Mountain Christmas Brides

by Mildred Colvin

  The blowing continued, but by evening, Jared was sure the snow had stopped falling, though the gale still flung the loose stuff on the surface all about.

  On a top shelf, Annie discovered a board marked off in squares and a tin containing dark and light rounds of wood. Half were charred, half were not, and she immediately recognized the primitive checkers game. This welcome diversion helped them pass the hours in the cramped cabin, and they used some of their precious lamp oil to continue the play into the evening hours.

  The next morning they awoke eager to do something—anything—to free themselves from their prison. The storm had ended, and the sun sparkled on the snow. Jared climbed on what was left of the woodpile and surveyed the range. The dips and slopes of Bill Logan’s south forty kept him from seeing more than half a mile, but he knew exactly in which direction the house lay. Two miles. So close.

  He wondered if they would be able to dig out. The snow had drifted deep around the shack, but perhaps out on the open rangeland, it was not so deep. The wind had surely scoured some of the accumulation away. Was it best to wait for the sun to do its work and compact the snow? He glanced toward the lean-to, where Chief and Patches were snuffling their morning ration. They had already ingested most of the hay, and the oat barrel wouldn’t hold out longer than two or three more days.

  He climbed down and went to the door, kicked the snow off his boots, and went inside. Annie and Patricia looked toward him expectantly.

  “I think I could make it to the ranch house by riding across the range.”

  Patricia’s jaw dropped. “Isn’t the snow over my head?”

  “Not in the open. It’s probably still belly-deep to a horse in most places, but I think Patches could do it. Chief might panic if he got mired in a drift, but Patches is steady. I think I should try. If I can even get within sight of the house, maybe I can get their attention.”

  Annie’s eyes glittered as he spoke. “You don’t have a gun, do you?”

  “No.”

  “Well, too bad. But you can take some tinder and a few matches and start a fire. They might see that. Then they could take that workhorse team of Bill Logan’s and break trail out here to get us.”

  “I don’t know if they’d be able to do that yet,” Jared said. “But they could bring me some snowshoes, at least. We can walk out if we have snowshoes.”

  “Well, come on, then,” Annie said. “Let’s pack up your gear.”

  “Travel light, for Patches’s sake,” Patricia said. “Dress warmly, but don’t carry anything you won’t need.”

  They argued good-naturedly over what he might need and what his chances were of making it through or getting stuck somewhere between the cabin and the ranch house.

  Annie insisted he take a small amount of food in his pockets, and Patricia carefully packed his fire-making supplies in a saddlebag while he layered on his extra shirt and socks.

  “Hey.” Patricia’s head jerked up, and she looked toward the door. “Did you hear that?”

  Jared and Annie stopped what they were doing and listened. Sure enough, Jared heard what sounded like a muffled shout.

  He threw the door open and dashed outside. Climbing on the woodpile, he looked out over the range and whooped.

  Three cowboys from the Logan ranch wallowed through the snow a hundred yards out, riding the big draft horses Bill used to haul hay wagons in summer and logs for firewood in winter.

  “Hey!” Jared waved his hat in the air. A yodeling call from one of the men answered, and another of the cowboys fired a rifle into the air.

  “How many people you got?” came the faint cry.

  “Three,” Jared shouted. “We’ve got the midwife.”

  The three men seemed to consult and changed course, heading the big horses toward the cabin. The largest took the lead, but the snow was up to his breast, and he tired quickly. After a few yards, the next horse moved ahead and broke trail for a few yards.

  Jared hopped down from the woodpile and ran inside.

  “It’s men from the Logan ranch. Put your woolies on, ladies! We are leaving here before you know it.” He seized the shovel and ran out to carve a way out of the drifts around the buildings. By cutting into the side of his path, he hoped he could move enough powder so Chief and Patches could work their way up to the level of the draft horses and follow their messy trail home.

  In no time, Patricia had her boots, coat, scarf, hood, and gloves on. She hurried outside. Jared was throwing shovelfuls of snow as fast as he could out of the recess he’d dug earlier.

  “Where are they?”

