Golden Dawn Page 12

  “Off with you, then.” Clemment made a shooing motion.

  Once he shut the door, Tucker stared at Meredith. “He’s not right in the head. Ian and I discussed writing to his family. Do you know if he has any?”

  “A brother. I have the address.”

  “Good. You don’t come here alone. Ever.”

  “You don’t want me to get out at all.” She sighed. “Honestly, Tucker, I—”

  “You’re going to listen to me. Clemment was as ordinary as anyone we knew when he first got here. Being here has made him go crazy. You can’t trust him for one minute. And like it or not, we’re not going to stay with Ian during blizzards. There’s no telling if his mind will snap, too.”

  ❧

  “A Christmas tree?”

  Ian nodded. He could tell how important it was to Meredith. She’d popped out of his cabin, eyes wide with anticipation. “Aye, lass, if you’re wanting one, we can do that.”

  Merry’s face lit with glee. “Oh, I do want one!”

  “Fine, then. Let me set these inside.” He opened the door to his cabin and put down a brace of snow hare he’d snared. Leaving them outside would invite predators.

  “Do you want pasties with those, or roast?”

  Ian shrugged. “Whatever pleases you.”

  “I’ll let you decide while we choose a tree. I’ve already crocheted little snowflakes, and we can string cranberries.”

  “I’m far more liable to eat those cranberries than to string them up.”

  “You may eat popping corn instead. I don’t think we need a big tree. Something about. . .this high.”

  “Come walk with me. You can choose whichever one you fancy.” He’d far rather walk with her alone, but Ian knew Tucker wasn’t about to put up with that notion. Instead, he called over, “Tucker! Merry wants a Christmas tree. Why don’t you come along and help us find one?”

  “There’s no room.”

  Merry smiled. “We can share the one Ian puts in his cabin.”

  “There’s a grand notion.” Ian slid her hand into the crook of his arm.

  Tucker rested his hands on his hips. “We don’t need a tree.”

  “You’re grouchy as a bear.” Meredith reached up to pull the hood of her cloak up because it had started to slip.

  “I’m not grouchy. I’m hungry.”

  “Then dress the hare. Ian and I won’t take long. Then I’ll fry the rabbits, just the way you like them.”

  Ian steered her off to one side. “I need to fetch my hatchet.” He claimed it from just inside the smokehouse. “Now what kind of tree did you have in mind?”

  “Pretty. And green and fragrant.”

  “Any particular variety?”

  She hitched her shoulder. “I’ll know it when I see it.”

  They tromped through the snow. Merry made a point of having them walk entirely around each tree so she could make sure it was shaped well and full. Just to prolong their time together, Ian started pointing out flaws.

  “You think this one’s lopsided?” Merry tilted her head to the side.

  “Look at the top. See how the sprigs are veering off?”

  “Now that you mention it, they do.” She headed toward another one. “The top is pretty on this. I know the bottom has a bald spot, but can’t we just chop off the top?”

  Ian shook his head. “If we take the tree’s life, ’tis only fair the whole of it is used.”

  Finally they found one that didn’t quite reach Meredith’s waist. “Oh, it’s perfect! Look at it—all around, it’s full and green.”

  Ian had to agree. “It’s a beauty. Is this the one you want?”

  “Oh yes!”

  The crisp air rang with the sound of the ax as he chopped down the little pine. Much to his regret, he still needed to carry the ax and drag the tree, so he couldn’t hold Merry’s hand.

  Bubbling over with enthusiasm, Merry cupped her hands to her mouth and called, “Tucker, we found it!”

  “It’s about time,” he hollered back. “It’s getting dark, and I’m half starved.”

  As they drew nearer to the cabin, Merry’s footsteps dragged. Ian figured out what the issue was. “Merry, I’m going to stop a few minutes so I can level off the bottom of the tree. Do you mind standing back a little ways? I don’t want any chips to fly up and hit you.”

  “Okay.”

  A minute later, Tucker stomped over. “What have you done with my sister?”

  “Shh.” Ian jutted his jaw toward the outhouse. He raised his voice. “You have to agree, this is a dandy little tree.”

  “Then my sister picked it out.”

  “That she did.”

