Christmas Kringle (Tales From Biders Clump Book 1) Page 6

  His father hadn't always been so bitter, but he'd never been what one could call a cheerful man. He wondered if two people truly could work together to help others find their own joy.

  "Did ya hear that?" George shouted, bringing a hush to the noisy crowd. "I'm sure I heard something," he added, cupping an ear and looking about.

  Rafe grinned as through the front door a man in a dusty red suit entered, carrying a heavy sack on his back.

  "Ho, ho, ho,” he bellowed, a pipe clenched in his teeth, "someone told me there were some good little girls and boys here," he winked at Rafe with a twinkling brown eye, "so I hurried over to see for myself." The faux Santa chuckled.

  With the wonder only a child can project, the little ones of Biders Clump circled the man, their eyes wide.

  One by one each child was handed a small bundle which they opened enthusiastically, oohing and aahing over little hand-carved figures and a precious collection of candy.

  A soft hand came to rest on Rafe's arm, and he turned to gaze into the smiling face of Seraphina Adams.

  "Shh," she whispered, covering her lips with a finger, taking his hand and dragging him through the back door.

  "Sara. What if your Ma sees us?" Rafe said, real concern in his voice.

  "We'll only be a minute," she said. "I have something for you." She smiled brightly, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a tightly-wrapped bundled not much bigger than her hands.

  "You didn't need to get me anything," he said, his heart growing in his chest.

  "Just open it," Sara chided, her eyes bright.

  Rafe ripped into the simple brown paper with a grin. Beneath the layers of string and parchment, he exposed a pair of warm winter gloves, their brown leather a perfect contrast to his heavy tan coat.

  As he lifted the gloves, a long strand of braided leather dropped loose, dangling from a thick wooden button sewn on to the outer edge.

  "What's this?" He questioned, lifting the gloves in the dim light to examine them.

  "Put them on," Sara chivied, excitement clear in her voice.

  Rafe slipped the heavily padded gloves onto his hands; they were soft and subtle, molding to his hands snuggly. He turned his hands, watching as the straps snapped back and forth with the movement.

  "Be still," Sara barked, taking up one end of the braid in her hand and neatly buttoning it over the deer horn buttons at his cuff. "There,” she said, stepping back and looking at him expectantly.

  Rafe tossed his head back and laughed. "That is clever," he stated, leaning over to kiss her softly on the cheek.

  "Now take them offh" Sara said, practically bouncing on her toes.

  Tugging on each finger, he loosened the new gloves and removed them from his hands until they fell from his fingers, dangling from their sturdy straps.

  "No more lost gloves," Sara stated cheerfully.

  "Thank you," Rafe growled, his voice husky with the need to kiss her. Running his hand along her cheek, he pulled her to him and kissed her softly on the lips, letting her sink into his arms and holding her close.

  "We'd better get back before someone misses us," he grumbled reluctantly a few minutes later.

  Sara pulled back, her cheeks flushed from the kiss and from the cold. "You go first," she whispered, dropping her eyes, "and Merry Christmas."

  Rafe stepped through the door to the noise of a Biders Clump Christmas.

  Chapter 10

  "You're terribly quiet tonight," Mrs. Adams spoke to her youngest daughter as they walked into their snug little cabin. Snow had begun to fall earlier and the rooftop was capped with white.

  "It's been a busy day," Sara replied.

  "I think it was the best Christmas pageant yet," Prissy commented cheerfully, her cheeks rosy from the cold.

  "Leave it to Billy Stanley to tell everyone he was as sheep," Quil added with a chuckle.

  "He is sweet, though," their mother remarked. "Let's get everything inside and cleaned up so we can go to bed," she added, opening the door.

  The familiar cabin was cold as the fires had gone out, but the little tree sparkled in the soft moonlight that streamed through the windows.

  Prissy moved to the fireplace, stacking logs in the open grate while Sara and Maud entered the kitchen and started a fire in the stove.

  Soon a roaring fire was going, and together the girls washed the dishes, each still bubbling with the holiday spirit that had permeated the service and Christmas festivities.

  “Why don’t you girls bring your gifts out and place them under the tree for tomorrow morning,” Maud suggested, covering a yawn with her hand. “We’ll be up bright and early either way,” she smiled sleepily.

  Scurrying to their rooms, the girls soon returned with packages wrapped simply in plain paper and string, arranging them carefully under the pretty tree.

