Colorado Courtship: Winter of Dreams / The Rancher's Sweetheart

“Hunters shoot them for their antlers. For the most part the moose are only looking to survive. This one is big and probably eats a lot of food in a day. Today he got a little too close to town, but we’re living in his territory, after all.”

Violet studied the beast with a different perspective. “Do the hunters eat them?”

“I don’t think so. They just shoot them for the trophy.”

“Seems like a cruel thing to do.”

“I agree.” Tessa moved away from the window. “Try the little sandwiches Mrs. Match brought. They’re delicious. And I got a slice of cake for you before it was gone.”

“Thank you, Tessa. I didn’t get around to eating. I’ve been busy. I’d better think about supper once I’ve tasted the lunch.”

“People will be heading home soon. I’ll stay until the last guest is gone and then put away chairs while Ben Charles and Henry see to the grave.”

Violet’s stomach plummeted. She nodded.

After Tessa had gone, she peered at the food. The thought of eating didn’t appeal to her, but she forced herself to taste the sandwich. Again taking control of her thoughts, she moved a chair before the window, carried her plate and sat to observe the moose.

It had moved farther away and was nibbling at twigs poking through the snow. She nibbled at a slice of pickle. She and that moose were getting by the best they knew how. She found the humor in comparing herself to a moose and finished her funeral meal before setting about preparing supper.

It was still early enough to cook a roast, so she browned the meat and set the covered pan in the oven before peeling potatoes and turnips.

She had time later to wash and change before supper. Henry didn’t join them that evening. “The sky is threatening snow, so he went on home,” Ben Charles explained after he’d prayed. “He looks after his elderly grandfather.”

“He never mentioned it,” Violet replied.

“News is there’s a storm farther north, and it’s heading this way. I strung a rope from the back door to the stable before I came in.”

“What for?”

“If visibility is poor, I can find my way there and back to feed and water the horses.”

“I can help you.”

“We’ll see what it looks like in the morning. I wouldn’t mind the company.”

They ate, and the siblings were unusually quiet. Violet assumed they were tired from their long day.

“I liked the biscuits,” Tessa told her.

“Klenor,” Violet explained. “Sweet cream makes the difference. I made trivilies for dessert.” She brought a tray with a plate full of the pastries and cups of coffee. Hot tea for Tessa. The walnut and oatmeal sandwich cookies held a layer of date filling.

“There wasn’t anything this tasty at the luncheon today,” Ben Charles said. “You go to a lot of work for us.”

“I could make these in my sleep,” she said. “At the bakery I made hundreds at a time. Even a dozen seems like a lot for us. The extras will be in the pantry.”

“Not for long,” Ben Charles said, reaching for another.

The dining room was on the side of the house against the funeral home, so there were no windows. Violet was surprised when she returned to the kitchen to hear the wind howling against the door and window. She peered out to discover a flurry of swirling white flakes obscuring the backyard and the stable.

“I grabbed the cloths that were in a heap in the yard,” Ben Charles said from behind her.

“Oh, thank you. I’m afraid I dropped it when the moose startled me.”

“Henry thinks he’s moved on. The animal must have sensed the storm coming and come foraging.”

“I never knew a moose was so large!”

“That’s why I cautioned you to be alert.”

“I’d have run from that fellow even without forewarning.”

Tessa helped her with the dishes, while Ben Charles went next door.

That evening Violet selected a book and sat with Tessa in her upstairs getaway. Later the hallway grew chilly, so they decided to move to their rooms where they could stoke their fireplaces.

Alone in her room with the wind battering the window, Violet was thankful for her job and for a warm place to sleep at night. This home was built of brick, and inside they were safe from the elements. She was comfortable here, and the Hammonds treated her well. Church and Ben Charles’s prayers were new to her, but he and Tessa set great store by God, and Violet had no evidence they were wrong.

At a tap on her door she stood from her chair, with her shawl wrapped around her, and opened it.

Ben Charles stood in the hallway, holding an armful of logs. “I’m sorry to disturb you. I’m afraid I got busy, but I wanted to make sure you had enough wood to last the night.”

She took a step back. “Thank you. I’m keeping quite warm, thank you.”

He placed the wood in the bin beside the fireplace and brushed bits of bark from his sleeve, then picked them up and tossed them into the fire. After striding back to the door, he turned momentarily. “Sleep well.”

She closed the door behind him and listened to his footsteps move away down the hallway. A feeling of well-being akin to nothing she’d ever experienced washed over her.

She wasn’t sure how she knew it, but she belonged here.

Chapter Seven

Ben Charles awoke to the sound of the wind. During the winter months when he wasn’t tending to graves or grounds, he had time to work on headstones. He found it immensely satisfying to create monuments that would last through the ages and bless the families of the departed.

In his workshop were stacks of flat cut marble and he had been looking forward to time to work on them.

The tantalizing smells of coffee and bacon drew him to the kitchen, where Violet coached Tessa on cutting circles from a layer of dough. “What are you ladies up to?”

“Violet’s teaching me to drop doughnuts.” Tessa took two of the circles she’d cut and turned to place them in an enormous skillet of grease.

The resulting popping sounds and the smell made Ben Charles’s stomach rumble. “I have an idea where you can drop a couple of those doughnuts.” With a grin, he poured himself a cup of coffee.

“I’ll fix you a plate,” Violet offered.

He stopped her with a raised hand. “I’ll get my own. You’re busy.”

The oven held pans of bacon and a platter of pancakes she’d kept warming.

“I helped make those, too,” his sister called.