A Christmas Bride

By Linda Cushman

Optimism and a sweet smile successfully hid the hardships Katherine Kingsley and her children faced. Widowed and out of funds, she barely made enough to survive. Determined to raise her family without asking for help, she’s offended when someone starts leaving gifts on their doorstep. She’s forced to swallow her pride and trust God’s leadership. But will she refuse the most important gift that’s offered?

Dave Smith’s heart is as big as the Kansas prairie. His efforts to help a pretty widow result in harm, and unusual circumstances keep placing him in Katherine’s company in spite of his efforts to stay away. When she suddenly leaves town, he panics. Should he throw caution to the wind, and follow her? Will his heart be able to withstand the pain if she rejects him?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Linda Cushman
• Release date: Nov 29, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370362004

Linda Cushman

Linda Cushman and her husband live in rural Polk County, Missouri. Her greatest love is the Lord, who saved her soul and promised a home in heaven. Her children, grandchildren, and great granddaughter are the joy of her life. They have encouraged her to write stories of faith, hope, and inspiration. It is her desire that her writing will help her readers turn to God during life's troubles and trials.

Book preview

A Christmas Bride

Linda Cushman

Birthstone Brides Series

Book Twelve

Cottonwood Falls, Kansas

December, 1873

A Christmas Bride

Historical Christian Romance

Book Twelve of the Birthstone Bride Series

Copyright 2017 by Linda Cushman

ISBN:9781370362004

Cover background photo provided by Chase County Kansas Historical Society

Foreground photo by Dreamstime

Cover design by Mildred Colvin

Scripture verses and references are from the King James Version of the Bible

This book is fiction, and is loosely based on the history of Cottonwood Falls, Kansas and the surrounding area. All characters and events are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual people or events is entirely a coincidence.

No part of this book may be reproduced or sold without the author’s written permission. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

The Christmas Bride

December lady’s birthstone is a sparkling topaz of blue,

From her special someone, to whom she’ll say ‘I do’,

The lonely heart she thought was broken,

Now is full when his love is spoken.

December, 1873

Thump!

Thud!

Dave Smith yanked the door of his mercantile open in time to see boy’s shoes, with holes in the soles, go sailing past him. The lad cradled his head with his arms, his knees tucked to his chest, skittering like a turtle on his back across the boardwalk. He careened away from the wall toward the pole holding up the store’s awning. The boy ricocheted off the pole and slammed into the wall again where he lay sprawled and dazed.

Stepping onto the boardwalk, Dave’s feet flew out from under him and he landed flat of his back beside the boy. He opened his eyes to find Wes Kingsly peering at him with wide, brown eyes.

Kind of slick isn’t it, Mr. Smith? Wes gulped, trying to stop the grin that threatened to escape. Are you hurt?

I’d reckon it’s slick. Dave rolled his shoulders. I’m okay since I didn’t hit my noggin. He rolled to his knees and gingerly got his feet under him. What about you? Are you hurt?

Wes stood and brushed dust and snow from Dave’s overcoat. Nah, that didn’t hurt much. It was fun, but I didn’t do it on purpose. He glanced at the awning pole. Did I break anything? I’ll fix it if I did. He shifted from one foot to the other.

No, everything’s fine. What happened?

I’m late for school and was trying to catch up with my sister. I was running and my feet slid out from under me when I jumped up on the boardwalk. I had to jump high so I wouldn’t hang my shoe on the edge. He lifted one foot to reveal a flapping sole on the shoe. A gaping hole in the toe left nothing to repair. I’m sorry I scared you, but I’ve got to run.

Be careful. It probably isn’t so slick on the street.

Wes was already trotting away. I’d get my feet wet out there.

Dave watched the lad run toward the school then retrieved his broom and swept the walk. Most of the thin layer of snow had been cleared away by Wes’s coat.

Poor kid, he muttered. I wonder if Katherine can afford shoes. He rested his chin on his folded hands on top of the broom. Of course she couldn’t or else Wes would have better shoes. What could he do to help? He didn’t want to offend her, but winter had barely started and it wouldn’t do to let a child run around in holey shoes while he had plenty of material goods.

A perfect print of the lad’s shoe remained where he’d jumped from the street. Dave pulled a measuring tape from his pocket and smiled smugly. He’d find a way to get the shoes to Wes without hurting Katherine’s feelings. After all, it was the first of December. Not too soon for a secret Santa to begin working.

***

The patchwork quilt on her daughter’s bed was the only bright spot in the room Katherine shared with her daughter. She brushed a dusting of snow off the quilt and surveyed the cracks in the planks of the north wall. Just enough space to let snow filter through along with the constant cold wind.

Lord, how will we make it? She sank to her knees beside the bed, and bowed her head. All my savings are gone, and I’m not earning enough to take care of my family. Help me trust you to provide for us. Show me what to do. I don’t want to burden anyone, but my children are suffering. She rested her forehead against the scratchy wool patch of the quilt her mother had made many years ago. Her parents had scrambled to provide for her and her brother. She’d manage too.

A few minutes later, she stood in Smith’s Mercantile waiting for Dave to finish helping a customer. Her gaze wandered over the vast array of goods, and she bit her lip. It was hard not to covet. She needed to trust the Lord completely to give her what she needed. But those shoes sitting behind the counter looked just right for Wes. She scrunched her eyes shut and whispered a prayer. Forgive me, Lord. I could buy a whole bushel of potatoes for the price of the shoes, but I don’t have money for either.

She jumped when Dave appeared in front of her. His dark brows rose as a smile lifted the corners of his lips. He really did have nice lips that had been hidden under a bushy mustache until recently.

How can I help you?

I need some wall paper paste if it isn’t too expensive. She pulled her purse closer. The few coins had to last until Saturday evening when she’d get paid for waitressing at The Falls Café.

I’ll see what I have. He hustled to one of the shelves and came back holding a small box. His thumb covered the price. I have this one pound box of dry powder that will make a gallon when it’s mixed with water. He pulled his mouth to one side before he spoke. It’s on sale this week for four cents.

Really? Will the paste stick to unfinished wood? She leaned in close as he read the directions. The price, marked in bright red, said eleven cents. He wouldn’t sell it at less than half price, would he?

Dave huffed. No, guess it won’t. His brows lowered as he read the instructions again. Are you papering the walls of the outside perimeter of your house?

Um, yes, if I can find enough old newspapers. She drew a long ragged breath. I’ve got to find a way to keep the wind from whistling through the house.

"I see. I’ve got plenty of newspapers for you, and it’s easy to make paste from flour, water, and a little salt. It should