A Keeper For Christmas (Spinster Mail-Order Brides Book 12)

by Marisa Masterson

  Smiling broadly, the girl nodded. “Berta and I do most of the dishes so we can teach you all the tricks to getting the nasty pots clean.”

  A loud groan from above created a dark cloud around the table. Merrilee sighed and struggled to reassure the children. “Remember, your mama is working hard. That doesn’t mean anything bad will happen.”

  A knock at the back door brought Fred out of his chair. He opened it and a small, older man entered. Clapping a hand to the man’s shoulder, Fred beamed. “Glad you’re here, doc. She’s lost her water and is in bed.”

  Soon after the doctor went upstairs, Holder came down. With a grumble, he growled, “Both of them told me to get out. Said only Merrilee was welcomed in the room since she was a woman.” He shook his head and his brow wrinkled.

  “Unless they call for me, I’ll stay out of the way. Johanna and Berta are going to show me how to do dishes. Then we’re going to have a Christmas Eve celebration in your parlor.” The twins clapped their pudgy hands at the mention of a celebration and Berta smiled.

  Merrilee enjoyed a feeling of being needed and helpful. Yes, this family was just what she needed to get past the loss of her mother.

  Smiling to herself, she reached for a cookie. It looked like a chocolate cake cookie. When cook made those in Charleston, she frosted them. This cookie had raspberry jam baked in its middle.

  Johanna also took one. “These are my favorite.” The girl bit into her cookie with a look of joy in her blue eyes.

  Encouraged, Merrilee took a bite. And almost spit it out! “This isn’t chocolate!”

  Her disgust brought laughter from everyone at the table, even the twins. Those giggling toddlers looked at the adults, trying to understand why they were laughing.

  Fred spoke first, a chuckle still in his voice. “That’s a molasses cookie. A Christmas tradition here.”

  Now that she didn’t expect to taste chocolate, the embarrassed bride tried the treat again. Ginger and the dark, sweet taste of the molasses burst on her tongue.

  “I quite like it. The taste was just a surprise.” After taking another bite, she smiled at her niece. “I can see why this is your favorite cookie.”

  An hour later, the kitchen was clean so the family gathered around Holder. He sat on the blue sofa with Johanna and Berta on each side of him. Fred held one twin and Carl held the other.

  Opening the bible in his lap, Holder read from the second chapter of Luke. Merrilee recognized the passage since her mother read it to her each Christmas.

  “In those days, Caesar August issued a decree…” He read about the journey to Bethlehem and the birth of baby Jesus in a stable since there was no room in the crowded inn.

  When he finished, Berta’s face twisted into a thoughtful look. “It’s good that our baby won’t sleep in the barn.”

  He hugged his daughter, bringing a smile to each adult’s face. “Yes, sweetheart. Our baby has a nice cradle and warm blankets waiting for her.”

  Fred shook his head. “Nope. This one’s a boy. I’m sure of it.”

  Holder’s face blanched. “Not sure I can be a good father to a boy. Hope it’s another girl.”

  Merrilee turned to Carl when he spoke up. He scowled. “You aren’t our father. He was twisted and bad. That isn’t you.”

  Uncomfortable with the conversation, Holder rose and stood by the organ. “Merrilee, I don’t suppose you play?”

  Happy to help ease the tension in the room, she jumped up and moved to the pump organ. It had a top added to it with shelves that held bric a brac. Pine boughs decorated each shelf along with red bows.

  “I love to play. Someone name a song for me.”

  Berta shouted, “Away in the Manger.” The twins echoed her words.

  It took Merrilee a minute or two to become used to the foot pedals. She also needed to experiment with the stops before she found the sound that worked best with the carol. Once that was done, she lost herself in the music coming from the reedy instrument.

  The girls named several more songs before their father stopped them. “Time to light the candles.”

  He leaned into the short Christmas tree and touched a candle to those decorating the branches. Soon the tree glowed. The light bounced off the red and gold glass balls. Merrilee stood by the tree and allowed the joy of the holiday to warm the empty places in her heart. At a touch on her leg, she looked down into Berta’s face.

