“I don’t know.” She turned to him and asked, “Why? Do you think it will take that long?”
“No. I still think we’ll be seeing those puppies in the next forty-eight hours, but I’ve been watching that sky. Think we’re in for a strong snow storm. Signs are pointing to it.”
Clara looked north, noticing little more than a hazy overcast and a watery sun. “What signs?”
“Animals moving down in more numbers than usual. Elk and deer. Saw a moose yesterday.”
She wrapped her fingers tight around the handle of her valise. “So, it might snow us in?”
He hitched a shoulder. “Might. Might not. Just could indicate a harsh winter ahead.”
She was glad for the wool coat and the glove she’d purchased last week. The socks she’d borrowed from Mr. Kincaid had convinced her to buy the practical wool gloves.
Mr. Kincaid pursed his lips as he slapped the reins against the rump of the plodding horse. “Hope it doesn’t snow that hard before Christmas. Mrs. Hartmann would be disappointed if Evan and the little girl didn’t make it to the ranch for Christmas.”
“Oh. I hadn’t thought of that.”
“That’s because you haven’t been at the ranch this week. The women can’t talk about anything else.” He laughed again. It was a deep, pleasant laugh.
“If it snows hard, what will happen to Jessie’s party plans?”
“I don’t think I want to be anywhere near that kitchen if it does,” he said.
Jessie threw up her hands when Clara walked through the kitchen door. “I’m so glad you came.” She called through the open door to the front room. “Lena, Clara is here.” Jessie rolled her eyes. “We’ve had our hands full trying to entertain the twins while I get things ready in here for our Christmas party, and Lena finished up Rebecca’s room.”
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to visit Daisy first.”
“Oh, sure. Won’t that be a treat to have puppies for Christmas? That might just keep the twins quiet for a few hours.”
Clara slipped into the barn, finding Daisy asleep on her blanket. Mr. Kincaid’s dog was curled in the straw a few feet from her, but he looked up as she approached, ears alert, eyes warily watching her as she stepped into the stall. “Hello, Alec. Are you looking out for my Daisy?”
The male padded to her side and sniffed her fingers.
“You remember the sausage, don’t you? I’m sorry. I didn’t bring any this time, but I’ll see if I can find something in the kitchen. There’s certain to be something Jessie can spare.”
Daisy responded to Clara’s voice and lifted her head, her mouth opening wide in an indisputable smile. Clara dropped to her knees beside her and scratched beneath her chin. “How are you, my girl? Mr. Kincaid says this will be over soon.”
Clara stroked Daisy’s velvet paws and hummed a lullaby she remembered from childhood.
“That’s nice.”
She looked up to see Graham Kincaid standing outside the stall with his elbows looped over the top rail. “Did you tell Alec to stay with her?”
He shook his head. “No. That was his idea. He seems to have accepted the responsibility of looking out for her. Part of his nature, you know.”
“Thank you,” she said.
“For what? I haven’t done a thing yet. I expect she’ll work it out by herself when the time comes.”
Clara rose to her feet and brushed hay from her skirt as she walked out of the stall. She was close to him now, and it was pleasant to be near him, the shepherd with the calm voice and gentle manner. “Still, I’m grateful you’re here with her.”
He turned his head to her, his eyes holding hers for a long, unnerving moment. “I’m glad to be of service, Clara.”
It was the first time he’d used her name. She’d never heard it spoken in such a way, his Scottish brogue giving it the same genuine quality as his laugh. Her heart skipped a beat, its tempo altered for a tantalizing moment of pondering what if.
Reading from a book that Tommy had selected, Clara sat on the braided rug in Tommy and Rowena’s bedroom. Both children were already nodding off to sleep in their beds. She felt satisfied that she’d accomplished her purpose and kept the children entertained for the afternoon. Judging from the delicious aromas drifting upstairs from the kitchen, her efforts had given Jessie and Lena time to make a fair amount of progress.
