A Dogtown Christmas

by Hutton, Callie

  Priscilla sighed and turned to him. “You don’t understand, Mitch. There are no issues to work out. For some ridiculous reason you believe it is absolutely necessary for us to take a permanent step for no other reason than ‘it’s the right thing to do.’”

  “Has it occurred to you that you might be carrying my child?”

  He gleaned a certain amount of satisfaction from her face paling, which assured him that was something she hadn’t considered. “It is possible, you know.”

  “And hardly likely. Getting pregnant so easily is not probable.” She chewed her lip. Perhaps she was not as sure about her assertion as she sounded.

  Luckily since they’d left the cabin not long after dawn, the streets of the town were quiet and no one saw them on the main roads. He drove her directly home and helped her out of the buggy. Holding firmly onto her elbow, he guided her up the path through the snow to the house. “The town generally dispenses with school after a big storm, but since today is Saturday anyway, you will have the day to consider my proposal.”

  “Oh, really? That was a proposal? How strange. I didn’t hear it that way.”

  “Priscilla…” Mitch skimmed her jaw with his knuckle. “Just think about what I said. I will pick you up for church tomorrow.”

  She flounced into the house, closing the door smartly. He jumped back just in time to avoid the clump of snow that slid from the roof. He shook his head and returned home. Ian was still sleeping when he arrived at the house, curled up in his bed. Mitch made coffee and sat in the rocking chair in the parlor with a steaming cup. He’d started a fire in the fireplace, and his little house warmed up.

  He looked around, thinking about having a wife once again. The idea didn’t trouble him as much as he would have thought only six months ago.

  Before Miss Priscilla Cochran arrived in Dogtown and turned his life upside down.

  He glanced up as Ian stumbled into the parlor, rubbing his eyes. “You’re home.”

  “I hope you weren’t too worried.”

  “A little. Where’s Miss Cochran?”

  “I dropped her off at her house.” He waved his son over and pointed to the sofa. “Sit down for a minute.”

  “What?”

  “Miss Cochran and I got caught in the snowstorm on our way back from little Emily’s house.”

  Ian nodded. “I figured that. Where did you stay?”

  “Do you remember the old hunting cabin out by the Old Bridge Falls?”

  Ian nodded.

  “We stayed there and left this morning right after dawn.” Mitch leaned forward, placing his forearms on his thighs. “It’s not considered proper for an unmarried lady to spend the night alone with a man. However, we had no choice. If we didn’t stay in the cabin we would have frozen to death.”

  “Then I’m glad you stayed in the cabin.”

  “Me, too. What I’m asking you to do is not mention to anyone that I was gone all night with Miss Cochran. Can you do that for me?”

  His son shrugged. “Sure. Can we have breakfast now?”

  The simplicity of a child. That ground covered, Mitch placed his hand on Ian’s shoulder and walked with him to the kitchen. “What do you want for breakfast?”

  “Flapjacks?”

  “Coming up.”

  Priscilla spent all day Saturday sewing costumes for the Christmas pageant and going through hymnals to choose the best songs for the children to sing. At no time did she allow herself to dwell on what had happened in the cabin the night before. Thinking of Mitch and his hands on her naked flesh brought a rush of feelings that made her restless and kept her from doing the jobs she needed to do.

  Of course, if she wanted to change those feelings from warm, lovely memories to anger, all she had to do was remember his proposal. The one she was supposed to be spending today considering. She huffed. As if she would marry a man who considered her some type of penance for an indiscretion. An albatross around his neck for the rest of his life.

  Once again she picked up the letter from Mama that had arrived on the mail coach. Nothing seemed to keep Boswick from making his deliveries.

  Dearest Priscilla,

  Papa and I are very happy that things are going well for you in your new position As much as we miss you, it warms a parent’s heart to know their child is happy and content.

  Not much is different here since I last wrote. We enjoyed Thanksgiving, and even though there were twenty-four of us for dinner (I believe – I’m beginning to lose count), I still had an open space in my heart for my missing daughter.

