Western Christmas Brides
A tremendous sense of satisfaction grew inside of him as he once again recalled touching her stomach. Feeling the baby move. He couldn’t believe that had happened. Knew it shouldn’t have happened, because every time he looked at her, he was reminded of another young girl carrying a baby. One he’d been ready to claim as his own.
A gust of wind caught him off guard. Teddy tightened his hold on the papers and blocks of wood in his hands, but relentless, the wind won and the bottom piece of paper caught the air. Teddy hurried after it, and stopped it with a stomp of one foot. While bending down to pick it up, he paused. Rather than a drawing, this one held writing. Neat and stylish penmanship he instantly recognized as Hannah’s.
He grasped the paper and turned about, all set to return it to her, until he scanned the sheet a bit more closely.
A shiver that had nothing to do with the blustery wind, or the bits of ice it tossed about, raced across his shoulders. It was a list of men. Of men he knew full well were actively looking for a wife. And his name wasn’t on it.
That should make him happy, yet his shoulders slumped as his gaze bounced between Brett’s house and the list a couple times.
“What are you studying so hard?”
Teddy spun around at the sound of Brett’s voice. Teddy had said he’d stop by on his way back and knew Brett would be watching for him. Stuffing the paper into his pocket, he replied, “Just a list.”
“Of Hannah’s drawings?”
He gestured to his arm load. “Got them all right here.”
“I was just walking over to check on you. You were there quite a while.”
“She offered me a cup of coffee and I accepted.”
With black hair and shoulders as broad as the back end of a horse, Brett towered over most men in town. His size didn’t intimidate Teddy, but he did respect Brett, and valued their friendship.
As Brett glanced toward his house again, Teddy said, “I’ve already spoken to Abigail. She won’t request so many etchings all at one time again. I hadn’t realized it was so many.”
“Make sure she doesn’t,” Brett said. “Hannah’s time is getting closer and she needs her rest.”
“When did you become a doctor?”
Brett grinned. “I’m not, but I should be with half the women in town asking about Hannah and giving me advice about what she needs to do, including my own wife.” Brett’s face turned serious. “Hannah’s become awfully quiet lately, like she was when she first arrived. I’m worried about her, Teddy. Real worried.”
His heart skipped a beat. “Do you think she’s ill?”
“Fiona says she’s not. But she’s back to barely eating enough to keep a bird alive.”
Recalling something Hannah had said, Teddy suggested, “Maybe she’s homesick. She mentioned thinking about the holidays back home.”
“That could be it,” Brett said, turning about.
Teddy fell into step beside his friend. Brett’s blacksmith shop as well as the feed store he owned was on the edge of town and only a short distance from his house.
Most of the blacksmithing took place in the lean-to, and as they skirted the far wall, Teddy let out a whistle. “That wind is brutal today.” Thankful to be out of the biting wind he moved closer to the blazing fire in the open forge in the center of the open area.
“Yeah, it is,” Brett replied. “Homesick, huh?”
Teddy nodded. “The first few holidays after our parents died were hard for me and Abigail.”
“That’s why Fiona suggested inviting you to Thanksgiving,” Brett said as he rubbed his chin. “She thought the company would do Hannah good. I’ll talk to her about inviting others.”
Teddy’s first instinct had been to say no when Brett had invited him to Thanksgiving, but out of respect, he’d said yes. Now his concern was for Hannah. “I don’t know about that,” he said. “Too many would just be more work for her and Fiona.”
“That’s true,” Brett said.
“And don’t forget the recital at the school that afternoon. There will be a lot of people there.”
“It would be impossible to forget about that,” Brett said, grinning. “Rhett and Wyatt have been practicing their lines so often I know Lincoln’s proclamation by heart.”
Teddy laughed. Brett had taken to Fiona’s two boys as soon as they’d hit town, and treated them as if they were his own. Teddy turned to stare into the flames of the fire. He’d been willing to do that once. Love a child that wasn’t his. It hadn’t come to be, though. A week before the wedding, the real father had shown up. He’d stepped back, told Becky he understood and buried the pain of rejection.
