Carol's Choice

by Kimberly Grist

  Carol’s Choice

  A Western Christmas Carol

  By

  Kimberly Grist

  Copyright © 2019 Kimberly Grist

  Published by Forget Me Not Romances (a division of Winged Publications)

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the permission of author or Forget Me Not Romances.

  All of the characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events is purely coincidental.

  Chapter 1

  October 1890

  Twenty-year-old Carol Stone studied her image in a small mirror and checked the arrangement of her tawny hair peeking out beneath her straw boater hat, trimmed with a plaid ribbon. She returned the compact to her reticule and glanced around the law office with its paneled walls of dark mahogany and carpeted floor of rich magenta. She leaned back against the leather upholstered chair and blew out a sigh. I hope the attorney has some good news for a change.

  The door creaked, and her advocate, Samuel Roberts, appeared wearing a dapper suit and patterned vest. “Good morning, Miss Stone. I’m sorry to have kept you waiting.” Robert's waistline protruded, his hairline receded and his brown eyes and ruddy cheeks reminded Carol of the autumn shades she'd admired this morning strolling through the park. The attorney propped his glasses on the tip of his nose and retrieved a file from his middle drawer.

  “I’ve done a bit more research since our last conversation and your recollection is correct. Your father did, in fact, own property in Texas, and although the acreage was sold to the railroad some years back, the house in town still stands. As his only child and sole heir, you are the rightful owner.”

  Carol’s hand covered her neck. “Thank goodness.” Her eyebrows drew together. “The children’s uncle would have no say if I were to choose to take my brother and sister to live there with me?”

  “No say at all.” The attorney turned the page of the last will and testament and studied the document. “Your stepfather and mother were specific about your half-siblings’ care being left to you. Honestly, other than to ensure their needs are met, he shows no interest in the day-to-day care of the children.”

  Lines framed Mr. Roberts’s mouth. “Perhaps it’s his success in the business world that drives him, but he seems only interested in facts, calculations and the management of the finances. But I have one concern. If you were to decide to go against his wishes and live outside his sphere of influence, he could deny monetary support.”

  “Even if money was left in trust for me to take care of my brother and sister?” Carol gasped.

  Mr. Roberts tapped the paper with his pencil. “Mr. Jacobs has a great deal of clout in this state. At the very least, it would be within his power to delay your allowance.”

  Carol took in a deep breath. “I have a little money set aside of my own. Perhaps if I was careful, I could manage for a while.”

  Mr. Roberts rubbed his chin. “Miss Stone, in order for me to best advise you, tell me why you are so intent on going out on your own. Has someone made inappropriate advances or tried to hurt you in any way?”

  “No, nothing of the sort.” Carol bit her lip. “As you indicated, my stepfather’s brother is motivated purely by opportunities for financial growth. It’s as though love and affection are alien concepts. He is determined to see me married to a colleague of his. This particular person frightens me. I’m afraid to think what he might do to force a marriage between us.”

  “I see.” The attorney’s face grew ruddier. “Have you mentioned this concern to Mr. Jacobs?”

  Carol swallowed. “I have. He dismissed the idea, called it hogwash. Mr. Jacobs referred to me as spoiled and ungrateful …a dreamer like my father. The rest doesn’t matter.”

  The attorney pinched the bridge of his nose, then shuffled through paper. “I received a reply from my inquiry, and the sheriff assured me the house is situated in a safe area and close to the mercantile, church and school. But the description states the structure is extremely small. I grew up in a rural area and have fond memories of my childhood. Having said that, I want you to understand you’re considering a lifestyle completely different from your current one.” He rose from his chair and perched on the side of the desk. “Perhaps we should delay and try to come up with another alternative. After all, unless you marry before your next birthday, you will receive five-hundred dollars this time next year when you turn twenty-one.”

