| |
DECEMBER 24, 1891
The storm came silently in the night, so that the household awoke to a thick blanket of snow covering the landscape, all sparkling in full sunlight.
“It’s a fairyland,” Clara murmured to herself as she stood looking out of the frosted windows in the great room. For a moment, the spell of it held her there, frozen like the frosty landscape. Then, recalling her first morning thoughts of visiting Daisy, she turned and dashed through the empty kitchen. Grabbing her coat and ramming her feet into the oversized boots, she pushed open the back door, stepping out into the sparkling morning. She gasped at the chilling air filling her lungs.
There were tracks through the snow from the house to the barn. No doubt, Bart was up and already at his chores for the day. She followed in his tracks, managing to keep the knee-high drifts from dumping snow into her boots. A few yards beyond the house, the tracks forked, one set leading to the horse barn, the other to where Daisy and the pups slept.
Light streamed into the barn from the open door. A soft bark came to her as a greeting. Daisy and her pups were curled up in the corner. More blankets, including the one she’d placed across Mr. Kincaid’s shoulders, now made a larger bed for her. Clara turned at the sound of footsteps, but she was disappointed to see Bart and not Graham approach the stall.
“They look mighty fine. Your girl threw some good-looking pups,” he said, grinning, and looking like his rambunctious son, Tommy. “I know Jessie and the children will be interested to see what Santa brought in the night.” He hooked his elbows over the top rail. “Do you know what you’ll be doing with them all?”
Clara sat close to the nest of blankets and reached cautiously over the pile of pups to stroke her Daisy’s head. “I’d like to give one to Rebecca if Mr. and Mrs. Hartmann approve. I know Mr. Kincaid is interested in them to help Alec next year.” She looked up with a sudden thought. “Are you interested in one for your twins?”
Bart’s face screwed up into a grin that was part grimace. “Can you imagine my Tommy taking care of a pup? He’s a little too young. But if Graham keeps them for the herd, I’m sure the children will still enjoy them. They’ll grow up together. To be honest, I’d rather they were Graham’s responsibility and not mine.” He laughed. “I’ve already got my hands full of growing pups.”
By mid-morning, the trail between the house and the barn was well packed down. Jessie and Lena carried the children out to see the puppies, but only after warning them to keep their voices to a whisper. When the whispers became piercing squeals of delight, Bart stepped in and whisked them back to the house. The ranch hands straggled in during the morning to take a peek at the pups, their weather-worn faces all creasing with smiles.
And still, Mr. Kincaid had not come to the barn. Reluctantly, she left Daisy snuggled with her pups and returned to the house.
Jessie was standing with Lena staring out the windows when Clara stepped into the welcome warmth of the kitchen. Jessie wore a pout of disappointment. “If we get any more snow, no one will be willing to travel this far from town,” Jessie said. “And all that food.” Her voice trailed off in a heavy sigh.
“I doubt we have to concern ourselves with that, Jessie. The men won’t let the food go to waste.” Lena turned a worried face to the window again. “I’m not even sure Evan could make it through the drifts.” She swept up Rowena as she ran, giggling past her on a noisy game of chase with her brother. “He’d probably stay in town, rather than risk getting stranded with Rebecca out in the cold.”
“I could ask Bart to go into town.”
Lena shook her head. “No. There’s no reason to send him out. We don’t even know if Evan’s arrived at the station. Maybe I should have gone in a few days ago and stayed with Maddie and David. I’d at least have known when they returned and we could have shared Christmas together.” She turned a sad smile to Jessie. “Reality rarely measures up to our expectations, does it?”
Clara cleared her throat. “Good Morning.”
“I didn’t see you come in,” Lena said. “That’s a special Christmas gift your Daisy gave you.”
Clara considered this for a moment. What right did she have to separate Daisy from her pups? But the reality was, she couldn’t keep them, and she’d need to find good homes for all of them. “Actually, I wanted to ask you how you felt about giving one of the puppies to Rebecca.”
Lena’s eyes brightened. “Really?” She spun to Jessie. “Wouldn’t that make her feel she had something of her very own? Far better than a stuffed animal to cuddle.” She glanced back at Clara. “Are you certain you want to part with one?”
Clara laughed. “What am I going to do with four puppies? And I know you’d provide for it. I’d love to give one to your little girl.”
By late afternoon, snow was falling once again, light fluffy flakes that looked harmless enough. But as the hours passed and the flakes continued to add to last night’s accumulation, Lena’s face grew more concerned. It was Jessie who broke the gloomy atmosphere, when she asked, “Who wants to decorate the cookies?”
Lena sighed and pulled up a smile. “You’re right. There’s no reason to spoil the day by waiting for Evan and Rebecca.”
“That’s right. In fact, they may be eating cookies and cider right now with Maddie and Dr. Reynolds, all snug and warm, sitting in front of their fireplace.” Jessie lay her hand on Lena’s shoulder. “Maybe the snow will stop tonight.”
Clara glanced out the window, thinking that even if it stopped snowing, the drifts would keep Mr. Hartmann in town. But Jessie was right. For the children’s sakes, they had to celebrate.
With fingers and faces smeared with sticky frosting, the children gazed up in wonder at the tree dressed with dancing gingerbread men. Twilight fell as gently as the snow, and still Evan had not returned. Clara watched as Lena struggled to hide her disappointment. Although she read to the children, her voice lacked its usual animation. And Clara frequently caught her casting glances to the window with its view to the road snaking through their valley.
“I think I’d better serve supper, Lena,” Jessie said with a face creased with sympathy. “The ranch hands are going to be powerful hungry if we wait any longer.”
Leaving the children in Clara’s care, Lena followed Jessie into the kitchen.
