Soonie covered her face with her hands and staggered over to Lone Warrior, who sat, cross-legged, by the fire.
He took her hands. “You’re trembling. Get closer to the fire.” He kissed her forehead. “I’m glad you made it back. We were about to head to Bastrop.”
A spark of anger flared up, overtaking her relief. She sat back and glared at him. “You mean to say they were going to throw you over a saddle and let you ride back to town?”
“That plant must have helped. My shoulder’s feeling much better,” Lone Warrior protested.
“What if you started bleeding again?” Soonie stood, fighting an urge to stomp her foot. “I’ve never heard of such a thing. I’ve brought you a buggy.”
Zillia pushed in the door, with Pastor Fowler and Mr. Rawlings right behind.
Pastor Fowler removed his hat and ran his hand through thinning hair. “Praise the Lord, it’s a Christmas miracle!”
Zillia rushed over to Wylder and hugged him. “I missed you,” she said. “Don’t ever go away again.”
“Only if I have to rescue my sister,” he promised.
“Zillia, this is Lone Warrior, my husband,” Soonie said.
Lone Warrior reached out with one hand, winced and lowered his arm. “I don’t intend to be impolite. It’s nice to meet you.”
“I’m glad to see you’re doing better.” Zillia smiled. She looked around the cabin. “I’m sure this is better than the plain ground, but what a dirty place. Let’s get you home before the entire house falls down.”
Lone Warrior insisted he could walk to the buggy, but Pastor Fowler and the sheriff helped him along.
Soonie gathered the few supplies they had in the cabin and poured the rest of the water on the fire. “Thank you, little cabin,” she whispered before she closed the door. “You might be shabby, but you were here at just the right time.”
11
At the Hearth
When the buckboard clattered up to Grandma Louise’s house, she was standing on the front porch, hair bound up in its usual mound of braids, hand shading weary eyes. She looked older, shrunken into herself.
Soonie popped up over the side of the wagon. She and Lone Warrior had ridden in the back with the children.
As the old woman’s eyes fell on her granddaughter, she sagged into a chair on the porch. She brought her apron up to her face, and her shoulders heaved. Soonie ran over, held her grandmother close and stroked her hair, as though she were the child.
“They said you were all right, but I couldn’t believe it until I saw for myself,” said the elderly woman in a muffled voice.
Grandpa Walt rode up and pointed over to the scene on the porch. “Guess she’s glad.”
Zillia hopped down from the wagon to retrieve the children.
Patsy and Orrie were wrapped in blankets in the wagon bed, playing a game of patty-cake.
“Come on children, let’s get inside and warm up a bit before we go home.” Zillia had given Wylder a few details about Patsy but she hadn’t had time to tell the whole story. He’d agreed, in an absent-minded way, to let her stay until Christmas.
Margo was sleeping on Lone Warrior’s good shoulder.
He smiled. “She’s a sweet little thing. You and Wylder are blessed.”
They’d had to stay in town for a while until the doctor finally came back, weary from delivering twins. Though the new doctor didn’t know Soonie, he hadn’t batted an eye when they’d brought Lone Warrior into the clinic, much to everyone’s relief. After cleaning the wound, he’d nodded to Soonie. “The bullet went right through, that’s a mercy. But he would have bled out if you hadn’t known what to do. Now there isn’t much left to fix, it’s closed too much for stitching. It doesn’t seem to be septic.” He’d given them a packet of powder, “to dull the pain a bit. But you might just want a bottle of whiskey.”
Wylder came around the wagon. “I’ll take the baby.” He pulled Margo from Lone Warrior’s arms. “Might as well come meet Grandma.” His voice was gruff.
What’s his problem? Can’t he just be happy everyone is safe? Zillia rolled her eyes and helped Orrie and Patsy out of the wagon.
After a morning of travel and uncertainty, the warmth of the house felt like arms embracing them. Soonie introduced Lone Warrior to Grandma Louise, Henry and Will.
Grandma Louise wiped her tears and took a few deep breaths. She bustled around, lighting the candles on the Christmas tree and slipping warm cookies and hot drinks into cold hands while everyone told stories of the day.
