Country Wishes

by RaeAnne Hadley

  Christmas Day 1875

  I awoke early, left the bed, washed up and dressed before slipping downstairs. No one else was about, so I headed for the kitchen and started a pot of coffee. It wasn’t long before, one by one, everyone followed their noses to the enticing aroma of a freshly made brew.

  Everyone wished each other a Merry Christmas, hugged, kissed or shook hands. The only one who hadn’t made an appearance was Max and I was anxious to see him. I hadn’t seen a great deal of him the previous day.

  The snowfall had been heavy and the men of the ranch, including Edward who was again home from college and Christopher who offered to help, had spent the day checking that none of the cattle were in trouble. By the time they arrived back at the house, and joined us for supper, they were too exhausted for anything but bed.

  Max had kissed me sweetly, wished me a good night and headed upstairs. I felt sad I hadn’t been able to give him the gift I’d carefully selected.

  Mr. Long knew we were all disappointed and had assured us, they wouldn’t be stepping foot outside on Christmas Day until gifts had been shared and breakfast was taken.

  I was startled when the kitchen door near where I stood, opened and Max entered on a cold gust of wind.

  “Morning everyone, Merry Christmas.” He moved to my side, wrapped his arm around my waist and kissed my cheek.

  “Everything okay outside, son?”

  “The snow has stopped, and all is good. I told the men to go and enjoy Christmas, I’ll take care of what needs doing later along with Edward.”

  “Well, thanks for volunteering me, big brother.”

  “Gotta make sure college isn’t turning you weak, little brother.”

  “Come into the parlour for a moment.” Max whispered in my ear.

  We excused ourselves and Max pulled me through to where the Christmas tree sat almost buried in gifts.

  Max reached over the back, picked something out and pushed it into his pocket.

  “Sit down, Abigail. I would like to talk to you.”

  Tears welled in my eyes; Max sounded so serious. Were we done? Had he decided I wasn’t for him after all? Had I worn my pretty new dress and left my hair down in curls for nothing?

  You knew this might happen, Max said he couldn’t make any promises. I sat upright, determined not to break into tears.

  He paced before me, rubbing his hand across his mouth.

  “Please just say what you need to, Max, I’ll understand.”

  He stopped and gave me a quizzical look before fixing his eyes on mine.

  “Abigail, when I first asked if I could call on you, I wasn’t sure of how I felt. I knew I cared a great deal for you but didn’t know if it was enough.”

  “I know you didn’t promise me anything, Max and I understand.”

  “Let me finish.’ After I nodded, he continued. “When you were kidnapped and I thought you might be dead, I’d never felt such grief. I realized then, my feelings for you were deeper than I’d imagined. Over the past few months, I’ve fallen in love with you and I can’t imagine not sharing our lives together.”

  Tears broke free and ran over my cheeks as Max dropped to one knee and held out a blue velvet box. When he flipped the lid up, a beautiful diamond ring, flanked by sapphires was revealed. My hands covered my mouth, I trembled and tears flowed freely, I’d never been happier.

  “Abigail, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

  I shot forward, wrapped my arms around Max’s neck and squealed yes before kissing him deeply.

  Shouts, whistles and clapping sounded and when I glanced at the door to the parlour, it was to find everyone watching.

  “They all knew?”

  “Yep, I told them a month ago. Merry Christmas, darling. I love you so very much.”

  I threw myself into Max’s arms and peppered his face with kisses. “I love you Max, I have never loved anyone else.”

  Max pulled me onto my feet, everyone kissed me, congratulated Max and hugged us both. When everyone left us alone to go back to the kitchen, we kissed again.

  I would remember this Christmas as the best ever. My wish at the well had come true – Max had declared his love for me.

  The magical well would forever hold a special place in my heart, along with the Lord, it had given me so much.

  THE END

  As this story is part of an anthology, where word count was limited, I have chosen to leave out the time of Abigail and Max’s courtship and Mildred and Albie’s escape.

  The full story will be released in 2020 and all will be revealed. Abigail and Max’s wedding will also be included.

  Sue

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  Wishing Well

  Serenade

  Margaret Tanner

  WISHING WELL SERENADE

  Copyright © 2019 Margaret Tanner

  Thank you for downloading this e-book. It remains the copyrighted property of the author and may not be reproduced, scanned, or distributed for any commercial or noncommercial use without permission from the author and publisher. Quotes used in reviews are the exception. No alteration of content is allowed. If you enjoy this book, then please encourage your friends to purchase their own copy.

  This story is a work of fiction, and to enhance the story, some literary license has been taken regarding setting. All characters are a figment of the author’s imagination.

  Acknowledgements: Many thanks to my author friends, Susan Horsnell and Cheryl Wright, for all their help and support.

  A special thank you to my wonderful readers.

  Blurb

  In Hopeful Colorado, childhood sweethearts, Adam and Emmie play by the wishing well. Enthralled by tales of its magic, Emmie makes a wish that one day Adam will marry her.

  As they grow up, their lives take very different paths. Adam becomes a gun for hire, while Emmie is widowed and left with a little boy to support.