She sat for a time, listening to the children’s soft breathing. How sweet they looked in sleep. It was a marvel to her that any mother could maintain the energy to keep up with them when they were awake. And yet, in sleep, how angelic they appeared. She rose and pulled the quilts about the shoulders of both children. Tommy immediately thrashed in his sleep and kicked his cover away.
Tiptoeing to the window, she looked at the view of the valley stretching out to the Big Wood River. Night had fallen while she’d read, and snow with it. Flakes drifted past the window, becoming more numerous even as she watched. Mr. Kincaid’s prediction had been correct. Although the thought of spending more time with the man no longer offended her, she was glad that they’d not have to return to town tonight. She smiled. In fact, she very much hoped they’d have more time to build the new direction of their relationship.
From her vantage on the second floor, she could see a portion of the barn. Lantern light shown through the open door. Was Mr. Kincaid checking in on Daisy? With a start, she considered what the light might mean, and she headed for the door. Once downstairs, she took only a moment to grab her coat and slip into boots before heading for the barn.
“Good girl. It’s okay.” Graham’s voice came from the back of the barn, the lantern light reflecting off the rafters.
Clara tiptoed into the stall and slipped to her knees. Graham looked up, giving her a reassuring smile. “See, my girl, your mistress is here.” The words, so softly spoken, held the same appealing quality as before, sending shivers along Clara’s arms.
She stretched out her hand to stroke the dog’s head but hesitated, looking up at Graham for his approval. He smiled and gave her a slight nod. Daisy rolled her eye to look at Clara. She was panting so hard that Clara was certain things must not be as they should. Alarmed, she shot a questioning look at Graham. “Is she dying?”
He smiled again, that slow soft lift of his lips, a look of calming reassurance. “Not at all. It’s all natural, my girl. All natural. Everything as it should be.”
She wasn’t sure he was speaking to her or the dog. But his eyes were on her, and not Daisy.
The next hours were some of the most memorable Clara had ever known. Repulsion at the sight of blood turned to euphoric delight at the sudden appearance of life, squirming and ugly in first moments of breath. When the first puppy appeared, she’d held back a childish impulse to squeal with joy. Seeing a similar boyish expression on Graham’s face, they’d shared a smile.
Four damp mops of fur lay beside Daisy. Clara had followed Graham’s example, using towels to clean each one before helping them latch onto their mother for nursing. Each step of the process had taken her through an extreme range of emotions and physical reactions.
As Clara tucked her legs beneath her skirts and lay her head back against the wall, she sighed watching as Daisy nursed her four healthy puppies. Graham sat on the opposite side of the stall, his sleeves rolled up, exposing powerful forearms. Something inside her reacted to the physicality of the man, an unexpected response, and it disturbed her into looking away.
“She did well,” he said.
Clara lifted her gaze with some reluctance, uncertain of these unfamiliar emotions. She quickly shifted her attention to Daisy. “That one on the right, the smaller one, is she healthy?”
“Aye. She’s the runt, but I couldn’t see anything wrong with her aside from her size. She may never catch up, but there’s no accounting for the heart.”
“What do you mean, heart?”
“Sometimes the smallest one of the litter can surprise you with its sheer determination to survive. I’ve seen it b
ecome a trait for life.”
“I wonder if that’s true of people too.”
He chuckled, a deep and satisfying sound. “Aye, I expect for some.” He tipped his head back against the stall, closing his eyes.
“You look tired.”
“It’s been a long day,” he said without opening his eyes. “But it ended well, and there’s a blessing.”
She studied him for a long while until his breathing slowed and his chest rose and fell to the steady rhythm of sleep. He was so unlike the men she’d known and observed in her sheltered life. Her family would have called him rough, perhaps even uncouth. In fact, such had been her initial opinion. Was her opinion altered because of sheer physical attraction, or was there something more about the man’s character that drew her? They had so little in common. Or was there more, perhaps even within her, she did not comprehend as yet?
Clara pushed herself to her feet, stifling a groan at the tingling numbness in her legs. She took a step, lifted a folded blanket and shook it out. Then, with great care not to disturb his sleep, she draped the blanket over the man’s shoulders. She stared down at him for a moment more, tempted to brush the lock of fair hair from his forehead, before tiptoeing from the stall.
