The River Girl's Christmas (Texas Women of Spirit Book 4) (8 page)

W
hen Soonie woke on Christmas morning, the realization of the day rolled over her in delightful waves. She wriggled with excitement, like a little girl.

She slipped out of bed as quietly as possible, so as not to disturb her still sleeping husband. Lone Warrior almost never slept through the dawn, but since his injury she’d allowed him a few more hours of shut-eye.
Especially after last night.

Kneeling beside the bed, she tucked her nightgown under her knees to protect them from the cold floor and leaned her cheek against Grandma Louise’s double-wedding ring quilt.

“Lord, thank you so much that all is well. My husband and I are safe, Patsy was saved, even the cat was saved. You are so very good to us. Thank you for sending your son on Christmas. Amen.”

Warm fingers touched her forehead, and she kissed her husband’s hand, tears slipping down her face.

###

Soonie shuffled into the kitchen. The room was toasty warm compared to the bedroom, since she’d been too sleepy to keep up with the fire through the night. Grandma Louise already had bacon frying in one pan and a mysterious substance—perhaps pudding—in another pot on the stove.

“Merry Christmas. Can I help with something?” Soonie asked.

Grandma’s smile covered her face. “Merry Christmas, dear. How about setting the table? Zillia and Wylder should be here any moment.”

True to her words, the door flew open and they all blustered in. Zillia and Wylder came in first, with Margo, Orrie and Patsy. Henry and Will followed, and at the very end came Grandpa.

Everyone hugged and exchanged Christmas greetings.

In the midst of the happy chaos, Soonie noticed a tall shadow standing by the fire. She pushed through the throng until she reached her husband’s side. Wrapping her fingers around his good arm, she pulled him down to whisper in his ear. “Merry Christmas, my love.”

He smiled, but said nothing, his dark eyes wandering over the room.

Grandpa said a prayer, and they all sat down for a Christmas breakfast of ham, bacon, fresh bread, beans and sweet rolls. Zillia brought in a covered platter from the wagon. She pulled off the towel that covered a mysterious, lumpy shape with a flourish.

Underneath lay a rather uneven stack of roundish breads, with red candies set on the tops.

“What is that?” Orrie asked.

“Well, it’s supposed to be . . .” Zillia began, but she was interrupted.

“Lussekater.” Grandma Louise dabbed her eyes with her apron. “Sweet girl, how did you know how to make them?”

“Well, Grandpa Walt helped me.” Zillia poked at one of the rolls. “They’re a bit dense, but with some butter I think they’ll taste all right.”

Grandpa Walt grinned. “I couldn’t remember all the stuff, but it looks pretty close, doesn’t it?”

Grandma Louise picked a roll up and examined it. “Ah, just the sight of this bread brings back memories. My mother made it every year, and it was my job to bring the platter to the table. Thank you, Zillia, what a wonderful present.”

Orrie tugged on Zillia’s arm. “Is it gift time, Zillie?”

“Presents after breakfast, Orrie,” said Wylder. His tone was stern but his blue eyes danced with impatience that mirrored the little boy’s.

“Everyone grab a plate and eat quick,” said Grandpa Walt. “These children are getting antsy.”

Soonie found it hard to sit still, despite her twenty years.
I’m so thankful we got back our saddlebags with the presents.
Her eyes met her husband’s, and he gave her that special smile, the one that made her feel like the most beautiful girl in the world.

Of course, that wasn’t the most important thing, but it’s still nice.

Orrie grabbed the last piece of bacon and gobbled it up. “Breakfast is done.” His cheeks still bulged with food. “Let’s open presents!”

“All right, everyone.” Grandpa rose to his feet and ambled to the other side of the room. He settled into his chair. “I’ve got my seat.”

Grandma Louise lit the candles on the tree. They winked and flickered, each adding their own special touch to the day’s perfection.

Everyone gathered around the tree, most sinking to the smooth pine floors. Will and Henry handed out the gifts.

