Gifts of Christmas, Book 2
A Sweet Historical Romance
by
USA TODAY Bestselling Author
SHANNA HATFIELD
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Recipe
Author’s Note
Gift of Faith
Books by Shanna Hatfield
About the Author
Gift of Hope
Gifts of Christmas Series Book 2
Copyright © 2019 by Shanna Hatfield
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. Please purchase only authorized editions.
For permission requests, please contact the author, with a subject line of "permission request” at the email address below or through her website.
Shanna Hatfield
[email protected]
shannahatfield.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Cover Design by Shanna Hatfield
To those who instill and inspire hope in others…
Chapter One
Baker City
November 1892
“She did what?” Graydon Gaffney crushed his hat in his hand as he glared at the woman he’d assumed would one day be his mother-in-law.
Beatrice Hobken’s eyes widened in fear as she shrank away from him.
Grady swallowed the growl brewing in his throat and softened his tone. “Would you please repeat that, Mrs. Hobken? Where is Ethel?”
“Gone, Mr. Gaffney. She’s gone, just like I said. Ethel ran off yesterday morning with one of those horrid traveling salesmen. My husband discovered it was the short one with the twitchy eye who sells medicinals.” The woman sighed as she nervously twisted a lace-edged handkerchief between her hands. “I should have known she was up to something when she was acting so sweet and accommodating the previous evening.”
Mrs. Hobken chanced a glance at him. “I’m sorry, Mr. Gaffney, for your disappointment over her leaving. I can’t help but think you can do better than my frivolous child.”
Grady didn’t know what to say to her blunt comment. He studied Mrs. Hobken for a moment, noting her shiny yellow hair and petite frame were identical to Ethel’s. In spite of age dimming the luster of her youth, Mrs. Hobken was still a beautiful woman. And so was her fickle daughter. Ethel’s beauty had drawn Grady’s interest the moment he’d first set eyes on her last spring.
He'd been thoroughly enamored with Ethel, even though he doubted he had a chance at winning her affections. Yet, he’d tried. For the past six months, he’d been courting the girl, wooing her as best as he knew how.
It seemed his best wasn’t good enough, though, since Ethel apparently preferred to create a scandal and run away with a shifty-eyed salesman rather than continue to see him.
“Thank you, Mrs. Hobken.” Grady tipped his head to the distraught mother then turned and strode down the porch steps. His boots left distinctive tracks in the light dusting of snow covering the front walk as he made his way back to where he’d left his horse.
He swung into the saddle and clucked to Happy, guiding the bay gelding down the street.
Dusk streaked the sky with faint splashes of indigo and pink as he rode toward the center of town. He’d counted on spending the entire weekend in Baker City, escorting Ethel to various events before he returned to the mountains southwest of town where he was the foreman of the Lucky Larkspur Mine.
The ring he’d purchased for Ethel felt like a lead weight in his pocket. He’d envisioned proposing to her tonight after a fine supper at the fanciest hotel in town. If the timing wasn’t right, he had the dance tomorrow or after church Sunday as potential possibilities for proposing. Instead, he felt like a dunderhead for not realizing Ethel was only toying with him until someone more interesting came along.
Jilted and growing angrier with each passing second, Grady had no interest in hanging around town a minute longer than necessary. He urged Happy forward, wanting to escape civilization and head back to the mine where females were forbidden.
“Hey, Gaff!” Ian MacGregor waved to him as he walked down the street toward the dress shop his wife, Maggie, owned.
Grady reined the horse out of traffic and stopped near the boardwalk, waiting as Ian hurried toward him. The owner of the lumberyard was someone he considered a friend, even if he wasn’t in the mood to socialize. He tamped down his irritation and forced himself to keep his tone even. “Howdy, Ian.”
“Are you in town for the big dance tomorrow?” Ian asked with an affable grin as he reached up and shook his hand in greeting. “Planning to take Miss Hobken?”
“It um… well, she…” Grady sat a little straighter in the saddle, trying not to let his disappointment show. “According to her ma, she ran off with a salesman yesterday. Wish I’d known and I wouldn’t have wasted a trip into town.”
Sympathy settled over Ian’s features. “I’m verra sorry to hear that, my friend. Although, I can’t say I’m sorry ya won’t be squirin’ Miss Hobken around any longer. That lass is a conceited bit of baggage.”
Grady stared at Ian, surprised to hear him say exactly what he’d been thinking. He’d been so befuddled by Ethel’s outward beauty he hadn’t wanted to acknowledge the truth of her tendency to think only of herself. All the times he’d caught her preening at her image, all the instances when she’d finagled a compliment out of him, made him even more upset, mostly at himself, for being such a fool when it came to a pretty face.
Well, he wouldn’t make that mistake again. If the day ever came when he was willing to let another woman worm her way into his heart, he wanted one who would be steadfast and true. She could be as homely as a cross-eyed gimpy mule as far as he was concerned as long as she held real affection for him. But it was going to be a long, long while before he was interested in putting his heart on the line for another woman to destroy.
