Before Rose could knock on her father’s door, she heard a loud hoot of laughter. She wondered if she should bother the two men, but then she decided she wanted to know what that laughter was about. She waited until the noise quieted down, because she knew they would never hear her knock through all the racket.
“Come in.” Her father’s voice still contained a remnant of mirth. That was a good sign. She opened the door. Thomas stood beside the table with both hands shoved in his pockets. She’d noticed he did that when he was agitated or nervous. For a moment, she wondered which one he was this time.
“Hey, girl, come on over here.” High color marked her father’s cheeks, and his eyes twinkled. He peeked at Thomas. “You want to tell her, or do you want me to?”
“Tell me what?” Rose would have put her hands on her hips if she hadn’t been holding the chocolate bars. She studied each man in turn. Something was up. That was for sure.
Thomas cleared his throat. She’d never heard him do that before. Maybe something was wrong with him. “Your father and I were discussing …” He left the sentence hanging while he expelled a deep breath. He crossed his arms and stood tall. “I want to court you, and he’s given me his blessing.”
Everything around her faded away while Rose stared at the man she loved. “Court? … As in?”
Thomas dropped his hands to his sides and took a step toward her. “As in learning whether we could love each other.”
Her father harrumphed in the background, but she didn’t take her eyes from Thomas. “Love … each … other?”
Thomas reached for her and gently clasped her shoulders. “Rose, may I court you?”
All she could do was nod.
The next day Thomas rode into Breckenridge. He wanted to buy some small gifts for Rose. Something to give her every day. The mercantile contained a large selection. He perused the displays and bought a book of poetry and a copy of The House of Mirth by Edith Wharton. He hoped she’d like them. In another section, he found a display of the new teddy bears named for Teddy Roosevelt, so he purchased one. He knew Rose liked to sing, so he bought sheet music to “Sweethearts” by Robert B. Smith. The words should tell her how he felt. He picked up some of the new Crayola crayons, because he hoped their relationship would always be filled with fun.
“Is that you, Thomas Stanton?” A booming voice behind him alerted everyone in the store of his presence.
He turned around. “Brandon Stone, I’d know you anywhere, but where are the overalls?”
Brandon laughed. “I could beat you in any footrace, even if I was barefooted.”
“That you could.” Thomas studied the man before him.
Now his school chum wore a suit and bowler hat. “I work at the bank. Just made vice president.”
What a change.
“Congratulations.”
“Didn’t I hear you finished medical school and came back to Colorado?”
Thomas nodded.
“Why are you working in Denver?”
Thomas wasn’t thrilled that everyone in the store had stopped what they were doing and eavesdropped on their conversation. However, it might not be considered eavesdropping, since Brandon talked so loud.
“You already had a doctor, so I’m sharing a practice—”
“Don’t have one now.” Brandon’s assertion raised Thomas’s eyebrows.
“What do you mean?”
Brandon removed his hat and circled it in his hands. “Doc Whitten left town on yesterday’s train, and he isn’t coming back. His father is very sick, and he asked Doc to come home and take over his business until he gets well. I told him if he left, we’d have to replace him. Didn’t bother him a bit.”
Thomas thought he knew where this was leading. What would he do if Brandon asked him to move here?
Rose accepted the mail Thomas brought home. She shuffled through the few pieces and found an envelope addressed to her. She tore it open; then a smile crossed her face.
“What is it, Rose?” Thomas leaned toward her and enjoyed the floral fragrance of her hair.
“An invitation from Natalie Daire. Her birthday is Christmas Eve, and she’s having a party.” She sighed.
“What’s the matter with that?” Thomas wanted to slay dragons for her, or at least work out her problems.
“I’d like to go, but I can’t be in Denver on Christmas Eve and at home on Christmas Day. That won’t work.”
Thomas took her hand and peered into her eyes. “Do you want to go to the party?”
“Yes, but—”
“No buts.” He dropped a swift kiss on her forehead.
“Thomas, will you be back in Denver by then?”
He squeezed her hand. “Would you like for me to stay in Breckenridge?”
Rose took a deep breath. “How could you do that?”
His smile gave her hope. “I saw Brandon Stone at the mercantile. He told me that Breckenridge needs a doctor right away.”
Rose heard her father get up from the squeaky leather chair across the room.
“What’re you talking about?” He came to stand beside her. They both waited expectantly.
“The other doctor left, and Brandon asked me if I would take his place.”
She wanted to shout, “Hallelujah!” but didn’t. “Do you want to take the position, Thomas?” She held her breath.
“That’s the main reason I went to medical school.” He looked at her father. “So I could return to Breckenridge to practice medicine.”
Her father let out a whoop then clapped Thomas on the back.
“So, Rose,” Thomas asked. “What about the party?”
Her father smiled at both of them. “Why don’t we just celebrate early, and then you two can go to your party?”
After they had read the Christmas story and exchanged gifts the night before Christmas Eve, Thomas watched Rose’s father excuse himself and head upstairs to his room. She turned toward her own bedroom.
“Rose.” Thomas stood beside the Christmas tree where he’d been blowing out the candles. “I have another gift for you. Can you stay a few minutes?”
