A Pioneer Christmas Collection

by Kathleen Fuller

  “I don’t want you to be alone, Milly,” her father continued. “So don’t dismiss Louise’s determination in finding you a beau. She knows everyone in town, plus who they’re related to, what they do for a living, and most of all, who is suitable and who you should stay away from. For once her nosiness is useful.” He chuckled, but it came out strained. “Milly, you and I, we don’t venture past these walls very much. Mostly just to church and back, and to the general store and post office when we need to. And I’m to blame for that, relying on you being here so much.”

  “I don’t mind.”

  “I know, but that doesn’t make it right or fair. Louise, in her own way, is trying to secure a stable future for you. Believe it or not, it’s the one thing we both want.”

  “But…” She turned her back on her father, unsure if she could admit her fear out loud.

  “What is it, Daughter?”

  She spun around. “What if I don’t find love?” She stopped at the point of admitting that the man she loved had just left her forever.

  “As long as your heart is closed, you won’t.”

  She thought about his words. Could she open her heart to someone else? Right now, with Elijah so fresh in her mind, she couldn’t fathom it.

  Her father fiddled with the candle on the mantel. “Enough talk of such things. Instead, we should be celebrating.”

  Milly swallowed the knot in her throat, grateful her father changed the subject. “Right. Celebrating.”

  His lips formed a tight, wooden smile. He was trying to move on like she was. Yet this time of the year was harder than most. “Will you help me make the Christmas cake? Your aunt will be expecting it.”

  Milly glanced outside. The snow was so thick she could barely see the grove of trees across the road. “Do you think she’ll come in this weather?”

  “Have you ever known Louise to miss a Christmas here? Even if she has to strap on snowshoes, she’ll walk through that door.”

  She smiled. “True. I’ll be there in a minute.”

  Her father disappeared into the kitchen. Milly adjusted the boughs and centered the candle again. She knelt down to put another log on the fire, but she couldn’t keep her thoughts free of what her father said. Would he really sell the tavern? But what were the chances of her finding a husband who would be willing to run it? Or even more, let her be in charge? She had to figure out a way for them to keep the tavern.

  She looked around the dining room, taking in the empty tables and chairs, the long wooden counter where she prepared drinks for weary travelers. She was happy here.

  Yet her father was right. Up until Elijah’s departure this morning, she hadn’t felt lonely. But now, knowing she would never see him again, an ache appeared in her heart. One she couldn’t easily dismiss, even by focusing on Christmas preparations.

  She sat down in a chair, leaning her forehead against her hands and closing her eyes. Dear Lord, give me the wisdom to know what to do about my future. Take from me my worry about my father and the tavern, and help me leave them in Your hands. Most of all, please help me forget about Elijah Montgomery.

  A knock sounded at the front door. Her eyes flew open. Through the heavy snow whirling outside, she could make out the shape of a man standing in front of the tavern window, waving at her. She hurried to the window…and despite her sincere prayer to forget about Elijah, she couldn’t help but smile when she opened the door.

  Elijah held out his shivering hands in front of the fire. Milly put a quilt over his shoulders. He closed his eyes, letting his body soak in the warmth. Then he opened his eyes and looked at her. “Mr. Menough and I parted ways when we reached the tavern. I gave him the other horse. Has he come inside?”

  “Not yet. Father is helping him in the barn. He took out some hot coffee to help him warm up while they took care of the horses.”

  He shrugged the quilt from his shoulders. “I should be out there with them—”

  “Mr. Menough is dressed more warmly than you.” She put the quilt back on his shoulders. “He will be fine, Mr. Montgomery.”

  Were they back to formalities again? Perhaps that was best. Even though he’d been given a small respite from his trip west, he still had to leave once the storm was over and Menough fixed the stagecoach.

  She disappeared, only to reappear again with a steaming mug in her hand. “You’re still shaking. This will help relieve the chill.”

  He sat down in the chair and took the coffee from her. “Thank you.”

  “Are you getting warmer?”

  He nodded and took a sip of the coffee. “Yes. Much better.”