  The girl hugged Merrilee’s legs. “I’m glad you’re here, Auntie Merry.” She didn’t bother to correct the girl. New home, new name. She liked the idea.

  A long and loud cry rang through the house. Holder raced for the stairs. Not long after, the guttural cry of an infant brought smiles to everyone in the parlor. Fred slapped Carl on the back. “Congratulations! You’re an uncle again.”

  Carl ducked his head, but not before Merrilee caught the gleam of tears. A sense of humor and a tender heart. He might turn out to be a good husband. If he ever gave up on acting the idiot.

  From the top of the stairs, Doc Weber’s voice called out, “Mrs. Sittig, I need your help.”

  All eyes in the parlor turned to her. Still, it took Fred to remind her. “That’s you he’s calling for, Mrs. Sittig.”

  -:¦:--:¦:--:¦:--:¦:--:¦:--:¦:-

  He had a wife! Whose idea was it to marry Carl Sittig to the woman?

  During the ceremony, she’d fixed her mouth grimly and watched. Did Carl Sittig almost kiss his bride?

  She had to know if he had recovered his wits. The beating had nearly killed him. Too bad her men hadn’t been rougher. She’d wanted and expected them to finish him off after she left. Why had Miller left him alive?

  Glee caused her to laugh as she remembered how Miller paid for that mistake. By now, little of his body could be left. She’d lured him to a dense stand of trees. The killing had been easy. One shot and she walked away, leaving the body where he’d dropped in the woods. Wolves that roamed the woods would take care of any evidence. They were more reliable than the man she shot.

  After returning from that ridiculous farce of a wedding, Mr. Olsen had left her home alone. In fact, he’d walked her to the door and then had run off to gossip with his cronies in the Biergarten. All the better for her. He made it easy for her to keep him in the dark about her activities.

  She hated this town and especially the mercantile she had to operate for her lazy husband. Oh for the day when she could leave Idyll Wood and Ollie Olsen.

  Hugging arms around her middle, Cora rocked as she stared out the window into the darkness. Soon, she promised herself. Soon, Idyll Wood would be only a bad memory.

  Staring into the dark didn’t bring her peace. Did Carl Sittig remember that night? Why had he lived? Ralph Stinson had to die. Carl needed to die, too.

  She smiled. At least killing Stinson had been done right. He’d already blabbered to the sheriff about Zelly Fuller’s kidnapping. After the handoff he’d witnessed between her and the Potowamis, she couldn’t let him live. No, he was sure to mess up her night time business.

  Anxiety gripped her as the fear nagged at her again. Had Carl recognized her that night? She’d worn her husband’s clothes. It came in handy that they were a similar height and weight. Hopefully, he would think it had been her husband that night.

  Her mouth twisted in an expression of disgust. As if her lazy and stupid spouse could carry off the kind of plans she made. She didn’t trust him with any of her secrets. That gossipy man would give her away if he knew.

  No, she hid her secrets just like she hid the profits she made. So far, she’d managed to make a tidy bit from what she sold. Even he didn’t know she was behind the operation. She hid her identity well and employed a few of the drunken savages to do her dirty work. They’d do anything to keep the liquor coming to their reservation.

  Things had gone wrong the night they killed Stinson. What a mess! Thank goodness people in town assumed it had something to do with their crooked sheriff. She’d planted a rumor in town that white slavers ha
d surprised Ralph and killed him because he botched Zelly Fuller’s abduction. Later, her husband and she whispered the gossip that the sheriff had done the man in. With his death shortly before that, the lawman couldn’t prove the gossip wrong.

  Remembering it now caused cold prickles in her stomach. It had to be due to Carl’s look that night. When she spoke in the darkness, her voice betrayed her.

  She had been sure of two things. He saw the whiskey in the wagon and knew she was behind the illegal sale of it. What else could a sane person do but order the man’s death? Of course, she could have shot him. Only, she enjoyed watching men arching in pain and crying out. And, Sittig needed to be punished for recognizing her, even though she wore a mask.

  If only she had stayed to watch him die. A little more patience on her part and she wouldn’t be suffering now. Her operation wouldn’t be threatened by an idiot. All would be good in her world if only Carl Sittig had died.

