Acclaim for the authors of Christmas Cowboy Kisses:

CAROLYN DAVIDSON ‘For romance centring on the joys and sorrows of married life, readers can’t do much better than Davidson.’ —RT Book Reviews

‘Her novels go beyond romance

to the depths of the ultimate healing power of love.’

—RT Book Reviews

CAROL ARENS

‘Fans of rollicking romps and rip-roaring adventures in the Wild West are in for one exhilarating read as Arens pits a ditzy Easterner against a rough and rugged bounty hunter. The pace is faster than a lightning bolt, but Arens manages to paint a vivid portrait of the era and bring her characters to life in a short, fast format. Take a deep breath and enjoy!’

—RT Book Reviews on REBEL WITH A CAUSE

‘Arens sweeps readers to another time and place with grit, sweetness, and tender sensuality.’

—RT Book Reviews on RENEGADE MOST WANTED

LAURI ROBINSON

‘By capturing the atmosphere of Colorado’s mining towns, and the unique characters who populated the area, Robinson adds appeal and depth to a delightful Western. There’s enough humour, realism and sweet emotion for fans of light, quick Westerns to make everyone happy.’

—RT Book Reviews on INHERITING A BRIDE

‘Robinson’s heartwarming Western style is perfect for this story of a mail order bride and a proud rancher. The small-town backdrop, an adorable matchmaking teenager and the engaging and often humorous plot are simple and ideal.’

—RT Book Reviews on UNCLAIMED BRIDE

Reading, writing and research—CAROLYN DAVIDSON’s life in three simple words. At least that area of her life having to do with her career as a historical romance author. The rest of her time is divided among husband, family and travel—her husband, of course, holding top priority in her busy schedule. Then there is their church, and the church choir in which they participate. Their sons and daughters, along with assorted spouses, are spread across the eastern half of America, together with numerous grandchildren. Carolyn welcomes mail at her post office box, PO Box 2757, Goose Creek, SC 29445, USA.

While in the third grade CAROL ARENS had a teacher who noted that she ought to spend less time daydreaming and looking out of the window and more time on her sums. Today Carol spends as little time on sums as possible. Daydreaming about plots and characters is still far more interesting to her. Carol lives with her real-life hero husband, Rick, in Southern California, where she was born and raised. She feels blessed to be doing what she loves, with all her children and a growing number of perfect and delightful grandchildren living only a few miles from her front door.

With a degree in early childhood education, LAURI ROBINSON has spent decades working in the non-profit field, and claims once-upon-a-time and happily-ever-after romance novels have always been a form of stress relief. When her husband suggested she write one she took the challenge, and has loved every minute of the journey. Lauri lives in rural Minnesota, where she and her husband spend every spare moment with their three grown sons and four grandchildren.

Christmas Cowboy Kisses

Carolyn Davidson

Carol Arens

Lauri Robinson

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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CONTENTS

A FAMILY FOR CHRISTMAS Carolyn Davidson

A CHRISTMAS MIRACLE Carol Arens

CHRISTMAS WITH HER COWBOY Lauri Robinson

A Family

for Christmas

Carolyn Davidson

Dear Reader,

One of my most beloved memories of childhood was the sight of our Christmas tree on Christmas morning. We never saw the tree before December 25th, nor did we help to decorate it, but come the morning of the big day there it was. Always touching the ceiling, strung with big lights of a sort now out of use, and hung with hundreds of strands of tinsel—put in place by some elf, we decided.

The ornaments were a mixture of heavy German balls in solid colors and glittering spun-glass pieces with gold dust scattered hither and yon. I still have one of my grandmother’s German balls—not the prettiest decoration on the tree these days, but one holding fond memories of a woman much loved and revered in the thoughts of her grandchildren.

There was nothing to equal the scent of our Christmas tree, for it was redolent with the aroma of a pine forest, and we spent long hours lying on the floor long after the gifts were opened, simply enjoying the sight and scent of our tree, which was always “the best ever.” Somehow the trees of today cannot compete with such beauty and majesty. Ah, the joys of childhood that shall forever dwell in our hearts.

Carolyn Davidson

DEDICATION

This story is dedicated to my sister, Nancy, who shares my thoughts of Christmases past.

And, as always, to Mr. Ed, who fills my life with the rare beauty of his love.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Epilogue

Chapter One

Connor’s Falls, Missouri December 18, 1887

It was snowing again. Joy stood at the window and looked out, her hopes of having a Christmas tree fading as she considered the white landscape that seemed unending. October had brought the first snowfall of the year and it had continued, inch by inch, and now lay several feet deep in the drifts by the porch. The tree she’d had her eye on for almost three months was at the edge of the woods, but it might as well be in St. Louis for all the good it did her today. She was tough by her own estimation, but hauling the sled through three feet of snow was an impossibility, even to her hopeful eyes. In all her twenty years, she’d never gone without a Christmas tree. But even though she told herself it wasn’t necessary for celebrating the sacred holiday, she’d still hauled out the decorations from the attic, just in case the snow stopped falling and she could shovel a path to the barn and then make her way from there across the meadow. She turned back to the stove and stirred the sausage gravy she was making for Grandpa’s breakfast. From the sounds of it, Grandpa was moving about in his bedroom directly overhead, where the register caught the early-morning heat from the wood-burning stove she cooked on. He called to her from the top of the staircase and she walked down the short hallway to answer his summons.

“Joy, I can smell sausage cooking up here. Did you make biscuits to go with it?” he asked hopefully as he made his way down the stairs. It was slow going, for he’d passed his eightieth birthday just months ago and he was becoming more frail by the day. In this weather, he had to stay inside, off the porch; in fact, for the most part, he was limited to walking back and forth between his bedroom, the kitchen and the parlor. She reached for his hand just as he touched the floor in the hallway and bent to press a kiss against her cheek.

“You’re a pretty sight to behold this morning,” he said with a chuckle, leaning on her a bit as they made their way back to the kitchen.

She settled him in his chair at the table and poured a cup of coffee, placing it before him as she waved at the nearby window.

“Just look out there, Grandpa. More snow falling this morning. I don’t think I’m going to be able to drag my tree home for Christmas, do you?”

He shook his head. “Not a chance, child. Neither of us is fit to go stomping through the snowbanks out there. Thought sure we’d had our share of the white stuff, but you can’t argue with Mother Nature. The good Lord must have thought we needed an extra helping for Christmas. You can’t argue with the depth of that drift out there. Must be four feet already, and the cow will be anxious for you to make your way to the barn.”

“I know,” Joy said with a sigh. “I’m going to bundle up good and try to shovel off the porch as soon as I get you settled with your biscuits and gravy. I’ll eat mine later, for poor old Daisy will be miserable if I wait much longer.”

“You’ll need my high-top boots, girl,” Grandpa said with a laugh. “Stuff ’em with some socks so they’ll stay on you. And don’t forget to put your shawl over your head. I don’t want you getting another case of the quinsy.”

Joy took two biscuits from the warming oven atop the stove and split them with a fork, then ladled a good helping of sausage gravy over them before she placed them before her grandfather. She brought him a knife and fork and dropped a quick kiss on his head as she headed for the rack by the backdoor. She took down her winter coat and shawl, then tied the shawl over her head as Grandpa had instructed. Her mittens were in her coat pocket, and she slid them on her hands and picked up Grandpa’s boots.

She laughed as she looked up from her task of stuffing his boots with a pair of socks she’d brought out for the purpose, for she’d surely not make it through the snow in her own shoes. The boots slid onto her feet with ease and she was ready. She reached for her broom and the broad shovel she used on the snow and opened the door just far enough to ease through to the porch.

The wind caught her unaware, taking her breath, and she ducked her head, covering her mouth with a fold of the shawl. Propping her broom against the house, she bent with a will to the chore of shoveling the snow that lay over a foot deep on the porch. She’d need only a narrow path to the steps and then, between her broom and the shovel, she’d be able to clear a path to the ground.

The sound of a man’s voice coming from nearby startled her. She brushed snow from her face as she turned in the direction of the sound and saw a stranger approaching through the deep snow.

“Hello, there,” he called, and lifted a hand to wave at her. “I don’t mean any harm, ma’am, but I need some help, I fear.”

He was huge, tall and broad shouldered, and in his arms he carried a child, from the looks of things. “Come on up on the porch,” Joy answered him, immediately worrying that no child should be out in this cold weather. “I was just going out to milk the cow, but I’ll take you inside first. My grandfather is eating breakfast and there’s more than enough for us to share with you.”

