Cowboy Creek Christmas

by Cheryl St. John

  “Pooh on practical,” Hannah said. “Women deserve beautiful things. You deserve to feel attractive and confident.”

  “I am confident.”

  “About what?”

  “My abilities. Knowledge. Skills.”

  “And rightly so. But what about your femininity? Your appearance?”

  “I’ve never set much store by appearances.”

  “Each woman is unique and beautiful in her own way. Your confidence lends you an intriguing air of mystery. Woman are in awe, and men admire you.”

  “Does this flattery work on everyone?” she asked.

  “It’s not flattery if it’s the truth.” She urged Marlys up from the chair. “Come with me.” She led her to another room with a settee, a cheval mirror and racks for clothing and accessories. Hannah had wisely chosen wall lamps for this area, so the light was flattering, and she could draw aside curtains to let more light through a window.

  She stood Marlys before the full-length mirror. “Tell me what you see.”

  “I see a person I would trust,” Marlys answered.

  Hannah carried a lamp close and held it just above shoulder height. “What about your hair?”

  “It’s unruly and gets in the way.”

  “What about the way the light brings out all those shimmering highlights? Your hair is healthy and shiny. It looks soft and feminine.”

  “Feminine?”

  “Most definitely.” She set down the lamp and used her hands to span Marlys’s waist. She was taller than Marlys and stood behind her shoulder. “And what about this tiny waist? Mine didn’t look like that even before Ava was born. You were made to wear lovely clothing. Let’s get you out of that skirt and measure you.”

  Marlys was uncomfortable standing in Hannah’s dressing room in her cotton underclothing, but Hannah behaved as though she did this every day, which she probably did. She carefully tried on a dress that had been basted and pinned, and Hannah urged her back in front of the full-length mirror. “You’re not a woman for whom frills will work. They would only detract from your striking appeal. But in flowing lines and jewel colors you are stunning.”

  Marlys studied her reflection, arrested by the change a simple dress made. She caught herself wondering what Sam would think when he saw her in a dress like this. She wasn’t doing this for Sam. She was simply changing her image to enhance her vocation and her livelihood. “Will you be able to complete a dress by the twenty-sixth?”

  * * *

  The following week included the National Day of Thanksgiving and Prayer. Marlys dressed in her new garment and carried the covered dish she’d had Aunt Mae help her make the short distance to the Cattleman Hotel. The festivities were to begin at noon, and as she approached the corner, the bell in the tower clanged to announce the celebration. The bright sound rang loud across the countryside, and she shivered in expectation. Carriages and wagons were already lined along the street, and a glance to the west showed people had left their conveyances in the churchyard and the empty lot behind Booker & Son, as well.

  She felt more at ease than she would have had she not joined the last two committee meetings, met more people and knew what to expect from this day. Reverend Taggart had been right about the benefits of participating.

  The previous night she’d helped arrange tables and set up the adjacent parlor for children, so she knew the location and layout of the ballroom. The level of voices had already risen to a loud blur of noise, punctuated by occasional laughter.

  An older gentleman in a gray suit greeted her. “Owen Ewing, miss. May I take your coat?”

  He held her wrapped covered dish while she shrugged out of her coat, and they exchanged items. “Thank you, sir.”

  She carried her dish into the ballroom and made her way through the crowd, recognizing a few people here and there.

  They’d erected a stage at the far end of the room and situated row upon row of tables and chairs lengthwise from that point. The centerpieces were heaps of gourds and cornucopias brimming with nuts. Candles scattered throughout the space gave the room a warm glow along with the light from the enormous sparkling glass chandeliers.

  She made her way to the banquet table, where Leah spotted her and motioned her forward. “Marlys!”

  “There are so many people here,” Marlys observed somewhat nervously.

  “The weather held, and we scheduled this event early enough in the day for people to come from all across Webster County,” her new friend replied. “Oh, look here are the Werners.”

  Marlys turned to see the enormous blacksmith in a gray suit and string tie, holding a tiny blanket-wrapped infant on his shoulder. Beside Colton Werner was his petite and pretty wife, holding a delicious-looking cake. Marlys greeted Beatrix in German, and the woman smiled her pleasure.

  “I’m so glad you could make it,” Leah said. “The parlor has been set aside for the children.”

  “Hannah Johnson will be there to get the baby settled,” Marlys told them.

  Beatrix set her cake at the back of the table, and exited with her husband to find the parlor where cradles lined the walls. The committee had asked older children to watch the younger ones, with adults taking turns supervising.

  The food smelled so good, Marlys’s stomach rumbled. She’d spent so much time preparing her dish and getting ready, she hadn’t eaten.

  Will approached her, his ever-present silver-handled cane in hand, and with him was Grace Burgess, who had headed the committee, and a man she’d never seen before. “Have you two met?” Will asked.

  “We have not,” she answered.

  “Dr. Boyd, this is my good friend Noah Burgess. Noah, this is the new lady doctor.”

  Noah extended a hand. “Sorry I haven’t made it into town, doctor. I’m not much for socializing, but Grace wouldn’t let me miss this celebration.”

