Treasured Christmas Brides

by Cabot, Amanda; Germany, Rebecca; Hake, Cathy Marie

  Angel sat on her cot and stared at her mother in surprise.

  “I heard Ben shouting. I made a terrible mistake marrying him, Angel. I was so lonely, and he was the first man who paid me any attention after years of widowhood. I knew he wasn’t a believer, but I ignored God’s Word and married him anyway. Foolishly I was sure I could change him. All it did was cause you and me both misery. I won’t have him ruin your life anymore. Go. Go to church. I’ll tell Ben I’m letting you.”

  Ben’s dark mood couldn’t ruin Angel’s excitement. The beaming smile on Jarrod’s face when she gave him the news warmed her every bit as much as the cloak. Harv volunteered to come over to feed Mama stew for lunch, and for the next three days, Angel thought of almost nothing other than the fact that Jarrod would be taking her to church.

  Saturday night, she boiled water, bathed, and washed her hair. After it dried, she sat on the floor, and Mama helped her roll the back of it in rags so she could arrange her hair in a suitable style for Sunday. When they were done, Angel went to the shelf to get Mama’s medicine.

  It was gone.

  Chapter 11

  Jarrod heard Mrs. Frisk’s cough as he walked to the cabin. Angel opened the door, but she wasn’t ready for church. Pale faced and red eyed, she stepped outside and shut the door. “I can’t go.”

  “Not with your mother sounding like that,” he agreed. “What happened? She was stable.”

  Tears spilled down Angel’s cheeks. “Her elixir is gone—there was still almost a full bottle yesterday afternoon. I know it’s Sunday, but when you’re in town, could you see if the storekeeper would open just long enough for you to buy some?”

  Jarrod wrapped his arms around her. “No need to weep, lass.”

  His jacket muffled her whisper. “Use the money you’re keeping for me.”

  He dipped his head and brushed a kiss on her temple. The dear woman in his arms was willing to sacrifice her own escape for her mother’s sake. “There’s no need. I’ve two bottles of Dr. Jayne’s at my cabin.”

  “I still want you to go to church without me.”

  He cradled her face and said in a soft growl, “We’ll be havin’ our verra own church right here.”

  “Oh, I’d like that. Mama would too.”

  “Go on inside and keep warm. I’ll be back in a trice.”

  Jarrod went to his own cabin and quickly collected several things in a gunnysack. Just as Angel opened the door for him, they heard a loud roar and looked just in time to see Ben fly through the air and splash into the nearly iced-over creek.

  Harv stood at the bank where Ben had been. He wore a thunderous scowl as he stared at the hole in the ice a good four feet away and waited until Ben surfaced. “Served you right,” Harv bellowed as Ben started to climb out of the frigid water. “I shoulda done that months ago.” He stomped up to the cabin and demanded, “How’s Mrs. Frisk?”

  “Jarrod brought her some elixir.” Angel pulled them both inside and latched the door. “There’s not much space. Please take a seat on the other cot.”

  Harv ignored her. He stood over Mrs. Frisk and nervously rubbed his knuckles. “Don’t like how you’re a-coughin’. I aim to lift you a tad higher so’s to ease your breathing. Angel, stick something ‘hind her shoulders. That ought to help a mite.”

  It took but a few moments to situate and medicate Angel’s mother. By then, the poor woman was exhausted. Harv waited to be sure she’d fallen asleep, then growled to Jarrod, “That no good varmint met me at the bridge. Said I didn’t need to come check on her. Bragged he’d made sure Angel wouldn’t be going no place. Know what he did then? Poured out Mrs. Frisk’s medicine.”

  Angel went white and turned away. Jarrod longed to speak with her privately, but he didn’t want to leave her mother alone, and Harv needed to be calmed down. Then again, Jarrod wasn’t sure he was the man to pacify anyone at the moment.

  “I shouldn’t have planted him a facer; I shoulda filled his hide with buckshot.” Harv rocked back and forth in agitation.

  “The Bible says to do good to them who hurt you.” Jarrod shook his head. “Right about now, that’s about the furthest thing from my mind.”

  Harv snorted. “Yeah, well, I was thinking of another verse. Told me just where to aim my buckshot: Turn the other—”

  “Enough!” Jarrod silenced him.

  “Sorry, Angel,” Harv said. “I have a bad habit of letting my temper get ahead of my sense.”