  “Good. You were practically frozen.” She perched on the chair opposite him. “How long did you walk in the storm?”

  He shrugged. “More than an hour. Maybe two. I didn’t realize we’d gone so far before the axle broke. I don’t think Mr. Menough realized it either.” He gazed at her again. “I’m glad to be here.”

  She looked away then stood and busied herself with the fire, even though it didn’t need tending. She took an iron poker and jabbed it into a log. “Do you need anything else?”

  “Not right now.” He leaned back in the chair. Warm and cozy now, he found it easy to let the brutal walk through the thickening snow and dipping temperatures slip from his memory. He had dressed warm enough to travel in a stagecoach but not to walk in a near blizzard.

  Cornelius and Menough came into the dining room. “Horses are settled in,” Menough said, his bulbous nose red from the cold.

  “When the snow let’s up, I’ll go with you to the livery,” Cornelius said. “The owner, Jonathan Cooper, is a friend of mine. Between the three of us, we can get that axle fixed quickly.”

  “That’s kind of you, sir,” Menough said. He glanced at Elijah. “Mr. Montgomery has been delayed long enough.”

  Elijah gripped the mug of coffee. If only Menough knew how fortuitous Elijah considered this delay. Not only would he have more time before he’d have to go on his quest, but he’d also have more time with Milly. Both prospects brought a smile to his lips.

  Cornelius gestured to Menough. “Now have a seat in front of the fire. Milly, bring the man some coffee.”

  “Yes, Father.”

  She turned toward the kitchen, but the front door of the tavern opened. A frozen wind cloaked the dining area. Louise Crosby bustled in, pushing against the door to get it shut.

  “Lands, it’s not fit for man or beast out there.” She brushed the dense snow off the shoulders of her woolen shawl.

  Cornelius put his hands on his hips. “Louise, you should have waited until the snow storm stopped.”

  Louise tilted her lips in a smile. “Worried about me, Cornelius?”

  “More worried about having to find you in this mess.”

  “Humph. I suppose it would be too much to ask for a cup of coffee or tea to warm me?”

  Milly looked at her father and smiled. “No trouble at all, Aunt Louise.”

  The door opened again. This time O’Reardon stepped inside. “Aye, what a storm. We don’t get these back in me fair Ireland.” He stomped his snow-covered boots on the mat in front of the door. “Almost got lost crossing the street,” he said, removing his cap and shaking off the snow. He looked at the widow. “Louise.”

  “O’Reardon.”

  Their greeting was colder than the air outside. Elijah suppressed a chuckle. O’Reardon should follow his own advice when it came to the heart. Anyone could see he had designs on Louise—everyone but Louise, apparently.

  Cornelius turned to Milly. “Milly—”

  “Three cups of coffee. Got it.”

  Elijah watched as she left the room. Ever since he’d known her, she’d always seemed eager to serve the tavern guests.

  “Looks like everyone will be spending the night tonight,” Cornelius said.

  O’Reardon shook his head. “I just came for a bit to eat. Then I’ll be on me way.”

  “No you won’t.” Milly’s father crossed the room and cl
apped O’Reardon on the shoulder. “I won’t have anyone going out in this storm tonight. No exceptions.”

  The Irishman nodded and sat down at a table, making sure he was as far from Louise as possible. But Elijah didn’t miss the quick glance O’Reardon gave her.

  He smiled and looked at the fire again. For the first time in a long time he was content. And he couldn’t think of a better way to spend Christmas Eve tomorrow than with the people right here in Unionville Tavern.

  Chapter 6

  The next morning, Milly scraped at the frost on her bedroom window and peered outside. The snowfall that had thickened overnight showed no signs of slowing. Drifts as high as the middle of the huge oak tree on the back property of the tavern made Milly’s eyes widen. She couldn’t remember the last time it had snowed this hard and for this long.

  She dressed and quickly went downstairs. Her father and Menough walked into the dining room. Elijah was kneeling by the fire, laying a few logs on top of the glowing embers. His back was to her, and he wore the same tailored suit coat he’d had on the past couple of days, with his dark, curly hair just past the back of his collar.

