Loving the Horseman

by Davalynn Spencer

  Fresh hope. A future. God’s expected end.

  Caleb longed for all three.

  His first Sunday had gone well. People had not stayed away simply because their pastor was gone and his fill-in was a stable hand.

  Humbled by Pastor Hartman’s willingness to leave his flock in Caleb’s care, and the congregation’s willingness to give him the opportunity, he checked the fire again and adjusted the damper. The small building should be warm by the time people arrived for the evening’s service.

  But rather than stay and go over his brief sermon, Caleb answered his instincts that called him back to the livery. He’d learned a long time ago to follow that call where animals were concerned. He just hadn’t paid it as much heed with people.

  Scanning the room and pleased with his preparations, he softly closed the door and hurried to the livery.

  Thank God, he’d listened.

  Nell flattened her ears as Caleb entered the stall—not her usual easygoing welcome. Her rounded belly had a more angular look, and she swished her tail and stomped a back foot. Caleb’s gut twisted at the signs. Not now.

  Agitated and twitchy, Nell’s discomfort sent her head reaching back toward her sides, blowing and whiffling. Caleb had no way to predict how soon or how quickly she would foal, and he couldn’t be two places at once—in the livery with Nell and across the street at the Christmas Eve service.

  He’d assured Pastor Hartman he’d care for the congregation—the brave souls who’d left the comforts and customs of home to start a new life in the Rockies. Maybe he could leave Nell to her own devices. How many times had he been surprised, as a boy, to walk in on a spindly legged foal nuzzling a carefree mama who had delivered without anyone’s help?

  But one never knew for sure. And Nell was Annie’s joy. There was more to this delivery than simply another foal.

  With divided loyalty tearing at his gut, he grabbed his duster and set out for the mercantile. The sliver of daylight above Fremont Peak told him folks would soon be arriving at the church. He’d ask Annie and her father to watch Nell while he greeted people, and to let him know if she was in distress

  Annie stood bundled at the stove, ready to leave, while her father banked the fire and set the lid. The bell pulled her toward the door, and her eyes warmed with welcome until she saw what lay behind Caleb’s own.

  Hurrying to him, her voice rose tight and worried. “What is it? Is something wrong at the church house?”

  He clasped both her hands in his, regretting the tension he’d set in her brow. “It’s Nell. She’s close to her time.”

  He looked over Annie’s head to her father tugging on his overcoat and scarf.

  “I’m here to ask if you’ll stay with her while I start the service and let the people know what’s happening.”

  “Of course we will. Let’s go.” Daniel stormed out the door as if he’d put all his life and soul into that mare rather than bemoaned her appetite.

  The lantern Caleb had hung outside Nell’s stall pooled a yellow light in the alleyway and deepened the shadows beyond. Nell whinnied at the intrusion, and flattened her ears in warning.

  “Don’t go in,” Caleb warned. “No matter what happens, do not go in the stall.”

  Annie and Daniel leaned against the railing, looking as if they’d never seen a horse in all their lives. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.

  “Promise me.” Caleb laid his hand on Annie’s shoulder, pressing until she looked at him.

  “I promise,” she said.

  Nell paced as much as the cramped box allowed, and Caleb wished he had a larger space for her. In her irritable condition, any unwelcomed intruder could be hurt. Or killed.

  “It’s very likely she’ll deliver without any problem. She may lie down and get up again. She may kick or moan. Whatever she does, do not go in there.”

  “What should we look for if we need to come for you?” Daniel’s steady voice and calm expression restored Caleb’s confidence in his choice of guardian.

  “Two hooves and a nose is what we want to come first.” His discomfort at mentioning such intimate details in Annie’s presence subsided as he studied her unflustered profile. “If anything else presents instead, come and get me.”

  She touched his arm. “Daddy will come and get us. I am going with you.” Her fingers pressed into his sleeve, and she lowered her voice. “I’ll be praying for you as well as for Nell.”

  Caleb’s heart hammered into his throat. With a final glance at the mare and then at the lovely woman who believed in him more than he deserved, he took her hand and they walked out the livery doors and across the street.

