Under The Kissing Bough: 15 Romantic Holiday Novellas

by Kathryn Le Veque

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Barrett could not stop stealing glances at the lovely creature walking on the other side of Mrs. Withers. Although it was obvious she’d been in distress by the sadness in her swollen eyes, it did not distract from her beauty.

  Although Maggie Henderson was quite attractive, Danny, the mercantile owner’s son, had been right. Christina Mills was probably the prettiest woman in Blanchard Creek now.

  As they approached Mrs. Wilkes’ back door, he considered excusing himself after greetings were exchanged to eat in the front room with the other customers to allow the women privacy.

  The aroma of meat and spices wafted through the air and his stomach grumbled. His lips twitched when Mrs. Withers giggled. “Hungry, Barrett?”

  “Yes, Ma’am.”

  He knew Charles Bloom had been forward with Christina. The man was known for having a roving eye. The accusations Cornelia had made were preposterous. It was more than obvious, Christina Mills was a well-born woman, with impeccable posture and manners. Now, she’d been subjected to the worst as soon as arriving at Blanchard Creek. No wonder the woman’s eyes were swollen. No doubt, the experience had been traumatizing for her.

  Somehow, he hoped it was possible to comfort her. It relieved him to know they headed to Mayme’s house. If anyone could put a person at ease, it was her.

  Christina held her breath as they arrived at the large but humble house.

  An attractive, older, black woman greeted the group with loud welcomes and hugs. As she enveloped Christina in her arms, she fought the urge to weep. It had been so long since anyone consoled her.

  Immediately, the feeling of belonging surged in her chest and she relaxed against the woman for far too long. Barely releasing her Mrs. Wilkes let her inside. For whatever reason, sitting in a chair in the large kitchen was the most comfortable she’d felt ever.

  Mrs. Wilkes seemed to understand everything she’d been through without having to hear a word. She bustled about with another younger woman quickly dispatching Barrett to the front room with a plate heaping with food.

  “This is woman talk, Baby, you go up front and sit by the fireplace. Don’t try to sneak out. I’m rubbin’ that side of yours before you go home.” She leaned at the doorway watching him limp away and shook her head.

  “If that boy ain’t healed by now, ain’t nothin’ goin’ to fix him,” she muttered more to herself than to the other women.

  “What happened?” Christina seized the opportunity to ask.

  “The war. He was shot to pieces tryin’ to save a friend. Funny thing. His friend is right as rain and my poor baby is marked for life. But he did a good thing and the Lord knows him for it.”

  Mrs. Wilkes offered them food, but Olive declined. “We can’t possibly, which I hate because you know how much I adore your cooking. Nan is excited to cook for more than just me and Judge today.”

  They were served tea and a plate of biscuits before Mrs. Wilkes finally settled into a chair. A soft smile on her lips, she looked to Christina. “Looks like it’s been a hard few days, dear. But you’ve got a good friend at your side. I hope to become your friend now, too.”

  Unable to keep from it, Christina burst into tears. Through sniffles and blowing her nose, she told them what happened at the hotel. With gentle prodding, she revealed everything, starting with her home life, the potential disastrous marriage and on through the loss of her belongings. When Christina finished speaking, she felt remarkably light. Her head bent, she waited for whatever they would say.

  “That woman is blind. Or pretends to be.” Mrs. Wilkes shook her head and tsked. “Don’t worry, Christina, no one will believe her accusations if she makes them public.”

  Olive let out a breath. “Unfortunately, if she speaks out about it, people won’t allow Christina to work at the schoolhouse.”

  “I can do other things. I’m not afraid of hard work. I’ve worked most of my life.” They had to help her. She needed to find a stable place to live until her intended responded to the letter. His instructions were to find her there in Blanchard Creek.

  “Will you tell us who you wrote to?” Olive asked.

  Christina shook her head. “It would be too humiliating if he doesn’t reply. I would rather wait. This way, you won’t know who it is.”

