Mary took it from her. “You heard your Ma. You’ve earned some time off your feet. If not for yourself, for that baby.”
Wyatt shuddered inside. The last thing Katherine would appreciate was her family coddling her. His strong, independent wife…made to sit back and watch others clean her kitchen. It couldn’t be easy.
He set a hand on hers and gave it a gentle squeeze.
She did not so much as peer in his direction. Was she angry with him? Hurt perhaps?
“So, Doc, I hear the train’s coming sooner than expected.” Tom took a swig of his drink.
“Most people are expecting it to arrive before spring.” David laid his forearms on the table where his plate had been.
“Won’t that be something,” Wyatt said without thinking much on it. His focus remained on Katie. Was she well? Or had she become overstressed?
“I think it’s about time this town made progress.” David eyed his father. Something seemed strained in their shared gaze. What was it?
Wyatt pulled his attention from Katie to the conversation.
“Young folks are always talking about ‘progress.’ But are you careful to count the costs?” Tom raised an eyebrow.
David eased back in his chair, crossing his arms. It became apparent they’d had this discussion before. Did David expect Wyatt to intervene? Take sides?
“Won’t the train bring supplies more quickly?” Katie inserted.
So she intended to speak on this subject? She typically steered clear of family disputes that didn’t involve her and Wyatt. The relationship between her father and brother could be…complicated.
“That’s what I’ve been saying to Pa.” David waved a hand in Tom’s direction. “We wait so long for things. Mr. Yerby has to order what he doesn’t have in stock. And then we wait. The train will not only get our orders to us quicker, it will reduce the price. Even I can count those costs.”
Tom furrowed his brows.
Wyatt’s stomach did a little flip. He had been so grateful to become a part of a close-knit family. And one that had less dysfunction than his—a drunken mess of a father who beat his mother and even Wyatt when he’d stepped in to defend her.
To see these two men argue was difficult, but Wyatt could manage it. For in this family, their love ran deep. Too deep for anyone to come to blows.
But David speaking to his father with a disrespectful tone strained Wyatt’s patience. Dare he put forth his opinion?
“Surely you see that’s not all there is to it.” Katie jerked her head to face her brother. “Just as the train brings large amounts of supplies, it will bring an increase of the town’s population.” Her words were curt.
David’s eyes widened a little and his brows raised. “What would be the problem with that? Unless you, like Pa, expect nothing but riffraff.”
Katie’s eyebrow quirked. “You must consider that with the good comes the…not so good.”
Was it Wyatt’s imagination or did she tremble? He intertwined their fingers.
At last, she looked at him. Her eyes welled with emotion, but the corners of her lips tipped upward.
They would be all right. He let out a breath.
“I won’t hear it.” David uncrossed his arms and placed his hands on the edge of the table. “I refuse to live with that kind of pessimistic outlook on mankind, on God’s plan. Make no mistake, the train is coming. And all we can do is try to make the best of it. I, for one, choose to trust that God will prosper us and our town.”
David’s words made sense. The time to decide if the railroad would come had passed. There was little sense in discussing views on that now. It was up to God and His plan as to the outcome.
Standing, David nodded. “If you’ll excuse me, I promised Jessie and Peter I’d make something with them tonight. Y’all do have the best blocks in Cripple Creek.”
That drew a smile out of Katie. A tired, hesitant smile. But what was she thinking? Was she thus resolved?
Lauren and Mary returned with cups of coffee in hand.
“What did y’all do to run David off?” Lauren took her seat beside Tom.
“Nothing I wouldn’t do again.” Tom winked at his wife.
Wyatt wrapped his hands around the steaming mug and brought it to his lips. He glanced toward the great room where David played with not only Jessie and Peter, but Jack and Susie, as well.
Was it better to be optimistic? Or cautiously expectant, prepared for any number of possibilities?
Or did it all just come down to trusting God?
* * *
Ma and Pa had long since left. And it became apparent that David needed to take his sleepy children home. Katherine walked them out to their cart.
David lifted his children one by one into the wagon and then assisted his wife’s climb onto the driver’s bench.
“Give me a minute,” he called up to Mary. “I want to speak to Katherine.”
Mary nodded, but her gaze was on the back of the wagon as Jessie and Peter settled in for the ride.
Stepping to Katherine, David set a hand on her back and steered her toward her own porch. He lowered his voice. “I’m sorry about that whole thing with Pa tonight.”
She nodded. “It’s all right. I don’t expect you two to agree on everything. Lord knows, that’s not going to happen.”
He grinned. “I suppose you’re right. We are quite different.”
They climbed the steps onto the porch.
“We can’t all be the same,” Katherine said. “Some of us would be unnecessary.”
As they reached the front door, David turned to face her. “Thanks.”
“For what?” Why would he thank her? She had sided with Pa more than him. In fact, it was he that pointed out her shortsightedness, same as Pa’s.
“You are always, I don’t know…a buffer…between me and Pa. More than you know. It gives me the courage to say things I can’t otherwise.”
