Disappointment flooded him. He shook it off. He didn’t have time for that. He didn’t have time for anything that wouldn’t bring Micah home to his mother. Nothing else mattered.
He continued, each step bringing him closer to understanding, if not to his son. Their son. Had Ada experienced the same single-mindedness when she’d realized she carried their baby? Their circumstances had been dire. Looking back now, knowing how things had played out, her question haunted him.
What would you have had me do differently?
Nothing. As much as he hated to admit it. What other option had she had? None that he could think of. He’d been selfish. He’d been too angry to see past his own hurt to the truth of the situation. She had set aside her own wants and needs to ensure Micah had the best life possible. A life Levi couldn’t have given him.
She had done what she’d had to.
Just as he had to carry on now.
No matter the cost.
A bark echoed through the darkness and his mare snorted in response. He turned toward the sound. “Micah?”
More barking.
Levi kicked his heels against the horse and they headed as swiftly as the deep snow would allow toward the sound. When he reached it, he found Micah huddled against the cold near an old gnarled tree, a lamp bouncing in his hand as he tried to quiet the dog, sending tendrils of light flitting across the white snow.
“Bruce, hush!”
“Too late, son. The jig’s up.”
Micah turned to him, his face set in a stern expression, his ears, nose and cheeks bright red from the cold. “I’m not going home.”
Levi cocked his head to one side. “You plan on sleeping out here tonight?”
He received a militant stare as his answer. Micah was definitely his mother’s son.
“All right, then. You got a bedroll?”
The stare faltered.
“No? Food, then?”
Micah’s mouth turned downward.
“Hmm. Well, sure hope that bear doesn’t come back. You stay safe now.” Levi pulled at the reins and turned his horse around.
“Wait!” Levi smiled but checked it before turning back to face Micah. “Maybe I could come back. I guess. Bruce is kinda cold.”
“Sounds like a smart idea. Sure would hate to find you and Bruce frozen solid by morning. I’d have some explaining to do to your mother if that was the case.”
He held his arms out to take Bruce from Micah, then lifted the boy up to sit in front of him, settling the dog in his lap.
“You ain’t even gonna be there in the morning. I heard you fighting. What she said about you being my real pa.” Micah sniffed and from his vantage point Levi saw his bottom lip wobble. “Is that true? Are you my pa?”
Levi nodded, unsure of how best to answer him. How could he explain? He was well out of his depth and wondered what Ada would do. What she’d say. “I am, Micah. I’m proud as hell about that, too. And I’m not going anywhere.” The truth of the words rang through him. “We’re going to be a family.”
“But you were so angry.”
He gave a little laugh and shook his head. “I expect I was. It was a bit of a surprise, finding out I was your pa. But a good surprise.”
“Why didn’t Ma tell us?”
“Well, that’s a long story and I guess you got a right to hear it, but I think right now the important thing is to get you home out of this cold and let your ma know you’re all right. She’s frightfully worried about you.”
Micah sniffed and nuzzled his face into Bruce’s neck. “Yes, sir.” Then he said, “I’m glad you’re my pa, too.”
Levi smiled and something unfamiliar filled the empty spaces inside him with a warmth he hadn’t thought possible. He pulled Micah tighter against his chest.
“Let’s go home, son.”
Chapter Ten
Ada had never experienced such relief as when she saw the horse come out of the trees and realized there were two riders and not one. She threw open the door and ran outside, heedless of the cold or the fat, fluffy flakes falling from the sky.
“Micah!”
“He’s fine,” Levi called out. He slid from his horse and reached for the boy to help him down. The moment Micah’s feet hit the ground, the boy ran to her. She fell to her knees and wrapped her arms around him and the dog, offering a silent thank-you to the heavens for his safe return. She didn’t even want to imagine what she would have done had Levi not succeeded.
She looked past Micah to the man standing by his horse. “Thank you,” she whispered, but the words seemed inadequate. Despite the trouble between them, he hadn’t hesitated. He’d headed out and brought their son home safely.
He tipped his hat toward her. “I best get this ole mare to the barn. Better take Micah inside and warm him up. I’ll be along shortly.”
Ada directed Micah to the warm fire she’d kept going, needing something to keep her busy while she waited for their return. The cider simmering on the woodstove filled the warm and cozy cabin with a spicy aroma. She poured Micah a mugful.
“Here you go, sweetheart.” She pulled the quilt from the sofa and wrapped it around his shoulders as he sat cross-legged on the braided rug in front of the flames.
“Mmm.” He closed his eyes and took a sip.
She watched her son and wondered where to start. “I suppose I have some explaining to do.”
Micah looked over at her. “It’s all right, Ma. I guess I was a bit mad, but I’m happy, too. Besides, I already knew Harlan wasn’t my pa.”
Her heart stopped. “You did?”
He nodded. “I heard him say it once. Figured that was why he didn’t like me as much as you did. But Levi seems to like me fine, so guess it makes sense he’s my pa, right?”
