The Christmas Bargain

  By

  SHANNA HATFIELD

  The Christmas Bargain

  Copyright 2012

  by Shanna Hatfield

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  For permission requests, please contact the author, with a subject line of "permission request” at the email address below or through her website.

  Shanna Hatfield

  shanna@shannahatfield.com

  shannahatfield.com

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Books by Shanna Hatfield

  FICTION

  The Christmas Bargain

  The Coffee Girl

  Learnin’ the Ropes

  QR Code Killer

  Grass Valley Cowboys Series

  The Cowboy’s Christmas Plan

  The Cowboy’s Spring Romance

  The Cowboy’s Summer Love

  The Cowboy’s Autumn Fall

  The Women of Tenacity Series

  The Women of Tenacity - A Prelude

  Heart of Clay

  Country Boy vs. City Girl

  Not His Type

  ><><

  NON-FICTION

  Savvy Entertaining Series

  Savvy Holiday Entertaining

  Savvy Spring Entertaining

  Savvy Summer Entertaining

  Savvy Autumn Entertaining

  To those who come to the rescue,

  offer hope,

  and keep the true meaning of the season

  in their hearts every day of the year.

  Chapter One

  Eastern Oregon, 1893

  “I done told ya already, Luke, I ain’t got the money,” Alford Booth whined in a nasally tone that made Luke Granger tightly clamp his square jaw while a vein pulsed in his neck.

  Slowly removing his hat and running a hand through his thick golden hair, Luke tried to keep his irritation with the man from showing. If Alford spent a little less time drinking and a lot more time working his land, they wouldn’t be having this discussion. Luke rued the day Alford stepped foot in his bank and asked for a loan.

  “I’ve extended all the time I can, Alford. You know the loan is already ten months past due,” Luke said, trying to hold on to the edges of his quickly fraying temper.

  Alford stared at him a moment through glazed eyes before spewing a stream of tobacco juice that barely missed Luke’s boot.

  “Well, ya know I planned to pay ya off after harvest. Weren’t my fault we had a drought this year and the crop failed. Weren’t my fault at all.”

  Releasing a sigh, Luke leveled his icy blue stare on Alford. He was somewhat gratified to see the man grow uncomfortable and uneasy. “It’s never your fault, is it Alford? Always someone else’s fault, but you aren’t the only one who’s had a hard year. I’m sorry about that but you’ve got to make some form of payment.”

  “Some form?” Alford asked with an odd glint in his eye that made Luke wary. “Ya mean ya’d take somethin’ other than cash?”

  Luke thought carefully about his response. Alford would weasel his way out of the loan if Luke gave him an inch of finagling room. “It would greatly depend on what that something was.”

  Alford smiled, revealing several missing spaces in his rotten teeth. “I’ll give ya my daughter. Will that settle the debt?”

  “What?” Luke’s head jerked up, sure he misheard the drunken old coot. “What did you say?”

  “Take my daughter. She ain’t much to look at, but she can cook and clean. She’s strong and can work all the day long. The girl ain’t too bright, though. Sometimes ya got to show her who’s boss, but a firm hand straightens her out in no time. Ya need a cook and housekeeper, don’t ya?”

  Seething with disgust that the man would try to barter his daughter to settle his debts, Luke clenched the brim of his hat in his hands to keep from popping Alford with his fist. “That is not an acceptable payment, Alford. Not at all.”

  “Then I guess I’ll give her to Cecil to settle my bill. He said he’d give me some cash besides. I can haul her in this evenin’ after she cleans up the supper dishes and get ya yer money tomorra,” Alford said, scratching his rotund belly with a dirt-encrusted hand.

  Luke was seeing red. He didn’t care how homely the girl was or how desperate Alford might be for cash, he couldn’t rationalize that a father would trade his daughter to Cecil Montague, the local saloon owner and keeper of the town’s “soiled doves,” to pay off his bills.

  “I’ll take the girl,” Luke said, surprised when the words rushed out, wishing he could reel them back.

  Alford smiled again and nodded his filthy head. “I’ll send her over to yer place tomorra.”

  “No,” Luke said, not trusting Alford to keep his word. “I’ll take her with me now.”

  “But what about my supper?” Alford whined, suddenly realizing he’d be losing his own cook and housekeeper.

  Luke stood to his full height of six-foot, three-inches, and towered over the sniveling man before him. “What about it?”

  “I…well…”Alford said, fear filling his face as he backed away from Luke and the menacing look that was turning ice blue eyes hard and cold. “I reckon I can make do.”

  “I reckon you will,” Luke said, walking toward the house with Alford following along behind. When they got to the door, Luke waited for Alford to open it and go inside. Expecting filth and foul smells, Luke was taken aback by the clean, albeit shabby interior. Everything was neat and tidy and the delicious smell of stew filled the room, making his mouth water.

  A tall figure, clad in a dress the color of dirt, leaned over a scarred table, setting down bowls and spoons. Her hair was covered with a kerchief, and a large white apron hid the rest of her.

