Rescuing Christmas Page 3

  Charles had saddled his mare earlier and she nickered softly as he approached to tighten the girth before mounting. Waves were exchanged and the party set out. The shortest route to the Cooper spread was directly across the Barnett farm. The Rogers land was on beyond that, but due to the curve of the creek was actually closer in a direct line. However, with the buggy, the road was a far smoother drive and only an extra mile or so. They soon arrived at their destination.

  CHAPTER SIX ― Visiting

  Melody Cooper was the first to spot the visitors and she called out in a high-pitched voice, “They’re here! They’re here!”

  Her sister Harmony had already left for school but Melody wouldn’t be joining her there until next year.

  Tall and stately, Dorothy Cooper came out on the porch, followed by her petite sister, now swollen with pregnancy. Despite her recent loss she glowed with her impending motherhood.

  “Stay on the porch, Melody. You know that mule likes to nip at young girls.”

  Shading her eyes she tried to identify the rider accompanying the buggy. Next to her, Mary cried out softly, “Charles!”

  Dorothy looked at her sister and then back at the man and gasped. “You’re right!”

  Tears filled her eyes as she was swept with a pang of loss, remembering her husband. Her Reggie should have been here, too. Hastily sweeping away the moisture, Dorothy fixed a smile onto her face and waved at the approaching trio.

  Soon everyone was exchanging greetings and embraces and the Sevenoaks sisters were welcoming Charles home. Melody hung back, grasping her mother’s skirt. Suddenly she piped up, “Are you my daddy?”

  All chatter ceased as Charles walked over to the little girl and crouched down to be at her eye level.

  “No, sweetheart, but I am your godfather. Your daddy was so proud of his beautiful little girl and I was so honored to be asked. He even named you after me.”

  “Your name is Melody, too?”

  The adults chucked.

  “Well do you know your whole name?”

  “Melody Charlene Cooper.”

  “Well my name is Charles, and Charlene is like Charles but for girls.”

  She considered this for a moment, then nodded and said, “Okay!” and then flung herself into his arms and hugged him tight.

  He staggered back from the force of her sudden movement, nearly falling over before he felt a hand on his back steadying him as he rocked backward.

  He looked up to see Mary smiling down at him, and felt his heart skip a beat, his shoulder tingling from where she touched him. Still holding Melody, he stood up, suddenly towering over Mary.

  “I swear you haven’t grown an inch since we were in school!”

  “Well you sure have,” she retorted, placing her hand on her belly, stroking the baby lightly where it was suddenly kicking, and trying to dissipate the odd sensation in her fingers.

  Giving Melody a kiss on the cheek, he set her down but kept a hand on her head, stroking her soft curls. She held firmly to his trousers, looking up adoringly.

  “Melody,” Dorothy called over to her daughter, “why don’t you get the doll your Uncle Robert gave you so you can show your Uncle Charles.”

  “All right, Mother! Don’t go away, Uncle Charles,” she admonished.

  The adults all laughed a bit awkwardly and Mary commented, “You know, you and Reggie always did look enough alike to be brothers. You could have sat for the picture in the parlor.”

  “Well, don’t forget our mothers were sisters and we were cousins. I guess your girls are my cousins, too.”

  “You don’t mind if they continue to call you Uncle, do you? That’s how the Kenner boys refer to you and the girls know of you that way, too.”

  Charles smiled down at Dorothy, although she nearly came up to his nose.

  “How is it again that you’re an Amazon and you sister is a Fairy?”

  Dorothy slapped him lightly on the arm. “Didn’t you know we had different mothers? When my mother died birthing me, father fostered me with a wet nurse until I was weaned. Then he met and married Mary’s mother, who reared me as her own.

  “She was the only mother I ever knew and it wasn’t until I was getting married that she told me otherwise. She thought I should know so I wouldn’t expect my children to have her stature or coloring. I always thought I just took after my father!”

  “No, I never did know that! Youngsters don’t gossip about the same things as adults, and I guess by the time I was old enough to pay attention, your story wasn’t current any longer.”