  “Don’t they look lovely?” Mrs. Adams said, crossing her hands over her stomach. “We’ll have a splendid Christmas,” but her smile was a little too stiff and her eyes didn’t reflect the merriment of the times.

  “I think I’ll turn in,” Aquila said, placing a kiss on her mother’s cheek. “It’s been a long day and I’m ready to snuggle in for the night.”

  “Goodnight,” her mother echoed.

  One by one the girls said their good nights before trundling to their rooms and warm beds.

  ***

  A soft jingling sound drifted past Sara’s window, a sound like muffled sleigh bells in the snow. Silently she rose, lifting her warmest wrap and pulling it snug against the cold of the night.

  The solid floors of the little home muted the slight shuffle of her stocking feet, and she turned into the large living room where the banked fire still glowed.

  Above the mantle a small golden ball sat, reflecting the golden embers. Sara rubbed her eyes and blinked as she stared at the stockings now full to overflowing. She wondered sleepily where her mother had found the extra stores for so many special treats.

  A slight scuffing noise drew her attention as she noticed something moving by the tree, and she ducked behind the fireplace to see who it was. Perhaps one of her sisters had held back a gift or two as a surprise.

  The meager array of packages had been so small and simple, they seemed to disappear under the heavy boughs of the evergreen.

  As Sara watched, Rafe Dixion unfolded himself from behind the tree, a large sack in one hand as the other fished inside its capacious folds and pulled out a pink box wrapped in a bright ribbon. Another package followed, and she could just make out the patterns on the serviceable but pretty calicos that were tied up with string.

  “Rafe?” she questioned, stepping into the room and making him start, but as his eyes took in who it was, his bright smile lit the room.

  “Shhh,” he said, reaching toward her. “I’m not Rafe, I’m Santa’s helper,” he hissed roguishly, pointing at the bits of tinsel stuck to his cowboy hat.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m playing Santa.”

  “But why?”

  “I’d think that was obvious.” He blinked at her, then he pulled still more items from his bag. “Wait right here,” he grinned as he ducked silently out the door and returned with a soft swish of cold air and a heavy box.

  On tip-toes he moved toward the kitchen at the back of the house, placed the wooden box on the table, and began to unpack several items of food.

  Sara’s eyes grew round as she saw first a turkey, then a casserole, and finally two beautifully made pies. She sniffed as warm tears trickled down her face.

  “You shouldn’t have,” she whispered.

  Shoving the crate under the table, Rafe reached out and wiped the tears away with his thumb, kissing her softly on the forehead.

  “Darlin’,” he drawled, “I’d do anything for you.”

  Sara wrapped her arms around him, feeling his warmth and kindness all the way through her.

  “I don’t know what to say,” Sara stuttered.

  “You don’t have to
say anything,” Rafe answered, holding her close. “Don’t you know I love you sweet, Seraphina?”

  “I love you, too,” she sniffed into his shoulder.

  Rafe pushed her away, holding her at arm’s length. “Say it again.”

  “I love you.” She offered him a watery smile.

  Rafe’s smile was as bright as the noon-day sun, and he dipped his head to kiss her, tasting the salt of her tears on her lips.

  “You know we have to wait, don’t you?” he whispered into her hair a few minutes later.

  “I know, but I wish we didn’t,” Sara agreed, her eyes downcast.

  Placing a finger under her chin, Rafe lifted her green eyes to look at him. “I’d run off with you, but I know it would break your heart to leave your Ma, and as cantankerous as he is, I’m all my father has left.”

  Sara smiled, her eyes bright with love and pride. “Is it any wonder I’ve fallen so completely in love with you?” she asked, stroking the braided leather strap that suspended his winter gloves.

  “We have plenty of time, Sara,” Rafe said, pulling her close again and resting his chin on the top of her head. “We’ll bide our time.” He grinned wickedly, pulling back to gaze into her eyes, “after all isn’t that what we do in Biders Clump?”

  Sara giggled, then rose up to kiss him softly. “It’s nearly morning,” she said, “you’d better go.” Taking his hand, she walked him to the front door, where Chester stood waiting patiently.

  The big, freckly horse nodded his head, making his bridle jingle like bells.

  “I have something special for you,” he finally whispered, pulling a tiny package from his breast pocket.

  Carefully Sara unwrapped the little box and removed a long gold chain with a simple golden band embossed with a heart suspended from it.

  She gasped, eyes wide at the lovely trinket.

  “I’d like it to be a promise,” Rafe said, his voice full of emotion. “Until we can be wed, you can wear it around your neck.”