  “Everyone is up rather early,” she said.

  “I’d hoped the weather had improved enough for us to fix the stagecoach.” Menough plopped into the chair.

  “No one’s going anywhere in this.” Her father’s nose and cheeks were as red as holly berries. “I’m sure the coach is halfway buried by now.”

  Menough tapped his fingers on the arm of the chair. “At least the horses are happy in the barn,” he said. “It’s nice and toasty for them in there. Please accept my apologies, Mr. Montgomery. Again.”

  Milly glanced at Elijah. He looked over his shoulder at the driver, his expression serene. “Don’t worry about it, Mr. Menough. My business in Cleveland can wait.” He turned his gaze to Milly and winked. She gave him a quick grin. He returned it, causing her cheeks to heat.

  “Milly?” Her father interrupted her thoughts. “Help in the kitchen, please.”

  But she couldn’t pull away from Elijah’s gaze. Not yet.

  “We don’t have all morning, Milly.”

  At Father’s words, she yanked away her gaze and hurried to the kitchen. When she entered, her father was leaning against the counter. His thick brows formed a V over his puzzled eyes.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  He paused. “Do you…”

  When he didn’t finish his thought, she moved toward him. “Do I what?”

  He shook his head. “Nothing. It’s…nothing.” He turned to the stove and began cracking eggs into the cast-iron skillet.

  She shrugged and started helping with breakfast. But her thoughts never strayed far from Elijah. Even as she worked in the kitchen, first cooking then cleaning after breakfast was done, she thought about him in the dining room, sitting with Mr. O’Reardon and talking. She hadn’t seen him this relaxed before, and she was glad for it.

  Later that morning, Milly finished decorating for Christmas Eve. Their guests had retired for a few hours to their respective rooms, except for Aunt Louise, who had disappeared in the kitchen.

  Milly hummed as she tied scarlet-colored bows on the backs of the chairs. Polished the counter until it gleamed. Pulled out the pine garland she’d made two days earlier by tying the boughs together end to end. It had dried a bit but was still fresh. She had just gotten out the short ladder, the same one she used as a child, to put the garland around the door frame when Elijah entered the room.

  He glanced around, his eyes shining with approval. “Looks nice.” He slipped his hands into his pockets. “You always work so hard, Milly.”

  “I don’t mind.” She smiled and started to climb the ladder. Outside the snow continued to come down. It seemed like it would never stop.

  “Can I help?” Elijah asked.

  “You can hand me the garland on the counter.” She paused in the middle of the ladder.

  “I have a better idea.” He held his hand out to her. “How about I put the garland up for you?”

  “I do this every year. So it’s no bother—”

  “I know, Milly. Nothing is a bother for you.” He smiled. “But allow me the privilege of doing something for you for a change.”

  Milly hesitated, touched by the gesture. She looked at his hand then slipped hers into it. His long fingers folded over hers as he helped her down the ladder. When he let go, she could still feel the tingle of his touch on her skin.

  When he ascended the top step, Milly reached for the garland. Her aunt’s loud voice carried through the swinging kitchen door.

  “Cornelius, I will not abide you destroying my sister’s stuffing recipe.”

  Milly glanced over her shoulder as her father and aunt came out of the kitchen.

  “I’m not destroying anything.” Her father’s bushy eyebrows straightened into a line across his sunken blue eyes. “You tasted it. It’s perfect.”

  “Perfectly dreadful.” Louise wiped her mouth with a dainty handkerchief. “You used too much sage.”

  “I used the exact amount my wife always used.”

  Milly shook her head and grabbed the garland. She couldn’t believe they were arguing over the stuffing. Again. Every year they had the same disagreement. Over sage, of all things. The stuffing always tasted delicious. For some reason, her father and aunt couldn’t go a day without bickering.

  “Milly?”

  She turned to look at Elijah. “I’m sorry. Here.” She started to hand him the garland when a large cracking sound made her jump.

