Mountain Christmas Brides

by Mildred Colvin

  Jared rolled over and tried to find a comfortable position on the cold board floor. Patricia’s attitude was very important to him. More than anything, he wanted her to forgive his father. Unless she did that, she probably wouldn’t welcome Jared back into her life. And he wanted to be in it. He’d come back to Colorado to stay. If the Logans wouldn’t welcome him, life could be miserable. His last waking thought was the beginning of a garbled prayer. Lord, let her forgive us … and let Bill accept Chief.

  Patricia awoke in a dim gray room. Someone was moving about. She opened her eyes and pushed the blankets aside and saw an old woman dipping hot water from a kettle on the stove into a dented blue coffeepot.

  Of course. Annie, the midwife. The cabin. The storm.

  It came back in a rush. She sat up and looked around the small room. Jared must be outside. She pushed back the covers and noted that the cabin had stayed toasty warm all night.

  Annie glanced up at her. “Come on down and make your ablutions before that feller comes back. Did you say he’s Rupert Booker’s boy?”

  “That’s right. Jared.” Patricia grasped the edge of the bunk and slid down, landing with a thump on the floor.

  Annie went about preparations for breakfast while Patricia quickly took her skirt from the bedpost and pulled it on over her petticoat.

  “Still snowing, I take it.” She looked toward the nearest window, but frost coated it.

  “Yup. Doesn’t look like stopping now.”

  The wind moaned about the eaves, and the stovepipe shivered where it met the wall. The door opened, and Jared kicked his boots against the top step before entering. Even so, he brought a great deal of snow in with him. He stood a long-handled shovel against the wall by the door and pulled off his gloves.

  “Good thing they left that shovel in the lean-to. I didn’t see it last night.”

  “How deep is the snow?” Patricia asked.

  “Past my waist. About up to the window ledges, I guess. Of course, it’s drifted in around the buildings. Took me awhile to make my way out to the horses, but we’ve got a path now, provided the wind doesn’t throw all the snow I’ve shoveled back into it. How much water have we got, Annie?”

  “Enough for one bucket full.” Annie lifted one pail off the stove. “Bring me back some more, and I’ll melt it for the other critter.”

  “How many buckets of snow does it take to make a bucket of water?” Patricia asked. The process seemed painfully slow with their few containers.

  “Four or five, I reckon.” Jared took the pail from Annie.

  “Coffee and hot porridge will be ready in about half an hour,” Annie told him.

  Jared went out once more into the swirling storm.

  “What can I do to help you?” Patricia asked. The old woman nodded toward the shelf on the wall above the table. “Pick out something to go with this porridge. I reckon there’s a little brown sugar in that small crock, and the canned fruit doesn’t seem to have frozen.”

  “Aunt Edna’s applesauce!” Patricia reached eagerly for a pint jar on the shelf. “I helped her put this up last fall, and we sent a few jars out to each of the line shacks.”

  “Bless her for thinking of it.” Annie plunked three tin plates on the table. “I reckon we’ve got food for another three or four days. A week if we go half rations.”

  Patricia stood still and stared at her. “Do you think we should do that?”

  “No guarantee we’ll be able to get out of here sooner. This storm ain’t over yet, and no one knows we’re out here.”

  “But … Aunt Edna and the baby …”

  Annie patted her shoulder. “There, now. Don’t think about that. It’s not like she’s alone. She’s got your uncle Bill and a dozen cowboys.”

  “But Uncle Bill’s never delivered a baby. Not a human baby, anyway.”

  “Just pray, child. It’s all we can do.”

  Patricia recognized her wisdom and prayed silently as she finished setting the table.

  After Jared had filled all their empty pails and kettles with snow and brought in several more armfuls of wood, they sat down together to eat.

  “So what brings you back to Colorado after all these years?” Annie asked Jared. “I thought your pa moved you down to Mexico.”

  “Southern Texas,” Jared said. “Well, you see, ma’am, my father died about three weeks ago.”

  Patricia caught her breath. “Jared, you didn’t tell me.”

