INTRODUCTION
To Hear Angels Sing by Ramona Cecil
For Bridget O’Keefe, there is no going back. Leaving behind the familiar comforts of her Chicago classroom, Bridget travels to Pinewood, Texas, in the autumn of 1883 to teach and minister to Indian orphans. Seth Krueger can’t forgive the Comanche who orphaned him—or God, whom he feels allowed it to happen. For Bridget and Seth to reconcile their differences and ride off together into the sunset will require a miracle—a Christmas miracle.
The Face Of Mary by Darlene Franklin
Five years ago, Joseph “Joey” Carpenter told Mary “Polly” Jessup that he would marry her when she grew up. She treasures his words in her heart, but he forgets her and instead returns home with a law degree—and a girlfriend, the banker’s daughter. When the bank prosecutes Polly’s absentminded father for taking the bank’s money, she turns to Joey for help. Will Joey recognize the face of his true love in time for Christmas?
The Christmas Chain by Janelle Mowery
Emma Pickett never dreamed her quest for vengeance would lead her into the arms of a man who could cause her to falter in her purpose. Suddenly, forgiving and forgetting sounds sweeter than revenge—until she learns his father is the murderer she seeks. Torn between vengeance and compassion, Emma must face a chain of decisions that will forever change her life and the lives of all those around her.
Love Came Home at Christmas by Tamela Hancock Murray
Gabriella Noell is on a mission—to find her grandfather and reunite her family. The last thing on her mind is romance. Finding an itinerant wood-carver is the last thing R.C. wants to do, especially in the company of his spoiled sister and her friend, who are certain to do nothing but impede his business of acquiring real estate. But a God full of surprises plans a wonderful journey for them—if only they will open their hearts.
©2010 To Hear Angels Sing by Ramona Cecil
©2010 The Face of Mary by Darlene Franklin
©2010 The Christmas Chain by Janelle Mowery
©2010 Love Came Home at Christmas by Tamela Hancock Murray
Print ISBN 978-1-60260-970-9
eBook Editions:
Adobe Digital Edition (.epub) 978-1-60742-892-3
Kindle and MobiPocket Edition (.prc) 978-1-60742-893-0
All scripture quotations are taken from the King James Version of the Bible.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission of the publisher.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual people, organizations, and/or events is purely coincidental.
Cover design: Kirk DouPonce, DogEared Design
Published by Barbour Publishing, Inc., P.O. Box 719, Uhrichsville, OH 44683, www.barbourbooks.com
Our mission is to publish and distribute inspirational products offering exceptional value and biblical encouragement to the masses.
Printed in the United States of America.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
To Hear Angels sing by Ramona Cecil
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
The Face of Mary by Darlene Franklin
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
The Christmas Chain by Janelle Mowery
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Love Came Home at Christmas by Tamela Hancock Murray
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
TO HEAR ANGELS SING
by Ramona Cecil
Dedication
To my beloved Texans, both transplanted and Texas born; Jennifer, Galen, Matthew, Gabriella, and Emily.
Chapter 1
Suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.
LUKE 2:13–14
Pinewood, Texas, October 1883
Seth Krueger sat up straighter at the train whistle’s shrill blast. From his seat on the bench in front of the Pinewood train station, he narrowed his eyes toward the bend in the tracks.
“I have better things to do than to fetch some schoolmarm,” he grumbled beneath his breath.
The next moment, the train chugged into view, its earsplitting whistle filling the air. With a loud hiss of rolling steam, the locomotive came to a stop.
Breathing a sigh of resignation, he stood to get a better view of the disembarking passengers. A stream of people flowed down the lowered iron steps. Every female appeared to be either attached to other passengers or hurrying to embrace loved ones waiting on the platform.
Seth yanked off his hat and ran his fingers through his hair. He scanned the milling crowd in an attempt to identify and cut out of the herd the woman Violet Barton had sent him to fetch.
A green velvet hat atop a tumble of bright, copper-colored curls caught his eye. The woman reminded him of the porcelain doll he’d seen in the general store’s front window. Dressed in a traveling dress and cape that matched her hat, she struggled to maneuver a trunk half her size down the steps. She seemed alone and glanced around as if lost.
Though the woman didn’t fit Seth’s notion of a spinster schoolteacher, he ambled toward her. At the bottom step, a heavyset man puffed past her, bumping against the girl so hard she almost toppled. Seth watched her chin quiver and hastened his steps.
Once on the platform, she lifted her face. The most beautiful, big green eyes he’d ever seen met his, and Seth’s heart bucked.
He reached up to drag his hat from his head, then realized he had it in his hand. “Miss O’Keefe?” he finally managed, unable to wrest his gaze from her glistening eyes.
“Y–yes,” she hesitated, taking a half step backward.
“I’m Seth—Seth Krueger. Mrs. B.—that is, Mrs. Barton, Mrs. Violet Barton—sent me to fetch you.” Seth called himself every kind of imbecile for tangling his words like a six-year-old with a lariat.
