December 25, 1884
Carter Ranch, near Copper Hollow, Montana Territory

“Gus has cut six points,” Posy said. “A star ought to have five.”

Millie looked across the orphanage table, where Gus held up his paper star for inspection. One point was longer than the others, and another had suffered from a generous application of paste.

“It’ll hang just as well with six,” she said.

“But mine’s better.”

“Yours has a hole.”

“That’s where the string goes.”

Nathaniel put down his scissors and reached for both stars. “We can hang ’em together. Then nobody has to pick.”

Gus considered that before surrendering his decoration, though Posy kept hold of hers until Nathaniel promised they would hang at the same height.

Millie passed him the string. A year ago, he would have waited for her to settle the disagreement. Now he pulled his chair closer to the twins and began explaining how they could fasten the stars to the window.

“Not over Cookie,” Cora warned from the kitchen doorway. “Last time you hung paper above him, he pulled the whole string down.”

Cookie slept on the cushioned chair beside the stove, his yellow tail curled over his nose. He had ignored every attempt to move him that morning.

“He likes Christmas,” Gus said.

“He likes that chair.” Cora set a tray beyond their reach. “And you like my gingerbread. Leave it alone till it’s cooled.”

Nathaniel glanced at the tray, then at Millie.

“Ask her,” she told him.

“Could we have the broken pieces, please?”

Cora surveyed the unbroken gingerbread. “I expect there might be an accident or two when I lift it.”

The children returned to their decorations with renewed industry. Millie gathered the scraps into a basket, leaving Nathaniel and the twins to their string. His voice rose among theirs, clear enough that she could hear him correcting Gus’s knot.

She still treasured the sound, but these days she could listen without waiting anxiously for the next word. It had been months since a frightened cry had brought her to his bedside, though she still looked in on him before going to sleep herself.

By the time the stars were hung, there were crumbs on every plate. Hattie gathered the children around her for a story while Millie helped Cora clear the table. From the doorway she watched Nathaniel settle between Posy and Gus, all three of them leaning forward to see the picture Hattie held up.

The afternoon passed in stories, dinner, and the hunt for missing mittens. As the light began to fade, the door opened and Jeff stepped inside with their daughter tucked securely against his shoulder. His sheriff’s star caught the lamplight as he shut out the cold and loosened the blanket around her face.

Millie was growing accustomed to seeing it there. He had been sworn in after Pratt retired earlier that year, though he still sought the older man’s advice.

“Red’s brought the sleighs around,” Jeff said. “If we mean to see that tree lit, we’d best start puttin’ coats on.”

Millie crossed to him and looked down at the sleeping baby.

“Has she let you get anythin’ done?”

“Plenty. I walked the parlor, then I walked it again.”

She smiled as he placed the little bundle in her arms. “You could’ve brought her over sooner.”

“She was comfortable.”

“So were you, I suspect.”

Jeff brushed a finger over their daughter’s cheek. “I wasn’t complainin’.”

Nathaniel came to show him the stars, and Jeff lifted him briefly for a better view of the window.

“I tied ’em myself,” Nathaniel said.

“I can see that.”

Millie watched the boy point out each knot, then bent her head to kiss the baby’s soft cap.

Prudence caught Millie’s sleeve while Hattie supervised the coats.

“Come here before they carry us off.”

She sat near the stove with her cane resting against her knee. Millie brought a chair close, careful not to disturb the baby.

“Are you warm enough, Aunt Pru? I can fetch your other shawl.”

“I’ve more wool on me than any sheep in this valley.” Prudence took a folded paper from beside her. “This is what I want you to look at.”

Millie accepted it with her free hand. “Is there a bill we’ve missed?”

“No bill.”

Prudence steadied the baby while Millie unfolded the paper. She recognized the description of the ranch land before she understood the rest. Her gaze moved down the page, then returned to the name written there.

Millie Lawson.

“Aunt Pru?”

