The Parson's Christmas Gift (10 page)

Zane greeted his parishioners from the top of the steps of the church. The sanctuary was already cozy from the tiny woodstove and the heat from the seated worshippers, and it might have made more sense to wait there. But he held at the door, and watched for Miss Rose’s buggy to appear from around the little grove of trees.

He checked his watch and thrust it back into his pocket, then stepped into the sanctuary to nod at Abby, her signal to start playing the battered piano. All the hymns sounded tinny, like music that spilled from a city saloon. If he could sell the yearling colt for a fair price come spring, they could get a new organ. Abby played beautifully, but she couldn’t work miracles.

Zane shrugged and smiled at her raised eyebrows. He didn’t know where Miss Rose and Journey were. Miss Rose hadn’t been late since the time her wagon hitch broke. This delay had to be about Journey. About Journey not wanting to come to church.

She’d been less than thrilled when he made a special point to invite her. Now that she was up and about, without a doubt Miss Rose would have her in church, if at all possible. But if she weren’t inclined to come again, he had thought a personal invitation might smooth the way. Something stirred in him at the thought of seeing her face in the pews, and it disconcerted him to know all the reasons for that weren’t strictly pastoral.

Zane glanced again at his timepiece. Eight o’clock. He pulled the bell rope, and the deep ring permeated the air. Just as he turned to walk to the pulpit, he spotted them. The wagon fairly slid over the light coat of fresh snow. He gave the bell another tug and made a slow routine of dusting tiny snowflakes from his suit. He’d have time to greet them before he took his place at the pulpit—if they hurried.

The wagon pulled into the yard, and he stepped down to help Miss Rose. Journey hopped to the ground with a flash of navy skirt before he could offer assistance to the elderly woman. She took her responsibility to Miss Rose seriously. If he could fault her on that, he’d have a clear reason to take his concerns to Miss Rose. Not that she’d listen. Striking a balance between concern for Miss Rose and his overwhelming desire to protect Journey hadn’t proved easy.

“Good morning! You ladies are right on time.” He slid the old woman’s arm through his to escort her into the church.

He thought Journey flushed, but perhaps only the chill in the air was to blame. Whatever the cause, he admired the contrast with her navy dress. She limped a little on the healing leg, yet a gracefulness remained.

“These old bones don’t move so quick as they used to on mornings like this,” Miss Rose told him as they climbed the steps together. “Now, get in there before Sam gets up to take your place.”

He squeezed Miss Rose’s gloved hand and slipped to the front of the congregation before Abby finished playing. He grasped the front corners of the pulpit his father had built for him when he first took over this church and could feel the smooth edges under his tight grip.

Scanning his congregation, he let his gaze rest for a moment on each member, taking a bit more time at the second pew on the left. He could almost see Sarah as she’d looked that first Sunday after her family moved to Walten. Beautiful, strong, full of life. He’d been only too anxious to make a call on the family that first week.

Her family had filed in beside the woman who still occupied that seat. But today another young woman caught his interest—very different from his wife, but still beautiful, still strong and still full of life. And in the same seat.

Zane snapped his gaze to the Bible resting before him. That wasn’t right. His beautiful Sarah; no one could ever compare to her. He hadn’t given anyone a chance to, he supposed. So how was it this strange woman managed to seep into his thoughts so often? Journey was pretty enough, with her copper curls and skin pale like china. Eyes of deep brown. But her long, pointed nose gave her a coltish look. And she was far too mysterious, perhaps even dangerous, to be appealing to him.

He smiled at his flock as the hymn ended. “Good morning, and praise God for it. Let’s begin with prayer.”

He’d have time to figure Journey out later.

A
puff of hot air from the kitchen woodstove hit Journey. The smell of roasting turkey met her as she spooned golden broth over it, humming one of the hymns they’d sung at church on Sunday. She didn’t know the words, but the tune was pretty.