  Suzanne nodded her head, looking at the two sisters. “I never knew that, either! And we’ve been friends our whole lives!”

  “Here she is, Unca Charlie!” piped up Melody, thrusting a beautifully dressed rag doll up at him.

  “My goodness, she looks just like you! She even has your eyes and hair! What do you call her?”

  “Sarabeth.”

  Charles paled.

  “Yes, after Reggie’s horse. She heard the name from his letters. I read them aloud to the girls so they can know their father. Although,” there was a twinkle in Dorothy’s sad smile, “some of the letters I’ve set aside as a bit too . . . personal.”

  “And I haven’t even offered my condolences in person, yet, to either of you ladies.”

  “Well, we have been rather distracted.” Dorothy nodded down, smiling at her daughter. “Why don’t you offer Sarabeth some tea at your table?” She nodded her head down the porch to where a child-sized table and chairs held place of honor.

  “All right, Mother!”

  While Dorothy was getting her daughter settled, Charles turned to Mary. “I hadn’t even known you were married, but I know how much Robert adored you from the time he first laid eyes on you at school. I am so very sorry for your tragic loss!”

  Her eyes filled with tears but she returned Charles’ gaze. “He was a wonderful man and loving husband; I’ve been unbelievably lucky to have had him in my life and can only think God had a special need for him to have called him away so suddenly. But I thank you for your kind words. They mean a lot to me.”

  “And to me,” Dorothy said, walking back toward them. “Without your letter I am not sure how I would have coped, but your words gave me courage to continue.”

  “Your letters home meant a lot to a great many people, Charles,” Suzanne added.

  Charles cringed a bit, knowing how often he’d put off writing to folks, afraid to commit to paper how truly awful things could get. He’d tried to focus on the beauty of the places he was passing through—at least before shelling started—when he wrote home, such as Gettysburg’s rolling hills, grand old Seminary and majestic churches, and the fine homes built around the square. Marching on roads used by George Washington and hearing the cheers of patriots as they went through towns.

  He remembered how proud he and his companions had been when they’d posed for photographs in their new uniforms, how they were sure all the womenfolk would be impressed by how handsome they looked. And he remembered how shabby they had been at the end, dusty, torn clothing, crumpled caps, broken shoes. Not that he and the other officers hadn’t tried to keep their men’s spirits up, trying to darn and mend the fabrics worn through by crawling on elbows and knees . . .

  Shuddering slightly, Charles endeavored to put such thoughts behind him, hoping the ladies hadn’t noticed his mental wandering.

  Placing her hand gently on his sleeve, Suzanne murmured, “We lost you there for a moment, Charles, but I’m glad you are back with us.”

  Charles lowered his eyes, trying hide the pain within, then forced a smile which gradually became genuine as he looked around at his childhood playmates.

  “I cannot tell you how wonderfully happy I am to be here with you all.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN ― Making Plans?

  Ma had pretty much remained silent, but now she reached into the buggy and brought forth the basket they’d brought with them and handed it to Dorothy.

  “As yo
u can see, quite a bit has changed since we made plans to visit last Sunday. You know we were going to talk about how you young ladies thought it would be best to manage your affairs now that you’d had a bit of a chance to adjust. But I think Charles’ return to us may change the complexion of things just a bit.”

  “Oh, my!” Dorothy reached for the basket with one hand and wrapped her other arm around Ma. “Ms Emilene, we’ve all been acting like hoydens in the play yard at school, standing around in the cold as if it were the finest spring day. Please, won’t you all come in?”

  Ushering Ma through the door, she called over her shoulder, “You come inside to play now, Melody.”

  Grasping Sarabeth by one arm, Melody trotted over to Charles and held out her arms for him to carry her. He laughingly complied as the party trooped indoors to the kitchen, where the table had been set beautifully with a carefully ironed gingham cloth and a dried arrangement as a centerpiece. Dorothy quickly added a chair and setting for Charles, their unexpected but most welcome guest, and moved the kettle over the flame to bring water to a boil for their tea.

