Read SNOW KISSED CHRISTMAS: Sweet Historical Romance Novella--Short Read Online
Authors: Bobby Hutchinson
Tags: #Sweet Historical Romance Novella
SNOW KISSED CHRISTMAS: Sweet Historical Romance Novella--Short Read (7 page)
It was late evening before he returned to the Ferguson farm, and by the time he ate the stew Annie had put aside for him and helped Noah with the chores, he was more than ready to bed down in the tidy room in the barn where he and his men had spent the previous night. Before he slept, he thought of the following day, when he’d ride with Betsy. He was very much looking forward to it.
On Monday morning, they left the Ferguson farm when only the faintest hint of dawn was showing in the eastern sky.
Annie had made them a substantial breakfast with Betsy’s help: oat porridge, bacon, eggs, fresh biscuits hot from the oven. The women talked as they worked, flashing signs rapidly in between chores.
James, who’d helped Noah with the morning chores, also offered the women his assistance. He was told firmly to sit down, drink his coffee, talk to Noah and keep out of their way. He gave Annie a snappy salute and did as he was told.
Before they ate, James saw Betsy have an animated discussion with Noah. Out of politeness James turned his back so he wouldn’t see the signs. He was fairly certain she was protesting the fact that he was riding back with her. Noah must have held his ground, because she made no further protest when, after breakfast, James and Noah brought both saddled horses from the barn.
Betsy was still pale, and he’d noticed her wince as she settled into the saddle. She had a fresh white bandage around her forehead, but she’d insisted on taking off the sling on her arm, saying that it felt much better. He’d wrapped her wrist again that morning, far too aware of the tender skin on the inside of her wrist, the way blue veins snaked under her fair skin, the long, tapering fingers with their short nails, the chemical stains from developing fluid on the palms of her hands. Being that close to her, he could also smell her fragrance, a mixture of the lemon scent of her hair, a hint of rose-scented soap and, underneath, an enticing musky odor that was purely Betsy.
He’d been sorry when the bandaging was done. He’d had the most inappropriate and overwhelming urge to take her in his arms.
She rode astride again this morning, but not in trousers. She was wearing a dark green dress with a voluminous skirt that allowed her to arrange the folds modestly, covering her legs. She favored her injured wrist, and although she’d assured him it wasn’t hurting much, he didn’t believe her. Nevertheless, she used it to loosely hold the reins so her good arm was free to sign.
“How did ye get interested in photography, Betsy?”
The ride ahead was long, and he wanted to take every opportunity for conversation. His signing was coming back, and his fingers were more nimble today. He was also getting better at reading the signs.
“Man came to the door when I was seventeen, asked Noah if he wanted photograph of family,” Betsy signed. “I never saw camera before, and when I saw photo, I thought it was magic. Something that didn’t need speech to explain, something beautiful that uses only eyes and light.”
Bonnie, as are you, lass, James thought. The light was still faint, outlining her profile against the dark sky. He rode close to her so he could see her signs.
“So ye decided then and there ye’d be a photographer?”
She gave him a quirky grin and shook her head. “Never thought possible for deaf girl like me. Then new teacher came to the school, woman teacher, Miss Pettigrew, she let me come to class and borrow books. Some about photography, and teacher say I can be photographer if I want hard enough.”
“Before ye were seventeen, ye didn’ae go to school?”
Betsy shook her head. “No time for school before Annie marry Noah. Sister and I work in factory in Toronto after our mother die.” She made a face. “Bad place, make me very sick, cough all the time.”
The thought of the two girls working in a factory made Noah shudder. He’d heard about the horrendous conditions, the numbers of children who died doing such work. There were many such places in England, and a few even in Scotland.
“And yer father?”
She screwed her face into a grimace and made the sign for drinking. “Not good man, take all our mother’s money for spirits. Died when I was five.”
“How old were ye when Annie married Noah?”
“Fourteen. Noah try, but schoolteacher back then wouldn’t let me go to his school, because I am deaf. But our mother already taught me to read and write when I am little, her father schoolteacher, and Noah’s father gave me books, Noah taught me mathematics. Then Miss Pettigrew teach me many things, and I raise baby calf to big steer, sold him and bought camera. Big camera.” She made a huge circle with her hand.
