by Nancy Pirri
It was their only chance. Dragging Mark along, both of them coughing, they stumbled into the kitchen again. Annie pulled on the pantry door. The cedar-lined room was stacked with food supplies, free of smoke and fire for the moment. She cleared out a corner, closed the door tight and sank to the floor, pulling Mark down with her.
“Annie?”
She looked down, barely making out the glint of his eyes in the darkness.
“Are we gonna die?”
“No, we’re not.”
Please, God.
The stinging in her eyes subsided and the coughing as well. The pantry door seal at the floor was fairly tight and kept out most of the smoke.
“I’m tired,” Mark complained.
“Then close your eyes and lean against me. We’ll rest a bit.”
As the boy fell asleep, and then her own eyes started closing, she prayed somehow someone would put out the fire, or come for them.
* * * *
“Where are they?” Cane shouted.
“We’ve looked everywhere,” Callahan said, sounding defeated.
No! I won’t lose my family now that I’ve finally found them.
He’d been searching for Annie and Mark himself for what seemed like forever, with no success. He paused and stared at the burning house, knowing it was lost. Could Annie have gone back inside to search for Mark? He prayed she hadn’t, but knowing Annie’s love for the boy exceeded all things, including her safety, he realized he had only one choice but to go inside.
He ran toward the house, whipping around when Callahan called out to him. “Cane! She wouldn’t have gone back inside!”
“I have to see for myself,” Cane replied. His voice was cold and uncompromising. He wouldn’t allow anyone to stop him.
Fire blocked his path through the front door. He ran around to the library window. More fire. He needed something to protect himself, so he returned to the barn. There was a horse trough filled with water that was frozen.
No good, damn!
He paused, feeling the other men’s eyes on him, watching him in silence. Snow would work. He tore a blanket down from a peg and ran back outside. He covered it with the heavy snow, waited a minute, then rubbed the moisture into the wool, hoping it was wet enough to afford him the protection he required.
Whipping the wet blanket around him, he ran to the back side of the house, to the kitchen area. He stood there shivering. When he touched the kitchen doorknob, it was hot. Callahan appeared. “Step back, Callahan,” he said.
He saw smoke and fire inside through the window, but he had to go in. Bracing himself, he flew against the door, dodging to the left and falling to the snow. The damage the fire had already caused weakened it, and it crashed in while a backdraft explosion of heat and flames rushed out.
Fire spread across the kitchen. He heard whimpering then coughing. Whirling around, he followed the intermittent sounds, shouting, “Mark! Annie!”
No reply, but he heard more coughing and followed it until he stopped outside the pantry door. His hand burned when he touched the doorknob, and he pulled it back. “Shit!”
Grabbing a hank of the blanket, he covered his hand and grabbed the knob once more. He yanked it open and, as he stood in the doorway, his heart filled with joy. Mark and Annie sat slumped on the floor against a wall. Praying they were alive, he squatted and checked their breathing.
They were alive! He reached to take Mark, but Annie suddenly opened her eyes—eyes filled with horror.
“You can’t have him! You can’t!” she screamed, hugging Mark close.
She appeared to be awake, but Cane believed she was asleep or in the midst of another premonition.
No time to think or reason with her now!
He wrenched Mark from her arms.
She moaned, “No, no! You can’t take him.”
Not wasting any time with words, Cane backed out of the pantry with Mark. He saw Callahan standing just outside the kitchen door. “Mark, Grandpa’s right outside. Go to him.”
Mark was groggy and ignored Cane’s command, shouting, “Annie! Annie, don’t let him...”
Cane smacked Mark’s cheek and shook him. “It’s me, your Pa, and Grandpa’s here, so go on!”
His shouts and slaps startled but alerted Mark to his surroundings. Confusion filled his face as he stared at Cane. “Pa?”
If a heart could break, it would be his. Damn! His words had slipped out accidentally, and now Mark needed to be told. He prayed Annie wouldn’t be angry, but there was no turning back now.