She hurried to his side. “You’ve been giving me a gift almost every day. What more could you have left?” She stared up at Thomas. Her nearness almost made him speechless.
“This, Rose.” He handed her a tiny package overpowered by a big red bow.
He leaned down so close that their foreheads almost touched. She fumbled with the wrapping, finally uncovering the small box. Inside she found a gold ring with a pearl nestled on soft cotton.
She turned her gaze to his. “It’s beautiful, Thomas.”
He gently took the box from her and set it on the table. He lifted the ring and slid it on her ring finger while gazing deep into her fathomless eyes. “Rose, would you marry me?”
“Yes.” The word came out on a breath.
He slid his arms around her and pulled her close. “I love you.”
Just before his lips touched hers, she whispered, “I love you, too.”
Her eager acceptance of his kiss sealed that love for all their lives.
Laughter isn’t the best medicine—love is.
Multi-published, award-winning author Lena Nelson Dooley has had her books appear on the CBA and ECPA bestseller lists, as well as some Amazon bestseller lists. She is a member of American Christian Fiction Writers http://www.acfw.com/ and the local chapter, ACFW - DFW. She’s a member of Christian Authors’ Network, and Gateway Church in Southlake, Texas.
Her 2010 release Love Finds You in Golden, New Mexico, won the 2011 Will Rogers Medallion Award for excellence in publishing Western Fiction. Her next series, McKenna’s Daughters: Maggie’s Journey appeared on a reviewers Top Ten Books of 2011 list. It also won the 2012 Selah award for Historical Novel. The second, Mary’s Blessing, was a Selah Award finalist for Romance novel. Catherine’s Pursuit released in 2013. It was the winner of the NTRWA Carolyn Reader’s Choice Award, took second place in the CAN Golden Scroll Novel of the Year awa
rd, and won the Will Rogers Medallion bronze medallion. Her blog, A Christian Writer’s World, received the Readers Choice Blog of the Year Award from the Book Club Network.
She has experience in screenwriting, acting, directing, and voice-overs. She has been featured in articles in Christian Fiction Online Magazine, ACFW Journal, Charisma Magazine, and Christian Retailing.
In addition to her writing, Lena is a frequent speaker at women’s groups, writers groups, and at both regional and national conferences. She has spoken in six states and internationally. She is also one of the co-hosts of the Along Came a Writer Blogtalk radio show.
Lena has an active web presence on Facebook, Twitter, Goodreads, Linkedin and with her internationally connected blog where she interviews other authors and promotes their books.
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Almost Home
by Susan Page Davis
Dedication
To Axel Clark Ballard, a true westerner.
Thought you’d like a cowboy story.
Once you learn to read, tell me what you think!
Love you,
Marmee
Ponder the path of thy feet, and let all thy ways be established.
PROVERBS 4:26
Chapter 1
December, 1913
Patricia stared out the window of the train as it pulled into the depot at Colorado Springs. Snow fell fast, and she could barely make out the boardinghouse across the street. Her hopes of making it home to the Logan ranch tonight plummeted.
When she stepped down onto the platform, she didn’t see John Ryder. She looked about anxiously until he suddenly appeared out of the driving snow.
“Mr. Ryder! Thank you for meeting me!” The wind snatched Patricia’s words as she hauled her leather bag out of the passenger car.
“Glad you made it through, Miss Logan.” Ryder reached to take her luggage, and Patricia pulled her wool scarf across her face. “This wind is mighty fierce. Just stick close to me, and we’ll get over to the house.” He set off with his head lowered.
Patricia followed, stepping in his deep boot prints in the snow. Even in the street, it was nearly a foot deep, and she felt the cold crystals falling down inside the tops of her boots.
They gained the porch of the Ryders’ boardinghouse, and he slammed the door behind them, shutting out the storm. The quiet warmth of the entry enveloped her. Mrs. Ryder, plump and maternal, came to the front door to meet her. Patricia longed to remove her wraps, shake off the snow, and sit before the cozy fire she could see through the parlor doorway.
But an even deeper longing prompted her to ask instead, “Will we be able to leave right away?”
Mr. Ryder eyed her as he unwound his red wool muffler. Patricia almost laughed because she could see the snowflakes that had clung to his arched eyebrows melting as she spoke.
“Can’t go anywhere tonight, Miss Logan.”
“Are you certain?” She’d anticipated his answer, but that didn’t ease her disappointment.
“Oh no, child,” his wife said. “The storm is too wild. I misdoubt the car could get down Main Street in this weather, let alone all the way to your uncle’s ranch.”
“Not a chance tonight,” John Ryder said. “Probably not tomorrow, either. You were lucky the train got this far.”
“But I need to get home.” She stopped, realizing the futility of her pleas. The conductor on the train had come through the car before they pulled up at the depot, advising all passengers to disembark as the locomotive would not likely go on tonight.
“We’ve got a room all prepared for you,” Mrs. Ryder said.
Patricia nodded in defeat. “I appreciate that. And I expect you’ll have extra guests tonight from the train.”
At that moment, a robust knock on the door sounded, and Mr. Ryder went to open it.