  Sara nodded, her heart so full of joy her mouth wouldn’t work.

  Rafe wrapped his arms around Sara again, liking the way she felt pressed up close to his heart.

  “I’ll see you in the grove tomorrow,” he said, dipping his head for one more kiss.

  In an onyx sky the bright northern star, brighter than the approaching morning, twinkled down a blessing on the two young lovers in the tiny town of Biders Clump.

  Epilogue

  The sound of excited voices drifted from the parlor as Sara hastily pulled her wrap around her and dashed out to where her family was gathered around the Christmas tree.

  “Mama!” Aquila squealed, “where did it all come from?”

  Maud Adams stood in the middle of the room, eyes wide with wonder.

  “Oh, look at the fabrics!” Pricilla oohed. “There’s enough for each of us to have a new dress. Even you, Mama.” She pulled a soft blue from the pile, wrapping it around her shoulders like a shawl.

  “This must be for you, Sara.” Prissy rose, handing a box to her little sister. Across the box the words YOUNGEST had been scrawled.

  Sara opened the small box to find two simple wooden combs made of pale wood. He would think of such a thing, she thought, a smile etching her pretty face.

  “A writing box!” Quil’s loud shout had everyone looking as she held up the little pink box full of pen, paper and ink. “And look at this stamp from Sara.” She twinkled, dashing around and showing the little quill stamp to her mother and sister. “It’s the best Christmas in ages.”

  "Did you see the stockings?" Prissy chimed, "There's even an orange for each of us."

  “Let’s make breakfast,” Sara finally called, hiding her smile. “I’m hungry.”

  Together they scurried into the kitchen, only to be caught up short by their mother, who stood with tears streaming down her face as she looked at the meal spread out on the table.

  Sara’s eyes twinkled with delight at the beautiful surprise. Somehow she was sure that everything would work out alright if she just gave it a little time.

  “Come on, Mama,” she said, taking her mother’s hand. “It looks like we have a turkey to cook. Santa sure has been busy this year."

  The End

  Author's Note

  Ms. Polly Esther, although a fictitious character, gleans her name from a distant relative of my very own everyday hero. During genealogy research, my mother-in-law found a family member who was indeed called Polly Esther. This spritely older woman had been named before the invention of the most infamous fabric that shared her name, and instead of being embarrassed by this fact, embraced it fully.

  Polly Esther Olson's character, one we will see often in the little town of Biders Clump, is an amalgamation of so many of the beautiful, open-hearted story tellers I have had the privilege to get to know and reflects many of the little quirks and traits of those who love to share a little fiction with the world.

  An Extra Gift: Never Fail Fudge

  This recipe has been used in my family for ages and is still a favorite with everyone and has been committed to my memory since I was only nine.

  1 stick butter or margarine

  2 heaping tsp creamy peanut butter

  ½ cup evaporated milk

  2 Tbs unsweetened cocoa powder

  2 tsp corn syrup 1 tsp vanilla extract

  2 cups sugar

  In a heavy sauce pan, combine butter and milk over medium heat. Slowly add sugar and corn syrup, bringing to a rolling boil. Boil, stirring constantly, for four minutes. Remove from heat, adding vanilla. Stir and pour into mixing bowl of peanut butter and cocoa. Mix well. When it starts to lose its shine, pour into a buttered tin or 8x8 pan. Let cool and serve.

  If you enjoyed this book check out more books by Danni Roan at http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B013UPZ3IK

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  Dear Reader,

  Thank you for choosing to read my book. I hope you have enjoyed it as much as I’ve enjoyed writing it. I you enjoyed the story, please feel free to leave a review wherever you purchased the book. Leaving a review will help me and prospective readers to know what you liked about this book. It is an opportunity for your voice to be heard and for you to tell others why the story is worth a read.

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  https://www.facebook.com/groups/pioneerhearts/

  A group dedicated to this genre that offers a chance to know the authors, win prizes, and learn about new books.

  About the Author

  Danni Roan, a native of western Pennsylvania, spent her childhood roaming the lush green mountains on horseback. She has always loved westerns, and specifically western romance, and is thrilled to be part of this exciting genre. She has lived and worked overseas with her husband and tries to incorporate the unique quality of the people she has met throughout the years into her books. Although Danni is a relatively new author on the scene, she has been a storyteller her entire life, even causing her mother to remark that as a child, “If she told a story, she had to tell the whole story.” Danni is truly excited about this new adventure in writing and hopes that you will enjoy reading her stories as much as she enjoys writing them.