Hunched over the child in his arms, the man made his way to the steps and lifted his head to meet Joy’s gaze. “My son is about frozen, I fear,” he said quietly. “I don’t know how long I’ve been walking through the snow. More than an hour, I think. My wagon slewed off the road back a ways and the horse fell and broke his leg. I had to shoot him and that left us without transport. I’m much obliged for your help, ma’am.”

Joy held out her arms for the child he carried and took him quickly to her bosom, turning back to the door to carry him inside. The stranger was behind her as she went back into the kitchen, and her grandfather looked up from his breakfast, a forkful of biscuit halfway to his mouth.

“We have company for breakfast, Grandpa,” Joy said, sitting down on the chair near the door with the child on her lap. “This young’un could do with some warm food in his stomach, I’ll warrant, and so could his father.”

“I can’t thank you enough, ma’am,” the stranger said as he quickly removed his coat and hung it on a spare hook by the door. He took the boy from her and sat on a chair, working at the buttons of his coat, and then shook his head in frustration.

Having taken off her coat and shawl and hung them up, Joy now recognized that her help was needed once more. “I fear my fingers won’t work well enough to undo him,” the boy’s father said, standing once more to deliver the child to Joy’s arms so she could work at his coat herself. He couldn’t be more than three or four, judging from his height. She pulled the scarf from his face and looked down into eyes so blue they were almost purple. His mouth was tight shut and as he looked up at Joy, he opened it. Before he could cry aloud, as she was certain he was about to do, she bent close and whispered words of comfort.

“Hush, sweetheart. I’m only trying to undo you so I can get you warm and feed you some breakfast. Are you hungry?”

He brightened at her words and nodded slowly, as if he was unsure of himself here in this strange place. And well he might be, she thought. The best thing was to slide him from his coat and drop it to the floor, then scoop him from his bundling and settle him near the warm stove.

“There you go,” she said brightly, rising to lift him in her arms. “Look what I have for you here.” She carried him closer to the warmth, his shivers telling her his cold body welcomed the heat. She bent her head to the skillet of sausage gravy still simmering on the stove. “See, there’s your breakfast. Shall I put you on the chair so you can have a plate full of biscuits with gravy on top?”

The boy nodded against her chest, and she felt warmth spread throughout her body from the movement. It seemed that his trust in her would extend as far as breakfast. She backed to the table and placed him on a chair, then found a bowl in the dresser and placed half a biscuit from the warming oven on his dish, cutting it into small pieces before she covered it with sausage gravy and put it before him. He bent his head to inhale the fragrance. It must have been a long time since his father had been able to feed the child, Joy mused, and the tall stranger’s words confirmed her silent thoughts.

“We haven’t eaten since yesterday noontime,” the man said in a hushed tone. “I fear I set off from the farm where we stayed last night without knowledge of the nearest town. I wanted to get an early start, but by the time the snow had covered all the tracks on the road, I was thoroughly lost and had no way of cooking something for us to eat. Then we landed in a ditch and spent the hours till dawn huddled together beneath the overturned wagon.”

“Well, I’ll guarantee you could use something to eat, too, sir,” Joy said, waving at the chair across from the boy’s seat. She handed the boy a spoon from the spoon jar in the center of the table. “Eat up, sweetheart,” she said cheerfully. “It’ll warm your tummy.”

“Let me shovel off your porch first,” the stranger said. “Then I’ll come in and eat while you tell me what else I can do to help you.”

“I’d be much obliged, sir, but I’d feel better about things if you’d eat first. I’d set out to shovel when I heard you calling. I have to milk the cow before much longer, but I’ll feed you first and then you can help me make a path to the barn.”

The man stood hesitantly and walked to the sink. “Then I’ll just wash up a bit first, ma’am, if that’s all right with you.”

Grandpa pushed his chair back a bit, then bent to the lad who sat a foot or so from him and whispered to him in his husky voice, “You’re a fine-looking boy, sure enough. I’ll bet you can eat another biscuit when that one’s gone. Joy made lots this morning. Musta known we’d have company.”

The child looked up at the old man and lifted his small hand to touch Grandpa’s beard. “Is that what it looks like when you haven’t shaved for a long time?” he asked.

Grandpa chuckled. “Sure enough, boy.”

The stranger bent over the sink basin and splashed his hands and face with water from the pump. Joy handed him the jar of soap from beneath the sink and he nodded his thanks as he poured a bit into his hands and scrubbed them together to form a mountain of suds that soon turned dark from the dirt he washed off. She poured a bit more soap on him, and he again rubbed it into suds, which he used to wash his face. She pumped the water again and he rinsed off with the clean flow.

“Come sit down, sir,” she said, taking two biscuits from the warming oven and placing them on the plate that had been before her own chair. “Split these and I’ll dish up some gravy for you.”

He did as she’d told him and watched as she poured a good helping for him. “I’m sure enough thankful for this, ma’am. I fear I’ve not even introduced myself to you and your father.”

“He’s my grandpa, for my parents are both dead and buried,” Joy said quietly.

“Well, I’m Gideon Burnley, and this is my son, Joseph. We’re without my wife, for I lost her when Joseph was born and she’s buried this side of St. Louis, where we had a home.”

“Pleased to make your acquaintance. My name is Joy Watson.”

“How do you happen to be in this neck of the woods?” Grandpa asked, settling back into his chair.

“I decided to head west and look for a bit of land, for we lived in the city and I’d been raised on a farm. I’d been thinking that a new start might work well for us, so I set out with my boy and all the cash I got for our furniture and such to find a place for us to settle. The weather was fine when we started out and I wasn’t expecting the snow to start falling right away, figured we would have a month or so of decent weather to travel first.”

“It’s been a hard winter thus far,” Joy said. “We haven’t had any relief from the snow and ice since October.”

Gideon Burnley took the knife and fork Joy had given him and cut up the food before him. His son, Joseph, spoke up quietly. “Daddy, we forgot to bless our food.”

“So we did, boy. Why don’t you do that now. The good Lord will excuse you from eating first.”

Joseph bent his head and spoke simple words of thanksgiving for the food and then looked up at his father, as if seeking his approval. Gideon nodded his head and smiled. “Go ahead and eat, Joseph.”

Joy found a bowl and fixed herself a biscuit, deciding the cow could wait for another ten minutes, for she was beyond hungry herself. Pouring a cup of coffee, she set it before Gideon and received his thanks. She then filled a glass from the pitcher of milk and offered it to Joseph. He reached for it and drank eagerly, as if it had been a long time since he’d had a glass of milk in his hands.

Joy settled across from her grandfather and quickly ate her own breakfast, then rose to place her empty bowl in the dishpan. She poured a bit of soap into it and added a pan of hot water. The rest of the dirty dishes were added quickly and she fortified herself for the walk to the barn with a last sip of coffee.

“I’m going out to milk now, Grandpa,” she said, touching his shoulder as she passed his chair. “You just sit still and enjoy your coffee, won’t you? I won’t be long.”

“If you’ll hold up a moment, ma’am, I’d like to go ahead of you and make a path for you,” Gideon said, rising from his place to scoop his coat from the hook behind him. He slid into it quickly, then took Joy’s from her and held it for her, easing it onto her arms carefully. She snatched up her shawl and wrapped it around her head, tucking the ends into the front of her coat to provide extra warmth on her chest. She buttoned her coat, stamped her boots into place on her feet and opened the backdoor.

Joy’s heartbeat thudded in her chest as Gideon led the way, for he’d reached for her hand to tug her close behind him. “Hold tight,” he said. “I’ll break the path for you, Joy. Just stay close.”

The man threw off heat like the potbellied stove at the general store and she felt his warmth radiate as she followed him from the kitchen. Stay close. The man had no idea how tempting those words were, Joy thought, and she obeyed him, stepping in his footprints as they made their way across the yard.

In but a few short minutes, Gideon had made a fair-size path halfway to the barn and she took a short detour to the milk house to reach in and snatch up the pail she’d left there last night, ready for this morning’s milking. Gideon looked back at her and grinned.

“We’re almost there, ma’am. Another couple of minutes should do it.”

Joy nodded her agreement, then ducked her head against his back and followed closely behind him. Tall, strong and blessed with a smile that warmed her heart, he tempted her. And though it might be folly to think of him in such a way, she allowed her thoughts to dwell on him and the moments they would share as they worked together, tending her animals. She’d never known such a man, never felt such happiness as she did this very minute, catching his eye as he turned toward her as if to make sure of her well-being.

His mouth curved in a smile. “All right?” he asked. And Joy thought she’d never been so all right in her life.