  “I knew it. You can’t sing worth a plug nickel. You can’t cook. It was a safe bet you can’t find a tree without help.”

  Meredith reappeared. “You boys behave yourselves.”

  “Speaking of behaving, I’m going to go check in on Mr. Clemment tomorrow.” Ian hastily tacked on, “Alone. He’s getting worse by the day. Mr. Clemment probably isn’t dangerous, but we’re taking no chances.”

  “We agree.” Tucker’s words about knocked Ian out of his boots. “Either of us men can stomp over and make sure he’s alive. You’re not getting near him.”

  Lord, are we making progress? Is Tucker finally seeing things in a better light?

  ❧

  Meredith could scarcely stand waiting until Christmas supper was over. She’d made gifts for Ian and Tucker—even going so far as to hide them each in sugar sacks so the men wouldn’t know what they were. They’d be so surprised!

  “Ladies first this time.” Tucker went into Ian’s other room and came out with a length of wool.

  “Tucker! It’s beautiful!” She smoothed her hand over the blue, gold, and beige plaid. “So soft and warm.”

  “Thought you could make a skirt for yourself.”

  “And it’ll give me something to keep me busy. Oh, thank you!” She smiled. “You even chose colors that match my shirtwaists.” Tucker and Ian exchanged a look, and she burst out laughing. “Even if you didn’t do it on purpose, it worked out perfectly.”

  Ian went over and pulled a crate from behind the tree. The strings of popcorn and cranberries danced on the fragrant green needles. “Let’s see what we have in here.” He lifted the lid.

  “Dessert.” He lifted out a tin plate.

  “Fudge,” Merry breathed softly.

  Ian chuckled. “Braden’s wife and Fiona love Ma’s fudge. I’m not certain how Ma managed to sneak any off to us, but here it is.”

  “The spices and the pink flour sacks and now the fudge—your mother’s thoughtfulness. . .” Merry’s voice died out as tears prickled behind her eyes.

  “Ma’s a grand woman. Proverbs 31 says a godly woman’s children will rise up and call her blessed. ’Tis easy indeed for me to sing her praises.”

  Tucker groaned. “Speak them; don’t sing them.”

  Ian chuckled and drew out a handful of pure white candy canes. He hung them on the tree. “We’ll save these for another day.”

  Next he drew out a tin box. “This is from Ma and the girls, for Merry.”

  Merry blinked in surprise. “But I—”

  “ ’Tis in keeping with a Rafferty tradition. Each Christmas, everyone receives something practical and something impractical. You’d not want to ruin my Christmas by objecting, would you?”

  Merry accepted the tin. “Thank you.” She smiled at the beautifully painted scene on the lid. “This is so charming!”

  “Did I tell you what Sis did with the paper wrapper on that soap?” Tucker didn’t pause. “She flattened it out and has it pinned to the wall by her bed.”

  “Did you, now?”

  “It’s pretty, and so is this.” Merry bowed her head and opened the tin and gasped. “Embroidery floss!”

  “Doesn’t sound all that practical to me,” Tucker groused.

  “The colors are beautiful.” Merry couldn’t figure out why Tucker had to be so moody—especi
ally on Christmas.

  Bless him, Ian laughed off Tucker’s grumpiness. “Lift the paper, lass.”

  Meredith gently pushed aside the floss and discovered a sheet of paper. A paper of pins, a package of needles, four spools of thread, and dozens of buttons lay below. “I can truly use these. Thank you, Ian.” She closed the tin and traced the lid again.

  “These are for you, too, Merry.” Ian held something out to her.

  She looked up. “Skates?” She’d seen pictures of ice skaters, but she’d never actually seen skates.

  “With the river frozen, I thought we’d have a lot of fun skating over it.” Ian grinned at her. “The surface of the ice is surprisingly smooth.”

  “It does sound like a lot of fun. Thank you!” She accepted the skates and ran her fingers over the white leather shoe portion. “How did you know what size?”

  “He asked me.” Tucker’s mouth twisted wryly. “It took me three times to check on your old shoes. You kept waking up or turning over.”

  “I never make things easy on you, do I?”

  “Nope.”

