Mountain Christmas Brides

by Mildred Colvin

He shook his head. “No, Anna. I fell in love with a little tomboy. My love is for all time, whether you are mine for one day or for the next sixty years.”

  He released her hand and stepped back. “I wanted you to know how I feel about you. I know you can’t marry me now. I’m willing to wait, but there’s no other girl who can ever take your place in my heart. When you finish school, if you haven’t found someone else, I’d like the chance to court you. I understand if you don’t love me.”

  Jeremiah swallowed the lump in his throat. He’d laid everything out before her and had nothing more to say. He walked out the open door.

  “Tuck.” Anna’s sweet voice followed him.

  He stopped but didn’t look back.

  “I’ll be eighteen in two weeks. I’m not a child.”

  Jeremiah took a ragged breath. Still he didn’t turn. “What about school?”

  “I’m not leaving.”

  At her touch on his arm, he turned and searched her face.

  “I’ve talked to Papa. He never really wanted me to go. It was Mama’s idea.”

  Jeremiah grabbed her hand, and with his heart pounding the rhythm of his love, he knelt before her in front of anyone who wanted to see. “I love you, Anna. Can you find it in your heart to care even a little for me? Will you marry me?”

  On the fringes of her vision, Anna saw people standing in the hallway, making a semicircle around them, but she couldn’t tear her gaze from the insecurity in Jeremiah’s eyes. He truly loved her. Not Kathleen, but her. She laughed, and her feet bounced as she tugged at him to stand.

  “Yes!” As quickly as he rose, she threw her arms around his neck. “Yes of course, I love you. I’ll marry you, and don’t you dare back down.”

  “Never.” His voice choked on the one word. His cheek touched hers as applause filled the hall where they stood.

  Anna released her hold and turned with Jeremiah to see Larkin standing in front of a group of their friends, her lips curved in a smile. Garrick sat behind them with Kathleen by his side. All smiled and clapped their approval then surrounded them, offering congratulations.

  Jeremiah took Anna’s hand. “This isn’t official without your father’s blessing.”

  “Then I suggest you ask now.” Papa pushed through and shook Jeremiah’s hand. “You know, I don’t think this is right. A father shouldn’t lose both his girls in the same night.”

  “Garrick and Kathleen?” Anna bounced inside.

  Papa nodded. “Yes, and now you.” He turned to Mama. “What do you think about this?”

  Anna held her breath when Mama looked from her to Jeremiah. Finally, she shrugged. “Just one question. Are you sure you want this tomboy?”

  Jeremiah threw back his head and laughed. He pulled Anna close and looked into her eyes. “Oh yes. I’m positive.”

  Mama smiled. “Then you have my blessing as well. When do you plan to marry?”

  Jeremiah raised his eyebrows in a question. “Before spring planting?”

  Anna looked toward her sister. “Maybe we could have a double wedding.”

  Kathleen stepped close and hugged Anna. “Garrick says he plans to walk before we marry, so we are thinking about March.”

  Anna laughed. “That’s perfect. We’ll be married in March and everyone’s invited. We’ll have the biggest wedding Tumwater has ever seen.”

  She turned to Jeremiah as he lowered his head to cover her lips in the first of what she hoped would be many kisses.

  Mildred Colvin is the author of more than thirty romance novels in both contemporary and historical time settings, including the bestseller “Mama’s Bible” which is the first in a series of Oregon Trail stories. She is a member of American Christian Fiction Writers as well as a wonderful critique group. Mildred often sets her stories in her home state of Missouri where she lives with her husband of almost fifty years. They have three adult children and three grandchildren. You can find Mildred online at http://www.infinitecharacters.com and on Facebook at Romantic Reflections by Mildred Colvin.

  One Evergreen Night

  by Debby Lee

  Dedication

  This is dedicated to my mom, who has helped me along the way; to my dad, who helped me with the technical stuff in the story; to my husband, Steve, and my five children for putting up with me; to my four classmates and friends, Jeff Pratt, Nick Sorensen, Steven Stover, and Del Ray “Buzzy” Hughes, for giving me this idea; to Mr. Hoglund, my high school English teacher, who was the first one who thought I could write a book; to my friends at Crossroads Church who prayed for me and helped me discover God’s calling on my life; and last but not least, to my Savior, Jesus Christ, for not giving up on me.