  Carol’s hand went to her stomach. “One part of me wants to stay here and agree to a marriage of convenience with someone who would allow me to raise my brother and sister. As you say, I would bring a small inheritance to the union. Conversely, I wonder if there might be someone out there who would love me as I am—brother and sister in tow, without money as a lure.”

  The attorney leaned forward. “Miss Stone, even though it has been almost a full year since the death of your stepfather and mother, you and your siblings are still grieving. I’d hate to see you make a hasty decision. Especially one that involves marriage.”

  Carol’s feet brushed across the plush oriental rug. “Mr. Roberts, you’re aware of the nature of my finances. I have little to work with. At this point, the house in Carrie Town is my best option.”

  “If I were in your position, I imagine I would make the same decision. But I must warn you, Mr. Jacobs is not a man to be crossed. You will need to be careful with your living expenses and not expect the children’s uncle to do the right thing. Are you prepared to do your own cooking and cleaning?”

  Carol twisted her reticule. “My brother and sister are young enough they may look at this as a grand adventure. And although I’m not totally without domestic skills, a small house may be easier to run. I’m prepared to do whatever is necessary to make this work. It’s a temporary solution until I receive my inheritance next year.”

  ~

  Mark Montgomery steered the wagon toward the front of his older brother’s one-and-a-half story house with its gabled roof. Mike had whitewashed the veranda that ran across the front of the structure. An aroma of lime and chalk drifted toward Mark. He retrieved the screen door from the back of the buckboard and ambled toward the front porch.

  “You made quick work of the paint job.” Mark inclined his head toward the freshly painted house, now a rich indigo and trimmed in a bright white.

  “There wasn’t much to do. It’s a small house.”

  “That’s an understatement if I’ve ever heard one.” Mark chuckled.

  “The porch adds a bit of square footage.” Mike rubbed his chin. “There’s probably enough room for a swing and a rocking chair.”

  “We got another telegram.” Mark pulled the paper from his pocket. “Thought maybe I ought to offer to help so we can complete the list of repairs. It seems the owner will be here quicker than originally planned.”

  “The first scope of work requested we ensure the home was habitable. The house is sound and freshly painted. The doors and windows lock, the stove works. I repaired the railing to the upstairs loft, so that takes care of everything on the list.”

  Mark scratched his head. “The message says we’re to pick up freight and deliver it back here.”

  Mike’s eyebrows shot up. Without a word he took a measure of the porch by stretching his long legs in five strides. “This building can’t be more than sixteen by twenty. Hopefully, their definition of freight is different than yours and mine. Maybe it’s just an iron bed or a trunk or two.”

  Mark posted his hands on his hips and stared at the tiny home just wide enough for a front door sandwiched betw
een two small windows. “It’s logical that a rancher or farmer who lives eight or ten miles away from town would want to have a place to stay when they come in for supplies or to attend church.”

  “Hope they like to live close to their neighbor as well.” Mike nodded at the similarly sized house next door. “The Murphy’s home is less than a stone’s throw away and they’re here almost every other Saturday.”

  “I wonder if this fellow—” Mark opened the telegraph again. —"has purchased a property close by?”

  “We’ll find out soon enough.” Mike shrugged his broad shoulders.

  Chapter 2

  Carol placed one hand on her eight-year-old brother’s blond head and held her five-year-old sister’s hand with the other while waiting on the wooden platform. The engineer peeked his head out the window and pulled on the cord, resulting in two long whistles. Clouds of steam shot up from the engine, and the clanging of hundreds of moving parts joined together lyrically as the locomotive chugged away from the station.

  “I guess this is it then?” Her brother, Andrew, puffed up his chest. “It doesn’t look too scary.”

  Carol’s mouth twitched at her brother’s bravado. She surveyed the small community. Mr. Roberts had warned her that, although the town benefited from the railroad expansion, it was of modest size and the streets were unpaved. Even so, Carrie Town was smaller than she imagined. From her standpoint at the station, the buildings were built on one side of the tracks and included a post office, blacksmith, livery stable, hotel and a bank.

