by Vivi Holt
Chapter Six
The bells on the sleigh jingled, and in the dim twilight the snow glowed a faint greenish-gray in the light of the lamp that swung back and forth as they traveled. Margaret rested her hands in her lap and smiled at the small mittens that had found their way there as well. Danny snuggled against her, his hands wrapped in hers, his face almost obscured by the collar of her thick coat.
“Where we goin’ again?” asked Tommy sullenly. One sleeve of his coat hung loose at his side, his arm strapped tightly to his chest. He’d been dismayed to discover that the broken bone meant he had to wear a sling for at least six weeks.
Margaret glanced at him. “To Harry and Charlotte Brown’s house. We’re having supper there tonight, so please use your best manners. And no more broken bones tonight – I don’t think my heart could take it.”
The children nodded and giggled through their mufflers and scarves.
As they passed through town, they exclaimed in delight over the trees being decorated here and there. The annual tree-trimming contest was well underway, and the judging committee would gather the following day to examine them all before they announced the winners. Curious folks stood around, watching and commenting on the decorations as they were added. Margaret’s eyes swept over each tree, and she marveled at how people had created such beautiful decorations from everyday things.
Heath pulled the sleigh to a halt, and the children begged to be allowed to climb down so they could get a better look.
“No, my dears,” Margaret replied. “We’re already late for supper. We’ll just look from here and move on. I promise we’ll take a better look tomorrow when we can all walk through town together.” Danny whined and stamped his feet on the floor of the sleigh, but Margaret held firm.
The closest tree to them was in the window of the mercantile, being decorated by Abigail and Jasper Smith, the couple who owned the store. Across the street, Rev. Latsch was outside, watching his wife Mary pin strings of popcorn to the tree in the front window of the parsonage. Margaret heard Jasper make a remark about Rev. Latsch’s tree. She couldn’t quite hear what he said.
But the reverend did, and she saw his face redden. “Pride goeth before destruction, Jasper,” he responded.
“Oh, not this time,” said Jasper, grinning as he came outside. “That prize is all mine. Just look at the full branches on my tree. And Abigail handmade all these cut-out snowflakes. You can’t cheat your way into a win this year, Reverend.” He chuckled and turned away.
Heath leaned forward and laughed, then whispered in Margaret’s ear. “Oh, now he’s done it. The reverend looks mad enough to kick a stump. Jasper’s in for it, you mark my words.”
Just then, the reverend leaned forward with a low chortle and picked up a large handful of snow. He packed it together firmly as his eyes followed Jasper’s retreating back. Then he pulled his hand back and let the snowball fly. It hit Jasper firmly in the back of the head.
Jasper turned around to face him, his eyebrows arched in surprise. “Did you just throw a snowball at me?” he asked.
Rev. Latsch chuckled and nodded, lifting his hands up on either side with a shrug of his shoulders. Jasper reached down, made his own snowball and lobbed it at the reverend, who ducked, laughing, back into his doorway. “You’ll have to move faster than that to get me, Jasper!”
Jasper huffed in frustration and began fixing three more snowballs, making sure to pack them tightly as he could. Meanwhile, the reverend was doing the same. In a few moments, snowballs were flying in every direction as others came out to join the fight.
Margaret’s eyes widened in dismay as a snowball barely missed hitting Mary Beth. “Oh dear, I think we should keep going,” she told Heath – just before a large ball of snow and ice landed hard against her right cheek, leaving a red mark on her face. Snow fell down her neck and into her coat. “Ouch! Oooh, it’s cold!”
Heath covered his mouth with his hand, obviously trying desperately not to laugh at her as he climbed back up and set the reins against the horses’ backs, sending them into a trot. Margaret’s eyes narrowed, and she reached into her scarf, pulled out a handful of snow and shoved it down the back of Heath’s coat collar, whereupon he yelped in dismay.
The children were laughing hysterically now, rolling around dangerously in the sleigh as it sped along the road. Heath fidgeted, trying to dislodge the melting snow snaking down his back. Margaret burst into laughter at the sight and howled until the tears ran down her cheeks.