  Except the LORD build the house, they labour in vain that build it.

  PSALM 127:1

  Chapter 1

  Washington Territory

  September, 1889

  Frederick Corrigan piled firewood into the furnace of the locomotive. The rattletrap he’d given the pet name Inferno swayed violently from side to side as it careened down the hill. Frederick braced his hands against the walls and struggled to remain in a standing position. At the speed the train was going, he would have no time to jump if it derailed.

  Steam poured from the engine. Frederick’s chest ached as he sucked the sweltering air into his lungs. The furnace door burned red hot and could potentially explode from the pressure at any moment, but getting the load of logs to the mill on time was crucial. His job depended on his ability to deliver the timber as quickly as possible.

  When he reached the bottom of the steep slope, Frederick pulled hard on the brake lever in order to round Widow’s Bend looming ahead. The brakes protested with a grinding shriek. The screech of the wheels pierced his eardrums with a painful force. Sparks flew from the wheels that gripped the flimsy rails. Lord, let the tracks be stable. The corner approached with frightening speed. He was going too fast … again.

  As the landscape alongside the tracks flew past with a blur, Frederick held his breath. He stood frozen for what felt like eternity.

  “Turn … turn,” he whispered, prayed. He leaned opposite of the turn. His two hundred pounds wouldn’t make a difference in a true emergency, but the action made him feel better. For a brief moment, he thought he felt the wheels lift from the tracks. He white-knuckled the sides of the car as if sheer force of will could push Inferno back onto the rails.

  The rickety wheels somehow stayed on course. With the corner behind him Frederick relaxed his grip and breathed a little easier, especially since the path ahead was clear of animals. Such wasn’t always the case. Derailing would surely curtail his chances of getting the promotion with Kenicky Logging, the company he worked for, and then where would he be?

  The rolling hills of Tumwater came into view. Small farms where cattle grazed in green fields skirted the town. Farther down the line, he spotted several wooden structures clustered along Main Street. Few people were milling about the lively town he called home when he wasn’t stuck up in the logging camp.

  Clutching the throttle, Frederick checked the pressure gauges as a short wooden bridge approached. He gave a cursory glance behind him to check on the logs and make sure they were still on the flatcars. It was a wonder they were considering the way he drove, but he hadn’t lost a load yet, and he didn’t intend to.

  The wheels rolled onto the bridge with a shaky bump and again Frederick held his breath. Pieces of twisted metal and broken railroad cars lay on both sides of the tracks in the creek below. Remnants of a recent crash that killed one of his coworkers, one of his friends. Frederick shuddered. But for the grace of God …

  As Inferno rolled over the tracks, the wheels made an eerie thumpity-thump, drowning out the sound of rushing water in the creek. Slowly the locomotive passed over the bridge. Frederick relaxed when it was on solid ground on the other side.

  He blew out a sigh of relief and mopped the sweat from his face with a red bandana. He was going to make it in one piece. The last guy who rode these
rails wasn’t as lucky, as evidenced by the wreckage behind him.

  As the small businesses that dotted the landscape began to whip past his line of vision, Frederick applied the brake again. More sweat caused his hair to stick to his forehead. The noise made him want to cover his ears, but he had to keep his hands on the levers and his eyes on the gauges. Renier Lumber Company lay just ahead, and the team of men waited to take this load of logs and turn them into lumber.

  Frederick pressed hard on the brake lever and steam poured from the locomotive. The heat caused his muscles to grow weak as he came to a stop at the loading dock of the mill. “Thank You, Lord,” he whispered under his breath.

  He climbed down the rough metal ladder. “Morning, E.V.”

  E.V. strode up and gave Frederick a slap on the back. “Looks like you had a good run there.” He raked his fingers over what had to be at least three days’ stubble on his chin. E.V. only shaved on Wednesdays and Sundays.