“The ranch,” Prudence said. “The house, the cabins, the land the orphanage stands on. It’s yours. The deed’s been signed and recorded.”

Millie stared at her. “You can’t mean all of it.”

“I generally know what I mean.”

“But your home—”

“Will remain my home. Unless you’ve grown tired of my company.”

Millie shook her head. “You know I haven’t.”

“Then don’t look as though I’ve announced my departure.”

Millie read the paper again, blinking when the words blurred. She had signed her own name at her wedding and heard it spoken openly ever since, but seeing it here carried a weight she hadn’t expected.

She looked toward the window, beyond which lay the barn, the cabins, and the ranch house where her daughter would grow up.

“You should’ve told me what you were doin’.”

“And spent Christmas listenin’ to you argue?” Pru waved a hand. “I preferred to have it settled.”

Millie gave a watery laugh. “There’s a great deal to look after.”

“You’ve been lookin’ after it.”

“With your help.”

Prudence laid her hand over Millie’s. “And you’ll still have that. I’m not surrenderin’ my chair or my opinions.”

Millie folded the deed carefully before leaning close enough to embrace her. The baby stirred between them, and Prudence touched the small fist that had escaped its blanket.

“I love you,” Millie whispered.

“I know you do.” Her aunt’s hand rested against her cheek. “I should’ve said it more often when you were little. I’m sayin’ it now.”

Millie stayed beside her until she could trust her voice. When Jeff came looking for them, she held out the paper.

He read it standing by her chair, his expression growing quiet.

“Well,” he said, looking at Prudence. “You’ve managed to surprise her.”

“She’s been tryin’ to talk me out of it.”

Jeff handed the deed back and crouched beside Millie. “Are you pleased?”

She nodded, then looked at her aunt. “Very. I’m only tryin’ to take it in.”

His hand closed warmly over hers. He waited while she folded the paper, and when she leaned toward him, he kissed her temple.

Everett appeared in the doorway with Prudence’s heavier wrap over his arm.

“Am I interruptin’?”

“You might as well join us,” Prudence said. “Apparently I’ve upset the household.”

Everett listened as Millie explained, then smiled at her.

“I’m glad,” he said. “And since we’re speakin’ of the place, there’s another matter I’d like to discuss.”

Prudence studied him. “What matter?”

“The buildin’.”

Millie glanced around the common room. They had moved the table twice that morning to make room for the children’s chairs.

“I know we’re crowded,” she said.

“You’ve made a good home here. I’d like to help you make room for more children.”

Everett drew the spare chair closer rather than speaking down to Prudence.

“I’ve been considerin’ it for some time. A larger building, properly planned, with sleepin’ rooms enough that you needn’t turn children away for want of a bed. I’d pay for the construction.”

Millie looked at Jeff, who had gone as still as she had.

“That would be a considerable expense,” he said.

“Yes.”

“The buildin’s only the beginnin’,” Prudence warned. “Children require feedin’ after you’ve put a roof over them.”

“I understand. We would need to provide for that too.”

Millie found her voice. “Everett, you already do so much.”

He looked toward the doorway, where Nathaniel was trying to persuade Gus to wear his scarf.

“For years I could buy almost anything except what I wanted.” He paused before continuing. “You brought my son home. I can’t repay that, and I wouldn’t insult you by tryin’. But I can help this place keep doin’ its work.”

Prudence reached for his hand.

“We’ll talk properly after Christmas,” she said. “With figures.”

“I expected nothin’ less,” Everett said with a smile.

Jeff put his arm around Millie as she thanked Everett. She rested against him, the deed beneath her hand and their daughter asleep between them, while Prudence began asking questions about builders.

*

Copper Hollow’s square was already crowded when they arrived. Red helped Prudence from the sleigh and escorted her to a sheltered chair near the inn, while Cora and Hattie helped the children down from the second sleigh. Hattie counted all eight before allowing them to join the others around the tree.

