Mountain Christmas Brides

by Mildred Colvin

  Natalie hopped up and took hold of Mama’s arm. “Papa must have told you. Mr. Tate was invited for Sunday supper.”

  “You’ll just have to be patient and wait.”

  Natalie darted back to the window. “I hear voices. They’re coming back.”

  “Get away from there and behave yourself. You’ll run poor Mr. Tate off before he has a chance.”

  Natalie sat in the chair across from Mama by the fireplace and opened a book.

  Matthew made a kissing sound.

  Mama pointed at him and whispered rushed words, “We’ll have none of that from you. Just wait until it is your turn. I don’t want to hear a sound from—” Mama turned with a smile to the opening door.

  Natalie looked down to pretend to be engrossed in reading when she saw the horrifying truth. The book was upside down. She closed it quickly and set it in her lap.

  Papa and Mr. Tate stepped inside. Papa gave Mama a slight nod.

  Natalie’s stomach danced.

  Mr. Tate walked over to her with his hands clasped behind his back. “Miss Bollen, would you do me the honor of accompanying me on a stroll?”

  “It would be my pleasure.” She held out her hand, and Mr. Tate helped her to her feet.

  Matthew made a guttural sound almost as though he were choking.

  She would like to choke him.

  Mama said, “Take a shawl. The night air has a chill to it.”

  Natalie took one from a peg beside the door and swung it on. Mr. Tate closed the door behind them then offered his arm to her. She tucked her hand in the crook of his elbow, and he covered her hand with his. Neither of them wore gloves. His hand was warm. Sassy followed along beside them.

  “I spoke to your father tonight.”

  She wanted to jump into his arms, but he hadn’t said what he’d spoken to Papa about. She knew though.

  “I have gained his permission, now I’d like yours.”

  “Yes!” she blurted out.

  He stopped their progress and smiled down at her. “I haven’t even asked yet.”

  “Well then ask, so I can say yes.”

  He started walking again.

  She stopped, and her hand slipped off his arm before he stopped and turned. She planted her fists on her hips. “If you don’t ask me right now, I’ll go back home.”

  He let out a jolly laugh then got serious. “Miss Bollen, may I have the honor of courting you?”

  She let her hands slide off her hips. “I’ll think about it.”

  He folded his arms, and a smile tugged at his lips.

  She wanted to scream yes a thousand times that he could court her. But instead she decided for the ladylike approach. “I believe that being courted by you would be most pleasurable.” She took his arm again.

  He chuckled. “Now can we drop all this formality?”

  She giggled and leaned into his arm. “I’d like that. Now that we’re courting, you can call me Natalie. May I call you Willum?”

  He seemed to think about it. “Hmm. I kind of like you calling me Mr. Tate. It makes you sound obedient.”

  She tried to pull her hand free again, but he held tight and kept her at his side. “You are impossible, Willum.”

  “Well, if you say it like that, I especially don’t like it.”

  In her sweetest, most innocent voice, while batting her eyelashes, she said, “Willum.”

  “I like the sound of that.”

  She turned to face him. “Are you going to kiss me?”

  He gazed down at her. “I’m not sure your father would approve.”

  “He gave you permission to court me. I’m sure he expects it.”

  He caressed her cheek and leaned closer ever so slowly, his breath fanning her mouth a moment before his lips touched hers.

  Her first kiss was better than she’d imagined. Her insides turned to mashed potatoes and her knees to jelly.

  Willum wrapped his arms around her, keeping her up.

  Finally, Willum was hers.

  Willum walked home with a huge smile on his face, a smile he couldn’t seem to tame, not that he really wanted to. He passed the charred ground that had been the church. He needed to do something about getting the construction started. He couldn’t finish the house and the church all at once. And he knew just how to get the extra money they needed.

  Chapter 5

  By the beginning of September, all the funds were in place and construction on the new church could begin. Monday, the first load of lumber would be paid for and delivered to the building site.

