Log Cabin Christmas

by Margaret Brownley

  “He said they often travel at night when passing settlers’ cabins. Easier to steal chickens,” Jamie said.

  “Where has Luis been?”

  Jamie drew in his rifle. “Rounding up horses with his sister’s husband. He’s breaking ‘em now and hopes to sell ‘em. Pappy Hanks says the Carvajals have always been good businessmen.”

  Molly nestled the now-dozing Andy into a more comfortable position.

  “Them Injuns be headed west,” Jamie said with confidence. “They be giving up.”

  “Going to new lands,” Molly agreed. “Like Eli Parker.”

  Jamie pulled the shutter closed and latched it. “You could do worse than Eli. He’s a good man.”

  Molly smiled as she caressed Andy’s rounded cheek. She could do better, too.

  Luis rode through the woods toward dusk the last week in November. While faster and possibly safer to take the main road home from Nacogdoches, he liked the tranquil and less dusty path through the foliage. He also welcomed a chance to see Molly. He tried to discipline himself to going by once a week, telling Jamie it was wise to keep track of neighbors and their needs in that sparsely populated area.

  He traveled with mixed emotions. He’d finally found the land surveyor who had given him the news he’d hoped for. Without Luis’s signature, Manuel could not sell the land; thus Jamie Faires farmed land that legally belonged to Luis. He could contest the false sale and refund the money. “But good luck getting it to stick,” the old Tejano had muttered. “Mexico’s days are over. The Americanos have won. You have plenty of land north of that parcel. Take my advice, and let that property go unless you want to use a gun.”

  Luis carried his long rifle in case of emergencies but never shot anything except game. The southern battles had snuffed ambition’s fire from his heart.

  Maximo nickered as they neared the Faires farm. Jamie had cleared the land all the way down to the creek now; they no longer had to venture into the woods to their former watering hole. He had lined the bank with stepping stones to make it less muddy when they drew water. Luis admired initiative, particularly in contrast to his brother-in-law Manuel’s sloth around the Carvajal ranchero.

  He gritted his teeth. Forgiveness toward Manuel didn’t always sit well.

  Luis saw Jamie sitting on a stump not far from the water with his rifle across his lap, his eyes scanning the forest as dusk grew. Andy played beside him, and the dog, Belle, rustled in the undergrowth at the clearing’s edge. The two men raised their hands at each other.

  Molly sat beside the creek watching the water flowing past. She shrugged when Maximo stopped several feet away. Luis tipped his hat.

  Her eyes were swollen, her cheeks striped with tears. He dismounted. “What has happened?”

  Her hands twisted in her lap. “Ye heard my friend Lily Ramsey died?”

  “Mamacita told me. I am sorry to hear of your loss.”

  Her head jerked up. “My loss?”

  “Was she not a good friend? It is difficult for a woman to make friends on the frontier; a terrible grief when a friend dies.”

  She shut her eyes, and her shoulders slumped. “Do ye understand?”

  The faces of lost friends flashed through his mind—vivid, laughing menwho went to death in a rain of Americano lead bullets. “Too many senseless deaths? I understand very well.”

  “How long do ye mourn them? Jamie grieved Sarah more than a year. One day he decided he had mourned long enough and moved forward. He hopes to wed before spring.”

  “What will you do?”

  “That be the question.” Molly stood and buried her face in Maximo’s mane.

  Luis took a step closer to her. “Would you live here with your brother and his new wife?”

  Molly cleared her throat. “Clay Ramsey came today with his young’uns. His three children be under five. They need a ma.”

  A sickening feeling drained through his gut. “His wife and babe are not long dead.”

  “No. Three weeks gone.” Her hand moved across Maximo’s coat as if she gained comfort from the roughness under her palm.

  He forced the words through cold lips. “What will he do?”

  Molly sniffed. “He said his young’uns need a mother. He knows I fostered Andy. He said Pappy Hanks could wed us at Christmas. Clay comes in two weeks for my answer.”

  “Do you want to marry him?”

  Molly hesitated then stamped her foot. “What do ye want from life, Luis?”

  The frustration in her voice surprised him. He answered carefully. “I am like most men. I want a family, a wife, a place to live in peace.” As he spoke the words Luis recognized their truth. He clenched his fists.