Finally, she perched on the edge of her seat like a nervous little bird. “I’m thankful to have you home.” She folded her hands over her apron, embroidered with traditional red and pink Swedish flowers. “Lone Warrior, you are welcome in this family.”
“Thank you.” Lone Warrior’s eyes traveled around the room. “It’s good to be warm and dry.
Soonie gave an account of their adventures. Everyone gasped when she told of the evil men who had shot Lone Warrior.
Grandpa Walt pressed his fingers against his cheeks. “It’s a sad story, but it happens more than you think. The sheriff’s told me of black folks he’s found strung up in trees, and no one knows who put ‘em there. Mexican people beaten for thievery with no proof, and people don’t do anything about it. Even if we found those men, Soonie, and you identified them, they have a fish feather story that would hold up in a court of law. Just ‘cause it’s the way of things.”
Soonie sighed. “I know, Grandpa. It’s the world we live in. I think it must make God sad, since He made all of us.”
“We’ve all had our troubles.” Grandma Louise traced the embroidery on her apron with a wrinkled finger. “When Walt and I came to this country, we couldn’t say more than ‘hello’ in English. We had some money, but were scared to death to spend anything for fear of being robbed. I’ll never forget how it felt, standing on the shores of New York with a wagon’s worth of belongings and no idea how we’d get to Texas. We might have had white skin, but we had strange clothes and customs, and people treated us like cockroaches.”
Zillia sat still, listening to the stories. And all this time I felt sorry for myself for being poor. I never had anyone throw me out of a place because of poverty. Those men--We could have been planning a funeral, if it wasn’t for Soonie’s friend who taught her what to do and God’s good mercy. She glanced over at Wylder. He stared into the fire, his face drawn into a scowl. I wonder if he realizes how ridiculous he’s being. She put her face in her hands. He’s been patient with me when I made mistakes. I’ll just have to wait for him to come around. Hopefully it will be soon.
Wylder stood and stretched, still not making eye contact with anyone in the room. “It’s time we get these children home. What do you think, Zillia?”
Zillia glanced out the window. The sun was getting low in the horizon. She squeezed Soonie’s hand. “I can hardly bear to leave you, but we’ll be back tomorrow.”
Soonie nodded. Her eyelids fluttered and she smiled a sleepy smile.
“You must be exhausted,” said Zillia. “We’ll come in the afternoon. I’m sure Grandma Louise will let you sleep in tomorrow. And what’s the day after that?” she asked Orrie, who was curled up next to her feet.
“Christmas!” he shouted.
Christmas in two days. Zillia surveyed the room. And now everything will be perfect.
###
Christmas Eve was spent in a whirlwind of preparation. Patsy helped Zillia in the kitchen and with Margo. Wylder and Orrie brought in load after load of firewood to keep the old stove hot and ready to bake.
“Henry said he’d show me some kitties in the barn today,” said Patsy, as she dusted flour over the table. “He said they were just born.”
“How sweet,” said Zillia a bit absentmindedly. The caramel on the stove was almost thickened, and she had to stir it at just the right speed or it would burn.
“I have a kitty,” said Patsy. Her eyes widened. “I have a kitty, and she’s at Granny’s
house. I forgot all about her. Oh Mrs. Eckhart, what if she’s frozen to death?” Tears began to stream down the little girl’s face.
“Oh, dear.” Zillia whisked the caramel off the stove, poured it in a pan, and put the kettle in the washbasin. She wiped Patsy’s tears with the corner of her apron. “How big is the kitty? Is it a baby?”
Patsy snuffled. “No, she’s a big grown-up cat. She’s white and her name is Feather.”
“In that case, she’ll probably be fine. If she’s lived at your granny’s this long, she probably hunts mice and has a nice cozy corner of the shed to sleep in.”
Patsy’s face brightened. “That’s true. But what if she’s lonely? I bet she misses me.”
Zillia patted her shoulder. “How about if we stop by your granny’s house tomorrow? The boys can help you look for your kitty. If you find her, you can bring her back here.”
