by Angela Lain
RESCUING THE FERGUSONS
Christmas Rescue
BOOK TWELVE
ANGELA LAIN
Copyright 2020 Angela Lain
Independently published
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner of this book.
Christmas Rescue
Here’s where to find the rest of the series:
https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B08121FXK3
Many thanks to the other authors in this series. A big thank you to Virginia McKevitt for the beautiful covers she created for this series
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
CHAPTER ONE
End of October 1872
C haris stared at the papers on the table in front of her.
“You cannot be serious? The deeds to the farm? But… you were selling the farm to help finance this move to San Francisco.”
“There has been a change of plan, Elouise and I are no longer moving to stay in San Francisco.” Her father glanced over at his new wife, a look of adoration on his face. “We are going to China, to fulfil my beautiful wife’s long held dream.”
“What?” Charis knew it sounded uncouth, but at this second her thoughts were in a scramble. “But, what about me? What of our plans in San Francisco?”
“I’m sorry, Charis. That is why I am giving you the deeds to the farm. I will never return to that dismal place. Elouise and I are going to the mystic land of China, to seek.our future.”
To Charis’ ears he sounded… odd… infatuated. Truth be told he was infatuated, with his new wife of three months! At this moment he would deny her nothing. Since Elouise Lovell (nee Chapman) had made no secret about her dislike of her new step-daughter, Charis was hardly surprised she was being cut adrift.
Her father was going away and leaving her. She was no longer a child, but to be left alone in the world in such a manner was not pleasant.
“You always loved the old place, do with it what you will. Sell it, live in it, farm it, ranch it. You and your mother always had plans. I am away from this dull existence.”
Charis regarded him in despair. Yes, her mother had such plans, but her father had never truly believed in any of them. If he had worked at it, the farm would not have failed. Her mother had worked her fingers to the bone, while her father had always had some excuse about things being too hard. It was too hot, or too cold, or there was not enough rain, or something. It had never been his fault. When they had left the homestead near Jessop Creek she had been ten years old, too young to realize how little commitment he had shown to make a go of things.
When they had arrived in growing city of Denver, he had worked at a number of things, putting money into gold mining, and trading, but he’d never been the success he had wished to be. He had invested money in a property built in Cherry Creek, and had lost everything in the flood of 1864.
They had moved on to Omaha, and he had taken up with a man who ran a mercantile. Once again, things were fine, for a while.
When Charis turned fifteen she was helping her mother in a laundry, in order that they might make ends meet. Then her mother sickened and died, and Charis was left to try to keep her father on the straight and narrow, while he dabbled in any number of schemes. It wasn’t simple, he still fell for every ‘get rich quick’ scam available.
Time passed, they moved on again, this time to the wild and wide open railway town of Cheyenne. Here, by some ridiculous stroke of fortune, he won a gold claim in a card game.
Suddenly he had money, he had workers, he had a business. Just as quickly he gained friends, and a new wife! Call Charis a cynic, but she knew the only reason Elouise Chapman had even looked at her father, was because of his money. Fifteen years her father’s junior, Elouise Chapman was a flashy looking widow, with an eye for a chance, and she saw such a chance with Sidney Lovell.
She had been a hostess in the ‘high class’ club in which he had gambled. He won the gold claim, and she had made a claim of her own!
And here he was once more, making wild decisions, decisions encouraged by his money-grabbing new wife.
Maybe taking the deeds and heading back to the farm was the best decision that Charis could make, but she had to at least try to make him see sense.
“Father, are you sure this is a good idea?”
“And you wonder why we don’t ask you to accompany us?” Elouise’s sneer was obvious. “You are unsupportive of your father and everything he does. No surprise he wishes to leave you and your ghastly red hair behind.”
It was a remark designed to be hurtful.
“Father…” Charis began. She caught the condescending look he was giving her, and gave up. He wasn’t even going to defend her. “Fine.” She picked up the deeds from the table. “I hope you will be very happy.”
She turned towards the door, cut to the quick, and thanking the Good Lord that she had taken after her mother when the good sense was handed out. Inheriting her red hair was another issue entirely.
“Charis?” She turned back to see what her father’s final words would be. “I will give you funds before we depart. Make sure the deeds end up where they should.”
She gave him a sharp nod and marched out of the door of the smart apartment they had been renting. What exactly did he mean by that? She would deposit them with the bank in Laramie as any sensible person would do, before she travelled back to the homestead outside Jessop Creek.
The truth was Charis would far prefer the homestead to the city. She had been prepared to go with her father and his obnoxious new wife to San Francisco, with an eye to her future. She had harbored some vague ambitions to become a veterinarian, she had always loved animals and wanted to help any which were in trouble. In order to do such a thing she would need to stay in the city, and she’d had some idea of her newly affluent father helping to pay for the training. But it seemed this would never be; unless…?