  She glanced down at her five-year-old sister. Annie’s wide blue eyes appeared more vivid from beneath her green hooded cape. She clutched her china doll tightly under her arm. “Where’s our house?”

  Carol forced a smile. “It’s not far from the station and close to the church and school. I imagine we could walk if we knew which direction. But Mr. Roberts arranged for someone to meet us here, so we can have our luggage transported. The rest of our things should already be at our new home.”

  When a gust of wind threatened to blow off her feathered, high-crowned hat, she anchored it with a hand, her flapping skirt sending a chill up her spine. “Let’s check with the station manager. The sooner we’re out of this weather and enjoy a nice warm bath, the better we’ll all feel.”

  Andrew tugged at his bow tie, his boots shuffling along the platform. He’d insisted on leaving his sailor suit behind, stating he was now the “man of the family.” He wore a wool coat over narrow trousers, a matching tweed vest and jacket with a turndown collar. Thankfully their uncle was away on business and Mr. Roberts had transferred her quarterly allowance. She’d taken advantage of his absence and arranged travel, having purchased appropriate clothes for the children’s life in the west. Except for the splurge of a new sofa and chair, her nest egg remained intact.

  Annie tugged on Carol’s hand and skipped toward the baggage handler who was unloading luggage onto a cart.

  “Pardon me, sir.” Carol pulled a piece of paper from her wool jacket pocket. ”I’m to meet Mr. Montgomery from the livery stable to transport me, my siblings and our luggage to our home. Could you tell me where I might find him?”

  A deep voice interrupted. “Excuse me, ma’am, I’m Mark Montgomery.” The morning sun reflected an elongated shadow above her head.

  Shielding her eyes, Carol peered up at a tall, broad-shouldered man in a checkered shirt and leather vest. He tipped his Stetson, displaying a glimpse of dark wavy hair. “Is your husband with you?”

  “My husband?” Carol clenched her fists. “I’m not married.”

  The man’s dark eyebrows drew together. “Are you the folks who are moving into the Sunday house?”

  Carol blinked. “The Sunday house? No. We are moving into a house in town that once belonged to my father, Carlton Stone. My attorney has been in contact with you about making sure it was comfortable.”

  “It’s habitable.” Mark Montgomery rubbed his chin. “My brother and I delivered quite a few crates and trunks earlier this week.” He glanced at Andrew and Annie. “Do you have bags as well?”

  “Of course, we do.” Carol frowned.

  “Mister, are you a cowboy?” Andrew’s eyes were wide.

  “I think he’s a giant,” Annie exclaimed.

  Mark Montgomery crouched down in front of both children and broke into a wide grin. “Well, the fact is I’m neither. My brothers and I own the livery stable and we do all sorts of things from shoeing horses to building wagons and houses. But right now we’d best get you folks out of this wind. The weather has turned downright nippy.”

  He extended his arm toward a buckboard. “Why don’t we get you settled, and then I’ll grab the rest of your luggage.”

  “There’s only one large trunk and then the three bags.” Carol nodded toward the cart.

  “Well, let’s get to it then.” Mark lifted both children onto the front seat and covered them with a blanket. “It won't be but just a minute. Y’all sit tight.”

  He placed his hand on Carol’s waist and swung her next to her siblings. His dark eyes twinkled. “Make use of the blanket while I get the rest of your things.”

  Within moments the trunk and bags were loaded and they were on their way. “How far is the house from here?”

  “Only a few blocks. It’s close to the school and the church. And although it’s small, it’s sturdy enough. Y'all should be snug as a bug in a rug come winter.” He winked at Andrew and Annie, who immediately burst into laughter.

  “You're funny.” Annie beamed.”But you sure are big. Are you certain you're not a giant?”

  “Annie, enough. Mind your manners.” Carol frowned. “Mr. Montgomery is nice and tall like Dr. Murdock back home.”

