A Pioneer Christmas Collection

by Kathleen Fuller

  Sam wrapped the scarf back around Mr. Stedman’s face. Each on a corner, they toted him over to the sleigh and slid him in back, stiff as lumber. Reverend Swenson had had the foresight to bring rope, so they tied him down real good.

  Sam looked at the reverend. “Take him by the missus first, so she can say good-bye?”

  “Not with the boy there. Let her do it privately, in town.”

  Yep, Jeremiah liked this minister more and more. The man cared. To Jeremiah, that was the most important thing a man could do. Mr. Stubb had cared enough to invest in a worthless kid. That kid’s own pa hadn’t.

  One of the things Jeremiah did for Mr. Stubb was to look around where cattle might have been rustled and try to get an idea of what happened. They’d caught three or four rustlers that way. The three men were waiting on him, he knew, but he started looking the area over good. He wanted to know. No tracks, of course. Any tracks were snowed under, not to be found. But the wagon frame told him some things.

  The reverend asked, “Why did the robbers that fell upon him and stole his supplies not just take the wagon?”

  “’Zactly what I was wonderin’ myself.” Jeremiah pointed to the near rear hub and axle. “Look close here. You expect it to be black from axle grease like the other hubs. But this black is different. It’s charred.” He gripped the wheel rim and strained mightily. Wouldn’t budge.

  Sam nodded. “His wheel wasn’t greased enough, and it locked up. Quit turning. Probably smoking, so he had to stop. Pretty smart, Jennings.”

  Jeremiah pointed. “The off rear wheel is gone. He likely took it off. If I was out here and a wheel locked up, I’d pull the other wheels to steal some grease from each of them and get the bad wheel working again. Reckon that’s what he was doing as well.”

  The reverend nodded. “Good surmise, Mr. Jennings. And if the pneumonia was upon him, he might have been too sick and weak to do much more than clear a spot and build a fire.”

  Sam said, “Cray Sheets at the hotel says Stedman stayed in town a week. Said he wanted to get back, but he was feeling poorly. Didn’t think it was pneumonia though. Just blowing his nose and such. ’Sides, there was that bad storm to delay him, too.”

  The picture was coming clear. “He delayed in town, trying to feel better, and finally decided he had to get home. Maybe ran out of money; it’s expensive staying in town. So he started out, got this far—too far to turn back—and his wheel locked up. And then the pneumonia came on him. And then the robbers. They couldn’t move the wagon either, what with that wheel, so they left it and just took his supplies.” Jeremiah shook his head. “Everything in the world went bad on him all at once.”

  Marcus sighed. “And he was such a good man, too.”

  “ ‘He sends His rain on the just and the unjust.’ Matthew 5 something,” Sam quoted.

  “Matthew 5:45, I believe. Near the end of that chapter.” The reverend took one last look at the forlorn wagon frame and climbed up into his sleigh. “Mr. Jennings, you may come into town with us if you wish, or return to tell the missus what we’re doing here. I will take the remains in and then come visit her.”

  He pondered a moment. “Can the church give the missus a loan? I could get her some supplies.”

  Sam smiled. “I can spare a dollar or two.”

  “Me, too,” said Marcus.

  The reverend bobbed his head and twisted his horse aside to break his runners loose. “Excellent plan.” He clucked his horse forward. “Mr. Jennings, you know pretty much what they need most. If you come with us, we’ll load up this sleigh for the drive back to the Stedman place. We’re not a wealthy church; in fact, most of us are poor as church mice, so to speak, so we cannot replace the stolen supplies. But we can ease her burden.”

  “Reverend Swenson, I’m much obliged to you.”

  Sam said, “And send some more out later, maybe.”

  Marcus added, “And axle grease. Lots of axle grease.”

  Chapter 11

  Reverend said he would be out to visit you today.” Jeremiah set the milk bucket on the table.

  Belle nodded. “Thank you.”

  “Said he had a niece who was a bit of a handful. Twelve years old, and her parents are at the end of their patience with her.”

  “That’s sad. Is she in trouble? With others, I mean.”