“Hello,” called the new arrival. “Any chance of getting a room tonight? The train is stopping here until morning.”
“Come on,” Mrs. Ryder said to Patricia in a conspiratorial whisper. “I knew you’d be disappointed that you had to stay over, but I’ve kept the best room for you.”
Patricia sighed and picked up her bag. Mrs. Ryder puffed up the stairs ahead of her and led her down the hall.
“Maybe a sleigh could get through tomorrow,” Patricia suggested. “Does Mr. Ryder have a sleigh?”
Her hostess shook her head. “We don’t keep horses anymore, Miss Logan, since we got the car. It’s too bad your uncle doesn’t have a telephone at the ranch so you could call him and tell him you’re safe. Here now. Your room is all snug and waiting for you.”
“Thank you.” Patricia entered the bedroom and realized how tired she was. When she’d left the Christmas party at her friend Thalia Bloom’s home, she rode to the train station in Denver with another friend, Natalie Daire, arriving on the platform at the last possible moment. She’d anticipated traveling late into the night, but now the four-poster bed with its handmade patchwork coverlet did look inviting.
When she was alone, she undressed and blew out the lamp. Pushing aside the ruffled curtains at the window over the street, she looked out. No automobiles or wagons traveled through the storm. The only movement was the blowing, drifting snow—falling fast, in a thick, swirling mass. No one would leave Colorado Springs until the storm was over.
A gray light streamed in through the window when Patricia woke. She hopped out of bed and hurried across the cold, bare floor. The clouds lowered and light snow was still falling, but the wind seemed to have abated. The deep snow that drifted unbroken across Main Street looked daunting, but Aunt Edna needed her, and Patricia was determined she would get home today.
She dressed and packed her things then went downstairs to the parlor, where she waited impatiently for Mrs. Ryder to serve breakfast. The stranded travelers who had filled the boardinghouse to capacity the night before began to fill the dining room. Patricia joined them, and all made introductions and exclaimed about the inclement weather. When Mr. Ryder appeared in the doorway and greeted them with a cheery “Good morning, all,” Patricia pounced on him.
“Mr. Ryder, is there any chance …?”
“I’m sorry, Miss Logan.” He gave a mournful shake of his head. “I don’t expect to take that car out of the carriage house until spring.”
“But …” Patricia stared at him. Her brained whirred, trying to come up with a solution.
Mrs. Ryder brought a platter of pancakes and a pitcher of warm syrup from the kitchen.
“You’d best hunker down here with us until your uncle Bill can fetch you in his sleigh.” She set the platter down before a hosiery salesman and a mine supervisor who had come in after Patricia the evening before.
Patricia sat down and ate her breakfast, thinking as she chewed. She refused coffee afterward and pushed back her chair. “I believe I’ll walk down to the livery stable and see if they can help me.”
Mr. Ryder blew on his steaming cup and sipped the hot liquid, then set it down. “Mrs. Ryder’s right. You won’t get out of this town today. It’s still snowing.”
“But it’s not so bad as it was.” Patricia eyed him, her hope shrinking like a snowdrift in bright sunlight.
He shook his head. “There’s more coming, if you ask my opinion. Not that you di
d.”
“Well, I’m going to give the livery a try.” Patricia turned to her hostess. “Thank you, Mrs. Ryder. Breakfast was delicious. If I find transportation, I’ll be back in a jiffy for my things.”
“Surely you’re not going out this morning,” Mrs. Ryder protested.
“I’m sure I can make it a few yards down the street to the stable.”
Mr. Ryder set his fork down and grimaced. “Won’t nobody be leaving town today. I suppose they might break the roads tomorrow if it doesn’t snow more.”
She swallowed hard. “I really can’t wait. My aunt needs me, and I promised her I’d only be gone two nights. I’m already a day overdue.”
He winced and shook his head doubtfully. “You might hire a sleigh from Ned Peakes at the livery. Perhaps. If the snow’s not too deep.”
“And a driver?”
Ryder shrugged. “Doubtful. Very doubtful.”
She stood thinking for a moment. She didn’t feel confident enough to set out on her own, driving a horse in winter, and she wasn’t at all sure she could find her way home alone in the snow-covered landscape. If Mr. Peakes couldn’t supply a driver, she would have to find someone willing to take her. She decided to face that hurdle when she reached it.
She went to the entry and wriggled into her coat, hat, and gloves, then opened the front door and ventured out into the glaring white world.
She would not allow herself to think that she would be stuck for another day in the town ten miles from Uncle Bill’s ranch. Somehow she would get home.
Well, Lord, I guess this is when I should ask You to show me how to get home. She refused to consider that it might be God’s will to delay her trip home. How could it be? Of course He wanted her at Aunt Edna’s side. Uncle Bill had married late in life, and he and Edna expected the arrival of their first child any day. Aunt Edna was a sweet and wise woman and had become dear to Patricia in the three years she had been Mrs. Bill Logan. Now, at age thirty-eight, she faced her first delivery. Uncle Bill was ecstatic about the coming child but worried that Edna would have a difficult birth. Patricia knew she had to get home, as much for Uncle Bill as for Aunt Edna.
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