The Christmas Calamity

by Shanna Hatfield

  “I’m sure he wouldn’t have gone far, Mrs. Decker. Does he have a horse or any means of leaving town?”

  “We keep a horse at the livery, but Mr. McIntosh assured me the horse is still there. Fred didn’t take anything with him, just his coat when he left. I don’t know that he even had a penny in his pocket when he ran off.” Mrs. Decker wailed, frightening the younger children. “What if some wild animal got him? Mr. Stratton killed that big cougar wandering around town a year ago. What if another one came back and got my Fred?”

  Some of the first-graders began to cry. Alex quickly ushered Mrs. Decker outside, closing the door behind her. The cold air hit her like a slap in the face, but she set aside her discomfort and focused on the hysterical woman on the schoolhouse steps.

  “Mrs. Decker, have you gone to the sheriff? Is your husband out looking for him?”

  “When I told the sheriff Fred disappeared, he had the gall to say he wondered what took the boy so long. Mr. Decker is… um… he’s not well today, or he’d be looking for Fred.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that, Mrs. Decker. The sheriff will let everyone know to keep an eye out for Fred. Please, why don’t you go home and wait there? When Fred returns, you don’t want to miss him.”

  The woman stopped sniffling and dabbed at her tears. “That’s right; I need to be at home for my Fred.” She bustled down the steps and hurried back toward the heart of town and her home.

  The chilly air, laced with the scent of wood smoke and pine trees, filled her lungs. Alex rolled her eyes heavenward and took a moment to say a prayer and gather her thoughts before opening the door and returning to her students.

  It took her nearly half an hour to calm her class and assure the children wild animals weren’t running loose in town and there was no reason to be upset.

  “Shall we read a story?” She asked, hoping that would restore both order and a sense of calm to her charges. Picking up her copy of Little Women, Alex settled into a chair close to the stove and the children huddled around her, listening to the adventures of the March sisters.

  By the time she released the class for the day, exhaustion tugged at her shoulders and dogged her steps. Hurriedly cleaning the classroom and banking the fire in the stove, she gathered her things and walked with a weary tread to her little home.

  As she opened the door, a sweet scent lingered in the air and she recalled the cookies she’d baked early that morning. Arlan’s impending arrival to supper and the delivery on his promise of a trumpet concert infused her with a measure of exhilaration.

  For a moment, she considered telling him to come another time, but the thought of his kisses chased away her fatigue and renewed her energy.

  Eagerly anticipating her evening with him, she made a filling casserole and slid it into the oven to bake then mixed up the dry ingredients for a batch of biscuits and set it aside.

  While the casserole cooked, she graded the students’ assignments, put the final touches on her lesson plans for the following day, and finished mixing the biscuits. She dropped them onto a baking pan and slid it into the oven.

  After clearing the table, she placed plates and cutlery at two place settings then set out a jar of jam Filly gave her along with creamy butter. Filling the kettle with water, she set it on the stove then glanced in the mirror to make sure her hairpins held her uncooperative hair in place.

  A tap at the door made her smile. Arlan was right on time.

  “Come in,” she called as she took the biscuits out of the oven and set the pan on a folded dishtowel on the counter. The door opened and Arlan stepped inside, sporting a frustrated glower on his normally cheerful face.

  “What have I told you about keeping the door locked?” he asked, as he closed the door and set down his trumpet case. “What have we all told you about keeping your door locked? I could have been Fred, planning to unleash nefarious deeds upon you.”

  Alex laughed and rolled her eyes as she transferred the biscuits to a bowl and covered it with a cloth to keep it warm. “Fred wouldn’t bother to knock. Moreover, I’ve already told you, Luke, and the rest of the hovering men of the school board, I can take care of myself. Besides, if Fred burst through my door, I’d order him to go home to Mrs. Decker. His mother created quite a scene at school this morning searching for him.”

  “She what?” Arlan had one arm out of his coat sleeve but stopped and stared at her. “Why did she think he’d be at the school?”

