A Texas Legacy Christmas (5 page)

She touched her gloved finger to the tip of her nose and leaned onto his shoulder. “I know, but this road won’t be easy.”

He didn’t need his mama to remind him.

Chloe turned from one side of the bed to the other, then onto her back in a frustrating effort to sleep, but Zack Kahler’s appearance consumed her mind. She still thought of him as the boy who supplied her with food every day. Why was she allowing him to dwell in her thoughts? Could it be her heart had never healed from the childhood infatuation with him? She’d been twelve when he finished school, and she’d seen him at church every Wednesday night and Sunday after that until he left for school in New York. His absence had caused her to cry for weeks.

Zack had been gone four years. And now he’d come home with children who were definitely older than four.

He said he wasn’t married. Had his wife died, or had they separated? Where was the twins’ mother? The children had immediately attached themselves to her heart, and those cute accents further endeared them to her. So what had Zack been doing in New York? A few immoral thoughts trekked across her mind. “Father, forgive me,” she whispered into the darkness. Suddenly she gasped. What is wrong with me? The truth ushered in an answer. Chloe touched her heart. A long time ago she’d placed Zack on a pedestal for his kindness toward her, and now with his appearance and questionable past, she’d knocked him clear to the ground.

His morals and the reason he now had two children were none of her business. Chloe thought a moment longer. She’d become just like those gossips who had hurt her all of her life—condemning and criticizing without taking the time to learn the truth. With that realization, she shoved aside everything that had to do with Zack Kahler and vowed to sleep.

Four thirty in the morning came too soon. Yawning and craving a few more precious moments of rest, Chloe crawled from bed and readied herself for work. She lit a lantern and watched the amber shadows dance across the faded wallpaper. Had Zack grown accustomed to the new electric lights? What did he think of all the people in that huge city? And what of those newfangled automobiles?

Shaking her head, Chloe scolded herself for allowing Zack to creep back into her thoughts. She smelled coffee and hurried to help Simeon. The time spent with the old man gave her a lift for the day. His wisdom and views about living a good life were often amusing, and she stored his sayings in her head to contemplate during mindless chores.

“Morning, Simeon. What’s for breakfast today?”

He tossed his familiar toothless grin her way. “Scrambled eggs with bits of onion and jalapeños, corn bread, sausage, and grits.”

“Are the eggs real spicy?” She didn’t want the children to burn their mouths.

“Not any more than usual. Opens up the head, I always say. Takes care of what ails a body. Coffee’s done and waitin’ on ya.” He wagged the knife her way. “Has anybody complained about my eggs?” He frowned.

Chloe planted a kiss on his whiskered face, then tied an apron around her waist. “Now, Simeon, the only reason I asked was because we have a couple of children staying with us. They’re from New York, and I doubt if they have ever tasted jalapeños.”

He attempted to scowl but laughed instead. “Do you want to keep a couple of eggs separate for ’em? Far be it from me to tamper with a young’un’s sensitive nature.”

“Oh, you will be blessed for sure.”

“I already have been. Seein’ you each morning since you started working here is like having my own private angel. God knew this old man had seen his share of strife and needed a glimpse of heaven.”

She shook her head. “You sure have a way with words.”

“I’m speakin’ the truth. And I’m not the only one who’s noticed ya.”

She threw him a puzzled look.

“Mr. Barton. Yep, he sure is smilin’ the last couple of days, and I saw him watchin’ yer every move.”

“He only wants to make sure I’m doing a good job.” His little test still caused her stomach to churn and her temper to surface.

Simeon turned back to cutting up pieces of onion and pepper while whistling “The Yellow Rose of Texas.”

Mr. Barton? Heaven forbid. Simeon needed to concentrate on cooking and not matchmaking. First a sleepless night because she couldn’t get Zack out of her mind and now the prospect of Mr. Barton’s interest. She whipped her attention to measuring grits and water into a huge pan. The twins might like butter in their grits or sugar or maybe both.

“The Yellow Rose of Texas” continued to waft about the kitchen while Chloe fumed about two men who didn’t interest her in the least. Eighteen years with her father had shown her what men were really like. She’d be better off sticking with Simeon in the kitchen.

*****

Zack gathered up the wet sheets from the twins’ bed and descended the back stairs that he thought led to the kitchen. His nose detected what had awakened him this morning. Curly had been humiliated and defensive at the same time. How had those two managed at the orphanage or on the street?

A woman used to pick up the laundry from the boardinghouse and return it later. He hoped that was still the procedure, considering they would be staying there until he found a home for them. God must have known what He was doing when He urged Zack to save his earnings. He also could have warned Zack about a few things regarding a pair of six-year-olds.

