by Jillian Hart
She wouldn’t have offered to feed them at all, but she couldn’t set aside the fact that they were serving in her country’s military. It seemed unfeeling not to give them even a small piece of the cake when the smell of it baking had spread throughout the trading post.
“Ma’am.” A young soldier, no older than twenty, stood in the doorway, holding his hat. His uniform was pressed. “I was wondering if I could carry something for you.”
“I’ll put the cake on a plate in a minute,” Annabelle said. She wasn’t ready to leave her sanctuary yet. She’d never sat in a circle with six men, all of whom wanted to talk to her. It sounded a little exhausting. Of course, it might cure her shyness.
When she couldn’t put it off any longer, Annabelle loaded seven pieces of fresh cake onto the plate. The cake was heavy and would stay together if the men held it in their hands to eat it.
She gave the plate to the young soldier and he started carrying it toward the door into the trading post. He walked so carefully that she wished she had cut the pieces bigger. But she didn’t know how many soldiers would come today and she didn’t have more ingredients to make more cakes. The one in the oven would have to do for the party.
Gasps of pleasure greeted her as she stepped through the door, although she had to admit most of the soldier’s eyes were on the cake and not on her. Only Gabe was looking at her and he was frowning.
“I have another cake in the oven,” she assured him quietly as she walked over to him. He had his shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows. “We’ll have plenty for tonight.”
“I’m not worried about tonight.”
She didn’t even respond to that. Instead, she looked around. There were only three soldiers sitting in chairs around the fireplace. Not more than fifteen minutes ago there had been six of them. It seemed some of them discouraged easily.
She told herself it was for the best, but it was still a little unnerving. First six men were intent on talking to her and now there were only three. She couldn’t help but wonder if those three men who left had heard something about her. Maybe she was expected to tell the men why she’d make a good wife. That would be daunting.
“I sent half of them out to cut us some wood,” Gabe said then, no doubt having watched as she looked around. “We’re going to need a big fire tonight and I figure three at a time talking to you will be enough.”
“Well, you could have told me you did that,” she said tartly.
“None of the soldiers are going to leave without a piece of that cake and a chance to talk to you. You don’t have to fret.”
That made her feel better.
But twenty minutes after she’d sat down to converse, Annabelle was exhausted. How many different ways could she answer the question about what she desired in a husband? She mentioned age. She didn’t want to marry anyone younger than twenty-seven years old. She was thirty and that seemed reasonable. No, she didn’t care how much money a man had, although she did admit she was partial to having a roof over her head and meals on the table. She didn’t want to go hungry or live in a tent or a wagon.
She expected the next question to be what kind of a wife she would be, but no one asked that.
“Does he need to be tall?” one of the men asked instead. He was shorter than her, a slight, thin man with a sad expression.
She started to say that she preferred shorter men when she looked over at Gabe and realized he was about to say something.
“If you’re a mean-spirited, large man, you can leave right now,” he said as he glared at each of the soldiers in turn until they hunched over in their seats. Then he turned a protective eye toward her.
She smiled at him as she realized something.
“Tall or short, slender or stocky, good men come in all shapes and sizes,” she said after a moment. “I used to think most large men were mean, but I know now that’s not true.”
The soldiers were looking at Gabe warily now, but he was sitting proud.
“A churchgoing man is important,” she offered. “A man who prays and trusts God.”
“I can recite the books of the Bible,” the young soldier who had carried the cake in announced. “I can do them for you right now if you want.”
“Maybe we could do them later,” Annabelle said gently. “I don’t have much time so I think we need to change places with the other soldiers. Before you go, though, I want you all to know that I was injured in a fire not long ago. I had some burns across my back, shoulders and arm.”
There was a chorus of sympathetic murmurs.
She waved them away. “The burns have healed, but I can’t lift things with my arms like I used to be able to do. Anyone who marries me needs to know I have limitations.”
