Mail-Order Christmas Brides Boxed Set (69 page)

Hannah’s eyes were wistful as she stared at Eleanor. “Can I light it? I’ve never lit a candle.”

Eleanor glanced at Adam and he nodded slightly so she continued, “I think we can make an exception for tomorrow night.” She paused to get more approval and then added, “We can read the Christmas story, too, and, if the night is clear, I can take you outside and let you look through my father’s telescope to see the stars. It was a star that guided the wise men to the baby Jesus.”

“Really?” Hannah’s eyes were wide. “I’ve never seen a star before.”

“Of course you have,” Mrs. Martin interrupted in annoyance. She walked over to where they stood and frowned down at them. “There are stars everywhere. All you have to do is go outside at night and—” The woman’s voice trailed off.

Adam nodded as he put his arm around his daughter. “You probably haven’t done that for a long time.”

“Grandma says I need lots of sleep,” Hannah said, nodding solemnly. “Because I’m sick.”

It was silent again.

“You’re not sick,” Adam said, his words measured. “You’ve been injured, but that’s different than being sick.”

Eleanor wanted to hug the little girl, but she didn’t.

“Don’t tell her she’s not sick,” his mother said impatiently. “What do you know? I’m the one who has to hold her hand and wipe away her tears when some doctor tells her she can do something when it is clear she can’t.” The older woman drew in a breath. “You men don’t know anything about children.”

“What did the doctor say?” Adam asked, his voice sounding stern this time.

“Oh, you know how they are,” his mother said, as she gave a dismissive gesture with her hands. “They don’t understand how difficult it was for Hannah to be thrown from that window. Of course, she can’t be expected to do what the other kids do. And those scars of hers will never go away. Just look at them.”

As she said the last words, Mrs. Martin lifted the hem of Hannah’s nightgown enough to show the puckered scars on her legs. “She’ll never be like the other kids.”

“Oh, but—” Eleanor said without thinking. She’d reacted to the look on Hannah’s face. But once she’d started talking, she knew what she needed to say. She stood up and faced the older woman. “Yes, she will.
Hannah has nothing to worry about. A scar doesn’t mean she’s different, not in any important way.”

Eleanor would have gone on to say she’d seen burned skin like that before and she knew just how well it could heal. But Adam’s mother drew in her breath so sharply it sounded as if she hissed.

Then she glared at Eleanor. “You have no business—”

“Yes, she does,” Adam said firmly as he stood up. “She’s going to be taking care of Hannah. She’ll be her mother.” He paused. “And I’m the one who didn’t get the supplies ordered. I sent a message, but I didn’t confirm it had arrived. Under the circumstances, Eleanor behaved heroically. It was my responsibility.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” his mother said and then turned to look at Eleanor with undisguised hostility. “Everyone knows a wife is responsible for keeping a full larder in the house.”

“I won’t have you talking that way to Eleanor,” Adam said, even though Eleanor knew he hadn’t been able to see the glare his mother had given her.

His mother lifted her chin. “I guess I can’t blame you. I was taken in by her at first, too. Although I certainly don’t know why either one of us was. Anyone can see she’s not much.”

And with that Mrs. Martin swept into the back room, leaving the rest of them to stand there and awkwardly look at each other.

“She doesn’t mean anything by her words,” Adam said stiffly. “I must apologize for her. I expect the trip out here was more tiring than she realized.”

Eleanor nodded. She knew better, but she didn’t feel like criticizing the woman when it was obvious that Adam and Hannah both had strong ties to her. Otherwise, there would be no reason for the tears that were pooling in the girl’s eyes as she stood there.

“We’ve all had a long trip out here,” Eleanor said, forcing her voice to sound cheerful. “That’s no reason for any of us to be sad, though. Christmas is coming tomorrow and we’re going to have some of the best company we could possibly want.”

Hannah blinked and her eyes grew wide. “Who is it?”

“Some girls who want nothing more than to meet you,” Eleanor said and saw the excitement build on Hannah’s face.

“What are their names?” she asked.

“The youngest one is named Mary,” Adam said. “Her sister, Spotted Fawn, named her that after Christmas.”