Chapter Sixteen
DECEMBER 24, 1891
The storm came silently in the night, so that the household awoke to a thick blanket of snow covering the landscape, all sparkling in full sunlight.
“It’s a fairyland,” Clara murmured to herself as she stood looking out of the frosted windows in the great room. For a moment, the spell of it held her there, frozen like the frosty landscape. Then, recalling her first morning thoughts of visiting Daisy, she turned and dashed through the empty kitchen. Grabbing her coat and ramming her feet into the oversized boots, she pushed open the back door, stepping out into the sparkling morning. She gasped at the chilling air filling her lungs.
There were tracks through the snow from the house to the barn. No doubt, Bart was up and already at his chores for the day. She followed in his tracks, managing to keep the knee-high drifts from dumping snow into her boots. A few yards beyond the house, the tracks forked, one set leading to the horse barn, the other to where Daisy and the pups slept.
Light streamed into the barn from the open door. A soft bark came to her as a greeting. Daisy and her pups were curled up in the corner. More blankets, including the one she’d placed across Mr. Kincaid’s shoulders, now made a larger bed for her. Clara turned at the sound of footsteps, but she was disappointed to see Bart and not Graham approach the stall.
“They look mighty fine. Your girl threw some good-looking pups,” he said, grinning, and looking like his rambunctious son, Tommy. “I know Jessie and the children will be interested to see what Santa brought in the night.” He hooked his elbows over the top rail. “Do you know what you’ll be doing with them all?”
Clara sat close to the nest of blankets and reached cautiously over the pile of pups to stroke her Daisy’s head. “I’d like to give one to Rebecca if Mr. and Mrs. Hartmann approve. I know Mr. Kincaid is interested in them to help Alec next year.” She looked up with a sudden thought. “Are you interested in one for your twins?”
Bart’s face screwed up into a grin that was part grimace. “Can you imagine my Tommy taking care of a pup? He’s a little too young. But if Graham keeps them for the herd, I’m sure the children will still enjoy them. They’ll grow up together. To be honest, I’d rather they were Graham’s responsibility and not mine.” He laughed. “I’ve already got my hands full of growing pups.”
By mid-morning, the trail between the house and the barn was well packed down. Jessie and Lena carried the children out to see the puppies, but only after warning them to keep their voices to a whisper. When the whispers became piercing squeals of delight, Bart stepped in and whisked them back to the house. The ranch hands straggled in during the morning to take a peek at the pups, their weather-worn faces all creasing with smiles.
And still, Mr. Kincaid had not come to the barn. Reluctantly, she left Daisy snuggled with her pups and returned to the house.
Jessie was standing with Lena staring out the windows when Clara stepped into the welcome warmth of the kitchen. Jessie wore a pout of disappointment. “If we get any more snow, no one will be willing to travel this far from town,” Jessie said. “And all that food.” Her voice trailed off in a heavy sigh.
“I doubt we have to concern ourselves with that, Jessie. The men won’t let the food go to waste.” Lena turned a worried face to the window again. “I’m not even sure Evan could make it through the drifts.” She swept up Rowena as she ran, giggling past her on a noisy game of chase with her brother. “He’d probably stay in town, rather than risk getting stranded with Rebecca out in the cold.”
“I could ask Bart to go into town.”
Lena shook her head. “No. There’s no reason to send him out. We don’t even know if Evan’s arrived at the station. Maybe I should have gone in a few days ago and stayed with Maddie and David. I’d at least have known when they returned and we could have shared Christmas together.” She turned a sad smile to Jessie. “Reality rarely measures up to our expectations, does it?”
Clara cleared her throat. “Good Morning.”
“I didn’t see you come in,” Lena said. “That’s a special Christmas gift your Daisy gave you.”
Clara considered this for a moment. What right did she have to separate Daisy from her pups? But the reality was, she couldn’t keep them, and she’d need to find good homes for all of them. “Actually, I wanted to ask you how you felt about giving one of the puppies to Rebecca.”