The soldiers seemed to accept her injuries better than the other men she’d told with her letters. Still, the first group of soldiers went outside to relieve their friends so they could come in and visit with Annabelle.
The questions were nearly identical and Annabelle finally realized the men had come just to talk with her. Most of them probably weren’t even interested in marriage. All they wanted was a bit of home around Christmas. She probably reminded the younger ones of their mothers.
She let them stay longer than she should have and then she had to rush to prepare for the evening. She and Gabe had cleaned the trading post the best that they could. Every corner had been dusted, although he had blocked off an area where he said he worked.
She threaded some red ribbon around the rocks in the fireplace and laid fresh pine branches under the tree. Then she pronounced the house ready and went to change into her silk dress. She was able to coil her hair on top of her head with no difficulty. Slipping the pins into her hair had taken more time, but she managed. She sat her hat on top of her head as Gabe called out that Mrs. Baker’s buggy was coming down the road. She hoped it wasn’t too long before the Hargroves and Martins arrived. She’d prayed while she dressed, asking God to show Mrs. Baker that the children belonged with their family.
Lord, don’t let her frighten them, either. Annabelle said a final prayer as she adjusted her hat.
Chapter Seven
No sooner had the soldiers left than Gabe watched Mrs. Baker step over the threshold to enter the trading post carefully, almost as though she was afraid her shoes would find something sticky on the other side. Dusk had begun to darken the sky as her brother-in-law pulled the buggy to a stop and the inside of a building was naturally dim. Maybe the older woman just couldn’t see well. She was wearing a smaller hat than before, but she had a glittering brooch that was sure to catch Eliza’s eye. Gabe resigned himself to the fact that his niece would likely be as fascinated with the older woman tonight as she had been in the mercantile.
“Here’s a nice chair for you in front of the fire,” he said as he pulled one forward a little. He was grateful that the judge had not come with Mrs. Baker. Maybe he wasn’t even visiting Miles City this Christmas.
“Why, thank you.” The woman seemed surprised at his gesture.
“My mother raised Adam and me to be polite,” he said without thinking, his words clipped. Then he realized he should say more. “We plan to teach Daniel and Eliza the same ways.”
Mrs. Baker just nodded as she sat down.
No one challenged Gabe with the fact that he was the uncle and not the father of the children.
So he turned to the older couple who had also come into the room with Mrs. Baker. “I’m afraid I never did get your full names. I’m Gabe Stone. Annabelle Hester, my brother’s fiancée, will be here any minute. She’s fixing my niece’s hair.”
“I don’t suppose they’re going to put her hair in ringlets?” the woman in the couple asked eagerly. “Our Mary always loved to have her hair done that way.”
“I don’t believe so,” Gabe answered as he pulled forward another chair. If he thought there was any chance Eliza would come out here in ringlets, he would go warn Annabelle to wrap a towel around the girl’s head. The less she looked like the c
ouple’s little Mary, the better it was for everyone.
“We’re the Smiths,” the older man said as he gestured for his wife to take the chair. “Virginia and Edgar Smith. From Maryland.”
Virginia sat down in the chair and Gabe pulled out another one for her husband.
“Pleased to meet you, I’m sure,” Gabe muttered and then he stood there. With everyone seated, there didn’t seem to be anything more to do.
“It’s a lovely tree,” Mrs. Smith finally murmured. “I know children enjoy making ornaments and those are wonderful snowflakes.”
Gabe heard the door open to the kitchen.
“I see you don’t have the glass pear any longer,” Mrs. Baker added in what sounded like satisfaction. “The tree would have looked better with it. But I thought you might have to sell it.”
Annabelle took a step into the room, looking resplendent in her rose hat and gray silk dress, with the tucks all pressed and the fabric shining softly in the glow of the fire. “I broke the glass pear.”
Her voice had more than a hint of guilt.
“We found we really didn’t need it,” Gabe said at the same time.