“But where’s Sally and Van Taylor? I thought they would …”
Lord, don’t let her cry.
Half shocked at the prayer spilling from his desperate heart, Seth cleared his throat. “Reckon you’ll have to take that up with Mrs. B. Just supposed to fetch you, that’s all.” He grasped the leather handles of her trunk and forced himself to look away from her lovely features that were threatening to crumple.
“Sally told me what a wonderful woman Mrs. Barton is, sponsoring our ministry.”
Seth’s heart lifted with the timbre of the girl’s voice, and he smiled. “Yes. Yes, she is.”
She rewarded his reply with a smile that melted his heart like butter beneath the Texas sun.
Lifting her to the wagon seat took no more effort than lift
ing a newborn calf. In the easy motion, an intoxicating scent of lavender caressed his nostrils. His hands ached with regret as they relinquished her tiny waist.
“Is the orphanage far?” The false cheerfulness in her voice could not mask the fear that rendered it breathless.
Seth’s heart constricted and he gentled his answer. “No, not far, but we’ll be goin’ to the Circle B.”
“But Sally said we would all be staying at the orphanage—”
“Hope you won’t mind, but I need to stop at the general store and pick up a couple bales of barbed wire.” What he really needed was to steer her away from asking any more questions—especially now that his mind had plain stopped working.
Don’t be an addlepated fool. All right, so she’s a right pretty girl. Not like you ain’t never seen a pretty girl before.
After riding a short distance, Seth pulled hard on the reins and brought the wagon to a halt in front of the general store.
“What—what is that?” The girl dug a snowy white handkerchief from her black beaded reticule and pressed the cloth over her nose and mouth.
He followed her gaze to the wagon that had pulled up next to them. “Hides. Deer and elk, mostly. Probably some alligator hides from the swamps in the piney woods, and maybe even a buffalo hide or two. Reckon they are a mite ripe.”
Although unpleasant, the smell was just one of many distasteful odors Seth had learned to tolerate. But the delicate creature beside him appeared overcome by the stench.
Even worse, One-Eyed Jake, the buffalo skinner, leered at her with his good eye as he climbed down from his wagon.
“Reckon maybe it would be best if you came in with me,” Seth mumbled.
She answered with an emphatic nod and pressed the handkerchief harder against her face.
He guided her inside the dark, dusty building.
The moment they stepped inside, Jake entered behind them. In what appeared to be an intentional move, the skinner brushed against the pretty newcomer.
Miss O’Keefe shrank from the foul-smelling man and moved closer to Seth. Her nearness sent a pleasant warmth flooding through him and set his heart pounding like an Indian war drum.
“I suggest you watch where you’re goin’, Jake.” Seth kept his voice low but glared a threat at the man, whose lecherous gaze slid down the young woman’s form.
“Beggin’ yer pardon, miss. Didn’t mean no harm.” Jake displayed a yellow-toothed grin and lifted a greasy black felt hat from his sweaty, balding pate.
Jake pushed past them, and Miss O’Keefe’s hat shook as if she were shuddering. Perhaps bringing the woman into the store had not been the best idea.
Remorse struck Seth like a punch in the gut. He wished Jake Tuley was the worst the schoolmarm would face today.
Bridget’s bottom felt bruised as they bounced along on the wagon that wound through mile after mile of tall grass and groves of pine trees.
Lord, help me. What have I done?
Her heart shook with trepidation. Only weeks ago, the calling had seemed so clear. She should follow her friends Van and Sally Taylor and take the gospel to the Indian orphanage Violet Barton and the Women’s Missionary Union established near Pinewood, Texas. But now she doubted the wisdom of leaving her safe, familiar teaching job in Chicago.
Her unsteady fingers found the gold cross pendant hanging at her throat. She caressed it, wishing her mother could send strength and reassurance to her from heaven.
Despite the warm Texas sun, she shivered. Surely, the horrible-smelling, filthy man with the eye patch would visit her in nightmares. Only now, out here in the open country, did she feel safe enough to mention the subject.
“Are there many like him?” She tilted her head toward the man beside her who guided the team of horses through yet another grove of pines.
“Many like who?” Seth Krueger glanced across his right shoulder at her.
“Men like that—that man in the store.” Fear gripped her again. She tried to hide it by uselessly brushing at the pine needles the stiff breeze kept depositing in her lap.
“One-Eyed Jake?” Somehow she found the man’s smile comforting. “Naw, Jake’s pretty much one of a kind. He’s an old buffalo hunter from up around the Red River and Wichita Falls. Him and others hunted out the buffalo to deprive the savages of ‘em. But with most all the buffalo gone now, and the savages corralled up at Fort Sill, Jake came down here to harvest sundry hides from the piney woods.” He gave her a sidelong grin. “Jake brings the hides to Pinewood to ship out on the railroad.”
The man’s disparaging term for the Indians raised Bridget’s righteous ire. “Savages? Is that what you think of the Indians? They are God’s children, too, made in His image as surely as you and I.” He gave a sarcastic snort and she bristled. Stiffening, she glared at him. “I feel privileged that God has led me on this mission to bring some of the young ones to Christ.”
