by Kari Trumbo
A Carol Plays
A Cutter’s Creek Christmas
Novella
Kari Trumbo
© 2016 Kari Trumbo
Published by Kari Trumbo, All Rights Reserved
All rights reserved. This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it to Kari Trumbo and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Scripture quotations are from the King James Version of the Bible
Author’s note: This is a work of fiction. All locations, characters, names, and actions are a product of the author’s overactive imagination. Any resemblance, however subtle, to living persons or actual places and events are coincidental.
Cover Art: www.agapeauthors.com
Editing: Becky Trumbo
Table of 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
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Cutter’s Creek, Montana, 1892
Chapter One
Carol rushed down the large stairway and grasped the railing at the end, swinging herself on the banister to face the window, its bottom covered in a sheen of frozen crystals. The snow flew in a constant white sheet; its mesmerizing fury drew her in. She strode in measured steps to the large picture window in the parlor huffing her breath against the glass pane then clearing it with her sleeve. The soot from the woodstove left streaks marring her vision. She wiped harder and peered out into the gale. Great drifts lay all down the side street where she lived, and if this storm was like those they’d had in the past, the main street of Cutter’s Creek would be buried under feet of it.
Her shoulders slumped. The annual Christmas sugar plum festival and skate might have to be cancelled if they couldn’t get down to the river, but that was yet two weeks away. Surely they could get the town shoveled by then.
A great hulking shadow lurched from the corner of the train station carrying a large box. It lumbered down the street toward her house. He moved slowly, pulling his leg all the way out of the snow drift before shoving it down in front of him to repeat the process with his other leg. He lurched, wobbled and disappeared into a snow bank, falling on his backside. The great box he carried flew behind him in a wide arc and landed in a puff of snow, sticking out of the snow bank tilting up at an absurd angle.
Carol stifled a giggle as she wiped her hand on her apron and frowned at her soiled sleeve. Someone obviously wasn’t used to this much snow. However, according to her Aunt Carney, no place could get a person as used to snow as Montana. She lifted her skirts and knelt on the bench seat of the window, craning her neck to see if the man, or whatever it was, emerged from the bank. Heavens, if she was the only one who saw him go down, would she have to go out in the storm to get him?
She held her breath as first a large fuzzy head and then body appeared. From this far away, if he didn’t have such human movements, she would have thought he was a bear with how furry he was. He hefted his large trunk onto his shoulder and held his other arm out for balance. You can do it, don’t slip now. She nodded and cheered him on with each successful step.
He passed the doors of all her neighbors, finally stopping in front of her house; the last house on the street. Turning slightly. he peered back down the way then at her in the window. Only his eyes were visible through all his trappings and she wondered just how big he was or if his great bulk was all coat. She stepped back, feeling exposed in the window.
The man turned toward her and slowly made his way to her front door. She rushed over the few steps to meet him then stopped with her hand on the handle. She’d have to wait for his knock, no matter her curiosity about the visitor in this weather—and unexpected at that. Her father, Carlton Williams, was asleep in his room in the back of the house. If not for the blinding snow, she would never open the door to a strange man, but she couldn’t very well leave him out there to freeze. Above the door, she eyed the rifle her father kept there. She shook her head. Even if she could reach it; he’d never taught her how to use it.
A sharp rap on the door made her gasp and peer down the hall toward her father’s room. Even if he’d heard, it would take him a long time to make it to the front of the house. She swung the door open and a gust of wind and driving flakes hit her face. If that hadn’t frozen her the hulking man standing in her doorway would have. He filled the doorway, blocking most of the snow…and her escape.
Snow clung to his boots and pasted his pants to his knees. The hem of his greatcoat fell at his thigh and flakes clung to the hair of the moleskin. Atop his broad shoulders, a wool muff covered all but the slightest patch of skin by his eyes, which were too dark to see with the backdrop of the bright snow. A coonskin cap clung to his head.
“Well, get in here before you let all the heat outdoors!” She shrank back to give him room.
Her father limped down the hallway behind her, the thump of his good leg and slide of his bad one making his steps slow and measured. He made his way to the room and waited as the man shook snow off himself and lowered his trunk to the floor.
Carlton cleared his throat. “You Manning?”
The form looked up and peeled off his hat tossing it on the trunk, then unwound his long wool muffler from his face and neck. His hair was well trimmed, and his face lean and handsome with only the slightest hint of shadow on his angled jaw.
The man nodded and expelled a long breath. “Yes, sir.” He reached his hand out and shook Carlton’s. “Sorry for the delay. Snow’s three feet deep out there if it’s an inch.”
A smile played at one corner of Carlton’s lips, and he nodded once. “Yup. This time of year, that’s pretty common.” He sat heavily in a chair, his stiff leg sticking out to the side. His face pinched at the eyes and lips as he settled himself better in the chair.