No, he’d learned his lesson.
“Will ya join me and Maggie for supper? We’d love to have ya. My folks are visitin’, ya know, and they’d enjoy hearin’ about the mine.”
Grady considered the delicious meal he’d no doubt eat if he accepted the invitation. Maggie would insist he spend the night in one of their warm, comfortable guest rooms instead of bunking in a stall at the livery with Happy, as he’d expected to do before his plans went awry.
At the moment, though, his stomach was tied in knots and a lump of disenchantment clogged his throat. He wouldn’t enjoy the meal and he wasn’t fit company for anyone this evening.
“I appreciate the invitation, Ian, but I think it best I head on up the mountain.”
Ian gave him a shocked look. “Surely, ya aren’t plannin’ on traipsin’ through the woods in the cold and dark. No woman is worth gettin’ yerself frozen or becomin’ a tasty morsel for a pack of wolves.”
Grady leveled a knowing look at Ian. “I bet you every last penny I own you’d suffer through wolves and frozen fingers for Maggie.”
Ian grinned. “That I would, but she’s my bonny bride.” He took a step toward his wife’s shop. “If ya change yer mind, yer always welcome.”
“Thank you, Ian.” Grady leaned out of the saddle and shook Ian’s hand again. “Give Maggie my regards.”
“I will.” Ian edged toward the dress shop door. “Be careful out there.”
Grady nodded then guided Happy back into the wagons, buggies, and horses traversing up and down the street.
Common sense urged him to stop at the mercantile and stock up on supplies, but he didn’t want to chance running into anyone else who might question him about Ethel. At least he hadn’t told anyone he was planning to propose. He wasn’t sure how he’d ever live that down if he’d shared his intentions with his friends. It was embarrassing enough to know he’d decided to pledge his life to a woman who cared so little about him she didn’t even leave a note of explanation before she took off with a traveling huckster.
Annoyance made him oblivious to everything but the growing anger swelling within him.
Snow began to fall about an hour after Grady left Baker City behind him. Cold seeped into his bones, making him wish he’d swallowed his bruised pride and spent the night at Ian and Maggie’s comfortable home.
Thoughts of Ian’s pronounced brogue made him smile against the frigid evening air. Whenever the lumberman got excited, or his father came to visit, his brogue thickened until he sounded like he’d just stepped off a boat from Scotland. It wouldn’t have shocked Grady at all to see Ian and his father striding around town in kilts with a set of bagpipes hanging from their arms. He’d once heard Thane Jordan, his employer, teasing Ian about wearing skirts and how his bagpipe playing sounded like he attempted to squeeze the life out of a high-strung piglet.
Although Grady hadn’t witnessed a performance from Ian, he’d heard enough to know bagpipe playing was not among the man’s talents.
As the sky turned from gray to black around him, Grady lit a small lantern, grateful for the glow of light dispelling the consuming darkness.
Something his mother once told him, long ago, whispered in his thoughts. “If you know where to look, no matter how black the night, there’s always a light and always hope.”
Much of what his mother had taught him had been forgotten or ignored once Grady struck out on his own. Occasionally, a memory would surge to the forefront of his mind and remind him of her.
As the lantern light glimmered around him, he tipped his head back and felt the soft sting of snowflakes against his skin as he glanced at the sky. “Guess I needed that reminder, Lord, that no matter how dark things get, you’re always with me, providing a light. Thank you.”
Feeling marginally better, he hunkered into the warmth of his wool-lined coat and followed the winding road that would take him back to the mine. Howls shattered the quiet stillness around him, making the hair on the back of his neck stand upright.
Lantern held high, his gaze darted around, peering through the swirls of snow to see if he and Happy were about to be attacked. Another string of howls brought him a measure of relief as he realized the sound came from coyotes, not wolves. Unless they were rabid or starving, he wasn’t in any danger. It was early enough in the season they shouldn’t be hungry. After the story of a rabid prisoner dying in the jail last spring traveled throughout the area, everyone had been on the hunt for rabid animals, ridding the county of them as best they could.
In spite of his melancholy over lost love, Grady couldn’t help but be amused as he thought of Deputy Durfey’s pet racoon. More accurately, the man’s wife’s pet racoon, but from what he’d seen, Dugan Durfey was every bit as charmed by the furry little masked bandit as Delilah. She’d tamed the critter, much to everyone’s amazement, and Ollie followed her around like a trained puppy. He was a cute thing, when he wasn’t trying to snitch candy out of pockets or cookies off plates.
To get his blood circulating through his feet, Grady swung off Happy and led him for a while, stamping his feet and swinging his arms as he walked.
Grady considered the possibility of getting a pet. Thane wouldn’t care if he had a dog or even a cat at the mine, and an animal would be better company than no one. Loneliness was the reason he’d talked himself into proposing to Ethel. He was tired of being alone. Tired of having no one to talk to other than the miners he supervised. Tired of living only for himself.