Urgency prevailed once more. “Get outside now. Grandpa will help you. I’ll help Annie.”
“I don’t have no grampa!” Mark wailed as he tore outside.
Cane returned to the pantry. Annie fought him, screaming in his ear, flailing her arms and windmilling her legs. “Shh, it’s me, darling,” he whispered, trying to hold her against him. “Wake up, damn it.”
She slumped in his arms and tears poured from her eyes as she stared at him unbelievingly.
With a sob, she hugged him. “You were the man in my vision, Cane, only you were trying to save us. The evil I felt was the fire.”
Hauling her into his arms, he strode out of the pantry.
“Later,” he said brusquely. He rushed outside. Mark and Callahan stood with worried faces, watching for them to exit. The sizzling he’d heard earlier happened again, and Cane snatched Mark up in his arms and hauled Annie along with him.
“Run!” he called to Callahan.
Callahan came behind and helped Annie. Together, they ran across the yard to the barn, then stopped and saw the house walls crumble and the roof tumble inside, the timber creating more tinder for the fire.
Annie sobbed. “Our house! Oh, Father, what are we going to do? And our possessions—all gone.”
Callahan swiped soot from his face. “But we have our lives, every one of us, and that’s a blessing.”
Annie shivered as tears streamed down her cheeks. Cane stood beside her, his arms around her. “Honey, we have to go into town. Hopefully, Kate can find room for us at The Sapphire Palace.”
Teeth chattering, Annie nodded. All of them loaded up into two wagons and headed for Bozeman. The road was packed with snow, rough and uneven, but thankfully, the storm had passed. By the time they arrived outside The Palace, they were all frozen. Cane was worried about Annie and Mark since neither of them had any feeling in their fingers and toes.
James rushed out of the saloon and, without a word, hustled them inside. James and Kate made room for all of them. Callahan’s hands had their own rooms at The Palace, to which they retired in exhaustion.
When Mark was resting, Cane sat with Annie. “You can cry, honey,” he said softly, kissing her thawing fingers.
She sniffed. “I don’t want to scare Mark.”
“Mark had all of us hovering over him to keep him warm as we could. He’s fine.”
Annie nodded and allowed a few tears to streak down her cheeks. She closed her eyes and leaned back against the divan in Kate’s parlor. Exhaustion unlike any she’d ever felt overwhelmed her. She snuggled into his strong, safe arms, felt herself being lifted but was too tired to respond. Warm blankets covered her, and she fell asleep.
She wakened in the dark of the night, crying out even as another vision came to her. She was staring out the library window in her home, watching in horror as Jed Porter poured liberal streams of kerosene over the ice and snow, then struck a match.
She screamed in time with the first explosion and sat up straight in her bed. Cane was there and pulled her into his arms from where he sat beside her.
James burst into the bedroom and stood in the doorway. “What happened?”
“Annie had a vision, that’s all, or maybe a nightmare,” Cane replied.
“No!” Annie looked between the two of them. “I have always had the visions before an event happened. This time, I experienced it afterwards. Jed Porter set the fire at our house, James. I saw him!”
F
rowning, James moved closer to her. “You saw him where? When?”
“In the vision, yes, but I saw him when we were back there, after we got out of the burning house. I saw him escaping on his horse, but I couldn’t dwell on it. I had to look for Mark,” she said, “In my vision, just a second ago, he set the fire. N-No one actually saw him set the fire, though, so it’ll be his word against mine, won’t it?”
“Afraid so,” James said, “but I believe you and your visions. You may think of it as a curse, but honey, it’s a gift. It truly is. Of course, it would help if we can find some evidence or proof since folks don’t want to believe in your “gift.” Try and get some more sleep.”
“I saw a kerosene can by the barn—it wasn’t one of ours. Oh, what in the world is wrong with Jed? My God, we’ve been friends forever! How could he do something so awful? I can’t believe how much hatred he has for me,” she sobbed.
