Montana Sky Christmas: A Sweetwater Springs Short Story Collection (16 page)

Pepe and Lucia bundled up in their outer garments and then headed outside to the barn. Many feet had worn a path through the snow, making the journey easy, although slushy. Pepe wished he could take Lucia’s hand, but the single back window in the cabin overlooked the barnyard. He had no doubt curious eyes followed their progress.

During the long drive from the Thompson ranch, Pepe had rehearsed his speech, and he felt as confident of his words as a man could be at such an important time. Although he wasn’t as confident of her answer. But the last few minutes had given him some hope, adding bounce to his step.

Inside the barn, the sturdy walls blocked the wind. Inhaling the familiar stable aroma made Pepe relax. Greatly daring, he took Lucia’s hand. Even through their gloves, he felt a charge of fire at their touch that burned all the way through him.

Pepe felt strong, powerful even, as he led her to the sleigh. Curious horses stuck their noses over their stall doors. Normally, Pepe would have stopped for a rub and a chat with each one. Someone had hung a fat red bow on the door of a box stall.
Must be one of Addison’s prize mares or stallions
, Pepe absently thought, happy beyond words that he was actually holding hands with Lucia.

Passing a stall with a particularly pungent odor of manure made Pepe falter, realizing a barn wasn’t the most romantic place to propose. Then he remembered the Savior born on this very night so long ago, and he figured if God could choose a stable for such an important miracle, he could too.

When they reached the sleigh, Pepe picked up the burlap sack containing the Madonna and handed it to her.

Like a child, Lucia gave an excited wiggle, and, unlike her sister, eagerly opened her present. When the sack fell away to reveal the statue, she squealed, then fell silent in obvious awe. “Pepe, she’s beautiful.”

Lucia’s voice sounded melodious to his ears.

“I don’t think the cathedrals in Europe have statues more lovely.”

Pepe didn’t know anything about cathedrals in Europe, and he doubted she did either. But the sincerity of the compliment lifted his spirits. Judging the time was right, he took the Madonna from her hands and set it on top of a nearby tall stack of straw bales.

The Blessed Virgin’s serene face gazed down upon them.

Taking both of Lucia hands, Pepe launched into his speech. “Lucia, I’ve long admired you…”

Lucia shyly looked down. “Only admire?” she asked, a teasing lilt in her voice.

“Not just admired…loved.” Pepe rushed out his next line. “I’ve long thought of marriage.”
 

She gave him a sideways sweep of her eyelashes and a flirtatious smile.

Caught off guard, Pepe fumbled for the next sentence. He’d lost the flow of his speech and groped around his brain to find it.

“Marriage?” she prompted, still looking down.

“I’d like to marry you, Lucia. I’ve—”

She raised her face. Her dark eyes glowed, and pink tinged her cheeks. “S
í.”

He stuttered to a stop, and then firmly reached for his next sentence. “I’ve saved—”

“
Sí
, Pepe!”

Half-exasperated, he dropped his carefully prepared speech. “
Sí
, what?”

“Yes, I will marry you.” She enunciated each word in English as if to make him understand.

Pepe couldn’t have been more surprised if a horse had kicked him across the barn. “But, wait,” he stammered in protest. “I didn’t ask you. I didn’t kneel. I didn’t tell you about the money I’ve saved.”

Lucia’s smile looked warm and wise, and not shy at all. She reached up and cradled his cheeks between her gloved hands. “I’ve waited a long time for you to approach me, Pepe.”

Dumbfounded, he looked at her…at the love in her eyes. All he could do was stare at her beauty.

 
“I don’t care about living in a stable. The Holy Family did it, and so can we. Maybe our first son will be born in a stable too. We can name him Jesús.”

Those words snapped Pepe back to reality. His mind balked at the thought of a baby in the livery, especially one named after the Savior.
Thank goodness babies take time before they appear.

In a daze, he put his arms around her. “Are you never going to let me finish what I have to say?”

Lucia laughed, the sound husky and infectious.