When the snow in his shirt had finally melted, he sat back on his seat beside her and grinned. “Be careful what you start, Miss Hutchins,” he whispered with a wink.
Her heart thudded in her chest. Suddenly she was very aware of how close he was, and she felt a shiver of pleasure run through her as her face flushed pink. Even in the midst of the frigid wind that buffeted the sleigh, she suddenly felt very warm.
The sleigh pulled up the long hill and in front of a cozy house, already lit with lanterns. Margaret hurried the children inside while Heath continued on to the barn where Harry had told him to stable the horses. They were greeted at the door by Charlotte, who helped them unwind scarves, remove mittens and lay coats along a bench by the wall. “Come in, come in!” she cried, with a welcoming smile.
She led them inside, where her father Lord Edward Beaufort sat before the fire, a pipe between his lips. He stood to greet them. Mary, Charlotte’s former maid from her previous life in England, was there too. She sat with a basket of mending by her side and a shirt in her lap, looking up with a smile as they entered.
“Johnny and Anna are so excited you’ve come – they’ve been waiting to meet you all day.” Charlotte turned to face Margaret. “And before you leave, please remind me to send these bags of groceries home with you.” She pointed to several bulging burlap bags lined up against the wall in the hallway.
The children smiled shyly and followed Charlotte into the living room where two-year-old Johnny and one-year-old Anna were waiting to grab their hands, pull them around and chatter their ears off. Margaret laughed as she watched the exchanges. They’d all be firm friends in no time at all.
***
Heath tapped on the chipped timber that framed the farmhouse’s front door. No one answered, so he knocked louder, then pushed the door open a few inches to announce his presence.
Voices drifted out to greet him. “Why do I have to dress up as a dadgum angel?” Frank Singer objected. “I look like a sissy.” Heath could see him standing in the kitchen, papier-maché wings dangling from the back of his coat, a cut-out halo resting on his head. His brow was furrowed, his arms crossed over his chest.
“We’re all angels this Christmas.” Margaret patted his arm and adjusted his halo.
Heath couldn’t see her face, but heard the smile in her words and grinned at the halo pressed down over her own dark tresses. “Hello!” he called through the cracked door.
Margaret spun around to face him and smiled widely as she walked over to greet him. “Mr. Moore, you’re just in time. We’re ready to go to the parade. As you can see, we’re all Christmas angels … though some of us are happier about the costumes than others.”
“I wanna be a cowboy!” cried Frank with a stamp of his foot on the kitchen floor. The wings fell from his back and landed in a pile on the kitchen floor. He looked at the wings, then up at her with a grin.
Margaret grimaced. “Time to go!” she called up the stairs as she retrieved the wings with arched eyebrows and refitted them onto Frank’s back. He wrinkled his nose and sighed loudly.
A stampede of footsteps down the staircase soon followed, and five little angels paraded into the kitchen to join them. Heath hid a grin behind his hand. They didn’t look like the same children who’d crowded into his sleigh that first night outside the chapel. Their faces glowed with health, and they were talking excitedly in anticipation of the Christmas parade.
Mary Beth’s face was the only sullen one. She stood with hands on her hips an
d rolled her eyes. “Can we please just go?”
“We’re leaving in a moment,” Margaret replied, rushing around to help the younger children as her halo slid around precariously on top of her head.. “Does everyone have their scarves, hats and mittens? And Mary Beth, did you decide what you wanted to bake for the competition tonight?”
Mary Beth sighed. “I don’t care. You make whatever you want.”
Margaret finished winding a scarf around Tommy’s neck, stood up straight and regarded Mary Beth coolly. “I’d like us to do it together.”
“If we must,” Mary Beth huffed, rolling her eyes again.
Margaret smiled at Heath wryly and adjusted her halo with both hands. “I understand how you feel, Mary Beth, but please speak to me with respect. Ready, everyone? Let’s go!” She picked up a satchel, and they all crowded out the door together and piled into Heath’s sleigh. He’d brought the furs with him again, and she packed them around the children, tucking them in snugly together on the hard seats.
