His Frontier Christmas Family. Regina Scott

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СКАЧАТЬ Callie blinked back tears. “That’s enough. Frisco’s right—everyone dies someday. It might be sooner or it might be later. None of us knows.”

      As Frisco rubbed at his eyes with his free hand, she gathered him closer. Sutter crowded on her other side. Adam was really dead. He and Pa had fought with the fellow who’d tried to buy her. Now it looked as if her brother had simply given her away. Didn’t he think she could raise the boys and Mica alone? Hadn’t he trusted her? What was she supposed to do now?

      “I remember how it felt to lose my pa,” the preacher said, in a quiet, thoughtful voice that was respectful of what they were feeling. “I was eight when he was killed in a logging accident.”

      So maybe he knew a little about loss. Frisco didn’t respond, but Sutter raised his head. “What did you do?”

      “I relied on my family and friends,” he said.

      Now Frisco looked up at Callie. “You’re family, Callie. What do you think we should do?”

      At least her little brothers trusted her. Even Mica was regarding her with hope shining in her blue eyes.

      Still, what choice did she have? She’d been counting on Adam returning before the freeze set in. She needed another pair of hands to get everything ready for winter. Her brothers were too young yet for some of the tasks, and they weren’t very good about taking care of Mica so she could work elsewhere on the claim. They kept finding more interesting things to do, leaving the baby unattended. But she couldn’t hunt or chop wood carrying a baby.

      Besides, with Adam gone, how could they keep the claim? She couldn’t file for her own for another six months.

      She met the preacher’s gaze. Once more that deep blue pulled her in, whispered of something more, something better. If only she could make herself believe.

      “I think,” she told her brothers, “that we should get to know Adam’s friend a little better.”

      * * *

      Levi smiled. Though he liked to think he’d outgrown the grin Ma had always called mischievous, he knew a smile could go a long way toward calming concerns, soothing troubled hearts. The Murphys had no reason to trust him other than a recommendation from their dead brother. A brother who might still be alive if he hadn’t yielded to the siren’s call of gold.

      “You live around here, preacher?” Callie asked him.

      They were all watching him. Even the baby blinked her eyes before fixing them on his face as if fascinated.

      “I’m the pastor of the church at Wallin Landing, up north on Lake Union,” he told them. He still couldn’t quite believe it. He’d tutored under a missionary on the gold fields, traveled to San Francisco to be trained and ordained. He’d intended to return north to the men who needed hope in the gold rush camps, to help Thaddeus Bilgin, his mentor. Then he’d discovered that his family had built a church and was ready to request a pastor. They couldn’t know how they’d honored him by offering him the role. His first duty had been to perform the marriage ceremony for his closest brother, John, and his bride, Dottie.

      But Callie didn’t look impressed that he was the pastor of a church at such a young age. Her eyes were narrowed again. “Levi Wallin, Wallin Landing. Must be nice to have a family who owns a whole town.”

      He’d never considered his family wealthy, until he’d left them. Now he knew they had riches beyond anything he would have found panning—love, friendship, encouragement, faith. Still, he didn’t want to give Callie the wrong impression and have her be disappointed when she saw Wallin Landing.

      “Not much of a town,” he explained. “Yet. It was our pa’s dream to build a community. We have a church, a store and post office, a dispensary and a school.” He nodded to her brothers. “My brother James’s wife is the teacher. You could learn all kinds of things there, boys.”

      First Frisco and then Sutter nodded. At least, he thought he had the names pinned to the right person.

      Frisco stuck out his chin. “I reckon we know enough without going to some stupid school.”

      “And I reckon there’s always more to know,” Callie countered. She held out the baby to him. “Here. Take Mica for a ride in her wagon. Leave the door open so I can see you. No running off this time. Me and the preacher need to talk.”

      Frisco accepted the baby, who babbled her delight at his company. With looks that held a world of doubt, the twins headed for the door.

      Callie took a step closer to Levi. Her hair was parted down the middle and plaited to hang on either side of her face, making her look sad and worn. But even if it had been pinned up like most ladies wore it these days, he thought she’d still look sad. She certainly had reason.

      “Did they give him a good burial?” she asked.

      If someone from Seattle had asked him that question, he would have extolled the wisdom of the minister who delivered the eulogy, numbered the attendees who had honored the deceased with their presence and described the casket and the flowers. After watching men die in the northern wilderness, he was fairly sure what Callie was really asking.

      “A team of six men buried him good and deep. Nothing will disturb Adam’s rest.”

      She nodded, shifting back and forth on her feet as she gazed out the open door. With a rattle, the boys passed, dragging a rickety wagon with Mica bundled in the bed. He heard Callie’s sigh, felt it inside.

      “I’m sorry,” Levi said. “He was too young to die.”

      “So was Anna,” she murmured, rubbing at her arm. “That’s Mica’s mother. Our ma and pa died too young, for that matter. Pa stayed in the stream so long he contracted pneumonia. I wouldn’t be surprised if Adam went the same way.”

      She and her little brothers had seen too much death. She was younger than his sister Beth. She ought to be giggling over fashion plates, planning for a bright future. What sort of future had her father and brother bequeathed her? She was all the family the boys and the baby had left. The need to help her was so strong that he wondered she couldn’t see it hanging between them.

      “A man I knew at Vital Creek was fond of saying that life is for the living,” he murmured. “What do you want to do with your life, Miss Murphy?”

      She made a face. “Not so much a matter of wanting as what must be done. Frisco and Sutter need to go to school, learn a trade. I won’t have them dying with a pan in their hands, too. And someone has to raise Mica.”

      Levi closed the distance between them, put both hands on her shoulders. Though they seemed far too narrow, there was a strength in them. “What about Callie? Do you want nothing for yourself?”

      Her gaze brushed his, and for a moment he thought she’d confess some dream of her own. Then she shrugged as if dismissing it. “You do right by my kin, preacher, and I’ll be satisfied. I can always find my own way later.”

      So brave. He might have given another woman a brotherly hug to encourage her, but something told him Callie wouldn’t take kindly to the gesture. She was all prickles and thorns, a hedge thrown up in defense of the heart within, he suspected. He wasn’t sure how to convince her he only meant the best for all of them.

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