“That sounds good,” said Patsy slowly. She went over to the washbasin and washed her hands and face.
Children’s troubles. Zillia shook her head and smiled. If only everything could be solved by a kitten, no one would have any problems left to face.
###
That afternoon, everyone was once again assembled into Grandma Louise’s living room.
Grandpa Walt brought down the old Swedish Bible, the fragile pages so thin they were almost translucent. Painstakingly, he translated the Swedish words into the age-old story, the birth of the Christ child, just as he did every Christmas Eve. Other family members owned English Bibles, but the story seemed more special this way.
After a few hours of talking and singing Christmas carols, Zillia noticed Margo’s eyes drooping. She went to a back bedroom and sank into the rocking chair with her baby, humming to her the same songs she used to sing to Orrie when he was an infant. The sky glowed red through the window. “Christmas Eve,” she sang quietly. “Something’s magical about Christmas Eve.”
A gentle knock came at the door, and Soonie slipped in. She was back in her buckskins again, and her eyes were much brighter than the day before.
“I hope I’m not disturbing your baby. Just wanted to spend a little time with you.”
“Of course not,” Zillia said. “I’m glad you did.”
Soonie sat down on the floor, hugging her knees to her chest like she always had when they were little girls. “Can you believe we’re so old? And married now?”
Zillia shook her head. “I remember when I used to go to weddings with my parents when I was younger. I always envied the brides in their dresses and veils, with everyone making a fuss over them. I thought it would be forever before it was my turn. And now sometimes it seems like I’ve been married my whole life.” She sighed. “I love your brother, but sometimes he can be so stubborn!”
Soonie played with the fringe on her skirt. “Yes, he’s already spoken to me about my ‘foolhardy decisions.’ One thing I know about Wylder, he only makes a ruckus over someone when he really cares about them. I know if I’m patient, God will show him the truth.”
“I know,” said Zillia. “Patience is not one of my strengths.”
“You had the patience to carry this little one for nine months.” Soonie touched Margo’s hand.
“She was definitely worth the wait.”
The door to the bedroom burst open. The baby started in Zillia’s arms and began to cry.
“Orrie,” Zillia hissed. “What on earth? Margo was almost asleep.”
Orrie’s eyes widened. “Sorry, Zillia, but Wylder told me to tell you. We can’t find Patsy. I think she ran away.”
12
Rescue
Zillia carried Margo into the big room. The adults stood in the corner, talking in hushed voices.
Wylder touched her shoulder. “Orrie said they were playing with the kittens in the barn, and Patsy mentioned she needed to go find something. They didn’t think anything of it until they realized she’d been gone for a while. When Grandpa came out, he noticed the smallest lantern and a box of matches were missing.”
“She might have gone back to your house, Zillia” said Grandma Louise. “It’s not far, and if she had the lantern, she could make her way even in the dark.”
“Or she could have gone to her granny’s.” Zillia tapped her chin. “She was telling me about a pet cat there. Maybe she decided to go find it on her own.”
“I don’t know where Mrs. Barnes lives, so I’ll take Will and Henry to look at your house,” Grandpa Walt offered.
“I’ll take care of Orrie and Margo here. Lone Warrior and Soonie can stay and rest,” said Grandma Louise.
Soonie came behind Zillia. “I want to go with them. I’ve rested plenty.” She patted Lone Warrior’s hand. “Is that all right with you?”
“Be careful.” Lone Warrior took her hand and kissed it.
The corners of Wylder’s mouth drew down into a frown. Taking Zillia’s hand, he pulled her outside. “Do you think it’s safe for him to stay here with Grandma?” he whispered to her.
“Wylder Eckhart! I can’t believe you would say such a thing! For one thing, he’s wounded. I don’t think he’s capable of making much trouble. He seems like a good person. Soonie obviously thinks the world of him.”
Wylder grunted, turned on his heel, and moved towards the barn with swift strides. “Let’s take the horses instead of the wagon,” he called over his shoulder. “They’ll get us there faster. Since she went on foot, we might even catch her on the road.”