  “Which one is your chair?” Charles asked Melody. She pointed and he plopped her into it, sneaking in a quick tickle and then putting on an innocent face, acting as if teasing her were the farthest thing from his mind.

  Removing the cloth covering them, Mary started passing around cookies she’d baked that morning while Dorothy offered tea, and for now conversation centered around light gossip about folks Charles hadn’t seen in years.

  “. . . and then Chloe tripped over Joe’s big clodhopper boots sticking out into the aisle and ended up on his lap!” hooted Suzanne, wiping at tears of laughter.

  “She’s expecting their second child this spring,” commented Ma, drily.

  “Because of Mr. Joe’s boots?” piped up Melody.

  The group around the table erupted in laughter and Dorothy stood up, shaking her head. “I think this is where we remember that little pitchers have big ears and should be playing in the next room! Melody, why don’t you take Sarabeth for her tea?”

  Opening her mouth to protest, she caught her mother’s eye and changed her response to “Yes, Mother!” and quickly skipped out of the room.

  “I hope I can learn that Look!’ quipped Mary, patting herself, then swiftly clasping her hands and blushing as she saw Charles watching her. She’d forgotten she wasn’t alone with just the ladies! He just twisted the side of his mouth upward in a half-grin as he gave her a wink.

  Ma took center stage again as Dorothy started reaching for her cup to offer more tea.

  “I think we know each other well enough to help ourselves at this point, Dorothy. Let’s talk about how you ladies plan to manage these two places on your own.”

  The Sevenoaks sisters looked at each other and came to a silent agreement. Mary became the spokesperson.

  “Dorothy and I have hardly talked of anything else, lately. Everything was all planned out, but Robert had barely begun consolidating the operations. Although both spreads have been short of able hands, he was confident that the combined outfit would not really require as many riders as each did separately. He put Jim Jackson in charge of overseeing the cattle and Henry Stockwell was to handle the horses. I’ve always ridden out and helped as an overseer along with Robert. It stretched our manpower and gave us more flexibility.”

  Charles sat back, looking at Mary, bemused. She’d always been smart as a whip and, although his own mother had focused on hearth and home, Ma was always vocal in her opinions of how things should be run, and pitched in wherever needed, be it kitchen or barn, so he was used to the idea that women had brains and were fully capable. In fact, during the 1861 state legislative sessions, he and he father had followed closely the activities of a Mrs. Nichols, who was lobbying for women’s suffrage--which resulted in two laws being passed to provide relief and protection for widows.

  But his little hoyden Mary, the tomboy, looking like as fine and lovely a lady as any he’d seen back east (despite the undeniable shape of incipient motherhood pushing out her shawl, he chuckled to himself—why did women treat being enceinte as an illness about which one didn’t talk? Her pregnancy only made her more beautiful, glowing with new life.). His Mary was a wonder!

  “Henry and his wife have a cabin behind the trees over by the stable,” Mary continued. “I guess the secluded location saved them when the raiders attacked. He takes care of Old Dusty and Sasha, who is expected to drop before the New Year. Robert had such high hopes for this foal!” She sighed softly. “He carefully selected the stallion with whom he allowed Sasha to breed, but the papers with the lineages were lost to the fire. Still, we are hoping for a fine horse.

  “Meanwhile, with the loss of the rest of our horses we are short of mounts, even with Circle S stock. Of course,” here her voice wavered, “the real loss is Robert.”

  There was a pause as everyone shifted slightly, heads bowing in quick prayer.

  Regaining control, Mary continued. “While Dorothy and I both want to continue what Robert began, combining our Rocking R with the Circle S, we are starting to run into some resistance from the men, especially as I am unable to ride and actively manage right now.” She had been talking generally, to everyone, shifting her eye contact as she spoke, but now focused on Charles.

  “Until fairly recently, I continued to ride out, as I rode with Robert, and help manage the day-to-day operations. You may remember that our father took over at Circle S when Reg left with you, but he died this spring, and that’s when Robert and I started talking about the possibility of combining our lands with Dorothy’s.”