Pepe grinned and dropped a tentative kiss on her forehead.

Breathing out a sigh, she relaxed against him.

Emboldened, he brushed her lips with a gentle kiss, then closed his eyes and lowered his cheek to rest on her head. “I was going to build you a house before we married…”

She pulled away to look up at him, her eyes wide. “A house?”

He told her about Señor Mack’s gift, and his plans for the coming months.

Lucia stepped back and put her hands on her hips. “I’m not waiting over a year to get married, Pepe Sanchez. You and Señor Mack need a woman to take care of you. Señor Mack is too thin.”

“Hey,” Pepe protested. “I take good care of us.”

“I know.” Her expression softened. But now with me to take care of you both, you can…” She waved her hand at the Madonna. “Make more.”

Amused at this unknown assertive side of his wife-to-be, Pepe held up his hands in a gesture of surrender.

With a joyous laugh, she grabbed his hands, swinging them wide, then together. “Father Fredrick comes in two weeks.”

Two weeks!
 

Lucia was like a flash flood, knocking him off his feet and sweeping him downstream. He couldn’t even catch his breath. He scrambled to change his carefully thought-out course for the next year and swim with the impetuous suggestions of his lady.
Heck, I’m already in the water. Why not plunge all the way in
. “Two weeks,” he agreed, knowing his life was about to change in more ways than he’d imagined. “I’ll need to ask your father’s permission. Will he agree?”

“
Si
, he will.” Lucia reached up for the Madonna with one hand, and slipped her other hand in his. She took two steps toward the barn door, and then gave him a tug to follow. “Let’s go tell everyone.”

Pepe sent a prayer of thanksgiving to the Lord and his Blessed Mother. Then, handing the reins of his heart over to his beloved, he allowed himself to be led toward the small house, to the people he soon would call family.

A CHRISTMAS PAGEANT

Banished from her own kitchen by her husband, Nick, and the new housekeeper her brother had sent out from Boston, Elizabeth Sanders placed a hand over her bulging belly and walked with care into the parlor. Even the beauty of the room, furnished with her favorite belongings, didn’t give Elizabeth the usual lift to her spirits.

She paused by a blue velvet wing chair, debating whether to sit and read. But she’d finished the latest book and felt too restless for sedentary activity. Nick had promised a walk with her later, but he had a mare to shoe first. He’d forbidden her to walk alone lest she slip on the ice.

If ever there was an overprotective husband…
But even as Elizabeth chafed at the restrictions Nick imposed, deep down she agreed. The baby kicked, and she smoothed her hand over the spot. This long-awaited child, the one she’d given up hope for when her fiancé died so long ago, was a little miracle made by the unexpected love she’d found here in Montana. Elizabeth felt as fiercely protective of the child as Nick did. She just was tired of her body looking bigger than a horse and was impatient for the baby to make an appearance.

Just two more months….

Elizabeth wandered over to the piano and sat on the bench. She began to play one of Chopin’s nocturnes, and then her fingers flowed into the hymn they’d sung in church last Sunday, and from there to a Christmas Carol. In the middle of “O Come All Ye Faithful,” an idea came to her, and she stopped mid-chord.

I can organize a Christmas Pageant.
Her mind flew over ways and means, thinking of choirs and decorations and presents. She’d need Reverend Norton’s permission, of course, but that shouldn’t be a problem.

Elizabeth hurried into her sitting room, situated next to the parlor, opened the drawer of the desk, and pulled out sheets of paper and a pencil. Perching on the edge of her desk chair, she began a list of everything she’d need and everyone who could help her.

The click of boot heels on the wooden floor tore her attention from what she was doing. Nick appeared in the doorway. He’d discarded his coat, and his navy-colored shirt made his green eyes turn blue. He raised an eyebrow. “Let me guess. You wrote Genia yesterday, so today must be a letter to Sylvia?” He referred to Elizabeth’s dear friend in Boston.

