Judith Stacy - All a Cowboy Wants for Christmas - Waiting for Christmas / His Christmas Wish / Once Upon a Frontier Christmas

The bell over the door jingled, taking Lucy’s attention. As she went to wait on the customer, Marlee gave her a wave and left the shop.

She’d hoped that talking with Lucy might clarify her feelings for Carson, but now she was more confused than ever. And she was sad, too, for Ian who seemed to love Lucy so much that he’d stood by her through her marriage, then followed her to Harmony. Sadness filled her for Lucy as well, who’d been so damaged by that marriage she was too fearful to take another chance on love.

Darkness had fallen bringing a deeper chill to the air as Marlee slipped into the store. A dozen women were gathered near Aunt Viola at the counter. Marlee spotted Mrs. Tuttle, Heddy Conroy, Harriet Goodman and Melva Walker among them. Every woman frowned. Chatter flew back and forth between them.

Becky broke away from the group of women and hurried down the aisle.

“Marlee, something terrible happened.” Her words came out in a rush.

All sorts of images filled Marlee’s mind. Had someone been injured? Taken ill? Been killed?

“It’s Malcolm Barrett, Chord’s pa,” Becky told her. She swiped at the tears that sprang to her eyes. “He’s hurt, hurt real bad.”

“What happened?” Marlee asked, frantic for more information.

Becky wrung her hands. “He’s still in Colorado. Remember he went there looking for places for the family to perform? Chord just got a telegram from the sheriff telling him his papa got run over by a runaway freight wagon. It said the whole family should come right away because their papa might not make it.”

“Where’s Audrey?” Marlee asked. “She must be so upset.”

“She’s at the train station,” Becky reported. “The whole Barrett family—every single one of them—is leaving on the next train. It should be pulling out any minute now. Oh, Marlee, this is terrible. Just terrible!”

Marlee slipped her arm around Becky’s shoulders and gave her a hug.

“We have to be strong, Becky, and send good thoughts and prayers.”

Becky drew in a ragged breath. “I’ll say an extra-big prayer.”

Marlee joined the ladies clustered in the back of the store.

“Chord will keep us informed by telegram,” Mrs. Tuttle reported.

“We’ll have a prayer vigil at the church tonight,” Heddy said.

“As soon as the family returns, we’ll take food over,” Melva said.

Several of the women chimed in with food items they would take to the Barrett home. Marlee wished she could cook well enough to volunteer to take something. With their plans made, the women left the store.

“I’ll go to the train station and check on Audrey,” Marlee said. “She must be so worried about Chord’s papa, plus upset that he’s leaving.”

“We’re all worried,” Aunt Viola agreed.

Something in her aunt’s voice caused Marlee to stop and turn back.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Of course, Malcolm’s health is our first concern,” Aunt Viola said. “But with him injured so severely, and with no way of knowing when—or if—he’ll recover, I don’t see how the Barrett family will return to Harmony anytime soon. And without the Barrett Family Singers, our Christmas festival will be a disaster.”

“Ladies?” Mrs. Tuttle clapped her hands together. “Your attention?”

The women gathered in the parlor of the mayor’s wife quieted. Marlee, squeezed between her cousins on the settee, felt the tension in the room.

“Is there anything new to report on his condition?” Mrs. Tuttle asked.

Audrey shook her head. “Still the same.”

Several days had passed since the entire Barrett family boarded a train for Colorado. Chord had sent telegrams but they all gave the same report. Malcolm was alive but clinging to life.

“As you all know, canceling the Barretts’ performances at our festival will have a devastating effect on its success,” Mrs. Tuttle said.

A grumble went through the room. Marlee had heard many of the same comments at the store between Aunt Viola and Uncle Willard. Everyone in Harmony was worried about their financial investment in the festival.

“This is awful,” Becky murmured. “Just awful.”

“Don’t get upset,” Marlee whispered. “Not yet anyway.”

“What if Mama and Papa lose their store?” Becky said. “What if—”

“Calm down,” Marlee told her quietly.

“I have good news,” Mrs. Tuttle said. “I’ve located another musical group. The Laughlin Singers are very well thought of, have toured extensively, and come highly recommended. And they are willing to come to Harmony on this short notice and perform in place of the Barrett family.”

A round of applause went through the room. Excited chatter broke out.

“However,” Mrs. Tuttle said, “unlike the Barretts the Laughlins will not perform free of charge. They expect to be paid—and paid well.”

A groan swept through the crowd.

Becky covered her face with her palms and shook her head. “We’re going to lose everything. Papa might be so upset he’ll—die!”

“Oh, Becky,” Audrey snapped. “Would you just hush up?”

Becky turned tear-filled eyes to her sister and gulped hard.

Marlee gave her an encouraging smile. “Something can be done.”

“Do you think so?” she asked, wiping her eyes.

“Something can always be done,” Marlee assured her.

“How much money does this Laughlin bunch want?” Harriet demanded.

“Do we have any money to pay them?” Melva called.

“I don’t need to remind you that the town council wasn’t in favor of this festival to begin with. So no money will be coming from them,” Mrs. Tuttle said.

Becky groaned and shook her head fitfully. “Oh, I just know something terrible is going to happen to Papa. I just know it.”

“We’ll have to ask for donations,” Mrs. Tuttle said.

“From who ?” someone called. “Every merchant and businessman in town has already stretched themselves thin getting ready for the festival.”

“Not every businessman,” Mrs. Tuttle said. “Not Carson Tate.”

Marlee gasped. Carson was reportedly the richest man in Harmony, and he hadn’t donated to the Christmas festival?

“Marlee can do it!” Becky sprang from her seat. “Marlee can get him to donate lots of money! She did charity work back in Philadelphia, remember?”

Marlee felt every gaze in the room bore into her.

Mrs. Tuttle said to Marlee, “The town, the merchants, the families who are coming here expecting a joyous Christmas celebration—a great deal is at stake.”

Warmth grew inside Marlee. How good it felt to be wanted, needed, especially for something so important. No one—certainly not Mrs. Montgomery—had ever thought so highly as to assign her such an important task or have faith that she could accomplish it.

She knew she could get Carson to donate the money. She’d seen Mrs. Montgomery wheedle funds from the most reluctant benefactors. Not that she’d need any such tactics on Carson. Surely he simply hadn’t known about the festival during its planning stage.

“I should warn you that Mr. Tate might not be anxious to make a donation,” Mrs. Tuttle said.

Marlee doubted that were true. Everyone said he was terribly busy, always rushing about, so he probably hadn’t had the opportunity to make a donation. The festival was a very worthy cause, so all she had to do was ask and he would give generously.

“I feel confident I can handle it,” Marlee said.

Mrs. Tuttle didn’t seem convinced. “You’re quite certain?”

Marlee rose and faced the women. “Absolutely,” she declared.

“Very well, then,” Mrs. Tuttle said. “The Christmas festival will proceed.”