  She beamed at them. “The two of you are incredible. These skates and the material—you’ve been so thoughtful. I’ll remember this Christmas forever!”

  Ian returned to the crate and pulled out a brown paper parcel. “Tucker, this is yours.”

  Tucker tore off the paper. “Netting!” As the netting spilled across Tucker’s lap, a thin leather folder fell into view. He opened it. “Hooks and lures. Rafferty, you made a huge mistake. I’m going to ache to fish, not prospect.”

  “You’ve brought in many a tasty meal. I’m not complaining about your fishing.” Ian reached into the crate yet again. “Tucker, this is for you.”

  Something jumbled and tumbled inside as Tucker accepted it. “Sounds like a rattler.”

  “I’ve never eaten one, but I understand they’re edible.” Ian tilted his head toward Merry. “I have no doubt that Merry would make it taste fine.”

  “I wouldn’t get near one of those things!”

  Tucker lifted the lid.

  When he didn’t say anything, Merry leaned forward and peeked. “Chess pieces!”

  “Do you play?” Ian asked.

  “It’s been a long time.”

  Merry dipped her head and ran her forefinger over the metal blade of one of the skates. She didn’t want to let out Tucker’s secret. He loved to play chess—almost as much as he loved to trick someone into thinking he was a novice. He never wagered on a game. For him, it was a challenge to see how long it took his opponent to realize Tucker knew what he was doing.

  Ian said, “We’ll have to play a game sometime.”

  “Sure.” Tucker managed to sound offhanded.

  To keep from giggling, Merry went to the tree and opened a burlap bag she’d tucked beneath the boughs. She pulled out the smaller sugar sacks and gave each man his. Since Tucker had just opened a gift, Ian went first. He unfurled the blue hat and scarf she’d made for him. He whistled under his breath. “My ears and nose are about to freeze off. This is great! I like blue, too.”

  “The color of your eyes.” As soon as she spoke the words, Meredith realized they probably sounded coy. Embarrassment washed over her. “And—and that nice wool shirt your mother sent.”

  “ ’Tis true.” Ian didn’t seem the least bit offended. “And the fabric for your skirt that Tucker gave you—the golden stripe in it matches the centers of your eyes.” He turned his attention on her twin. “Tucker, what have you there?”

  Tucker gave her a funny look. All her life, Merry had been able to read his expressions. Recently, it hadn’t always been easy, and on occasion, it was impossible. He opened his sack and drew out a brown hat and scarf. “Real nice, Sis. Thanks.”

  She smiled and motioned toward the door. Tucker walked over, opened the door a mere crack, and pulled in the gift he’d made for Ian. “These are for you, Rafferty.”

  “Snowshoes! I’ve been needing a pair something fierce.”

  “Yup.” Tucker handed them over. “I’ve gotten cold just watching you wallow in the snow.”

  “Merry’s scarf and hat will keep me warm whilst I learn to walk in these. I’ve no doubt I’ll trip over my own shoes and tumble many a time until I get as good as the both of you are.”

  “You’ll be faster than Sis. She dawdles.”

  “If you wore skirts”—Merry shook her finger at her brother—“you’d be slower, too.”

  Ian elbowed Tucker. “You? In a skirt?” He threw back his head and laughed.

  “She meant both of us. Didn’t you?” Tucker gave her his agree-with-me look.

  Merry pretended to sigh. “Actually, either of you would trip on the hems and break your neck if you had to wear all of these layers. Perhaps what I ought to do is use that wool to make myself trousers.”

  “Over my dead body!” Tucker roared.

  “If you were dead, she’d just wear your britches.” Ian folded his arms across his chest and surveyed Tucker. “She’d have to hem them up to the knees and take them in a ways, but Merry’s a clever lass. She’d wind up with a brand-new skirt and a couple pair of britches to boot!”

  “If anything ever happens to me, you’re to put Merry on the next ship out. Uncle Darian lives in Seattle. Give me your word on that right now, Rafferty.”

  “Enough of that talk! You’re too ornery for anything to happen to you.” Meredith rested her hands on her hips. “And how dare you try to send me to Uncle Darian?”

  “He could buy you anything your heart desires.”