  “Philamena, ya remember Mr. Granger. He owns the bank in town,” Alford said, pointing to Luke as he ambled to the table and pulled up a chair.

  The woman, who was painfully thin, cast a quick glance Luke’s direction, but never raised her eyes to his. She quietly nodded her head as she stood clasping her work-reddened hands primly in front of her.

  Luke tried to think of the last time he had seen Philamena Booth. He vaguely recalled her as a happy, smiling child from school days, but being a few grades behind him, he hadn’t paid her any attention. She didn’t come to church, shop in town or, as far as he knew, ever leave the farm.

  He remembered seeing her once when he rode out trying to collect on a loan Alford made a few years ago. She was out at the barn and ran to the house while he was dismounting. If memory served him correctly, she was garbed in an ugly dirt-colored dress then, too.

  Luke tipped his head her direction, trying to reconcile himself to his decision. The last thing he wanted or needed was a timid scrawny woman on his hands. But he couldn’t exactly ride off and leave her, knowing her father was willing to turn her over to Cecil. No woman deserved that kind of fate.

  “Ma’am,” Luke said, softly. “Pleasure to see you again.”

  She barely nodded her head, then turned and got another chipped bowl from a cupboard and set it on the table. Alford motioned for Luke to sit down, which he did.

  Pouring them both a cup of cold water, Philamena dished up heaping bowls of vegetable stew for the two me
n. Her bowl hardly had enough in it to feed a bird, causing Luke to study her. She ate with fine manners, her back straight as a rod, while her father shoveled in his meal like it was the last one he’d have.

  When his bowl was empty, Alford banged it once in Philamena’s direction then burped loudly. She got up from the table and filled his bowl with the remains in the stew pot before quietly returning to her seat.

  Finished eating, Alford scratched at his scraggly beard then glanced Luke’s direction. Luke offered a cool glare that seemed to loosen Alford’s tongue.

  “Daughter, Mr. Granger has come to collect on his loan and seein’ as how we can’t pay, he agreed to settle for somethin’ else. Get yer stuff, yer leavin’ with him.”

  Philamena’s head shot up and she stared at her father, unmoving. From his seat at the table, Luke could only see her profile, but imagined the look of shock that settled on her face.

  “Ya heard me, gal. Clean up them dishes then get yer things.” Alford drained his water cup and set it on the table with a thunk.

  “But, Pa…” she said. Luke was surprised by the soft, husky voice.

  Leaning her direction, Alford sneered and raise his hand menacingly. “Don’t ya start that sass with me. Get to it.”

  Philamena ducked her head, gathered up the dishes and washed them without saying a word. She disappeared through an open door off the kitchen and was soon back with a small bundle tied up in a burgundy and green quilt.

  Luke stood from the table, pinning Alford in place with an irate glare. Turning toward Philamena he felt more pity for the woman than words could express. He couldn’t begin to imagine how awful it would be to live with a man like Alford.

  “May I help you with your coat, miss? The ride back to town might be chilly,” Luke said as he stepped next to Philamena. Although she was dressed in dowdy, shabby clothes, they were pressed and clean. That told Luke a lot about her sense of personal pride. Someone, at some point, had taught her well.

  “She ain’t got a coat. No need for one since she don’t go nowhere. Too homely for any man to come courtin’. She’ll be fine. Wouldn’t be the first time out in the cold for her,” Alford said, picking his teeth with a straw he’d pulled out of his pocket.

  Luke swallowed down the rage that was boiling inside him at a man who apparently didn’t treat his own flesh and blood any better than he did his starving, neglected animals.

  “We best head for town, then,” Luke said, opening the door for Philamena, who hesitantly took a step through. She turned, for just a moment, to give her father one last glance, then walked out toward Luke’s horse that stood tied to the one section of the yard fence not tumbling down.

  Before following her out the door, Luke stared meaningfully at Alford. Although he didn’t know a thing about Philamena, he’d seen enough to know she was being abused at her father’s hand. “Let’s make one thing perfectly clear. I’ll consider your debt paid but only if you never, ever come near your daughter again. Understood?”

  Alford gave him a surprised look before nodding his head. “I’m right glad to finally be rid of the troublesome snit. After twenty-seven years, she finally turned out to be worth somethin’.”

  Luke stalked out the door and slammed it with enough force to break the windows that weren’t already cracked before he gave in to his urge to beat some sense into Alford.

  Placing his hat on his head, Luke ate up the ground to his horse, Drake, in a few long-legged steps. Removing his coat, he draped it around Philamena’s thin shoulders. Untying the reins, Luke mounted in one smooth motion. He took the sorry little bundle of belongings from Philamena and hung it from his saddle horn before leaning down and offering her his hand. She took it without looking into his face and swung up behind him. He was somewhat taken aback by her agility and ease around a horse.

  Riding back toward town, Luke tried to keep a conversation going but it was difficult when all he received was “yes” or “no” responses whispered against his back. He expected Philamena to hold onto his waist and sag against him in relief at being rescued. Instead, she held herself stiffly away from him, a firm grip on the back of his saddle keeping her seat on the horse.