  Suddenly, the ladder gave way under his feet.

  “Elijah!” she shouted.

  He flailed in the air for a moment before hitting the ground. She knelt beside him. “Are you all right?”

  He moaned and slowly sat up. “Yes, I think so.”

  She breathed out a sigh of relief. “Good thing it’s a short ladder. You could have been injured.”

  He rubbed his arm. “I think my shoulder disagrees with you.”

  Her father came up behind them. “Mr. Montgomery, are you—”

  “All right?” Elijah smiled ruefully. “Only thing truly wounded is my pride.”

  Aunt Louise looked at the broken ladder and wrinkled her nose. “If you ask me, Cornelius, you should have gotten rid of that ladder a long time ago. It’s only useful for kindling now.”

  Milly looked at the ladder then at her father. Even broken, she didn’t want to part with it. But she couldn’t admit it out loud, not without sounding silly and overly sentimental over a few old pieces of wood that had nearly caused Elijah serious harm. Her father nodded slightly, picked up the ladder, and looked at Aunt Louise.

  “No one asked you, Louise.” He took the broken ladder and disappeared into the kitchen.

  Louise crossed her chubby arms across her chest. “Well, I never!”

  “For the love o’ peace and quiet,” O’Reardon said, descending the staircase. “Don’t tell me ye and Cornelius are at it again.”

  “Yes,” Milly and Elijah said at the same time. They both laughed, and she noticed he moved closer to her.

  “I don’t see anything funny, young lady.” Aunt Louise gave Milly a stern look.

  “Relax, Mrs. Crosby. We’re all just havin’ a bit o’ fun.”

  “You were not invited to take part in this conversation, Mr. O’Reardon.”

  “Louise,” her father said, coming out of the kitchen. “You do realize you’re free to leave anytime if you find the company here at the tavern not to your liking.”

  “You’re the one who didn’t want anyone going out in this horrid weather.” Aunt Louise sniffed. “It’s as if you want me to get lost in the blizzard.”

  Her father sighed. “If only.”

  O’Reardon shook his head. “The two of you are acting like children, ye are.”

  Aunt Louise turned, narrowing her gaze. “Excuse me?”

  O’Reardon straightened to his full, yet still diminutive, height. “You and
Cornelius. Always fightin’. Yer family, not boxing mates.”

  Breathing in a gasp, Aunt Louise said, “You have a lot of nerve, nosing into our business.”

  “Yer always loud enough to make it everyone’s business.”

  Milly curled her bottom lip inward. Elijah stood stock still, as did her father, while O’Reardon and Aunt Louise eyed each other like the adversaries they seemed to be.

  “If you think for one minute I’m about to take advice from a man who has nothing better to do than hang out at a tavern—”

  “The same tavern ye be hangin’ out in, I must remind ye.”

  “Then you are sorely mistaken.” She leaned forward. “Your words are of little consequence, Mr. O’Reardon. Wait, my mistake. They are of no consequence.”

  “Aunt Louise,” Milly whispered, shocked that her aunt could be so mean, especially to a man who was trying to bring peace between her and Father. Her father placed his hand on Milly’s arm, silencing her.

  O’Reardon didn’t back down. “Mrs. Crosby, did ye ever stop to think I come here for the same reason ye do?”

  “I can’t imagine our reasons are the same. I come to spend time with my niece. The fact that her father is intolerable most of the time is a burden I must bear.”

  “Oh brother,” Elijah whispered. He leaned over to speak in Milly’s ear. “I mean no offense, but is your aunt always this…”

  “Insufferable?” Milly shook her head as she whispered, “But today she seems especially cranky.”

  O’Reardon moved closer to Aunt Louise. “Ye can make up all the excuses ye want, but I know the truth. Ye come here because yer lonely.” He rubbed his finger back and forth underneath the reddish-gray stubble on his upper lip. “Same as me.”

  “Mr. O’Reardon! I demand you take that back.”

  “I will not, because it’s the truth. Ye know it plain as I do.” He adjusted his cap, turned, and without another word walked upstairs.