He wanted—needed—someone to share his life with.
“How’d that work out for you, Gaff?” he asked on a derisive snort as he left the road and cut through the trees to take a shortcut to the mine. He’d ridden the path so many times, he could find it blindfolded which was just as well since the snow hampered his vision.
He swung back onto Happy, eager to return to the solitude of the mine and his snug cabin. Although it wasn’t overly large, his cabin was warm and clean, and had been his home for the past several years.
Thane Jordan was a good employer, one of the best in the area if a man wanted to work in a mine. Grady earned a generous wage and was treated fairly, and with respect.
When he was younger, he used to waste his money like so many of the other miners, spending it at the saloons in town. The morning he woke up at the doctor’s office with a hole in his side from a gunshot wound, he realized it was time to change. He’d been so drunk, he couldn’t even remember getting shot. That was the moment he knew he had to turn his life around. He quit drinking and traipsing off to the saloons whenever he got paid, saving his money and dreaming of the day when he could purchase land of his own. He wanted to raise cattle, and he thought he might grow a few crops, too.
Unwisely, he thought Ethel was the one to help make his dreams for the future come true. How stupid he’d been! She would never have been content as the wife of a miner and Grady had no intention of taking a job in town. No, it was best things had worked out as they had, even if he was so mad at the girl for running out on him, he could spit nails.
“Women are nothing but a bushel of trouble. Isn’t that right, Happy?” he asked the horse, rubbing a hand along the gelding’s neck.
Happy’s ears twitched and his head turned to the right, as though he heard something.
Grady held up the lantern, struggling to distinguish any sound through the gloom enveloping him. He couldn’t see anything beyond the hulking shapes of nearby trees. “Get on up, Happy. Let’s go home.”
The horse continued up the trail about a hundred yards when Grady heard something that sounded like a woman’s scream.
A shiver slithered down his spine. The last thing he needed was to run into a cougar in the dark. They sometimes made a sound like a woman screaming. Considering how far they were up the mountain, it seemed much more logical to assume the noise came from an animal than a human.
He urged the horse onward. “Come on, boy.”
Grady strained to hear any noise beyond that of his own breathing and the creak of the saddle beneath him. He listened as snow continued to fall around him, shrouding him in an eerie atmosphere of frosted shadows and silence.
An anguished cry floated across the night to his ears and he tugged the horse to a stop. He’d probably regret it, but he turned Happy toward the sound. On the slim chance it was a human, he couldn’t just ride off and leave her in the storm.
With the lantern casting shards of light into the storm, he rode through the trees until a dim glow began to grow brighter in the distance. Focused on the light ahead, he almost rode over a woman as she sat on the ground, swathed in a dark cloak, head buried against her upraised knees.
He managed to avoid trampling her and pulled Happy to a stop. The woman’s sobs made him want to turn around and flee, but he held his ground.
“Ma’am? Are you okay?” he asked, raising his voice to be heard over the storm and her hysteria.
Consumed by her tears, she had no idea he’d nearly ridden over the top of her. Her head whipped up and a squeak of surprise burst out of her as she jumped to her feet, as though she prepared
to run from him. Her cloak and skirts twisted around her legs and she fell forward into the snow.
Grady jumped off the horse, hung the lantern from his saddle horn, and bent down by the prone form of the woman.
Much to his dismay, when he placed his hands on her arms to help her up, she turned to him while tormented sobs wracked her body. She buried her face against his chest and cried.
Caught off guard, Grady didn’t know what to do, other than pat her back and murmur expressions of comfort.
“It’s okay,” he whispered. “Everything will be fine.” Even if he wasn’t convinced of the truth of his words, they sounded assuring.
His knees were wet and numb from where he rested in the snow with the woman held to his chest. He had no idea how long she cried great gulps of agony that seemed to come straight from her soul. Minutes felt like hours as he held her, comforted her, wondered what calamity drove her into the storm to expel such boundless sorrow.
Suddenly, she yanked away from him and scrambled to her feet.
Slowly, with careful movements, Grady rose and lifted the lantern from the saddle. “I don’t mean you any harm, ma’am. Are you injured?” he asked, holding the light out toward her and attempting to study her. All he could see was a form swathed in a heavy dark cloak. Even her face remained hidden beneath its folds. “I heard you scream.”
“I’m s-s-sorry,” she stuttered, keeping her face shadowed beneath the dark recesses of her hood. He heard her sniffle twice, as though she struggled to gain her composure.
Grady didn’t know whether to leave her alone or insist on escorting her back to the cabin he could barely see in the distance. If she was his woman, he wouldn’t want her out on such a cold, snowy night, especially in such a state of distress.
Then again, what did he know about women? The one he thought he wanted to marry was on a train with a shyster headed for places unknown.
Regardless of his personal experience, he just couldn’t ride off and leave a woman who was obviously in pain alone in the woods at night.
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