  Angel reached up, but from his vantage point, Jarrod couldn’t tell whether she was rubbing weary eyes or wiping away tears. He softly said, “We’re not going into town, but that doesn’t mean we can’t have our own Christmas service right here. Why don’t you nap a bit, Angel? Harv and I’ll go fix a nice meal. When you and your mama wake up, we’ll all break bread and worship.”

  “Could we?” She turned around, and a tiny bit of hope glimmered in her sad eyes.

  “Absolutely.”

  Harv cleared his throat. “I’m not ‘zactly a Sunday-go-to-meetin’ kinda fella, but I’d be proud to join you.”

  “There you have it then. We’ll be back after awhile.” Jarrod gently turned Angel to the side and smiled at her baffled look. He reached up and teased free the knot holding a length of rag. A satiny soft ringlet unwound and curled about his fingers.

  “Oh!” Embarrassment colored that small sound.

  “A woman’s hair is her crowning glory, and I’m thinking you’re quite a princess.” He lifted her off her feet, laid her on the cot, and as Harv luffed a blanket over her, Jarrod brushed her curls on the pillow. “Rest, lassie-mine.”

  “Make up your mind,” Harv teased. “Is she a princess or is she a mere lass?”

  Jarrod walked past him and waited until the second he was shutting the cabin door to say, “My lass is a princess.”

  “Do good to them who revile you for My name’s sake.” The instruction played through Jarrod’s mind. He didn’t have a right to welcome Ben into the women’s cabin. Yes, Angel’s mother was Ben’s wife, but his neglect and outright abuse gave ample cause for the women to be insulated from him. Even so, Jarrod tried to do the right thing. He dished up a portion of the meal and took it to Ben’s tent.

  “Ben?” The tent flap was loosely tied back, so Jarrod stepped inside.

  “Get out!” Ben wheeled around and roared.

  Jarrod stood rooted to the ground. The dirt bore an arc-shaped scrape from a small chest having been pushed aside. In the earth beneath where the chest had stood was a hole—and in it were stacked several of the small leather pouches placers used to hold their flakes.

  “You’ve starved your kin and wanted to pawn off a family treasure, yet you have more than sufficient to provide for them?”

  “Ain’t none of your business.” Ben shoved the chest back over his stash.

  “I’m making it my business.”

  “Not a week after I married what was s’posed to be a rich widow-woman, I found out the house she was a-livin’ in belonged to her uncle and she only had fifty stinkin’ dollars to her name. I figgered to leave her a-hind with the excuse that I was going pros-pectin’, but she took a mind to tag along. Said a woman belonged with her man. You got no call to be judgin’ me. She made her bed, and she’s lyin’ in it.”

  With painstaking care, Jarrod set down the plate. “Esau sold his birthright for a meal. I’m thinking you sold your soul for gold.”

  Ben rose and stood toe-to-toe with him. “Then I’ll sell my family too. You keep yer mouth shut about my stash; I’ll leave them alone and let you come on my claim to provide for them.”

  Angel smoothed the russet shirt, took a deep breath, and reached for the door. She’d slept hard; so instead of forming orderly ringlets she could style, her hair spiraled in an impossible commotion she’d tried to contain in a ribbon at her crown. Mama’s in her nightdress, I’m a mess, and we’re entertaining for Christmas. I didn’t even cook or—

  “Let them in, dear,” Mama whispered. “It’s cold out
side.”

  “Happy Christmas.” Jarrod smiled at her with enough warmth to melt every snowdrift in Colorado.

  “Yeah, Merry Christmas. Now git inside afore I drop something.” Harv nudged Jarrod inside.

  In a matter of minutes, the men dragged in a small bench, tossed a towel over it as a tablecloth, and set several dishes on it. Harv sidled between the “table” and Mama’s cot, scooped her up, and sat down with her on his lap. “Beggin’ your pardon, Mrs. Frisk, but I want you to have a good meal; and you’ll waste all of your strength trying to sit up on your own. I mean no disrespect.”

  Jarrod sat next to Angel. “I’d like to say grace.” He said a simple, heartfelt prayer, then lifted the Dutch oven’s lid with a flourish. “M’ladies, Christmas dinner is served.”

  Angel smiled at Jarrod. “Roast duck and baked apples—you and Harv put together a wondrous feast.”

