A Vow for Christmas

by Linda Carroll-Bradd

  Biscuit wiggled to face the stranger. She sniffed the air, glanced between the stranger and her owner, then tucked her tail between her legs.

  “I beg your pardon, Miss Carmichael. I’ve acted like a brute. Getting two youngsters dressed, fed, and to the depot by your eight o’clock arrival occupied all my thoughts.” His dark-eyed gaze connected with hers. “I forgot you’ve been riding a train overnight.”

  Feeling as cowed as Biscuit by this man’s presence, she could only stare. Vika smoothed a hand over her now-quiet dog. “For most of three days, in truth.”

  “Of course.” He waved his hat toward the children. “Let me load Lance and Guinie into the wagon then I’ll return for that basket…and you.”

  Watching him walk away, she realized two interesting items. At least she was included in the same sentence as his children. Unfortunately, he mentioned her, his soon-to-be wife, last.

  Chapter Four

  Berating himself as a blasted fool, Chad stomped up the platform steps. After the way he’d ignored basic social graces, he wouldn’t blame Miss Carmichael if she turned tail and ran. Of course, he knew the length of her trip...he bought the danged ticket. If only the past two weeks without his sister’s help hadn’t worn him down. Glancing ahead, he saw how she grasped the wiry animal like the mutt was her lifeline in a sea of unknowns. Which it probably was. Her hat with a single black feather tilted to one side of her head. The closer he walked, the wider her eyes grew. Chestnut waves dangled and fell over slim shoulders. When only inches away, he noted her dark gray eyes, like heavy clouds before a storm.

  Her arched brows winged high. “Do I have a smear of dirt on me face?” Miss Carmichael brushed gloved fingers over her cheeks.

  The terrier braced its paws on her forearm and yipped twice.

  “Quiet, mutt.” He angled his body to offer his right elbow. “Just a few flecks of soot but all travelers do.”

  “Ach.” Miss Carmichael rubbed her cheeks against her shoulders before glancing at the wicker basket at her feet then back again.

  “You latch on, and I’ll grab the basket.” After stooping for the dog’s basket, he straightened and realized his intended’s head barely reached the crest of his shoulder. Several inches shorter than Fayth. Could someone so petite manage the household, his kids, and help with the basic chores? She’d have to learn because he had no other option. At the steps, he switched the basket to his right hand then settled his freed hand above the bubble of cloth at her lower back. Did she just press back against his hand and sigh? “Careful of the puddles at the bottom.”

  Miss Carmichael stopped on the last step, wrinkling her nose. “Please, might I have the basket? I canna carry Biscuit and manage my skirts at the same time.”

  Chad shuffled his hold then opened the flap on the basket. Once the creature was contained, he stepped to the wagon and set the basket inside. He glanced at his children and smiled at seeing them sitting quietly. Then he returned to escort her to the wagon front and, with hands almost spanning her waist, he lifted her into the seat. The woman weighed no more than a hundred-pound sack of grain. He walked around the team to climb into the driver’s seat, fighting the dread gnawing at his gut. “Hup, Lady. Get on, Princess.” He snapped the reins and guided the team into a wide circle on Main Street toward the north end of town.

  Since he was almost never in Gunnison City at this time of day, he had no idea where to go for food. The Palisade Hotel with its forty rooms and full-service restaurant would be too expensive—not that he’d say those words aloud. Mountain High Café would take too long. The scent of fresh bread tantalized his nose. Perfect. “We’ll stop at the Vienna Bakery before heading to the Congregational Church.”

  “I attended a similar church in Lincoln. ’Tis glad I am to see one here.” She glanced over her shoulder and smiled. “The question is one I should have asked in me letter.”

  Not wanting to discuss a place he had no use for any longer, he cleared his throat. “Plenty of time to pose questions, now that you’re here.”

  “True.” She leaned forward and looked all around.

  At the corner of Tomichi Avenue, he steered the team left for a block to Wisconsin Street so he could make two right turns to reach the bakery. Although the hour was early on this Monday, plenty of pedestrians vied for space along the boardwalks and in the muddy streets. Being around this many people always made his skin itch, and he squinted against the bright sun for any children dashing into his path. Finally, opposite the Pearl Laundry, he pulled the team to a stop.