  From the kitchen, Natalie studied Mama who looked worriedly at the mantel clock again and again. Supper was always at six. Papa had never been late. Never. He always arrived home well before six. Should they eat or wait? The question on everyone’s mind.

  At a quarter past, David swung on his coat. “I’m going out to look for him.”

  Matthew grabbed his coat, but before he could shove his arms into the sleeves, the door opened. Natalie could see Mama’s whole body relax at the sight of Papa.

  Papa wasn’t smiling. He took off his hat and coat and hung them on a peg by the door. “Mr. Whitworth and I were at the schoolhouse counting the building fund money. A man with a bandana over his face came in with a gun. He took all the money. He tied us up and shoved us in a broom closet.”

  Tears prickled in Natalie’s eyes. Papa had been so excited at the possibility of being in the new church building well before Thanksgiving. Something to be truly thankful for. Now the dwindling congregation wouldn’t have their church back even for Christmas.

  Mama went to Papa and wrapped her arms around him. “I’m so glad you’re safe.”

  Papa held Mama for a moment. “I’m going to eat quickly and walk over to Willum’s and give him the bad news.”

  Natalie stepped through the kitchen doorway. “May I go with you, Papa?”

  “If you wish.”

  Natalie smiled. She’d never seen Willum’s place, just knew he had a cabin outside of town. She would get to see where she’d live after they married, know what kind of curtains she could start making. And if they’d need a rug in the front room by the fireplace. So many plans to make.

  After supper, Natalie left with Papa. She couldn’t wait to see Willum even though they brought bad news. She had seen him yesterday, but she wanted to see him every day. Off the path, Papa headed for a small plank cabin. Her feet dragged. Papa got ahead of her. Her stomach knotted. This couldn’t be where Willum lived. It was too small. He worked hard and long and made a good wage. He was a carpenter. He could build a cabin as large as he wanted with many rooms. This cabin couldn’t be much bigger than her bedroom.

  Papa stopped and looked back. “Don’t dawdle.”

  She quickened her step, and the knot in her stomach tightened.

  Papa knocked on the door.

  Someone else would answer. She was sure of it.

  But Willum opened the door and smiled. “Reverend. Natalie. What brings you out here?”

  Her hands began to shake. She fisted them to make them stop then gripped one in the other, but they still shook. She followed Papa through the doorway.

  Papa removed his hat. “I’m afraid I have some bad news. The building fund was stolen this afternoon.”

  Natalie gazed around the even smaller interior. Two narrow sets of bunk beds lined each side wall with clothes and tools on three of the mattresses. A small table with two three-legged stools, a potbelly stove with Sassy curled up next to it, and a small bookshelf crammed with books made up the rest of the furnishings. One window, no curtain.

  Willum said, “That’s terrible. Who did it? Did they catch him?”

  She faintly heard Papa and Willum’s voices and tried to draw air into her lungs, but they refused to cooperate.

  Papa shook his head. “Mr. Whitworth and I were tied up. We had a terrible time getting free. By the time we did, the man was long gone.”

  She wiped her moist palms down her skirt. Was the room shrinking? She
’d been locked in here before. It hadn’t been her fault.

  The lights began to dim.

  Natalie blinked several times. Papa and Willum looked down on her, their voices muffled. They both looked quite concerned. Suddenly their voices returned.

  Papa’s eyebrows were knitted together. “Are you all right?”

  Willum shook his head. “I think she’s confused.”

  “I’m fine. I’m not confused.” But she was. She just didn’t want to admit it. What was going on?

  Willum pulled on her arm. “Can you sit up?”

  Papa lifted her at her shoulder.

  She wasn’t sitting? Mercy. She was lying down. On Willum’s bunk! Double mercy.

  Not only did she sit up in haste but got to her feet.

  Willum grabbed her arm. “Whoa. You aren’t too steady yet.”

  Papa had hold of her other arm, and she swayed between the two. “Maybe you should sit back down.”

  “No. I’m fine.” The walls moved. Or did they?

  Papa tightened his hold on her arm. “You fainted. You are not fine. Sit.”

  She waved a hand toward the door. “A little fresh air and I’ll be fine.”