  “Of course, dear.” The woman looked less than convinced. “How long should we give him, Eudora?” Olive asked Mrs. Wilkes. “I say we consider letting it be known, in a discreet way, of course, at church on Sunday, that our new lovely friend is searching for a husband.”

  Her eyes widened and Christina sputtered in protest. “I am not sure...”

  Mrs. Wilkes looked to Olive in thought. “Yes, of course. It will be done in confidence, of course. Perhaps to Judge’s mother.”

  “I am not certain...” Christina said.

  “What a wonderful idea. She will ensure the proper people are informed and it will come across better,” Olive responded, interrupting Christina.

  The women continued scheming while Christina looked from one to the other, agog. Whatever happened, the plan was in motion to get her settled.

  “Now, for the time being, you will live with Judge and me, of course,” Olive informed her.

  Mrs. Wilkes nodded. “You will work here in the afternoons startin’ tomorrow. Laddie and I sure could use the help.”

  Olive tapped her shoulder playfully. “Don’t cry anymore. Things will work out. You’ll see.”

  Her load lighter, she drank her tea only to stop when Barrett appeared, his gaze moving over them as if to gauge if it was allowed for him to enter.

  “Yes, Baby, come on in.”

  It was interesting to note the mother-son interaction between Mrs. Wilkes and Barrett. He carried his plate to the sink and looked to where his dog slept by the door, a large empty bowl he’d eaten out of beside him. “Thank you for the meal, Mayme. I should go.” He pronounced the term of endearment “may me” when referring to her as if she were his mother, the name soft on his lips.

  “No you don't. Get up those stairs. I’ll be up shortly,” Mrs. Wilkes instructed and he cleared his throat, his gaze flicking to Christina before back to Mrs. Wilkes.

  “Yes, Ma’am.”

  Her stomach flipped at his close inspection. When he looked to Olive, his lips curved. “Good day, ladies.” He limped out of the room.

  “A new doctor is coming to town. Perhaps he can help Barrett with whatever happens,” Olive stated. “I hear he was taught in New York City.”

  Mrs. Wilkes smiled broadly. “Good news, indeed.”

  CHRISTINA, A BRIDE FOR CHRISTMAS

  CHAPTER NINE

  After Mayme’s rub down, Barrett had not lingered. If he allowed sleep to overtake him, he’d be late arriving home and there was much to bed done to dawdle about town.

  The sun was low in the sky when Barrett finally made his way toward the stables. I had been a few days since checking the post for any news from back home and he always wondered how his family fared. His brother and sister remained back east in Virginia and although their parents had passed, there were still aunts, uncles and such to keep abreast about.

  Life back in Virginia seemed as if another’s life. He’d never once considered returning. It wasn’t his life any longer.

  The post office was a small building just steps from the stables and he entered the cramped space to find Sam, the postmaster, fast asleep behind the counter. The older man leaned against the wall, head back and mouth wide open.

  Barrett cleared his throat, hesitating at the doorway to make it seem as if he’d not noticed the man who jerked awake. “Good day, Sam.”

  The man’s head jerked up and he blinked toward him. “Hello there, Barrett. Good thing you stopped by. You have two letters here.” The man yawned and turned to his back wall of tidy boxes and extracted the envelopes. “Fine day, indeed.”

  After a short exchange of pleasantries, Barrett finally retrieved his horse so he and Fella could head home. The ent
ire way home, his mind was full with everything that had transpired during the day.

  Thankfully, he’d received enough furniture orders to keep him busy through the winter. In two weeks, it would be Christmas. He was almost done with the gifts he was making for his closest friends, which would leave him the rest of the winter to complete the Downeys’ order of a dining table, chairs and a bookshelf.

  An hour later, after settling the horse, he and Fella sat before the fire in his living room. Barrett reached into his pocket and retrieved the letters. One was from his sister and another from an address in Pennsylvania. Interesting as he didn’t remember knowing anyone there.

  Although he considered opening the unexpected one first, he decided to read his sister’s.