  “Not that he said—more high-spirited, it sounds like.”

  “Breakfast is ready. Give Abel a shake, please.”

  At the prompting, Abel climbed out of bed and shoved his feet into his boots then sat down at the table, still rubbing his eyes. Blue eyes widened when his mother set scrambled eggs with meat in them on the table. “Eggs!”

  “I wish there were more, but at least we can enjoy a treat.”

  Jeremiah inhaled. “Smells like a corner of heaven.”

  She set a plate of cornmeal patties on the table, too. “One of these days I will make biscuits, but these will do for now.” She sat down and smiled at her son. “How would you like to say grace, Abel?”

  He nodded. “Thank You, Jesus, for food and milk and Nosey and eggs and that that mean old rooster missed me yesterday. Amen.” His words had run into one long one, except for the amen, making his mother smile.

  When they finished eating, Belle poured more oat coffee into their cups, filling Abel’s with cream and then passing the pitcher to Jeremiah. “Cream makes even this kind of coffee palatable.”

  “It’s hot and tastes fine to me.”

  Rusty scrambled up, his tail wagging on his way to the door where, nose to the edge, he announced they had company coming.

  Abel jumped up and retrieved the rifle from the corner, handing it to his mother. When the knock came, he went to open it.

  Belle caught Jeremiah’s quizzical expression. “Anson insisted after we had an unwelcome visitor one time.”

  “Ma, it’s Reverend Swenson.”

  “Well, invite him in.”

  Before the man stepped through the door, Belle put the rifle behind her skirts. “Welcome, Reverend. You’re out early.”

  “Good morning. And a fine morning it is.” He nodded to the young girl beside him. “I brought Cordellia along with me, my niece.”

  “Welcome, Cordellia, I’m Mrs. Stedman. My son, Abel. Our guest, Mr. Jennings. We have some roasted oats coffee if you would like a cup.”

  “Thank you. We have a few supplies along. Families donated some.” He looked to Jeremiah. “And Sam decided he could loan you his old mule. He’s getting kind of old for plowing and such, but he was hoping you might find a use for him in case you needed to go for help.” He unwound his muffler from around his neck.

  “I’ll bring the things in.” Jeremiah rose and grabbed his coat.

  Belle smiled at the gangly girl. “Come sit over here.”

  Cordellia shook her head. “I’ll go help Mr. Jennings if you don’t mind.”

  When the two had left, the reverend took Jeremiah’s chair. “I have a big favor to ask. Might you be willing to help us out by keeping Cordellia out here with you for a while? I know she can be a big help, and perhaps you can be a good influence on her. Her ma says she is a real good worker but tends to daydream a lot and has no interest in ladylike pursuits.”

  Thoughts darted through her mind like spring swallows on a bug hunt. The girl’s blue eyes already haunted her. With freckles dusting a turned-up nose, Cordellia could not be called beautiful by any means, but since when did that matter? “We don’t have a lot of room, as you know.”

  “She could sleep in the lean-to or on a pallet on the floor. Her ma said she could send out some flour and such in return for keeping her. Cordellia and your Abel here ought to get along right well.”

  “What about school? Shouldn’t she be in school?”

  “Well, I thought as how you can read and write and do sums, mayhap you would teach her.” He dropped his voice. “She was the instigator behind several pranks at the schoolhouse, and she and the teacher don’t get along too well.”

&
nbsp; Belle hid a grin. This girl sounded just like her younger sister. Leaving Amy behind was one of the hardest things she had ever done when she and Anson came west. Taking a deep breath, she nodded. “Of course she can stay with us. And while I think there might be a bit of conniving between you and Mr. Jennings, I do believe this will work out for all of us. Far better that she comes here than we get hauled off to stay with someone else.”

  “God does indeed provide.”

  The door opened, and Cordellia and Mr. Jennings entered, arms full of supplies, with Rusty dancing at their feet.

  “Oh Reverend, how can I ever thank you?”

  “It weren’t me but the folks of our congregation. When they heard your supplies were stolen, they dug deep.”

  “How can I repay them?”