At the foot of the stairs, he opened a door and inhaled tantalizing smells that tugged at his empty stomach. Another door opened to the kitchen. An old man with an apron stirred something in a bowl, and Chloe pulled plates from a cabinet. He gulped. The little girl he remembered sure had changed.

Clearing his throat, he forged ahead. “Ah, morning.” Awkwardness for what he carried in his arms hit him like a blast of New York wind.

Chloe swung her attention his way and smiled. “Why, good morning, Zack.” She walked his way and took the sheets from his arms, then deposited them in a heap outside the door behind him as though the problem was common place. “We’ll have these taken care of today. And I’ll remake the bed after breakfast.”

“I’m sorry. One of the twins had an accident.” He ventured to study her face. For a moment, he thought he’d drown. An image of the little girl who always thanked him with her wide eyes and sweet smile flashed across his mind.

“Don’t think a moment about it. What else do you need?”

“A pitcher of water . . . for the wash basin.” What had come over him? Words had fled from his brain.

“Certainly.” She reached into the cabinet again and pulled out a pitcher. “I’ll make sure it’s warm.”

While she busied herself with the water, he observed an old man who poured eggs into a huge skillet. “I’m Zack Kahler.”

The whiskered old man nodded. “Pleased to meet you. I’m Simeon, the cook. I’d shake your hand, but they’re soaked in onion and jalapeños.”

“Sure smells good.” All this time, Zack watched Chloe from the corner of his eye. Hadn’t he decided that no woman would ever capture his attention again after Elizabeth had pierced his heart? Yet in all of her finery, Miss Elizabeth had never possessed the same beauty as his eyes feasted on this moment.

“Here you are.” Chloe held out the pitcher and draped a cloth over it.

“Thanks.” He took the pitcher and lingered a moment longer on her face. If not for the high cheekbones, she could have passed for the Italian women he’d seen in New York. Not that her Indian heritage bothered him. He’d seen a mix in America’s melting pot. The people of this country weren’t known for color or race but for their courage and purpose. He had no use for prejudice. No time for it. Besides, it went against God’s character.

“Please remember I’ll take care of your room after breakfast.”

Zack swallowed hard. “The twins refused to go to sleep last night for fear of this . . . problem. So I took a few precautions for the mattress.”

She smiled again. “I appreciate that. What are the children’s names?”

“Curly and Charlie. Curly is the boy, and Charlie’s the girl.” Now he sounded stupid. “Their names are Carlin and Caitlain, but they like the nicknames.”

“I do, too. They are adorable children. All those curls and freckles.”

“Yeah, they are special. I hope to find a house for us soon.”

“Little ones need room to run and play.”

“And they can be a bundle of energy. I never dreamed adoption would be so difficult.”

Simeon cleared his throat. “Miss Chloe, your grits are going to boil over if you don’t watch ’em.”

She blushed and hurried to the stove. Her waist-length black hair clung to her back, tied with a narrow strip of leather.

“Thanks for the water and cloth.”

“You’re welcome.” She pulled the pan of grits from the stove and glanced up at him. “Let me know if there is anything else you need.”

As Zack carried the water pitcher carefully up the back stairs, he heard Simeon whistling “The Yellow Rose of Texas.” Chloe laughed. A very delicious sound.

Once back in the room, he helped Curly wash and change into dry clothes. The little boy sniffed and avoided Zack.

“Hey, little man, it’s all right.”

“It’s what babies do.”

“You are not a baby, and I remember my little brother had the same problem after our dad died.”

“When did it stop?”

Zack thought back through the tragedy of his father’s illness and death. “I don’t remember, but it couldn’t have been very long. I’ll help you with it. How about I wake you up in the middle of the night to use the chamber pot?”

Curly nodded but still avoided Zack’s gaze. Poor little fellow.

Charlie touched Zack’s arm. “You’re alone like us, except your mama and papa are close by.”

Zack reached out to touch her soft curls. “I’ll do my best with you two, but you have to do your part and behave.”

She tilted her head and nodded. “Me and Curly do get into trouble.”

“Try real hard, all right?” He smiled at the two with the full understanding they could break into a punching match in the next five minutes. “Are you ready for breakfast? When I fetched the water, the food sure smelled good.”

Their eyes widened. “We never ate so much before you got us,” Curly said.

The simplicity of his statement touched Zack in the pit of his stomach—he’d never known true hunger. “Here on out, you two will eat regularly. And I’m going to see if I can get each of you another set of clothes.”