She yawned and rubbed her cheeks into the sleeve of her day dress. Awake before dawn, she determined to cook this bird to perfection for Miss Rose and her guests. Then she’d take her leave to the church, certain it would be deserted at that time of day.

“It smells like Thanksgiving already.”

She swung around with a gasp as the deep voice startled her. Broth dripped from the spoon and sizzled on the edge of the stove.

“Who are you?” She raised the clutched spoon in her hand and backed away.

“Whoa, there!” The man held his hands up in surrender, stepping back himself. “I’m Reed, Rose’s nephew.”

Air left her in a rush, and surely he could hear her heart thunder in her chest. She squinted, trying to make out his features in the gray morning light. Nervous laughter bubbled up in the relief of the moment, making it harder to steady her voice. “Then I guess you’re safe from my spoon, sir.”

His teeth stood out as a smile split his face. “You must be Miss Smith,” he said, pulling a chair over for her. “I am so sorry I frightened you. Aunt Rose mentioned you in her last letter. I came into town late last night and figured I’d let myself in to surprise her this morning. Guess I’m the one who got the surprise.”

She took the offered chair. “You’re not the only one. Miss Rose expected you yesterday.”

“I got tied up with some business. I expect my aunt’s told you I’m a lawman in Virginia City. There’s plenty there to keep a man busy these days.” He paused suddenly. “Now, where are my manners? Please, call me Reed.”

“And you should call me Journey.”

“Right. Journey. How’s the turkey coming?”

“I think it will be cooked in time. I’m glad Abby took care of dressing it and all. I’ve never done anything like that.”

Reed turned to watch the rising sun through the windowpane. “From what my aunt Rose tells me, I’m sure you would’ve managed fine. She and Zane both seem to think you can handle whatever comes your way.”

Journey cleared her throat, not knowing what to say to the older man. “They’ve been very kind.” What else might Zane have said about her to this lawman? “Can I get you something for breakfast?”

“No, thanks. I think I’ll pass this morning, save room for dinner.” He ran a hand over his graying mustache and stubbled chin. “I’m going out to tend to the horses. It’ll keep me from being underfoot. Even an old bachelor like me knows enough to stay out of the kitchen when a woman is cooking.”

She smiled, wondering what kind of sheriff this man was. He didn’t match the image she’d had of a Montana lawman. He seemed friendly, now that she’d had time to recover from her fright. She watched him put on his hat and head out the front door. Maybe he got more results that way.

The real fright was that she’d not heard him. She hadn’t slept so soundly since she was a girl. She thought of the raucous music and giddy laughter of the saloon swelling well into the night and realized maybe not even then. And she’d been caught up in the preparations for the day and missed him coming in behind her. What if he had been Roy? It seemed that the scare of those men at the harvest festival and that feeling of being watched in the weeks following dropped off at the door of this house. She had to stay alert, though. What if Roy really was in town? She hoped not, but she couldn’t rely on wishes.

“I thought I heard you up and about.” Miss Rose’s voice rasped with first morning use and interrupted her thoughts. She’d slept later than usual.

“Good morning. Your nephew has arrived, and I just checked the turkey. It’s coming along fine. Would you like a little something for breakfast?” Journey asked.

“I saw Reed on his way out to the barn. I don’t believe I’ll have anything this morning, thank you. My goodness, as late as I’ve slept this morning, it’ll soon be dinnertime! My Wallace and I never had breakfast on holiday mornings. We’d just have that big dinner meal a little early. It’s mighty hard to sleep on a full stomach if we wait until the evening meal. No, no, you go on, do what you need to.”

She wondered a moment if she shouldn’t fry some eggs anyway, but then decided to take her employer at her word. If she’d learned anything these past two months, she did know Miss Rose wasn’t shy about speaking her mind. She started for the stairs.

“Journey?” Miss Rose called after her.

She paused at the bottom step. “Yes?”

Miss Rose stepped closer, patting her hand as it rested on the carved wooden banister. “Why don’t you wear your Sunday dress—that deep blue one? It brings out the fire in your hair.”