The air bit into Heath’s skin as the horses cantered toward town. The landscape sparkled in the morning light as the sun rose slowly above the soaring peaks, providing a striking backdrop to the small town. Birds flitted between the spindly evergreens and bare branches of oaks, twittering and diving.
Heath pulled up at the edge of town, beside the other vehicles preparing to join the parade. People scurried here and there, dressed as shepherds, wise men, Mary, Joseph, donkeys, sheep, and various other livestock. There were even a few other angels flying around. The children took it all in with wide eyes as they clambered down to stand in the snow.
Margaret and Heath joined them, and soon a large crowd of children from Margaret’s class gathered around, all vying for Margaret’s attention. “Miss Hutchins! Miss Hutchins!” They tugged at her skirts, showing off their costumes and chirping like a flock of sparrows in the spring.
The Singer children watched it all shyly. Mary Beth looked at Margaret as if seeing her for the first time. Her eyebrows arched slightly and there was a hint of pride behind her hazel eyes.
“Children, children, one at a time! I’m so glad to see all of you – I’ve missed you!” Margaret laughed, patting heads and chucking chins.
Heath watched her with a smile. She was obviously a beloved teacher, and his heart warmed at the sight. She’d made it clear on the night she’d brought the Singers home for the first time that they were her top priority now, but the other kids in town had a place in her heart too. He frowned as he remembered the look on her face – it seemed there was no place in her life for a beau. But why did that bother him so much?
He’d grown to care for her more than he’d realized – and the dawning knowledge made his heart thud.
Margaret pulled a paper sign from her satchel and held it up for the children to see. On it were written the words, “Cutter’s Creek School.” The sign had been decorated the previous day by the Singer children, who seemed to regard it with a mixture of pride and embarrassment. She smiled and winked at them as she and Heath fixed it to the back of the sleigh. The schoolchildren joined in attaching the rest of the decorations, including fluffy cotton clouds, paper snowflakes and angels, and sprigs of evergreen branches.
Before long the sleigh was ready and the parade had begun. Heath helped Margaret lift the smallest children in and they soon set off. The schoolkids who didn’t fit into the sleigh walked beside it, waving and smiling to the crowds lining both sides of the main street of Cutter’s Creek. Their sleigh followed close behind a wagonful of hay, manned by staff from the feed supply store dressed as cattle, horses and hogs.
As the parade of wagons, sleighs and parade-goers moved slowly along, Heath held the reins loosely in his hands, nodding and tipping his hat to people as they passed by. He marveled at how the whole town had come out to cheer.
Soon the older children began dashing from the slow-moving sleigh to look at the trees in the store and house windows, examining every decoration with awe and exclamations of approval. Each one chose a tree they thought most likely to win, then laughed and teased each other over their selections before returning to their places in the parade.
At the end of the street, as the parade came to its conclusion, the townsfolk gathered in another open field, where a bonfire had been lit. As soon as the sleigh pulled to a stop, the children tumbled out with waves and goodbyes before searching for their parents.
“Thank you, Mr. Moore, for allowing us to use your sleigh,” said Margaret, her brown eyes sparkling.
“You’re very welcome, Miss Hutchins. I’m glad I could help.” He leaped down to the thick snow and began picketing the horses.
Margaret sighed and scanned the crowd. Her children had dispersed with the others and were running in various directions, throwing sticks into the bonfire, building snowmen, sliding on the icy snow in their boots with shouts and squeals of laughter. She smiled and caught Heath’s gaze with a blush.
He grinned, and sauntered toward her. “You make quite the angel,” he said, tapping her halo with a finger and tipping it alarmingly to one side.
She laughed and shook her head as she righted it. “You do say the most charming things, Mr. Moore.” They walked together toward the bonfire. She slipped her hands behind her back and he followed suit. “What are your plans for Christmas day?” she asked him with a glance at his face. Her eyes were full of hope.