  Awhile later, Mama said, “I can’t eat another bite.”

  Jarrod wiped his hands and reached into a bag. He pulled out his Bible. “I thought to read the nativity from Saint Luke. ‘Tisn’t just a fairy tale or a birthday story. The King of creation sacrificed His Son to ransom us—each one of us—back into His family. Divine love paid the price.”

  Grandpa used to read this passage, then Uncle Blackie did. Angel hadn’t heard it for years. She closed her eyes and listened to Jarrod’s rich, deep voice as the words of Christ’s birth filled her tiny cabin.

  “We oughtta sing a carol or two,” Harv decided aloud when Jarrod shut the Bible. They sang “Hark! The Herald Angels Sing,” then managed to mix up all of the gifts in the “Twelve Days of Christmas,” and ended with “Silent Night.”

  Mama glowed with joy, but her weariness was unmistakable. They tucked her in, then cleaned up the supper mess. Angel insisted, “I’m doing the dishes.”

  Harv chortled. “Won’t hear me complain. I hate that chore.”

  As they worked together, Angel quietly confessed to Jarrod, “Hearing the Bible does something deep inside of me. Until you came, Mama and I had gone years without the Word or church at all. I’d nearly lost faith, thinking God forgot us.”

  “God never forgets His children.”

  “I suppose not, but this child sure lost sight of Him. You tell me I’m a princess, but—”

  “No buts. You’re the daughter of the King of kings. Might be that your faith got weak, but that happens when you don’t have the Bible or any Christian fellowship. God’s here with you, and His arms are open wide. He’s glad to have you run to Him.”

  “When you were reading the Christmas story, I was thinking about what you said. Divine love—God ransomed me back with His sacrifice of love.”

  “That He did. I’m leaving my Bible in your cabin so you can read from it for yourself each day.”

  “Jarrod! You can’t do that. You treasure your Bible.”

  They’d finished the dishes. Jarrod cleared his throat and folded her chapped hands in his. “We need to have a talk, lass. Things are changing.”

  She dipped her head. He’s leaving. I should have known.

  “I told you from the start that I didn’t plan to stay here for long.”

  Lord, I’ve started to lean on Thee again, and with Jarrod leaving, Thou art the only way Mama and I will make it.

  “But your mama’s doing poorly.”

  Give me strength, God. I’m not just losing my mama. I’m about to lose the man I’ve come to love.

  Jarrod watched the color drain from Angel’s face and slid his arm around her waist. He drew her into the shelter of his arms. “I know losing her will grieve you. I’ll miss her too. She’s a dear woman.”

  Angel remained silent. She nodded, and tears slipped down her cheeks.

  Jarrod tenderly brushed them away. “I’ll be staying ‘til she goes home to be with the Lord.” His heart wrenched when Angel let out a small sob. He cradled her head to his chest but used his thumb to tilt her jaw up so she’d still face him.

  Somewhere in the span of months he’d been here, the time that he was ministering to her in God’s name had also become a courtship. At first, he’d been wary of that fact because he didn’t want Angel to think he’d used God as a tool to work his way into her heart. She’d needed spiritual restoration, and he didn’t have a doubt in his mind about the strength of her faith. Love had blossomed alongside faith—and that boded well for marriage. He looked at her and knew the time had come to speak from his heart.

  “I’m wanting you for my wife, Angel. Will you come away with me on that day? We’ve a future waiting for us together. I’ve fallen in love with you, lass. I’ll cherish you as the Bible tells me to.”

  “You love me?”

  He chuckled softly. The dazed look in her eyes might have hurt him, but the wonder in her voice and the hope in her smile charmed him. “Heart and soul. Will you be my wife?”

  She clutched his jacket with both hands and burrowed close. “I kept telling myself not to fall in love with you because you’d leave. I couldn’t help it, though. I prayed God would send someone to help, but I never thought He’d really hear me. You’re the answer—not just to my dreams, but to my prayers too.”

  Jarrod finally allowed himself the kiss he’d waited and longed for. He sealed their engagement with a kiss that held the promise of a bright future.

  When they parted, Angel took a few moments to catch her breath and gather her wits. “But Jarrod, you were going to stay until you’d have enough gold for a ranch.”

  “Lass, I’ve had enough gold for a ranch now for a whole season. God blessed us with a sweet little pocket here on my claim. We’ve gracious plenty to meet our needs.”