“Ah, yes—yes, ma’am.” Her eyebrow tugged upward in confusion. Was she to stay and serve? Miss Rose had never said, but she’d assumed that once the meal was on the table, she’d be expected to take her leave. But if the occasion called for it, she’d wear her navy dress.

She climbed the stairs and washed her face in the tepid water from the basin and changed from her everyday dress. Then she pulled the tiny mirror from her saddlebag and propped it on the stand Abby had loaned her.

Her thoughts turned to the day ahead as she tugged her brush through tangled curls. She and Miss Rose had been planning and baking for a week. “There’s always reason to thank the Lord,” she’d told Journey. “And it’s real nice to think that all across this great land of ours, folks are stopping and bowing their heads in gratefulness to the Almighty.”

She had never thought about being thankful, let alone considered God. She’d been happy to find this place for the winter, true enough, though it hadn’t been her plan. But she’d run long and hard and made her way. She didn’t blame God, but neither would she give Him any credit.

She stared out the window. The wind blew hard, but the sun felt warmer than the day before. It would be a good day for a ride.

“Journey? Is there anything you need?” Miss Rose’s voice carried up to the room and into her thoughts.

“I’m coming,” she called, fluttering her fingers up her back once more, double-checking the tiny buttons. It wouldn’t do to miss one today especially.

“How can I help?” Journey asked, reaching the bottom of the stairs.

“You’ve done yourself proud, the way you got everything ready for this day. I wondered if there’s anything left that I could help you with before everyone arrives.”

She stretched a hand to pat Miss Rose’s arm but withdrew it before she made contact. Leave it to Miss Rose to ask if
she
needed anything. “I’ve got things under control, I think,” she said. “I’m going to set the table and lay out the pies. Everything else is ready. You go on and finish your primping. Your guests will be here before too long.”

Miss Rose sniffed. “I never primp.” But her slow smile took any bite out of her words. She moved toward her own room.

The clock on the mantel soon chimed eleven. From the kitchen window, she could see Zane and the Norwoods follow one another over the hill. Journey brushed her sweeping skirt for any unseen crumbs and patted the moisture from her face. A tangled curl worked its way free again, and she swept it back.

Journey watched as Reed greeted the men with a slap on the shoulder and leaned over to kiss Abby’s cheek as they made their way to the house. Frosty breath hung before them.

Cold, fresh air blew in as they clomped wet snow from their feet. “Happy Thanksgiving,” Journey said.

Abby swept her into a hug with a quick release. “Happy Thanksgiving! You look lovely, Journey. How did your turkey turn out?”

“I hope it’s as big as Abby says,” Sam said. His mustache twitched with a smile underneath it. “I believe I could eat the entire bird myself. If it’s not burnt, that is.”

Journey laughed. “I think your wife and your pastor may challenge you to it. If I didn’t burn it, that is.”

“I’ll eat it, even if it is burned,” Reed said.

Miss Rose made her appearance, wearing a deep green wool dress fitted around her narrow figure. Her hair was still mostly dark, with the gray framing her face in a wide roll that circled her head like a halo. Journey wondered about her flushed cheeks and hoped Miss Rose wasn’t pushing too hard by hosting such a dinner. Though she’d prepared much of it, the woman had worked along beside her a good bit of the time.

“You look lovely, Miss Rose,” Zane said. “Happy Thanksgiving.”

Journey excused herself to get the meal set on the table. She smiled and took a deep breath as the steam from the roasting turkey puffed into her face. With Abby’s help, she’d learned how to butcher and scald it. It surprised her to have been squeamish about it.

“Can I help?” Abby’s voice startled her, and the lid slipped from her hand, clattering to the floor.

“I was about ready to set everything out. You’ll want to get a good seat.” She wiped her hands on her apron and pulled it over her head.

“That’s why I came. We’re one place setting short.”