“I guess so.” Ada couldn’t help smile at the logic of children, how quick they were to accept, unburdened by the judgments and expectations the years hung on you.
Micah took another sip of cider, a thoughtful look spreading across his features. “I think he’ll make a good pa.”
She smiled. “I think so, too.” She always had thought so. It had pained her to watch Harlan’s indifference, knowing that if it had been Levi in his place, it would have been a different story.
The door opened and Levi walked inside, stomping his feet to knock the snow from his boots.
Micah glanced over his shoulder. “Can I call you Pa now?”
Emotion rippled over Levi’s face as he swept the hat from his head and placed it on the hook next to the door. “I think I’d like that.”
Micah nodded, the matter settled. “Good.” He lay down in front of the fire and opened the quilt, motioning for Bruce to crawl inside. The pup eagerly accepted the invitation.
Levi looked at her then, hesitantly, as if unsure whether he should approach or not. She patted the spot on the sofa next to her. “Please.” She wanted him near her. Even now, with Micah home safe, she needed to lean on his strength.
He joined her, sitting close enough for her to feel the cool air that still clung to his body. “Thank you, Levi. I know we have plenty to—”
He reached out and covered her hands with his, shifting slightly to face her. She held her breath, afraid to hope. Something had changed, she could sense it, but what it meant, she had no idea.
“I understand,” he said. “What you did. I get it now. When I was out there looking for Micah, I knew there wasn’t anything I wouldn’t do to bring him home safe and sound. I’d sell my soul to the devil if I had to. Anything.”
His confession seeped through her, traveling through her body until it filled her, wrapped around her heart and squeezed. “Levi.”
She didn’t know where to start. There was so much to say. Too much. She wanted to tell him what she had gone through when she turned away from him. How every day since she’d wished it could have been different. That she had missed him and loved him, craved his smile and laughter and light.
She glanced at Micah, but her son’s—their son’
s—eyes were closed. The day’s events had left him spent. She knew the feeling.
Levi followed her gaze, then squeezed her hand. “Here’s how I see it. At the end of the day, I don’t want to live without you. Or Micah. And I figure if we’ve survived everything else, then we can survive this, too.”
Tears choked her so that she couldn’t speak, only nod.
“Besides, I told Micah we were going to be a family and I’d hate to go back on a promise to my son.”
The words, and the love with which he said them, left her staggered. How she loved this man, how she had always loved him. And would always love him. “I’d like that.”
Levi smiled and lines creased the corners of his eyes that shone in the firelight. “Well, all right then. Guess we should kiss on it, seal it proper. Then maybe tomorrow we can ride back into town and see if the preacher can’t make this union proper, too.”
Marry Levi? Her heart soared. “But tomorrow’s Christmas Eve.”
He nodded. “I know, but you see, I made a Christmas wish, and if I’m going to make sure it comes true, we’re going to need to be married.”
“What was your wish?”
“This.” He smiled and kissed her. His lips were warm and the heat of his touch reached everywhere inside of her, chasing away the darkness and shadows.
“Your wish was a kiss?” She wasn’t complaining. It was a good wish and she’d be happy to make it come true every day for the rest of the days they had together.
He laughed. “My wish was you. And Micah. Being a family.”
She smiled back and touched his face, tracing its lines and angles with the tips of her fingers. How could she be so lucky as to be given this second chance?
“I love you, Levi MacAllistair. Merry Christmas.”
He gathered her in his arms, pulling her close and kissing her again, deeper this time, filling the action with all the promises he’d given once upon a time. It had taken a while, but he’d made good on them in the end. And she intended to do everything in her power to ensure he never regretted his choice, to let him know he was loved truly and completely.
Micah groaned and rolled onto his back, not quite as asleep as Ada had estimated. “Are you guys going to be doing a lot of that kissing stuff?”
Levi smiled, broke their kiss and looked, first at Micah and then at Ada, and the love that gleamed in his eyes gave her his answer. “I sure hope so, son. I sure hope so.”
“I know so,” Ada said, the Christmas wish she’d made every year since the day she’d left Levi to save their son coming true before her very eyes.
This year, it would be a very merry Christmas, indeed. As would all the Christmases to come.
* * * * *
Snowbound
with the
Cowboy
Carol Arens
Author Note
It’s that time of year to make our lists, check them twice, put on our shopping shoes and head to the mall. To wrap the presents and tie up the bows, send out the cards and bake the treats. It’s my Christmas wish that you find a few peaceful moments to relax in a cozy chair with a warm drink and a Christmas story.
Best wishes, and may visions of sugarplums dance in your head.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter One
Wind, cold and piercing, blew up Mary Blair’s skirt. She was mightily tempted to curse the icy nip biting her thighs, but she didn’t hold with cursing...moreover, she was temporarily living at the parsonage.
Staring at the woodpile under the eaves of the stable, she reckoned that if she did give in to the urge to cuss, it would be directed at the absent Reverend Peter Brownstone more than the weather.
As early as this morning it had been clear that a storm was blowing in, and he hadn’t had the foresight to bring the wood to the house and stack it under the covered porch.