  ~

  Hannah and her parents had driven in from their ranch, and Caleb gratefully acknowledged the young woman’s tending of the lanterns and candles. The little church glowed with goodwill, and people chose benches closer to the front this evening, either to join in the festive Christmas spirit or to avoid the dropping temperature that lurked beyond the back door.

  Caleb stepped up on the rough-hewn platform to lead the first carol.

  No organ or piano accompanied the rich vocal mix of miner and merchant. But all knew the tune, and those who were braver broke into harmony. The few children’s angelic voices joined the chorus, and Caleb’s spirit rose on the sound. The very angels who declared the Lord’s birth could not have announced it more majestically than the simple folk of this little mountain town.

  His eyes settled on Annie, seated with the Smith family. She caught his look and held it with what appeared to be a promise. Could she someday be his?

  Warmed by the fire and the people crowded into the tiny church, the air simmered with paraffin, lamp oil, and fresh pine. Bible in hand, Caleb stood next to the simple pulpit, wanting nothing between him and the people this night.

  “As you all know, I care for the stock at the livery—a skill I learned many years before my seminary training. I stand here this evening to extend to you your pastor’s heartfelt Christmas blessings, to rejoice with you in our Lord’s priceless gift, and also to explain the situation at hand.”

  People settled in their places, women removed gloves, and men balanced hats on their laps.

  Caleb cleared his throat and took a small step forward. “The Whitaker’s mare has chosen this night to birth her foal, and if I’m needed—I apologize—but I’ll be stepping out.”

  A few women ducked their heads at mention of such a thing in public and murmurs hummed across the room, but no one left. A good sign.

  A deep breath loosened his chest and the familiarity of God’s Word in his hand strengthened his stance. “The Scriptures tell us that our faith is more valuable than gold. We know something about that around here, don’t we? Gold.”

  His emphasis of the word set heads to wagging and eyes to glittering.

  “Consider the gifts the Christ child received from the Eastern kings: frankincense, myrrh, gold. A king’s gold, pure and refined and weighty, nothing like what men scrabble for in the creek beds and canyons of these Rocky Mountains.”

  A few chuckles rippled across the room as men cast knowing glances among themselves and women tsked.

  “So what kind of treasure do we bring to the Babe this Christmas? Refined, pure gold or crusty ore mixed with pebbles and dirt?”

  The question sobered his listeners, and he lifted his Bible to read from First Peter. “Wherein ye greatly rejoice, though now for a season, if need be, ye are in heaviness through manifold temptations.”

  He looked up from the page and into the eyes of those seated on the benches and standing against the back wall. “We have manifold temptations represented here this evening. I personally have enough to pass among you with plenty left over. But I confess that I haven’t greatly rejoiced in them.”

  Again he lifted the book and read from it. “That the trial of your faith, being much more precious than of gold that perisheth, though it be tried with fire, might be found unto praise and honor and glory at the appearing of Jesus Chr
ist.”

  A chilly gust swept in, and Caleb looked up to see Daniel at the door, worry tightening his brow. Annie looked toward the back and straightened, as if ready to stand.

  He was nearly finished with his message. “Prospectors and speculators will tell you there is no gold in Cañon City. Show them otherwise. Let the trial in your life—whatever that trial may be—purify your faith to a burning, burnished gold, worthy of the King who was the Child, so that something more valuable than mined mountain ore will shine for Him here.”

  He closed his Bible and looked over the celebrants. “With Mr. Whitaker’s sudden arrival, it appears that I am needed at the stable.”

  Low voices buzzed, and most turned toward the entrance.

  “I apologize for cutting this celebration short, but I wish you all a blessed Christmas, and pray for your safe journey home and warm memories of your first such event in the great canyon’s guardian city.”

  Hannah rose to attend to the candles and lanterns, and Caleb thanked her as he grabbed his hat and duster and hurried out, Annie at his side.

  ~

  The few lines that Annie heard Caleb speak revealed a side of him that she longed to know more of. But right now, she needed the horseman, because Nell must be having a tough go of it.

