Jubilant Montana Christmas (Bear Grass Springs Book 5)

by Ramona Flightner

  Warren lowered his voice so it was heard only among their immediate group. “Either you pay to the fund or I will ensure you are beggared.” His eyes shone with his distaste. “Think carefully, Mrs. Jameson, for I doubt you have many friends who will come forth and speak in your favor.”

  Mrs. Jameson blanched and backed away. “You will pay for what you’ve done to me.”

  Warren shook his head as he saw Leena leaning against Karl as she battled her distress and felt his own wife trembling beside him. “We already have.”

  Mrs. Jameson glared at the unified group before spinning on her heels and marching away.

  “That was singularly unpleasant,” Annabelle muttered.

  “There isna one of us who that woman hasna attempted to harm or malign with her vicious words,” Alistair said as he ran a hand over Leticia’s shoulder.

  Warren smiled. “I wouldn’t worry about her. She’s discovering just how few friends she has in town. She’ll pay the fine and agree to the terms for she has no desire to be forced from her home of many years.”

  “Aye, but it willna stop the woman’s penchant for mischief,” Ewan muttered.

  Karl grumbled. “Only when she’s dead will that end.” He flushed as he saw Helen flinch. “I beg your pardon.”

  Helen shook her head and gave a weak smile to the group. “No, I’m sorry. I wish …”

  Leena gripped her arm. “She is nothing more than an irritation to Karl and me. We are fine. Her words will not hurt us.”

  Helen breathed a sigh of relief, and her smile broadened at Leena’s reassurance.

  Jessamine sighed as she tracked Mrs. Jameson’s movements, Jessamine’s gaze finally darting back to the group after Mrs. Jameson departed the Hall. “I fear she will find a way to cause mischief for Sorcha. The longer she is at the ranch, the louder the rumors of impropriety will grow.”

  Cailean gave a small groan and shook his head. “Can we not enjoy tonight without worrying about tomorrow?”

  “Aye,” Alistair said. “Tomorrow’s problems will come soon enough.”

  They were interrupted from saying anything further as Harold quieted the musicians and spoke in a loud voice to attract the townsfolk’s attention. He wore his best suit and a red waistcoat. “Thank you for joining us tonight for our Second Annual Bear Grass Springs’ New Year’s Eve Dance!” He smiled and gave a small bow as a few of the miners whistled.

  “The man should be mayor,” Ewan muttered, earning a grunt of agreement from his brothers.

  “As you know, we are attempting to fatten the coffers of our sparsely funded Bear Grass Springs’ Improvement Committee.” He smiled and stepped aside from the gingerbread house. “With that in mind, we are going to auction off this delicious edible treat prepared by our very own Leena Johansen.”

  The crowd gave an appreciative murmur at the large house with multicolored icing. Leena flushed and nodded as the townsfolk looked in her direction.

  “I hear it is like one large gingerbread cookie!” Harold proclaimed with glee.

  “Ja,” Leena said and smiled as interest in her gingerbread house grew at that proclamation.

  “Therefore, I’ll start the bidding at five dollars. We must be generous as we fund our Improvement Committee!”

  “They’ll never receive so much money,” Leena protested to Karl.

  Karl kissed her head and whispered in her ear, “Watch and listen. Cailean told me that Harold is a master at auctions.”

  Soon the bidding had risen to thirty dollars. Ewan silently nodded as each bid was made, but, after the bid surpassed twenty, Jessamine whispered in his ear, and he dropped out. Finally Harold called out, “Going once. … Going twice. … Sold for twenty-five dollars!” He pointed to a miner wearing a fine suit, and the townsfolk clapped.

  “He must have had a bit of luck,” Annabelle said.

  Leena shook her head in surprise. “I never thought anyone would pay such money.”

  “I’m sorry, love,” Ewan said as he kissed Jessamine’s forehead.

  Jessamine smiled and kissed his cheek. “Thank you for being gallant and attempting to purchase me that gingerbread house.” She watched as the miner called his friends over, and they began to nibble at it.

  Leena looked at her friends and smiled. “Don’t fret,” she whispered. “You’re friends with a baker.”