“Well, I couldn’t tell you what God looks like, but I’m right certain it ain’t no murderin’, red-skinned heathen,” he drawled with a chuckle. “If you ask me, this whole scheme of Mrs. B.’s is folly. Tryin’ to save the redskins’ souls.” He snorted again. “Way I see it, you can’t save somethin’ that don’t exist.”
While Bridget tried to think of a scathing retort, the man nodded.
“Well, here we are—the Circle B.” His announcement drove all other thoughts from Bridget’s mind.
Two tall poles flanked the gently curving road with a swinging sign suspended between them. Into the sign was burned a capital B nestled in the center of a circle.
Bridget could see why Seth Krueger’s voice swelled with pride. A short distance away, an imposing two-story log house crowned a knoll wreathed by stately pines.
They came to a stop in front of the house, and apprehension gripped Bridget’s stomach like a cold fist. The man climbed down from the wagon, then came around and helped her to the ground. Her legs wobbled up the porch steps, and she thanked the Lord for the man’s strong arm supporting her. She would feel better as soon as she saw Sally and Van again. Her heart pounded with happy anticipation of their warm reunion.
Inside, he led her along a narrow entranceway that opened on the right to a large, bright space. The room, dominated by a gigantic fireplace made from smooth gray stones, exuded an atmosphere of rustic elegance.
A middle-aged woman dressed in black rose from a maroon velvet chair near the fireplace. She wore her salt-and-pepper hair parted down the middle of her head and pulled severely back in a bun. A sad smile graced her kind face.
“My dear Miss O’Keefe.” She walked toward Bridget with one hand outstretched. With her other hand, she dabbed a lace handkerchief at her tear-filled blue eyes.
A sense of foreboding filled Bridget. “Where are the Taylors? Where are Sally and Van?”
“My dear girl. I’m so sorry.” The woman’s warm fingers curled gently around Bridget’s trembling hand. “They are gone. The Lord has taken them.”
Chapter 2
The large log room beyond Violet Barton’s distraught face swirled around Bridget. What the woman had just told Bridget was impossible.
It has to be impossible.
As Bridget’s legs buckled beneath her, Seth Krueger reached an arm around her waist, preventing her from collapsing to the knotty pine floor. He helped her to the horsehair sofa.
“Oh, I was afraid of this.” The woman fretted, anxiously rubbing Bridget’s hands. “Seth, go to the kitchen and tell Sadie you need to fetch a glass of cool water for Miss O’Keefe.”
Seth seemed reluctant to leave but finally released his firm grip on Bridget’s waist.
Bridget was vaguely aware of Violet Barton rubbing her hand and whispering unintelligible laments.
The next moment, she felt the warm strength of Seth’s arm supporting her shoulders and helping her to sit up. He held a glass of water to her lips. When the cool liquid hit her shock-constricted throat, she coughed.
“Slow,” he whispered, “real slo
w now.”
His warm breath fanned her cheek. She gazed into his pale blue eyes. In her excitement and apprehension, she hadn’t noticed until now what an exceptionally handsome man he was. He looked to be only a few years older than she. Blond hair, bleached nearly white by the hot Texas sun, framed his tanned, boyish face. He carried the scent of leather and a faint whiff of smells that reminded her of the Chicago stockyards. Altogether, not unpleasant aromas.
“You don’t know how sorry I am that you had to learn this way.” Violet Barton’s voice sagged with regret. “When it happened, we’d already received your telegraph saying you’d left Chicago.”
“How?” Bridget managed to rasp.
“Last Saturday they were on their way to Pinewood for supplies. We think something spooked their horses. We don’t really know.” Violet shook her head as if still struggling with her own disbelief. “Seth and my husband, Andrew, found the wagon at the bottom of a gulch with the couple beneath it.” She stifled a strangled sob and dabbed at her eyes again with the handkerchief.
“Do you think they suffered?” Bridget couldn’t bear the thought. She’d grown close to the young, enthusiastic missionary couple who had attended her church in Chicago.
Seth shook his head. “I’m sure it was quick.” His kind blue gaze met hers squarely and she believed him. The thought soothed her.
The next moment the broader realization struck, and panic seized her. She now faced an altered future. Would she live at the orphanage and try to do alone the jobs the three of them had planned?
“You will be staying here at the ranch of course,” Violet Barton said, as if reading her mind. She turned to Seth Krueger. “Seth, please take Miss O’Keefe’s portmanteau up to the yellow room.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Bridget’s mind raced blindly through a fog of uncertainty, grief, and confusion. What would become of her now? Someone else had her teaching job in Chicago. There was no going back.
“Violet told me what you did … for Van and Sally. Thank you.” Bridget glanced at Seth as they bounced along on the buckboard. Though Violet had urged her to rest for a few days before visiting the orphanage, Bridget was determined to make the three-mile trek the next morning.
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