Cane knelt beside her. “He was in love with you, Annie, and sometimes love can make people do awful things, especially when they realize their love isn’t reciprocated. Mostly, though, love is the most wonderful thing that can happen to a person. I know, because I’ve found love with you, sweetheart.”
He took her into his arms then and held her as she cried.
* * * *
The following morning, Cane, James and his two deputies rode out to retrieve the gas can Annie mentioned, then went to question Jed. Ironically, he had no witnesses to vouch for his whereabouts last evening. Even his ranch hands confessed to not knowing. The gas can matched several others in his barn. James brought him in and locked him up, saying Jed could rot jail until the circuit judge came to town. Arson was a serious crime, and he intended on forcing a confession out of the man.
James conferred with Cane’s testimony of having heard Jed’s fury and complaints to others in town that Miss Annie hadn’t accepted his marriage proposal, instead choosing to marry a criminal. Of course, he’d already had to put Jed in jail once because he couldn’t accept that Annie didn’t want him.
One of the deputies noticed snow prints in the fresh fallen snow, trailing from Jed’s front door to the Callahan’s spread. The prints were an identical match to Jed’s boots. A confession wouldn’t be needed after all.
That night, Cane, Mark and Annie sat at Kate’s dining room table with her family and ate beef stew and cornbread, a moroseness filling the air.
Cane noticed Mark’s typically upbeat disposition wasn’t so happy. “What’s the matter, son?” he asked.
“We don’t have no house no more, no clothes—nothing—but you know what’s really bad? The best Christmas tree we ever had is gone.”
Kate patted Mark’s hand. “Christmas will still happen. Only you’ll be celebrating with us, here, if that’s all right with you.”
Mark nodded and swiped self-consciously at a stray tear.
Callahan took Mark onto his lap as the boy sobbed harder. “James, Kate,” Callahan said, “We can’t thank you enough for taking us in. But it might be a while longer than you think since the soonest we can start building a house is spring.
Kate laughed. “I’d love the company. So would James. And we will enjoy the merriest of Christmases together.”
“Mark,” Callahan said, “we need to talk with you about something else.”
Kate and James wisely left the dining room to allow them privacy.
Mark’s eyes widened on Callahan. “He said you were my grampa! I told him I ain’t got no grampa, just you. You’re my pa!”
Cane saw the sorrow in Callahan’s eyes and stepped in to help. “Mark? You know you were adopted when you were a baby.”
“Yup. Pa said my ma died.”
“She did. I loved your ma—a lot. I made my way from Texas to Bozeman every year, driving cattle, and met your ma here. When I left for Texas again, I had planned on it being the last time ’cause I asked your ma to marry me. She would have if she hadn’t died right after you were born. Then I got into some trouble in Texas and couldn’t return—until I came earlier this year. I didn’t know anything about you being born for a long time. I had no idea I had a son, but as soon as I did learn, I came right here. I want you to live with me ’cause you’re my son. We look a lot alike. You said so, remember?”
Mark started crying. Between the tears, his voice trembled. “But I don’t wanna live with you! I wanna live with Pa and Annie.”
Annie said, “Mark, you know me and Cane are getting married soon. Cane...your pa...asked Grampa to live with us. We’ll build a big house, and we’ll all be together. You’ll have all of us, all of the time. How does that sound?”
Relief flooded Mark’s face. “Real good,” he said, wiping the tears on his cheeks with his shirtsleeve.
Cane smiled. “You don’t have to call me Pa, at least not until you get used to me. I’m hoping you learn to like me soon, son.”
“I do like you, Mr., uh...Pa.”
Cane’s heart lurched at the shy look on his son’s face.
“I love you, Mark. I feel real bad I missed out on so much of your life. I plan on making up for all that lost time.”
Annie took his hand and he turned to her. “And, God willing, I hope we have children, brothers and sisters for you, son.”
“Holy cow! I always wanted a brother! No sisters though,” Mark said, his eyes pleadingly looking at Annie then Cane.
“But you love Melanie, don’t you? She’s a girl,” Annie said.