“I don’t have any plans as such. I usually just spend the day at home with my housekeeper and the ranch hands who don’t have families.”
“Oh,” They walked on in silence for a few moments. “It’s just that … if you didn’t have any plans, you’d be most welcome to join us at the farmhouse. I know it probably doesn’t sound particularly appealing to spend the holiday with me and six children. It certainly won’t be peaceful. But I can promise you food – I love to cook, and Christmas is my favorite holiday. I usually bake for days beforehand, and this year I’m so excited – I have so many mouths to feed. I know that sounds strange, but I’ve never had a family to cook for. Lately I’ve spent Christmas as a guest in other people’s homes and it was wonderful, but this year, I get to spend it in my own home with my family, and … oh well, I can’t tell you how happy that makes me. And it would be even better if you’d join us. I’ve come to think of you as something of a family member, really – the children adore you, and I know they’d love you to be there –”
“I’d love to join you,” he interrupted, grinning heartily.
She sighed and smiled happily beside him, and his heart sang with joy. He knew now that she cared for him the way he did for her. She saw him as part of the family. And for the first time he let himself hope that, one day soon, he would be – in every sense of the word.
Chapter Seven
Heath stood and chatted amicably with Harry Brown by the bonfire about a new project, his arms folded comfortably across his wide chest. Harry wanted to build a home for his father-in-law Lord Edward. It was rare anyone in Cutter’s Creek got the chance to build a place as large and lavish as Edward was used to, and the two men enjoyed discussing the endless possibilities. There were always limitations of distance and resources to consider out here on the edge of the frontier, but that just made things more interesting …
“Danny! Danny?!” Margaret rushed across the field, her eyes wide with worry.
Heath frowned as she drew closer. “What is it, Miss Hutchins?” he asked when she arrived, taking her hands in his.
“It’s Danny – I can’t find him anywhere! We were getting ready to leave, and the other children were gathered around me when I realized he wasn’t with them. I asked where he was, and no one seemed to know! Oh dear, it’s so cold and the sun is setting – we have to find him! He’s only four, so he could have wandered off anywhere without thinking. Oh, it’s all my fault! I should have watched him more closely. He was right here a few minutes ago, and now …”
“It’ll be okay – we’ll find him. I’ll get a few people to help
us look.” Heath squeezed her hands once, then turned to Harry for help. Harry immediately set off to look for Danny toward town. Heath went around the dying bonfire to speak with the townsfolk who hadn’t yet left, and several of them spread out in every direction to search.
Heath ran toward the Yellowstone River, the one place he hoped the boy hadn’t gone. Though the ice was thick this time of year on some parts of the river, there were still plenty of hazards along the river’s edge. If Danny had made it to the rapids beneath the bridge where the river curved around the outside of the town, he might fall through the thin ice. God, please be with Danny right now. Keep him safe, and show me where to find him.
He ran for several minutes before he made it to the river, and his heart fell as he saw a trail of small bootprints headed straight for the bank. He followed the tracks as they meandered along the riverbank, then down it and onto the ice, disappearing on the hard surface.
He continued the direction they’d been going before they vanished, and soon heard the sound of running water. The rapids! He broke into a run again, skidding and slipping on the ice. As he rounded a bend in the river, he saw the bridge into Cutter’s Creek spanning the narrowest section of the river. Beneath it, the rapids could be heard clearly under a thin layer of ice in the quiet evening.
And there was Danny lying on his stomach on the ice, reaching out as far as he could toward a break where the water bubbled and frothed over a large rock. He had a stick in his hand and was attempting to shove it into the fast-moving current. Heath could see his tongue poking out the side of his mouth in concentration.
“Danny! Don’t move! Stay where you are – I’m coming!” Heath cried, hurrying toward the boy. As he drew closer, he slowed his approach and looked around carefully. The ice beneath him was thick and solid, but not where Danny was.
Danny turned his head to look at him in confusion. Heath had never spoken so firmly to him before. He pushed himself to his feet in a hurry, his face downcast.