  Hired by a greedy speculator, Adam rides into town to scare a widow off her land. He is shocked to discover Emmie living on the ranch with her son.

  After Adam is ambushed and shot, Emmie nurses him back to health. The flames of their childhood love quickly flare into life.

  Fearing that enemies from his past will catch up with him and endanger Emmie and her son’s life, Adam decides to ride away and never return.

  Will the wishing well live up to its reputation and grant the wish Emmie made so long ago? Or will Adam disappear from her life for ever?

  Chapter One

  HOPEFUL, COLORADO

  November 1877

  Adam Petrie rode into Hopeful and glanced around. It hadn’t changed much in nearly twenty years. He felt dirty and sweaty even though the mountain air had a chill in it. He rubbed his hand across the several days of beard growth on his jaw. A bath, a shave, a decent meal, followed by a couple of whiskeys and a woman if he felt in the mood.

  This was the pattern of his life, moving from one town to the next, never staying anywhere for long. A drifter, despised by respectable folk unless they needed his gun-hand.

  He patted his gelding’s sweating neck. “Well, Phantom, my boy, a nice belly full of oats for you and a good rub down at the livery. How does that sound?” They had ridden long and hard to get here, but the money on offer was good.

  Ah, the old wishing well, situated near the bank just as he remembered from his boyhood. He had a sudden urge to check and see if the large chip he had gouged out of one of the top stones was still there. Dismounting, he hooked the reins through his arm and strode over to the well.

  The childhood serenade from long ago suddenly echoed in his ears.

  If you
look into the wishing well

  It will cast a magic spell

  Your dearest wish will come true

  This is all you have to do

  Emmie had sung the words, her brown curls bobbing over her shoulders as she grabbed his hand so they could skip around.

  He ran the tip of his forefinger across the rim of the well until he felt the indentation in the stone work. He hadn’t forgotten it, or the beating he had received for making it so Emmie would know the exact spot to touch. Three times in quick succession for luck. She would close her eyes and make a wish. He never knew what the wish was.

  “It won’t come true if I tell you,” she used to say.

  She had grey eyes that turned to blue, depending on the color of the sky, and he had loved her with all the passion a ten year old boy was capable of. He remembered her pesky little brother Billy, always tagging along, never letting him have Emmie to himself.

  What had happened to Emmie and her family? He supposed they might have moved on. Her father had come here for the gold, although most of the easy stuff had petered out over the years causing the miners to move on to what they hoped were richer pickings on some other goldfield.

  “Well, that’s it,” he muttered. “No more trips down memory lane.” Tomorrow he would learn what Bryson Dodd was prepared to pay him so much money for. He probably wouldn’t like it, he rarely did. A man had to earn a living somehow and being quick on the draw was the only talent he had.

  He led Phantom over to the livery and delivered him into the hands of a skinny young boy. “Give him a good rub down and plenty of oats, he’s earned it.” He flicked the kid a coin and the skinny little hand snatched it up midair.

  “I’ll look after him good, Mister. You the gunslinger Mr. Dodd hired?”

  “None of your business, boy, just look after my horse.” He handed over the reins, gathered up his saddlebags and strode off.

  Hotel with bath and meals, the sign said. Sounded just the place for him. He deserved to treat himself to something decent every now and again. If he had to stay in town for too long to finish the job, he would find somewhere cheaper.

  He strode up to the fancy looking desk with a youngish, balding man sitting at it. “I’d like a room for one night, maybe two. Oh, and I need a bath.

  “Can you pay?” His voice had a haughty edge to it

  “Yes. I’m travel worn, not poor,” Adam snapped. “I’ll pay for one night then make up my mind if I’m staying longer. The man’s gaze focused on the twin Colts he wore in the fancy leather holsters he had won in a card game about eight years ago.

  He paid what he thought was an exorbitant amount, obviously comfort didn’t come cheap in Hopeful.

  “I’ll put these saddlebags in my room, then I need a bath.”

  Mr. Haughty rang a bell and within a couple of minutes a young maid sashayed up to him. “What can I do for you, handsome?” She brazenly ran her eyes from the top of his head to the toes of his scuffed boots.

  “Show the man to his room. Number twelve, then to the bath house. And none of your sass, either.”

  The girl poked her tongue at him and Adam guessed they were related, otherwise she wouldn’t have got away with it.

  “What’s your name?” she asked, fluttering her eyelashes at him. Talk about brazen.

  “Adam.”

  “Ooh, that’s a manly name.” She slowly ran her tongue along her lower lip.

  She was attractive enough, although he wasn’t interested in her and certainly wouldn’t take what she was so brazenly offering to him. He preferred to pay for what he wanted. No complications that way. She opened the door to his room and handed over the key.

  “Where’s the bath house?”

  “It’s three doors down from here. There’s a sign, you can’t miss it.”

  “Thanks, I’ll be able to find my own way there.”

  “Are you sure I can’t wash your back?”

  “Yes.” He stepped into the room and all but slammed the door on her. He must be getting old, the brazen young thing wouldn’t be more than about sixteen years old.