  He couldn’t be killed without questions being raised. Not after the earlier attack. Chewing the end of her thumb, she agonized over it. What to do?

  A glimmer of hope came as she watched a passing wagon’s lantern flicker. Joy caused her to laugh out loud. The Sittigs would be busy with that new brat’s birth. Could be they would lose track of Carl.

  Alone in the house, she couldn’t stop the words that bubbled out of her. “Crazy people do crazy things. I think Carl is about to be very bad.”

  Chapter 6

  Since the house was full to bursting and Merrilee was sleeping in Carl’s room, the two brothers headed to the cabin. Earlier, Carl lit a fire to warm the building. With all the activity in the house, the brothers reasoned the cabin was their best chance at a good night’s sleep. Myra kept it cleaned and aired as if it were a rich person’s guest house. Just in case visitors happened by she reasoned.

  The snow crunched under their feet, disturbing the otherwise silent night. By the light of the lantern he carried, Fred looked at Carl and shook his head. “Can’t get over it. A boy! After four girls, we have a nephew.”

  Carl nodded morosely. “Yep. Kind of thought he’d always have girls and one of our sons would get the farm.”

  Fred stopped and held the lantern closer to Carl’s face, peering at him through narrowed eyes. When he spoke, Fred’s voice held a conciliatory tone. “Cheer up, little brother. You and your kids will have your farm, if that’s what you want. Land will go up for sale and Holder will set you up.” His placating tone twisted, taking on a biting tone. Snorting derisively, Fred frowned. “You’re always leaving Holder to do the work on his own so I can’t say you seem happy working in the fields.”

  A noise kept Carl from answering. While the snow swallowed much of the sound, they could make out the approach of a horse. Extending and raising the arm that held the lantern, Fred looked in the direction of the figure. It approached rapidly.

  “My deputy. Shoot! You’d think folks in town would behave themselves on Christmas Eve.”

  Without waiting for the man to arrive, Fred headed for the barn. Carl followed and watched as his brother hung the lantern on a nail near his horse’s stall. Murmuring apologetically to the animal, Fred hoisted the saddle on the gelding’s back. A call outside the barn drew Carl away from the scene.

  With a hand on the edge of the barn door, Carl opened his mouth to speak and stopped. For a moment, he’d forgotten his act. Recovering his childish persona, he pitched his voice higher than normal and called to the man. “Fred’s in here.”

  Micah Kloha nodded. “Thanks, kiddo. I got to take him away from you. Hope you had fun on Christmas Eve.”

  Inwardly cringing at the role he played, Carl grinned impishly for the other man. “Yep. Merry played the organ and we sang until she said her legs were apple jelly from pumping.” He gave an honest laugh at Merrilee’s silly words with the girls. Their giggles had been a welcome sight after the quiet, tense supper. His wife worked magic with children. Hard to believe her claim that she’d never been around any before today.

  The deputy’s words pulled him from his thoughts. “Well, that’s good.” The man smiled absently as he stepped around Carl to enter the barn. Seeing Fred, he quickly explained the problem. “Had trouble at the Biergarten. I’ve rounded up a couple that started a fight. There’s still rumblings. Already got Myers and Connelly helping out at the jail.”

  Sternly, Fred nodded. He was all business, Carl knew, when it came to his job. “Mount up, Kloha. Let’s put these poor beasts through a tough ride and get back there.”

  Carl held the door open wide. As Fred led his horse past him, he heard his older brother mutter, “Thought the townspeople would behave tonight.”

  Surprised, Carl’s left eyebrow arched. Did his brother think the townspeople were like children? His attitude hinted at that.

  Retrieving the lantern, he checked over the other horses and the roosting chickens. A few clucked at him when the yellow glow settled on them but otherwise said nothing. Speaking to them, Carl’s voice teased them. “Guess the story of animals being able to speak on Christmas Eve isn’t true after all. Though I did kind of wonder what the goat might tell me.”

  The animal in question ignored him from his bed in the straw. Carl wondered if he might be having a relapse. Thinking that the old story of talking animals could be true! How childish.

  Outside, he carried the lantern in front of his face, extended to look for patches of ice. Rounding the barn, he covered the several feet to the cabin quickly.