  “Sure did.” Frederick stood back and took a breather as E.V. pulled on a pair of worn leather work gloves and joined a team of men nearby.

  Frederick couldn’t help but feel pride in his accomplishment of getting the train safely to Tumwater. If all continued to go well, he just might get that promotion. If only the boss could overlook the recent loss of the previous engineer. The accident hadn’t been Frederick’s fault, but he felt somewhat responsible anyway. He should have been there that day.

  “You all right?” E.V. asked with concern buzzing through his tone.

  “Yeah, I’m fine. Let’s get this thing unloaded so I can get back up to the landing and get another load.” Frederick moved with precision, although his thoughts vacillated between a gnawing hunger to impress his boss; Albert, his coworker’s widow with two fatherless children; and anxiety at his own father’s home teetering toward the auction block.

  “Shoo, shoo!” Emma Pearson charged after a rat, knocking over a wash bucket as she chased the vermin out of the bunkhouse. Once the rat darted into the woods, she halted her chase and paused to catch her breath. She looked over her shoulder into the open bunkhouse door. “Oh no,” she groaned at the mess she’d created.

  Getting the sheets off the beds, washed, and dried was proving to be much more work than she had originally anticipated. Nonetheless, the job had to be done before the men came back in from the woods, or she would be in a heap of trouble that night.

  Muttering under her breath, she traipsed back inside. She picked up the water bucket and winced as the dirty soapy water sloshed on a recent burn she received while taking dinner rolls from the cookstove.

  Emma hated living in the rough and dirty logging camp. The work was so hard and the conditions were so … primitive.

  Mr. and Mrs. Wilkin were kind enough to offer her a loft in their cabin. The tiny room offered little privacy, but it held her most prized possession, her mother’s dark green ball gown. The garment had frayed around the collar and sleeves over the years, but to Emma it was a dress fit for a fairy tale.

  “Lord, I know Your Word says to be content in all circumstances, but this?” With no place to go and nobody to turn to for help, she gritted her teeth against the pain in her burned fingers and resigned herself to finishing the sheets. First she had to get a bucket of fresh water to replace the one she’d spilled.

  “Stupid rat.” Emma stomped down to the creek, her thoughts drifting in the direction of town and all the excitement going on there. Many of her friends were attending fancy parties at the Whitworth mansion, plays at the local theater, and a real church on Sunday mornings. If only she wasn’t stuck in this isolated and dirty place. Immersed in her dreams of all the activity in town, the pain she felt in her burned fingers subsided.

  About the time she unpinned the last sheet from the makeshift clothesline, the sound of the men arriving in camp brought her back to the present. Emma’s older brother, Jake, sidled up to her, gave her a pat on the head, and then began gathering the clothespins. “You look like you’ve had a hard day,” he said with a lopsided grin.

  “Every day is a hard day,” she replied, grimacing as the grin fell from his face like a giant oak crashing to the ground.

  “I’m doing my best, sis, to support us.”

  With dark hair and dark eyes mirroring hers, he was the only living relative she had left in the world. She was glad he was home safe, at least for the night. “I know,” she answered, “and I’m sorry for complaining.”

  “I start training for driving the loads into town tomorrow.” Jake eyed her as if to gauge her reaction. “Frederick Corrigan has been kind enough to put in a good word for me and is willing to show me the ropes.”

  Emma tried to smile but couldn’t, not any more than she could count on her burned fingers how many times a day she prayed for her brother’s safety. From what she heard of Frederick Corrigan’s driving, they could use the prayers tomorrow, and the days after to boot!

  “Don’t be angry, Emma. Compared to the job I’m doing now, it’s twice the pay—”

  “And five times the danger!” How could she make him understand that, after losing their parents, she couldn’t bear to lose him, too?

  “Fred is a good man. He’s a skilled driver and will teach me well.” Jake rambled on about Frederick Corrigan’s proficiency, but few words soaked through the dry and brittle exterior of her heart. The company’s driver took daring chances on the rails—chances she didn’t want her brother taking.

  “Emma, I need you to come and help me take up the potatoes, please.” The voice of the camp’s cook, Mrs. Wilkin, floated to Emma, drawing her from her thoughts.