  “Your Grace kept the committee on their toes,” Marlys told him.

  He smiled at his new wife. Marlys had learned they were newlyweds.

  “You will meet the girls, too,” Grace told her, referring to her twin daughters from a previous marriage. “I believe they’re taking a turn in the baby room.”

  What Pippa magnanimously referred to as the orchestra warmed up, silencing the crowd momentarily, and then the musicians played a few songs.

  Will, Noah and Daniel moved to the stage, where they got everyone’s attention. “We’re excited to celebrate this day with our fellow countrymen,” Will said in a loud, clear voice. “In the words of our president, Mr. Andrew Johnson, ‘The annual period of rest, which we have reached in health and tranquillity, and which is crowned with so many blessings, is by universal consent a convenient and suitable one for cultivating personal piety and practicing public devotion.’”

  Applause broke out, and the crowd cheered.

  Sensing a presence at her side, Marlys turned to find Sam, dressed in a handsome black suit and white shirt. From beside him August gave her a smile. His hair was slicked into place, and he wore a shirt and tie with a smartly embroidered vest.

  She gave them both smiles as around them people clapped and cheered.

  After several minutes Daniel raised his hand, quieting the people. “Today is Thursday, the twenty-sixth day of November, and all the people of the United States have set this day aside as a day for public praise, as President Johnson decreed. ‘For thanksgiving, and prayer to the Almighty Creator and Divine Ruler of the Universe, by whose ever-watchful, merciful, and gracious providence alone states and nations, no less than families and individual men, do live and move and have their being.’”

  At the warm touch of Sam’s hand engulfing hers, a tingle went up her arm, and her heart fluttered. She didn’t look aside, but she returned the grasp and held his hand during this important and moving moment. For the first time she truly felt li
ke a part of a community, as though she’d been guided to this place for this moment and for the time to come. Right then and there the future became less daunting, less of an obstacle and more of a promise.

  “And in light of that purpose,” Daniel continued, “Reverend Taggart will lead us in a prayer to set the tone for our gathering.”

  Reverend Taggart climbed the stairs, and in a strong respectful voice, gave God thanks and praise for the rebuilding of the nation, asked for comfort and peace for the people who had lost so much, and asked God’s blessing on the hardworking, God-fearing people of Cowboy Creek and Webster County.

  Marlys doubted there was a dry eye in the ballroom when he’d finished. She clung to Sam’s hand and turned to look up into his dark eyes, glistening with the same emotion she experienced.

  “And now I’ll say a prayer for our meal, and we’ll form two lines and share this bountiful banquet,” Will announced. “After dinner, we have a special performance from our very own Pippa Kendricks, who will sing a selection of songs written by Septimus Winner.” People lowered their heads, and he prayed a blessing over their meal. A chorus of joyful “Amens,” rose from the crowd.

  “Will you do us the honor of sitting with us?” Sam asked.

  “Thank you, yes,” she said to Sam and then repeated it to August in Chinese.

  He grinned and said it back to her perfectly.

  The banquet tables were laden with food. They stood in line, filled their plates, and carried them to where Sam had located empty seats.

  This newest development was as confusing as all the other encounters with Samuel Woods Mason. Had he held her hand before? She didn’t think so, but had she been too self-involved to remember?

  Had he always been this kind?

  There was a commotion at the food tables, but she couldn’t see anything around the crowd. “What happened?” she asked when Sam returned.

  “Beatrix Werner’s cake was overturned on the floor, and it looked like Will was talking her husband down from going after that Eugene kid from Booker & Son. Colton looked fit to be tied, and his wife was near tears.”

  “You think Eugene had something to do with her cake being ruined?”

  “Overheard some of the men saying he’s gotten into a bad crowd, so who’s to say?”

  “Poor Beatrix.”

  “He’ll take care of her. He’s a good man.”

  It took quite a while for everyone to eat and return their plates and settle down for the performance. Pippa’s “orchestra” was a surprisingly talented ensemble including a pianist, a bass player, a flutist and two violinists. She swept on stage in a striking blue satin dress that shone under the chandeliers.

  “Tonight we will perform for you songs by Septimus Winner. This talented songwriter was inspired by the Book of Hebrews and the message of hope to write this first song.”

  The musicians led into the song with a lilting introduction. Pippa took her place, feet planted in a ballerina’s pose, hands loosely together at her waist...and sang.

  “Soft as the voice of an angel, breathing a lesson unheard

  Hope with a gentle persuasion, whispers her comforting word

  Wait till the darkness is over, wait till the tempest is done

  Hope for the sunshine tomorrow, after the darkness is gone

  Whispering hope, oh, how welcome thy voice

  Making my heart in its sorrow rejoice.”

  Marlys listened, barely breathing, to Pippa’s clear exquisite voice and the heart-touching words. The musician played the bridge and she waited for Pippa to continue.

  “If in the dusk of the twilight, dim be the region afar

  Will not the deepening darkness brighten the glimmering star?

  Then when the night is upon us, why should the heart sink away?

  When the dark midnight is over, watch for the breaking of day

  Whispering hope, oh, how welcome thy voice

  Making my heart in its sorrow rejoice.”

