The Mothers of Sweet Cheyenne: A Sweet Cheyenne Short Story Collection (The Sweet Cheyenne Quartet Book 6) Read online

  The Mothers of Sweet Cheyenne

  A Sweet Cheyenne Quartet Short Story Collection

  Other works by Caroline Lee

  The Sweet Cheyenne Quartet

  A Cheyenne Christmas

  A Cheyenne Celebration

  A Cheyenne Thanksgiving

  A Cheyenne Christmas Homecoming

  Where They Belong: A Sweet Cheyenne Christmas Story

  The Mothers of Sweet Cheyenne: A short story collection

  Everland Ever After

  Click the image to be taken to a listing of all the Everland books!

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  Copyright © 2016, Caroline Lee

  [email protected]

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author.

  First edition: 2016

  This work is made available in e-book format by Amazon Kindle at www.amazon.com

  And in paperback format by CreateSpace at www.createspace.com

  Cover copyright Caroline Lee

  Dedication:

  For the mothers, and those who ache to become mothers.

  Christmas Wishes

  December, 1879

  “I don’t wanna go!”

  Molly exchanged exasperated glances with her husband. Ash’s winter beard was back in place, but she could see the faint flash of white as he smiled at their oldest son’s antics. Antics, indeed. Since Peter had turned two years old earlier this year, Molly was just about at her wit’s end with his stubbornness, defiance, and all-around rotten attitude about following directions. She’d often thought that, were it not for his bouts of downright adorableness as he snuggled on her lap, she would’ve returned him for a full refund.

  Unfortunately, none of that adorableness was in evidence now.

  She glared at her husband, irritated by the way he found this amusing, and went back to dressing the baby warmly. His faint chuckle told her that he understood she was turning this mess over to him, and didn’t mind. From the corner of her eye she watched him squat down on his haunches in front of their dark-haired little boy, who was sitting cross-legged in front of the fire, his hands tucked grumpily in his armpits and a big pout on his face.

  “You don’t want to go pick out a Christmas tree, Petey?”

  “No! Don’t call me that!”

  “Alright, Pete. Remember how your Uncle Nate told you all about picking out a tree? We all went last year, but you might not remember. We get all bundled up and climb in the sleigh and we pick out a tree from the picnic spot by the Selkirks’ ranch. Nate and I chop it down, but if you want you could help this year.”

  Molly narrowed her eyes as she tried to force a flailing leg into the bunting Wendy had helped her make when Peter was a baby. Letting a child think he could help cut down a tree? If she didn’t trust Ash implicitly, and know that he was a careful and loving father, she’d jump in and object. As it was…

  “I can use da ax?”

  The offer had apparently drawn Peter out of his grump. Ash chuckled again, and a small smile flashed across Molly’s face as she remembered how somber he’d been when she’d met him. “Well, how about you help me with the ax? I’ll let you hold it too, when we take the first chops.”

  “Choppin’ down da Christmas tree?”

  “Yeah, kiddo. But then you’ve gotta let me and Uncle Nate chop it all the way down, okay?”

  “Scooter can come too?”

  Ash glanced at Molly, and her heart clenched a little. A month ago, Peter had started talking about—and to—his “friend” Scooter… who was completely imaginary. He seemed so young to have made that up a friend, but to Molly, it was a sign of how lonely her oldest son really was. He needed a playmate, and that was one of the reasons Noah had been born. Well, that, and the fact that Ash still couldn’t keep his hands off her, even after four years of marriage. Molly blushed slightly at the thought and hoped that her husband didn’t wonder at it.

  Ash must’ve turned back to Peter. With a sigh, he agreed. “Alright, Scooter can come too.” They’d discussed this “friend,” and decided against trying to convince Peter that he wasn’t real. For now, at least. “But he doesn’t get to use the ax.”

  Peter’s little brows—so like his father’s!—drew in as he contemplated. “Okay. I do da first chops, right?”

  “Right. Together.” Ash, held out his hand, and Peter accepted his help in rising. Ash kept up a steady chatter about ax safety and Christmas planning while he helped his older son into his heavy winter coat, and then took the boy out to the barn to help Annie and Nate hook up the horses. Molly sighed a bit when they left the house, able to focus her attention on little Noah, who wasn’t thrilled about the outing.

  Wendy climbed down the steps from the loft. “Ash got him to agree to it?”

  This time Molly’s sigh was audible. “I swear, I’m at my wit’s end with that child.”

  “Good thing Ash is here to help, then.”

  Molly snorted her agreement, and then handed the bundled baby to her younger sister while she pulled her cape on. While she tied it securely, she watched Wendy cradling Noah. “And I’m glad that I have you to help me, too, Wendy. You have the magic touch with babies.”

  Was that a hint of wistfulness in the dark blue eyes behind her sister’s spectacles? “I do love holding them.”

  “Well, Noah certainly adores you. You’re so good with him.”

  She pulled on her gloves, and watched her sister trace one finger down the baby’s cheek. Then the younger woman swallowed, and met Molly’s eyes. “He’s going to have to get used to not having me, though.” Molly’s breath caught in her throat. “You are too.”