  I’m glad you feel as though you are making a place for yourself in Dogtown. Your stories of the children you teach keep Papa and I entertained in the evenings.

  Your twin Henry sends his love, and you must forgive him for not writing, but he is always buried under a textbook of one sort or another.

  I will close now since Andrew is begging me to take him Christmas shopping. He says he has a wonderful idea for a gift for Papa. At four years of age, I shudder to think what he has in mind. As always, Papa sends his love.

  Love, Mama

  Priscilla sighed and refolded the letter. It had been bad enough spending Thanksgiving without her loud, boisterous family, but a Christmas alone was downright depressing. She couldn’t even count on Mitch and Ian this time because once she made him understand she wasn’t going to marry him, he might never set foot in her house again.

  She bit off the thread from the angel’s gown she’d finished sewing then shook it out. Two more to go, and then the costumes would be finished.

  What would life be like if she married Mitch? Certainly their bedroom life would be interesting and rewarding. Just thinking back on their night together, and what they’d done and how he’d made her feel, had her squirming in her seat.

  She would also be a mother to Ian, a boy of whom she was certainly very fond. She shook her head. Right now there was no reason for her to consider marriage. She’d seen enough good, solid marriages in her family to know love must be the foundation. Neither one of them expressed any sort of caring for the other. Had their time together only been about passion?

  An hour later her growling stomach reminded her it was well past time for supper. She cut a few slices of leftover meatloaf and made a sandwich, and washed it down with a cup of coffee.

  Once cleaned up from supper, restlessness overcame her and she wandered around the house, dragging her fingertips over the furniture, going from room to room, unsure why the house seemed so lonely. Perhaps the letter from home had unsettled her. She picked up a copy of A Romance of Wastdale by A.E.W. Mason that she’d started a few days earlier. With not much enthusiasm, she continued where she’d left off and found herself reading the same paragraph four times.

  She tossed the book aside and sighed, wanting to sleep so Sunday would come sooner and she’d see Mitch again, but knowing she was much too restless for slumber. The man had her going in circles. Priscilla had been raised by God-fearing people who didn’t approve of sex outside of marriage. Why she’d found it so easy to give herself to Mitch could only be answered in one way.

  She had very strong feelings for him.

  If he hadn’t issued such a haphazard proposal she might have thought he held feelings for her, as well. But his autocratic demand that she marry him because it was the right thing to do and they had no choice, had her bristling and her stubborn side rearing its head. No one would tell her she had to do something.

  She headed to the kitchen and warmed up some milk. Maybe she should get a cat. That would keep her from noticing how quiet her house was. Yes, in the morning she would ask at church if anyone had a cat she could adopt. Something warm to hold onto. Something she could rub her cheek against, feel the strength and hardness of its muscled chest. The crinkly hairs that her fingers could run through. The heat that came from its body to cover hers and press her into the mattress, to take her lips…

  Good God, she‘d switched from a soft fuzzy cat to the man she was trying desperat
ely to put from her mind. Downing the last of the milk, she put the glass in the sink and headed to the bedroom. The fire was almost out in the potbelly stove, leaving the room with a chill. Since she knew sleep wasn’t going to come for a while, a trip out to the shed to get more wood was definitely in order.

  Colorado air was certainly much sharper and clearer than Oklahoma air. Now that she’d gotten used to it, her body was comfortable with the cooler temperatures. She tugged the back door closed behind her. The light from the half-moon cast the yard in shadows. As she pulled the collar up on her coat, she tilted her head back and admired the stars. The sky was brilliant with sparkling little diamonds

  Picking up the lantern she’d brought from the house, she carefully made her way down the steps. Her boots crunched the packed snow underneath her feet, echoing in the silence. She held the lantern high, the circle of light leading her to the wood shed. Setting the lantern down, she collected two logs that would do her for the night and the next morning.