  Mary turned her head and smiled warmly at her sister. “The funny thing is, the first time we got together after Pa’s funeral, Dorothy brought up the idea herself. Paperwork was filed a week before the attack, but the consolidation has come to a standstill. We still want this to work out.”

  “Who’s taking care of the remaining stock right now?” Charles asked softly.

  “Fortunately, most of our hands have remained loyal to the brand, although that may be due more to it being winter and no one else hiring,” replied Dorothy wryly. “For now we are holding on.”

  “Would you ladies like a third partner?”

  Hope blazed in both pairs of eyes as Dorothy and Mary looked closely at Charles to try to gauge his seriousness.

  Suzanne spoke up. “We all know Charles is a fantastic ranch hand—he learned along with Tom from my father-in-law, Old Nick—and furthermore we all know he’s been wanting to get away from farming. Although you’ll probably still want to grow some of your own crops—your patch has some mighty nice farmland!” she added with a demure smile and side glance to Charles.

  She continued, “Tom and I have been concerned about you—well the whole community has! But when Charles got home and started talking about leaving so he could ranch . . .”

  Charles shook his head, then shook it harder. He’d only been back home a few days. If he thought the war had changed his life, today’s talks had really turned it upside down. Especially seeing Mary again. But he felt a peace inside himself that hadn’t been there in far too long. Glancing up he saw not the rafters, but the light of God shining down upon him, and he offered a silent prayer of thanks.

  The ensuing discussion became a free-for-all of suggestions, ideas, half-spoken thoughts and partial sentences like “What if we…?” or “Maybe we could…” as voices tumbled over and under each other. They would likely have continued for hours had Melody not come into the room hands on hips, demanding some “vittles” for Sarabeth.

  “The word is ‘victuals,’ as you well know,” gently corrected Dorothy.

  Laughter, hugs, and quick good-byes ensued and the guests set back off for the Bar K after they’d all agreed to dinner there tomorrow, after church, to continue the discussion with Tom’s input, too.

  ~~~

  “Well that certainly changes things a bit,” Dorothy exclaimed as they waved their guests off. “I see yo
u still have that soft spot for Charles.”

  “As do you, sister dearest!”

  “Pshaw! Although I did admire those muscles when we spied the boys in the water that time, you know I only ever had eyes for Reg.”

  “That one time? Dorothy Marie Sevenoaks, you snuck down to the water to spy on those boys every time you though you could get away with it!”

  “Oh, and you weren’t right there with me Miss Mary Quite Contrary?”

  A shocked gasp interrupted their laughter. Glancing down at her daughter, Dorothy laughed even harder.

  “Yes, moppet, your mother was once a little girl, too, and felt the back of a hairbrush more than once for misbehaving!”

  “Oh, mother! But I am going to marry Unca Charles!”

  CHAPTER EIGHT ― Community

  The church sat atop a small rise, just out of town. It had the austere grace of those in New England, with a spire that housed a bell whose purchase had been a proud moment for the congregation a few generations back. A neat cemetery claimed the far side, overlooking farms and ranches but sheltered by trees, and there was space for buggies and horses along the road.

  The bell was clanging as the Bar K buggy pulled up, accompanied by a number of men on horseback. Although one or two always stayed behind to keep an eye on things, most of the hands joined the family at Sunday worship, if not for the sermon and renewal, then at least for the fellowship and a chance to catch up with friends and gossip.

  Miles, one of the ranch hands, had been the recipient of some good-natured ribbing, as he was courting the haberdasher’s daughter Millie. But he’d just grinned, saying they were just jealous he’d found someone so pretty and sweet. Her parents never missed services and he’d made a point of regular attendance once he realized he’d be able to see her there.

  Most folks were inside as it was cold and raw with a biting wind. The sky was heavily overcast but the snows hadn’t really started yet—just a flurry here and there. Christmas was coming in just three more weeks and the preacher’s words of late had been focusing on the coming birth of the Christ child.