  Going up the two steps to the door, Carl stopped to knock the snow from his boots. Inside, he set the lantern on the table and checked the fire. After stirring the coals, he slipped the bedwarmer into the coals and then held his cold fingers over the warmth.

  Before the iron took on a hot glow that would leave a burn on the sheets, he removed it and quickly stuck in under the covers on the side of the bed nearest the fireplace. Earlier he’d pulled back the curtains that separated the bed from the rest of the room.

  Adding a chunk of maple to the coals, he watched to be sure the wood caught fire before turning away to retrieve the bedwarmer. Satisfied that the chill had been chased off the sheets, he blew out the lantern. Stripped to his union suit, Carl settled alone in the cold bed. Alone on his wedding night! Would sleeping with his brother on his wedding night have been any better?

  A hand shook him. With a start, Carl jerked awake. He’d been thinking about his wedding night. When had he dozed?

  The lantern’s glare in his groggy eyes kept him from making out the face. He knew it was a woman. Mrs. Olsen? She’d come for him!

  Panic swept away any remaining fogginess in his mind. He leaped up and pushed at the person leaning over him. Rushing toward the kitchen area, he grabbed up the butcher knife resting on the counter.

  “You’re not finishing me off without a fight. Curse your murderous heart, Cora Olsen!”

  The woman turned and backed away from him as the light glinted off the knife’s blade. As she moved, Carl saw his wife’s terrified features in the dim light.

  “Please, calm yourself. Oh dear!” she wailed the words as she backed toward the cabin’s door.

  He returned the knife to the counter. Reaching a hand toward her, he held his palm up as if coaxing a wild animal. “You startled me. I wouldn’t hurt you, Merry.”

  Looking uncertainly over his shoulder to the spot where the knife rested, she continued to back up. With her hand behind her on the door handle, she kept her eyes on him while searching for the peg nearby. Finding it, she hung the lantern there. All without taking her eyes off of her husband.

  Cajoling her to speak, he softly asked, “Please, tell me why you’re here. Is there trouble with one of the girls or the new baby?”

  She shook her head. The hand on the handle stilled but didn’t drop away from it. “No, I saw Fred ride out. It seemed like a good time to speak to you.” Her voice grew soft and all but disappeared as she finished with one last word. “Alone.”

  “I’ve watc
hed your eyes today, Merry my bride. You know, don’t you?”

  He didn’t explain. If she saw the true man beneath his childish act, let her tell him. If he was wrong, he wouldn’t compromise his disguise by telling her.

  “I…” Her voice trailed off, fear still gripping her. She’d been downright sassy at supper. He had expected that, at her core, she was a shy and reticent person. He found this part of her endearing.

  She stepped forward. With the lantern behind her, he knew his face would be obscured. He needed her to see him. To trust him after his frightening behavior.

  Trusting her not to run out the door, he moved to the mantle and lifted a candleholder. Lowering the wick into the fireplace, he held the candle aloft for her to see him.

  Standing in the same spot, her eyes blinked as his arm held the candle between them. It reminded him of shining coons in the night when he and Fred would go hunting. Those animals would blink at the light also. He didn’t feel their fear, though, like he could Merrilee’s.

  Desperate to calm her, he soothed with his voice. “Honey, you’re safe with me. You can tell me the truth. Do you know?”

  Her neck held stiffly, Merrilee nodded woodenly. Starting and stopped several times, she finally voiced a hoarse, “I think so.”

  “Tell me what you know.” He wanted to command her yet kept his words soft and his tone light. He was still cajoling a frightened woman.

  When she didn’t speak, he tried a different approach. Allowing her to hear the grief in his words, he apologized. “I am very sorry that I woke up that way. With the lantern blinding me, I couldn’t see your face. You scared me, you know.”

  Her face changed. Everything softened, and she extended her hands to him. “Oh, I didn’t expect that to happen. I’m the one who’s sorry.” She moved to him and gripped his arm. “You poor thing.”

  So that’s why she was so good with the children. His wife was born to nurture and care for those around her. “I’ll live.” With her close, he cupped her cheek with his free hand. “You know, I loved how you took care of the girls. Thank you.”