  He tossed his saddlebags on to an armchair and unbuckled his gun belt, folded it up and placed it in the dresser drawer. He took out his shaving gear, a clean shirt, pants, socks and drawers. He would have to find somewhere or someone to wash his clothes before he left Hopeful.

  He easily found his way to the bathing room, which contained several hip baths, each divided by a half wall. Two young Chinese women, supervised by an older woman, were filling buckets of cold water from a large barrel with wheels on it. A large copper, obviously full of hot water by the steam rising from it, stood in one corner. Without speaking, one of the women handed him a towel and a small square of soap.

  “We wash clothes for Mister?” the older woman asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Will bring them to Mister’s room.”

  “Okay, room twelve.”

  “One dollar, for bath and washing.”

  He paid over the money.

  “You like hot?”

  “Yes.”

  Two large buckets of hot water were tipped into the bath followed by three buckets of cold. He waved the women away, stripped of his clothes and climbed into the tub. To fully stretch out his legs he would have to dangle them over the top because of his height. He relaxed back into the hot water and closed his eyes. All this was probably overpriced but worth every cent of it. Once he had a shave he would feel like a new man.

  Letting his mind drift, he again thought of the couple of months he had spent here as a child. Reno and his wife Sylvana were gypsies who had found him wandering alone in the wilderness when he was about four years old. He knew his name was Adam Petrie, but little else except he had been on a wagon train.

  Reno had searched for his parents on and off over the years as they traveled around Wyoming and Montana, but they were never found. He didn’t know whether they were alive or dead. Reno and Sylvana were the only parents he knew. Reno had been strict, Sylvana a little less so. He had grown up with their two daughters who were years older than him, so they used to mother him as well.

  With his dark hair, he could have passed for a gypsy except for his blue eyes. They had traveled around, never stopping anywhere for long. His schooling had been intermittent, although he could read and write. When he was about ten they had made their way here and he had met Emmie. She was two years younger than him, but very protective.

  Gypsy, gypsy, stinking smell

  Gypsy, gypsy, go to hell

  A group of kids started chanting at him one day until Emmie had stepped in and pushed the ringleader over. Brave little Emmie. It broke his heart when he had to leave Hopeful and her.

  I wonder what happened to her. He had mourned her loss for a couple of years until other things began to interest him, but he never completely forgot her. A pretty girl like her would be married by now, have a few kids most probably.

  When the Beaver moon was at its height, the magic of the wishing well was at its most powerful according to Emmie.

  They had sneaked away from their parents to meet at the well to await the moon. Because Billy wasn’t with her, he had sneaked a kiss. Merely a brushing of their closed mouths, but they thought it was grown up kissing. He grinned on remembering it.

  A couple of times over the years he had thought about trying to find her. What was the use? It wasn’t as if he had anything to offer her. Before the war he had been too young. After the war he had been too angry and bitter. She sure deserved more than what he could give her, and he sincerely hoped she had got it.

  He was tempted to ask for more water, but didn’t, he had been here long enough as it was. By the time he had a shave and something to eat, he’d be ready for bed. He wasn’t in the mood for anything else.

  Somehow he felt unsettled. He didn’t have a good feeling about this job Bryson Dodd had lined up for him. The money was so good he couldn’t refuse to come. He detested the man, sly sonofabitch had made a for
tune on the black market during the war. A job was a job, though, and he didn’t have to like it, just do what he had to do before riding out of town and not looking back.

  When he became slower on the draw he wasn’t sure what he would do. A bullet in the back was likely, or some kid wanting the notoriety of killing Adam Petrie, would beat him to the draw.

  Once he was dried and dressed, he handed over his dirty clothes to one of the women.

  “Will bring all clean in morning,” she said.

  “Thank you.” He didn’t know how the woman could get them dry so quickly in this kind of weather.

  Several shaving mirrors were attached to the wall, each with a basin and jug. He lathered his face and carefully used his razor to scrape away the dark stubble.

  Feeling revitalized, he strode back to his room to put his shaving gear away. He combed his hair. It covered the collar of his shirt. Almost time for a haircut. Now for a fat, juicy steak, fried potatoes with greens at the Talk and Fork Diner.

  Chapter Two

  Adam strode along the boardwalk until he came to the Talk and Fork Diner.

  A middle-age woman met him at the door. “A table for one? She quirked an eyebrow.

  “Yes, thanks.”

  She led him to a corner table. “Just so you can see anyone who walks in.” She gave him a conspiratorial wink. “You’re Adam Petrie. I’d watch my back if I were you.”

  She walked away leaving him fuming. Dodd had probably spread the word he was coming to install fear amongst the populace. He preferred to arrive in town without fanfare, do the job and leave. Safer that way. It had kept him in good stead over the years. His feeling of disquiet escalated.

  He ate his meal with enjoyment. The steak was as tender and juicy as he had hoped it would be. Even as he ate he kept his gaze on the door. Nothing untoward happened and he started to relax.

  A couple at the next table mentioned the wishing well and he pricked up his ears.