Mrs. Baker nodded like she made sense out of what they’d said.
Eliza had walked in with Annabelle, her hand clutching some of the woman’s dress. Daniel had followed on the other side of Annabelle, but none of their guests were watching him.
“Oh, she’s such a sweet child,” Mrs. Smith said with an emotion-filled glance to her husband. “And she looks so dressed up.”
Annabelle had swept the girl’s hair back in some twisted thing that Gabe didn’t understand. And her blue dress had been washed yesterday and pressed this morning. Gabe had never seen her looking so ready for company. She rewarded the older ladies with a smile and Gabe almost grinned himself.
Just then Gabe heard the sounds of a wagon outside and he went to the door.
“It’s the Hargroves,” he informed the others. “And it looks like they have the Martins with them.” He turned to everyone around the fireplace. “The rest of our guests for the evening. I think you’ll enjoy them.”
Gabe was relieved when he saw that Jake had his fiddle in his hand as he started walking toward the door. Gabe wasn’t sure how long he could keep up the idle chatter with Mrs. Baker.
The Hargroves and their children spilled through the door first, seeming to fill up the room with their joyful greetings to everyone. And the Martins followed close behind them. It took a few minutes to get everyone’s coat off and the cookies they’d made delivered to the kitchen. Then it didn’t take much to convince Jake to play a few tunes on his fiddle. He began with “Away in the Manger” and ended with “Silent Night.”
Jake missed some of the notes and made up others as he went, but his enthusiasm had them all smiling. The sun was gradually going down and Gabe lit a lantern to set on a shelf by the fireplace. In its light, the paper snowflakes on the tree almost shone. This really was a Christmas party.
When Jake couldn’t play a particular carol on his fiddle, he’d sing it instead and they’d all join in. Gabe couldn’t remember ever having such a wonderful evening. He was almost disappointed when Annabelle announced it was time for cake and cookies. They had already agreed that was when the party would start to end.
By the time Mrs. Baker and the Smiths were starting to put their coats back on, Gabe was almost sorry the evening was over. He knew they had to drive back into Miles City, though, and wouldn’t want to do it much later in the night.
An angry pounding started at the door about then.
Gabe’s heart sank as he looked over at Mrs. Baker. She had a smug look on her face and he figured she had the same suspicions about who was on the other side of the door as he did.
“Give me a minute,” he said as he stepped over to answer the door. He figured that, if he could slip out and talk to his brother, maybe he could quiet him long enough for everyone else to leave. It didn’t work that way. When Gabe opened the door, he put his arm on the door frame to prevent Adam from walking in. His brother was determined, though, and quickly bent down and ducked under Gabe’s arm.
Once he was inside, Adam started to sway.
“What’s this?” He slurred out the words. His eyes were bloodshot and he hadn’t shaved in several days. “Having a party and I’m not invited?”
“You were invited,” Gabe said curtly. “You were just off hunting rabbits instead. Now if you’ll let me take you into the living quarters and let me show you a bed for the night, we can all get some rest.”
Adam shook his head and leaned closer to Gabe. He reeked of whiskey. “I don’t want to go to bed. There’s a party. I like parties.” He looked around the room again and his gaze stopped at Eliza. “There’s my little girl. Come to Daddy.”
Eliza didn’t move. She almost looked frightened, with her big eyes and her bottom lip quivering slightly.
This was not what Mrs. Baker should see, Gabe told himself, as he took his brother by the arm and started to walk him into the living quarters. “Let me get you some coffee.”
He glanced over at Annabelle. “I’m sure Mrs. Baker and the Smiths want to be on their way. Take the lantern to the door so they don’t stumble before lighting the lantern on their buggy.”
“Don’t think we don’t see what condition your brother is in,” Mrs. Baker said firmly as she tied a scarf around her head. “My cousin, the judge, will be hearing about it. It’s a disgraceful way to spend Christmas Eve.”