  He raised his head and stood on tiptoe to look. “Just up the knoll. Fifty yards now.”

  “What can I do to help?”

  “Go throw the blankets and saddles on the horses. The bridles and saddlebags are inside. We can be ready by the time they reach us.”

  “Those men will want to warm up and have a cup of coffee,” Patricia said. “I’ll tell Annie.” She ran inside and returned carrying the two bridles and Patches’s saddlebags. “Annie’s putting on some flapjacks. She says their horses will be exhausted and need to rest a bit.”

  Jared straightened and looked again. “She’s right about that. It’s heavy work for them. But we can give them some melted snow and a small ration of oats.” He stomped the snow underfoot and realized he could walk up his enlarged pathway now. Soon he stood, from the waist up, above the higher level of the snow, looking out across the surface. The low point of the path, at the cabin’s doorstep, was five feet below him. He waved to the cowboys, who were now within easy talking distance.

  “Did you say you’ve got old Annie there?”

  “Yup. She was trying to get to Miz Logan and got snowed in here.”

  “Hallelujah,” the man shouted back. “We was headed down to her place in the holler. Miz Logan thinks today’s the day!”

  Jared turned and called to Patricia, who was inside the lean-to, “Did you hear that, Trish?”

  “No, what?”

  “These men were on their way to fetch Annie. Miz Logan says it’s time for the baby.”

  Patricia came to the opening of the lean-to. “Oh, Jared! We’ve got to hurry. Annie needs to be there.”

  “We’re working as fast as we can,” he replied.

  Behind him, the door opened. “I heard that,” Annie said. “I’ve got our clothes and such all packed up.”

  Patricia took a few steps toward her along the snow-walled path. “Annie, what if we don’t get there in time?”

  “Don’t worry, child. First babies take their time gettin’ here. Still, we won’t lollygag none.”

  The man on the lead horse called to Jared, “The snow’s getting deeper. I don’t think we should bring the horses any closer.”

  “No, don’t,” Jared told him. “It’s a good five feet deep here near the cabin. Just let them rest, and I’ll shovel the last few yards out to you. We’ve got oats and a little melted snow they can have. And Annie’s got hot coffee and flapjacks inside.”

  “Sounds good,” the man said.

  Jared squinted at him. “Aren’t you Joe Simmons?”

  “Yup. Do I know you?”

  “I’m Jared Booker.”

  Joe’s face broke into a toothy grin. “Well now! Welcome back, sonny.”

  Patricia scrambled up beside Jared, floundering through the snow, and he reached out a hand to boost her.

  “I knew he’d remember you,” she said.

  Joe’s mouth opened and his eyes flared. “Is that you, Miss Trish? What on earth are you doing here? Your uncle was sure you’d used your head and stayed in Denver with that school chum of yours.”

  “Well, it’s a good thing he didn’t know otherwise, or he’d have worried about me.”

  “Can’t believe you’ve got Annie here. That’ll save us a good two hours or more. We’re not even halfway to Annie’s place. I wasn’t sure these nags could make it that far, but the boss said to try.”

  Another cowboy added, �
�We saw your smoke from the stovepipe here and figured some poor soul got caught out in the blizzard.”

  Patricia laughed. “Three poor souls. And we’re mighty glad to see you.”

  Joe hopped down from his horse and staggered to his feet, waist deep in snow. “Let me come help you shovel, Jared. You must be tuckered out.”

  Half an hour later, they set out with the strongest draft horse in the lead. Annie went next on Patches, at Jared’s insistence.

  “And if we get to where the path is easygoing, Miss Annie, you just go right on ahead and ride up to the ranch house,” he told her. “We’ll follow as quick as we can.”

  The other two workhorses fell in behind Patches, with Trisha riding double behind Joe Simmons. Jared brought Chief along last, hoping the trail would not be too hard for the colt after the bigger horses had trampled it twice. The going was slow, and the horses soon dragged their feet, but they kept on with lowered muzzles.

  Before long, they could see the ranch house, and shortly afterward they entered a pasture where the cattle had trampled down the snow. A herd of about a hundred head huddled together where the hired men had thrown hay for them that morning. Annie broke away from the line of horses and loped Patches across the field toward the house.