Truly, the only thing the man had noticed this morning was his new bride blinking gooey eyes at him.
Looming honeymoon or not, he did have an obligation to the orphans in his care.
And to her, as far as that went, since he had hired her to tend them during the prewedding hoopla and then during his absence.
Well, she’d best be quick about this splintery business. The moon had long since been obscured by heavy clouds and the temperature was dropping as fast as a stone tossed into the well.
And thinking of the well, the besotted Mr. Brownstone had also neglected to haul extra water into the house. What did he think four children were going to drink, ice?
Mary tucked five logs into her apron then crossed the yard. Bent over from the weight, she kept her head up, her gaze focused through the window beside the front door. A great snapping fire danced in the hearth and she yearned for its warmth.
Maybe if she filled her vision with flames, her teeth would quit chattering.
After half an hour’s hard labor, she had managed to tuck a nice pile of wood under the porch roof and cover it with a tarp. Next, she hauled a heavy bucket up the back steps and dumped water into the big kitchen barrel setting beside the stove.
The exertion of trip after trip to the well warmed her some, but not enough to dispel the shiver.
The first snowflake brushed her cheek at the same time as she shoved the lid over the mouth of the well and latched it into place.
A secure covering over the well was the one thing she had insisted upon before taking this job. One could not be too cautious when dealing with little ones.
By the time she reached the porch steps, the ground was dusted in white. By and large, she enjoyed snow, especially this close to Christmas, but it concerned her that old-timers had predicted this to be a great blizzard.
Even though the parsonage was a bare mile outside of town, snowed in was snowed in, no matter the distance.
Swiping the flakes from her coat and the sting of cold from her fingers, she went back into the house.
Warmth wrapped her in a hug and she sighed. A cup of tea would be a nice reward for her work. She would sit by the fire, gaze out the window and watch the snow blow by, feeling content in a rare quiet moment with the children upstairs asleep.
She crossed the parlor, then paused at the kitchen door, looking back at the room. The rectory was a lovely, cozy home. Plenty large enough for the family that the newlyweds had in mind.
Decorated in warm hues of gold, brown and red, it was a place that she had only imagined in her dreams. She was fortunate to be able to live here until the New Year, when the reverend and his wife would return.
On her way to the pantry, she ran her fingers over the long, polished wood table. Maybe someday...one never knew what path life might take.
She drew the pantry door open and reached for the tea. At least the reverend had made sure there was plenty of food for the children, and that the milch cow in the stable had enough feed.
Fifteen minutes later she had changed into her sleeping gown, tied her red plaid robe snug at her waist and was reclining on the big stuffed sofa with her toes toasting in the warmth of the flames.
She waited for the anticipated contentment to flood her, for the peaceful yet exhilarating spirit of Christmas, which was only ten days away, to wrap her in its joy...but then she spotted the letters to Santa on the table beside her.
Knowing what was in those letters kept contentment at bay. She was certain that the reverend had not given the missives a glance. It was up to her to fulfill those wishes, and they were quite beyond her.
Four-year-old Brody wanted a dog. He was certain that Santa had one just for him. Well, strays did wander by on occasion. But if a blizzard was coming, that slim hope would be dashed.
Brody’s twin brother, Caleb, wanted a pa. Even if there were such a
thing as a stray father, the blizzard would keep him away, as well. All she could do for little Caleb was pray that he would thrive without one.
Seven-year-old Maudie wanted a mother. After spending a week with the child, Mary would be happy to take that role. But she wasn’t married and had no home of her own and therefore nothing to offer...except affection. That she would give in abundance for as long as she was here.
Then there was Dan, with a big wish. At ten years old, he wanted a horse. The boy was certain that life would be forever wonderful if he got an equine friend for Christmas.
Sadly, she had only ten dollars to her name. Not nearly enough to purchase a horse and maintain it.
It broke her heart to think of Christmas morning coming, the children clambering down the stairs, their faces glowing with wonder, only to find hand-knit socks instead of a ma, a pa, a dog or a horse.
* * *
Or a baby...that was Mary’s Christmas wish. As long as impossible wishes abounded, she might as well add her own, although she’d never write it down.
Her parents had been told by three doctors not to expect that blessing for her. There had been an accident when she was young—she didn’t remember much of it except that there had been a lot of blood and her mother had cried for a long time.
It had been her father, though, who had prepared her to accept her fate. He’d said he knew what it meant to love a child of one’s own. No man should ever be denied that right. He had done his best to make sure she understood, even before she was of an age to know what he was talking about.
Even dolls had been forbidden to her because he feared that they would nurture the desire for a family.
All her life she’d known she would not be a mother, but that did not keep her from wanting to be. Knowledge did not keep the longing away when she saw a pregnant belly or the heartache when she sat beside a woman nursing her infant...heard the baby’s contented coos.
A gust of wind shook the windowpane and roused her from her self-pity.
Dreaming of a Western Christmas: His Christmas BelleThe Cowboy of Christmas PastSnowbound with the Cowboy Page 19