  “I wanted to.” His brown eyes filled with contrition. “It didn’t seem like the right time when we were at the livery stable, and then we had all we could do to deal with the storm.”

  “I’m so sorry to hear about Uncle Rupert.”

  “Well, thanks.” Jared picked up his tin cup and looked down into his steaming coffee. “It’s because of his passing that I’m here.”

  “What do you mean?” Annie asked.

  Jared looked at her and smiled grimly. “Before my father died, he wrote a will, and in it he left the stallion I’ve got out there in the lean-to—Chief, we call him—to Bill Logan. I’m here to deliver the bequest.”

  Patricia gaped at him. “But why would Rupert send a horse to Uncle Bill?”

  “Weren’t they friends in the old days?” Annie asked.

  “Well, yes. But they had a big fight, were so angry that they split up their friendship. Uncle Rupert took Jared and left us.” Patricia felt the heat rise above her collar, into her cheeks. Uncle Bill had fumed about the situation for years. He still got riled up whenever anyone mentioned Rupert. She rounded on Jared. “He and Uncle Bill had worked together twenty years. But that didn’t count with your father. He tore our family apart.”

  “Trisha, you know we’re not really related.”

  “You can say that if you want to. When I came to this ranch, I was all alone. Uncle Bill and you and your parents were the only family I knew. Then your father started chasing that pesky stallion. Uncle Bill told him to stop, but he wouldn’t. And after he finally caught it, he packed up and took you away.” Tears filled her eyes, and she turned her face away. He didn’t understand at all. Apparently the rift hadn’t affected Jared nearly as deeply as it had her. It was almost as if a married couple had two children and one left, taking one child, while the other kept the second child. Patricia had lost her own parents early. Losing Uncle Rupert and Jared had been a second bereavement for her. Even though she knew Uncle Bill loved her to distraction, his awkward attempts at fatherhood couldn’t make up for her sorrow and the wounds of abandonment that Rupert’s defection had left.

  She glared at him. “If your father hadn’t insisted on chasing that wild stallion and spending all his time and money on horse racing, we’d still be a family.”

  Jared stared at Trisha. He wanted to deny the things she said, but he couldn’t. He’d felt the sting of his father’s actions himself. But he’d learned to live with the situation and become accustomed to their new life. He saw the good things about it and enjoyed helping his father raise and train horses. But he could not refute her argument that his father’s pursuits had put the Logan ranch in danger and made life more difficult for Trisha and Bill Logan. How many times had he asked himself what would have happened if his father had stayed out of horse racing?

  “Trisha,” he said gently.

  She looked up at the sound of her name. Would she listen if he told her how he had suffered as well and gave her his perspective on the changes he had undergone? He cleared his throat.

  “You’re right about a lot of things. I know that you were hurt when we left the ranch. And I know your uncle was more than just angry. He was hurt.”

  “How do you know that?” Her blue eyes glinted like cold steel. “How do you know what we felt?”

  Jared set down the coffee and inhaled deeply. “Because I was hurt, too. I didn’t want to leave. I had no desire to go into horse racing then, but we did it. We left here with a fast stallion and a half dozen decent mares. My father built his racing stable from the ground
up. I’ve worked for Pa these ten years. But I never liked the racing life. And I told my father that. I told him I didn’t want to stay in it.”

  “What’d your pa say to that?” Annie stood and reached for the coffeepot and refilled her cup.

  “He didn’t like it. But he knew that was what began the trouble between him and Bill. Pa wanted to go into horse racing, but Bill preferred sticking with cattle ranching. Pa didn’t see much future in the ranch. After twenty years, they still hadn’t made good, at least not in my pa’s eyes.” Jared took a sip of his cooling coffee and went on. “My mother’s family, the Contreras, are established in Mexican horse racing, and his brother-in-law—my uncle Manuel—tried for a long time to get Pa to go down there and get into racing.”

  “I never knew that.” Trisha wiped her eyes with her hand and sniffed. “You mean, after your mother died in ‘02?”

