Free Christmas Under Western Skies by Anna Schmidt Page A

“He was very rigid about such things.”
    â€œSounds like my father,” Nathan admitted. “Jake and I always said that if we were ever lucky enough to marry and have kids of our own, things would be different.”
    â€œYou’d make a wonderful father, Nathan.”
    It was a simple compliment, and yet the words warmed him as if he’d just downed a steaming cup of hot chocolate.
    â€œWonder if Jake’s a father yet,” he mused, embarrassed at the effect her words had had on him.
    â€œYou’ve had no word at all?”
    Nathan shook his head. “I keep hoping, and now that I’m to be in Homestead over the winter, I’ve sent out ads and letters to every community I can think of between here and California. It occurred to me that maybe he stopped along the way and stayed.”
    â€œHe could be closer than you imagine.” Julianne placed her gloved hand on his forearm. “You mustn’t give up hope.”
    But she had , Nathan thought. According to Glory, after her husband’s death she had locked her heart away.
    The jingle of the harness brought Nathan back to the present. The cabin was in sight, the afternoon sunglinting off the newly installed window panes, as a stream of smoke wafted from the chimney and seemed to signal “home” as it dissipated against the overcast sky.
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    In spite of her resolve not to become more involved with the man, Julianne could think of nothing but Nathan. As she did her morning chores a few days after the Christmas tree outing, she found herself remembering the snowball battle—how the children had shrieked with delight when Nathan had come up behind her and sprinkled snow over her head when she wasn’t looking. And how his eyes had sparkled as he gently brushed a melting flake away from her cheek.
    She leaned on the pitchfork she’d been using to spread fresh hay for Dusty, and gave her thoughts over to the tenderness of that moment. She even allowed her mind to wander into the dangerous territory of remembering how it had felt to be kissed by Nathan.
    â€œEnough,” she muttered and went back to work, slinging the hay with such energy that Dusty turned his head and gave her a quizzical look.
    â€œWell, it’s ridiculous,” she told the ox. “The very idea that he and I…”
    Dusty heaved a disgusted grunt and turned back to his water pail.
    â€œNevertheless, it’s true,” she argued. “I know so little about the man. Just because he served as a chaplain in the army and just because his sermons stir hearts and minds all around this community, and…”
    Dusty shifted impatiently.
    â€œI know exactly what this is,” she continued. “It’s this early onset of winter and facing weeks and months of isolation and loneliness. This has nothing to do with Nathan Cook, other than that he is a distraction.”
    Dusty pawed at the fresh hay, ignoring her.
    She set the pitchfork aside and trudged back to the house to check on the twins—both of them sick with a stomachache. After a long night of throwing up and moaning in pain, they had both finally fallen into a peaceful sleep. Julianne brushed Luke’s hair off his forehead, testing for fever with the back of her hand pressed gently against his cheek. Then she did the same with Laura. Both of them seemed much improved, and she breathed a sigh of relief.
    Wanting to let the children sleep, she went back outside. The day was crisp with a bright blue sky and, for once, no wind to chill her to the bone. She walked over to the grove of bur oak trees, gathering sticks and branches that had snapped off. When she heard a harness jingle, she looked up and saw Nathan and Glory coming over the ridge.
    Her heart danced with joy at the sight of them—at the sight of him . She waved and saw Glory instruct Nathan to leave the trail and head across to the oak trees.
    â€œSam was at the schoolhouse stoking the