“We’ll talk about it later,” Gabe said as he opened the door to go into the kitchen, guiding his brother through the opening. Gabe was all bluff, though. He didn’t know what he could say to make Adam sound like a reasonable parent.
* * *
Annabelle felt her heart sink as she watched her fiancé being taken from the room. She had seen men drunk before, but it wasn’t a sight she wanted to see on a regular basis.
“Let me get that lantern for you,” she said to Mrs. Baker as she fought back hot tears of embarrassment. How could Adam show up like this? Didn’t he know Mrs. Baker would use everything against him that she could?
She lifted the lantern off the shelf and held it as she walked to the door. She glanced up at Mrs. Baker and was surprised to see a look of sympathy on her face.
“I truly do want what is best for the children,” the older woman said then, looking at Annabelle. “I doubt your Adam has been sober for more than a day or two in the past month.”
“I’m not sure he’s my Adam anymore,” Annabelle managed to say as she pulled the door open and stood there in the cold, without a coat or shawl. The truth was he might have never been her Adam even though he’d become her dream.
She looked down when she felt a tiny fist tug on the skirt of her dress. She put her hand on Eliza’s head, feeling the coils of hair underneath her fingers. Maybe tomorrow she’d wrap the girl’s hair in curling rags.
She waited for the buggy to start back into Miles City before she closed the door. When she turned around, Elizabeth Hargrove took a few steps toward her and opened her arms. Annabelle walked into them without hesitation.
“Don’t you worry now,” the other woman said as she patted her shoulder. “We’re going to be praying for God to redeem Adam’s life. And for guidance for you, too.”
“I have trouble trusting Him,” Annabelle admitted.
“He’ll take care of you,” Elizabeth said with a confidence that made Annabelle believe it, too.
All of the Hargroves and Martins wanted to pray with her before they left and she was happy for them to do so. Not long after that Gabe came to the door and said she and the children could go inside the living quarters. He and Adam were going to bunk down by the fire in the main part of the trading post for the night.
She and the children were all so tired it did not take them long to scramble into bed and fall asleep. She and Gabe had finished the presents and they had planned earlier to let the children open them after breakfast on Christmas Day
. By then Adam would be sober, she thought to herself. Maybe he had some good reason for being as drunk as he was. She needed to listen to him before she made a decision about what to do. Every man deserved that courtesy. But the thought didn’t give her any pleasure.
Her last thought before falling asleep was that she should write her friend, Christina, and tell her that her fiancé hadn’t prompted a flutter around her heart at all. The feeling she had was more like a deadweight sitting on top of her head.
Annabelle had been asleep for hours when something woke her up. It was dark in the room, but she did see a strip of light coming from under the door leading to the main part of the trading post. Gabe must have lit the lantern again since it gave off more light than the fireplace. She wondered if he needed help with his brother. He’d made coffee earlier, but he’d left the pot in the kitchen. She heard the murmur of voices then and decided to go to the door and tell Gabe she would heat up the coffee for them if they wanted it.
She slipped her robe on and put her socks on her feet. Her hair was in the braid she usually wore it in at night. She wasn’t looking the way she’d like to when her fiancé saw her for the first time when he was sober, but she figured it was so dark that it would make little difference. And, after the night he’d had, he wouldn’t likely remember anyway.
The door was not locked and she opened it slightly. Gabe and Adam were standing near the fireplace, their heads bent toward each other in intense conversation.
“But she’s got something wrong with her,” Adam was saying. He wasn’t drunk now, but his voice was still thick from it. “The men who were here earlier today said she had scars and burns and couldn’t even lift much of anything. Who needs a wife like that?”
“You do,” Gabe said with a hiss in his voice. She could see the barely restrained anger in him from the way he stood with his legs spread apart and his hand in a fist at his side. “Those things don’t matter. Annabelle is wonderful. She has more love to give than anyone I know. And she’s smart and brave and—” he paused to catch his breath “—much too good for you.”