  Caleb stripped off his hat and coat as he entered the barn, gave them to Annie, and rolled up his sleeves. Nell remained on her side, and great rolling contractions rippled across her belly. Caleb eased into the stall, sending his rich, warm voice ahead. Nell’s ears flicked his way and back again.

  His gentle confidence stilled Annie’s pounding heart, and she linked her arm through her father’s. Within moments Caleb caught two tiny hooves in one hand and a white nose in the other. With one final heave, Nell pushed a miracle into his arms.

  The mare lay still, exhausted and breathing hard. Annie feared she had no strength left at all when the horse raised her head and curled back around to sniff and nicker a motherly welcome. Finally, she pulled herself up and turned to stand over the leggy infant, licking and rumbling deep in her chest.

  Annie stood enthralled by what she saw, so much so that she hadn’t heard the great livery doors open and a small crowd approach. When a child’s voice broke the stillness, she looked around to see a dozen people pressing into the alleyway, craning their necks for a look at the newborn.

  “Welcome to Cañon City, little fella.” Emmy Smith peeked through the stall slats at the wobbly foal whose spindly legs fought for purchase.

  “I think you mean little filly,” Caleb corrected with a smile in his voice.

  Laughter rippled through the onlookers, and Emmy tucked her chin and poked out her lip.

  “They’re not laughing at you, they’re laughing with you.” Springer knelt beside his sister. “It’s a little girl. Filly means girl.”

  “Like me?” Emmy’s bright eyes searched her papa’s face, where he stood with an arm tight about her mama’s shoulders.

  “That’s right, darlin’. Just like you.”

  “Guess you knew what you were talkin’ about, Hutton.” The crusty voice rose from behind the crowd, and heads turned to identify the speaker.

  Magistrate Warren cleared his throat and tugged at his hat. “There’s more gold here in these hills than the kind that glitters.”

  The yellow filly hobbled forward and nuzzled its mother, and people jostled and bid Merry Christmas on their way out of the stable.

  At last, only Annie, her father, and Caleb stood at the gate watching Nell and her foal. Annie slipped an arm through that of each man standing beside her and pulled them closer. “Imagine, spending Christmas Eve in a barn. What would Aunt Harriet think?”

  Her father coughed out a laugh that startled the filly, and he clamped a hand over his mouth and stepped back.

  Annie giggled and looked to Caleb, whose eyes held such love that she wanted to melt into his arms right then and there.

  “I’d best be getting to the mercantile.” Her father’s face fairly glowed. “Martha’s there with a Christmas pudding waiting on us all to string popcorn for the tree.”

  Annie hugged his girth and planted a kiss on his ruddy cheek.

  “You did a fine job tonight, son. A fine job.” He slapped Caleb on the shoulder and headed for the door. “I’m going on. You both come along when you’re finished here.” At the door, he paused. “You know you’re invited, Caleb. We wouldn’t have it any other way. The more the merrier.”

  Annie caught the twinkle in her father’s eyes and swore she saw his mustache twitch.

  Caleb retrieved a water bucket and towel from his living quarters, then washed his arms and hands in the lantern’s light. Annie looked away, warmth flooding her neck and cheeks. Such intimate moments they’d shared this day, and they weren’t even courting. What would Edna say?

  Her left foot gave a small stomp. She didn’t care what Edna would say. Annie had found more in Cañon City than she’d ever dreamed. And she wasn’t about to let proprieties take that from her.

  With new resolve, she turned to see Caleb watching her, pulling on his duster and settling his hat on his head. An odd smirk played on his lips.

  “What?” Suddenly fidgety, she swirled her scarf around her neck and dug in her cloak pocket for her mittens.

  As he moved toward her, her feet grew roots. She couldn’t have fled if she wanted to. But she didn’t want to. His dark eyes drank her in. Her hair, her temples, her lips, disarming her until her insides went limp.

  He stopped just beyond her tightly clutched hands, so close his breath touched her face, as did the scent of him—wool and leather, his canvas duster. He slipped one hand around her waist and pulled her into him, brushing her mouth with his eyes and then his lips.

