A Daddy For Christmas

“Lib. Lib.” Eleanor nudged her sister. “Look.”

Libby lifted her head. Both girls grinned when they saw their mother had opened her eyes.

“Where am I?” Clara’s voice was so faint he almost wondered if he imagined it.

He scooted closer so her eyes found him. “You’re at the church. You’ll be safe now.”

Clara sighed deeply and closed her eyes again. Her color had improved. The warmth of the fire had done that. She needed one more thing before she’d be on her feet again—food—and he knew where to get some.

“Wait here,” he instructed the girls. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. Watch your mama and make sure she stays warm.” He dashed out the back door and trotted over to Bonnie and Claude Morton’s. The couple ran the business of feeding travelers and providing baked goods for Macpherson’s store. He burst through the door.

Bonnie glanced up, a startled look on her face. “You’re early for dinner.” He planned to take his meals here while he was working on the church.

He snatched off his hat and turned it around and around in his fingers. He realized he was nodding while she waited for his answer.

He pushed the words from his brain. “Would you have anything ready at the moment?”

“I suppose the soup could be served anytime. The bread isn’t ready yet, but there are biscuits. There’s always biscuits. Macpherson says he can’t keep enough of them in the store. Would that suit you?”

“Yes, fine.”

She reached for a bowl and put it on the table. She thought he meant to eat here.

“Ma’am, could you put the soup in a container so I could take it back to the church?”

“You’re welcome to eat here.”

“I know, but I need to take it to the church.” He would tell her why but not until he had a chance to talk to Clara. For some reason, he felt he had to protect her until she said otherwise.

“Very well.” She reached for a pint jar.

“You got something bigger?”

Her hand went to a quart jar.

“How about that one?” He indicated a half-gallon jar.

With a little chuckle, she filled it. “You are hungry today, aren’t you?”

He nodded. “And I’ll take a bowl.” He scooped four from the shelf and tucked them in his pocket, hoping she wouldn’t notice. From the way she watched him, her eyes narrowed, he guessed she had.

“I suppose you want half a dozen biscuits?”

“Yes, please. I’ll pay you extra for this.” Bonnie and Claude meant to feed him as part of their contribution to the church project, but this was more than one man would eat.

He hurried out before she could demand to know what was going on. It wasn’t like he could answer her. What were Clara and her daughters doing here? Where were they going? Most of all, how had he managed to get himself involved?

* * *

Warm furs ensconced Clara. She’d glimpsed the girls hovering over her, then closed her eyes to stop the dizziness that made her queasy. She should say something to ease their minds, but she couldn’t dredge up enough energy to do so. She forced her eyes open and stared at the ceiling. Why did it shimmer and shift as if driven by a wind? Perhaps she was dreaming. If so, she didn’t want the dream to end. She wanted to keep floating on the warm bed.

“Mama?” Eleanor’s voice came from a long way off.

Clara pushed at the edges of her mind, blinked as she tried to find her children. “Eleanor? Libby?”

Two sweet, smiling faces floated in front of her, so close she felt their warm breath.

“Where am I?”

“We’re at the church,” Eleanor said. “The one we saw on our way to the river.”

“Mama, we was so scared. You fell down and wouldn’t get back up.”

Clara pushed harder to escape her dream. Then she remembered. She’d been by a river. Had wanted to get a drink. That was the last she could recall. “How did I get here?”

“Mr. Blue carried you.”

“Mr. Blue?” Were they imagining such a person? Clara thought the strong arms and comforting voice had been part of her dream.

“We talked to a stranger,” Libby said.

“You aren’t mad at us, are you?” Eleanor’s voice quivered.

“No. Not this time.” If she was to be angry at anyone, it would be herself. She should have made more of an effort to find food. Begged if necessary. Please, God, provide a way.

Clara collected her thoughts.

She had managed to get to Edendale only to learn the stagecoach wouldn’t be going north for at least a week. Maybe two. The stagecoach driver had been rather nonspecific in his answers to her questions. He had no set schedule for the hundred-mile trip to Fort Calgary and only went when it was necessary. Right now, he said, he had to make another run back to Fort Macleod. It was a pressing matter. After that, he’d take her north.

It had never crossed her mind that transportation would be so uncertain.

She needed to get to Fort Calgary. A newspaper story had said there was a shortage of women in the area. There’d even been an ad from a man wanting to hire a housekeeper to care for his three young children. She’d sent a letter saying she was willing to do so. Now she wondered if the letter still sat somewhere, waiting to be delivered. Just as she waited to get there.

Fort Calgary was in the middle of nowhere. Which suited her perfectly. No one would expect her to go to such a remote place, especially her father. He thought twenty-eight-year-old Clara was unable to take care of herself in a city full of conveniences, let alone look after herself and two little girls in the primitive west.

Edendale was equally as remote, but she had seen no opportunities for work in the little town. And she had to prove she could manage herself and her girls.

The girls sprang up. “He’s back.”

Clara closed her eyes. How was she to face a man who had carried her in his arms? Something else came to her thoughts. He’d called her by her Christian name. Highly improper, but she could hardly protest. Her name on his lips had pulled her back from the valley of darkness.

She heard the sound of boots clattering on the wooden floor. The smell of winter and leather grew closer. A movement of air signaled his nearness.

“Mrs. Weston?”

Oh, yes, she was Mrs. Weston now. She’d combined her married name of Westbury and her maiden name of Creighton in the hopes her father wouldn’t be able to find her. She reasoned that way she wasn’t really being deceitful by combing her maiden and married names. Hopefully, it was enough to put her father off her trail for a time, at least.

“Are you awake?” the man at her side asked.