Her eyes widened and she mentally checked off the seating arrangement as she pulled plates from the stack. Surely she hadn’t forgotten anyone. “I’ll get another setting. I’m so sorry.”

“I’ll arrange it. You’ve been so busy getting the meal ready that it probably slipped your mind. Everything smells wonderful.” Abby lifted the dishes from her hands and sauntered back to the parlor, where the table had been moved to accommodate everyone.

Journey followed with a platter piled high with stuffing.

Placing the steaming plate to one side, she slid the china and silverware to make room for the extra setting. Again she counted—Miss Rose, Abby, Sam, Zane and Reed. She knew she couldn’t have miscounted when there were only five to begin with. Miss Rose must’ve forgotten to mention the other guest. No matter. It looked as if there would be plenty of food for everyone.

“The turkey is ready. Would you like me to bring it out now, or wait until your other guest arrives?”

“Other guest?” Miss Rose asked.

“The one you need the extra plate for?”

Miss Rose looked at each of her guests from where she sat on the edge of her rocker. “We’re all here—Reed, Zane, Sam, Abby, you and me.”

Journey’s lips parted softly.

“Is there something wrong?” Zane asked.

“No, I thought… That is, I didn’t expect…”

Miss Rose stood. “What do you mean? You didn’t expect to stay?”

“Why, you have to stay!” Abby said. She laid a hand on her arm, as if to hold her there.

Journey smiled. “The hired help doesn’t usually eat with the employer. I thought you had me sit with you at supper because you’d rather that than eat alone.”

“Nonsense. We’re not all that formal here. Not like it is back East. I should’ve made it plain.” Miss Rose moved and motioned the others toward the table. “Besides, you’re more than hired help, Journey. Zane, carry in the turkey and let’s give thanks.”

Journey was scooted into a chair to the left of Miss Rose, at the head of the table. Sam seated Abby across from her. Zane disappeared into the kitchen and returned with the plump turkey, steaming from the platter. He placed it in the center of the table, amid an appreciative dose of sighs. He sat beside her, and Reed took the seat at the end of the table opposite his aunt.

“Zane, will you ask the blessing?” Miss Rose asked. Journey felt her hand clasped in the woman’s wrinkled one, and saw Miss Rose stretch her other hand to Abby. Abby placed her right hand in Sam’s.

Journey clenched her left hand into a fist. But no one seemed to notice. Zane’s outstretched fingers waited.

Her own fingers loosened and trembled. Zane seemed to take that as permission to pull her hand into his. Journey found it warm and rough. He didn’t clasp her hand but instead let it rest in his open one. She slipped it back into her lap before he could finish saying “Amen.”

Journey reached forward to pass the turkey but stilled as Miss Rose cleared her throat.

“I’d like to take this opportunity to say how happy I am to have you all here,” she began. “My nephew, all the way from his big job in Virginia City. Abby and Sam, who bring back so many memories of me and my Wallace. My pastor and friend, Zane, who’s done so much for me. And, of course, my new friend and boarder, Journey, who grows dearer to me each day. Yes, the Lord has blessed me with so much more than I deserve. And I’m grateful to all of you for the part you play in that.”

Abby squeezed Miss Rose’s hand on the table. “I’m glad you invited us. I’ve been missing my family so much since they moved back East. But since we can’t be with them, it’s good to be with the next best thing.”

“Since we’re talking thanks, I have my share, too,” Sam said. He rubbed his thick fingers together. “God’s been mightily good to me. He’s given me a wife prettier than He should have to look at my face, a beautiful country to live in, good friends and a turkey that ain’t been burned. Yep, I was doing well before the turkey, but that’s an extra blessing.”

Laughter rang around the table. Journey looked at each face. Everyone was so kind to her—perhaps the kindest anyone had been since her mother died. With Mama, too, so much of her time had been spent entertaining saloon customers that Journey found herself alone often. And the way decent folk thought of Mama and what she did, they hadn’t looked very kindly on her daughter with no papa to lay claim to, either. Her pulse skipped at her temple.