  An icy finger of dread crept down Molly’s neck. “What—what do you mean?”

  “I’m going to go back east, Molly. I want to teach.”

  “To teach what? I thought you were going to teach Peter and Noah and Annie!”

  “I know. I want to do that too. But I want… more. More than just this ranch.”

  A giant band clamped around Molly’s heart, and she sank into one of the kitchen chairs. Her sister was leaving? Leaving her? Leaving them? Leaving Cheyenne? “I thought you loved it here.” Her whisper was barely loud enough to reach across the room, but Wendy heard it.

  “I love the people here.”

  Of course she did. When they had arrived four years ago—almost exactly four years ago—Wendy had been thirteen, and Ash’s brother Nate had been only a year or two older. They’d become fast friends, and Ash and Molly had often speculated on a future between them. The two of them could spend hours reading and chatting over all sorts of things… and if that wasn’t being in love, then Molly didn’t know what was.

  She forced herself to swallow. “When are you leaving?”

  Wendy blinked, as if surprised. Did she think that Molly would object? Of course Molly was going to object, she was her sister! But Wendy was old enough to make her own choices, and if leaving Cheyenne—leaving them—was really what she wanted, then Molly would try her best to dissuade her… and then give in.
>
  “I thought…” Wendy turned back to the baby, bouncing him a little sadly. “In the spring, maybe. After I turn eighteen.”

  She had a few months, then, to figure out what her sister meant when she’d said that she wanted more than this. She had a few months to convince her to not go too far. To convince her that her life was here, with the people who loved her.

  “Have you told Nate yet?” She’d think less of her sister if Wendy was relying on Molly to share the news. Nate was her friend, and he deserved to hear it from Wendy.

  “This morning.”

  Good. “How’d he take it?” Not well, she could imagine.

  Wendy just shook her head slightly, still intent on little Noah’s sweet face. Molly could tell that it was an act.

  Sighing, she heaved herself to her feet. There were times that she felt like an old woman, for all that she was still not thirty. The midwife had told her that she’d have a slower recovery from this pregnancy, and she’d been right. It didn’t help that it was mid-winter, and that she had a stubborn, curious little boy underfoot, and that it was almost Christmas, which was the busiest time of the year for an already-busy mama.

  And now Wendy was planning on leaving them. Would she be able to manage without her younger sister? Would her younger sister be able to manage without them?

  She sighed, and finished pulling on her gloves, watching her sister playing with her son. They’d all manage, somehow.

  Whatever Ash had told Peter had worked, because the little boy was cheerful and chattering about Christmas plans for most of the way to the grove of firs. Molly sat beside him on the bench, holding a sleeping Noah and trying to respond appropriately. Ash was bundled under the same thick blanket, and occasionally joined in too.

  The youngest Murray sister, Annie, drew Peter into a conversation using the language of signs that Wendy had developed for her years ago. Since they all used and understood the signs, Peter had learned them along with the words they’d started teaching him as a baby. He wasn’t quite as fast with them as he was with English, but he could still chat with his deaf aunt.

  Molly twisted in her seat to watch her youngest sister interact with Peter. Wendy had mentioned something earlier this year that had gotten Molly thinking about a school for Annie. Now that Wendy was thinking of going off, maybe it was time to read up on this oralist education Wendy had told them about, and how children like Annie could be taught to speak and interact with the outside world. For now, though, it was sweet to know that Annie and Peter had this special bond.

  For her part, Wendy sat on the back of the sleigh, her feet dangling over the side. Nate would’ve normally ridden, with the sleigh so full, but not today. Today he sat, squeezed up against Wendy, and Molly pretended not to notice their entwined hands under the blanket. They weren’t speaking, but occasionally, Wendy would press her cheek to Nate’s shoulder.

  Molly sighed, and turned back to the beautiful frozen landscape in front of her.

  Before long they were at the grove, and had picked out the tree. Nate had roused himself—all of them could tell how dejected he was, but he made a valiant effort to appear cheerful—to explain to Peter what to look for, and the two of them and Annie had made a great show of finding the perfect tree. And this one was perfect—thick and green and wide enough for all of the presents Ash had purchased the last time he took Molly to town for supplies.

  As he’d promised, her husband let Peter take the first few swings with the ax, his own huge hands wrapped around the boy’s on the handle. Peter seemed pleased with the effort, and only mentioned Scooter once. Then he happily let his father and uncle finish the job of cutting down the tree, but he jumped back in to try to help them lift it into the sleigh.

  Molly handed Noah—who’d woken up and was staring curiously around—to Wendy, and went to fetch her older son. “Honeybear, you can’t help with this part. The tree might slip, and you’d be squished. Or Daddy might not see you, and accidentally step on you.”

  Peter didn’t like being told no, and wanted to make sure that everyone knew. While the two men hoisted the tree into the sleigh, he sat down right in the middle of the knee-deep snow and threw one of the loudest tantrums Molly had heard. His family winced and just worked around him. After a few minutes, Annie sat beside him, and tried to draw him into another conversation. But when he screamed his denial again, even she—who couldn’t hear him!—frowned and moved away.