  She fumbled to tuck them securely into her arm and picked the lantern back up. She turned toward the house and screamed.

  Chapter Ten

  Mitch checked his pocket watch for the tenth time that evening. Nine o’clock. He was jumpy as a whore in church. Ian had retired to bed an hour ago, his reading light still glowing from underneath his bedroom door.

  Nothing held his interest long enough to keep Priscilla out of his mind. And that was how the woman had him feeling. Out of his mind. He still didn’t understand why she’d refused to marry him. Marriage certainly wasn’t something he was hankering to do, yet he was willing to make the sacrifice.

  Maybe Priscilla wanted more than a sacrifice.

  In retrospect, he could have asked her in a nicer way. Women liked flowery words, courting, little gifts of candy and trinkets. Things like that. And what had he done? He’d ordered her to the altar and then acted even more the bully when she’d refused.

  His mind made up, he opened Ian’s door. His son was fast asleep, propped up on pillows, his book lying in his lap. A rush of love came over him as he studied the little boy who was no longer little, who stood on the cusp of manhood. He removed the book and closed it, making sure he tucked the bookmark in the proper place. Giving him a light kiss on his forehead, he eased him down and pulled the covers up to his neck. Dousing the oil lamp, he left the room.

  He grabbed his coat from the coat tree by the door. He buttoned it up against the cold, pulled on a hat and gloves, then wrapped a woolen scarf around his neck. After checking his coat pocket to make sure his gun was handy, he pulled the front door closed.

  Even though it would be a good twenty minute walk to Priscilla’s house, he preferred the hike to saddling up his horse again. And the time spent getting there would give him time to go over what he needed to say.

  The more he thought about marriage to Priscilla, the more he liked the idea. They could even have children. If her father was good enough to become a U.S. senator after his questionable beginning in life, there wasn’t any reason for him to feel Priscilla was above him. So far she’d shown herself to be smart, strong, resilient, and even—he had to admit to himself—unlikely to run back home.

  This time when he proposed, he had to make it sound like a request, not an order. A thought flitted through his mind that brought him up short.

  Love.

  Women liked to hear words of love. Did he love Priscilla?

  He sure as hell desired her. Just the thought of all those cold Colorado nights cuddled up under the covers, finding new places on her body that made her burn, warmed him up considerably. Enough to have him loosening his scarf.

  Even if he didn’t love her, his feelings were strong enough that they could easily turn into love. A life with a woman in it was something he’d never thought he’d have again. He and Polly had been so young, they could very well have been merely infatuated with each other. With her dying so young, he would never know.

  What he did know was his feelings for Priscilla were those of a man for a woman, not a boy for a girl. He hurried his steps as he grew closer to the schoolhouse. Now that he’d decided how to go about this, he was anxious to see her. Ask for her hand in marriage in a proper way.

  He rounded the corner just as a woman screamed.

  Priscilla!

  Not knowing what to expect, he drew his gun and released the safety. The scant moonlight showed Priscilla backed up against the shed door. Standing between her and the back door of her house, a large mountain lion, blood dripping from his mouth, stood stock still and stared at her. A freshly killed animal lay at its feet. It appeared to be a possum. Mitch could hear the mountain lion’s panting in the night air.

  Priscilla’s whimpers and the scene before him scared the hell out of him. “Priscilla, don’t move,” he whispered. She nodded and remained where she was, her eyes never leaving the animal. Mitch raised his gun and taking aim, shot the mountain lion in the back of its head. It immediately dropped to the ground.

  Mitch lowered the gun, and Priscilla raced toward him, throwing herself into his arms. He wrapped one arm around her body, her head tucked into his shoulder. Keeping his gun ready and his eye on the animal, he said, “Let’s go inside.” Backing away from the scene, he led her up the stairs to the rear door. “Go on inside. I just want to check to make sure it’s dead. I’ll be right there.”