Chapter Two

The barn loomed before them and Gideon applied his strength to the task of pushing the wide barn door aside, reaching for Joy to draw her close to his side as they entered. She found herself inside the warmth of the barn, which in reality was more of a shed, holding but three stalls and storage space above for hay for the animals. There was a straw stack outside the backdoor, already half gone with months of winter yet to pass before the hay would once more be ready to cut and the wheat ready for harvest. Luckily, their neighbor was good enough to cut the wheat for them and bring a stack of straw to the barnyard for their use, all for allowing him half the harvest.

Gideon spoke to her, his voice booming now that the barn door was closed and the wind was held in abeyance. “I’ll clean out the stalls for you, ma’am, and put hay in the mangers for the animals. It looks like you have a good supply up above.”

“Yes, hopefully it will last until the first cutting of hay in June or July. We cut the last in September and had a good crop to pile up top. It keeps the barn warm and the animals fed. Can’t ask for more than that, can we?” Joy smiled up at Gideon from her perch on the milking stool next to Daisy. She’d tossed an armful of hay into the cow’s manger before sitting down to milk her, and Daisy lowed contentedly as she bent her head to munch on the hay set before her. Joy propped the milk bucket between her knees in preparation for the chore of milking, an event Daisy was more than ready for, according to her low murmurings that Joy understood after long association with the cow. She found herself talking to the animal as she milked, much as she might speak with a friend, knowing that the sound of her voice kept Daisy contented and placid.

Joy looked up as a pair of big feet paused to stand beside her. “I can’t thank you enough for your help,” she said to the man who had worked his way to Daisy’s stall, having already hefted last night’s leavings from the animals out the backdoor. “It would have taken me almost an hour to plow through the snow and get out here, and then I’d have to carry the bucket of milk back and hope I didn’t spill it on the way. I’ve fallen more than once traveling back and forth, and it was much easier to follow in your footsteps and get here so quickly today.”

“I’m more than grateful to you, ma’am, for feeding me and my son and giving us a warm place to roost this morning. I don’t think I’d have lasted much longer if I hadn’t seen your lit window from the road out front. I was about winded from plowing through the drifts and carrying Joseph. I fear we’d have frozen to death had I not caught sight of your place.”

“Well, you’re welcome to stay with Grandpa and me for as long as you need to. We have a loft with plenty of room for you. Grandpa sleeps up there in one room my pa walled off over the kitchen range. It keeps him warm in the winter, and when he opens his window in the good weather, he’s right next to the big maple tree out front and can see and hear the birds in its branches. We use the rest of the space up there for storage and have a bed set up in one corner. It used to be my room before my mother and father died. It seemed like a waste to have their bedroom empty, so I moved downstairs and put my things in their old room a couple of years ago.”

“How long have your folks been gone?” Gideon asked quietly from behind her. She felt the warmth of his big body and wondered if he hadn’t moved to keep the draft from the door off her while she milked Daisy.

“It’s been four years, since I was sixteen. They apparently got hit by a log while they were crossing the stream on their way home from town. It must have tipped the wagon and they were caught beneath the lumber Pa had bought there. The weight of it was too much for them and they drowned before they could get free. Our neighbor found them and managed to pull them from the water, but it was too late to do more than bring them home.”

“We never know why things happen as they do,” Gideon said quietly. “I often wondered why my wife died in childbirth as she did. I had to find a wet nurse for Joseph. She lived with us until he was six months old, when I began to feed him from the table and taught him how to drink from a cup. My housekeeper took over his care when the wet nurse had a chance to go to a family that needed her more. She was a lifesaver for me and for Joseph, of course. But it was good for me to take over his care as much as I could after I came home from work. Mrs. Bates had her hands full with cooking and cleaning and such, so Joseph and I spent a lot of time together. We’ve become much closer than most father and sons, I think. He means the world to me.”

“Well, I’m pleased to have you with us for Christmas, Mr. Burnley. Perhaps you can even help me chop down the tree I’ve had my eye on.”

“First off, why don’t you call me Gideon, ma’am?” he asked nicely.

“I will if you can bring yourself to stop calling me ma’am and call me Joy instead.”

He grinned at her and she was warmed by his smile. She stood and lifted the milk pail, not surprised when he reached to take it from her hand. He placed it by the barn door and then turned back to her.

“Where will I find the straw to put in the stalls?” he asked.

“I’ll show you, Gideon. Follow me.”

She went to the backdoor and slid it open, revealing the small corral and the straw stack that was covered in piles of snow. Gideon set her aside and stepped outdoors, pitchfork in hand. “I’ll toss it in if you can push it to one side until there’s enough for the stalls,” he said. He stuck the pitchfork into the hollowed-out space from which she’d dug straw for the past months and turned back around with the fork piled high. In a quick movement he sent it sailing into the barn and Joy nudged the straw to one side, then awaited the next load.

In just a few minutes Gideon had tossed enough straw inside for the stalls and he came back into the barn, pushing the door closed behind himself. “It’s not so bad out back. The wind is broken by the barn and it makes it easier to work when you’re not being blown hither and yon.” He laughed as he turned to fork up the straw and spread it in the stalls. “This won’t take at all long now. Why don’t you let the cow out of her stall and into the aisleway while I clean her space and then give her a share of this stuff.”

Joy undid Daisy’s lead rope from the manger and backed her up, giving Gideon room to toss the soiled debris from her stall and then replace it with the clean bedding. When he’d completed his chore, she led the cow back to her breakfast and Daisy immediately tucked into the fresh hay, lowing contentedly as she did.

“I’m about done out here,” Joy said. “And it looks to me like you’ve finished all my chores for me, Gideon. I surely do appreciate it. Now to carry this milk into the house. I usually leave it in the milk house until the next milking, but I think I’ll just take it on in with me and let you pick up last night’s bucket from the milk house, if you will. It’s just to the left of the door, with a towel draped over the top. We’ll put them both in the pantry and by tomorrow I’ll have enough cream for churning.”

“I’ll be glad to carry both pails, Joy. I think I can manage if you’ll hold this one while I get the other from the milk house.”

Joy tucked her shawl around her head and inside her coat collar, readying herself for the blast of wind that would surely be waiting on the other side of the door. Gideon led the horse into his stall and closed the door behind him, and then they stood by the wide barn door, both of them obviously dreading the trek back to the house.

“Might as well set out. It’s going to be hard going, no matter how long we wait to begin,” Joy said, inhaling deeply of the warmer air inside the barn. She watched Gideon open the door and pick up the milk pail as he waited for Joy to pass in front of him. She set out, ducking to keep her face inside her warm shawl, away from the blowing snow. Gideon followed closely behind her, his hand grasping her elbow as they made their way to the milk house, where Gideon picked up last night’s milking. As they set off back down the path, which was fast filling with new snow, she looked up, hoping for a break in the heavy clouds that had dumped so much of the white stuff on them in the past weeks. But as it stood, they would have to shovel again tonight to get to the barn.

“I was hoping for some of it to clear, at least enough to allow me to get across the meadow to the trees before Christmas,” she told Gideon, hoping he could hear her voice speaking to him.

Apparently he got the gist of her muttering, for as they stomped their way up onto the porch, he leaned forward enough to answer her. “What do you want to go out across the meadow for, Joy? Is that where you spotted the tree you spoke of earlier?”

She nodded, then opened the door and stood aside, allowing Gideon to carry the milk into the kitchen. She shivered as the heat from inside warmed her suddenly.

After shaking the snow off their coats and hanging them up, they stood in the kitchen grinning foolishly at each other, as if they had surmounted some great task set before them and were celebrating their victory over it. And so they had, Joy decided. They carried the two buckets of milk into the pantry and placed them beneath the shelf, covering the most recent milking with a clean dish towel to keep dust and critters out of it while the cream rose to the top. Then she uncovered last night’s milking and stirred it with a wooden spoon before pouring a good bit of it into the pitcher she kept there for that purpose. It was enough to keep her in milk for baking and drinking for the day. Joy left the rest beneath the shelf and carried the pitcher to the kitchen.

“Would you like some more milk, Joseph?” she asked. “It’s nice and cold from being outdoors, but if you’d rather have it warmed, I can do that for you. In fact, I can put some chocolate in it, and with a spoonful of sugar, you’d have hot cocoa to drink. Would you like that?”

“I’ve never had hot cocoa,” Joseph said eagerly. “Can you show me how you do it?”

“I surely can. Let me put your chair a bit closer to the stove and you can stand up on it and watch me fix it.” It only took her a few seconds to move the chair and prop him up next to her. While she prepared the cocoa, she kept her left arm around his waist lest he fall forward.