  The haunting call of a night dove echoed around them. Water rippled over rocks, and the horse’s head came up, eyes wide, as he shuffled nervously.

  “Ye have a home and Mamacita. Ye own land that has been in your family for many years.” She took a deep breath and lifted her chin. “If your life be not at peace, maybe it be the fault of those who choose not to forgive others.” Belle trotted over to lean against Molly’s leg and whimper. She rubbed the dog’s ears.

  Luis faced north in the direction of his ranch. Manuel’s presence made peace impossible. But if Manuel and Maria didn’t leave before the baby came, they might never make a home of their own. It was past time. Manuel could take his share of the new horses.

  But even as Luis beheld Molly’s beautiful face, he knew a house empty of his brother-in-law would not fill the hole in his heart. The words came unbidden: “Te adoro.”

  “What does that mean?” She hooked a lock of her pale hair behind her ear.

  “What do you see in Ramsey, Molly?” Luis whispered. He tugged the reins to steady both the restless stallion and his own flash of rage. Luis stepped closer.

  “He offers a home, but it’s a home Lily made. I want young’uns, and he offers me Lily’s children.” She put her face into her hands and wept. “All I see is Lily. Her home. Her life. Not mine. But they need me. How can I say no to children without a mother?”

  Belle growled from deep in her throat.

  “Molly.” He struck his open palm against the leather saddle, the pain to his hand as sharp as Molly’s words to his heart. Maximo whinnied and jerked. Trying to find the words to make her understand, Luis squinted up at the towering trees. The first star shone through empty branches, and a black shadow with shimmering yellow eyes alerted his instincts. Luis grabbed for his rifle.

  The dog yelped. The snarling scream of the panther made Luis fumble with his gun. “Get the horse between you and the cat,” he shouted, raising his rifle as the panther sprang.

  The panther landed, claws extended, on Maximo’s flanks. The horse screamed and took off toward the woods, knocking Molly to the ground. Belle chased after, barking. Luis sighted the animal riding the horse’s back, steadied, and shot. Another scream, a shot from Jamie’s rifle, and the panther fell.

  “Got ‘em!” Jamie shouted. He ran after the horse and grabbed the bridle. “The panther’s dead.”

  “Ma-lee,” cried Andy.

  Luis knelt to clasp Molly to his chest. “Are you hurt?” He smoothed back her hair and stared into her beloved face.

  She shook in his arms, and he drew her to his chest, holding her tight.

  “My body be fine,” she whispered. “It be my heart that stumbles.”

  Chapter 10

  December

  Molly’s shoulders ached from the churn’s up-and-down motion. She didn’t have much milk to churn, but with Christmas coming she wanted butter for the feast at the Hanks’s cabin.

  Andy played with pinecones on the bed, giggling at her churning rhyme:

  “Come butter, come,

  Come butter, come,

  Andy standing at the gate

  Waiting for a buttered cake,

  Come butter, come.”

  Molly wondered if she should find a word to rhyme with corn pone since Andy had never tasted cake. “Andy riding on a
roan, waiting for some warmed-up ‘pone?” She shook her head; Andy wasn’t likely to ride a horse soon either.

  A hot fire crackled in the fireplace, warming them against the December chill. Bean soup simmered in a small iron kettle. The scents mingled with the pine boughs Molly had hung over the door and gave the small cabin a festive feel. Fabric for her new Christmas dress peeked from behind the feather pillow on the bed. She’d already finished sewing new shirts for Jamie and an entire outfit for the fast-growing Andy.

  Molly quietly sang the opening verses of “Oh, Come, All Ye Faithful.” When Andy looked up, she reached for him and crooned, “Oh, come, let us adore Him.”

  “Door,” he repeated and fell back against the straw-stuffed mattress.

  How did Luis and Ana celebrate Christmas, Molly wondered. And those words Luis had whispered last week, te adoro, what did they mean? Adoro, adore—could it be? Her heart lifted, and her lips twitched with delight.

  Belle started up and barked just before a knock on the wooden door. The dog’s tail wagged. “Who be there?” Molly called.