  Cailean nodded. “Aye, with two,” he said as he squeezed Annabelle.

  “And, with friends like us, you’ll never go hungry for treats,” Leena teased. Soon she joined Karl on the dance floor as the musicians played a slow waltz. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “For what, min kjærlighet?” He smiled as she flushed at his saying “my love” in Norwegian.

  “For standing beside me. For not allowing Mrs. Jameson’s words to separate us.” She smiled as his gaze softened. “For not ruining our surprise for our friends when they arrive home tonight.”

  Karl laughed. “I wish I could see their faces when they realize they have small pepperkake houses waiting for them.”

  “Nathanial was good to agree to deliver them for us.”

  “Ja, and we’re lucky the MacKinnons don’t lock their doors,” he said with a smile.

  She leaned her head against his shoulder. “This has been the best Christmas and New Year’s, Karl. Thank you.”

  He grinned at her. “It’s our first of many.” He leaned forward and kissed her softly on the lips before pulling her tightly against his chest. He held her close as they slowly moved around the dance floor.

  Later that evening, after riding home from the dance with Nathanial, Leena entered the small house she shared with her husband, her hands shaking from the cold and her nervousness. She watched as he stoked the fire in the stove, her eyes tracking how his muscles flexed with the movement.

  He turned and caught her staring. He smiled and winked at her. When she flushed and wrung her hands, he frowned. “Leena, love, why are you standing by the door, still with your coat on?” He moved to her and helped her out of her outerwear as though she were a child. When he noted her shivering, he tugged her to the warming stove.

  “No,” she rasped, when he moved away, clinging to him. “Hold me.” She pushed herself into his arms, holding him tight. “I need to feel your arms around me.”

  “What happened?” he whispered. “Whatever it is, it will be all right. You know that woman will not harm us, ja? And we had a wonderful time with our friends.” He held her, rocking her to and fro as they stood in front of the stove. He slowly began to twirl them in a circle so they both warmed, and his deep voice hummed a Norwegian lullaby to her. When he realized she was crying, his hold on her tightened. “Please, my love, what is it?”

  “I love our home,” she said into his ear. “I will miss it when we have to move.”

  He chuckled. “We won’t have to move until we have a …” He froze, their impromptu dance abruptly halted. He pushed her away, his thumbs chasing tears down her cheeks. “Leena?”

  She smiled and nodded. After sharing a long glance, she turned her cheek and kissed his palm. Then she picked it up and placed it over her belly. “Ja, a spebarn. In summer.”

  He dropped to his knees, hugging her close as he wrapped his arms around her lower back, his face buried against her belly as he kissed it. “A baby. Oh, I never dared dream I’d be a father.”

  She giggled as her fingers tangled in his blond hair. “With what we’ve done since we married, it was bound to occur.”

  His raised brilliant, hope-filled eyes to meet hers. “Thank you.”

  She dropped to her knees, kissing him. “We will be wonderful parents, Karl. You will be such a magnificent father.” She let out a hitching breath as her tears abated.

  His gaze held fear and hope in equal measure. “Do you believe that?”

  She cupped his cheeks and met his gaze. “Yes. I trust you. I love you. And I know you will only show love and dedication to our child. To our children.”

  “Yes,” he raspe
d as he tugged her close. After many moments he whispered, “Why were you crying?” He gave her a gentle squeeze. “Truly?”

  “Today, when we were at the dance, I overheard Cailean whisper to Alistair about Jessamine losing a baby.” Leena leaned away and kissed Karl’s cheek as she met his gaze. “I was standing here in our home, so happy with my surprise for you and yet filled with such sadness for them.” She attempted a smile as her tears fell again. “I can’t imagine how sad Jessamine is.”

  Karl shuddered as he pulled Leena close, sitting on the floor with her between his strong legs. “And Ewan. Always so happy. I wondered why he was not more jovial at Christmas. He seemed better today, although he still looked like he mourned something.” Karl held Leena, rocking side to side subtly. “Never doubt that I want you more than any baby we might have.” He moved so she could see his earnest expression. “I want our baby, ja, but not more than I want you.”