“And a warm coat and scarf?” Charlie rubbed her hands together as if anticipating wintry temperatures.

“Honey, it doesn’t get that cold here.” He’d told them before about Kahlerville’s mild temperatures, but they must not have believed him.

The twins exchanged a puzzled look.

“You may need a jacket, but most of the time the weather’s pleasant.”

Curly giggled and covered his mouth. “This must be the heaven Sister Catherine talked about. Plenty of food and no cold weather.”

Zack swiped a tear from his eye and vowed to remember this moment the next time they tried his patience to the hilt.

They made their way down the front steps to the dining room. No sooner had they sat down than Chloe stood before them and described breakfast.

“I have a couple of scrambled eggs put aside without the onions and jalapeños for the children.”

What a good idea. “Thank you, Chloe. Me, I love the onions and hot peppers in mine.”

“I want mine like yours.” Curly lifted his chin.

“Tell you what.” He leaned toward the little boy. “I’ll let you taste my eggs, and if you like them, we’ll get you some.”

When he focused his attention on Chloe, a faint smile played on her lips. Did he see admiration in her eyes?

“Mr. Zack, when you told us to be good, does that mean you’re sending us back to the orphanage if we’re bad?” Curly said.

“I want to know that, too, Mr. Zack.” Charlie folded her little hands under her chin. “I don’t want to go back there. I’ll do anything you want.”

“We can sell newspapers and give you all the money.” Curly sat straight in his chair.

Chloe’s smile immediately whipped into a frown, and she whirled around toward the kitchen. Did she think he’d been mistreating the twins? Threatening them? What had he done wrong?

Chloe poured the twins each a glass of milk. She didn’t understand their relationship to Zack, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to. Their welfare had nothing to do with her, and she had enough duties at the boardinghouse to keep her mind and body occupied. But the sad, fearful look on those children’s faces tugged at the memories of herself as a child. She understood loneliness, fear of what tomorrow might bring, and intense hunger. After her mother died, her father had resented Chloe and found fault with nearly everything she did. He used the strap at his every whim and threatened to leave her on the preacher’s doorstep where she’d be put to work.

All because she looked like her mother.

He began to drink until he drank himself into a grave. She’d surmised he was drunk the night the house caught on fire.

She rubbed her temples. Indeed, someone needed to protect those children. Why did the twins call Zack by his first name? What had happened to their mother? If he had adopted them, why didn’t they call him Dad or Papa? For that matter, was Zack Kahler a saint, or did the children need to be rescued?

Chloe shook her head and loaded the children’s plates with the scrambled eggs seasoned only with salt and pepper. There must be a reasonable explanation for all of this. For the children’s sake, she had to find the answers. None of this had anything to do with her past feelings for Zack. It had everything to do with how she’d grown up without the basic needs of life. Children needed love and care, plenty of good food, and clothing. Anything less wasn’t fair.

*****

Zack didn’t have time to contemplate Chloe’s sudden coldness to him, but he’d come to realize that was the way of women—especially single ones. Now, if he could find a woman who was more settled in her ways like his mama, then he might have found a jewel. Shaking his head, he cast aside his thoughts. Mama had her moments, too. Right now, he had a list a mile long for the day, and his first chore was to stop by the schoolhouse. Hopefully Miss Scott had forgotten all the trouble he used to get into before Brother Whitworth became his dad.

With his hand firmly clasped around each twin’s hand, Zack made his way through town toward the schoolhouse. Folks stopped to admire his little imps with oohs and aahs. One woman who had taught him in Sunday school asked if they were his children.

“Yes, ma’am. I’m in the process of adopting them.”

Her eyes sparkled beneath a layer of wrinkled years of wisdom. “Oh, my dear boy, you are in for an adventure.”

He had been down a few of those paths already.

Zack and the twins continued to make their way through town. Storefronts had taken on a fresh coat of paint, and the new businesses pleased him. He saw two general stores—the larger one had been in the Kahler family for years—a dentist office, a post office, and a millinery. At dinner last night, Mama had said the town’s dressmaker had plans to build her own shop and that the cotton gin outside of town had expanded. Progress.

“Got a Methodist and a Lutheran church here now, too,” Dad had said. “The German folk don’t have to ride so far for services now.”

Zack imagined the town dressed up for Christmas. That was one part of New York that he’d miss. The magnificence of the decorated tree in Central Park, the greenery woven around streetlights, and the dressed windows of the businesses put everyone in a festive mood. But as he caught sight of the town’s square, he realized decorating the tree there would have more meaning with his children.

“What are they doing?” Curly pointed to a building project on the town square.