  “Luis Vasco de Carvajal.”

  Andy pointed at the door. “Luis!”

  Molly’s shyness at seeing Luis disappeared at the excitement of Andy’s word. She opened the door with a delighted smile. “He said your name. Come in.”

  Luis swept his hat from his head and entered. Molly noted his elegant clothing as she shut the door behind him. If only she had a nice dress.

  “Good morning. I have come with an invitation. My mother requests your family join us tomorrow for noon dinner. I met Jamie outdoors, and he agreed.”

  Molly’s heart danced. “Thank ye. We would be pleased to come. But Luis, did you hear? Andy said your name. He knows ye.”

  Luis nodded at the little boy. “Very good.” He inspected the room. Molly flushed when she saw her sleeping chemise and old rust-colored dress hanging from pegs beside the bed.

  “You sleep here?”

  “Aye. Andy and Jamie have a bed across the breezeway.”

  Luis took two steps farther into the room, nearly reaching the fireplace. “What are all these plants hanging from the roof?”

  “Herbs.” Molly touched a braided strand of wild garlic. “These flavor stew. The chickweed and sassafras make good tea.”

  “Which are the nettles for tea?”

  “Already put away. These still be drying. I collect seeds, too.”

  Andy stood on the straw tick. “Luis.”

  Luis steadied him. “What is this drawing on the shelf?”

  “My brother John drew it: Ma and Pa, Samuel, Billy, and Jamie. I’m the little girl.”

  “Where are they now?”

  She swallowed. “All passed on to glory.”

  “I see.”

  “Do you, Luis?” Molly trembled as she clutched his arm. “The only brother I have left has built this homestead. It’s all we have. He and Andy are all I have. I know the cabin be simple, but we’ve worked hard to make it secure. He’s poured his life into this property.”

  “But now your brother weds again?”

  “Yes. He’ll wed Eliza when she returns from visiting family in San Antonio.” Molly dropped beside Andy.

  “And Ramsey? Have you decided?”

  Molly shook her head. “I have eight more days.”

  Belle’s tail waved, and Jamie opened the door. “I’ve done as you asked, Carvajal. The horses be cobbled.”

  “What horses?” Molly opened the shutter. Luis’s Maximo, Mamacita’sgorgeous mare, and a brown stallion she didn’t recognize cropped at the few tufts of grass remaining in the clearing.

  “Can you ride sidesaddle?” Luis asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Then you have a horse to ride to my ranchero. I will see you all tomorrow. Adios, Andy. Good day.” Luis clicked his heels and left.

  Jamie flung himself onto the bed beside Andy. “What do ye think this invitation is about?”

  Molly knelt to unlock the padlock on the family trunk. “Did ye see his clothes? What am I going to wear? If only my Christmas dress be finished. Jamie,” she bit her lip and looked at him. “May I wear Sarah’s dress?”

  Jamie frowned and sat upright. “What do ye think he’s up to?”

  Ever since Luis had come home with the news of Clay Ramsey’s proposal to Molly, Mamacita had bustled with energy. Orders flew to the servants; she banished Manuel’s cigars outdoors and laid out Luis’s finest clothes for airing.

  Cleaning went on with a vengeance: rugs beaten, candlesticks polished, floors scrubbed. Luis had had to remove his mother from a precarious balance on a chair as she tried to knock down cobwebs from the ceiling in the sala—the main living space in the house.

  “Why must we work so hard because Anglos are coming to dinner?” Maria whined.

  Manuel stomped outside.

  Mamacita drew herself tall as she watched her son-in-law depart. “Now maybe he will prefer his own casa.” She clapped her hands. “Set the table.”

  Luis grew uneasy. He had not realized how humbly the Faires family lived before he entered the cabin yesterday. He wondered what Molly would think of the relative grandeur of the ranchero. His mother spread an embroidered cloth across the table and placed her most cherished possessions, two candlesticks, in the middle. He’d often heard the tale of his grandmother’s journey from Spain with the heavy silver candlesticks tucked into her luggage.

  “Mamacita, perhaps a simple meal in a less grand setting would be better?”

  The woman shook her head. “Molly needs to see she would eat meat and be surrounded with beauty here.”