  “Oh, Karl,” she whispered. “Thank you for being my husband. For having the courage to confront your past and to realize that you are more than the people who raised you ever knew you could be.”

  He smiled and traced a finger over her cheek. “Your love, Leena, your faith in me, gave me the strength I needed to be more.” He frowned as she shook her head.

  “No.” She kissed his palm. “No, it gave you the freedom to be who you always were. I love you as you are, not as I wish you were.”

  He groaned and kissed her passionately. They broke apart, and he whispered, “Together, my love, we will have such a wonderful life. You enjoying your work at the bakery while I work with your brother and our children grow up all around us.”

  She sniffled and smiled as she snuggled into his embrace. “Always together.”

  Never Fear! There are more Bear Grass Springs books coming!

  Look for Sorcha and Frederick’s Novel- Montana Wrangler in January 2019—read on for a sneak peek and preorder now!

  Look for Fidelia and Bears’ Novel- in March 2019.

  Sneak Peek: Montana Wrangler

  Bear Grass Springs, Montana, November 1886

  EXCERPT FROM CHAPTER ONE

  It was an inauspicious way to die. Sorcha MacKinnon stared at the blue sky overhead yet watched the storm clouds nearing as the snow-covered branches of the pine trees swayed in the breeze. She took a deep breath and tried to move, biting back a scream of pain as she barely progressed an inch. “Sugar?” she called out to her horse.

  She closed her eyes and listened for any sound, tears coursing from her eyes and wetting her hair. “Why should I want a horse that threw me?” she said in a quavering voice. She continued to mutter to herself so she didn’t feel so alone in the large, empty forest.

  Her eyes snapped open at a creaking sound, her heart racing. A strange snip of a memory came to her. She died too soon. Her heart raced and breath emerged as pants as she strained to remember anything further. After a moment, she took a deep breath, realizing the pine tree had made the noise after a strong gust of wind blew snow off its branches. In her pain-induced state, her mind jumped from memories of holding her niece, Skye, to arguing with her youngest brother, Ewan, to laughing with her sisters-in-law at the bakery. “I dinna want to die alone.” She tried to move again and fainted from the pain.

  Frederick Tompkins paused on his way from the ranch house to the horse barn to watch the large fluffy white clouds move across the brilliant blue Montana sky, followed by a band of darker storm clouds. Along with his two brothers, Peter and Cole, Frederick ran the Mountain Bluebird Ranch, or MBR.

  Near the main ranch house stood two large barns. One housed Frederick’s prize horses, while the other held milk cows, goats and pigs. In front of the horse barn was the blacksmith shop with a hand pump for water. Large interconnecting paddocks and corrals were behind the barns and to the side of the larger horse barn.

  Frederick pulled on his hat and strode to the barn. The MBR was the largest and most successful cattle ranch in the valley near Bear Grass Springs, Montana. His grandparents and father had founded it in the 1860s and then given it to the three brothers. Whereas Frederick chose to remain in Montana, Cole and Peter preferred the adventure of driving herds up from Texas each spring. They were currently in Chicago with the cattle they had cut from the herd to sell. Frederick knew from previous years’ experience that his brothers would return to Texas rather than winter in Montana.

  He smiled to himself as he considered winter in Montana. Rather than look to a calendar to determine the season, Montanans often joked there were two seasons, summer and winter, with winter lasting up to six months. He glanced at the foreboding dark clouds on the horizon again, and he knew that winter was about to arrive. He said a silent prayer that it would be a mild one like last year’s.

  Frederick gave a small grunt of satisfaction that his brothers had missed the recent harvest dance held in town. Frederick glowered as he thought about the dance he had shared with Sorcha MacKinnon. He tugged at his red bandanna tied around his neck, flushing as he remembered storming away from her after she had called him a “simple-minded wrangler.” Her mocking stare as she intimated any woman living on his ranch would be miserable had filled him with such ire that he had been unable to speak.

  A cool breeze blew, scattering fallen leaves and rustling the prairie grass poking through the light skiff of snow, helping to cool his momentary anger at the memory. After the long harsh summer, the grass was thin and sparse on the range, with little for the cattle to eat over the coming winter months. Fresh snow shone like a beacon on the nearby mountain peaks with the hint of more snow to come in the air itself as well as in the nearing clouds. He focused on the land around him, forcefully putting his memory of Sorcha from his mind.