“Spotted Fawn?” Eleanor looked up in confusion. “Isn’t that—”

Adam nodded. “The two girls are partly Lakota Sioux. They’re Jake’s nieces. They came to live with him when the fighting was so bad with the soldiers. His half brother Red Tail lived and eventually died with the Lakota people.”

Eleanor was stunned. “I’ve never met an Indian before. Do the girls speak—” She stopped, realizing how the question might sound. Her face flushed in embarrassment. She, of all people, should know not to judge someone based on their race. Somewhere some
one was probably asking if an Irish person could speak any kind of language at all.

Adam nodded with a quick glance in her direction. “The girls speak better English than I do. They go to school in Miles City. Spotted Fawn is almost finished with her studies, and I hear she’s set to be a teacher next year if she can find a school to hire her. Mary is quite a bit younger. More Hannah’s age.”

“Do they have any dolls?” the girl asked.

Adam looked down at her. “I don’t know, sweetheart. Did you bring your dolls with you?”

She shook her head. “Grandma said I should leave them in her house ’cause we didn’t have any room in my trunks.”

“I see,” Adam said, his voice telling Eleanor he didn’t approve. She wondered if he, like she, had noted the large number of hat boxes his mother had brought with her.

He didn’t say anything after that.

“We’ll figure out some games for you to play,” Eleanor finally said. “There are lots of things you can do on Christmas.”

Hannah looked at her dubiously. “I never get to play games. Grandma says there’s too much shoving and running. I might get hurt.”

“These will be quiet games,” Eleanor assured her. “You won’t need to worry.”

With that, Hannah started to smile. “I can’t wait for Christmas to get here.”

“Me, neither,” Eleanor said and gave the girl a quick hug.

“Now go get dressed,” Adam said. “We have a lot to do today to get ready.”

Hannah nodded as she turned and limped into the back room.

The room seemed peaceful when it was just her and Adam, she thought as she turned to him. “She’s a delightful child.”

He nodded. “I didn’t realize my mother kept her so restricted, though.”

“Your mother, she—” Eleanor said, not really knowing what she was going to say.

“Leave my mother to me,” Adam said, his voice firm enough that she knew he wasn’t willing to talk about it any longer. “She’ll come around.”

Eleanor nodded even though she knew it wasn’t that simple. His mother didn’t want her here and that wasn’t likely to change. Seeing the tense look on Adam’s face made her realize that he loved his mother despite his frustration with her. Eleanor didn’t believe in splitting up families. Her parents had suffered enough with being rejected by her mother’s family for her to be the one to cause strain in anyone’s family.

She waited for a moment, unsure how to ask what she needed to know.

“Those letters you received,” she finally asked. “The ones that answered your advertisement. Do you still have them?”

Adam frowned. “I think my mother does.”

Eleanor nodded. It would be all right, then. His mother could just send for someone to replace her. She
had enough money in her valise to pay her way back home to Nantucket. After Christmas, she would go. Maybe the Stouts would speak to one of their neighbors. She wasn’t sure she’d have the heart to stay in this territory without Adam and his daughter.

Chapter Five

T
he wind had died down, but Eleanor could see by looking out the partially frosted window that the snow continued to fall steadily. It was mid-morning. After Jake’s visit, they had eaten a silent breakfast of leftover beans and then Adam had gone outside to water the animals and finish unloading the wagon.

Eleanor was glad to be alone. She had slipped into the back room to get her valise while the others were eating. Now Mrs. Martin and Hannah were in the back room and she figured they were napping since the older woman had insisted Eleanor keep the kitten out while they slept. No one had said anything about the beans; they’d just sat down and eaten what she had served.

After everyone left the table, Eleanor took her valise and carefully set it beside the Christmas tree. She felt better when she had her mother’s opera gloves and her father’s telescope nearby.

Until now, she’d never felt poor when she had those things with her. It stiffened her resolve to know
Adam’s mother would think neither one of them were worth packing across the country. But what did the woman know of life?