To others Becky may only have been a barmaid who’d gotten herself into the family way, but she’d been more than that to him. He’d fallen in love with her, and when she’d first said she was going to have a baby, he’d thought he was the father. She’d insisted he wasn’t. That it was a cowboy who had visited her regularly, but hadn’t come back since she told him about the baby. Without any contemplation, he’d told her not to worry, that he’d marry her and claim the baby as his own, and had set plans in place to do just that.
Shaking aside ghosts of the past, Teddy moved away from the forge. “I better get these over to the office,” he said.
“Thanks, Teddy,” Brett said. “You’ve been a good friend, and helped Hannah out by letting her make those etchings.”
“She’s very good at it,” he answered honestly.
Brett nodded. “She is, but...”
The hair on the back of his neck tingled. “But what?”
Brett seemed to shrink a bit as he shook his head slowly. “Hannah’s been through some rough times.”
“Well, she seems to have handled it well,” Teddy replied. “Maybe she’s stronger than she looks.”
Brett shook his head with more purpose this time. “You haven’t heard her crying herself to sleep at night.”
Teddy had no answer for that, and the paper in his pocket suddenly felt as hot as the flames of Brett’s forge.
Chapter Three
With so much that needed to be done, Hannah was up early. Quietly, so not to wake Brett and Fiona, whose bedroom was off the kitchen, she stoked up the fire and then gathered a knife and bowl to start cleaning out the three pumpkins sitting on the counter.
She loved all the cooking that went into preparing Thanksgiving dinner. A wave of sadness that she wouldn’t be there to help Gram this year had her squeezing the knife a bit harder as she sliced the top off the first pumpkin. She missed Gram and it made her heart hurt to think of never seeing her and Pappy again. They were the only two people, besides Eric, who truly cared about her. But the warning from her father never to return to her family couldn’t be ignored.
A sound on the porch had her spinning about, and the knock that sounded a moment later had her glancing toward the closed bedroom door before she started across the room.
It was awfully early for company. The sun was just starting to rise. Cautiously, Hannah pulled open the door just wide enough to see who stood there. Her heart thudded at the sight of Teddy.
“T—Mr. White, what are you doing here so early?” she asked, taking a step back, away from the blast of cold air.
The bedroom door opened just then. “Come in, Teddy,” Brett said, poking only his head around the door. “I’ll be right out.”
Teddy stepped into the kitchen and closed the door. “Brett and I are going turkey hunting this morning.” His gaze dropped to her side, to her hand specifically. “Do you always answer the door with a butcher knife in hand?”
His question, or perhaps the twinkle in his eyes, allowed her to relax enough that the air she’d been holding whooshed out. “No, I was cleaning pumpkins,” she answered, using the knife to gesture to the counter.
“Oh, I see,” Teddy said.
She hadn’t made any coffee yet, so couldn’t offer him that, and was in the midst of wondering what to say next and how to maneuver around him when the bedroom door opened and Brett strolled out. She used that opportunity to scurry across the room, hoping the distance would calm her insides.
“Ready to shoot a bird?” Brett asked Teddy.
“I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t,” Teddy replied.
Brett sat down in the chair to pull on his boots. “Hannah, I told Fiona I’ll do the chores when I get back,” he said. “There’s no need for either of you to go out in the cold this morning.”
“We’ll have breakfast ready when you get back,” Fiona said, walking out of the bedroom.
Tall and slender with long brown hair and hazel eyes, Fiona was a pretty woman, but it was her happiness that made her beautiful. It was as if she was part angel the way she floated around, smiling and glowing. Having seven sisters, all married, Hannah had been around a lot of couples, and Brett and Fiona had to love each other more than any two people she’d ever seen. The longer she lived with them, the more deeply she wanted to experience love like that. To have someone look at her the way those two looked at each other.
“There will be plenty for you, too, Teddy,” Fiona said, “so come back hungry.”
“Thank you.”
The sound of his voice sent her heart into another unexpected bout of hammering and Hannah dropped the knife. She caught it before it fell all the way to the floor, but flinched as the blade nicked the end of her finger.
“Are you all right?” Teddy asked, instantly arriving at her side.
“Fine, just clumsy.” Hannah set the knife down, but wrapped the tip of her finger with her other hand. It couldn’t be very deep, so it shouldn’t be bleeding too much. There was no reason for any of this. Not for her heart to pound so hard, or for him to have rushed to her side.
“Let me see,” he insisted.