  “I assume desperation drove her to seek him there. She said her husband arrived home and he and Fred had a disagreement. The boy disappeared Saturday evening and she hasn’t seen him since. I’m sure he’s lurking around here somewhere.”

  “Most likely. The boy lacks the gumption to actually leave town and support himself. I hadn’t heard Mr. Decker returned. He must be home for the holiday season.” Arlan didn’t sound particularly pleased at the prospect.

  “Is there something about Mr. Decker I should know?” Alex set the casserole on the table then filled glasses with water from the pump at the sink.

  “No. He’s a friendly enough sort, there’s just something about him that seems… off.” Arlan held her chair while she took a seat then sat across from her.

  After offering thanks for the meal, Arlan asked her more questions about Mrs. Decker’s visit.

  “She had half the class in tears, wailing about a wild animal eating Fred.” Alex buttered a biscuit with enough force to make it crumble into thirds on her plate. A sigh floated out of her as she set down her knife. “Although the students finally quieted and returned to their studies, it was the most exhausting day I’ve had since Fred stopped attending classes.”

  “I’m sorry, Alexandra. Wild animals? She really mentioned wild animals?”

  Alex nodded.

  Arlan shook his head. “The last wild creature we had in these parts was a cougar Blake shot last year. The beast looked for easy prey and started killing some of the livestock around town. It took down one of Blake’s colts. He and a few of the other farmers tracked it out to Luke’s place. The cougar knocked Blake right out of the saddle but he shot it with his revolver.”

  “Good heavens! Did he get hurt?”

  “Yes, he did. An impressive set of claw marks on his arm required stitches, but it didn’t slow him down enough to keep from marrying Ginny a few days later. It was certainly an exciting week leading up to Christmas last year. They wed after the Christmas Eve service to keep some fancy-pants millionaire from New York from dragging her back East with him.”

  At Alex’s astonished expression, he smiled and forked a bite of the casserole. “This is quite tasty, dear lady. Thank you for making me dinner.”

  “You’re welcome. Just don’t let word get around that I possess any domestic skills. If people find out I can cook and clean, my aura of mystique is sure to suffer.”

  “Your secret is safe with me. For now.” Arlan grinned when she glared at him.

  “I have ways of keeping you quiet so you better behave or I’ll use them.”

  Arlan’s gaze settled on her inviting ruby lips. If she planned to keep him quiet by plying him with kisses, he was all for that method of silence.

  “Don’t get any crazy ideas, Mr. Guthry.” Her gaze carried both longing and amusement as she turned her attention back to her meal. “You better be careful or I might practice some of my illusions on you.”

  Boldly, Arlan leaned forward and removed the fork from her hand before pulling her fingers to his lips. He pressed a kiss to the back of her hand and lifted his eyes to hers. “You can practice anything you want, as long as I get…”

  Alex fell into the bottomless depths of his blue eyes. “Get what, Arlan?”

  With agonizing slowness, he kissed the tip of each finger, holding her spellbound with his heated gaze. “Cookies. Several cookies.”

  As she registered his words, she didn’t know whether to laugh or reach across the table and give him a good smack for his teasing. She yanked her hand away and picked u
p her fork. “I’m not sure you deserve any after that.”

  “Please? I could smell them all the way down the street.”

  “You could not. I baked them this morning.”

  “And that delicious aroma lingered in the air all day, tormenting me until I could race through town and claim several for my own.”

  Alex laughed when he stared at the cookie plate on the counter with fond adoration. “You’re impossible, Arlan. I’d refuse to let you inside if you weren’t so entertaining.”

  “Since you don’t lock your door, I’d barge right in regardless of your welcome.”

  “You’re too fussy and stuffy to do such a thing.” Alex goaded him, enjoying their banter. She’d yet to spend time with Arlan and not feel invigorated by the experience.

  Silently, he finished his casserole and helped himself to another biscuit. Calmly buttering it and spreading it with jam, he set it on his plate then reached up and mussed his hair with a ruthless hand.