The opera gloves were old, Eleanor had to admit. She used to be able to smell her mother’s lavender perfume when she held those gloves in her hands, even if lately when she brought them out there had been no odor. The seams had become stretched over the years and the cloth was yellowed. Eleanor still liked to hold them as she remembered the stories her parents told of the past. Her mother had worn the gloves before she met Eleanor’s father, in the days when she was a carefree young woman who went to balls and concerts in Boston and New York. Those stories had become like dreams for Eleanor.

As for the telescope, it wasn’t that old, but it was handmade so it would not be important in Mrs. Martin’s estimation, either. Her father often told of how he’d searched for the finest piece of walnut he could find for the casing. Then he’d carved it to the shape he needed and polished it every evening for months. He’d saved a full year before sending away for the magnifying pieces he needed. Then he’d put everything together in the gardening shed of her mother’s old home. The first star he’d seen, he never tired of telling her, had been the one that shone down on the rose garden where he’d first kissed her mother.

She wondered what her parents would think of the situation she was in now. They’d both been such romantics; they probably would have understood the impulse that had led her to this place in the Montana
territory. Now that she knew the troubles in this small family, though, she suspected they would agree that she should leave after Christmas.

She stood there for a minute until the kitten came up and rubbed against her ankles. She bent down to pick it up.

“It’s just you and me again, my friend,” she whispered to the animal as she carried it over to the stool and sat down with it in her lap. She would need to write her friend from the train, Felicity Sawyer, and let her know things hadn’t come to pass as she had thought they would on the banks of Dry Creek. When they went into Miles City, she would have to go to the mercantile and ask if a letter had come from Felicity.

Eleanor sat there, listening to the kitten’s purr and feeling the warmth of the fire. She had not felt so alone even after her father died. The tears in Hannah’s eyes earlier today made her remember the times she’d caught her mother crying. It was no small thing to be torn from the only family a girl or a young woman knew. Eleanor had always suspected that her mother had not believed her parents would so thoroughly disown her when she chose to marry a gardener.

Families should be forever, Eleanor thought. Regardless of who married who.

The temperature dropped as she sat on the stool, petting the kitten, and wondering when she should leave. Finally Eleanor got up and put more wood on the fire. There was certainly no way she could go anywhere today. And she had promised Hannah a good Christmas tomorrow.

But before she worried about the holiday, Eleanor needed to put some more beans on the back of the stove so they would have something to eat tonight. She’d left the cloth bag that held the beans on the shelf near the table and she walked over and reached up to take it down.

As she stepped to the stove, she looked at the water bucket she kept next to the wood box. It was close to the cook stove so that it wouldn’t freeze over, not even at night, but it was almost empty after all of the rose hip tea she’d made this morning.

She knew people sometimes melted snow for their drinking water, but she felt better getting it from the creek. She took one last look out the window. The snow seemed to be slowing. At least she could see farther than she had been able to earlier. She should be able to go down to the creek and find her way back easily.

She might think more clearly after she’d had a brisk walk, anyway. Eleanor brought her wool scarf out of her valise and was wrapping it around her ears when the door opened and Adam stepped inside.

“I had some green coffee in my saddle bags.” Adam walked over to the table and set a small leather pouch down. “Its army issue, but I expect the Hargroves are used to it. Most folks hereabouts are.”

She stopped winding her scarf around her neck and stared at him. “I’ve never heard of green coffee.”

He nodded and snowflakes fell off his hair. “It keeps longer than the roasted beans so it’s what we take on patrol. Cheaper, too, since it’s not dried the same. I even have some hardtack left. And, of course,
your tea will be welcome. The Hargroves won’t expect much.”

“But they should expect something,” Eleanor protested. Then—just like that—she had an idea. “I can do better.”

She wasn’t sure there were any fish left in the creek, but she was going to find out just as soon as she could slip away from the cabin.

“I know we’d like it to be better,” Adam said patiently. “But they understand that I just got here and we haven’t had time to set up our home yet. They’ll be grateful for a plate of beans if it’s served in friendship.”

His response was so different from his mother’s that Eleanor looked at him for any trace of censure in his eyes. She didn’t see any, but she wasn’t sure why he was being so kind about all of this. “You told me to get your house ready for Christmas. That’s tomorrow. Most men would be upset that I haven’t done what they had asked.”