  Scowling at her brother, Meredith demanded, “What kind of woman do you think I am? The things that matter to me can’t be bought.”

  The cabin fell silent.

  Seventeen

  Ian clapped his hands and rubbed them together. “Well, most things that matter cannot be bought. Merry?” He gestured toward the crate.

  Excitement replaced her irritation. Meredith half ran to the tree, stooped beside the crate, and rose. “We’ve saved the best for last. Here, Tucker.”

  His jaw dropped as she pressed a new Bible into his hands. He cleared his throat, then cleared it again. Emotions flashed across his features. “How?” he rasped.

  She’d anticipated his worrying about the cost and had a ready answer. “Ian offered to have his mother shop for me. Things are economical in Oregon, and keeping the secret from you has been fun.”

  Ian slapped Tucker on the back. “A Bible—now you can’t get a more essential gift than that.”

  “And Ian gave you the chess pieces, so he upheld the Rafferty Christmas tradition—though I have to say, I think having you play chess is practical for me. You’ll be too busy with the game to try juggling rocks. I’d rather spend time stitching a sampler than dodging stones.”

  Tucker held fast to the Bible and cracked a smile.

  “While he pores over that,” Ian said, “why don’t you and I go skate?”

  “You have skates?”

  He smiled. “My dad sent them to me. They’re my impractical gift.”

  Within minutes, Ian had set several lamps on the bridge. The bridge always floated just a few feet off the water. Meredith looked at the sight and smiled. “It’s hard to remember the bridge is frozen in place. The way the lanterns glow on it makes it look like a shooting star.”

  “I’d not thought of it that way, but you’re right. I noticed instead how they set everything to sparkling—especially your eyes.”

  Meredith’s heart skipped a beat. Could he be feeling more for me than just brotherly love?

  He chuckled. “Don’t be so surprised, Merry. You’re a comely lass.” He started lacing on his skates. “Fiona always complains ’tis hard to get her skates on tight enough once she’s bundled in layers to skate. Braden or I help her. Would you care for some help?”

  “Why, yes. Yes, please. Thank you.” Meredith couldn’t figure him out. He’d complimented her, then compared her to his sister. What did that mean?

  A
few minutes later, he took her hand in his and helped her step onto the ice. “Ready?”

  “I’m not sure. How do I balance on these?”

  He gave her an astonished look. “Haven’t you ever skated?”

  Meredith shook her head.

  “You’ll do fine. You’re always so graceful; it won’t be hard at all. Wait here a second and watch my feet. You don’t step. Simply glide one foot a little from the front to the side, then the other.”

  He slid across the ice. “One foot, then the other.”

  “You make it look easy.”

  “It is. Here. Hold on to my arm.”

  Meredith scooted off the bridge and on to her feet. As Ian threaded her hand through the crook of her arm, her legs started to wobble and her feet started to slide. “Oh no!”

  “It’s okay. I have you.”

  She clung to him for dear life.

  “See? You’re doing fine. You’re staying upright.”

  But for how long? She didn’t ask.

  “Standing is hardest.”

  “If I can’t stand, how can I move? I–I. . .whoa!”

  “Here.” He transferred her right hand into his right hand and wrapped his left arm about her waist. “How’s this?”

  Wonderful. Just as quickly as that reply flashed through her mind, Meredith felt her left foot betray her. “I’m like a newborn foal. All wobbly and awkward.”

  “Not for long.”

  “Ian?” She held to him in desperation. “If I fall, you’ll fall.”

  “So what? I’ve fallen hundreds of times.”

  She jerked away. “That’s hardly reassur—ah! Ah! Ohhh!” Her shriek echoed in the air as she tumbled.

  Ian sat beside her on the ice. “Not half as bad as you feared, was it?”

  “Twice as bad,” she whispered.

  “Are you hurt, honey?”

  Honey. He called me “honey.” Warmth rushed through her.

  “Merry.” He tilted her face up toward his. “Are you hurt?”

  She blinked, then ducked her head. “No. Just embarrassed.”

  His finger tickled her cheek. “It’s only me. You don’t have a thing to be embarrassed over.” He stood and helped her up. “It gets cold down there, doesn’t it?”