Lena’s eyes brightened. “Really?” She spun to Jessie. “Wouldn’t that make her feel she had something of her very own? Far better than a stuffed animal to cuddle.” She glanced back at Clara. “Are you certain you want to part with one?”
Clara laughed. “What am I going to do with four puppies? And I know you’d provide for it. I’d love to give one to your little girl.”
By late afternoon, snow was falling once again, light fluffy flakes that looked harmless enough. But as the hours passed and the flakes continued to add to last night’s accumulation, Lena’s face grew more concerned. It was Jessie who broke the gloomy atmosphere, when she asked, “Who wants to decorate the cookies?”
Lena sighed and pulled up a smile. “You’re right. There’s no reason to spoil the day by waiting for Evan and Rebecca.”
“That’s right. In fact, they may be eating cookies and cider right now with Maddie and Dr. Reynolds, all snug and warm, sitting in front of their fireplace.” Jessie lay her hand on Lena’s shoulder. “Maybe the snow will stop tonight.”
Clara glanced out the window, thinking that even if it stopped snowing, the drifts would keep Mr. Hartmann in town. But Jessie was right. For the children’s sakes, they had to celebrate.
With fingers and faces smeared with sticky frosting, the children gazed up in wonder at the tree dressed with dancing gingerbread men. Twilight fell as gently as the snow, and still Evan had not returned. Clara watched as Lena struggled to hide her disappointment. Although she read to the children, her voice lacked its usual animation. And Clara frequently caught her casting glances to the window with its view to the road snaking through their valley.
“I think I’d better serve supper, Lena,” Jessie said with a face creased with sympathy. “The ranch hands are going to be powerful hungry if we wait any longer.”
Leaving the children in Clara’s care, Lena followed Jessie into the kitchen.
As the men joined them around the long dining table, the noise and conversation increased, raising everyone’s spirits. Jessie’s usual effervescence returned as she served up slices of roast beef and rich gravy, vegetable souffles, and thick slices of crusty bread. With each dish, the volume of their conversation rose.
Clara still wondered at Mr. Kincaid’s absence, finally finding the courage to lean over and ask Bart at the dining table, “Is Mr. Kincaid all right? I
haven’t seen him all afternoon.”
“He’s been out tending a sick ewe since late morning, out in the sheep barn. I’m not sure anyone thought to tell him to come for dinner,” he said, looking embarrassed for having forgotten. “I’ll go out and check on him.”
Jessie called from the kitchen, “Bart, would you cut the turkey?”
Bart shook his head. “How many courses did the woman plan?”
“I’ll go. You help your wife,” Clara said, even as she said it wondering if it was prudent.
“You sure you want to? The temperature is dropping again. I could send one of the men.”
“I’d like to check in on the puppies again, and I can take him a plate of food.”
Bart looked uncertain, his eyes darting from the kitchen and back to Clara.
She laughed. “Don’t worry. I’ll dress warm and take a lantern so I don’t stray into a snow drift.”
He gave her a nod of thanks before heading off to the kitchen.
The sheep barn was well out from the house, being the most recently constructed. She followed the tracks in the snow until she saw light streaming out through cracks around the windows. The door creaked as she opened it and stepped inside. “Mr. Kincaid, are you here?”
“Back here. Watch your step. The straw hasn’t been mucked today.” His deep laugh reached out to her from the back of the barn. “You might end up with your boots caked with more than snow.”
She held the lantern before her, navigating through the sheep. He was standing at the back of a smaller stall tucked under the sloping eaves. She stopped at the gate, feeling rather foolish holding the plate when she realized he’d have nowhere clean to set it. “I brought you a little dinner.”
“That was thoughtful of you. Thank you.” He took the plate from her and she pulled a fork from her pocket, passing it to him. It didn’t seem to bother him that there was no table or chair, and he must have been hungry, because he dug in eagerly.
“What’s wrong with her?”
A Hartmann Ranch Christmas Page 9