  Giving up on talking to her, he instead thought about the mess he’d gotten himself into as he tried to keep his teeth from chattering in the frosty chill of the November evening. What was he going to do with Miss Philamena Booth?

  <><><>

  Philamena had been waiting thirteen years to be rescued from the prison her father called home. When her mother passed away giving birth to a stillborn boy, her father changed from a loving, caring man into a drunken, dirty tyrant.

  The last time he allowed Philamena to leave the farm was when she turned sixteen. She went into town for her birthday and bought a hair ribbon the same shade of green as her holly-colored eyes. Philamena saved up her meager pennies for months and hid the money from Pa. Begging and pleading to go to town, he finally relented.

  When she came home with the ribbon tied in her thick mahogany curls, followed by one of the livery owner’s boys who had taken a shine to her, her father ripped it from her head and ordered her to stay away from town. He took away not only her freedom, but also any color from her life, forbidding her to wear anything but the ugly, plain brown garments she now wore.

  None of it made any sense to Philamena, but then again, nothing had after her mother died. Pa started drinking heavily after that with the years between becoming a blur of hard labor interrupted by his drunken rages and random beatings.

  Philamena finally learned that being quiet and meek was the only thing that kept him somewhat mollified. It was difficult to see the disgusting man Alford Booth had become and remember what a gentle father and loving husband he had once been.

  Back then, their farm had been prosperous, their home happy and life joyous. Now, their land was a desolate mess.

  To be bartered to the local banker to pay her father’s debt somehow didn’t shock Philamena like it should. She knew Luke Granger was a kind, honest man. At least she assumed he was, recalling what she knew about him from her childhood years.

  Attending the one-room school until she was fourteen, when her father imprisoned her at home, Philamena remembered Luke being a friendly, generous boy who was a few years her senior. He was the type who stood up against bullies, made sure the littlest children weren’t left out of schoolyard games, and excelled in his school work.

  Like most of the girls at school, she was sweet on Luke before he went back East to college. No wonder he grew up to be successful and own the town’s bank.

  As she sat behind him on his horse, Philamena wondered just what exactly he planned to do with her. Breathing deeply, she mentally shrugged and settled his coat more tightly around her. It smelled of leather, horses, and a warm, spicy scent she could only describe as uniquely Luke.

  Of all the men in their small town of Hardman to come to her rescue, Philamena would have been less mortified, but not nearly as pleased, had it been anyone else. Luke was an extremely handsome and kind man that any woman would enjoy being around.

  Nearly lulled to sleep by the steady rhythm of the horse’s gait, Philamena struggled to stay alert. She felt her eyes sliding closed and jerked herself awake, noticing they were riding down the main street of town toward the parsonage at the Christian church, rather than toward Granger House at the far end of town.

  Reining his horse to a stop outside the parsonage, Luke gave Philamena his hand and helped her dismount before stepping out of the saddle and handing the quilt-wrapped bundle to her. She dared not raise her gaze to his, and instead studied the ground as Luke took her elbow and propelled her toward the door.

  She heard him rapping and felt the heat from the cozy inside of the cottage-style home flow around her when the pastor opened the door. Philamena knew from her father’s ramblings that the pastor was one of her former classmates, Chauncy Dodd. He and Luke had been good friends in school.

  “Luke,” Chauncy said w
ith a broad smile. “What brings you by this evening?”

  “I’m hoping you can help me with a…um…situation,” Luke said, turning his gaze to Philamena. She clutched her little bundle tightly to her chest and studied the worn toe of her shoe.

  “Who do we have here?” Chauncy asked, kindness lacing his voice. He opened the door wider and Luke escorted Philamena inside the cheery home. The yeasty smell of bread nearly made Philamena fall to her knees. It had been so long since she’d had bread, she could barely remember the delicious taste of it.

  “Philamena Booth,” Luke said pushing her forward a bit. She still refused to raise her gaze and make eye contact with anyone. “She needs a place to stay tonight and I was hoping you and Abby would take her in.”

  “Absolutely,” Chauncy said as a petite woman, large with child, waddled into the front room.

  “Hello, Luke,” Abby said, squeezing Luke’s hand when he bent down to kiss her cheek. “I thought I heard you. Have you had supper?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Miss Booth made a nice bowl of stew. Would you be able to make her comfortable tonight?”

  “Most definitely,” Abby said, reaching out a hand and capturing Philamena’s. Tugging her toward the kitchen, Abby began a friendly conversation that elicited short, quiet responses from Philamena.

  When the women were out of earshot, Chauncy motioned to two chairs in front of a crackling fire. “Suppose you tell me what trouble you’ve gotten yourself into now.”

  Luke shot his friend a warning glance and settled into the comfortable chair, enjoying the warmth of the fire. “I went out to collect from Alford Booth and he refused to pay again. When I demanded payment he said either I could take his daughter to cancel his debt or he’d sell her to Cecil. I didn’t feel I had a choice. I couldn’t let him take her to the Red Lantern.”