  As he waggled his eyebrows at her and bit into his biscuit, Alex cocked an eyebrow at him, wishing she could run her fingers through his hair.

  After they finished dinner and Arlan helped her with the dishes, she sat in the rocking chair and listened as he played several songs on the trumpet.

  Although he claimed to have no talent at it, he played with an engaging ease that left her wishing for more when he finally returned the trumpet to the case.

  “That was wonderful, Arlan. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. Did you enjoy it enough I can have some cookies now?”

  Arlan didn’t care about the sweets nearly as much as he did about making Alex smile. While she set several cookies on a plate for him, he sidled up behind her and placed a tender kiss to her neck.

  “You’re something special, Alexandra. I hope you know that.”

  Rattled by his words, she inched away from him and set the plate on the table then busied herself making tea.

  Arlan sat at the table, wondering if it was his praise or his presence that left her unsettled.

  Whatever the reason, he decided to explore it another day. For now, he found contentment in sharing a few lighthearted moments with her and enjoying delicious cookies.

  Alex watched Arlan through a lowered gaze as he ate his treat and drank his tea. The sweetness of his kiss and the kindness of his words threatened to make her cry. Something she hadn’t done in a very long time and didn’t plan to start now.

  The only way to gain control of the emotions that roiled just beneath the surface was to step away from Arlan.

  She wished she could tell him what was in her heart. She wished she could let herself love him without reservation. She wished she could stay with him in Hardman forever.

  Wishes wouldn’t make anything real, though. Alex knew that better than most anyone.

  Quiet as they finished dessert, she set the dishes in the sink while Arlan slipped on his coat and tugged on his gloves.

  Before he settled his hat on his head, she reached up and ran her fingers through his hair, smoothing it back into his normal style. Framing his face with her hands, she pressed her lips to his softly and released a sigh.

  “Thank you for a lovely evening, Arlan.”

  Hot blue flames flickered in his eyes when she lifted her gaze to his. “The companionship you provide is worth its weight in gold and on top of it, I had the pleasure of a fine meal. Many thanks to you, Alex.”

  “You know you’re welcome anytime.”

  He nodded and opened the door then picked up his trumpet case. After he settled the hat on his head, he kissed her cheek then hurried outside into the cold. Alex stood in the door, shivering, watching him trudge down the street through the swirling snow. Once he disappeared, she closed and locked the door.

  Restless, she practiced a few magic tricks she planned to perform at the carnival, but couldn’t get past the feeling someone watched her every move.

  After checking the windows and the lock on her door, she forced herself to go to bed.

  Furtively attempting to find a warm spot on the cool sheets, her thoughts settled on Arlan and she fell into a peaceful sleep.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Startled awake, Alex sat up in bed unable to decide what awoke her. Quietly lighting the lamp next to the bed, she glanced around the room but couldn’t distinguish anything amiss. With painstaking slowness, she slid out of bed and carried the light into the main room, but nothing there warranted any concern either.

  Since she was up, she stoked the stove and glanced at the wall clock. An hour away from her usual time of rising, she returned to the bedroom and dressed for the day.

  After styling her hair and jabbing in enough pins to keep it in place, she splashed her face with the cold water in the basin on the commode. A soft piece of toweling absorbed the moisture on her cheeks and chin. Carelessly tossing it on a hook to dry, Alex hurried into the front room and made breakfast, driven by an urgency to be ready for whatever might come.

  Unable to say what compelled her to do so, she returned to the bedroom and changed into a pair of trousers then pulled on an extra layer of socks before tugging on her boots. A warm sweater soon topped the blouse she wore then she took down her hair and twisted it into a long braid, fastening the end with a piece of ribbon.

  Once again returning to the front room, she added more wood to the fire in the stove and refilled the kettle, sliding it toward the back where it would stay warm but not boil dry.