Zack stopped to observe men laying brick. “Why, that must be the new courthouse. Kahlerville has been named the county seat.” More progress. More people. And more people reading newspapers.

“What’s that mean?” Charlie said.

“It means that the people who are in charge of running the government around here will work in that building.”

He could tell she didn’t understand, but he hadn’t much practice in explaining things to children.

Walking toward the school, Zack pointed out a few of the familiar sights. “Across from the school is the church where I grew up.”

“You mean you lived inside the church with the sisters and the priest?” Curly said. “I thought you had a mama and papa.”

Zack laughed at the serious look on the little boy’s face. “I meant that is where I attended church while I was growing up. A lot of memories there. Good ones.” Someday when the twins were older, he’d tell them about his difficulty handling life after his father died. Some of which they’d understand now. “When my father died, I was sad and got into trouble.”

Charlie’s eyes widened. “Like us?”

Zack nodded. “Your grandpa decided to help me and then married your grandma.”

“Like you took us?”

“I guess so.” Zack chuckled.

“Did the priest and the sisters at your church tell him to do that?” Curly said.

“We don’t have a priest and sisters at our church.”

Charlie tugged on his hand. “How can you have a church without ’em?”

“Different people have different ways to worship God. Your grandpa is the preacher at this church.” He smiled into her confused face. “You’ll see for yourself next Sunday.”

The church sat back off the road directly ahead. Beside it was the old parsonage where his grandparents had lived and served the community for years. They’d been laid to rest in the Piney Woods Cemetery behind the church a long time ago. He looked forward to next Sunday when he could walk through the memories that helped form him into a man.

Zack drew in a deep breath. Perhaps he should have arranged a meeting with Miss Scott before the other students arrived. He glanced up at a huge oak tree where he’d once stolen the clothes from Miss Scott’s line and hung them on the branches. Unfortunately, his dad—actually this was before the man had proposed to Mama—had figured it out and made him retrieve the clothes and apologize to his teacher. Zack laughed just thinking about it. He’d never forget Miss Scott’s bloomers waving in the breeze. Now, here he was bringing his own double-trouble to the town’s teacher.

He stopped in the middle of the road. “I went to school here. Miss Scott’s a fine teacher.”

The twins said nothing.

“Are you scared?”

“A little,” Charlie said. “Can’t we just stay with you?”

Zack bent down and pulled the two children to the front of him. “No one is going to hurt you. You’ll make good friends that will last until you are very old. Miss Scott will make you behave, but she’ll also love you and teach you the things you should know. Aunt Lydia Anne and Uncle Stuart attend here, too.”

“But we can’t read or do numbers,” Charlie said. “We didn’t go to school much in New York.”

“That’s what Miss Scott is for. But you won’t stay here today. Tomorrow we’ll start school. Remember, today we’re going out to the ranch after lunch.”

The two nodded. Charlie blinked back a tear, but Curly looked just plain defiant. That sent a whirling sensation to the pit of Zack’s stomach. He started to make a comment about what he expected from them at school, but that lecture could wait until tomorrow.

“Let’s get going. We have much to do today.”

Opening up the schoolhouse door brought a flood of more memories—good and bad. He thought about little Chloe Weaver. She wasn’t so little anymore. She used to sit in the back of the room away from the other children. He’d sat in the back, too, on the other side of the room, partly out of orneriness and partly as a self-made guardian for Chloe. He hoped someone would take on that role for his twins. From the looks of her all grown up, she still needed someone protecting her.

Miss Scott started at the sight of him. “Why, Zack Kahler. I heard you were coming back to town. What a fine way to start a morning. I’ll be right with you.”

She issued a few instructions to the students and joined him in the back of the room, her skirts bustling as she went. He well remembered that sound, especially if she was after him. Good thing he had mended his ways when he acknowledged Jesus as Lord.

A fire had been built in the stove near the front, no doubt to take the chill out of the air. The scent of wood warmed him more than the heat the fire provided. Miss Scott had a large class. Looked like she could use a little help, but then, he well recalled how she kept a classroom in order.

“And who are these beautiful children?” she said. “I heard you returned from New York with a delightful set of twins.”

“News travels fast. They are mine. I’m in the process of adopting them. Charlie, Curly, this is Miss Scott. She will be your new teacher.”

Charlie turned her little face bathed in freckles up toward him. “Where is her long black dress?”

“Miss Scott is not a sister. We don’t have those ladies in this school.” He offered Miss Scott a smile. “They were previously taught by Catholic sisters.”

“How much schooling have they had?”