  “By being a saving grace for Cordellia. With the mule, you’ll be able to come to town for church one Sunday in the near future. Soon’s we can bust your wagon out of the ice lock, we’ll get it fixed and bring it back for you.”

  Belle sniffed then had to dab at her eyes.

  “You got enough hay for both the cow and the mule?”

  “I hope so.”

  He leaned forward. “Now I hate to get too personal, but do you have any cash on hand?”

  She shook her head. “Anson took it all to buy supplies.”

  “Figured as much. Don’t you go getting worried. God will provide, but you got to be honest with me and be willing to ask for help. Now I know that comes hard, but our Father gives us each other to make the road easier. Some people have a need to help, and if you don’t ask, you cheat them out of doing what God is telling them to do.”

  Belle set the cradle to rocking with one foot. “All I can say is thank you.”

  “Thank Him, not just us.”

  Cordellia and Jeremiah set the last of the supplies on the floor. “That does it,” Jeremiah said.

  “Did you bring your things in?” Reverend Swenson asked the girl.

  “No, but I will.” She looked to Belle. “Are you sure, ma’am?” She glanced down, and her eye caught the cradle. “You have a baby?” Her voice wore awe like a coating of cream.

  “Angel was born on Christmas Eve.”

  “Oh, I love babies. Can I touch her?”

  “Of course.”

  Cordellia knelt by the cradle. “She is so beautiful. And you called her Angel.”

  “The man told me that was her name.” Abel glanced at his mother as if asking if all was well.

  “Really, what man?”

  “We’ll tell you the story later.” Belle watched the girl. “Have you been around babies before?”

  “Not for a long time.” She rose. “I’ll go get my things.”

  “Well, if that is all settled, I’d best be on my way. Jeremiah, you want to take that mule out to the barn? By the way, his name is Samson. Cordellia already made friends with him. The bridle stays with him.”

  “I cannot say thank you enough,” Belle said. “And thank all those generous people for me, too.”

  “We’ll get that wagon back for you as soon as we can. Don’t want to leave it there too long, or it will walk off, too.” He settled his hat on his head and stepped into the sleigh. “Lord bless and keep you.” He clucked at the horse then stopped. “You tell Jeremiah that when he comes back through this way, he’s already got family and friends here.”

  “I will.” Belle waved him off and returned to the house, Cordellia right beside her.

  “I’ll help you put those supplies away.”

  “Thank you, I just have to figure where to put them all. Soon’s the winter weather lets up, we can move the cow and chickens back out to the barn.” She turned to the girl. “Do you know how to milk a cow?”

  “Yes. I don’t care much for chickens. They seem so flighty.” She turned at the first whimper from the cradle. “Can I pick her up?”

  Belle almost said no, but the look of pleading on the girl’s face made her change her mind. “I take it you’ve been with babies before, then?”

  “Like I said, not for a long time. I’ll be careful. I promise.”

  Angel whimpered. Cordellia leaned over the cradle and gently, as if touching thistle down, slid her hands under the wrapped bundle of baby and held her in one arm against her chest. “Angel is such a perfect name for you.” She rocked as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “You think it’s time to eat?” Cordellia looked up to Belle, her eyes shining. “Thank you.”

  “I’ll show you where to put some of those things while I change her and feed her.” Belle did as she said and made herself and the baby comfortable in the rocker. “Abel went out to the barn?”

  “I guess so.” Cordellia opened each of the packets and filled the tins. “Mrs. March sent you some of her hundred-year sourdough starter. And some flour so you can keep it going. Someone else sent flour, too. Look here.” She sniffed a can with a lid. “Someone sent bacon drippings. Now that’s strange.”

  “No, that is wonderful. I can put it in so many things. Soon we’ll have butter, too. Such riches.” Belle blew out a breath. Now if only Jeremiah didn’t have to leave, but she knew he would probably head out tomorrow.

  That night Cordellia laid her pallet at the foot of the rope-strung bed, and both she and Abel were asleep within minutes. Jeremiah and Belle, she with the baby sleeping in her arms, sat in front of the fire. Jeremiah had a piece of wood he was carving on, brushing the chips into a pile.