  The song ended, the last violin died away in the enormous ballroom, and the crowd sat in silence, a few sniffles the only sound for the longest time. At last someone clapped, and the sound prompted others out of their reverie, and applause filled the room.

  “Did you know she could sing like that?” Sam asked from beside her.

  “She comes to my office twice every week, and I had no idea,” she answered.

  They looked at each other and broke into gleeful smiles.

  Pippa’s other selections included “How Sweet Are the Roses,” “I Set My Heart Upon a Flower” and she ended with the upbeat “Listen to the Mockingbird,” during which a hundred bad whistlers joined in. When she had finished, the crowd cheered and whistled some more. Pippa took her bows and left the stage.

  Marlys clapped along with all the others and glanced at the empty spot beside Sam. She’d been so engrossed with Pippa’s singing, she hadn’t noticed him leaving. “Where’s August?”

  “He took another turn in the baby room. Seems Cowboy Creek is bursting with babies.”

  “More brides, more babies,” she agreed.

  The evening wound down and she collected her now-clean baking dish from the buffet table. Sam and August walked her home.

  Sam retied August’s knitted neck scarf. “Four more days, and it will be December. I have a feeling we haven’t even begun to experience winter in Kansas yet.”

  “And then it will be Christmas, won’t it, Papa?”

  “That it will.”

  “Can we go sledding?”

  “Next time it snows,” Sam promised.

  “Want to come sled with us, Dr. Boyd?”

  She blinked into the darkening sky. “Well.” She looked back at the boy’s eager expression. “I have never gone sledding before, so I guess if you want to teach me, I will do my best.”

  “You’re teaching me Chinese. I can teach you sledding.” His tone was matter-of-fact, but she had to hold back an amused laugh.

  “It sounds like an ideal exchange.” She unlocked her door. “Good night.”

  They wished her a good night, and she went into her office, but she stood at the front window and watched father and son trudge through the twilight toward Eden Street. She relived the moment Sam had taken her hand and held it while the sentiment and emotion of the event encompassed them.

  Why had she never felt those emotions in the past? Why now, after all this time had elapsed? They had both continued with their separate lives and followed their dreams. The war had knocked everyone’s lives out of balance, and they were all picking up the pieces and starting over.

  Starting over.

  She’d begun a new life here in Cowboy Creek. She’d thought her practice was all she’d ever wanted. She’d been so sure. But now she was doubting whether the goals that had meant everything to her for as long as she could remember would be enough to make her feel truly fulfilled. She still wanted to help people, to be the best doctor she could be.

  But now another aspiration had revealed itself, a yearning she’d never anticipated. Never wanted. Whatever this confusing glimpse into another realm of possibility meant, she was intrigued. She’d made friends. She, Marlys Boyd, the peculiar outsider, had made friends. And in those friends’ lives she’d begun to recognize the fulfillment of love and relationships. What it meant for her, she had no idea. The possibility was a little frightening, a lot puzzling. But Marlys liked a challenge.

  Chapter Nine

  It was the first week of December, and Sam left Israel in charge for the morning to visit businesses, the land office and the town clerk to take stock of recent happenings and note properties being sold. Weather had slowed construction, but the train still arrived daily, bringing visitors, new residents and the occasional bride. The citizens took pride in reading abou
t the continual influx and growth of their community, so along with the national and local news, advice about agriculture, housekeeping and everyday living, Sam had developed a popular weekly column he’d titled Boom Town Bulletin.

  It was time to write another installment of Marlys’s story, so midmorning he arrived at her office. She hurried from the back room, wiping her hands on toweling. The interior smelled strongly of a combination of eucalyptus, cedar, jasmine and other scents he couldn’t identify. Her forehead was etched with concern. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m perfectly fine. I thought I’d see if you had a few minutes to continue an interview.”

  “Yes, of course. But if you don’t mind, I’ll continue working while we talk.” She gestured for him to follow her.

  He’d previously been inside the front waiting room and as far as her office, but this venture intrigued him. She used a key to open an enormous storage closet. Three walls of shelves held woven baskets, glass jars, pottery containers of all sizes, all labeled, all in precise rows. Dried herbs and all manner of leaves and roots hung from the ceiling. The powerful smells reminded him of the pleasant scent that always clung to her. She took a pair of shears and snipped a few unidentifiable leaves.

  “What do you want to know?”

  “Tell me about the jobs you worked and the woman you took care of while you were putting yourself through school.”

  “My tasks were not all that interesting.”

  “Trust me with that part.”

  She led him out and locked the storage closet. He followed her to a long counter in another small room. She used a granite mortar and pestle to grind the leaves to a powder, then set out a bowl and added the powder and a few tablespoons of boiling water. He watched in fascination until she covered the bowl with a chipped plate.

  As she worked, she answered questions. “Excuse me for a moment.”

  She disappeared behind one of the closed bathing room doors, and while he couldn’t make out their words, he could tell she was speaking with another woman. She returned, and a gust of warm scented air followed her. “Where were we? Oh, yes.”