  Molly had to face facts. She had a very strong-willed child.

  Peter was still at it, even after they tied down the tree and everyone climbed back in the sleigh. It was a good thing that they’d hitched up four horses this morning, to be able to pull the weight… and it was a good thing that they were all even-tempered, to be able to stand the screaming.

  They’d made it almost halfway home, and Peter was still wailing. Apparently, ignoring him wasn’t going to work. Wendy was cooing to the baby, trying to keep him calm, and Annie was signing to Nate.

  “Enough!” Ash’s booming command was enough to make them all jump in their seats, and to snap Peter’s mouth closed. Her husband was the largest man she’d ever met, and he had a voice to match. He rarely shouted, relying on coaxing and gentleness when he trained his horses, but she could see that he’d reached the end of his rope.

  “Enough,” he said again, gentler this time. Without taking his eyes off the horses’ rumps, he spoke to his son. “Boy, what’s the matter with you? Why are you giving your mother—giving all of us!—such a hard time? She’s got enough to do to get ready for Christmas without you fussing. At this rate, Christmas won’t happen.”

  Peter began to cry again, but this time it wasn’t the stubborn-tantrum-cry. This time it was the broken-hearted cry because his father had yelled at him. Molly smiled a bit at Ash. She didn’t always agree with his parenting choices—she tried her hardest not to yell at Peter—but she appreciated that he was making them. And since he got results, she couldn’t really complain. She’d been at her wit’s end with Peter’s tantrum, too.

  So she pulled her oldest son into her lap, and rocked him back and forth a little. “It’s okay, honeybear. You’re part of my Christmastime, and I love you. I can still get everything ready to go in time, trust me.”

  “Hey, Molls!” Nate always knew how to distract them. “If you could have one Christmas wish, what would it be?”

  Some peace and quiet, she wanted to say, but knew that she never would. Instead, she plastered a big grin on her face. “For Peter to become best friends with Noah, so that he could have someone to play with.”

  “What about you, Ash?”

  “Some alone time…” Ash’s low rumble could still make her stomach flutter, when he canted those lovely gray eyes her way, “…with Molly.”

  She gave him a knowing look, and then rolled her eyes. He chuckled, and her heart felt lighter.

  “How about you, Pete? If you could have any Christmas wish, what would it be?”

  She felt her son tense up, as if ready to explode. “Noah’s not my friend! He’s a baby!”

  Hugging him, Molly brushed her cheek against the hat that covered his soft hair. Her little baby had grown up so fast. “Well? What’s your Christmas wish?”

  “I wish he wasn’t a baby! I wish he wasn’t born!”

  “Oh, honey, you don’t mean that.” Even as she said it, she knew that engaging with him wasn’t going to work, but she couldn’t help but defend the way her stomach had plummeted at his words.

  “Yes, I do! I hate him! I wish he was grown up!” Two-year-old logic being what it was, he didn’t seem to notice or care that his wishes were contradictory. “I wish he was my friend!” Pete took a long, shuddering breath. “I wish Scooter was real!”

  He dissolved into tears, and Molly was helpless to do anything but hold him. His tears turned to hiccoughs, and then to quiet murmurs as he slowly fell asleep in her arms, exhausted by his tantrum.

  Long before that point, however, Ash wrapped his free arm around
her, and pulled both of them against him. Molly went willingly, glad for his support and warmth. She knew Wendy had Noah safe behind them—could hear his coos and her occasional murmur to Nate, and right now one child was all that she could handle.

  She’d been baking since dawn, had juggled nursing little Noah with her long list of things to prepare for the holiday, and then this. Chopping down the family Christmas tree together was a tradition she’d started her second year here, and by God, she wanted to make Christmastime a special time for everyone. She worked so hard to be cheerful and thankful for whatever help the rest of the family provided, but she was still overwhelmed by everything.

  Christmastime was magical, but so much extra work for her. There were times that she just wanted to dissolve into tears herself, and today was one of them.

  And so she was happy to let Ash take a little of Peter’s weight, and some of her worries, when he squeezed her tightly against him. With a sigh, she closed her eyes and rested her cheek against her husband’s shoulder.

  I wish that Scooter was real, and that Peter had a real friend to distract him. I wish that Wendy wasn’t planning on leaving so soon. Molly exhaled. Christmas might be the time for miracles, but not impossible wishes. Peter couldn’t play with Scooter, Noah still wasn’t old enough to play with his brother, and Wendy had the right to search out adventure on her own. There was really only one thing she needed to wish for this year.

  I wish for the strength to make it through Peter’s tantrums, and the love to support my family in their decisions, and the peace to make this a wonderful Christmas celebration, despite all of our heartaches.

  She was going to need it.

  It was already late afternoon by the time they made it home, and Molly was glad that she’d had the forethought to make a large batch of stew yesterday, so that she wouldn’t have to cook again tonight. She loved fixing meals for her family, but there were some nights that she wished they’d eat a little less. Tonight, though, they had plenty.