Carol crossed her arms in front of her. They were living well enough on the money her father had made before the stiffness in his leg had taken away his ability to load heavy carts. Her brother, Josiah, had taken over after that, and he’d been doing quite well. He’d recently moved to his new house with his new bride, and now her father did nothing with the family business at all.
“Care to tell me who you are and why you’re here?” She narrowed her eyes at him crossing her arms over her chest and tapping her foot. Controlling her impatience had never been a strength she’d cultivated.
He shrugged out of his greatcoat and handed it to her with one arm and a smile that made her knees feel as if she’d been standing too long. She pointed to the coat tree by the door. He would not make her get her dress all wet carrying that thing and tip-toeing to hang it up when he was perfectly capable of doing it on his own. She’d disabuse him of the notion that she wanted him there immediately. He chuckled and strode back to the tree, hanging his coat next to her father’s by the door.
He turned toward her, and her eyes widened. His eyes were both green and blue, like a painting she’d seen once of the ocean. She took a step toward him then realized what she’d done and closed her eyes, turning away. Get a hold of yourself, Carol. You know the men here in Cutter’s Creek. This man is
a stranger.
He reached out his hand to her, and Carol glanced at it with suspicion then placed hers into it. He pulled it to him and leaned down as he brushed his lips over her knuckles, his eyes never left hers. Those eyes tossed her emotions around like a leaf in a stream.
“Forgive me, Miss Williams. I assumed your father had told you who I was. My name is Dr. Manning Gentry, from Boston. I’m pleased to meet you.”
The lilting accent of his words did strange things to her thoughts. She tugged her hand from his and tried to rein in her traitorous feelings.
“He did not. So what, pray tell, are you here for, Dr. Gentry?”
Chapter Two
“Carol! Mind yourself!” Her father bellowed from his chair, his ears tinged in red. “I invited the doctor here after reading about him in the paper and the work he and his professor are doing.” He held up both hands to stop her argument. “Before you get all worried about how much I’m spending, the answer is nothing but a train ticket. Dr. Gentry agreed to come out here to check out my bum leg and see if it’s what he’s been studying.”
She glared at the doctor as she listened to her father. Staring wasn’t good manners, but she couldn’t help it any more than she could help breathing.
“And just where will he be staying?” Her eyebrows rose, and Manning’s lifted to match.
Carlton shook his head and sighed. “He’ll sleep down here in Mable’s old quarters, at least until we find a replacement for her. Then he’ll move to Josiah’s old room.”
Mable had been their maid for many years but had recently felt she was too old to continue. Her retirement left Carol to take care of them both, a job she struggled to master along with everything else becoming the woman of the house seemed to entail.
“I haven’t prepared. This is simply unacceptable.”
Her father pointed at the window. “Take a gander outside. We can’t send him back out in this. You’ll hold your tongue, young lady.”
Carol broke her eye contact with the doctor, turning on her heel to avoid further confrontation. Her movements felt stiff and controlled as she strode to the window her face hot in the cold alcove.
The snow collected in every nook and cranny and made all but the houses appear flat. The homes themselves appeared short, some little more than domes in the snow. This interloper had come into her home and had gotten her all flustered. How would she find any peace with him and those eyes living right under her roof?
“How long do you intend to stay, Dr. Gentry?” she asked without turning from the window.
He moved a few feet behind her and caught her reflection in the glass. As much as she wanted to look away, those eyes held sway over her.
“Well, Miss Williams, that depends on your father and the care he needs. If cooking a few meals for me is a bother, I’m sure I can make my own.”
Carol heard her father huff and sputter behind her and closed her eyes. If he was going to turn her father against her, well, two could play at that game.
Regarding him carefully in the window glass, she spoke softly enough for only him to hear. “I will make your meals, Dr. Gentry, and don’t you ever forget no one wants Father healed more than I do.”
She turned from the window to see shock spread over his face. She enjoyed it as she left her father and his new doctor to go back to the kitchen. What she’d planned for dinner was no longer an option.
* * *
Manning watched the enigmatic young woman sway pleasantly away to the back of the house. He’d assumed when the request for his help had come he would be staying in a small hovel. He’d not expected Montana to be so hospitable, weather aside.
The view here was much better anyway with her dark hair and eyes that flashed like lightening. The next few weeks could prove much more interesting than he’d thought while corresponding with her father. The only drawback, of course, was the season. He’d be away from home over Christmas yet again. His family had invited him home for the first time in three years. The first two has been spent studying, and he’d been working in research and unable to get away the third year. His mother had wanted him to come home, but Professor Flock had insisted he take this assignment instead. If Carlton had what he and Dr. Flock suspected, he might not be around in the spring to study. His focus was on the portion of Polio patients whose lung function slowly deteriorated until they died. As much as he wished he could help, if Carlton was as sick as he expected, he might not be able to do much but watch him deteriorate.