  “We’re stopping here?” Miss Carmichael frowned.

  “Our destination’s only twenty feet or so ahead, and this spot is the closest I can find.” He set the brake then tied off the reins before hoisting his left leg over the wagon side.

  “But me belongings…we canna see them from the bakery. And I couldna leave Biscuit this far away.” Shaking her head, she clasped the strings of her reticule and bit her lower lip.

  Chad blew out a breath and settled onto the seat again. Chores waited at the ranch. Breakfast dishes remained on the table. He couldn’t expect Benat, the shepherd who watched the sheep at night, to wait all day to be relieved. Leaning a hand on his thigh, he twisted to meet her gaze. “Miss, I don’t think you realize how a trip to town impacts my workday.” The moment he saw her spine lengthen like a late-summer sunflower, he knew he’d said the wrong thing.

  “Sir, this trip to yer town impacted me entire life.” Sunlight flashed on her watery eyes. “Canna we please wait for the owners to collect the horses ahead so the wagon might roll closer?”

  “Sorry, but no.” He hopped out of the wagon and rounded the front of the team. “We need to get you something to eat so we can drive to the church.” He stood on the boardwalk, hands on hips. Impatience ran through his blood, but he fought to tamp it down.

  Eyes wide, she twisted on the bench to look over her shoulder and then back at the bakery. “Am I the only one eating? I thought—”

  “Miss Carmichael, we rose at dawn and ate hours ago.” The snap in his voice couldn’t be helped. Why had he thought this woman knew anything about ranch life? “I’ll buy something and be right back.” Without waiting for an answer, he strode to the third business down and wrenched open the door to the Vienna Bakery. Sweet, yeasty scents filled the air. He looked around and spotted two small tables where they might have sat. Regret at failing to meet his future wife’s first request dragged his footsteps across the floor.

  “Morning, sir.” A plump, gray-haired woman smiled from behind the counter. “What would you like?”

  Under the guise of looking over the selections in the display case, Chad took a moment to calm his breathing. Today was not playing out as anticipated, and that disturbance ate at his patience. “Two loaves of bread and a half-dozen of those rolls.” He pointed toward a metal tray holding small rolls with shiny tops and crisscross marks.

  “Ah, the brotchen. Good choice, sir. Very tasty with a bit of jam and a cup of strong coffee.” She slipped the loaves and rolls into a small cloth bag and set it on the counter. “Seventy-five cents, please.”

  Chad dug into his pants pocket for his wallet and pulled out a dollar bill. He thought of his children sitting outside in the wagon with a stranger and how they must feel. Again scanning the selections, he pointed toward mounded cookies with cracked tops. “How many of those for the remaining quarter?”

  The woman smiled, and her eyes almost disappeared when her cheeks plumped. “Pfeffernuese cookies are my favorite.” She bent down and scooped two handfuls into the bag. “Enjoy.”

  “Thank you, ma’am.” Chad turned and stood to the side as a family streamed inside. By the time he reached the sidewalk and turned left, he saw no one waiting in the wagon. Where are my children? Jogging the twenty feet, he dropped the bag on the bench and then made a slow circle, looking for his children and the difficult woman. Did she get a notion to see the town? Or cross the street and visit the dry goods store? He raised cupped
hands to his mouth, readying to shout.

  “Daddy!”

  Hearing Guinie’s voice, Chad whirled and spotted Miss Carmichael leading his children from the alley beside the laundry. Relief loosened the knot in his chest. “There you are.”

  The mutt’s basket bumped against Vika’s legs as she jogged right and left to step on high spots in the muddy alley. A blush colored her cheeks. At the back of the wagon, she stopped to set down the basket before lifting the children. Then she grabbed the front of her skirts and stomped the wagon’s length to where the team stood. “Mister Rutherford.”

  “Yes?” He did not like the look of her scowl.

  She took another step closer. “I, we, needed to use the privy.” Her eyes narrowed. “Aren’t ye thinking your daughter is too old to still be in nappies?”