  “Go on, sis, I need to wash up.” Jake strode to the creek. “I’ll see you at dinner.”

  Emma quickly picked up the basket full of clean sheets. “Be right there,” she called toward the kitchen. She hadn’t taken more than two steps before she bumped into someone and nearly dropped the laundry basket. Clothespins fell to the ground and rolled every which way. Exasperation bubbled within her.

  “Of all the—” Emma bit her lip to stifle the exclamations swirling in her head.

  When she looked up, Frederick Corrigan stood blocking her path.

  Chapter 2

  Afternoon, Miss Pearson.” He tipped his hat and nodded.

  Emma noted the twinkle in his sky blue eyes as he smiled down at her. What, pray tell, he had to smile about was beyond her. From what she heard, his father’s house was in foreclosure and one of his lumberjack friends had just died in a horrible accident.

  “Afternoon, Mr. Corrigan,” Emma said, noting all too well the cold flatness in her voice. She had once thought him to be handsome and daring, but now that he had agreed to teach her brother—her only living kin—his reckless ways, she could only see him as a means to her brother’s death.

  “May I help you with that basket?” Mr. Corrigan reached for the load she carried, and she shied away from his touch.

  “No, thank you, I can manage just fine on my own.” Emma’s curt words dripped with disdain.

  “Since your brother will be riding with me, I would think we could at least be friends.” He cracked a bright grin.

  “I’m really very busy.” Emma adjusted the basket on her hip and turned toward the bunkhouses. Since when would she like to be friends with the likes of this rough scoundrel?

  “You don’t approve of me, do you?” He stood in her path like a towering pine, with his hands on his hips. His eyes reminded Emma of the sky on a cloudless summer day, much as she hated to admit it.

  “It isn’t that I dislike you. I just don’t care to see my brother taking the same reckless chances on the rails that you do.”

  He glared at her with stormy intensity. The eyes that were a lovely shade of blue only a moment ago now took on a thunderous darkening. “I’m the best engineer this company has, and I’ll teach your brother well.”

  “I’ve no doubt you’ll teach him to properly deliver the timber, but will you teach him to be safe? Speedy delivery didn’t fare
well for the last driver, now did it?” Emma didn’t wish to be confrontational or tell Mr. Corrigan how to do his job, but the last thing she wanted was her brother becoming the next casualty in the logging camp.

  He aimed an icy glare straight at her.

  “Do you think I’d intentionally endanger another man’s life?” Rage and hurt pride were evident on his tanned face. His nostrils flared and his jaw was set in hardened lines.

  Emma sucked in her breath. Something in her gut coiled as the hair on the nape of her neck prickled. She had seen men angry like this before. If she lived to be a thousand years old, the sight would always trigger fear.

  He sneered through clenched teeth. “I’ll see to it your brother’s kept safe.” Without another word, he turned on his boot heel and stomped away, leaving a gasping Emma to cope with his blunt words.

  “Emma Pearson is sure angry with me.” Frederick spoke with E.V. the next morning at the sawmill. He could almost feel his blood heating in his veins. “She doesn’t want me showing her brother the ropes of train engineering.”

  “Can you blame her?”

  E.V.’s words gave Frederick pause, and he thought about Emma’s situation. Having lost both her parents, she probably lived in daily fear of losing her brother, too. And with an engineer’s recent death, her fears had to be multiplied.

  Frederick shook his head. “No, it’s dangerous work, much as I hate to admit it. I just wish she’d understand I’m not the dare-devil she thinks I am.”

  Even though E.V. owned the sawmill and had his employees to do the grunt work, he pulled on a pair of leather gloves and began to help Frederick with the current load of logs. “Why don’t you do something nice for her?”

  “I don’t want Miss Pearson thinking I’m sweet on her.”

  E.V.’s gaze shifted to the street where Larkin Whitworth exited the mercantile, holding boxes precariously balanced. “Doing something nice doesn’t mean you have to start courting. See a need and then meet it.” He dropped a log onto the pile then patted Frederick’s back. “I’ll catch up with you when you bring the next load in.”