“Would you like to share Joseph’s drink, Gideon? I can add another cupful of milk easily enough.”

Joseph turned in her grasp to look over his shoulder at his father and added his plea. “Why don’t you, Daddy. We never had this before, did we? I don’t remember it anyway.”

“No, I suspect we haven’t, son. I’ll be glad to share some with you if Joy doesn’t mind.”

She added the extra milk to the saucepan, along with another scoop of cocoa and some sugar. Joy lifted the saltshaker from the back of the stove and shook it over the pan, as her mother had taught her, the salt enhancing the flavor of the chocolate.

“Would you find some mugs in the dresser, Gideon? The door on the left.”

With a grunt of assent, her guest rose and brought back four thick china cups, which he placed on the table. “I assume you’ll both be joining us,” he said, taking his seat once more.

Grandpa got up from his chair and made his way to the kitchen door. “No, you young folks enjoy your treat while I find my whittling knife and a likely piece of wood to work on,” he said, then walked from the room with the aid of a cane he kept nearby at all times.

Joy lifted Joseph from his perch and set him away from the hot stove before she poured the mugs full, the milk foaming almost to overflowing as she drained the pan. “That ought to do it, gentlemen,” she said with laughter lacing her words. It seemed there was much to be thankful for this morning. Two guests to share the coming days until Christmas and the hope of having a tree this year after all.

“How about a piece of bread and butter to go with your cocoa? I can slice some right quick if you like.”

“Have you the heel handy?” Gideon asked. “Joseph likes the middle of the loaf, but I’ve always been partial to the first slice. My mother used to spread it with butter, right to the edges she always said.” He looked up at Joy with a smile that was strangely tender, as if his thoughts of home and hearth were warming him. “It’s odd how little things stick in your mind, isn’t it, ma’am? I can still see my mother at the stove, standing as you are right now, ready to serve her family.”

She felt the sting of tears as she turned away, her thoughts bittersweet as she recalled her own mother. “Memories are to be cherished, especially the ones that warm us from within,” she said quietly.

“I wish I had a mama to remember,” Joseph said, and Joy sat, reaching across the table to take up his small hand within her own.

“Perhaps one day your father will find a woman fit to be your mother, Joseph. We never know what life has in store for us, and surely a mother isn’t too much for a little boy to hope for.”

Gideon lifted his cup and sipped carefully. “I fear he’ll have to make do with one poor excuse of a father, ma’am,” he said. “I wouldn’t ask any woman to take me on, unless she was looking for a repair-and-restoration project.”

She smiled at him, almost chuckling at the woebegone expression on his face. “Do you think you are such a poor specimen as all that? I see you as a shining example of fatherhood, Gideon. Your son would not be as he is without your influence.”

“My daddy says I’m a good boy,” Joseph said with a speck of pride showing in his shining eyes.

“I’m sure you are. You certainly know how to behave well and that’s about all that can be expected of a child your age,” Joy told him, leaning close to speak to the lad as if he were an equal and would understand her words. She marveled at how she’d misjudged the small boy at first, thinking him to be three or four years old. Gideon had since told her that Joseph was small for his age; he was actually six. That explained his ability to communicate so well, Joy thought.

“Thank you, ma’am,” Joseph said politely, his wide grin showing his delight at her attention.

“Well, I’d better get busy and start something cooking for dinner. These dishes aren’t going to wash themselves and I have dish towels to wash and hang to dry,” Joy said, listing her agenda for the morning.

“I’m a pretty good hand at dishes,” Gideon said, offering his help.

“I’ll take you up on that.” Joy rose and took her cup to the sink, adding it to the pile already awaiting warm water in the dishpan.

As the two adults did the dishes, Joseph watched from his place at the table, not seeming surprised at the sight of his father with his hands in dishwater.

But he totally missed the warm look Gideon bestowed upon the woman who stood beside him, nor would he have understood the message his father sent silently with but a wink of his eye and a subtle twist of his mouth that signified his delight in her.

Chapter Three

The pantry shelves held a multitude of Mason jars, chicken filling some of them, beef and gravy in others, but nothing there seemed to appeal to Joy this morning. She thought of the ham hanging in the smokehouse, the venison hanging on the porch from the latest buck that had stood in her meadow and dared her to take aim in his direction. She’d performed the task ruefully, not looking forward to the chore of dressing out the animal and then dragging it to the yard to wash the meat at the horse trough.

The best part had been the fine hide she’d hung and cleaned, thinking of the slippers and, perhaps, a vest she might make from its soft leather. She’d cooked stew from a hindquarter, sliced slabs from the roasts and spread them out in a flat pan to freeze and even ground up scraps to make venison sausage they had for breakfast when the pork supply ran low. Perhaps a chunk of stew meat would be good for dinner. There were potatoes and carrots left in the cellar, along with several squashes and the pumpkin she planned to cut up and cook for pies for Christmas dinner.

And somehow the thought of Christmas held new visions of cheer as she contemplated cooking for more than just herself and Grandpa. There were several leftover bits of yarn in her knitting basket, surely enough to make a pair of mittens and a cap to match for Joseph. It would be a hodgepodge of colors, but she doubted the boy would mind, so long as the end results kept him warm.

“I think I’ll go out to the porch and cut off a piece of venison for stew,” she said, turning to watch as Gideon wiped the table clean.

“Can I do that for you? It’ll save you getting cold again, and if you’ll tell me how large a piece you need, I’m sure I can handle the job.” His words halted her as she reached for her coat and shawl and she turned to face him, a smile wreathing her face.

“I can see that you’ll come in right handy, sir. I need a piece about the size of that kettle there,” she told him, pointing at her medium saucepan.

“Sounds good to me,” Gideon answered, then reached for his coat and pulled on his hat. Joy found her large butcher knife and handed it to him, then watched as he went out to the porch. It was overcast, with snow still falling, but the light from the kitchen was sufficient to see from the window where he reached for the hanging venison and sliced deftly at it, cutting loose a large piece that would fit readily into her stew pot.

She went to the door to take the meat from him, then sent him back out to the cellar to fetch vegetables for tonight’s dinner. He turned away and held the porch post as he went down the steps and headed for the cellar door next to the porch, careful not to slip and fall on the snow that had already coated the slick wood.

In less than five minutes he reappeared, holding the kettle she’d given him to fill. It almost overflowed with the vegetables she’d asked for, and she opened the door to allow him entrance as he stomped his feet to leave the snow behind on the porch. Again he shook his coat outdoors before he hung it on the hook, and she decided he’d been trained well by some female.

“How far west did you plan to travel, Gideon?” she asked, wondering if his memories were happy ones or if he’d decided to start a new life with his son because of overwhelming sadness in his past. “I know the weather came on quicker than you’d thought it would, with an early winter setting in and putting a stop to your trek.”

“I’d hoped to get closer to the Rockies before winter,” he said. “There’s a lot of land west of here waiting for a man to homestead it.”

“Perhaps you could find a place left behind by folks who have headed back East. There are places like that for sale hereabouts at good prices. Some of them only want the taxes paid.”

“I fear I’m going to have to stay in the area until the snow clears and it’s safe to travel with Joseph. I’d hoped to get farther west in my travels, but if you wouldn’t mind a couple strangers to tend to, we’d surely appreciate staying in the room you mentioned upstairs for the time being. We can pay our own way, for I’ve got a bit of money saved up, plus what I made from the sale of our house.”

His words were welcome ones, though she hadn’t planned on having houseguests. A pair of strong arms to handle the snow shoveling and a willing man to do the chores sounded like manna from heaven this morning.

“I don’t expect you to take me at my word,” Gideon said. “I had my pastor back home write me a letter of introduction and the banker there vouched for me in his note. I didn’t know if I might need some sort of credentials when I found a place to stop. I’ll be glad to show them both to you, Joy, and to whomever you think might be able to verify my word.”

And those papers he spoke of might be faked, she thought cynically, but a long look into the blue eyes that met her own gave her a feeling that they weren’t. He looked like a man of his word. A fellow in search of somewhere to stay until he could find a more permanent place to set down his roots and raise his son.

* * *

Bedtime came at dusk, for Joy had learned to be stingy with the kerosene that fueled the lamps. She curled in the middle of her bed, her thoughts of the man and boy sleeping in the loft enough to warm her. If Gideon took over the chores, she’d have time to spend with his son. Joseph looked to be needing the touch of a woman in his life, and Joy felt a tenderness toward the boy she couldn’t explain.

She awoke at dawn, sliding from the warmth of her quilts to don her dress and wrap a shawl around her shoulders before she made her way to the kitchen. There she found Gideon, busy adding small logs to the fire he’d banked in the stove last evening.