As the men joined them around the long dining table, the noise and conversation increased, raising everyone’s spirits. Jessie’s usual effervescence returned as she served up slices of roast beef and rich gravy, vegetable souffles, and thick slices of crusty bread. With each dish, the volume of their conversation rose.
Clara still wondered at Mr. Kincaid’s absence, finally finding the courage to lean over and ask Bart at the dining table, “Is Mr. Kincaid all right? I haven’t seen him all afternoon.”
“He’s been out tending a sick ewe since late morning, out in the sheep barn. I’m not sure anyone thought to tell him to come for dinner,” he said, looking embarrassed for having forgotten. “I’ll go out and check on him.”
Jessie called from the kitchen, “Bart, would you cut the turkey?”
Bart shook his head. “How many courses did the woman plan?”
“I’ll go. You help your wife,” Clara said, even as she said it wondering if it was prudent.
“You sure you want to? The temperature is dropping again. I could send one of the men.”
“I’d like to check in on the puppies again, and I can take him a plate of food.”
Bart looked uncertain, his eyes darting from the kitchen and back to Clara.
She laughed. “Don’t worry. I’ll dress warm and take a lantern so I don’t stray into a snow drift.”
He gave her a nod of thanks before heading off to the kitchen.
The sheep barn was well out from the house, being the most recently constructed. She followed the tracks in the snow until she saw light streaming out through cracks around the windows. The door creaked as she opened it and stepped inside. “Mr. Kincaid, are you here?”
“Back here. Watch your step. The straw hasn’t been mucked today.” His deep laugh reached out to her from the back of the barn. “You might end up with your boots caked with more than snow.”
She held the lantern before her, navigating through the sheep. He was standing at the back of a smaller stall tucked under the sloping eaves. She stopped at the gate, feeling rather foolish holding the plate when she realized he’d have nowhere clean to set it. “I brought you a little dinner.”
“That was thoughtful of you. Thank you.” He took the plate from her and she pulled a fork from her pocket, passing it to him. It didn’t seem to bother him that there was no table or chair, and he must have been hungry, because he dug in eagerly.
“What’s wrong with her?”
“Stomach problems. Nothing you want to know about.”
She looked at him, saw something in the set of his jaw and decided he was probably correct. She settled for asking, “Do you think she’ll make it?”
“Aye. I do now. It was touch and go for a while, but the ewe’s a healthy one.”
He rubbed his hand along his pants and picked up the slice of bread, taking a generous bite. She looked away, recalling her earlier thoughts of the day, how her parents would have judged him as uncouth.
Embarrassed now for having come, she tried to think of something to say,. “Mrs. Hartmann is worried that her husband won’t make it here in time for Christmas. I think she’s very disappointed.”
Giving out a little yelp of surprise, she jumped as one of the sheep bumped up against her legs.
He chuckled. “They don’t understand social etiquette.” He handed her the empty plate and stepped out of the stall. “I’ll walk you back to the house and make sure you don’t get lost along the way. It’s easy to do in fresh snow like this.” Taking the lantern from her hand, he invited her to take his arm.
They wove through the sleeping sheep, the lantern light showing the way, and he led her back through the barn and into the dark night.
As she’d done before, Clara was careful to keep to the tracks, but she also held tight to Mr. Kincaid’s arm. The only sound was the crunching of their boots. Storm clouds had moved to the south, and stars were twinkling above them in a velvet sky. Lights from the house spilled out windows, casting golden patches on a white blanket of snow.
“It’s so quiet,” she whispered. “Peaceful.”
He pulled up, turning his face to the heavens. She followed his gaze and her breath caught at the sight. So vast an array of stars as to be both terrifying and inspirational in the same moment.
He whispered, “Is it any wonder that the angels’ first words to the shepherds were, ‘Fear not’?”
She’d not thought of how significant such a night might be to a man who made his living tending flocks. Were those shepherds of long ago like Graham Kincaid, humble and unappreciated? And yet, it was to such men that the angels had been sent with the good news. Why them and not the wise and learned men? But she’d misjudged him. His reticence was not a reflection of his lack of education. And any perception of coarseness was not an absence of manners, but the practical nature of his work with the beasts in his care. It was this quiet strength, she mused, that drew her to him.
Clara shivered, grateful for the closeness of Mr. Kincaid as he held her arm looped through his. But it wasn’t the cold that made her tremble. Even as her teeth chattered, she understood. She felt a wondrous excitement, something so unexpected to be this attracted to the shepherd beside her. He was so unlike any man she imagined would one day win her heart. Was that what he’d done? Had he captured her heart?
As she took the slippery steps to the porch, he supported her arm. But he made no move to follow her beyond the steps. She turned to him and asked, “Aren’t you going to come inside? All the ranch hands are here.”
With a rueful grin, he ran a hand down his stubbled cheeks. “I’m not quite presentable. What I need is a good wash and long night’s rest.”
His voice conveyed the weariness she saw in his eyes. She suspected that he’d not slept at all last night. “Then tomorrow? Will you celebrate Christmas with us?”
“Aye. I’ll be there.”
He waited until she was inside the house before he turned to go, a refined and even gallant gesture. She slipped quietly to the nearest window where she could watch him cross the yard on his way to the wash house. His steps were slow and plodding, again confirming her suspicions that he’d not slept. She watched until he became a faint, dark figure against the white blanket of snow.
How could he continue to surprise her? At once provincial and, yet, profound. Coarse one moment and in the next exhibiting the manners of a gentleman. He’d changed so much since she’d first met him. She laughed aloud. The obvious truth had evaded her until now. The change was not in him, but in her. And she decided that it was a welcome change, one long overdue.