She had no idea. He had never seemed tongue-tied. But was that because, as he claimed, she gave him such boldness?
Placing a hand on his upper arm, she said, “I can’t imagine that being so. But if it is, you’re welcome.”
He pulled her into an embrace. “You take care of yourself, you hear?”
She pulled back. “Of course I will.”
His features became set and his eyes serious. “Mary told me about the cart that almost ran you over.”
“Ah.” Katherine nodded. She’d have rather Mary not share so much with David. Nor would she have Mary keep things from her husband if she felt the need to tell him. “It doesn’t happen often.”
“Katie.” His lips fell as he glowered at her. “I mean it.”
She sighed. “I know you do. And I love you for it.”
He embraced her again and, when he released her, he held her hand for a moment longer. “Go tell Doc you mean to be more careful, too. I think he’s even more concerned than I am.”
Katherine nodded.
With that, David stepped off the porch, climbed into his family’s wagon, and pressed the horse to take them homeward.
And now, she was free to go to bed, but would she? Or were there still words to be had with Wyatt?
* * *
Susie fell asleep almost before Wyatt laid her down. Easier than most nights which took a mixture of story and songs to still her energetic body.
Now he took a turn with Jack.
Wyatt created the bedtime story of all stories—with cowboys, a miserly banker, and a thief. Still, Jack wanted for a mystery involving Sherlock Holmes. Wyatt did not think he was up to the task of weaving such a fine tale. Maybe one day.
Tonight, however, there was too much on his mind.
After the story ended, Wyatt rushed through prayers. It wasn’t something he liked doing, but his eagerness to get to Katie overcame his better desires.
He turned down Jack’s lantern and hobbled into the great room as the front door shut. Had she just returned after sending David and his family off? Why ha
d it taken so long?
“You all right?” That had to be the most ridiculous question he could have asked. Though she appeared well enough, he knew better.
She looked at him, eyes slightly widened. Was she surprised at his question? Maybe so. “I am. Perhaps a little tired.”
“I’m certain you are exhausted.” He moved toward her, his gimp leg slowing his progress.
Much to his chagrin, she closed the distance between them. Why could he not be the one in charge?
She put her hands on his arms. “We need to get you off that leg. You’ll wear yourself out.”
“I might say the same to you.” He kept his gaze soft, but the reality of his concern was certain to have shown through.
Nodding, she wrapped an arm around him from his good side. Then, moving forward, she assisted his short walk to their bedroom.
Soon enough, he sat on the edge of their bed. Relief rushed through him as he eased off his limbs, not feeling any more pain in his wounded leg.
“I need to douse the lights.” She turned and left the room before he could protest.
But what would he say? He doubted he would be able to force himself back onto his bum leg if he had to.
Moments later, she returned from the now-dark hallway. She moved through the room, turning down the covers and dimming their lantern. He unbuttoned his shirt.
“Here, let me help you into bed.” She extended her arms.
He let her assist him as he maneuvered to his side of their mattress.
Then she reached to help with the buttons.
Jerking away, he continued with them himself. “I’m not completely helpless,” he reminded her.
“Of course not.” She pulled back as if stung. “I only wanted to help.”
“I know.” He reached out for her, but she was too far away. Why did she do that to him? “I just…I need to do things for myself. Can you understand?”
She nodded.
“Come here.” He opened his arms.
Sliding across the mattress’s surface, she went into his embrace, laying into his chest.
He held her to himself, relishing the feel of her. “Tell you what…you help me. And I help you.”
She sat up and met his gaze. Then nodded. Fingers fell to his shirt’s front and worked the rest of the buttons.
Holding his arms out, he plunged his hands into her hair and relieved it of the pins that bound it. He stared into her eyes as the soft waves fell on his lower arms.
Tugging at her gently, he brought her to him for a kiss. They would make it through this strained period.
Because they loved each other.
Because they trusted each other.
And because God was with them.
But for now, he would enjoy his wife.
Chapter 4
The Christmas Spirit Went Somewhere
Katherine moved down the main stretch of town. Why was her Christmas spirit so dampened? She was the one who was supposed to bring Yuletide cheer to the whole town, wasn’t she? What would happen if she couldn’t? Would it be her fault? Would Christmas then be ruined?
And what of her own family? She’d been so busy with everything for the town, she had not taken the time to make their presents.
What would be a good gift for Susie? For Jack? For Wyatt?
Too much to think about.
Too many things. Too many important things.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Mary pressed a hand to Katherine’s arm.
“You don’t want to hear my thoughts.” Katherine shook her head before looking to her companion.
“I do,” Mary insisted.
“They just might scare you.”
Mary grimaced. “You know better than that.”
“We need to get back to this schedule anyway.” Katherine pointed to her task list. “Did you talk to the schoolteacher about the nativity? Did she agree to orchestrate that?”
Silence. Mary chewed on her lip.
“What?” Did everything have to be so exasperating?
“Miss Elston said she would select the parts, but she doesn’t want to direct them.” Mary cinched her features.
