thought everything here, the ranch, the lodge, all was so big and imposing.” Lena slid the book onto the top shelf of the bookcase and reached for the second one. “What if it all overwhelms her? She’ll be frightened.”

  “But it isn’t the room or the house, Lena. You should know that. What’s going to make her love being here is the love that will surround her from the moment she enters your home.”

  “Is it enough?”

  “I know it is. It’s your loving heart that healed my brokenness. The first time I’d ever felt accepted for who I was, not who I pretended to be, was in your home. You and Evan have something special, and this home . . . well, you can feel it when you walk through the door. It’s magical, Lena.”

  “That’s kind of you. You understood my dream.”

  “And you’ve achieved it.”

  Lena warmed at Maddie’s compliment, believing the words were honestly spoken. “But I still worry about trying to take the place of her mother—”

  “That’s not your job. You aren’t taking someone else’s place. You can’t. Just be who you are. Love her the way you love all of us.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  “Of course, I am.” She pushed h
erself to her feet, giving Lena a conspiratorial grin. “Just like I was right about our two love birds out in the barn. You’ll see.”

  “You’re incorrigible, Maddie.”

  “Yes, I think I am.” Maddie looked about the room and pursed her lips. “I think it might be time to employ Miss Webster’s decorating skills in our nursery.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  DECEMBER 23, 1891

  Three days had passed and still no word had come from the ranch about Daisy’s condition. The bookshop had been too busy with customers buying Christmas gifts for Maddie to spare Clara for even a few hours. But on Tuesday, the rush for last-minute purchases appeared to have passed. Maddie conjectured that the ladies of Ketchum might be otherwise engaged in their kitchens cooking for the holiday. Maddie didn’t have the heart to refuse when Mr. Kincaid showed up midday with a note from Jessie pleading for Clara’s help to supervise the children.

  Maddie told her that afternoon. “Don’t worry about rushing back. The sun sets so early these days, that I’d rather know you were safe at the ranch than traveling back in the cold and dark. I’m certain Lena would be happy to provide you with a room. After all, lodging is her business.”

  “Are you sure you can spare me?”

  Maddie glanced down at the day’s receipts. “Quite sure. Besides, I can get a lot done on my next book with the shop so quiet. I might even close for the rest of the week. In fact, I shall. Go on. Don’t keep Mr. Kincaid waiting. You might even be there when Daisy delivers her pups.”

  Clara made a face. “It’s nothing I’ve ever seen before. And I’m not sure I have the constitution for it.”

  “Neither do I,” Maddie said, frowning. And she lay her hand on the small bulge now stretching her skirt.

  “I was a little off on my estimate,” Graham said as she settled herself beside him on the wagon seat. “Shouldn’t be more than a few days.”

  “How does she look? Is she still in the barn? Is Alec still staying close?”

  Graham laughed. “She’s doing well and yes, Alec stays very close.” His gaze shifted to the small valise she carried. “You have enough in there to stay through Christmas?”