  After determining the mountain lion was dead, Mitch replaced the safety on his gun and dropped it into his pocket. Priscilla was pacing in the kitchen, rubbing her arms.

  He closed the door and removed his coat. “Honey, come here.” He reached his hand out.

  She turned to him, her face pale. “That was close.”

  He tugged her to him and held her close. She was shivering so badly, he could barely hold her. “My brave girl.”

  “Not so brave. I just stood there, like a statute.”

  “Sweetheart, there wasn’t much you could do. Most women would be wailing and carrying on by now.”

  And packing their clothes to head back to civilization. Not my Priscilla.

  “I just thank God I was here.”

  She leaned back. “Yes. What are you doing here?”

  “Let me get the wood you were going after so I can warm the place up a bit. Go grab a blanket to cover yourself with until I get a fire going. Then we’ll talk.”

  With ice-cold hands, Priscilla took the heavy quilt from her bed and wrapped it around herself. Who would have thought she needed to bring a gun with her to gather wood from the shed? She could still see the animal staring at her, his mouth covered in the blood from the animal he’d just slain. She shivered and sat in the rocking chair in the parlor.

  Mitch returned and shoved a log into the potbelly stove in the parlor. After tossing in a handful of kindling and dried pine needles, he lit the twigs and shut the stove door. “It will be warm in here soon.” He rubbed his hands together, then shrugged out of his coat and removed his hat, gloves, and scarf. With one quick movement, he scooped Priscilla up from the rocking chair, settled himself in her place, and seated her on his lap.

  Suddenly exhausted, Priscilla rested her head on his shoulder. They rocked for a while in silence, the room growing warmer, as promised. Priscilla felt herself drifting off into sleep when Mitch spoke.

  “I’m here for a reason.”

  She shifted around, the blanket falling to her lap since she was no longer shivering. “You mean you didn’t stop by just to kill the mountain lion?” She smirked at him.

  Mitch tucked a curl behind her ear. “No. Although I thank God I was here.”

  She sobered. “Me, too. Thank you for saving my life.” She paused. “So what brings you here late at night when you’re supposed to pick me up for church in the morning?”

  “I want to discuss marriage.”

  She stiffened in his lap. “No.”

  “Hold on. Let me finish.” He wrapped his arms around her waist, effectively keeping her captive. Not that she minded. His dark
good looks and strong body offered an easy backdrop for whatever he’d planned to say. “I’m not going to order you to marry me.”

  “Good.”

  “I realize that was the wrong way to go about it. But you have to admit marriage is not such a bad idea.”

  “Hmm. This is supposed to be a better way of discussing wedded bliss?”

  “You must know I care about you. I know the type of woman you are. Women from your background don’t allow men to make love to them without the benefit of marriage. So there have to be some feelings on your part as well.”

  She smiled at his earnestness, finding it sweet. She sat up and swung her legs back and forth. “I also have very strong feelings for Ian and he does for me as well, but I don’t want to marry him.”

  “Very funny.”

  “You realize if I were to marry I would lose my job?”

  “Why?”

  “When my cousin Ellie married Max, the Guthrie Board of Education made him fire her. They said it was against their policy to employ young married women. Old married women were okay. What’s amusing about that was, as her principal, Max and Ellie had never gotten along and he was actually trying to find a husband for her so he could fire her.”

  “And?”

  “While he was doing that, they fell in love so he had to fire her after all.”

  “Now that’s funny.”

  “Ellie didn’t think so.”

  He ran his knuckle over her cheek, leaving her skin tingling in its wake. “But I am going to convince you.”

  “How?”

  His head descended, and he covered her mouth in another toe-curling kiss. His strong hand cupped her face and held it gently. So much power in his body, yet he was so gentle with her. She turned slightly so she could hold onto his shoulders. His palms moved to her back and he pulled her closer against his chest until her breasts were pushed up against him. Since she had been heading to bed, she no longer wore her corset, while warmth from their bodies took away any lingering chill.