Zack dragged his tongue over his lips. He stared down at the two. “How long have you been going to school?”

Curly shook his head. “Usually we just sneaked off to sell newspapers.”

Zack thought he’d sink right through the floor. “Miss Scott, these children lived in an orphanage in New York. Life was hard, and—”

“Never you mind, Zack. We’ll do just fine.” She smiled wide, her round face a picture of caring and concern.

He wanted to hug her. “Thank you. I’d like to start them tomorrow. This is their first day in Kahlerville, and I’d like to get them a little more settled.”

“Excellent idea. I’ll be looking for them in the morning. Don’t forget to bring lunches. And I’ll need for you to provide me with their full names and birthdays.” Miss Scott placed her hands on her ample hips. “I suggest you have your Uncle Grant take a look at them to make sure they’re healthy.”

He hadn’t thought of that. “I will.” He grasped Charlie and Curly’s hands. “Have a good morning.” He gazed down at the twins. “What are you supposed to say?”

“Have a good morning,” they chorused.

Once outside, Zack complimented the twins on their good behavior. He focused his attention on the newspaper office—feeling like a boy again heading for penny candy. The town’s paper had gone through a few owners, but he had visions of a daily paper that incorporated news from the neighboring communities and essentially brought the folks together.

They stepped inside, and he cautioned the children not to bother anything until he was finished, especially if they were looking forward to fun at the ranch. Maybe his bribery approach wasn’t the best, but how else could he manage them? The familiar smells of paper and ink were better than a quilt on a cold night.

“Mornin’, Zack,” Hank called out. “I heard you got back to town.”

“Yes sir. Last evening’s train. I sure am glad you decided to stay on and help me with the paper. I appreciate your talking Gilbert into staying, too. I really need a master printer and journeyman, and you two are the best. Thanks for persuading the fellas to stay in the back to set type. Without everyone here, the paper will not fulfill the vision we’ve talked about.” He took in the familiar sights of the press and the typesetter. The
Frontier Press
was peanuts next to the size of the New York Times, but this paper was his. And the ownership made him feel powerfully good.

“Helpin’ you will be a whole lot easier than trying to run it all myself. Gil is a smart man, and he’s learning real fast. When there are edits to do, he has a good eye for catching mistakes. We need a couple of reporters, but that will come.”

A small desk cluttered with papers sat at an angle in the corner of the room. A typewriter rose from the middle of the disarray like a chimney soaring above a roaring fire—a fire of news. Life. Truth. Homespun and worldwide. Yes, he was home. The smells, the sound of the typesetter, and the taste of excitement in the air were in his blood. He wanted so much for this paper to bless and inform the people of Kahlerville, and he hoped his ideas would soon take form. Not today, but tomorrow he’d tell Hank that the
Frontier Press
would soon become a daily paper, an evening edition. Before the twins, he’d wanted to print a morning paper, but he couldn’t leave his children until eleven at night. Press time at noon made more sense.

Electricity was now a luxury. He’d gotten spoiled with it at the Times, but new advances would come to Kahlerville in due time—as well as a printing press that ran the pages instead of requiring the lengthy process of doing it by hand.

“Zack, you’re grinning like the mouse that ate the cat.” Hank laughed.

“I feel like Christmas came early.” He felt a tug on his coattail.

“Mr. Zack, where’s the newsboys?” Curly said. “I ain’t seen anyone sellin’ papers.”

“The proper word is ‘I haven’t seen anyone.’ We don’t sell papers here like in New York. Some folks come into the office to buy them. We also have a stack at the general store and the boardinghouse. Hank and I will deliver newspapers to folks who live on farms and ranches, and a young man here in town takes them to the people of Kahlerville. We mail some of them too.”

The little boy shook his head. “Sure is strange. No sisters or priests and no newsboys. Makes me wonder what a body is supposed to do to earn a livin’.”

Hank laughed until tears rolled down his cheeks. He lifted his hat from his bald head and laughed some more. “The city has just met the country.”

Zack worked with Hank and discussed the paper until the twins could not handle another moment of behaving themselves.

“You hit me one more time, and I’m going to black your eyes and break your arm.”

Zack whirled around to see Charlie with her little arm drawn back. Curly lay sprawled on the wooden floor, and she sat atop him.

“Is that any way for you to treat your brother?”

She lifted her chin. “He said girls can’t fight as good as boys.”

“You’ve already proven him wrong. Get off of him, and we’ll leave here in just a minute.”

Hank muffled another laugh. Zack turned and grinned. “I know I tried my mother’s patience, but these two will make an old man out of me.”

“You need a woman.”