  Thankfully, she kept her tone low. But who was she to be critical about how he raised his children? “Look, Miss Carmichael. Can we please get through the ceremony and be on our way? The ride will take close to an hour. You can ask all the questions you want during the drive.” He slipped an arm around her waist and guided her toward the wagon front then hoisted her into the driver’s box. Ten minutes more, if he was lucky, and he’d be on his way out of town. “Your food is in the bag there.”

  The trip to the church lasted only five minutes. He broke a brotchen for Lance and Guinie to share, and he downed another in three bites. Any excuse not to continue the conversation Miss Carmichael started. He suspected Guinie was old for not using the privy every time, but soft-hearted Caroline urged him not to press the issue. And he accepted the easy way.

  Moments later, he hurried the children up several stone steps. At the church’s double doors, he glanced over his shoulder to see his intended struggling to hold the wicker basket and her skirts as she followed. That danged mutt. Unable to figure how he could help, he pulled on the ornate metal handle and held the door for her to pass. Being at this spot for this purpose felt so wrong. Long into last night, he’d worried that marrying again was an act of betrayal toward Fayth. But here they were, and all he could do was march forward.

  Once inside, he looked around for the officiant. “Reverend Weatherwax, we’re finally here.”

  “Welcome, Mister Rutherford.

  Chad spotted the thin man with wavy brown hair currying down the aisle, his clerical robe waving around his trouser-clad legs.

  “Children, good to see you.” Then the reverend turned to the new arrival and extended a hand. “Charles Weatherwax, miss.

  “Begging yer pardon, reverend, but I canna leave my wee dog outside.” She set down the basket and shook hands. “Miss Vika Carmichael, Reverend. Glad to make yer acquaintance.”

  “How do you do? And the dog is most welcome, allowing for your arrival on today’s train.”

  Smiling, she gazed at the long pews and tall windows. “I look forward to joining yer services here.”

  She’ll do that alone. Chad bit back his impatience.

  “And welcome you’ll be.” Nodding, he rocked on his shoes from heel to toe.

  Her curved lips and flashing eyes transformed her features from pretty to beautiful. A fact that should not hitch a pain in his chest…but it did. Chad unclenched his jaw and narrowed his gaze. “The ceremony, sir?”

  “Of course.” The reverend stepped to the side to glance down the aisle. “Did you bring along witnesses?”

  “Or a wee flower?” Miss Carmichael ducked her head.

  Hearing her whispered question stabbed guilt to Chad’s conscience. Caroline admonished him not to arrive empty-handed. He meant to look for any bit of greenery that might remain in the flowerbeds before they left the house, but in the rush, he forgot. “No, my employees are back at the ranch.”

  “No matter, sir. I’ll find observers willing and able to sign the register when we’re done.”

  Chad walked the children around the perimeter of the church, answering their questions, to keep them occupied. From the corner of his eye, he noticed Miss Carmichael repairing her hairdo and brushing soot from her dress. She’d removed her green cloak and laid it aside. He hoped her trunk contained more practical garments without yards of fabric that trailed behind like a cascade of water over a rocky stream. By the time the furniture maker from a nearby shop and the reverend’s housekeeper were situated near the altar, fifteen more minutes were gone.

  After asking for their full names, Reverend Weatherwax beamed at the small gathering then opened his Bible. “Bringing a man and woman into the bonds of marriage is a holy event and approved by God. Those gathered shall bear witness as Vika Anice Carmichael and Chadwick Fitch Rutherford join together their lives through the making of solemn promises.” Leaning forward, he glanced between them. “Please clasp your right hands as a sign of relying on one another and of merging your lives.”

  Chad angled his body to face her and pulled her small, cold hand into his larger one. He glanced at the green traveling suit she wore and wondered if she’d packed a fancier dress intended for this ceremony. A silver brooch etched with two entwined hearts decorated the left side of her jacket. He didn’t remember the jewelry being there when she’d first removed her cloak.

  “The ring, sir?” The reverend extended the open Bible.

