A Western Christmas. Louise M. Gouge

she had the ability and desire to give.

      Ellie remembered what it was like to lose a mother, to experience that first holiday with the hole in the home left after her death.

      “I have a proposal,” she said when they arrived back at her house.

      “I was going to say the same.”

      They shared a smile and for that brief moment a spark of hope kindled to life deep within her.

      “You first,” he said. “Tell me what’s on your mind.”

      “Well. I was thinking.” She paused at the foot of the porch, gathering her thoughts. “Maybe I could—”

      The sound of pounding feet up the walk cut her off. She looked over her shoulder. “Brody? What’s wrong, what’s happened?”

      Before the words left her mouth, Caleb was spinning around to face the boy.

      “It’s my mama.” He skidded to a stop, slapped his hands on his knees and sucked in several gulping breaths of air. “She fell down and hit her head. There was lots of blood, but she made me promise not to get Doc. I helped her clean up as best I could. When she fell asleep I came here. Aunt Betsy is the only one who can convince Mama to let Doc inside the house.”

      “I’ll fetch your aunt for you.” Ellie rushed inside the house.

      After a brief explanation, Betsy and Ellie’s father grabbed their coats and hurried outside.

      Deciding the others accompanying Brody was enough, Ellie stayed behind with Caleb’s daughters. She did her best to keep Hannah and Grace occupied with a story. Their eyes drooped, a clear indication the excitement of the day was catching up with them.

      As Ellie directed them to join her on the couch, she lifted up a silent prayer for Brody and his mother. Lord, heal Clara Driscoll, bring her peace and freedom from pain, and give Brody the courage he’s going to need in the coming days.

      When the girls went from tired to cranky and started arguing over who got to hold the book, Ellie settled them on each end. Covering them with a blanket, she began singing a favorite lullaby from her childhood.

      Their eyes shut almost immediately. Just about the time their breathing evened out, Caleb reentered the house.

      One look at his face and Ellie knew Brody’s mother was in a bad way. She cocked her head toward the sleeping children, then motioned for Caleb to follow her into the dining room.

      As soon as the swinging door shut behind them, Ellie broke her silence. “How is Brody’s mother?”

      “Better than we feared. Doc didn’t appear too concerned over her injury.”

      “Good.” She breathed a sigh of relief. “That’s really good news.”

      “I left her with your father and her sister.” Shadows swirled in Caleb’s gaze, dark and worried. Wanting to offer comfort where she could, Ellie touched his arm.

      He blessed her with a slight smile.

      As a thought occurred to her, she slowly pulled her hand away. “Betsy will want to spend as much time with her sister as possible, day and night.”

      “Yes.” Caleb rubbed a hand over his eyes. “As she should.”

      “That leaves you in a bind.”

      He nodded. A pensive look shaded his face, but he said nothing more.

      “I’ll watch the children for you.” The offer came out of her mouth as natural as a breath.

      Caleb eyed her speculatively. “Actually, I had a more permanent solution in mind.”

      Her heartbeat slammed against her ribs. Hope rose. She shoved it back with a hard swallow. This wasn’t about her. It wasn’t the realization of a dream, or a fairy tale. It was real life and real people in need. A woman was dying, a fractured family in pain.

      “You’re a good influence on my daughters, Ellie. I trust you with them completely.”

      Ellie sought to still the pounding of her heart. There was no reason to feel alarm. So she’d caught Caleb watching her throughout the day, his brows knit together as if working out a puzzle, or sorting through the particulars of a plan.

      “You’re a steady woman, smart and capable. Easygoing, and not prone to outbursts or unnecessary drama.”

      Listening to Caleb describe her with such bland words, Ellie didn’t know whether to be flattered or insulted. Steady, capable, not prone to outbursts. Was she truly that boring?

      That forgettable?

      Did he think her lacking in the finer, feminine qualities of kindness, gentleness and, well, prettiness?

      “We’ve known each other for years.” He touched her cheek with such tenderness she thought she might cry. “I’ve always liked you, Ellie.”

      “I’ve always liked you, too, Caleb.”

      A broad range of memories swept across her mind, dragging her back to childhood when this man had been a boy, and she a young girl with stars in her eyes. He’d championed her on more than one occasion, such as the time when Everett had stuck her braid in an inkwell. It was Caleb who’d helped her wash out the black goo.

      Then, on the worst day of her life, when her mother had died, Caleb had been by Ellie’s side. He’d let her cry on his shoulder, had tenderly dried her cheeks with the pads of his thumbs.

      “...and that, Ellie, is why I’m asking you to marry me.”

      What? Had she heard him correctly? Had he just asked her to marry him, while she’d been skipping down memory lane?

      Surely she’d misunderstood.

      Untangling herself from the past, she forced herself to focus, to recall the precise words he’d uttered. One line came back to her. You’ll make the girls a good mother.

      There’d been no mention of love.

      “Well?” He touched her arm, looked at her expectantly. “What do you say?”

      “Could...could you repeat the question?”

      He smiled. “Ellie Wainwright,” he said in a low, soft, affectionate tone. “Will you marry me?”