  Sucking in the cool night air in several long breaths revived her like a slap and brought her back to her senses. Mostly. She still felt weak-kneed, but she could breathe. She drew in another long breath.

  Papa kept hold of her arm. “If I had known you were feeling ill, I wouldn’t have brought you.”

  Yes, ill. That could be what it was. But she knew better. “I’m sorry, Papa.”

  Willum said, “Should I get a wagon to take her home?”

  “I’ll be fine.” If she said it enough times, maybe she would believe it.

  Chapter 6

  Natalie pulled her shawl tighter around her against the damp air that promised rain as she walked down the opposite side of the street from the house Willum worked on occasionally. Was he there today? She heard no pounding or sawing. The house would be quite nice if he ever finished it. It sat in a semi-prominent location. It would be nothing to the grandeur of the Whitworth home that held the place of prominence. But it had a grandness in its own right.

  No wonder Willum was penniless and lived in a shack. He couldn’t even finish a simple house in a timely manner. He’d finished the roof, put in windows, and painted the outside her favorite color, a cheerful butter yellow. But the porch had not been put on yet—the extravagant wraparound one. And she was sure the inside still needed walls and upper floors.

  He’d managed to complete a building for three businesses in no time with a crew. Why didn’t he hire a crew for this house and be done with it, so the man and his wife could move in? And he could get paid for his work.

  She was sounding petty. She had nothing against people of diminished means. She just didn’t want to be one again. She tried not to think of those black years in her life. She was grateful for all the Lord had given her and didn’t want to lose it. She was selfish and petty.

  And ashamed.

  She hurried on to the mercantile, hoping not to run into Willum. She’d felt too sick for Sunday supper this week and had stayed in her room. But she knew her nausea was from nerves. Though her stomach was a little unsettled again on Wednesday, she forced herself to the table, grateful for the distraction of Abigail. David, of all people, had invited her. He smiled at her all through supper. Smitten beyond belief. She’d felt that way about Willum. Only just last week. She still did, didn’t she?

  The bell over the door jingled. She made a quick scan of the interior and breathed easier. Until she sorted out this gnawing in the pit of her stomach, she would rather not see Willum.

  She quickly gathered the items Mama needed, paid, and stepped out onto the boardwalk. A light mist caressed her face. She wouldn’t be arriving home dry. She had better hurry for many reasons.

  A covered buggy stopped in front of the mercantile. John Seymour smiled at her and jumped down. “Let me get those for you.” He took her parcel and shopping basket, placing them on the floor of his buggy. He held his hand out to her. “It looks like rain. Let me give you a ride.”

  It was an innocent enough invitation. And it did look and feel like rain. Almost drizzling already.

  She stared at his proffered hand then took it. Immediately, a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach told her she’d made the wrong choice. A large round raindrop splattered on the back of her glove, then her cheek and her nose. Instinct—and Mr. Seymour—propelled Natalie into the buggy.

  Mr. Seymour raced around the buggy and jumped aboard, half soaked. He laughed as he shook off some of the rain. “That was close.”

  She laughed, too.

  Her sinking feeling dissuaded for the moment.

  Willum stood in the shadows of the livery, watching Natalie with John Seymour. Laughing. John obviously had no compunction about escorting another man’s girl without his permission.

  He hadn’t thought Natalie flighty. He’d seen her walk into town, stop and gaze at the house, then continue on to the mercantile. He’d watched every graceful step she took, like a hummingbird floating.

  He’d seen the look on her face when she visited his pocket-sized, boxy cabin. He’d never thought she would ever have an opportunity to see it. He’d made his place small to discourage visitors, squeezing in bunk beds for his friends when they came to town from the logging camp. When he’d come to Tumwater, he wanted to be left alone and cloistered himself away to heal. It had worked. As time passed he became more and more involved in the town, looked forward to Wednesday supper with the reverend and his family. Looked forward to young Natalie’s smile and laugh. Now she was laughing for another man.

