Read The Brides of Chance Collection Online

Authors: Kelly Eileen Hake,Cathy Marie Hake,Tracey V. Bateman

Tags: #Fiction, #Christian, #Historical, #Romance

The Brides of Chance Collection (35 page)

BOOK: The Brides of Chance Collection
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“Are you saying I look like I want to be kissed?”

Swallowing hard, he nodded.

She closed her eyes and pressed closer, rising on her tiptoes. “Then kiss me, Titus. I want to be kissed by you.” Before he could shift back in alarm, she pressed his head down until their lips touched. He took hold of her arms and held her away from him.

Triumph gleamed in her eyes. “I know you must care for me, Titus. You’re my hero. You came after me.”

“When I heard you scream, I thought you were Alisa. I care for her.” Anger over her kiss caused the words to come out more sharply than he would have allowed under normal circumstances. “Please, Prissy. I don’t want to hurt you, but will you please get it through your head once and for all that I plan to marry Alisa?”

Her eyes narrowed dangerously. “I wish they had taken her like they intended all along. And good riddance.”

“What do you mean?”

“They wanted your precious Alisa. I came in at the wrong time, and they used me as a hostage to get away.”

She swept past him and headed back to the mercantile.

Titus followed her, rubbing his mouth with the back of his hand and hoping there were no traces of Prissy’s red lip rouge on his mouth. He had to resist the urge to toss her into the mud. Instead, he opened the door for her. One glance at Alisa’s stricken face melted his anger. As Mr. and Mrs. White rushed to their daughter, Titus opened his arms to Alisa. She walked toward him slowly, as though her legs had little strength, and allowed him to enfold her in an embrace. Her soft sigh told him all he needed to know about her feelings for him. She had been waiting for him to return, had been waiting for his arms.

Robert Worthington stared at Jonesy in surprise. Less than two weeks had passed since they’d made their arrangement, and here the boy was already in his office, holding an envelope in his hands.

“Well, give it to me,” Robert said.

“Not until you hand over three dollars and twenty-five cents.”

Robert reached into his pocket and gave him five. Jonesy’s eyes widened.

“Consider the rest a bonus.”

“Thank you.” Rather than leaving, he stood watching Robert.

“Well? What are you waiting for? Don’t you have to go home to supper or something?”

“I’m waiting for you to be finished so I can take the letter to Mrs. Perryman.”

Leveling a firm gaze at the boy, Robert fingered the envelope. “I just paid you five dollars for this letter. It’s mine now.”

The boy frowned. “She’s been worried sick about Alisa. If you think I’m going to give her letter away and let her think Alisa is hurt or dead or something like that, you’re crazy. I sold you the right to read it. Not keep it.” He tossed the five dollars back on the desk. “Forget the deal. Give me back the letter.”

“Now just hold on. I’ll read through the letter and perhaps I’ll allow you to take it.”

“Read it,” the kid said through clenched teeth. “Then hand it over.”

Without a reply, Robert glanced at the postmark. Reliable. He’d never heard of such a town, but it shouldn’t be very hard to locate. He slid his letter opener beneath the seal and quickly scanned the letter:

Dear Mrs. Perryman
,
Please forgive the amount of time that has gone by with no word from me
.
I am fine and staying with a wonderful family on their ranch. I have become a fugitive, unjustly accused of murder, and though I know the stamp on this letter will reveal my whereabouts, I couldn’t bear the thought of the holidays going by without wishing you and the children a Merry Christmas
.
I know you would never believe me capable of harming anyone, let alone my grandmother. That’s right, Mrs. Perryman. Mrs. Worthington revealed to me that she was my grandmother. Unfortunately, she died very suddenly, and I was accused of her death. I did not cause her death, of that I can assure you, but my father has accused me anyway. I suspect this is because my grandmother was set to give me an inheritance. If only she had lived. A relationship with her would have made me the richest woman alive
.
I have enclosed some money. It isn’t much, but I hope it will give the children a bit of a Christmas. Perhaps you can buy that goose this year. Annie whispered to me just before I left that she secretly longs for a new pair of pink ribbons like the ones her mother wore the night she died. Do you remember the white dress
I always longed for because the mother in my dreams always wore white? I can’t help but hope Annie will get her ribbons
.
I will try to write again soon
.
Kiss the children for me and ask them to pray for me, as I am praying for each one of you
.
All my love
,
Alisa Worthington

Robert folded the letter, tucked it back into the envelope, and stuffed the bills inside as well. After another cursory glance at the stamp on the front, he tossed the letter back on the desk. “Take it and go.”

He shifted his gaze to the window until he heard the door open. “Wait just a minute.”

“Yes, sir?”

Scowling, Robert pulled his wallet from his coat pocket and removed some bills. “Give this to Mrs. Perryman,” he said. “Tell her to buy the little girl some ribbons and Christmas presents for all of the children. And tell her to buy a goose for Christmas dinner.”

Jonesy’s face molded into a look of utter disbelief. “What are you trying to do?”

“Nothing. Can’t a man give a bunch of orphans a decent Christmas?”

The boy gave him a dubious look. He glanced at the bills in his hand and shrugged. “Whatever your reason, the children deserve a good Christmas. Mrs. Perryman will appreciate this.”

Averting his gaze to the desk, Robert gave a dismissive wave. “Close the door behind you.”