  “Do you know Dr. Murdock?” Annie inclined her head.

  Mark’s brown eyes crinkled and he gave a half smile. “Can’t say I’ve had the pleasure.”

  “You definitely don’t know him then. He’s not pleasant, and if you're not already sick, the medicine he gives will make you—”

  “Annie.” Carol cleared her throat.

  Mr. Montgomery’s shoulders shook with laughter. “Here we are.” He pulled the buggy under a huge oak tree.

  Carol clutched the edge of her seat. “Oh my goodness. There must be some mistake.”

  Mark pushed his hat to the back of his head. His voice was soft. “No mistake, ma’am. Unless you own two houses in Carrie Town.”

  “It’s so cute.” Annie’s smile grew wide. She patted her sister’s arm. “It’s like a dollhouse. Can Andrew and I go in?”

  Carol nodded and stared at the tiny structure. Her voice cracked, “My attorney said it was small, but I had no idea.” She turned toward Mr. Montgomery. “Is it just one room?”

  “Folks around here refer to structures like this as Sunday houses. Most were built as a place to stay when families come into town to attend church and pick up supplies.”

  He swung Annie to the ground, and she followed Andrew, who’d jumped from the wagon unassisted onto the porch.

  “There’s a loft.” He cleared his throat. “The ceiling’s low, but you can stand up in the center. It ought to be just right for the children.”

  Lifting her skirts, Carol took the stairs onto the porch. She took in a deep breath and pushed open the front door. A faint aroma of beeswax greeted her. Beams of sunlight shone through the two windows and reflected onto the white clapboard walls, highlighting the glow of the hardwood floors. A small wooden dining table, four chairs and a pie safe stood next to the pot-bellied stove. Her floral camelback sofa and matching armchair stood on the opposite end of the room.

  The sound of children’s laughter drew her attention to a ladder mounted to the wall that led to the second floor. Andrew peered over the railing. “Look, Sissy, it’s like a fort. We scaled up the same as mountain climbers.”

  Annie’s face appeared. “There’s enough room for my dolls and Andrew’s books and his marbles and everything.” Her blue eyes sparkled.

&
nbsp; Carol gasped. “Annie, did you climb up there by yourself?”

  “Of course I did. Come on up.” Her brow furrowed. “Maybe Mr. Montgomery will give you a boost?”

  Mark coughed to hide a laugh. “It’s clear the children like it. But there’s also a door and staircase which lead outside. My brother and I made sure the railings were secure.” His brown eyes studied her. “I'll get the rest of your things.”

  Carol sank onto the settee and looked at the rest of the pint-sized room. Various crates were stacked around its perimeter. A narrow worktable was positioned along the wall next to the back door. Multiple hooks for pots and pans were nailed beside and above the window. She jumped to her feet, her hands covering her cheeks. “There’s no plumbing.”

  Chapter 3

  Children’s laughter greeted Mark as he deposited three suitcases in the crowded room. The young woman he’d picked up from the station stared out the back window. She seemed out of place in her fancy silk dress and high-crowned hat. He rubbed his chin. “Would you like me to pass up the suitcases to the children?”

  She pivoted and her blue eyes blinked rapidly. “Yes, thank you. The two smaller ones belong to them.”

  “Although it’s unseasonably cold today, it turns chilly this time of year in the evening. Do you know how to start the fire?” He nodded toward the stove. “There’s wood stacked on the back porch.”

  “I have a vague idea.” Miss Stone blew out a breath. “My cook showed me how to light the one at home, but it doesn’t look anything like this.”

  Mark studied the dark circles under the woman’s eyes and the downturn of her mouth. For some reason, he felt the urge to make her smile. “Y’all must be tired after spending days on the train. Why don’t we get you loaded back in the wagon and I’ll take you over to my family’s house for dinner? My youngest sister recently got married, and I know my mother would enjoy your company. What do you say?”