Orrie crowed over his new wooden top and painted lead soldiers. Grandpa beamed when he opened green and white striped mittens, knitted by Grandma, and a matching muffler made by Zillia, who’s handiwork had improved considerably over the years.

Grandma Louise opened Zillia’s scrapbook, and a beaded shawl from Soonie.

Soonie and Zillia laughed when they opened their gifts from each other. Both held up aprons, though Zillia’s was embellished with painted Comanche designs and very different from Soonie’s muslin with lace trim.

An excited cry came from the children’s corner, where Patsy sat. “Oh, Mrs. Eckhart! Is she really for me?”

Patsy held up Sarah, Soonie’s doll. “Her hair’s all fixed.” The little girl touched the hem of a newly-sewn dress. “She’s even more beautiful than before.”

“That’s why I asked you to gather eggs this morning,” Zillia said, mischief dancing in her eyes. “I snuck her from the room to pretty her up. The doll is from Soonie, and I made the dress.”

Patsy leapt to her feet and flung her arms around Soonie. “Thank you so much! She’s the only doll I’ve ever had, ‘cept for one I made from a corn-cob once. And the rats ate her.”

“Surely there weren’t rats in your house?” Wylder frowned.

The little girl nodded. “Sometimes my brother fought ‘em off with a stick so’s they wouldn’t nibble at our toes.”

Soonie saw Wylder raise his eyebrows at Zillia, and Zillia nodded.
Wonder what those two are up to?

“From your grandpa and me.” Grandma handed Soonie a beautifully carved box she recognized as one that always sat on her grandparent’s chest of drawers.

Soonie traced the painted flowers with a finger. “Oh, Grandma, it’s lovely. I’ve always admired this box.”

“Look inside.” Grandma’s eyes shone.

A red stone caught the light from a candle as Soonie opened the box. Her fingers trembled as she withdrew the garnet ring. “Your wedding ring?” she whispered. “Grandma, you can’t give me this.”

“Of course I can.” Grandma bent down and gave her a fierce hug. “We want you to know how happy we are for you and your young man. Just wish we could have given it sooner.”

Sliding the ring on her finger, Soonie blinked back tears. Grandpa gave her a proud smile from his seat by the fire.

Henry handed Wylder a bundle. “This is the last present.”

Wylder unwrapped the piece of hide, bound by twine, to reveal a shining knife. Tiny birds and beasts chased each other around the bone handle.

He turned it over and over. “Who made this? I carve a little, myself, but I’ve never tried bone. This is beautiful.”

Soonie glanced at her husband, who was playing with a piece of twine from one of the packages. “Lone Warrior made it for you,” she said softly. “He was looking forward to meeting you the most.”

Wylder stared down at his gift. “Thank you,” he choked out. He rose and held out his hand. “Lone Warrior, I’m proud to call you my brother.”

After the festivities were tidied and the youngest children put down for naps, clutching their treasures, Soonie followed Lone Warrior outside and down the path to the river, where she and Zillia had spent so much time in their childhood. “How did you like your first white folk’s Christmas?”

He squinted out at the cold, rushing water. “I enjoyed the children’s laughter. And everyone seems so happy to be here. But I liked our first Christmas better.”

“Huddled in a shelter with no presents, and only half a rabbit to eat?”

He pulled her closer. “But we were all alone in the open air with miles of space between us and the rest of the world. The walls are too thick here. They keep out the sky.”

“As soon as you’ve had a few more weeks to rest, we’ll go home,” she promised. “But this time, we’re taking the train the whole way.”

###

That night, candles and lanterns bobbed through the streets of Bastrop as the members of the Methodist church made their way to the sacred pews and settled in for the Nativity presentation.

Children crowned with lopsided head covers and halos filed into the church. Sadie’s costume, Zillia observed with relief, was free of tears and stains, and she carried the baby Jesus doll to his place in the manger with uncharacteristic gentleness.

Patsy and Orrie trooped in with the rest of the shepherds, each flashing bright smiles as they shuffled by. Wylder squeezed her hand as the organist started up the first notes of “Hark, the Herald Angels Sing!”