With a frustrated grunt, he sat back in his chair. The letter held not one clue as to where Alisa might be. It had, however, given him a clue into Alisa. She’d dreamed of her mother wearing white? Robert felt a tremor of guilt, then pushed it away with a short laugh. Perhaps her mother would have worn a white dress and married a good man if he hadn’t spotted her and lusted after her. Truth was, he couldn’t even remember her face. He could, however, remember his daughter’s heart-shaped visage. The image haunted him. Reaching into his drawer, he pulled out the sketch of Alisa. What if he’d never taken her away? What if he’d been a father to her as his father had been to him?

He raked his fingers through his hair and laughed at his sentimentality. “You’re a fool, Robert Worthington. An utter fool.”

Alisa peeked around through the window to make sure the girls weren’t inside the main house before she tapped on the door.

“Come in,” Miriam called. Her voice sounded strong, and Alisa smiled as she stepped inside. Miriam was just pulling a pie from the oven. The spicy, cinnamony aroma filled the cabin.

“Mmm. Smells heavenly.”

“Thank you. It’s apple.

“My favorite. You sound like you’re feeling better.”

“I am! Praise the Lord. I was beginning to think I might be sick for the rest of my life.”

Laughter bubbled from Alisa’s lips. Even at the orphanage, Christmas had been a time of joy and expectation. This year, despite her situation, her childlike optimism had returned within a week of the ordeal in Reliable, and it continued to permeate these days leading up to Christmas.

“Did you get them finished?” Miriam asked.

“I did.”

“You didn’t wrap them yet?”

Alisa grinned and shook her head. “I wanted to show them off first.”

“Let me put some water on for tea, and I’ll be right over.”

Miriam wiped her hands on a towel and came over to the table. Alisa pulled out the gifts she’d been working on for the past two weeks in her spare time. She’d had to use Miriam’s sewing kit, as she’d left her own back at the Worthingtons’ home.

The girls had been such good little helpers that Alisa had made them each an apron. Polly’s was made of red gingham, and Ginny Mae’s of blue gingham.

“Oh, how darling!” Miriam exclaimed, holding each item close to her heart. Her eyes filled with tears. “I can’t wait to begin sewing for the baby.”

“It’ll be such fun.”

Miriam folded the aprons carefully and set them back on the table. She moved to the stove and pulled the teapot from the fire. After pouring two cups, she brought them back to the table, then moved back to the kitchen shelves. She fumbled around for a moment, then produced some paper and string. “You can use this to wrap them. Their little faces are going to light up when they see those.”

“They’ll have quite a Christmas. Polly and Ginny Mae are going to adore the dresses you made them.”

“Yes. I only wish Hannah were here to see how special those two are.”

Alisa covered her hand. “She knows. I’m sure God allows mothers to look down from heaven and see the ones they left behind.”

Miriam gave a short laugh. “Then better for Daniel if he never remarries. Because Hannah would never stand for it.”

Despite the slight irreverence, Alisa laughed outright. Miriam joined her, and if for no other reason than to relieve the tension of the past few weeks, the two women laughed until tears streamed down their faces. Gideon and Titus entered the cabin to the howling.

“What’s this?” Gideon demanded, dropping an armload of wood into the bin.

“We were just talking about Hannah.”

“And that made you laugh?” Titus asked.

At the look of bewilderment on the two men’s faces, the women laughed even harder.

Still chuckling, Alisa rose. “I’d best put these under the tree and head back to my cabin.”

“I’ll walk you,” Titus said.

Alisa’s pulse quickened. “Thank you, Titus, but it isn’t necessary.”

“I’d say those two outlaws looking for you make it plenty necessary.”

Alisa finished tying the string around the packages and walked to the tree. “Honestly, Titus. It’s been more than two weeks since we’ve seen them. Do you really think they are still hanging around these parts?”

“I don’t know. But I’d rather not take any chances.”

“I agree with Titus,” Miriam said. “No sense risking it.”

“Oh, all right.” She took her coat from a peg by the door and shrugged into it. They stepped into the chilly night. Titus took her elbow to guide her. She gathered a slow breath of the crisp air. “I love Christmas,” she whispered.

“So do I. It seems like it makes the world fresh and new again. Like an innocent baby.”

“Like Jesus.”

“Yes.”

There was no need for them to say more. But Alisa couldn’t help but feel the wonder of sharing a love for Jesus with a fellow believer. She didn’t understand why her life had taken such a topsy-turvy turn, but God did. And even in the difficult times, He had taken care of her so far. She knew that nothing could separate her from His love. Christmas was a good reminder of that.

As though reading her thoughts, Titus gave her elbow a little squeeze. She smiled at him as they reached the door.

He stepped closer, and for an instant, it seemed as though he might kiss her. Alisa braced herself, unsure whether her heart would lead her head this time or not. A shrill scream tore through the air, taking the decision out of her hands.

She gasped. “That sounded like Polly.”

Titus sprinted toward Daniel’s cabin, with Alisa close on his heels.

He burst inside. Daniel held his trembling daughter in his arms. Fat tears rolled down Ginny Mae’s face as she sat on her bed. Alisa’s heart constricted, and she went to the child. She lifted her, cuddling the warm body close.

“What happened?” Titus demanded.

“Polly said she saw someone at the window.”

“A man. A big ugly man with a big hat.”

A knot thudded in the pit of Alisa’s stomach.

Titus stomped to the door and grabbed the lamp from the rail just outside. “I’ll be back. Stay put, Alisa.”

In a minute, Alisa noticed the lamp’s glow from the window. Then Titus came back. “Daniel, I’d like to talk to you on the porch.”

BOOK: The Brides of Chance Collection
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