“Doesn’t want to direct them?” Katherine bit back.
Mary jerked away.
“Sorry.” Katherine pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’m not upset with you. Where, again, did they find this teacher?”
Mary shrugged. “I wasn’t on that board.”
Katherine forced a breath out through clenched teeth. “Neither was I.” But her son was there, even now, learning what he could from this woman. Who apparently couldn’t be bothered to direct children in a simple production.
There was no use getting upset or creating trouble over it. Katherine could do it just as well.
And probably do a better job.
That was vanity.
Sorry, Lord.
“You really shouldn’t let this upset you so.” Mary looped an arm through Katherine’s. “Remember, it will only make you tired. And think about what it will do to the baby.”
Katherine closed her eyes and took several long breaths. “What am I supposed to do when no one...no one in this town seems prepared to help? Everyone wants their own cherished thing to be in the festivities, but they hand it off to me to ensure it’s done.”
“Breathe. And remember…I’m here!” Mary beamed.
Katherine looked at her sister-in-law and laid a hand on her arm. “And I thank God for you. What would I do without you?”
Mary flushed.
“Speaking of…I need your opinion about something.” Katherine put on her best smile.
“What?” Mary seemed skeptical.
“I need some thoughts on presents.”
“Oh no…” Mary pulled away. “No, ma’am.”
“Please….” Katherine strode after Mary. She just had to help with this. If not, Christmas might be ruined!
* * *
Wyatt closed Susie’s bedroom door with care. He dare not wake the sleeping child. Not after all the effort he had put into getting her to dreamland. How did Katie manage to do that every day? It was such a chore! How much energy could a body so small contain?
A lot, apparently.
His appreciation for Katie’s patience had grown in the short time he had cared for Susie on his own.
And to think…Katherine prepared to add an infant to this mayhem in a few weeks. How?
Still, it was that very event—the birth of their child—which drew him, shuffling, out to the barn. Perhaps it wasn’t the most secretive place to hide Katie’s present, but it had been the best he could come up with. There wasn’t anywhere in the house she wouldn’t find it. And this far corner of the barn remained untouched most all the time.
The myriad of things piled there were the odds and ends left behind by the Womack family when they abandoned their homestead. And Wyatt couldn’t make himself get rid of them, so the darkened corner became a home for these things.
Shouldering his way farther back, he maneuvered through the discarded farm equipment and made his way to the treasured piece.
He lifted a cloth to reveal his handiwork. The smell of the carved wood filled his nostrils. The piece had yet to be stained or sealed. It remained in its raw form. But it had taken a fine shape. And he hoped Katie would think it as perfect for their child’s first bed as he.
Grabbing for a stool, he then sat next to the cradle. He reached forth and ran a hand over the side, relishing the feel of the wood’s smooth surface, sanded the last time he ventured back here.
He wished he had been the one to make the cradle all their children spent their first months in. But he didn’t begrudge it too much. The cradle brought in with Susie and Jack after their adoption had likely been built by their father or grandfather. That was fitting.
But he sensed that, while Katherine didn’t mind the idea of their child bedding down in that piece, she wanted something made for the child. Why she had not mentioned it, he didn’t know. Did she fe
ar he would think her petty? That he would find her selfish? Or haughty in some way?
He let his hand lay where their babe’s head would rest.
None of these fears were founded. He understood. And wanted the same thing.
One of his greatest fears had always been that he would become his father—hurting Katie or their children. But God had intervened and rescued him. He no longer feared such.
But he determined he would be the kind of father that made every effort, the father that took part in the lives of his children. And, for whatever reason, that meant he wanted his child to sleep in a bed made by his own hands.
Focusing back on the wood, he smiled. Yes, the cradle was ready for stain and seal. The final steps. And he had already selected the proper stain. In fact, hadn’t he put the can around here somewhere?
He turned this way and that. Could he see the can from his position? The stain had been purchased when he started the project…before his injury. Where would he have set it?
There.
The can sat farther away than he’d expected, between an old beaten-up plow and a half-rotted yolk.
He had hidden it well. Almost too well.
How would he reach it? He would have to hobble over there. But how could he reach into the tighter space with his crutch? Curse that thing! How much did he truly need it?
On his feet once more, he all but dragged his leg as he made his way to the can. His confidence grew with each movement forward. Perhaps the day he would manage without the crutch was soon forthcoming. Though, he did find himself leaning against the wall more than he’d like.
That was nothing to be concerned about. The important thing was that he made progress.
Now leaning over the can, he grabbed it up.
Yes, he could do this. He was as independent as ever. He didn’t need anyone’s help.
The increasing amount of pain in his leg as he made his way back to the stool, unsteady and awkward, told another story. Still, he would count this a victory.
Sitting once more, he put the can on his good leg.
And stared at the lid.
How would he get this open? He had not thought to grab a tool with which to pry it open.
Christmas In Cripple Creek (Hope In Cripple Creek Book 2) Page 4