  He tossed the reins of the surrey he’d rented back to the livery owner. “Here, Ulysses. I won’t be needing this.” He’d planned to escort Natalie home so she wouldn’t get wet.

  Ulysses dug in his pocket.

  Willum waved a hand at him. “Keep it.”

  “But you paid for an hour.”

  Willum turned up the collar on his coat and stepped out into the downpour.

  Natalie sat in a rocking chair by the fire, knitting.

  Mama sat across from her, also knitting. “You’re quiet.”

  She looked up. “Am I?” She’d been lost in her regrets about accepting a ride from Mr. Seymour. He’d been cordial and behaved like a perfect gentlemen, telling her how lovely she looked and how it was his pleasure to escort her home. It hadn’t been a pleasure at all. It had been dishonest.

  “Mama? If you do something and later realize it might have been wrong but no one got hurt or even knows about it, do you still have to tell anyone?”

  “God knows about it.”

  God knows.

  That pricked her heart. “So confession to God would be enough?”

  Mama rested her knitting in her lap and looked straight at her. “If someone else were to find out, would it hurt them?”

  But it was an innocent buggy ride to stay out of the rain. How could that hurt anyone?

  David burst through the door. He held out a wad of cloth. “Would a girl like this?”

  By “a girl” Natalie knew he meant Abigail.

  Mama unwrapped the gift. A hair comb. More than modest but nowhere near extravagant. It had tiny pearls along the front edge. “This is lovely.” She looked up at her son. “You haven’t been courting her long. Are you sure about this?”

  Mama was being nice. David had only asked to court Abigail last week. But he was besotted.

  “Is it too soon?”

  “I think maybe just a bit.”

  David smiled. “Then I’ll hold onto it. But I’ll have it for when the time is right.”

  Natalie held out her hand. “May I see it?”

  David transferred the comb from Mama’s hand to hers like he was entrusting her with a delicate flower that would wilt upon a single breath grazing it.

  A bit of envy pricked Natalie’s heart. David had bought a girl he’d
only just started courting a gift. Willum had never bought her anything.

  The downpour had settled into a steady, gentle rain. Willum had arrived in town three years ago in the rain. It was only fitting that he left that way.

  He’d stopped by the house and collected his tools. He secured a tarp around the top of his open toolbox to keep the rain out. He stuffed the rest of his belongings in his knapsack and tied on his rolled-up blankets and pillow. He glanced around the boxy room, sorry he couldn’t take his books. Closing the door behind him, he set out. He turned to Sassy and slapped his thigh. “Come on, girl.”

  He stopped by Frederick’s and knocked.

  “Come in out of that rain.”

  Willum shook his head. “I don’t want to make a mess of Emma’s floor.”

  Frederick eyed Willum’s knapsack and toolbox. “You’re leaving, aren’t you?”

  He nodded. “It’s time.”

  Frederick lowered his voice. “What about Natalie?”

  “She’s found someone else.”

  Frederick’s mouth fell open. “Can’t be.”

  “She was riding in his buggy. Quite close and laughing.”

  Frederick grabbed his coat from the peg near the door and shoved one arm in. “Who is it? Let’s have a talk with him.”

  Willum shook his head. “I only came to tell you that I left my books at the cabin. They are yours. Please take them.”

  Frederick shook his head. “No. You’ll come back. You have to come back.”

  He’d let his friend believe what he wanted. “Please don’t tell anyone.”

  “Tuck? E.V.?”

  “You can tell them but not any of your wives.”

  Frederick let his coat slide off his arm and onto the floor. “This isn’t the way you should be leaving. Where will you go? Back to Seattle?”

  “Not Seattle. I’ll find someplace. Someplace with no women.” “Where would that be? The North Pole?”

  “Sounds intriguing.”

  Frederick held out his hand. “Let me know when you get settled.”

  Willum shook it and left.

  Chapter 7

  Willum tossed his knapsack on the bed of the boardinghouse. He’d managed to gain Sassy a warm place by the kitchen stove by agreeing to do a few repairs for the woman who ran the place. He was more than happy to help out.