  “Yes, but before that, too. I don’t think Mama wanted to do it. She liked the ranch, and she liked being with you and Uncle Bill. She felt Bill was a stable influence in my father’s life. Despite her family’s leanings, she had a calm nature. She saw her brothers get mixed up in a lot of devilment, and she didn’t want to see Pa get into it.”

  Patricia seemed to mull that over while she sipped her coffee. “I recall when your father caught that wild stallion. He wanted to race him.”

  Jared nodded. “He took him to the fair in Denver, and he won.”

  Trisha nodded, her eyes wide and thoughtful. Annie ate her breakfast quietly, but Jared could tell she hadn’t missed a word.

  “My pa wanted to breed the stallion to some of the ranch mares, but Bill refused to let him. The horse was ugly and ornery, it was true. Your uncle said the only thing he was good for was running, and his colts wouldn’t make good cow ponies.”

  “I didn’t know all that,” Trisha admitted. “I knew they fought at the last and that Rupert wanted to race, but Uncle Bill never told me the details.”

  “Well, I guess they realized at last that they had different dreams, so they split up. Pa took the wild stallion and moved us to Texas. Uncle Manuel lived about fifty miles away, just over the border. He encouraged Pa to race, and pretty soon we started racing the stallion and other horses at the tracks in Texas and Mexico.”

  “Did you win?” Annie asked.

  “Sometimes. That wild stallion had speed and heart. His earnings set my father up pretty well. And Pa bred him to a lot of mares.” Jared chuckled and shook his head. “The colts were all ugly, but they were fast.”

  “Well, that colt you’re bringing Uncle Bill isn’t ugly,” Trisha said. “He must not be the wild one’s offspring.”

  “But he is.” Jared leaned forward and looked into her sober eyes. “He’s a grandson of the wild one, Trisha. Pa bred the stallion to a beautiful Arabian mare and got a fast mare that didn’t look too bad. He went another generation, breeding her to a thoroughbred stallion, and Chief was the result. Finally he got a colt without the Roman nose and stubby ears.”

  “Can he run?” Annie asked.

  They both laughed, but Trisha’s eyes still held that wary, defiant glint.

  “Yeah,” Jared said. “I think he can. But we haven’t raced this one. Not yet.”

  “But why did your pa leave Chief to Uncle Bill?” Trisha asked.

  “I’m not sure, exactly.” Jared sat back. This was a question he had wrestled with on his trip north.

  “Probably just to prove his point to Uncle Bill that he was right all along and racing paid off.”

  Jared’s jaw clenched. “That’s a pretty mean thing to say.”

  “Well, leaving us alone was a pretty mean thing to do.”

  “Yeah? Well, just ‘cause you’re still mad at Pa, doesn’t mean you should yell at me.”

  They both shoved their chairs back and stood on opposite sides of the table.

  Trisha’s eyes snapped blue fire. “Who’s yelling at whom?”

  “You are!”

  Annie whacked the table with her spoon. “Here, now! You two pups settle down and quit your barking at each other. I thought I was stuck here with two adults, but it seems I was wrong.”

  A wave of shame washed over Jared, immediately followed by a splattering remnant of anger. How could he have imagined that Trisha had become a refined, sweet, and gentle woman? She was as stubborn and ornery as she’d been at twelve.

  Chapter 6

  The next morning dawned gray and quiet. At first Patricia thought the snow had stopped, but when Jared opened the door to go to the lean-to, she realized it was still falling hard. The little cabin was nearly buried in it, and for that reason, the wind no longer buffeted the walls.

  “Looks like my path has a foot or more of new snow in it,” Jared observed. “It’s drifted on the far end, near the lean-to. I’d best clear it before I take the water out.” He reached for the shovel and went outside.

  Trapped. Patricia threw a bleak glance at Annie, but the old woman calmly went about preparing their breakfast. Remorse tugged at Patricia’s conscience, and she hurried to help.

  When the three of them sat down together to eat it later, Annie asked a blessing.