  The news from his family set him at ease. His sister and her brood of six did well and his brother was set to marry his long-time sweetheart. They hoped, of course, he’d return for the wedding and Barrett considered it.

  Finally, he lifted the other letter. For some odd reason, it filled him with trepidation. Why would someone from Pennsylvania write?

  Mr. Alexander Patterson,

  I am writing to you in regards to your ad in the Matrimonial Gazette, with interest in matrimony.

  My name is Christina Elizabeth Mills, the only daughter of a well-positioned family here in Philadelphia. Unfortunately, I find myself in a situation that I’d never expected. I fear I must head to Wyoming without first awaiting your response in hopes this letter and I arrive at approximately the same time.

  According to your ad, you are inclined to a wife who is versed in household chores and familiar with housekeeping.

  I assure you I am well disposed to both. I have maintained housekeeping in my current home for many years.

  If I am remiss in assuming your intentions or they have changed, there is nothing to be done at this point. It is with hopeful expectations that I travel to you.

  Regards,

  Christina

  Barrett’s hand trembled as he lowered the paper, the words blurring as he searched the writing for some clue to it being some sort of misunderstanding. Could it be the beautiful woman he’d just met had come so far to marry him?

  A part of him wanted to rejoice in the possibility of someone like her becoming his partner for life. Yet the more reasonable side, the realist in him, was instantly bombarded with vivid recollections of all his shortcomings.

  Christina Mills could aspire to so much more. She was not only graceful and obviously high born, but with a gentle nature, which contrasted with her explanation of familiarity with household chores. Why would a woman of social status perform domestic chores? Surely, she’d meant overseeing staff as they completed said duties.

  Life in the west was so much harder, even for those accustomed to labor. Things easy to acquire in the cities back east, many times had to be handmade in Wyoming.

  A thought struck. Although she’d studied him a few times during their short acquaintance earlier, the woman had not seemed to recognize him. However, she was extremely upset over her experiences the night prior, perhaps that was the reason she’d not had an opportunity to connect him as the man she’d written to.

  Barrett racked his mind, attempting to remember exactly what he’d written to be placed in the ad. Other than the uncomfortable situation of having to have his picture taken, he could only remember listing his occupation, what he desired in a wife and, of course, his injuries.

  “Well, Fella. Seems I have a situation here I must clarify before Christmas. We may have to return to town tomorrow.”

  Loud knocks on the door sounded and Barrett got to his feet. When he opened the door he faced the wrong side of a gun barrel.

  Although the Withers’ home was welcoming and the bed comfortable, Christina barely slept. After tossing and turning for hours, she slid from the bed and went to the window. On nights like these, she loved staring up at the sky while praying. The peacefulness following would usually be enough to settle her mind.

  This night, however, her mind was filled with the so many things that had transpired and she’d not a moment to herself until coming to bed.

  Exhausted, Christina wanted to cry with relief when Olive insisted she go to bed early and get rest. She was not expected at breakfast.

  Barrett came to mind. She’d not thought to find out his last name. The man’s features formed in her mind and a sigh escaped. This was not the time for fascinations of any sort. Yet, she found it was impossible not to think about the man she’d met that day. He’d made an impression, everything from the way he carried himself to the way in which he treated the women of his acquaintance. He seemed so worthy.

  Although injured, he did not allow it to distract from his manhood. As a matter of fact, for some reason whatever was wrong made him seem more masculine, honorable even.

  There were too many similarities between him and the man she’d written. The picture had been so blurry and, now without her trunk, she could not make a comparison. Why had she not kept it in her reticule?

  Letting out a long breath, Christina wondered about the upcoming holidays. Would she be settled with a husband and home of her very own by Christmas? Or was it possible that fate was being cruel, condemning her for disobeying her father?

  Not wanting to ponder any longer, she, instead, focused on her upcoming days. She’d be helping Olive prepare for an upcoming event in town for the holidays and three afternoons a week she’d work with Mrs. Wilkes. Her lips curved as she climbed back into bed.