  She flattened both hands against his chest and felt again his heart beating a rhythm in time with her own.

  “I love you, Annie Whitaker. Will you wait for me?”

  Wait? What’s to wait for?

  Searching for her voice, she found it snagged on a question. “Wait?” she whispered.

  “Until I have something to offer you. A home. A livelihood. Something besides a stable boy’s pay and a box stall.”

  Her voice fled again and tears pushed behind her eyes. She swiped at them, determined not to be a silly twit like her sister. With a shaky breath, she yanked her voice back from its hiding place.

  “On two conditions.”

  His jaw flexed at her counter and he pressed her closer. “And what might they be?”

  “That you take me riding up the river as soon as the snow and ice melt.”

  A slow smile pulled his mouth on one side. “And your second condition?”

  “That you kiss me again right now before Daddy and Martha come looking for us.”

  The last thing she saw between her closing lashes was hunger in his dark eyes.

  EPILOGUE

  Annie fussed with the black trim on the bodice of her blue silk dress and reset her hair combs for the hundredth time.

  “Let me.” Martha shooed Annie’s hands away from her head. “Be still now. You look absolutely divine. I tell you, that young man of yours won’t know his head from his hat when he sees you in this blue taffeta. I knew I’d have a need for it someday, and with your hair shining like a kiln fire, how will he ever concentrate enough to officiate over Hannah and Robert?”

  Annie wrapped the seamstress in a quick hug, then allowed her to fuss with the folds of her skirt. Hannah watched them both with a nervous twitch that set her bouquet to quivering against her cream-colored gown.

  “Oh, Hannah, you’re not frightened, are you?” Annie held a hand out to the girl, who looked as if she might faint any moment.

  “I’m just so nervous,” Hannah whispered as if sharing a secret. “I want everything to go right and be done with—before we have another storm or someone else breaks his leg. Tell me again how this is going to work.”

  “We’re all going to be Mrs. to our dear husbands, child.” Martha bl
oomed like a rose in her garden as she gave Annie’s hair a final pat and turned to the youngest of the three brides. “You will lead us between the bench rows at the church house, followed by Annie and then myself. Your Robert, Annie’s Caleb, and my Daniel will be waiting for us at the front.”

  “Then Caleb will take you and Robert through your vows.” Annie fluffed Hannah’s full sleeves. “He’s going to kiss you in front of everyone.” She couldn’t resist teasing.

  Hannah went white. “Caleb is going to kiss me?”

  Martha burst into laughter and Annie colored with guilty delight. “No, silly. Robert is going to kiss you. After Caleb marries the two of you.”

  “Then you will step back, Robert will step forward, and Caleb will take his place beside Annie for their vows,” Martha explained.

  Annie’s pulse threatened to burst her tight neckline.

  “Who will marry you and Daniel?” Hannah asked Martha, the flowers steadier in her hand with so many questions on her mind.

  “Robert,” Annie said. “He is the most senior pastor, and as his last duty here—at least for a while—he will have the honor of joining my father and Martha.”

  She slipped her arm around the seamstress’s waist and gave her a quick hug. “Thanks to you and your talents, we make three lovely brides. Who would have thought you could fashion winter roses from ribbon and lace and fabric scraps?”

  Martha blushed and waved away the remark, her cheeks nearly matching the deep burgundy of her simple but finely pleated dress.

  Annie walked to the mercantile door. It looked as if the entire town was trying to squeeze into the clapboard church house. Three brides and their grooms would not be the only people standing for the ceremony.

  Winter had calmed its blustery self just long enough for Pastor Hartman to return for his bride the week after Christmas as originally planned. Annie prayed for it to hold until their safe return to Denver, where Hartman would take over for his still recovering brother.

  How suddenly circumstances had changed. Gratitude swelled within her for God’s mysterious plans unfolding so perfectly. She and Caleb planned to live in the parsonage, her father would move in with Martha, and Springer Smith had already taken over at the livery under Caleb’s watchful eye—at least until the boy learned to handle the horses. Oh, how Springer’s face had lit when Caleb asked if he’d be willing.