Soonie joined Zillia, and they went to the barn to help Wylder. In a short time, the horses were saddled and bridled, and they were on their way.
Wylder brought the big lantern, holding it high as they rode. Dim moonlight filtered through the clouds with little effect. But the horses knew the road well, and the mud had dried in most places.
“Oh, I hope we find her.” Zillia shivered beneath her shawl. “It’s cold out here and she’s such a little thing.”
“She seems pretty capable, though,” said Soonie. “Wylder and I used to camp way out in the woods when we weren’t much older.”
“What’s going to happen to her?” Wylder asked. “I mean, if her grandma doesn’t get better?”
“I don’t know. Her mother took the baby and ran off with some man. Her brother and sister are staying with her aunt. Mrs. Fowler said it’s possible all of the children will have to go to an orphanage in Austin. But that would be just awful,” said Zillia. She batted her eyelashes at Wyler.
“I know what that look means.” Wylder gave a wry smile. “And I know what you’re thinking. We do have room for another, and one extra mouth wouldn’t be much. But all three?” He shook his head. “Why don’t we wait until after Christmas and see what happens with her granny?”
“If you saw the inside of that house, you wouldn’t want to send her back there.” Zillia wrinkled her nose. “It was awful.”
Soonie drew her horse up closer to Zillia’s. “I don’t know how people can raise children in places like that,” “Even on the reservation where most families have nothing, the women work hard to keep everything sparkling clean. And when someone is sick, all the families pitch in to help.”
“That’s just it. We offered help several times. The old woman refused it. You saw Patsy, she’s just skin and bones. Though I’ve done my best to fatten her up the last few days.”
“She is pretty skinny,” Wylder agreed. “We’ll see. The most important thing tonight is to bring her back to warmth and light.”
A mile from Mrs. Barnes’s house, the horses began to nicker and toss their heads. Zillia’s mount danced across the road, and she had to dig her heels into the round flanks to get him to settle down.
“Think there’s a bear or cougar up ahead?” asked Zillia.
Soonie shook her head. “Probably not in this cold. But something’s wrong.” She stopped and sniffed the air. “Do you smell that?”
Wylder pulled down his muffler. “Smoke. And more than a campfire. I’d say a building was on fire.”
And now they could all see the red glow above the trees.
“It has to be Mrs. Barnes’s house,” shouted Zillia. “No one else lives out that way.” She clicked her tongue and urged her horse forward. Soonie and Wylder’s horses thundered behind her.
An orange glow spilled out over the trees, cloaked in thick smoke, like a giant dark beast with a furnace in its belly.
Zillia shouted, “Faster!” to her horse.
“Careful,” shouted Wylder, “Milo is high strung!”
The words whipped past her in the night, but she paid them no heed.
When she reached the yard, the air was thick with smoke. Frightened chickens scurried by in the direction of the river. Milo reared back, but she kept her seat and patted his neck.
The entire back end of the dilapidated farm house was engulfed in flames. The front door yawned open, orange flickers lighting up the inside.
Zillia dismounted and tied her horse to a fence post, praying it wasn’t too rotted to hold the animal. She ran towards the house, cupping her hands around her mouth. “Patsy!” she called. “Are you here?”
“Mrs. Eckhart!” A voice floated down from somewhere high above her. “Mrs. Eckhart? Help! Please!”
Wylder and Soonie’s horses reached the yard, and the brother and sister swung down and joined her.
“I hear Patsy, but I can’t see her. Wylder, you have to help me!” Zillia shouted above the crackles and screams of the wood.
“Please help me!” The voice was a bit louder now.
“If she can see us, we should be able to see her.” Wylder walked closer to the house, scanning the building. “Patsy, where are you? Call out again!”
The limbs of a giant oak several yards from the house rustled, and Patsy’s white, tear-streaked face appeared in the farthest reach of the lantern light.
“We’re up here.”
Sparks and flaming debris fell dangerously close to the branches of the oak. It could catch fire at any moment. “Patsy, you have to climb down!” Zillia shouted.
The River Girl's Christmas (Texas Women of Spirit Book 4) Page 7