  “Lord above, You’ve stuck us here, and we don’t know why. But You do, so that’s good enough. Thank You for these vittles. Amen.”

  Jared and Annie picked up their spoons and plunged them into their portions of oatmeal. Trisha noted that Annie had prepared less of the porridge than she had yesterday. Instead of opening a jar of fruit, they’d added a few raisins to the oatmeal. That and coffee was all they would eat until noon. If they could tell when it was noon. None of them had a watch, and the dim light that reached them through the windows was barely enough to get by with, but they’d agreed the night before to save the lamp oil as much as possible, and so they sat in the twilight.

  Patricia cleared her throat. Annie kept eating, but Jared glanced up at her, an uneasy frown touching his mouth and eyes.

  “I want to apologize for the mean things I said about your father yesterday, Jared. I mean … about the horse racing and … and his character in general. I loved you and your father. I admit I was repeating things I heard Uncle Bill say in his worst moments. I shouldn’t have done that. Will you forgive me?”

  Jared’s dark eyes softened. He laid down his spoon. “Trisha, I believe Pa missed Bill—and you, too—after we left Colorado, and I think he hoped someday he could reconcile with Bill.”

  “You do?”

  Jared nodded. “Pa enjoyed his life in Texas, but that fight with Bill bothered him all these years. When he became ill and suspected he would die, he talked to me about the business. I’d told him before that I didn’t want to stay in horse racing, but Pa had hoped I’d change my mind. But at the end, he could see that I hadn’t. After he got sick, he sold the racing stable.”

  “Well now,” said Annie.

  Patricia just stared at Jared, feeling more miserable than before.

  Jared picked up his tin cup, looked at it, and set it down. “I inherited a large sum of money, because Pa had done well the last few years. I came here for two reasons. To bring Chief to your uncle and to look around for a place of my own.”

  “You want to stay in Colorado?” Patricia asked, a surge of hope rising in her.

  He nodded. “That’s my dream. A ranch of my own, near where I grew up. I’ve always remembered the Logan ranch, and that’s where my heart is. I want to live in this area and raise cattle.”

  Patricia sighed. “I wish you success, Jared. And … welcome back.”

  “Thank you.”

  Annie leaned over and snaked her arm out to reach the coffeepot off the stove. “Seems to me you’re tenacious enough to make your dream come true, boy.”

  Jared smiled, and Patricia’s heart lifted just looking at him. There was the boyish Jared, the optimistic, confident Jared.

  “I hope so, Annie. But there was one thing that’s always been more important to me than where I lived or what I did for a living. That was my drea
m of seeing my father receive Christ.”

  Annie clucked in sympathy and refilled his coffee cup. “Did it happen?”

  Jared glanced over at Patricia, his face somber once more. “You know your uncle Bill led me to Christ when I was a little boy.”

  Patricia ducked her head. “Yes. I’d almost forgotten that.”

  “Your uncle is a good man, Trisha. I’ve always been grateful. And I witnessed to my pa many times, right up to his death, but so far as I know, he never believed.”

  Patricia felt her heart soften and melt. How could she have been angry with Jared because of things his father did so many years ago? She had been unjust and immature in her judgment of him. Tears sprang into her eyes. She reached over and grasped his wrist gently. “I’m so very sorry, Jared. I acted despicably yesterday.”

  He closed his hand over hers and gave her fingers a squeeze. “Forgiven. All forgiven.”

  Even Annie’s eyes glistened.

  Patricia reluctantly pulled her hand away and fumbled in her pocket for a handkerchief. “Perhaps we could pray together this morning. For our safety, and for Aunt Edna and the baby.”

  “A good idea.” Annie nodded. “You start, boy.” She sniffed and wiped her eyes with her sleeve.

  That afternoon, Jared allowed Patricia to brave his path with him to the lean-to and help him feed and water the horses. The snow was now shoulder-high to him on each side of the path, and as high as Patricia’s head, so they were able to reach the horses while staying out of the fierce wind.