“It’s nothing, really,” Hannah replied, cautiously unfolding her fingers to take a peek. Relieved, she held the finger up. “See? It’s not even bleeding.”
He took ahold of her hand to give her finger a thorough inspection, and she was glad she’d set the knife down, otherwise she’d have dropped it all over again. Her heart was racing faster than ever, and her hand, where he touched it, burned as if on fire.
“Here, let me see,” Fiona said.
“It’s fine,” Hannah said, pulling her hand to her side as soon as Teddy’s hold relaxed. “Really.” She stepped back, and tried to slow her breathing.
“Well, you men best get going,” Fiona said, while giving her a scrutinizing gaze.
Hannah turned about and moved the pumpkins around just for something to do.
As soon as the men left, Fiona asked, “Are you doing all right? You’ve seemed a bit preoccupied lately.”
Hannah started scraping the inside of a pumpkin. “I’m fine. Just excited about the holidays. They’ve always been my favorite time of the year.” That was true. Despite everything, the joy the holidays always instilled in her was still there. The idea of hope, of miracles happening, still lived within her.
“I’m more excited about them than I’ve ever been.”
Something in Fiona’s soft tone had Hannah turning to look at her. “You haven’t always enjoyed them?”
Fiona shook her head. “Most years they were no different than any other day. There wasn’t the money to have special meals. I always managed to come up with some small gifts for Rhett and Wyatt on Christmas Day, but...” She sighed and wiped her hands on her apron. “That’s in the past. This year will be the best Christmas ever. And Thanksgiving, too. I can’t remember the last time I ate turkey.”
Hannah couldn’t help but notice how Fiona was rubbing her stomach. As their eyes met again, Fiona’s smile grew. Comprehension hit Hannah like a gust of wind. “You’re expecting.”
Fiona glanced over her shoulder, toward the parlor where stairs led to the second floor and the bedrooms Wyatt and Rhett slept in. “Yes, but we haven’t told the boys yet. Haven’t told anyone. Dr. Graham confirmed my suspicions last week. I saw him after attending the quilting club. Brett and I decided we’ll tell the boys on Christmas Day.”
Hannah wiped her hands clean in order to hug her friend. “They will be so happy.”
“I believe they will. So many things have happened this past year, since their father died,” Fiona said. “I’d almost lost hope. Then we moved out here and I married Brett. Some days I pinch myself, just to make sure I’m not dreaming. That my life really is this wonderful.” Fiona pressed a hand to her stomach as they parted. “I love my sons with all my heart, but I can’t say I was ever this excited about being pregnant. With each of them, I worried about feeding them, providing for them. I no longer have those worries, all because of Brett.”
“He loves you very much,” Hannah said. How Brett and Fiona behaved toward one another had influenced her thoughts when it came to considering her options for a possible husband. They were kind to each other, which seemed obvious, but it hadn’t been that way in her family.
Fiona’s smile grew soft. “Brett is so easy to love. At first that seemed so strange to me. He’s the exact opposite of Sam.”
“He is?” Hannah asked. Fiona had made mention of her first husband, but never said much about him.
“Oh, yes,” Fiona said. “But it’s more than that. My love for Brett is different than what I felt for Sam. Love is like that. We can love different people, in different ways. Sam was Rhett and Wyatt’s father, and I will always honor his memory, but I will also embrace my new life for what it is now.” She giggled. “You could say I now look at things with a whole new perspective.” Fiona closed her eyes as she laid both hands on her stomach. “This baby is more than a blessing. It’s a true gift from God.”
Hannah couldn’t help but place a hand on her own stomach and wonder if she would ever look at things with a new perspective. She and Eric had loved each other very much, and planned on leaving Wisconsin, leaving all the hatred between their families behind. The very hatred that had ultimately killed him.
“Oh, listen to me, going on,” Fiona said. “I’m sorry.”
“Why would you be sorry?” As soon as she asked, Hannah read the sadness in Fiona’s eyes.
“Your baby is a blessing, too,” Fiona said. “Just think about it. Our babies will grow up together. They’ll be as close as siblings.”
Hannah forced the smile to remain on her lips. “Yes, yes they will.” It was a wonderful thought, but her baby needed a father before siblings. However, she refused to dampen Fiona’s joy.
A thud sounded overhead and Fiona squeezed her hand. “The boys are awake. I need to start their breakfast.”