  Frederick called out to Dalton, one of his hands. “I’m taking Boots out for a ride. To clear my head and let her run before the storm hits. Might be my last chance to roam the range before winter arrives.” He rubbed a hand along the neck of one of his prized horses, a beautiful chestnut filly with white forelocks. He clicked and murmured, “Come on, Boots. Let’s see how fast you want to run.” Although a cattle ranch, Frederick raised prized horses and had begun to earn a reputation for them in the area.

  He barreled down the drive before slowing Boots to a trot and veering off onto his land as they headed toward the mountains. Boots tossed her head as though upset with the slowing of their pace before she settled into a gentle canter. The frost on the grass melted as the day warmed, and Frederick saw hawks circling overhead in search of any small creature foolish enough to be on the prairie. Few of his cattle were visible as they had scattered on the range after the fall roundup last month. He stared in dismay at the brittle grass and prayed for a mild winter.

  As he followed a well-worn trail, Frederick’s sense of unease heightened rather than diminished. The trees thickened as he approached the base of the mountains, and he heard the soft trickle of a nearby stream. The air cooled, and the scent on the breeze was sweeter with the fresh smell of pine trees mixed with mossy undertones from the creek. He paused Boots, closing his eyes to breathe deeply as worries about the ranch and his fledgling horse business faded. The soft wind moved through the trees and caressed his hair and face, further easing his tension. After a few more moments, he patted Boots’s neck and was about to turn for home when he saw a piece of green fabric on a rock.

  He jumped from his horse to pick it up and then heard a sound. He closed his eyes. A moan. After a moment, he heard a whimper. Walking with Boots’s bridle in his hand, Frederick turned the corner of the trail and came to an abrupt halt. Someone lay crumpled in front of him, and he took a deep breath after seeing the figure move.

  “Don’t be frightened,” Frederick whispered.

  “Dinna touch me!” Her voice emerged, tremulous, weak and pain-ladened.

  “Sorcha?” He tied his horse to a nearby tree and dropped to his haunches. He ran a hand over her head and back, frowning when his hand came away blood-stained. “Let me turn you over.”


  “Dinna touch me,” she said again as a sob burst forth. “It hurts too much. Just let me die.”

  “You dramatic fool,” he muttered. “I won’t let you die in the wilderness, a target for the wolves and bears. Is that how you’d like to meet your maker?” He waited until he saw a small shrug of her shoulders. “Is that your greatest desire? To become a tall tale in Jessamine’s newspaper?” Sorcha MacKinnon, the only unmarried MacKinnon in Bear Grass Springs, had arrived from the Isle of Skye in Scotland two years ago to join her brothers Cailean, Alistair and Ewan. The youngest brother, Ewan, was married to Jessamine, the town’s reporter.

  Sorcha pushed herself up enough to glare at Frederick, her light blue eyes lit with animosity. “How dare ye turn what has happened to me into a farce?”

  “I’m not the one begging to be left in the wilderness to die.” He reached forward and eased her onto her back, earning a yelp of surprise before she passed out. “Sorcha!” he screamed. “Sorcha!”

  She was as white as a freshly bleached sheet, and he frantically placed his fingers at her throat, anxious to feel any sign of life. He leaned over her, his breath calming as he felt her soft exhalations on his cheek. “Wake up, you devilish woman.” He ran a hand over her arms and then blanched as her burgundy wool skirt had risen up one leg, and he saw the odd angle of her upper right leg. “Oh, dear God, what have you done?”

  “I dinna do anything,” she whispered, her eyes still closed. “It was Sugar. She bolted and threw me. Somehow I hit a rock, and … I dinna remember the rest.”

  “You could have broken your neck.”

  “Aye.” She took a deep breath, her mouth tight with pain. “Then I wouldna be in such pain.”

  Frederick made a noise of disgust that rivaled any noise her Scottish brothers made. “Do you think your family wouldn’t mourn you? How could you be so selfish?”