“Oh, yes! I always loved the cheer Advent added to my holidays when I was a child.” Nora’s brown eyes twinkled. “Tell me more.”
“We’ll have to somehow fashion a large calendar with a little door on each day.” Rebel took a sip of tea, her mind whirling.
Nora bit into a cookie. “We’ll make it out of sturdy wood so this infernal wind won’t blow it over. Yes, that would be best.”
Baby Willow tugged on Rebel’s skirt and she picked her up, closing her arms around the child, inhaling the sweet scent. With effort, she brought her thoughts back to her plan. “Inside each little door will be a name for the person who has treats that day. The children will go to that house.”
“Yes! Yes! And on each Sunday leading up to Christmas, we’ll light one of the four Advent candles.”
“Great idea. I wonder if Skeet Malloy will make us a holder. That blacksmith can make anything. When this storm passes, I’ll ask him. We can get candles from the mercantile.” Rebel carefully untangled black strands of her hair from Willow’s little hand. “We’ll get the children involved. I know, maybe we’ll have them draw for a chance to be the one who lights the candle in church each Sunday.”
“If they fight or misbehave, they’ll have their name removed.” Nora reached for the teapot. “More, Rebel?”
“Yes, thank you.” Rebel moved her cup closer. “Unless I miss my guess, this will teach them to get along better, and I think it’ll fill the town with the Christmas spirit.”
“Absolutely.”
They sipped their tea and discussed the finer details. The more Rebel thought about the idea, the more excited she got. In a way, this would re-create her old Christmases before her life turned dark and ugly.
“Have you seen Martha Truman lately?” Nora asked. “I swear, if that woman gets any bigger, I think she might pop.”
“I’m rooting for a girl for her this time.” Nora sighed. “She has to break the cycle somehow. Ten boys is enough. And boys don’t help their mother like girls do. Lord knows, she can use all the help she can get with Sid gone so much.”
“The other day, Martha confided that she’ll just cry if she has another boy.” Rebel could understand that. She was ready to cry at the drop of a hat anyway.
“It seems like Sid should find a different job besides driving the stagecoach. He needs to be home to corral those rambunctious boys.”
“I agree.” Rebel’s thoughts turned back to Ely’s most recent trouble. “Nora, I don’t know what to do about Ely. He has all this anger inside, and it seems to get more explosive each day. He thinks Travis hung the moon, and when Billy called Travis a no-account, it sent him over the edge.”
“I can imagine. Someone needs to take Billy to task.”
“The boy is taking advantage of Martha’s inability to ride herd over her brood. If we can give all the children projects to accomplish in addition to the Advent calendar, it might help tamp down this urge to be spiteful.”
“What are you thinking about? Drawing, coloring, making something simple?”
“That’s it! They can make each other a gift. There are fourteen children in all. That would be fourteen gifts they each have to make.” Rebel smiled. “I’d say that will keep them too busy to jump on each other with their fists.”
“The boys’ gifts will be easy, but what can they make Violet and Jenny?” Nora asked.
“We should pull in Tally and the other women for input. How about in the morning once we get the kids to school?” The baby squirmed, and Rebel sat her on the rug. “But one idea would be making Jenny and Violet each an ornament for the tree.”
The door opened, and Jack stomped in. Nora went to greet her husband. Rebel always thought Jack was a handsome man with his long brown hair and gray eyes. But what impressed her most was that he treated people with kindness and respect and never looked down on her for having worked in a saloon. Willow squealed and crawled as fast as she could to him. Jack scooped the baby up in his big hands and nuzzled her neck, which made her giggle.
He glanced up and smiled. “Miss Rebel, good to see you.”
“You too, Jack.”
Nora helped him with his coat and hat, and then he came into the warm parlor. “A bad storm out there, but I got the cattle fed and broke the ice on the water.”
“Sweetheart, Rebel has come up with a brilliant idea.” Nora sat down next to him on the sofa and told him about the Advent calendar.
“We’re still working out the details,” Rebel added.
“I love it.” He untangled Willow’s fingers from his mustache. “I never celebrated Advent when I was a boy, but I think it’s a fine thing to teach these kids. I’ll speak to Malloy and see if he can make a holder for the candles from his forge.”
Excitement built inside Rebel. “Thank you, Jack. We’ll also need a large wooden calendar with a little door marking each day that’s big enough for a tiny slip of paper.”
Nora leaned forward, excited. “That sounds like something right up Tobias January’s alley.”
“He loves working with wood and is very good at it.” Rebel loved the jolly old man with his snow-white beard. He and his wife, Belle, had brought Rebel to Hope’s Crossing in their wagon and were like family to her. Both were getting up in years but were determined to do whatever they could to help out and never let age hold them back.
Jack nodded. “Tobias will do an excellent job.”
Rebel stood. “I should get back to Jenny and Ely. Nora, will you open your home for a meeting in the morning? Mine is a bit small, but we can use it if need be.”
“No, here’s fine.” Nora handed Rebel her coat, scarf, and gloves. “Be careful going home.”
“I will.” She kissed Nora’s cheek. “Thanks for the tea and the ear.”
Jack stood. “With luck, this storm will pass soon. Tomorrow should be better.”
Which storm did he have on his mind? The one outside or the one inside?
“I hope so.” Rebel drew her bottom lip into her mouth and asked the question that came so often to her lips. “Have you heard anything from Travis? I’m so worried.”
“No, I’m sorry.” Jack’s gray eyes met hers. “I’m sure he’s all right. Try to stay positive.”
Rebel nodded and stepped out into the ferocious wind that cut through her clothes like a sharp knife. She pulled her coat closer around herself and kept a tight grip on her scarf. Bits of sleet stung her face and took her breath. She could barely see the tall windmill on the left through the haze. Gathering her strength, she aimed herself toward the sod house that crouched in a row with six others at the right of the line of four small businesses.
She’d barely made it six steps when the wind whipped her scarf off. Releasing one of the curses she rarely uttered since leaving the Cimarron saloon, Rebel chased after it, careful not to crumble Nora’s cookies. She couldn’t afford to lose a single thing. It took everything she had to provide for the children. Sobs burst from her mouth, and she stumbled, almost going to her knees.
She fell against the low fence around the church that doubled as a school. When she looked up, a tall man in a Stetson came toward her through the haze. Travis? Her heart leaped into her throat, and her pulse raced. Was it possible?
He reached for her, but before she took his hand, he vanished into the gray, swirling storm.
Thick despair choked her. On top of everything else, she was now seeing things.