  “I meant what I said, you know.”

  “What—that you’re leaving first thing in the morning?”

  “Well, that too, but I have given this plenty of thought, and I do believe that I love you. The big question is, do you think you could come to love me?”

  The words wanted to leap out of her mouth, but she bade her tongue and lips behave. “It is too soon yet.”

  “That wasn’t the question.”

  “Oh.” She rocked a couple of times, heaving a sigh. “But there are problems, you see.”

  “Such as?”

  “I want to live here, and you will be living on a ranch way northwest of here.”

  “If you believe you can come to love me, then somehow that will work out.” He scraped some chips unto the growing stack. “If I write to you, will you write to me?”

  “Yes.” There was no hesitation there.

  “Good.”

  “When will you come back?”

  “Not until after calving and branding and clearing whatever messes await me. So probably not before June. I will write to you.” He dusted off his carving and handed her a wooden horse. “This is the first horse I will give Abel, but not the last.” He brushed the shavings pile into a bag he kept handy for tinder.

  “I have a feeling Cordellia is going to like it here.” He nodded, thinking as he stared into the fire. “I think God sent her.”

  “Like He sent you?” She had a hard time believing she’d said that, but so truly God had been guiding Jeremiah.

  “Maybe you can trade butter and cheese for hay or grain when you need it. Your wagon will take some fixin’.”

  “Are you sure you meant…ah, meant what you said?” Her heart felt like it might leap out of her mouth.

  “That I love you?”

  “Yes.” She let the words nestle around her heart.

  “Guess it gets easier with the saying.”

  “I guess.”

  He rose and leaned over, tipping her chin up with one finger. “And this is what love feels like.”

  His kiss not only warmed her lips but her heart and traveled deep into her soul. When he lifted his mouth, she let her head rest on the back of the rocker, staring up at him with seeking eyes.

  “I will see you in June.”

  The next morning, his words echoed in her heart as she and Abel, along with Cordellia, waved him good-bye. They stood in front of the sod house, sun glinting on the snow, and waved until they couldn’t see him. “The Lord keep thee safe,” she whispered. Jeremiah’s words,
All will be well, echoed again in her heart. “Please Lord, let that be so.”

  Epilogue

  You sure he will be here?” Cordellia asked with a skeptical look from under her brows.

  “He said he would be.” And he’s never lied yet. Belle breathed a silent prayer. The last time someone didn’t come home when he said was when Anson didn’t return, and it wasn’t his fault. Dear Lord, not again, please.

  Abel burst into the room. “He’s here! He’s here!”

  Belle felt her knees near to buckle. Relief could cause that, same as fear. Thank You, Lord. You got me through before; thank You for now. Every morning she woke with thank You on her mind. Thank You burst in like the first green grass and the meadowlarks singing. All were announcing they were back. The prairie was no longer locked in winter. She started for the door, and Mrs. Swenson grabbed her arm.

  “It’s bad luck to see the groom on your wedding day before the ceremony, a’course.”

  “All right, if you insist, but can I send him a message?”

  The two women in the room with her looked at each other and shrugged.

  Cordellia, eyes shining, announced, “I’ll go tell him.”

  “Tell him…” Belle closed her eyes. “Tell him all is well.”

  “That all?”

  “Yes, that is all.” She’d signed the letter almost that way, only “All will be well.” And he’d answered. Letters had been her lifeline in the months since that day after Christmas when he’d ridden north to his new job.

  She returned in a minute. “You shoulda seen his face—like the sun lit it.”

  Belle felt peace settle over her. She looked over to the corner where one of her friends had picked up the baby. At five months, Angel charmed everyone.

  A knock at the door, and Reverend Swenson asked, “You ready?”

  “Yes.” Belle picked up her bouquet of pink prairie roses, one of her favorite spring and summer flowers, and Cordellia, carrying Angel, walked out first. Belle followed her and paused at the door. Abel stepped in beside her and grinned up at her.

  “He’s up front.” His whisper could have carried clear to Fargo.

  Belle nodded.