She sold the farm?
Would it raise enough funds?
Did she dare? At least at the moment she had a place to live; somewhere which did not require rent paid, month after month.
Maybe her best course was to return to the homestead for the winter, and make enquiries about Veterinary school for next year?
This presumed that, after ten years of abandonment, the house was actually still standing.
Since the death of her mother Charis had lived in a perpetually changing environment. Her father moved them from place to place, from expensive rented premises to cheap dives, depending on his financial state. They had moved from town to town, lodging to lodging, ending up here in Cheyenne. To return to the homestead, to somewhere solid and permanent would be a relief for Charis. She would be alone, but she had felt alone for a long time, so where was the difference?
***
Her father’s plans for China materialized swiftly, the sailing date was less than two weeks away. It was obvious he had organized this many weeks ago, and never told her. That thought hardened her resolve to take any money he offered, she would not be coy and polite and refuse funds.
To her relief he gave her actual notes in her hand a week before he was due to sail, enabling her to vacat
e this expensive apartment and set out for the homestead. Her father and his wife meanwhile boarded the train for San Francisco and a ship to the Orient.
Charis packed two smallish bags; she didn’t have much, possessions had come and gone, they had moved so often, and they’d not had a place of their own. She had hoped, now her father had money, that this would change. It had certainly done that, but not at all in the way she had expected.
Cheyenne was closer to Jessop Creek than any other place they had recently lived, which was one blessing. She could get on the railroad to Laramie, where she would find some means of traveling the twenty odd miles to Jessop Creek.
Luck was with her, it was late morning when she descended from the train, and within the hour she had found a merchant who was loaded and travelling to Jessop Creek. A lumber wagon was hardly high class travel, but it served her need.
By mid-afternoon she was marching along the main street in the chill November wind, heading for the Jessop Creek Livery barn. She had visited the mercantile, purchased necessities and stuffed them in the top of her bag. Now she was going to purchase a pony and harness. When Charis put her mind to something she didn’t waste time.
She left the town with her bags aboard the pony and on her own two feet. She wore an everyday dress; to climb aboard on the main street while wearing a dress was asking for censure. At the moment she wanted to remain as unobtrusive as possible.
Once she’d climbed aboard, the six miles to the homestead sped by despite the bitter wind. It was a great relief to see the house and small barn still standing. The house still had doors, windows and a roof, although it looked very shabby, with cracked panes and tiles.
She put the pony in the small pole corral, which had grass in it. Water she would get from the well, please God it was still drinkable, if not she would need to walk to the stream which lay a mile distant.
The house door opened under her hand. The place was cobwebby and dingy, but very familiar. They had left a great deal behind, and it seemed to still be here, even after ten years.
She collected wood which still lay in the shed, and built a fire, to her relief smoke came out of the chimney top, so it wasn’t blocked. She was lucky too with the water. She gave some to the pony, and lugged the old bucket inside. It wasn’t exactly spotless, but she would boil anything she drank.
She set the old kettle on the fire and pulled the bedstead away from the cobweb-hung wall. Tonight she would put the bedroll she had purchased on the bedstead. Tomorrow she would set to cleaning and sorting.
The November sun was fast slipping below the horizon, and she was relieved she’d had the forethought to buy candles.
She ate a swift meal of bread and cheese, and made coffee, before settling to sleep. For a few moments she wondered at her future here. Winter loomed, Christmas was on the horizon, maybe she could find a job of some sort to sustain her? Her musings didn’t last for long, she was so weary she was soon fast asleep.
CHAPTER TWO
B enjamin Ferguson left his horse in the barn and headed into the house. Tonight he would sleep here with his brothers, rather than at the sheriff’s office in town. He lived a transient sort of life between the two. Tomorrow he didn’t have to return to work until supper time, he would be there all night and half of the next day. When he had to work nights he often came back here to sleep during the day, he was grateful he still had a bed and some privacy to rest. He was never certain exactly when he would be working, and for how long, it all depended what Sheriff Hempson decided, day to day. As deputy sheriff, that was the way he lived.
The bunkhouse which he shared with four of his seven brothers was warm and comfortable, and he would get fed. Not that the fare at the small ranch was anything like as good as it had been when his mother was alive. For six years after the death of their mother, the brothers and Zac, their father, had been fed and looked after by their only sister Ruth. Meals then had been good, not quite to their mother’s standard, but Ruth was still young, and learning her craft. Then Ruth married and moved away, and the men were left doing the cooking and washing. The meals were basic, but edible.
A year ago Joshua, his twin brother, had married and brought home his beautiful wife, Maybelle. The anticipation had been high, a woman in charge of the kitchen once more. Sadly, although the washing and cleaning was now done, the improvements in their meals had been minimal, Maybelle might have been beautiful, and a woman who could work the cattle as well as a man, but she was no cook!