  Soon they were all on better footing. Jared sighed with relief when they reached the barnyard. He jumped out of the saddle and ran his hands down each of Chief’s legs in turn.

  “Is he all right?”

  He straightened to find Patricia standing near him.

  “I think he is, praise God.”

  She smiled. “Let’s put him in a nice, comfy loose stall and rub him and Patches down.”

  Jared shook his head. “You go on into the house. I know you want to see how your aunt’s doing. I’ll take care of these critters.”

  Half a dozen cowboys had come from the bunkhouse to greet them, and one of them seized Patches’s trailing reins where Annie had left him ground tied and led him into the barn.

  Patricia hesitated. “You gave me my wish, Jared. You got me here on time.”

  “Go on,” Jared said with a grin. “After all we went through, you don’t want to miss the big event.”

  She leaned toward him and placed her gloved hands on his shoulders. Before he realized what she was doing, she’d stood on tiptoe and kissed his cold, scratchy cheek. Then she backed away from him, her blue eyes gleaming, turned, and streaked for the ranch house.

  Jared led Chief into the big, airy barn. On both sides of the aisle, horses were champing hay. Because of the weather, all of the cow ponies were inside, and all the tie-up stalls were full. Chief snorted and pranced as Jared walked him farther down the row.

  “Bring him on down here,” a man called. “Got a spot here for your stallion.”

  Jared recognized the large foaling stall. He nodded at the cowboy who held the door open. “I appreciate it.”

  “The boss hasn’t got a stud right now,” the man said. “Will that one behave himself in here?”

  “I think so,” Jared said. “He’s young, but he’s fairly docile. Needs a good rubdown and a blanket. We had a rough trip up here from Texas.”

  He set about grooming Chief. A cowboy brought him a soft brush and a hoof pick, and another brought a bucket of water for the colt.

  Jared worked methodically around from the horse’s near shoulder to his rump and up the off side. He took a loaned blanket off the half door of the stall and spread it over Chief’s back, pinning it at his chest, then stroked his face and glossy neck.

  “There, now. Feeling better, fella?”

  “Jared Booker.”

  Jared froze at the words and straightened slowly, turning his head toward the doorway. Bill Logan stood just outside the stall, peering in at him and Chief.

  Chapter 7

  Jared hesitated only an instant. He hadn’t planned what he would say to Bill Logan when he met him, and it might have been easier if Patricia or one of the cowpokes had stuck around. But no, this had to be man-to-man.

  “Mr. Logan.”

  He stepped over to the door, shifting the brush to his left hand and extended his right. Bill reached out to shake it over the top of the closed bottom stall door.

  “Well now. You’ve grown some.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Patricia told me you’d brought her from town, and I figured to come out here and skin you alive. Foolhardy business, setting out in the storm like that.”

  Jared swallowed hard and forced himself to meet Bill’s gaze. “I can’t disagree, sir. At the time, it seemed like an easy ride in the lull of the storm, but looking back, I’d be the first to admit it wasn’t the wisest thing I ever did. We were sure happy to run across your line shack and find it had wood and foodstuffs and rations for the horses.”

  Bill nodded soberly. “You’ll have to give me the details later. I know Trisha’s headstrong, and she claims she forced you to bring her. It’s probably true.”

  Jared shrugged, but he couldn’t help a grim smile. “I understand you’re to be congratulated, sir. I’m pleased to hear you found a fine woman.”

  Bill nodded, but a worried frown took up residence between his eyebrows. “Edna’s one of the best things that ever happened to me. I’m just praying now that things go well today. You … know about the baby?”

  Jared nodded. “That was Trisha’s trump card, if I can be so blunt. She was sure her aunt needed her, and she couldn’t stay put in Colorado Springs.”

  “Well, I’m glad she’s here, and Annie, too. When I think that she might have frozen to death out on the range …” He shook himself and leaned on the door. “God has been merciful to us all.”

  “Amen,” Jared said softly.

  Bill straightened and focused beyond him on the coal black colt. “That’s quite a horse you’ve got there, Jared.”