Millie remained seated with Nathaniel beside her until Jeff came around.

“I can take her,” he said, reaching for the baby.

“You’ve carried her half the day.”

“And you carried her considerably longer.”

She passed him their daughter so she could climb down. He waited while she tucked the blanket more securely beneath the baby’s chin, then offered his free arm.

Fresh greenery surrounded the square, and the tree rose above them with ribbons threaded among its branches. Men were making the last preparations for the lighting while townspeople exchanged greetings beneath it.

Nathaniel found Everett near Prudence’s chair and hurried over to tell him about the stars. His father bent to listen, then took the boy’s hand as they went to examine the decorations.

“He’s been savin’ that account for him,” Jeff said.

“He told me Everett would want to know how the knots were done.”

“He probably will.”

Millie smiled. Everett never hurried Nathaniel through an explanation, even when the subject was a length of string.

Nearby, Red was fastening Hattie’s coat.

“I can manage the buttons,” she told him.

He stepped back, grinning, and she caught his hand before he could put it in his pocket. The ring on her finger flashed as she drew him closer.

Millie exchanged a look with Jeff.

“He’s goin’ to be unbearable when the baby comes,” she murmured.

“Likely.”

“You needn’t sound so pleased,” Millie teased.

“I’m lookin’ forward to givin’ him advice. Especially on how to walk the parlor.”

She laughed, and Jeff watched her with the familiar warmth that still made her want to move closer to him.

Pratt found them while Cora distributed sweets to the children. Retirement had done little to alter his habit of surveying a crowd before settling into conversation.

“Millie,” he said, removing his hat. “Have you heard the latest about Lyle?”

Jeff’s arm remained steady beneath her hand.

“No.”

“He’s served his sentence. Word is he’s taken work and means to keep it.”

Millie looked toward the tree. She could remember Lyle standing in the orphanage doorway, smiling while she welcomed him.

“I hope he does,” she said at last.

Pratt nodded. “His evidence helped put the others away. Rawlins won’t be comin’ out again, and Silas and Tolliver’s men have answered for their part.”

“Thank you for tellin’ me.”

He moved on to greet Prudence, leaving Millie quiet beside Jeff.

After a moment, he asked, “Would you rather go inside?”

“No. I want to stay for the lightin’.”

“Then we’ll take her into the inn afterward. Cora’s already arranged a warm corner for your aunt.”

Millie squeezed his arm. She was grateful that he didn’t ask her to say more about Lyle as she watched Nathaniel return with Everett.

“Papa says they’re nearly ready.”

Everett stopped beside them, his hand resting lightly on his son’s shoulder. Nathaniel leaned against Millie while Jeff shifted the sleeping baby higher.

Across the square, a call went up for everyone to stand clear. The children hushed as the first candles were lit, their faces lifting toward the branches.

Millie watched the light spread, then turned to Jeff. He was looking at their daughter.

“What is it?” she asked.

“I was thinkin’ how much I’d have missed if that train had got through.”

“You’d have found another way to trouble us, I’m sure,” Millie said.

“I hope so.”

She slipped her hand beneath his coat sleeve, where she could feel the warmth of his wrist.

“You’d have been welcome.”

Jeff looked at her. “I used to think Christmas only took from a man. Now I find myself lookin’ forward to it before the snow comes.”

“Wait till she’s old enough to reach Cora’s gingerbread.”

“I’ll teach her to ask for the broken pieces.”

Millie laughed as he bent to kiss her, careful of their daughter between them. Nathaniel pressed closer to see past the people in front, and she drew him to her side.

Behind her, Prudence called for Everett to sit down before he blocked her view. Cora was sharing sweets, and Hattie had both hands around Red’s arm.

Millie kept hold of Jeff’s sleeve as the carol began. Tomorrow there would be children to feed, a baby to settle, and plans to make for the land her aunt had given her.

Tonight she stood with her family beneath the Christmas tree, singing in her own voice.

 

THE END