Manning turned and clapped his hands together, unable to keep the nervousness from his laugh. “Well. I didn’t expect that type of reception.”
The old man leaned forward and lifted his leg to readjust it. “My daughter has been hunting a husband for the last year, heaven only knows why. If I would have warned her you were on your way, I’d have had no peace for the last two months. I’m sorry about the train. I was a mite worried when you suggested coming out here so late in the year, but I didn’t want to wait any longer, either.”
Manning took in the front parlor. “I’ll have to watch myself around her then. I have no intention to take a wife back to Boston when I return.” He flashed a smile to lighten Carlton’s mood, but the scowl he threw back was enough to make Manning take a step back.
Carlton squared his shoulders and narrowed his eyes. “See that you do. My daughter is not moving away from me, and I wouldn’t give my blessing to you, anyway. I spent far too many nights away from her mother. So many, I didn’t notice when she got sick. I didn’t realize until it was too late.” Carlton shifted his gaze to the floor, his old tired grey eyes barely keeping his pain in check. “My wife died alone, and my son had to care for his sister until I got back days later. No, I won’t ever give my blessing to someone who’ll be gone or busy more than they’ll be at home.”
Manning kept a huff to himself. It was one thing to decide for a man to decide he wasn’t interested; it was another matter to be told he wasn’t good enough. He scowled down at his trunk forming a puddle on the rug and mumbled, “You have nothing to worry about, sir.” He hefted the wooden box. “Where should I take this?”
Carlton pointed down the hall where Carol had just disappeared. “Three doors down, on the right. Since I couldn’t tell Carol you were coming, it won’t be scrubbed, but all the furniture was covered and that should have kept the dust away.”
He maneuvered his way down the narrow hall and stopped in front of his door. The sound of a woman singing a hymn came from further down the hall. He pushed open his door and set his trunk inside then went in search of the voice.
He moved along the hallway slowly to avoid creaking floorboards and alerting whomever it was. He’d thought they didn’t have help if Miss Williams had been so worried about the additional work to have him here, but who else would be singing in the kitchen? Her voice reminded him a little of his mother’s own voice when she’d been young and sung him to sleep as a child.
He waited outside the doorway just out of site in the hall. It had to be Carol. Hadn’t Carlton said in his letters he was alone but for his daughter? He searched through his memory as the song wrapped around his soul.
The voice stopped and she gasped, bringing him out of his thoughts. He opened his eyes and frowned. His shadow stretched across her doorway. He’d gotten too close to the door. She’d known he’d stood there, but not how long.
Feeling a fool, he turned and rushed back to his room, closing the door behind him. Her siren song wouldn’t call him again. He had to focus. He was here to help Carlton, not to get tangled with his daughter…as pleasant as that might be.
The trunk lay before him and he kicked it further into the room. He rubbed his shoulder where it had rested before and let his gaze roam around the room he’d stay in for the next few weeks. The bed seemed comfortable enough, next to it was a chest of drawers, and an upright where he could hang his suits. He never wore anything but a suit in public because of his profession. Without meaning to, his traitorous mind finis
hed the thought. It’s all right. Carol dresses in gowns that don’t fit Montana. You both would match well together.
Manning scratched his forehead, chaffed from the furry hat he’d been wearing. He’d met women a-plenty in Boston and many had thrown themselves at him. They’d doted on his appearance and the income he’d have once established as a preeminent physician in his field. Carol’s unwillingness to bend to his charm—especially after what her father had said about her desire to marry, and his insistence he stay away—had to be the attraction he felt. It was natural and normal to want what you couldn’t have, that was all there was to it. It could be nothing more after such a brief introduction. He thought of those dark eyes with yellow flecks reminding him of lightning. She certainly was a firecracker.
Chapter Three
Carol set the table and placed the food on the sideboard to stay warm. She wiped her hands on her apron and glanced over her shoulder down the hallway. How many times she’d looked she couldn’t remember. Someone had stood outside the kitchen listening to her, and it had set her mind to racing about why Dr. Gentry would do such a thing. It couldn’t have been her father, his movements within the house were easily heard, and her brother had not been home since his wedding, nor would he run away.
The stairs were just inside the parlor a few feet away from the dining room and her room just at the top of them. Father had scolded her on more than one occasion about changing her dress before the evening meal. He felt she took too much time and didn’t realize she got just as smoky and sooty working over the kitchen stove as he used to over a campfire while on a delivery. She couldn’t bear to eat without cleaning up. Every part of her felt dirty. She glanced around her, listening for the telltale sound of her father. The silence of the house encouraged her to go. Father certainly wouldn’t want her to entertain their guest in a soiled day dress, would he? She took one last glance around and rushed up the stairs before anyone could stop her.