  “Then why did you stay?”

  “Because the gold in your eyes was more precious to me than anything else. The real treasure wasn’t what the current of the river swept my way. It’s what the path of God brought.”

  “You sacrificed your dreams to stay with me?”

  “No, dearling. I realized my heart’s desire when God set me down here next to you. ‘Twas no sacrifice—’twas a joy.” He pulled her ring from his shirt pocket. It sparkled in the weak winter sun. “This band was a token that God used to bring us together. It even had my initials inscribed inside—see here? JM. I want you to wear it now as a symbol of our engagement. Your grandpa made this band for your grandma from gold he found, and I thought it was a fitting tradition. I’ve had gold from my claim made into a band of your verra own. ‘Twill fit alongside this the day we take our vows.”

  “Ben will take it from me.”

  “Nae, lass. Ben willna ever bother you again. You and your treasure are safe at last.”

  Epilogue

  Christmas morning brought no more than a light dusting of snow. Jarrod stopped by the root cellar that he’d emptied. Once it held God’s gift of gold for him to ransom Angel from this place. Now a cross stood over it. Angel’s mother had been delighted with the news of their engagement. She’d given her blessing and said a sweet prayer for them. The very next day, she’d simply failed to awaken from her midmorning nap. Jarrod rested his hand on the cross and promised softly, “I’ll be takin’ your daughter to a nice little place, and she’ll be cherished. God keep you until we meet again at His banqueting table.”

  He nodded at Pete and Harv. They stood off to the side. Jarrod’s things took most of the space on Otto and Beulah, but one gunnysack held Angel’s things. Ben had blustered last night about Angel trying to steal his supplies, but she’d packed nothing but her clothes and the little wooden rose her mother passed down to her. All of Harv’s possessions formed a haphazard lump on the back of a placid-looking mule. He’d been happy as could be when Jarrod and Angel asked him to join them on the ranch Jarrod bought.

  The men each held the halters of a trio of horses. Pete and Jarrod had gone into town yesterday so Jarrod could quit claim his place over to Pete. Jarrod then bought the horses so they could travel on to the ranch he bought.

  The day he’d heard of t
he Christmas service, he’d been sent a telegram from a widow whose ranch he’d admired. They’d kept in contact, and with the silver panic and the devaluation of land, she’d decided to sell. Now, that spread would belong to him and Angel. He didn’t want his wife having to walk out of here—he wanted her to ride like a queen.

  Jarrod crossed Ben’s claim one last time. The hour had come for him to collect his bride. He patted his pocket. Angel’s band nestled there. Soon it would glitter on her hand, always to remind her she was his true treasure. He knocked on the cabin door and called out from the second chapter of Song of Solomon, “‘Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away.’”

  Cathy Marie Hake is a southern California native who loves her work as a nurse and Lamaze teacher. She and her husband have a daughter, a son, and two dogs, so life is never dull or quiet. Cathy Marie considers herself a sentimental pack rat, collecting antiques and Hummel figurines. She otherwise keeps busy with reading, writing, and bargain hunting. Cathy Marie’s first book was published by Heartsong Presents in 2000 and earned her a spot as one of the readers’ favorite new authors. Since then, she’s written several other novels, novellas, and gift books. You can visit her online at www.CathyMarieHake.com.

  Winterlude

  by Colleen L. Reece

  Chapter 1

  Early November, mid-1930s

  Ariel Dixon gazed into the shadowy image reflected in the mirror on her bedroom wall. Dread of the coming interview with her aunt showed in the sea-green eyes. An inner voice taunted, You have to tell her.

  Ariel turned from the mirror, but the accusing voice went on. Where is your Dixon courage? You’ve faced raging seas, been chased by wild animals. How hard can confessing to Aunt Rebekah be? You don’t want her to hear what you’ve done from someone else, do you?

  “No! Please, God, give me strength,” Ariel prayed. She sat down on the fluffy green bedspread that matched the brocaded draperies at her window. Peace gradually crept into her troubled heart. God would not desert her. She took her well-used Bible from the bedside stand. A tiny envelope rested inside the front cover. Ariel’s fingers trembled when she opened it. Even after twelve long years the dusty remains of a single forget-me-not brought pain. Why had her girlhood companion vanished without a trace? Why did Jean Thoreau’s memory still have the power to stir her?