  Working at Mrs. Wilkes’ would increase the possibilities of seeing Barrett often.

  CHRISTINA, A BRIDE FOR CHRISTMAS

  CHAPTER TEN

  “I am indebted to you,” the stranger said, not for the first time. “I came expectin’ little and, instead, you have nursed and fed me without complaint.” The man stood by the door, Barrett’s old clothes hanging on his too-thin frame. “Can’t say I will be able to pay you back.”

  Although the stranger had come demanding food and money, when Barrett offered him a place to sleep for the night and a warm meal, his demeanor had instantly changed. It was almost as if he’d crumpled at being shown kindness.

  “You’re welcome to take the blanket. It’s getting cold out there.”

  The man looked to his boots. “Thank you kindly, I will. It’s more than I could have wished for, the oats and all for my donkey.”

  The man hadn’t any bullets in his gun so he’d not meant to cause him harm, he’d admitted while eating.

  Fella was not as accommodating as Barrett. The dog guarded the stranger all night lying at Barrett’s bedroom doorway his head lifting at any noise. Given the dog’s normally docile nature, Barrett didn’t chastise him for the lack of hospitality.

  Once the man left, Barrett waited before going to his workshop. A part of him wanted to return to town, but it was best to wait a day or two and allow his mind to settle on the best way to approach Christina.

  Somehow, he had to find a way to decline her offer without breaking her spirit. Then again, it was possible after learning of his disabilities that she’d be relieved.

  He refilled his coffee cup and fished the letter out of his pocket. Given the unexpected circumstances of the night before, he considered, once again, how hard life was in the west. In a situation like one with the stranger, having a wife would have made everything so much more dangerous and complicated.

  Was he really prepared for that much responsibility?

  Two days later, Barrett hitched the horse and prepared to go into town. The ride wasn’t long, half an hour at the most.

  The town was bustling with activity. Most people were probably preparing for the upcoming festival and the holidays. Women left the mercantile with hurried steps heading towards either waiting wagons or other shops. Men unloaded laden carts or gathered in small groups, no doubt passing the time until their wives completed their errands.

  He pulled his wagon to the side of the mercantile building and climbed down.
After Fella was also on the ground, Barrett considered where to go first.

  “Barrett, I’d like to speak to you.” The mayor’s wife caught him by surprise as she appeared, standing on the sidewalk.

  “Yes, of course Mrs. Withers.” He walked to her and tipped his hat. “What can I do for you?”

  Mrs. Withers took his arm and began walking. “I have a theory and I believe it’s right.” Her gaze slid up to meet his. “Let’s have tea. Our conversation must take place in private.”

  They walked to the mayor’s house and settled in the parlor. After Nan brought their tea, Mrs. Withers was prepared to talk. Her lips curved into a delighted smile as she peered past him to the front of the house.

  “Christina is at Mrs. Wilkes’, so I feel comfortable in speaking to you about this right now. You see, she came here as a mail order bride. Last night, she revealed who she came to marry.”

  Barrett’s heart thudded against his breast. In silence, he waited for what else the mayor’s wife would say.

  Mrs. Withers gave him a stern look. “Have you received the letter?”

  “I just did. I came to see about her today.”

  Clapping, Mrs. Wither’s beamed. “Well, if that’s the case, then we can move forward and start planning an immediate wedding. You must marry her so she can be settled before Christmas.”

  “I plan to retract my offer of marriage.”

  Silence stretched between them, the only sound in the room was the rhythmic tick-tock of the large clock in the entrance.

  Finally, Mrs. Wither’s lifted her cup and sipped, her gaze not leaving his face. After a long drink, she lowered the cup. “Why?”

  “Do you really have to ask, Mrs. Withers? It is apparent Miss Mills is high born, with much better prospects than a one-legged carpenter. Don’t think I wouldn’t wish to marry her. I do. However, I am realistic in knowing she will be relieved at knowing I withdraw my offer.”