  “She is a hard worker,” Luis said.

  “That is why I like her. She could help you rebuild a strong home to honor our family as well as hers. You can give the beautiful girl children of her own in a real house.”

  Mamacita was wise. Luis hoped she was right.

  At noon on the appointed day, a servant scurried into the house. “They arrive, señor.”

  Luis strode to the porch and watched the two horses he had left with Jamie Faires stop at the fence. Jamie swung off from the brown horse and tied the reins. He touched the brim of his hat at Luis before securing Mamacita’s mare.

  Luis had eyes only for the beauty wrapped in a dark cape and perched on the mare’s saddle. Molly clung to the pommel with one hand and controlled a giggling Andy with the other. He hurried down the steps to reach her just as Jamie took Andy from her arms. “May I?” Luis asked.

  Jamie thrust the boy at him and helped his sister dismount.

  “Chick.” Andy squirmed to get down. Maria followed Mamacita into the yard and held her arms out to the little boy when Luis set him down. Andy ignored her and headed toward the scruffy chickens pecking through the flower bed.

  “Hello, Luis.” Molly smiled at him and then grasped Mamacita’s hand. “Thank ye for the kind invitation.” She reached into a pocket of the cloak and pulled out a small package wrapped in softened bark and tied with willow string. “I brought ye sassafras tea.”

  “Gracias. Please come inside.” Mamacita introduced Maria and Manuel. Molly tendered a shy smile and ducked her head.

  “Thank ye for the use of your horses,” Jamie said. “I hope to have one of my own soon.”

  “Let me know if I can help.” Luis followed the women into the house, anxious to see Molly’s reaction. Jamie went after his son.

  Molly handed her cape to a servant and gazed about the sala. Maria joined her immediately. “Your dress is beautiful.” The woman fingered the smooth blue fabric. “Is this what they are wearing where you come from?”

  Molly lowered her voice. “This be the wedding dress of my brother’s late wife.”

  “Beautiful.” Mamacita took her arm and led her to a painting. “This is a portrait of my Antonio. Luis resembles him.”

  Luis watched Molly’s eyes grow wide as Mamacita introduced her to their home. Maria sidled up to him and whispered in Spanish, “Why is Mamacita showing her eve
rything? What does this mean?”

  He replied in the same tongue. “Only God knows.”

  She slapped his wrist. “Now you sound like Mamacita when she comes back from camp meetings. What happened at the camp meeting?”

  “Tomás reminded me of the Bible truth.” He crossed his arms. “That includes turning the other cheek when men insult you and forgiving people who do not deserve to be forgiven.”

  She flushed. “You don’t understand Manuel.”

  “No. But I want the best for you.” He searched his little sister’s round face for understanding. “That is why you must go to Manuel’s ranchero. You need to have your own life.”

  Maria pouted and blinked her eyes rapidly. “Mamacita needs to come with me.”

  “She will come in time for your confinement.”

  Mamacita looked in their direction. “You all must be hungry. Luis, call the men, and we will eat.” She clapped her hands and led her guests to the dining table.

  Molly sat quietly beside Luis, gazing about the room and at the brightly lit candles in the gleaming candlesticks. “We will pray,” Luis said, and bowed his head. He saw Maria gesture to Manuel, and the sullen man bent his head. Luis blessed the food in both English and Spanish. Manuel did not speak English.

  Jamie sat stiff and upright beside Mamacita. Molly kept her head down as they dined. Andy gave up trying to eat with utensils and picked up the tortillas and roasted pork with his fingers.

  “The food be delicious, Ana. I have not eaten like this in a long time. Thank ye for inviting us to dinner,” Molly said.

  Mamacita beamed. Manuel nudged Maria, who translated.

  “Aye, thank ye,” Jamie said. “Ye have a very nice spread here.”

  “This was part of my grandfather’s land grant from the Spanish king,” Luis said.

  “Do ye live here as well?” Molly asked Maria.

  “We leave next week to move to town. Manuel’s family owns a casa in Nacogdoches, and we will travel there soon for the holiday celebrations and our baby’s birth. In the spring we will go to my husband’s ranchero,” Maria said. “Do you celebrate the posada?”