“Yeah, she’s okay,” the boy said grudgingly.
“Sorry, son, only God is in control of that, not us.”
On December 20th, Cane and Annie were married in the First Lutheran Church in Bozeman. Kate gave her friend her own wedding gown to wear. To Cane’s mind, as Annie walked down the aisle toward him, he believed she’d look every bit as beautiful wearing a potato sack.
The wedding feast was sumptuous. Cane couldn’t recall ever having eaten so much and so well.
By nine o’clock that evening, Cane was growing weary of the guests that still lingered.
At ten, James took Cane’s silent hint and proceeded to escort folks out of The Sapphire Palace.
By eleven, Cane finally got to make love to his new bride.
* * * *
Later that evening, Annie lay beside her husband. She sighed, thinking how wonderful love was. She wore only her white silk stockings and frilly garters. Cane had insisted she keep them on, saying how they fired his blood. She grinned into his chest as heat stole through her body. It had fired more than just his blood and hers.
“You are a wonderful husband, Cane, and I can hardly wait for us to build our house together and raise our children there.”
Cane’s eyes filled with tears. “I love you, Annie Smith. Never forget it.”
“I won’t,” she said and kissed him again, cementing their promises to each other.
“Do you foresee a happy future for us, Mrs. Annie Smith?”
She closed her eyes and concentrated, tormenting him just a little. Slowly, she replied, “Yes, I envision the happiest future anyone could have.”
“I’ve found heaven, a reason for living, with you, my son, and any other children God gives us. This Christmas of 1888, I’ll remember with perfect clarity for the rest of my life.”
“So will I, my love.” Giving him an innocent little smile, she said, “I think I’m through talking. For now.”
“What about screaming? Bet I can make you scream.”
“You can’t, you won’t!” she said on a giggle.
Pressing against his chest, she tried levering herself up off him, but he wouldn’t allow it. She relaxed after he gently kissed her neck. “Well, perhaps a little scream or two would be okay.”
She heard him chuckle as he rolled them over until she was beneath him—exactly where she wanted to be.
THE END
About the Author
Nancy Schumacher is the publisher of Melange Books, LLC, writing under the pseudonyms, Nancy Pirri and Natasha Perry. She is a m
ember of Romance Writers of America, and one of the founders of the Minnesota RWA chapter, Northern Lights Writers (NLW).
www.nancypirri.com
www.facebook.com/NancyPirriAuthor
Short Stories by the author
To Love a Music Master in Christmas Collectibles Anthology
Amy’s Gift in Holiday Treats Anthology
Wishes and Kisses in Summer Sensations Anthology
To Tame a Gambler in Western Ways Anthology
Riding Blue Steel
When Maggie Loved Patrick...then John
Novels by the author
Bait Shop Blues
A Little Holiday Magic, author anthology
Make Me Behave with Tara Fox Hall
Ruined Hearts, writing as Natasha Perry
Coming Soon!
The MacAulay Bride (reissue)
The Grayton Christmas Supper Contest
by Charmaine Pauls
To my South African family
The Grayton Christmas Supper Contest
The trouble in Grayton, a small town in the Western Cape of South Africa, started with the Christmas turkey. This is what Susanna van der Merwe argued. She blamed everything that happened the Christmas of 1910 on the English woman who insisted on the foreign habit. Since love was blind, Susanna saw it her God given duty to point out her daughter-in-law’s flaws to her son.
Susanna waited until boetie Hendrik had crossed the yard. She stopped churning the milk and wiped her brow with her apron. “A month before Christmas... You and your father mustn’t wait too long for the hunt. I need the springbok at least two weeks before to ripen the meat. You know fresh game has a wild taste to it.”
“Yes, Ma.” Hendrik dipped a drinking spoon in the water bucket and drank in gulps.
“If your wife needs help with a dish, tell her to put her pride in her pocket and come talk to me. A terrible sin, pride. It’s her English manners that makes her think she’s better than us Boers.”