The play progressed smoother than Zillia ever dreamed. Her eyes kept resting on Patsy, who carried out her part with a touching seriousness.

Mrs. Fowler had told her before the play started that the little girl’s grandma had taken a turn for the worst and was not likely to last the week. She’d pressed Zillia not to tell her until after Christmas. “Let the poor dear have her special day.”

Zillia glanced up at Wylder, and saw that he, too, gazed at the little girl. She snuggled against his shoulder.
He’ll let me keep her.  We don’t have much, but we can give her a family.

The angel emerged from the shadows to deliver his message of hope and joy to the shepherds. Suddenly, Patsy’s freckled face paled. She jumped to her feet, shepherd’s staff clattering to the floor.

“Aunt Mel? Wade? Pearl?” she gasped.

The angel of the Lord’s mouth dropped open as Patsy darted off the stage and ran down the aisle.

Zillia stood and turned to see her throw her arms around a middle-aged woman in the back pew.

“Aunt Mel, Aunt Mel, how are you? Merry Christmas! And Wade, isn’t the play beautiful? Pearl, how did you all get here?”

Wade, a tall boy with dark hair and big, serious eyes, patted her on the shoulder. “Better get back up there, sis. We’ll talk when your shindig’s over.”

“All right.” Patsy ran back on stage and took her place beside Orrie. The audience laughed and clapped.

The angel of the Lord darted a wide-eyed glance at Zillia.

She nodded and mouthed the words “Go on.”

The rest of the play went without a hitch, and ended with a rendition of “Oh Holy Night.” The song swelled over the congregation as everyone joined in, eyes closed and hands clasped before them.

Afterwards, Soonie rushed over and hugged Zillia. “You did a wonderful job! I might have to try a play at the reservation next year.”

Zillia frowned. “You mean you won’t be coming back next year?”

“No Zillia. We can’t risk the journey again. I want to be in a place where the man I love isn’t in constant danger, whether it be from bullets or misunderstanding.” She nodded to where Lone Warrior stood, drinking punch and talking with Wylder and Pastor Fowler. “Until we live in a world where people can see a man’s character at first glance, we must choose to stay where we’re safe.”

“Goodness, wouldn’t that be scary. I’m not sure anyone would be safe in that case,” said Zillia. “Don’t we all have hidden, ugly pieces of ourselves that must be turned over to God every day?”

Someone tugged on her sleeve, and she looked down to see Patsy’s soulful eyes. “Mrs. Eckhart, I want you to meet Aunt Mel.”

The brown-haired woman reached out a slightly plump hand for Zillia to shake. “I can’t thank you enough for taking care of my niece. My sister followed the Devil’s call when she decided to run off and leave her children. I had no idea where she’d taken this one, thought she’d dragged her off along with the baby. But then I found out about their grandma being sick—my sister’s first husband’s mother--and decided I’d come and pay my respects. And here’s our little Patsy!” she squeezed the girl’s shoulders, and Patsy beamed. “Of course, I’d like to take her home with me to live her brother and sister. My husband works with the railroad, so we can provide for them.”

“Of—of course.” A lump formed in Zillia’s throat. But the excitement shining from Patsy’s eyes was enough.
It’s where she belongs.
Smithville’s not far away.
“We’ll get your things to you as soon as possible, and your kitty, of course,” she promised Patsy.

“I brought my dolly with me.” Patsy pulled out Soonie’s doll from the recesses of her shepherd’s robe. She rushed forward and hugged Zillia. “Thank you for letting me stay with you.”

The little girl pulled away and ran over to Lone Warrior, who almost dropped his punch when she wrapped her arms around his waist. “And thank you, Mr. Lone Warrior. He saved my life, you know,” she said to Aunt Mel, who looked a bit alarmed.

“Oh, is that right?” Aunt Mel, eyed Lone Warrior, who had worn his braids down for the night and stood a head taller than every man in the room.

Wylder began to shoo children towards their parents, and the youngest ones began to nod off in the pews.

“It’s been a wonderful Christmas,” Zillia said to Soonie, as she wrapped Margo in a shawl for the ride home.