  Lifting the thick woolen coat that belonged to her father from the hook by the door, Alex slid her arms into the sleeves then wrapped a scarf around her neck and ears. Uncertain as to what force pulled her outside into the dark and cold, she yanked on her warmest pair of gloves and opened the door.

  A pristine layer of snow covered every surface as she closed the door to the house and walked down the steps with a lantern in her hand. Although the sun had yet to rise, the darkness began to recede as dawn approached.

  Alex started in the direction of the small tool shed where the school board kept an ax, shovel, and assortment of basic tools. Two steps that direction she stopped, drawn to the woods behind the school.

  With no explanation why, she followed her instincts into the woods and kept one hand in her pocket, ready to pull out the revolver should the need arise to use it.

  The tracks of a few animals left imprints in the snow, but nothing else marred the white world surrounding her.

  Attentively listening to the sounds in the fading darkness, not a single disturbing noise carried across the still morning air.

  The acrid scent of smoke from a fire tickled her nose and she followed it. It drifted from a mine back in the trees where Fred liked to go. Suddenly, she wondered if the boy hid there and stopped to consider the best plan of action.

  The distance back to town was equal to that of the mine so she decided to forge ahead and hope for the best.

  Cautiously approaching the entrance to the mine, Alex hid behind a cluster of trees. Smoke rose in the air from a fire near the front of the mine. A shrouded figure curled beside it and she knew it was Fred. As she started to back away, she heard him moan in pain.

  Without giving a thought to her safety, she stood and covered the distance to him in a few long strides.

  Alex set the lantern on the ground and carefully rolled Fred toward the light. His beaten face made her gasp in shock and take a staggering step back. Two blackened eyes, a swollen lip, and a deep cut on his cheek made his face appear grotesque in the flickering light cast from the fire and the lantern.

  “Fred? Fred, can you hear me? It’s Miss Alex.” Afraid any movement might inflict further harm, she gently patted the cheek that didn’t bear a cut. “Fred! You need to wake up.”

  Disoriented, he groaned again and mumbled something she couldn’t understand. She tapped his cheek again and he worked one eye open a slit.

  “Who is it?” he asked in a thick voice.

  “Miss Alex, your schoolteacher. We need t
o get you back to town and out of the cold.”

  “No!” Fred forced both eyes open. She saw the desperation in them and nodded her head.

  “If you don’t want to go back to town, at least come back to my house. You’ll die out here, Fred.”

  “Don’t care.” He started to roll over but Alex grabbed his arm and pulled him back toward the light.

  “Well, I do. Now, you can get to your feet and walk there like a man or I’ll drag you on this blanket, but you’re going just the same.”

  Too weak to argue with her, Fred sat up and let the dizziness pass before he rose to his knees and then his feet. Unhurriedly making their way back to her cozy little house, he leaned heavily on her with each painful step.

  At one point, she thought her own legs might buckle beneath the added weight, but she kept going.

  A sigh of relief escaped her when her house came into sight. She tightened her grip around Fred and offered encouragement. “Almost there, Fred. You can do it.”

  He grunted in response. When she opened her door and helped him inside, he braced himself against the wall near the stove and slid down to the floor.

  Concerned by Fred’s ghastly skin tone, Alex moved the warm kettle to the front of the stove to heat the water. She hurried to her room to retrieve two bricks she’d wrapped and taken to bed with her to warm the sheets the previous evening. Placing them in the stove, she warmed the bricks while she searched for something to feed Fred. She retrieved some broth she’d been saving to make stew for her dinner, setting it to heat.

  Swiftly removing her outerwear, she made a cup of tea and held it to Fred’s lips. He turned his head away at first, but she continued placing the cup to his lips and finally he accepted the drink and swallowed.

  His hands came up and wrapped around the warm mug as he drank the steaming liquid. When she was sure he could hold it on his own, she stood and tested the broth. It felt hot, but not boiling.

  Fred drained the tea in a few gulps. She took the cup and filled it with the nutritious broth then held it to his mouth. He took the cup from her and sipped slowly.