Regina Scott - His Frontier Christmas Family

“My horse is tied out front,” he said. “I have Adam’s letter in my saddlebag. Come with me, and I’ll give it to you.”

Her jaw worked as if she fought hard words. “I’m not going anywhere with you. And I don’t trust you out of my sight.”

She was either the most suspicious woman he’d ever met, or the wisest. She was also plenty brave, ready to lay into him with that stick. Having been raised in the gold camps and now living so far out, she probably had to take precautions. He hadn’t intended to look dangerous, but then, he’d used his boyish charm too many times in the past to think that danger couldn’t look pleasing.

“Then maybe I can help you until your brothers get back.” He bent to reach for the clothes, and she stepped in front of him.

“You want to help?” she challenged. “The pump’s been stuck for weeks. We have to lug all the water through the woods from the creek. Fix the pump, and we’ll talk.”

Levi straightened. “Fair enough.” He located the pump near the back of the cabin and went over to it. Easy enough to spot the problem. The device was orange with rust. He glanced up to ask her whether she had any oil, and words left him with his breath.

She’d picked up the baby and stood there, swaying from side to side, singing softly. The buckskin coat and trousers, so common on the gold fields, still hinted of a figure. The sunlight shafting through the forest sparked around her, sending gold skipping along her hair.

Levi turned his back on her. Oh, no. You have no business admiring Adam Murphy’s little sister. You have a lot of work to do before you’re fit to be a husband to any woman.

A movement in the bushes caught his eye, and a moment later two boys about eight years of age scampered into the clearing, dragging a burlap sack between them. The pair was identical, down to the dirt on their round cheeks and the mud on their worn boots. Sutter’s Mill Murphy and San Francisco Murphy. Back at Vital Creek, the miners used to make a game of guessing which boy was which.

“Look what we got, Callie,” one crowed.

“Old man Kingerly didn’t even try to stop us,” the other bragged.

Callie shot Levi a look before hurrying to meet them. “He agreed to give you that, didn’t he?” She tipped her head toward the house.

The closest boy glanced Levi’s way and stiffened, then elbowed his brother. The other looked toward Levi and dropped his corner of the sack.

“Sure,” he said. “Of course.”

“Who’s that?” his brother demanded.

“That’s Preacher Wallin,” Callie answered them. “He came to tell us something important. I think we should go inside to hear it.”

Her brothers exchanged glances, then the one retrieved his corner of the sack, and they dragged it toward the house. The shapes bumping against the material told him they had at least one pumpkin in the batch.

Callie followed them, baby up in one arm. The little one seemed to like him. She blinked big blue eyes surrounded by long black lashes and offered him a wide smile that revealed a set of four teeth. He remembered his oldest nieces being that age before he and Scout had set out to seek their fortune.

Regret stabbed him. He’d missed more than six years with his family chasing after something he had never needed. He’d thought striking it rich would give him standing, make him a man. He’d become a man all right, and not one his father would ever have wanted him to be. He would spend the rest of his life atoning for what he’d done on the gold fields. The Murphy family was only one step along the way.

Callie paused beside him as if she wanted to ask him something. She barely came to his shoulder, so he bent his head to give her his full attention. The blue-gray of her eyes was cool, assessing, as if she could see his darkest secret. He willed himself not to flinch.

She reached down, grasped the handle of the pump with her free hand and tried to yank it up. It didn’t move.

“Pump’s still broke,” she pronounced, straightening. She passed him for the door.

Levi was the last one inside. “The pump is rusted solid. Unless you have some oil and a wrench, it’s likely going to stay that way.”

She shrugged as if she didn’t care or doubted he would be of much use regardless. He suspected her nonchalance had more to do with the fact that she had no way to procure oil or a wrench.

In fact, she had no way to procure much of anything if the state of the cabin was any indication. It held a single room, though a ladder against one wall told of a loft overhead. Unlike his brothers’ sturdy cabins, this one was more crudely made. The logs hadn’t been seasoned properly, and the chinking was falling out in places, letting the sunlight spear through. The windows at the front and back held no glass; only shutters kept out the wind. The stone fireplace was barely big enough to keep the place warm. The shelves next to it listed, even though they held no more than a sagging sack of flour and some tough-looking carrots.

How could Adam have left his family in such dire straits?

A bedstead piled with quilts lay against one wall, with a plank table and benches near the fire. The boys dropped their sack by the table and climbed up on a bench. Callie, still holding the baby, went to stand at the head of the table. She frowned at Levi, before turning to her brothers. Her face softened.

“The preacher brought us news about Adam,” she said. “I warn you—it ain’t good.”

Her brothers’ eyes widened, and they looked to Levi.

He stepped forward until he stood at the end of the table. “I’m very sorry, boys. Your brother has passed on.”

They frowned in unison, mirror images of each other.

“Passed on to where?” one demanded.

“Were there better pickings there?” the other asked.

Levi’s heart tightened. “Much better pickings. Adam is in heaven.”

The first boy turned to his sister. “Where’s the Heaven strike? In Washington Territory?”

“Nah,” his brother scoffed. “It’s in Idaho, you dolt.”

The first boy scowled. Callie was regarding Levi, challenge in her eyes.

He squared his shoulders. “What I’m trying to say is that your brother Adam has died, boys. But he didn’t want you to worry. He asked me to take care of you, and I will. I want you all to come live with me.”

Chapter Two

Callie was so shocked that she clutched Mica close to keep from dropping her. Live with him? Was he touched in the head?

Her brothers looked just as surprised, mouths hanging open, their normally busy bodies stilled. As usual, Frisco recovered first.

“Why’d we want to come live with you?” he demanded, hands braced on the table. “Callie takes care of us real good.”

“Always has,” Sutter agreed.

“Always will,” Callie promised them.

As if she thought so, too, Mica rested her head against Callie’s shoulder. Frisco and Sutter climbed off the bench and pressed against Callie’s side.

The preacher didn’t look dismayed to find them all ranged against him. He merely inclined his head.

“Your sister has done a good job,” he said, gaze moving from face to face. “But even Callie has to get tired once in a while.”

How did he know? She’d been so careful not to let her brothers see it. Neither of them knew the nights she broke down and cried, trying to think of a way to change their circumstances. She was up before they were, in bed long after they climbed to the loft. There weren’t enough hours in the day for tending to the claim let alone all the washing and cooking and cleaning.

Adam and Pa had both promised better things.

“Just you wait, Callie,” Pa would say, eyes bright and cheeks flushed like he was feverish. “One day you’ll dress in fine silks and live in a big house with servants to do all the work.”