Hannah squeezed Fiona’s hand in return. “And I have pumpkins to get in the oven.”
While Fiona made breakfast and sent her boys off to school, Hannah cleaned and baked the pumpkins. The slices were on the counter, cooling so she’d be able to peel and mush the fruit to use for pies, when the door opened. She was glad to not be holding the pan. If hearing Teddy’s voice had made her drop the knife, the sight of him now would have had her dumping the entire pan of pumpkin on the floor.
His eyes were shining like usual, but so were his cheeks. They were red from the cold wind, but it was the smile on his face that made him look even more charming than ever. More handsome.
* * *
Teddy thought he knew what to expect, as they’d only been gone a couple of hours, but the sight of Hannah caught him off guard. The smear of flour across her cheek, along with the apron that made her stomach more prominent, made her look beyond pretty. Beyond beautiful. She looked like a wife. A wife a man would want to come home to. And that had his blood pounding harder than when he’d shot the turkey. He didn’t want a wife, dang it. So why did she make him think along those lines all the time?
His hearing seemed to kick in from nowhere and he turned toward Fiona.
“Yes,” he replied to her question about whether they’d had any luck. “We got a big one. Must be close to thirty pounds.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful,” Fiona replied as she glanced at Hannah. “Isn’t it?”
“Yes,” Hannah said before turning her back on him.
“Where’s Brett?” Fiona asked.
“Getting a tub,” Teddy answered. “He asked me to have you put water on to boil.” His gaze kept bouncing back to Hannah. She was as attractive from the back as she was the front. Her blond hair was tied at the nape of her neck and the long curls hung down her back almost to her apron ties.
“Of course, but he doesn’t plan on cleaning it, does he?” Fiona asked while she added a log to the firebox of the cookstove.
“We figured you two were busy enough,” Teddy answered. “Thought we’d go ahead and clean it.”
“Nonsense.” Fiona crossed the room and grabbed a shawl hanging by the door. “He’s the one who has to work today. I’ll be right back.”
Hannah turned around as the door closed. When their eyes met, he said, “I think we’ll leave them alone for a moment.”
“I think that’s a good idea,” she replied.
The smile on her face made his heart thud. Drawn forward, he paused when she took a step sideways—away from him. Flustered because he shouldn’t be drawn to her, he searched for an excuse as to why he’d moved. Eyeing a kettle on the counter, he said, “I’ll fill this with water and put it on the stove.” He then quickly asked, “How’s your hand?”
She shook her head slightly. “Fine. I’ll get another kettle. If the bird is as large as you say, we’ll need plenty of hot water.”
“It’s as big as I say,” he assured. “One of the biggest turkeys I’ve ever seen.” Setting the pot on the stove, he asked, “Do you like turkey?”
“Of course. Who doesn’t like turkey?”
“I certainly do.” He crossed the room to collect one of the buckets filled with water. “But then there’s not a whole lot I don’t like. How about you?”
“Nothing that I can think of.” She set the second kettle on the stove. “However, I have made some things that weren’t very tasty.”
He laughed while filling both pots with water. “I have, too.”
She frowned. “You cook?”
“Every day.” He set the empty bucket on the table. “Except for the meals I eat at the hotel.”
“What about Abigail? Doesn’t she cook?”
“As little as possible, luckily.” He turned about and smiled. “Her cooking is worse than mine.”
“It is?”
“Abigail’s usually so busy writing, she burns everything.” Noting her frown, he changed the subject while nodding toward the counter. “Are you making pumpkin pies?”
“Yes.” Her smile was as soft as her voice. “Do you like pumpkin pie?”
“It just happens to be my favorite.”
“I’m using my grandmother’s recipe.”
“I can hardly wait.”
Silence encircled around them as they stood there, Hannah near the stove, him next to the table, their gazes locked. He wanted to say something, but the heart in his chest hammered against his rib cage, stealing his ability to form a single rational thought. Other than ones about how blue her eyes were, and how they kept moving slightly, as if she wanted to look away but couldn’t.
The lines of her face were soft and graceful, and the lashes around her eyes long and dark. Her lips were pale pink and glistening. This time he counteracted the pull inside him that had him wanting to step closer to her by resting a hand on the back of a chair.