  Chad released her hand and reached into his shirt pocket. He set the gold band, etched with a simple flower, onto the open pages. He wanted to save the expense and use Fayth’s. But Caroline insisted a new ring was needed, and she consulted with the local jeweler, Mister Babin, on the design.

  The reverend held the ring over their joined hands. “A ring has no beginning and no end and is a symbol of how love exists within a marriage. The third finger on the left hand was believed by the Romans to contain a vein running straight to the heart. So, Chad, place the ring on Vika’s finger as I ask the essential question.” He nodded. “Will you, Chadwick Rutherford, have this woman, Vika Carmichael, to be your wife, to live together in holy marriage? Will you love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health, and forsaking all others, be faithful to her as long as you both shall live?”

  As Miss Carmichael gazed at the ring, she let out a sigh.

  An ache stabbed his chest at the word faithful, but he forced out the required response. “I will.”

  The reverend looked at Vika. “Repeat after me.”

  Blinking fast, she lifted her chin. “In the name of God, I, Vika Carmichael, take you, Chadwick Rutherford, to be my husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until we are parted by death. This is my solemn vow.”

  When he slipped it on, the ring wobbled on her thin finger. Between thumb and forefinger, he held the ring in place. The next response welled from his memory. “With this ring, I thee wed.”

  Reverend Weatherwax rested his palm atop their joined hands. “By the power vested in me by the State of Colorado and entrusted by God’s holy ordinance, I pronounce you man and wife. May the Lord bless and keep you. As God said to Adam and Eve, may you go forth and be fruitful.” He smiled and tipped his head forward. “If you’re of a mind to, this is the time for the marriage kiss.”

  Chad’s mouth dried. He wasn’t ready for this intimate gesture but knew Vika had a right to expect a kiss. Bracing his hands on her shoulders, he bent his head, getting a faint whiff of a tangy lemon scent, and leaned farther down. Intending only a quick peck, he brushed his lips over her pursed mouth. Her inexperience was on display with the offering of clamped lips. Something about the innocence, or the fact he touched a woman’s soft mouth for the first time in so long, caused him to linger. He sipped at her lips, forcing her to relax them to a natural state. His pulse kicked faster. Then her lips moved under his, and he had to return for another taste. Time lost all meaning.

  Chapter Five

  Shaky on her feet, Vika stared into her groom’s eyes that burned smoky black. Blood pounded in her ears, and she half-expected to hear
a rousing cheer from the gathering. Then she reminded herself the setting was no’ a Scots ceremony. A glance at the wooden aisle between the pews bare of flower petals witnessed the truth—she’d taken her marriage vows among strangers.

  The next few minutes of accepting congratulations then thanking the witnesses and getting the children into their coats passed in a blur. She helped, but her movements only copied what her husband started. Exiting the church brought a blast of cold air, and she shivered, glancing around. A chill wind cut right through her clothing layers. Gray clouds hung low in the sky.

  At the wagon, she set down the basket, pulled on her gloves, then lifted out her dog and cuddled her close. The poor wee thing had never been so long confined as in the past two days. From the corner of her eye, as she lowered Biscuit near the boardwalk, she saw Mister…Chad put a fresh nappie on Guinie, along with a set of knitted short pants. Then he stowed the wet ones in a burlap bag. After stepping to the closest horse trough to dip in the corner of a towel, he wiped his hands. She noted the details because she’d soon be expected to perform the task. But no’ for long. Within a week’s time, she intended to have the little girl using the chamber pot. She’d housebroken Biscuit in only a few days, so how hard could the task be?

  “Thank you, Lance and Guinie, for being quiet while the adults talked.” Chad held out the sack from the bakery and let each child select a cookie. “Ready for the ride home?”

  Both children nodded, chewing.

  Then he unfolded and settled a wool blanket of navy bordered with a light yellow stripe over the children.

  The tender way he adjusted the blanket across their little chests then patted a shoulder or stroked a cheek showed his love. Vika swallowed hard against the lump in her throat. The caring gestures were small ones, but since Birk’s death, she’d missed being touched—from being escorted down the street to an occasional jab in the side when her brother made a joke. Being escorted down the train platform steps provided her with the first sense of security in so long.