Still, food filled a belly, and when you were hungry, you ate.
He entered the house after washing in the bunk house, to find the rest of the family already seated around the table drinking coffee. Maybelle was stirring a pan on the stove, and there was a definite smell of something burning. Nothing changed!
He sat down with an inward sigh. If he was ever going to eat well again he would either have to spend every mealtime in the local diner, or find himself a wife. But how could a man find a wife when he had no home to offer her?
This ranch made the rest of his family a living, they all had a roof over their heads, but the only one with a place of their own was Ruth, and her home belonged to her husband.
Caleb, Ruth’s twin, had already left. He had moved along with Ruth, and now worked with his brother-in-law on their small farm. At least he had good food, and a bit of freedom.
That was part of the reason Ben had taken the post of Deputy Sheriff. He didn’t have some fanatical desire to uphold the law, although he did believe in right and wrong, but he did want to do something for himself. Here on the ranch his father still reigned supreme, and when he was gone, Abraham, the eldest at thirty-one, would inherit everything.
Ben did not begrudge him this, that was the way of things, but he did wonder why his other brothers still stuck around.
Only Adam seemed set to move on. Second eldest, at twenty-eight, Adam was sweet on a girl from the next small town. He’d not said much about it, but Ben was fairly certain they were planning a wedding for next summer.
He and his twin Joshua came next, at twenty-seven. Josh had found his lady love, the beautiful Maybelle. Ben had watched her from afar for years. She had arrived in the town, and at the school house, the year before he and Josh finished their school days. Ben had fallen in love, or so he thought, but it had never worked out for him. In the end Maybelle, that flirtatious beauty, had chosen Josh. She had married him when she turned eighteen, and moved here last year.
Then came David, at twenty-four. The no-longer-resident Ruth and Caleb, the other twins, were nearly twenty-two, and lastly came Joseph at nineteen.
The ranch had never needed to hire any hands because the Ferguson family had raised their own. The house had always been full to bursting, hence Father built the bunk house. Mealtimes, if he was here too, involved eight people around the table, despite the fact Ruth and Caleb, had already left.
He lived from day to day, working hard both in town and here on the ranch, but somewhere in the back of his mind the thought lurked that he should be doing more. He was living, but he wasn’t alive. He wanted more, he wanted something of his own. What he really wanted was what Joshua had found, a woman to love him. When he found her, he would get his own place, maybe small to start with, but he would work at it. He would build his own family, with a nice house, and wife and children.
Surely, somewhere was the woman for him? Maybelle had been a lovely dream, never to be his, but if a girl like her could accept his twin brother, surely he was handsome enough to find a girl?
Ben sat down at the table next to his father.
Zachary was perusing a long letter, which showed evidence of repeated readings and much folding; his brow was furrowed.
“Not bad news, Father?” Ben enquired quietly. His father often accused him of disinterest, so he would attempt to stay on the right side of him today.
“No, no.” Zac folded the letter and shoved it into his jacket pocket. “Just something I need to think on.”
; Maybelle plonked the stew onto the table, along with the biscuits, which showed signs of scorching on the top. Everyone started grabbing. Ben couldn’t help but remember how things had been when his mother was still alive. No-one would have dared grab food until after Father had said grace. Anyone who did would earn an angry glare from his mother, she was most insistent about grace, and no-one would want to displease her. These days no-one bothered at all, and Father just let it happen. As a family they were becoming uncouth and godless.
Ben murmured his own small, quiet thanks before helping himself to stew, and one biscuit. Hopefully beneath the burnt exterior it would be edible, at least he could soak it in the gravy.
The mealtime was noisy, as always. David in particular was loud. There were times when Ben disliked this brother. He was brash and mouthy, and he loved to criticize, Joe was his particular victim.
“How are things in town?” Adam asked; his voice was almost drowned out by David’s. He was, as usual, seated at Ben’s other side, since Josh had married he seemed to have taken the role of Ben’s closest confident.
“Pretty quiet, a few drunks, no-one new in town this week. Sheriff Hempson is spending a lot of time looking for these cattle thieves, but he’s found nothing.”
“Nice and quiet for you,” Adam comment. “I wonder… could you take a letter to town for me tomorrow?” He kept his voice low.
Ben answered in a similar tone. “I can.” He threw his brother a small smile. “I wish you would tell me what you are up to. I won’t tell the others, you can tell them when the time is right.”
Adam gave a small frown. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“It’s either a letter to Miss Betsy Callendar, which I will know when I see the address, or it’s something to do with finding somewhere to buy or even rent, away from here, isn’t it?”
Adam glared at him. “Shut it.” He glanced around the table.