“Good morning,” he said in his low, almost husky voice. “Thought I’d beat you to the punch and have your stove ready to cook on when you got up.”

“I surely appreciate it, Gideon. I’m used to doing everything myself, and though I don’t mean to sound like I’m complaining, I’ll have to admit it will be a pleasure to have some help.”

“I’ll head out to the barn while you fix some breakfast. I heard your grandfather moving around upstairs, so he should be down right shortly. Joseph slept like a log last night and I may have to shake the sheets to get him up when I come in.” As he spoke, he donned his heavy coat, pulled down the knitted hat he wore to cover his ears and the shawl Joy wore outdoors, tucking it around his throat and across his chest beneath his coat.

From the pantry, Joy called out softly, “I’ll have this ready in half an hour or so, and if you’re not in by then, I’ll hold it in the warming oven.”

As Joy prepared breakfast, she looked through the window and caught a glimpse of Gideon shoveling his way to the barn. He moved more quickly this time, tossing fresh snow to either side as he went. The path from last night was still visible, but at least another six inches of snow had fallen.

From upstairs she heard Grandpa’s voice mingling with the youthful tones of Joseph. After a few minutes they made their way down the stairs, the boy holding Grandpa’s arm as if he would keep him erect with his childish strength. Grandpa made a big fuss of him when they arrived in the kitchen, sitting down at the table, Joseph taking the chair next to his.

“This young’un will sure enough come in handy, Joy. He gave me a hand with putting my slippers on and helped me down the stairs.”

Joy smiled, pleased at Grandpa’s welcoming words. Joseph beamed his pleasure as he listened to every syllable passing the old man’s lips. “I like to help when I can,” he said. “My pa says the good Lord expects us to do our best and always lend a helping hand.”

“Your father is a smart man, I’d say,” Joy told him, turning from the stove to smile at him. “He’ll be in shortly for breakfast, probably by the time the biscuits are done.”

“Are we gonna stay here with you?” Joseph asked the old man next to him.

“As long as this weather lasts, I’d say. Your pa will be a big help to Joy. Gettin’ back and forth in the snow is too much for a woman. Joy’s been doing it all along, but if your pa wants to help and ease her load, I’d surely appreciate it.”

The backdoor rattled open and Gideon stepped inside, carrying Joy’s blue-speckled bowl in one hand. He hung his coat and Joy’s shawl on the hook by the door, and then sat to slide from his boots. “Things are looking good out there, Joy,” he said. “I found your pan on top of the chicken coop and gathered the eggs. Fed the chickens first, though, to lure them off their nests. The cow gave me almost a full bucket of milk and I put it in the milk house. Every bit of stock is fed and the barn is warm enough with the heat they put out to keep them all safe and sound.”

“I can’t thank you enough, Gideon,” Joy said sincerely. “Now, get washed up and sit down at the table. I’ll fry up the eggs and we’ll eat.”

* * *

By breakfast time a few days later, the snow was piled up higher than the windows. Finished with his meal, Gideon leaned back in his chair and shot a look at Joy. He was amazed at how quickly they’d settled into a routine, almost like a real family. And now his suggestion would make it feel even more so.

“If you’ve a mind to, we could head out across the meadow after a bit and see to cutting you that tree you’ve got your eye on, ma’am. The wind’s died down some and I think we could make it without any trouble.”

Joy’s heart skipped a beat as she thought of the thrill of decorating the pine she’d marked as her own. “That would be such fun, Gideon. I’d about given up hope of a Christmas tree this year. If you could make that particular dream come true, I’d be most grateful.”

“Can I go, too, Pa?” Joseph wanted to know. His face glowed as he considered the joy of having a real Christmas, tree and all.

“I fear not, Joseph. It’ll be all we can do to make our own way out there, and besides, Grandpa here needs you inside to keep an eye on things while Joy and I are gone.”

“That’s right, sonny.” Grandpa’s words were firm as he backed up Gideon’s stance. “I need somebody to look after me a bit and tote things hither and yon. Maybe you’d like to watch me whittle something to hang on the Christmas tree once your pa drags it into the house.”

“I’d like that, sir,” Joseph said, rising to stand by Grandpa’s chair. “Can I go get your whittling stuff for you?”

He’d apparently watched when Grandpa had wrapped up his knife and the wood he was working with and laid it behind the stove yesterday. Now he waited impatiently for the chance to retrieve it and put Grandpa to work at his task.

Gideon spoke up. “Let’s you and me get going, Joy. I think your grandfather is in good hands, don’t you?”

Joy chuckled as she prepared for the trek across the meadow, bundling up warmly and waiting at the door for Gideon to lead the way.

They made it to the barn quickly, and then Gideon found the bucksaw hanging on the wall. “You ready, ma’am?” he asked with a grin.

“Whenever you are,” Joy said, her heart lifting as she considered the man standing before her. She tilted her face upward and smiled at him. “I’m so glad you’re here, Gideon.”

In a swift movement, he held her shoulders in his hands and bent to her, dropping a quick kiss on her forehead. “So am I,” he said, his voice husky, as if some emotion held him in its grip.

Joy smiled at him again, feeling the residue of warmth he’d left behind on her skin. She felt a blush rise to her cheeks and ducked her head, fussing with her coat buttons as if they needed attention. “Let’s go then,” she said finally, savoring the memory of her first kiss.

Chapter Four

The expedition was a rousing success, for within an hour Gideon had formed a crude tree stand and nailed the small evergreen onto it before carrying it into the house. Joseph clapped his hands with glee as his father carried the tree to the parlor and gave it pride of place before the front window.

Joy and Gideon toted the boxes of decorations from the corner of the parlor where Joy had left them after her foray into the attic in hopes of her dream tree becoming reality. Dishes were forgotten as they gathered in the parlor to place the homemade wooden stars, the gingerbread men and even an angel on the fragrant tree. Joy brought out tinsel left from years gone by and hung it strand by strand on the branches. Gideon found the candleholders and clipped them on the ends of the branches while Joy located the box of candles, most of them with hours of burning left in their slender white lengths.

She found some colored paper left over from another year and showed Joseph how to make chains, cutting the paper and then sealing the loops with paste made of flour and a dab of water. They were soon joined by Gideon, and by the time they’d used up all the heavy paper Joy had saved, the chain was almost twelve feet long and Joseph pronounced it “beautiful.” They wound it around the tree several times and the little boy beamed at the sight.

“After it gets closer to dark, we’ll light the candles,” Joy decided. “It’s only the twenty-third of December, but we’ll enjoy it awhile. Tomorrow, we’ll make cookies and bake a pumpkin pie.”

“I can’t thank you enough for letting us join in your Christmas celebrations,” Gideon said in a low tone as they stood before the tree, Joy reaching to make sure the candleholders were firmly in place.

“We wouldn’t have had it without you here,” she said softly. “I’m so thankful you came to our door, Gideon. Even though I didn’t like the circumstances behind it, what with you losing your horse and wagon.”

He slid one arm around her waist and bent to whisper in her ear, “I’m thinking it was meant to be, Joy. That we were meant to find each other this way.”

She blushed and cut a quick look at him. “Maybe so. I only know that you and Joseph are welcome here, and Grandpa and I are thankful for you.

“I have some knitting to catch up on, Gideon. I think I’ll ask you to light the fireplace and warm up the parlor a bit. Then I’m going to sit on the sofa and work on my project. I have to have it done by Christmas.”

He grinned at her. “I watched you a bit last evening before we went to bed, just knittin’ away on what looked suspiciously like a hat for my young’un.”

“I got out all my odds and ends of yarn, so it’ll be a hat of many colors. I won’t be able to knit his mittens to go with it until after Christmas, but I might be able to work on a scarf. The hat’s almost done and straight knitting on a scarf takes no time at all.”

“You’re a kind woman, Joy. My boy’s already taken a shine to you. You’re the first female he’s latched onto since he was born.” He cleared his throat and glanced to where his son sat next to Grandpa, watching as the old man whittled away, paper spread on the floor to catch the whittling scraps.

The low murmur of voices reached them as Joseph and the old man next to him considered the small manger Grandpa had formed from the wood. “How’d you do that, sir?” the boy asked softly.

“Just as easy as pie once you get the hang of it, sonny. I thought I’d do a couple of figures to hang on either side of it, maybe Mary kneeling by the manger and Joseph standing by.” Grandpa grinned at the boy. “Did you know you had such a famous name, sonny? Joseph has been revered since the days when he taught the boy, Jesus, about being a carpenter.”

“I never knew my name was special. I just thought it was what Pa wanted to call me.”