Elizabeth held out a hand in his direction, which he clasped. His fingers were cold from being outside. Even after a year of marriage, she still warmed to his touch. “I’ll write to Sylvia later. I’m making a list for Christmas.”

He glanced down at the paper. “That’s a mighty long list, my love. Remember that I’m only a poor rancher.”

She wrinkled her nose. “It’s not for
me
. I’ve decided Sweetwater Springs needs a Christmas pageant, and I want to organize one.”

Nick released her hand to brush a finger across her cheek. “You’ve been listless lately. Sounds like this is just the thing for you. What do you need me to do?”

“Nothing right now. I’ll talk to Reverend Norton after church tomorrow. If he agrees, I’ll enlist my friends and write to Boston. Sylvia will be glad to help, and she’ll find a way to force Genia’s cooperation as well. I want them to send me some toys and clothes and other things I can use as presents. Enough for everyone.”

“That will be some doing. But Christmas isn’t for a month.” He held out his hand to her. “Now, wife. It’s time for that walk you wanted. The wind’s picking up a bit, so dress warmly. I think we might have a storm by tonight.”

With Nick’s strength to lean on, Elizabeth eased to her feet.
 

He wrapped an arm around her and gently touched her stomach. “Our little shaver keeping busy?”

She made a face at him. “Kicks like a little bronc. But I think she’s sleeping now.”

Nick grinned. “Only two more months.” He leaned over to kiss her, then gave her a husbandly pat on the fanny. “Get going, darlin’.”

~ ~ ~

On Monday after school, Elizabeth stood at the front of the church, facing the rows of children who filled up the front pews. The wintery light from the plain glass windows illuminated the faces turned toward her with expressions varying from boredom to eagerness.

With the help of the teacher, Harriet Gordon, she’d rounded up all the students who’d agreed to be part of the Christmas Choir from their afternoon playtime. Both she and Mrs. Gordon had decided the children needed a fifteen-minute break between school and choir practice to let off steam before sitting longer indoors, and the students were red-cheeked from cold and exertion.

Standing in front of them, Elizabeth had to suppress some unexpected nervousness.

Harriet smiled and nodded encouragement.

Heartened by the gesture of support from the woman who only a few months ago had become a friend, Elizabeth took a breath and explained her idea for the Christmas pageant. Even the most bored-looking boys brightened when she mentioned presents for everyone.

Elizabeth sat down at the piano and played the music for “Away in a Manger.” During lesson time, Mrs. Gordon had already given the children the task of memorizing the words she’d written out on the blackboard.

Once she finished playing the first verse, Elizabeth started over, this time singing the words. When she finished, she stopped. “Now, I want everyone to sing with me.”

The children joined in with more enthusiasm than sound. A few seemed to know the song, but the rest sang too fast or too slow or missed the notes. Trying not to feel overwhelmed by the task she’d set herself, in the next go-round, Elizabeth played the chords to keep the children on the beat.

Soon Elizabeth could distinguish individual voices. Tim Cassidy Thompson’s beautiful soprano rang out, a crystal chime among the gongs. In contrast, his twin brother, Jack, standing next to him, croaked like a frog.

Hunter, the Indian boy the Thompsons adopted, possessed a nice tenor, but he tended to sing flat and not follow the notes.

Not many minutes passed before Daniel Rodriquez was fidgeting and looking out the window. He distracted the children around him. And they started elbowing and poking each other.

Elizabeth glanced at the watch pinned to her shirtwaist and was relieved to see that the half hour was over. She dismissed the children, then collapsed in the front pew, one hand on her swollen belly, and wondered if she’d ever whip this choir into giving a star performance for her Christmas pageant.
I should have started last summer.

Her husband found her in that position. He slid into the pew next to her and took her hand. “Didn’t go so well, sweetheart?”

“How did you know?”

His eyes twinkled. “Don’t you think I know you by now?”

She leaned into him a bit, wishing they were home so he could put his arms around her. They probably shouldn’t hold hands in church either. But since this wasn’t a service, and no one was around to see, she didn’t remove her hand from his.