Like every other time he laid eyes on her, a deep sense of wisdom or logic, or some other sensation he couldn’t quite explain, overcame him. Perhaps it wasn’t her he was drawn to as much as it was her condition. It reminded him of Becky and the baby he’d already looked forward to before she’d told him the wedding was off. That she was marrying the baby’s father. He’d been hurt and disappointed, but never let it show. Abigail had. She’d been furious, and when she had taken out her anger in her newspaper articles, he’d sought out a new town looking for a newspaper. Within a month, he and Abigail had moved. Two years later, they’d moved again, to Oak Grove. When they’d arrived, he’d promised himself, and warned Abigail, this was their last move. He wasn’t hauling that press another mile ever again.
Frustrated that he was remembering all that, and that Hannah was the reason, he glanced away. The best thing that could happen would be for her to marry one of the men on that list she’d written out.
The list was in his pocket, and at the moment seemed to be singeing his thigh. He’d carried it with him every day and thought nonstop about giving it back to her, but—“Who else will be here tomorrow?” he asked.
“No one that I know of,” she answered. “Angus stopped by yesterday, to let us know that he’ll be taking his meal with Maggie and Jackson.”
Angus O’Leary was an eccentric old Irish bachelor who had more money than he had brains. That wasn’t true. Angus was smarter than men half his age, which had to be pushing three-quarters of a century, and he knew how to charm the ladies. Perhaps it was his tall top hat, or his three-piece suits, but women adored the old codger.
Including Hannah.
Every Sunday, and whenever there was a community event, Angus was the one to escort Hannah. Old or not, Angus took his role of keeping others at bay when it came to Hannah seriously, and did a fine job of it.
Up until this moment, Teddy hadn’t considered that. How well Angus kept others at bay, including those on her list.
“Why?” she asked.
“Just making sure there will be plenty of pie for me.” That wasn’t the reason, but he wasn’t exactly sure what his reasons were. Or why it mattered to him at all.
A shy smile formed as she shook her head slightly. “You certainly must like pumpkin pie, Mr. White.”
“I do,” he admitted, “and do you think you could call me Teddy? I assure you it wouldn’t be improper. Most everyone in town does, even Rhett and Wyatt, and you do call Angus by his first name.”
“Yes, I do,” she said. “Because he insists upon it.”
Suddenly it meant a lot to him to have her call him by his first name, too. “Will it help if I insist, too? Because I will.”
She shook her head, but the smile that grew on her lips gave him hope.
A clatter on the back steps and the opening of the door stopped her from answering. Teddy had to swallow a growl of frustration at the interruption as Brett and Fiona walked in. He should be happy about the interruption. Actually, he should just leave.
“My wife and I have come to a compromise,” Brett said, grinning down at Fiona. “She and Hannah will finish making us breakfast while we clean the turkey you shot. How’s that sound, Ted?”
“Sounds like a fair deal to me,” Teddy answered while he gaze once again settled on Hannah. “How does that sound to you, Hannah?”
Her cheeks took on a pink tinge as she nodded. “I believe that is a very fair deal, Teddy.”
Chapter Four
Teddy shut the door of the cupboard he’d thoroughly searched and crossed the room to yell up the stairway. “Abigail, where’s that jar of pickles I bought from Rollie?” Their print shop took up the front two rooms of the building, but the back three rooms as well as the three bedrooms upstairs were their living quarters.
“Why?” Abigail asked as she appeared at the top of the stairs.
“Because I need to take them to Brett’s,” Teddy replied.
Tying the bow of her flowered hat beneath her chin, she started down the stairs. “I ate them.”
“You ate them?”
“Yes. I was up late writing last night and got hungry.”
Normally he didn’t anger easy, but her statement unleashed the coil of frustration that sat inside him lately. “Now what am I supposed to take to Brett’s?”
She shrugged. “I’m sure they’ll have plenty to eat.”
“That’s not the point,” he growled. Overlooking her attitude was not in him today. Hadn’t been the past few days. Never overly pleasant, she’d been even pricklier lately. “It’s good manners to take a gift to the host,” he pointed out.
She rolled her eyes, but said, “You could join the mayor and I at Rollie’s.”
Her attitude irked him. She was his sister, therefore he loved her, but on occasion didn’t like her much. “Is that why you’ve been so testy lately? Because I’m not joining you?”