“Well, your name is almost as special as you are, my boy. You’re a fine young man, and you’ll be a terrific man when you’ve grown, if you take after your pa.”

“Thank you, sir,” the child said, as if he was flustered by the attention bestowed upon him.

“Can we light the candles, Pa?” he asked Gideon as his father and Joy crossed the room to where he sat.

“That’s up to Joy, I’d think,” Gideon said, bending to her wishes.

“I don’t know why not. The fireplace is making it warm enough to sit in here till bedtime. Let’s enjoy the tree for an hour or so.”

“I’ll light a candle in the stove and bring it back in here,” Gideon offered. He made short work of his task and in minutes he was back, his hands efficient as he lit the two dozen candles they’d anchored on the tree.

“Oh, Pa. That’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” Joseph said, his eyes widening, his mouth stretching into a grin and his excitement knowing no bounds.

“Why don’t we sing some carols,” Joy asked them. “I’ll play some chords on the organ and we can all join in. I have a book somewhere in the organ bench with Christmas carols in it.”

“I wondered if you could play that thing,” Gideon said with a chuckle. “I noticed it over in the corner there and I didn’t know if it was in working order.”

Joy nodded. “Oh, it works, all right. I’m not very good at it, but my mother taught me some music and how to read notes before she died. I don’t play often, but I think this celebration calls for it, don’t you?”

“I’d love to hear you play, and I think I know the carols by heart. We used to sing them when I was a youngster. My mother and father took us to church regularly and Christmas Eve was always a big night, with caroling and reading the scripture from the book of Luke about the birth of the Savior. Then we’d go home and have hot cider and cookies and usually we’d have a houseful of folks follow us home and join in more singing.”

“What a wonderful memory to have,” Joy said. “We used to go to church on Christmas Eve, but after my folks died it was too much for Grandpa to harness up and then hope we could get through the snow. I sure hadn’t planned on it this year. I’ve never seen so much snow in my life.”

“Well, we’ll have our own celebration right here,” Gideon said stoutly. “I can squeeze some of those apples in the cellar and make some cider for us to drink and you can make cookies tomorrow, enough for us to have a real party.”

“Can I help, too?” Joseph asked, excitement riding high as he hurled himself into his father’s arms.

“Sure you can, son. We’ll figure out how to press those apples in the morning, as soon as I finish with the chores.”

“And in the meantime, if Joy starts cookies maybe I can help her,” Joseph said, casting a yearning glance at the woman he’d obviously come to think of very fondly.

“You sure can,” Joy said quickly. “I’ll mix the dough and roll it out, and you can use my cookie cutters to cut out stars and angels and bells and all sorts of good things.”

Joseph leaned from his father’s arms to hug Joy’s neck. “I’m so glad we’re here with you and Grandpa,” he sang out.

“Well, I’m glad you’re here, too,” Joy told him, returning his hug and then turning to the sofa to sit beside her grandfather. “Come sit on my lap, Joseph,” she invited, and the boy lost no time in accepting her summons. Joy leaned back a bit and Joseph cuddled close as they both turned their attention to the tree, glowing brightly as the candles flickered and flamed.

“Time for you to show us how talented you are,” Gideon said, approaching Joy a bit later. He reached for his son and then helped Joy up from her seat with his other hand. She went to the organ and lifted the cover from the keyboard, settling herself on the bench and pumping the pedals for a moment.

“Now watch, Joseph,” his father said. “Watch how Joy pumps the pedals that feed air to the organ and make it sound out the notes she presses with her fingers. I think we’re in for a treat.”

“I hope so,” Joy said with a laugh. “I haven’t played for a while, but some things you never forget.” She stood quickly and pulled the proper songbook from the bench beneath her, opening it and placing it on the music rack. Within moments the sound of “Silent Night” filled the room as Joy played with more proficiency than Gideon had expected.

“All right, you lead off, Gideon, and we’ll all join in,” she said, completing the short introduction.

Without hesitation Gideon’s baritone voice rose in the opening words, and Grandpa rose from the sofa to join them around the organ. Joy sang a low alto part, harmonizing as her mother had taught her, and even Joseph was caught up in the words, singing along as best he could.

“I remember that song,” the boy said after they’d sung the first verse. “We sang it at Aunt Rosie’s house back home.”

“So we did, son,” Gideon replied. “I wasn’t sure you’d remember the words, but you did really well.”

“How about ‘Joy to the World’ now,” Joy asked, turning the pages to find the carol she’d mentioned.

“I know that one a little bit, too,” Joseph said with glee. Following his father’s lead, he sang out, not always getting the words correct but following as best he could. Grandpa cut in with his rusty bass and their harmony rose in the small parlor as they sang. The words were a paean of joy and Gideon found himself focusing on the woman who sat before him, her music rising in accompaniment as they sang. She was flushed and excited, her voice melodic and sounding much to him as the angels must have on that first Christmas Eve.

They sang on, turning pages in the songbook, until finally Joseph’s head began to loll against Gideon’s shoulder. “I think this boy needs to be in bed,” he said quietly as Joy finished the last song.

“He’ll have a big day tomorrow and he’s about tuckered out right now,” Joy said agreeably. “We’ll be up early. I’ll hold breakfast until the chores are done, Gideon.”

He nodded and offered her a smile that carried a wealth of feeling. “I’ll sort out some apples in the cellar after I do the chores. Joseph and I will do our apple squeezing in the kitchen, I suspect. It’s too cold for him in the cellar.”

“We’ll have lots of space. The kitchen is the largest room in the house. We spend most of our time there,” Joy answered.

Grandpa yawned widely and grinned. “I’m on my way up to bed right now,” he said. “This old body needs a lot of sleep these days.”

“I’ll come back down and bank the fire as soon as I put this boy of mine into bed,” Gideon offered.

He left the parlor on Grandpa’s heels and they climbed the stairs to the loft. Joy snuffed the candles on the tree, then went to the kitchen and checked in the pantry to be sure she had enough of everything she needed for the cookie baking. It was there that Gideon found her just a few minutes later. She turned and almost walked into him, stepping back as he took her hands in his.

“What are you working at now?” he asked, grinning as he saw the look on her face, one of surprise and pleasure, if his guess was right.

“Just making sure I have everything we need for the big day tomorrow. I’ll mix the cookies in my bread-dough pan. It’ll hold enough to make ten or twelve dozen.”

Gideon drew her closer, his hands tightening on hers in a firm grip. She stood before him looking like the angel on the Christmas tree, he decided, lifting a hand to brush a lock of hair from her cheek. “Joy, would you think poorly of me if I stole a kiss from you? I wouldn’t do anything to cause you distress, but since the first brush of my lips against your smooth skin, I’ve yearned for another chance to touch you. Perhaps a kiss more suited to a man who has come to care for a woman more quickly than he’d planned.”

“And what is the difference between the two?” she asked, her eyes sparkling in the dim light within the pantry.

“I believe I’ll just show you,” Gideon said quietly. He bent a bit, his mouth touching hers gently. And then with a murmur in his throat, he released her lips and scooped her closer to him, his arms wrapping her in a firm embrace. His mouth sought hers once more and this time he began a foray of kisses across her cheeks and forehead, ending up once more at her lips. His tongue touched her upper lip in a caress she had apparently never felt before, for she moved back quickly and opened her eyes to meet his.

“I haven’t had a lot of experience at kissing, as you’ve probably guessed,” she said quietly, “for aside from a few hasty kisses on my cheek, I’ve never allowed a man to come any closer to me, Gideon. I fear my experience is far overshadowed by yours.”

He smiled down at her, holding her closely against his big body. She was small and delicate, and though gently rounded, she was all woman and filled his arms. “You’re a woman to be cherished, Joy. I hope you know that I mean only what is right and honest between us. I feel deeply for you, but perhaps that sounds foolish after such a short time.”

She blushed and touched her forehead against his shirt, there where his heart beat, a bit rapidly, she thought. “I don’t know what to say to you, Gideon. I’ve been sheltered here with Grandpa, and men are beyond my experience for the most part. But I have to admit that I feel something...” She looked up at him. “I don’t even know what I feel, to be honest with you. I just know I’m glad you and your son came to us. I feel like you were put here for a reason, and if that’s nothing more than to be a help to us through this storm, so be it. I’m just happy to tend to Joseph and keep him safe and warm and well fed. And the same goes for you. If you’ll lend a hand with the work here, like you already have, then I’ll be thankful for it.”