Noah laughed. “A steer for a camera, seems a good trade to me.”
“Me, too.”
Her saucy grin captivated him.
“And now I have small camera, Noah and Annie and children give me for my birthday.”
Her enthusiasm and excitement captivated him. Her face reflected every emotion her fingers spelled out.
“Love, love, love little camera. Can carry with me, easy to take photographs.” Her passion for photography was evident in every dramatic sign, every animated expression.
She’d looped the reins loosely around the saddle horn now, still using only her uninjured hand to sign. Jingles, well-trained animal that she was, didn’t miss a step.
James had to concentrate hard to keep up with the stream of signed words. His own signing, although improving, was still badly out of practice. He understood her easily, but sometimes she giggled when he got what he meant to say totally wrong, and several times he pretended to get it wrong just to hear that deep throated, light-hearted sound.
The horses, left to their own decisions, had agreed on a moderate walking pace, which meant the trip would take much longer than usual, and that suited James fine. This girl—this woman—intrigued and fascinated him. She was so intelligent, so assured in spite of her deafness. She was courageous, determined to make her own way in the world when the accepted course was usually marriage, children, home making.
They’d left at dawn, and for the first two hours it was comfortably cool. They had to make a wide detour around the area where the fire had been, which was also going to add several hours to the journey. The morning grew warmer as they rode.
The prairie was filled with sound: buzzing grasshoppers, singing birds, grass whispering in the breeze. James was aware as never before how much sound there was in his world, and how much silence there must be in hers. But he also noticed as never before the visual beauty, the waving grasses, the birds, an antelope that moved with fluid grace out of their way, the vast blue canopy of sky above them.
“Were ye always deaf, Betsy?” It was a very personal question, and he wondered if she’d take offense.
She shook her head. “Annie says when I was baby, I could hear. Two years old, I have high fever, then deaf.”
So no real memory of sound. He was thinking about that when she turned the tables on him.
If you loved this excerpt, Go
HERE
for the rest of
SILENT LIGHT, SILENT LOVE
And
HERE
for the first in the Western Prairie Bride series:
Mail Order Bride
A Western Prairie Brides Romance
Ever wondered what it might be like to be a mail order bride?
Or the groom, already married to a woman he’s never laid eyes on?
On the Canadian prairies in 1886, having a mail order romance wasn’t unusual. Noah Ferguson desperately needed help on his farm. Annie Tompkins knew she couldn’t go on working in Lazenby’s cotton mill.
˃˃˃ So she’d been a little less than honest in her letters, was that really so terrible?
It was unforgivable, Noah fumed. He’d wanted an older widow, and Annie was a young virgin. But even that wasn’t the full extent of her lies.
Problem is, Noah hasn’t exactly been straight with Annie, either, and his secret has the power to break Annie’s heart.
˃˃˃ Can even a special Christmas gift make their marriage work?
A novella by another writer I love to read:
MAIL ORDER BRIDE, CHRISTMAS BRIDE
by Terri Grace
One more tiny little favor—would you be generous and kind enough to leave me a review of SNOW KISSED CHRISTMAS on Amazon?
GO HERE
and I’d be forever grateful.
Other books by Bobby Hutchinson
WESTERN PRAIRIE BRIDES SERIES
ROSE’S MAIL ORDER BRIDES AND GROOMS
OTHER ROMANCES YOU’LL LOVE
TIME TRAVEL ROMANCE
Books in the Doctor 911 Series
About the Author
Bobby Hutchinson was born in Sparwood, a small town in interior British Columbia. Her father was an underground coalminer, her mother, a housewife, and both were storytellers. Learning to read was the most significant event in her early life.
Bobby married young and had three sons; the middle child was deaf, and he taught her patience. After twelve years, she divorced and worked at various odd jobs, directing traffic around construction sites; day caring challenged children; and selling fabric, by the pound, at a remnant store.
Following this, she mortgaged her house and bought the remnant store. Accompanied by her sewing machine, she began to sew one dress a day. The dresses sold, the fabric didn’t, so she hired four seamstresses and turned the old remnant store into a boutique.