  A smile started deep inside Jared and worked its way up to his lips. “Yes, sir. This is the crowning jewel in my father’s string. We call him Chief. Mr. Logan, I brought him to you as a gift from my father.”

  Bill’s face clouded. He turned away from the doorway. “I don’t need any racehorses. I told Rupert that ten years ago.”

  Jared quickly unlatched the stall door and hurried after him. Bill’s long strides had already taken him to the other end of the barn, and he was about to open the door.

  “Mr. Logan! Please, sir. I have a letter here from my father.” Jared hurried toward him, reaching inside his coat for the sealed letter he had carried from Texas.

  Bill stopped and turned to face him. “I don’t care what your father has to say in that letter, Jared. He was always a hardheaded man, and he would never listen to me. Why should I listen to him now?”

  Jared stood five feet from him with the envelope in his hand, unsure of what to say.

  At that moment, the door swung open. Patricia stood silhouetted against the bright, snowy yard outside, her eyes bright and her cheeks rosy.

  “Uncle Bill! Come on! Edna’s asking for you.”

  Bill whirled toward her. “Is she all right?”

  Patricia grinned. “She and your daughter are just fine.”

  “Praise be!” Bill sprinted for the ranch house.

  Patricia laughed and shot a glance at Jared. “Uncle Bill’s going to be so happy now.”

  “Yeah.”

  Jared’s tone was doubtful, and she looked closer at him. “What’s wrong?” She noticed then that he held an envelope.

  He tapped the letter against his other hand. “He says he doesn’t want Chief, and he won’t read the letter Pa wrote him.”

  Jared looked so forlorn that Patricia stepped closer and laid her hand on his sleeve. “I’m sorry, Jared. You didn’t tell me that your pa wrote him a letter before he died.”

  Jared stood still for a moment, his lips compressed. “You know, I don’t think I told him that Pa passed on. You didn’t tell him, did you?”

  She shook her head. “No, I forgot to mention it in all the excitement o
ver the baby.” She threw her shoulders back and forced a smile. “Listen, everyone’s distracted now, but Uncle Bill is bound to be in a more jovial mood. Let’s give him time to get to know his daughter, and I’ll help the cook prepare a nice dinner. After he’s eaten and calmed down a little, you can talk to him again. Tell him everything.”

  “I don’t know, Trish. He sounded like he knew his mind.”

  “But he doesn’t know the circumstances. Look, I know Uncle Bill can be stubborn. But I also know that he loves the Lord, and once he sees things laid out plain and simple, I think he’ll back down. We both know he loved your father. It was Rupert’s deserting him that’s kept him so bitter all these years. But now he’s found Edna, and you’re here with a wonderful peace offering. Surely he won’t keep holding a grudge against an old friend who’s died.”

  “Well …”

  She could see that he wavered, so she slid her hand through the crook of his arm. “Come on in the house. You’re tired. We all are. Grab your saddlebags, and I’ll show you to a room where you can clean up and rest for a while.”

  “Oh, no, Trish. Don’t do that. I’ll go over to the bunkhouse.”

  “Nonsense. After what you did for me this week? You are an honored guest in this house.”

  With a little more coaxing, she persuaded Jared to collect his gear and go with her into the low ranch house. Sarah, the wife of one of the cowboys, served as the Logans’ cook now, and when Patricia took Jared in through the back kitchen door, she gladly told Patricia to show Jared to the spare room where Edna and Patricia did their sewing.

  “Isn’t it wonderful?” Sarah asked, her eyes swimming with tears. “A new little baby in this house!”

  “It’s delightful,” Patricia agreed. “Have you seen her yet?”

  “No, but I heard the boss shouting, ‘Praise God,’ until Mrs. Logan hushed him. He’s so happy! We’ll celebrate today.”

  Patricia and Jared laughed.

  “I intend to help you prepare for that celebration, Sarah. Excuse us while I show Mr. Booker his room, and then I’ll be back to put on my apron.”

  As they walked through the big main room that Edna referred to as the parlor and Bill called the settin’ room, all was quiet. Jared walked silently beside her into the hall.