“I’m here for you, Joy. For as long as you need me I’ll be here. You may be right. Perhaps I was sent here for a reason, whether for Joseph’s well-being or my own. I’m happy here with you and your grandfather, and Joseph is tickled pink by everything that’s happened since our arrival.”

“Well, I think we both need to turn in,” Joy said firmly. “Tomorrow will be a big day for everyone, and I plan on getting up early. And I still have some knitting to do tonight. I’ll sit up in bed and finish Joseph’s cap. Shouldn’t take more than a half hour or so, and I want to begin his scarf early on tomorrow, after the cookie baking is finished.”

Gideon stepped back from the pantry, then made haste to bank the cookstove after ushering her into the kitchen. She watched him finish his task, then walked into the hallway and toward her bedroom. Gideon made his way to the stairs. “Good night, Joy,” he sang out cheerfully, for he felt he had much to be pleased with, given the events in the pantry and Joy’s response to him.

“Good night,” she called back, bending to light a lamp on the hallway table to carry with her into her bedroom. She disappeared from his view and he quickly went up the stairs to the loft, where Joseph slept soundly. He undressed, slid beneath the sheet and quilts next to his son and curled his arm around the boy, the better to keep him warm throughout the night. The heat from the stove in the kitchen made its way upstairs and he found himself ready to sleep, even as visions of the woman downstairs drifted through his head. His lips curved in a tender smile as he closed his eyes.

Chapter Five

The scent of apples filled the kitchen as Gideon used Joy’s grinder to fill a large pan with juice and pulp from the fruit he’d gathered from the cellar. He’d washed the apples, sorting through them and discarding the ones with bad spots. Although this was a new endeavor for him, he felt confident he would be able to make a decent batch of cider in his own makeshift way.

The grinder worked well for the job, and he set about straining the apples into another container with Joy’s large strainer. By the time he was finished, he had over a gallon of the fragrant juice, along with a goodly amount of pulp, and had set aside the rest of the pulp and skins for the pigs who lived in a pen with a sheltered lean-to attached to the barn. There were three pigs, all of them ready for butchering, a job Gideon meant to inquire about in town or perhaps with the nearby neighbor once the snow cleared up. Surely there would be someone in the area who specialized in such things.

Joy worked at the table, mixing the dough for the cookies, finally dumping a part of the dough onto the flour-covered table. She patted it into a circle, then used her rolling pin to flatten it and ready it for Joseph’s task of cutting out cookies. He knelt on a chair, one of her aprons tied around him to protect his clothing from all the flour that would be flying about as he worked.

He cut out first one star, then another, until he had almost two dozen, not all of them perfect, but all of them suitable for the cookie sheets Joy had readied. Using her spatula, she transferred one after another of the stars until she had filled the sheet.

“This one goes into the oven, Joseph. We’ll give them ten minutes and then check them out. They should be pretty near baked by then.” After sliding the pan into the hot oven, Joy brought her other cookie sheet to the table. “Now let’s fill this one,” she said with a smile for the eager boy who watched her.

In no time, she found room for the rest of his stars on the cookie sheet and placed it on the warming shelf to await its turn in the oven below. She piled up the remnants of the dough and added more from her bread pan, then went through the same process as she had the first time. This time, Joseph was given a cookie cutter that resembled an angel. His tongue was caught in one corner of his mouth as he worked, and Joy and Gideon exchanged smiles as they watched him, Joy lending a hand when needed, for Joseph wasn’t yet adept at fitting the angels closely together on the cookie sheet.

The morning passed quickly as one pan then another left the oven. The cookies were just a touch brown, marking their readiness for the next step. After the table was piled high across one end with ten dozen cookies, according to Joy’s count, they got ready to frost them. Joy filled a bowl with white icing and found some small bottles of colored sugar in the pantry, which she transferred to empty salt and pepper shakers. “I never did this before,” Joseph announced as Joy began frosting the cookies.

“Well, it’ll take you and your father both to keep up with me, I fear,” Joy said with a laugh as she moved her frosted cookies closer to the boy. Gideon joined him, and they all sprinkled the colored sugar on the stars and angels before them, Joseph more than generous with his shakers, colored sugar flying about with gusto. Gideon announced that one of them was damaged by too many sugar crystals and must be eaten immediately, calling forth laughter from Joy and his son.

He made a big production out of eating the angel he’d considered to be damaged, sharing it with Joseph bite for bite. “That’s the best cookie I ever ate, ma’am,” the boy declared fervently. “It surely was good. I’ll bet I could eat another one, if you wouldn’t mind.”

“I’d be happy to get you a glass of milk to go with it, if you’d like, Joseph. And perhaps even one for your father,” Joy said happily. She hadn’t had this much fun in a month of Sundays, she decided, watching the wide grin spread across the boy’s face.

“Would you, ma’am? I’d sure like that and I know my daddy would, too,” Joseph said, smiling through the icing that adorned his lips and cheeks.

Within a few minutes, Grandpa had joined them, and all four sat at the table, drinking milk and sampling the cookies before them. Joy moved as many cookies to the cooled cookie sheets as she could and then found two more in the cupboard to hold the excess. The kitchen dresser held all four sheets and still the table was almost half full.

“We’ll have enough cookies to last us for a month,” Joy said happily. “We’ll hang some on the tree later on, when the icing is completely dry. Probably by tonight. And in the meantime, I have some other tasks to finish up before the day is over. If you’ll all excuse me, I’m going to sit on the rocker in the corner and get out my knitting.”

“Can I go in the parlor and look at the Christmas tree?” Joseph asked. “I just want to sit on the sofa and enjoy it.”

“You sure can, son,” Gideon said, ushering the boy away from the knitting scene lest he figure out that the work keeping Joy so busy was intended for him. She’d finished the hat last night and had begun working on the scarf before her eyes closed midway through a row, almost causing a calamity when the stitches came close to sliding from her needles. Now she knit the final ball of yarn into the length she’d determined would fit around the boy’s neck and crisscross on his chest to keep him warm beneath his coat. The mittens would have to wait till after Christmas, for she had another task she wanted to complete before dark.

She’d found a large ball of brown yarn in her basket of supplies and determined to do a scarf for Gideon, even if it took all evening. She was quick at the task, for she’d been knitting since she was but a youngster. She’d made Grandpa a new hat and scarf over the past weeks, working at it in her bedroom to keep it a secret from him, and had fashioned a vest for him out of the deerhide she’d cleaned and stretched. Now if Gideon’s scarf was ready in time, she’d wrap them in the tissue she’d bought in town a while ago. It was red and would look festive under the tree come morning. She needed only to make out small name tags for the packages and then scoot into the parlor after everyone else was in bed to put them beneath the tree.

* * *

Christmas morning began before the sun came up. Joy was busily making cinnamon rolls, having put them to rise atop the warming oven the night before. She fried up a panful of bacon and a dozen eggs, sliding them onto her big platter to sit in the center of the table when everyone had assembled for breakfast. She toasted six slices of bread in the oven, then buttered them and presented them on another small plate.

“This is a feast fit for a king,” Gideon pronounced. His cheeks were ruddy from the cold and he sat closest to the stove to soak up the warmth. The chores were done, he’d said as he came in the backdoor, and after he’d washed up at the sink, he helped Joseph wash, then sat him on a store catalog atop his chair. Grandpa came in, a smug look on his face as he joined the group around the table.

They held hands while Gideon said a blessing over their food, and then they all tucked in with a will, the bacon and eggs disappearing quickly. The cinnamon rolls were hot from the oven and Joy cut them up in big squares and passed the butter. They drank coffee and ate the rolls almost in silence, so tasty were the sweet offerings. Joseph drank two glasses of milk, declaring the rolls to be the best thing he’d eaten in forever, causing his father and Joy to laugh heartily.

They lit the candles on the tree, and then all sat down on the sofa but for Gideon, who announced he would distribute the gifts. Joseph was delighted with the hat and scarf Joy had made and thanked her profusely. Grandpa was surprised at his own knitted gift and muttered his thanks with a low growl. His misty eyes needed wiping with his big kerchief as he unwrapped the vest Joy had stitched so carefully from the deerhide.

“I sure didn’t expect such a wonderful surprise, girl,” he said in a gruff tone, his smile belying the sound. With Gideon’s help, he donned his gift and beamed as he smoothed his hands over the front, examining the buttonholes Joy had worked into the suede fabric. Gideon was more than happy with the scarf he received, declaring it a lifesaver, for he needed something to keep his ears warm.

Grandpa pointed at a brown-wrapped package and Gideon lifted it from beneath the tree and cast a questioning look at him. “Give it to Joy,” he said, and Gideon did so with a flourish. Joy took it on her lap with a cry of glee.

