A Daddy For Christmas

She stirred, tried to raise her eyelids and failed, then mumbled something.

He bent closer. “What did you say?”

He made out the words. “My girls.”

“They’re here. They’re fine.” Then she stilled, and he could get nothing more from her. “Gather up your things,” he told the girls. “We’re going back to the church.” He considered his options for about two and a half seconds. What he was about to do seriously crossed the boundaries he had built around his life as well as overstepped rules of proper conduct. But he didn’t see what other choice he had. He scooped Clara Weston into his arms and trotted back to the church. The two little girls tried to keep up but were burdened down with carrying their bags. He didn’t wait for them; he rushed into the building.

He began to lower Clara to the floor, then realized it was bare and cold. His bedroll was nearby, and Blue kicked it toward the stove and used his boot to spread the bedding. He’d expected he might see some cold weather, so he had brought a supply of furs. Now he saw how right he’d been in thinking ahead, though never in his wildest imagination did he think he might need them to warm up a sick or injured woman.

He lowered her to the padding just as the girls entered, yelling for their mama.

“What’s wrong with her?” Libby demanded, her hands on her hips as if she held Blue responsible.

Eleanor hushed her and knelt by her mother’s side. “Mr. Blue, is she gonna die?”

He wanted to assure them otherwise, but he’d never offer false hope when their mother lay before them so still, her skin so pale it was transparent. “I think the first thing we need to do is get her warmed up. Why don’t you two bring me some more firewood?” Eddie Gardiner, owner and operator of Eden Valley Ranch where Blue worked, was always organized and had put a supply of firewood inside, near the back door, so Blue would have dry wood to last him a few days.

The girls hustled over and filled their arms. Two chunks of wood each was about all they could carry. He could have done three times that in one trip but that wasn’t the reason for getting them to help. The girls needed to be kept busy.

He knelt at Clara’s side. My, wouldn’t she be offended at the familiar way he thought of her and addressed her, but it was hard to be proper and formal when the woman looked ready to expire. “Mrs. Weston. Clara.” He rubbed her shoulders, held her icy hands. Why was she out in this weather without adequate clothing?

He pulled one of the furs over her and threw some of the wood the girls brought into the stove.

“Has your mama been sick?”

Libby began to say something, but Eleanor grabbed her hand and jerked it. She spoke for the pair of them. “She’s not been sick.”

He knew everyone in town and the surrounding area. These people were new. Must have been dropped off from the last stage earlier today. Petey, the driver, had immediately headed back to Fort Macleod with four important British investors of one of the nearby ranches.

“Is your papa coming for you?” Likely he was one of the many new settlers in the area.

“Got no papa,” Libby said. “He died.” Her words carried a weighty sorrow that he felt in the pit of his stomach.

“Libby, remember what Mama said.”

At Eleanor’s warning, Libby clamped her hand over her mouth.

Blue nodded. “Were you planning to meet someone?”

Silence from both of them.

“Where are you going?”

His question was met with more stubborn silence, though Libby dropped her hand and looked about to speak. Then she glanced at Eleanor and thought better of it.

“Do you girls have a secret?”

Eleanor scowled. “Mama said not to tell strangers our secrets.”

He gave them a faint smile. “That’s something to remember most days, but right now your mama needs to get someplace warm and safe, so I think it’s okay if you tell me where you’re going.”

Eleanor’s face crumpled in what he could only think was confusion. “We can’t.”

They were making this difficult. “I already explained about secrets.”

“It’s not a secret.” Eleanor sighed expansively. “We don’t know where we’re going.”

Perhaps their mother hadn’t given them the information. “Who is meeting you?”

The girls shook their heads.

“You don’t know?”

More head shaking.

This was getting him nowhere. He turned back to Clara. She still lay motionless, her skin tinged a faint blue. He touched her cheek. Still icy cold.

“Mrs. Weston, wake up. Open your eyes.”

The girls knelt beside him. “Mama, wake up.”

Libby’s voice broke, and Eleanor wrapped an arm about her shoulders. “Libby, ’member what Mama said. God will take care of us.”

Blue kept his opinion to himself. But he didn’t see God taking care of these people. Blue was doing it, and he sure didn’t consider himself God. Or even godly. If he had a fraction of the power God had, he would have quenched the fire that had consumed his house and killed his family. At the very least, he would have gotten there in time to pull them from the inferno. He’d never forget the leaden weight of his legs when he saw the smoke, saw it was his house and ran until his lungs nearly exploded as he tried to get there to rescue them.

Tried and failed.

“I—I know.” The words stuttered from Libby. “But I asked God to send us food, and He didn’t and I’m so hungry.”

“Me, too,” Eleanor whispered and shot Blue a look that seemed to warn him she didn’t mean for him to hear.

He sat back on his heels. “When did you last eat?”

Eleanor’s expression grew stubborn, but Libby hung her head and sighed dramatically. “We had supper yesterday. Some biscuits Mama found. And some cold bacon.”

Eleanor grew thoughtful. “But Mama didn’t have any. She said she wasn’t hungry. Lots of times she said she wasn’t hungry, but I think she was.”

He considered this latest information. They obviously had no funds. The girls didn’t know where they were going or who was meeting them. He was beginning to think no one was.

So Clara might be suffering from hunger as well as cold. He wrapped the furs more tightly around her and added another piece of wood to the fire. The heat was enough to make a man sweat buckets, but she was still like a block of ice.

“Clara. Open your eyes.”

The girls patted her cheeks. “Mama.” Eleanor’s voice caught.

Libby laid her head on the furs and sobbed. “What if she never wakes up?”

Clara’s eyes fluttered.