“How did you...? What did you...?” she asked, her cheeks pink with confusion and pleasure as her fingers untied the string that encircled the package. She folded back the paper, and within the wrapping lay a navy blue cloak, three frog fastenings at its throat. Joy stood up and held it before her, admiring the red binding that accented it, encircling the neck and then running down the front of each lapel and down to the hem.

“Oh, my! Oh, my!” she crooned, unfastening the loops and swirling the cloak about her, holding it closely against her throat and turning in a slow circle before her audience. Grandpa smiled, Joseph clapped his hands with glee and Gideon could only watch in admiration as the woman before him cast warm glances at all the males in her family.

“You surely do look like a Christmas angel, Joy,” Grandpa said with a hint of tears in his voice. “I knew you’d look beautiful in that thing. Had it ordered from the catalog for you and picked it up a while ago when we went to town.”

“I didn’t know,” Joy said. “You sure are good at keeping a secret, Grandpa. And I thank you so much. It’s just beautiful and will keep me warm. I’ll even put it over my quilt on the bed when I go to sleep.” She bent over her grandfather and kissed him across his forehead and down one cheek, murmuring soft words of love to him as she did so.

“You look pretty enough to put on the top of the tree, Joy,” Gideon said. “You sure enough look like an angel in that beautiful cloak. Your grandfather knew just what would look lovely on you.”

“I have something else for Joseph,” Joy said hesitantly. “I didn’t wrap them, but I thought he might like something I’ve enjoyed for many years. In fact,” she said, bringing a pile of books from beneath the tree, “if Joseph would like me to, I’d enjoy reading one of the stories to him tonight before he goes to bed.”

“Would you really, Joy?” the boy asked, his eyes pleading as he stood before her, his hands reaching for the books she held. “Oh, look, Daddy. Just look at the books Joy gave me.” Joseph sat down on the floor and looked over the assortment Joy had gathered together from her own library for him.

“Here’s a whole book about horses and another about dogs. There’s lots of stories in this one, and look at the pictures of all kinds of horses in this one. And here’s Black Beauty, too.” He hugged the book to his chest. “I’ve always wanted to have someone read this story to me. And now Joy says she will. Will we be here long enough for her to read the whole thing, Daddy? Will we?” the boy asked pleadingly.

“Of course you will,” Joy said quickly. “I’m sure you and your father aren’t going anywhere in a hurry, Joseph. You’ll be here for a good while, I’m certain.”

“As long as Joy and her grandfather will let us stay,” Gideon added with a quick smile at Joy. “There’s lots of work I can do here to make life easier for Joy and Grandpa this winter. We’ll stay for a while.”

“You betcha,” Grandpa added. “We’ve been needing someone to lend a hand around here. It’s too much for Joy, and I can’t do much to help her. At least not in the snow.”

“That’s settled, then,” Joy said with a wide grin. “You can stay as long as you like, Gideon.”

“Well, this has been the merriest Christmas we’ve had for several years,” Gideon said, bending to pick Joseph up in his arms. “I just know my son hasn’t been so happy in a long time.” And then Grandpa called out for Joseph to draw near to him.

The boy scooted over to stand by Grandpa while the old man dug in his pocket, finally drawing forth a wooden figure. It was a small horse, and the boy watched wide-eyed as the old man held it in the palm of his hand. “Maybe this could be Black Beauty, sonny,” Grandpa said with a wide smile. “Not the right color horse, but you can pretend he’s black till your pa can paint him for you one day.”

“Oh, I can pretend without black paint, Grandpa,” the lad cried, holding out his palm for the small figure.

Grandpa placed the figure in Joseph’s hand and then had to stop and wipe his eyes and nose, so caught up in the lad’s pleasure he almost shed a few tears. “I’m happy you like it, Joseph,” he said, reaching to hug the boy in a quick embrace.

Joseph ran to his father. “Lookee what Grandpa made for me, Daddy. Ain’t it the prettiest thing you ever saw?”

“Sure enough it is,” Gideon said, casting a thankful look at the old man who watched the boy so closely.

Joy rose from the sofa, bent on making it to the kitchen before tears escaped her control. “I’m going to clean up and get ready to fix our Christmas dinner,” she said, hurrying from the room.

“I reckon I’ll give her a hand.” Gideon put his son on the floor and headed after the young woman he’d barely been able to keep his gaze from all morning. Joseph ran to the sofa.

“Can you and me just sit here and watch the Christmas tree?” he asked Grandpa, who held out an arm to enclose the lad’s shoulders as he sat beside him.

Gideon went to the kitchen where Joy was wiping the last of her tears and had set about with the breakfast dishes. His arms encircled her and she rested against him for a few moments. “It’s been a wonderful morning, but now the dishes await me, Gideon,” she said with a sigh.

“Tell you what, ma’am. I’ll dry if you’ll wash,” he said, picking up the dish towel and waving it with a flourish, as if intent on drying her tears with his foolishness.

And so the day passed, all enjoying the dinner Joy fixed for them, Gideon doing the chores closer to nightfall and Grandpa whittling another figure for Joseph to match the horse he’d given him. “This way you’ll have a team of ’em,” Grandpa said, busily carving the long legs on the figure in his hands.

It was truly the best Christmas Joy could recall as she sat on the sofa after replacing the candles on the tree and lighting them anew. Gideon came in from the barn and stomped his feet as he hung his coat and then joined them in the parlor.

“I’m going to see about putting this boy to bed. He’s had a big day and he’s about ready to shut his eyes and doze off,” Gideon said quietly, picking Joseph up and holding him close.

“Well, get him ready for bed and send him down to me if he’s still wide-awake. I’ll read to him for a while from Black Beauty and see how he likes it. It’s a good story, for sure,” Joy said.

So it was that she curled up on the sofa with a lamp on the table next to her on one side and a small boy gathered to her on the other. The book lay open on her lap and she found herself with an audience as Gideon joined them, sitting on the floor by her feet as she read. Joseph snuggled close as if he hadn’t been cuddled in a long while and his head drooped against her, finally dropping to her lap as he snoozed while she read.

Joy closed the book after inserting a bookmark she’d knitted, a miniature scarf, only an inch or so wide.

Gideon smiled as he saw it. “You’re just full of talents, Joy,” he said. “You not only cook and clean, but you know how to tend to a family in every way possible. I’m in awe at your abilities.”

Joy flushed, nodding her thanks for the compliment, placing the book she’d been reading on the table beside her. “This boy is about out for the night,” she whispered to Gideon as he approached.

“I’ll take him up now. And I think I’ll crawl in beside him. We’re both nearly tuckered out. Will you being going up, too, Grandpa?” he asked the older man.

Grandpa nodded and headed for the stairs, dropping a quick kiss on Joy’s cheek as he passed her chair. “Good night, Grandpa. And you, too, Gideon. I’ll lock the doors and be on my way, too,” Joy said, stifling a yawn as she spoke.

“It was the most beautiful Christmas I’ve ever had,” Gideon said as he paused by her chair. “And you made it possible, Joy. You and your grandfather. I can’t thank you enough, both from me and my son. I’ll bank the fire in the kitchen and be right back to tote my boy upstairs.”

Joy looked up into his eyes and felt warmed from within. Gideon’s smile was one she’d never seen before, filled with more than affection, for he bestowed upon her a smile that spoke to her heart.

“I’ll be turning in, too, once I make sure all the candles are out,” she said.

“I’ll see you in the morning, Joy. God bless you, for you’ve been a real blessing to me. And to Joseph.” He bent, leaving the touch of his lips against her cheek, then went into the kitchen where she heard him lifting a burner on the stove, preparatory to banking the fire for the night. By the time she’d gone to her own room he was back in the parlor, picking up his son and carrying him to the stairs, where she heard his footsteps touch each step. She watched from her bedroom doorway as he climbed, looking down at the lad he carried, lifting him close to his heart as he reached the top of the stairs and headed to the first room on the right.

The house was quiet as Joy found her bed. Before she snuggled beneath her quilts, she lifted herself up a bit to blow out the candle she’d brought to light her way. Her fingers touched the spot on her cheek where Gideon had left his warmth. The man seemed to have crept into her life and her heart in a way she’d never have dreamed possible. He was the very image of what she had long harbored in her heart as the perfect man for her future. Not only tall and strong and handsome but a wonderful father to his son. Perhaps it would be her Christmas gift from the powers that be, that Gideon would find her pleasing. For though he’d told her she was to be admired, she could only wish for more.

Her head swam with images from the whole day as she sank into slumber. And all of them included the tall man who had swept into her life and somehow...into her heart.

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