The Christmas Confection (Hardman Holidays Book 6) Read online

  No, she must focus on her business. Gratitude for his assistance was the only reason she’d invited Fred to lunch, or so she tried to convince herself. It couldn’t have anything to do with how much she’d missed seeing him all week, how much she’d longed for his smile or to hear his teasing laughter.

  “Would you like to go for a walk?” Fred asked as she wiped her hands on a dishtowel just to give them something to do besides nervously twisting together. “It’s one of the prettiest afternoons I’ve seen this time of year. It seems a shame to spend it inside.”

  “A walk would be nice,” she said, moving over to the back door and pulling it open. She watched her brother throw the loop of rope over a branch and snag it tight. “Ethan, I’m going for a walk. I’ll be back before supper.”

  “Okay,” her brother called, not even looking up as she closed the door. She turned back to find Fred studying her. Something in his gaze, something that almost looked like admiration, made her breath catch as she strode to the front door. There, she reached for a hat hanging on the hooks by the door, but Fred grabbed her hand before she could pin it on. “Come on, Elsa. Today isn’t meant for hats or gloves or formality. It’s meant for fun.” He removed his own hat and left it on a hook before pushing her outside. For good measure, he yanked off his suit coat and tossed it on a hook next to his hat before pulling the door closed and cupping her elbow in his big, warm palm.

  “Fred! I should…” His rascally smile and the light glowing in his eyes derailed her train of thought. All she wanted, all she wished, was to spend time with him.

  “You should stop fussing and enjoy this beautiful day,” Fred said, guiding her down the sidewalk. Rather than turn to head into the heart of town, he went the opposite direction.

  In a few blocks, they were beyond the clusters of houses and surrounded by pastures and trees. Fred was right. The day was one of the loveliest she’d ever seen. The leaves on the trees boasted the most vibrant jewel tones, swaying crimson, gold, auburn, and vermillion in the slight breeze. Bushes bedecked in ruby tones looked as though autumn fairies had swathed them in fiery finery.

  “This way,” Fred said, clasping her hand in his and leading her off the road onto a hidden path. As they walked, the trees loomed above them in a kaleidoscope of brilliance while leaves covered the ground like a carpet.

  Redolent with the aromas of fresh-cut wood, pears, and spice, the air tasted good enough to eat and made her think of Christmas. How wonderful it would be to traverse this same path on a quiet winter afternoon. She could picture snow covering the trees and ground while the scent of pine tantalized the air. Closing her eyes, she drew in a breath.

  She opened her eyes to find Fred giving her an indulgent smile. “Glad you came?” he asked.

  “Oh, yes,” she whispered, squeezing his hand as he led her deeper into the trees. “Where are we going?”

  “Somewhere special,” Fred said, lifting her over a fallen log then taking her hand again. “Somewhere I used to go often when I wanted a quiet place to think.”

  “I don’t picture you as the silent, philosophical type,” she said, casting him a saucy grin as he swung her over a large rock. It would have been easy enough for her to walk around it, but who was she to deny either of them the pleasure of him lifting her up. He acted as though she weighed no more than a sack of feathers as he clasped her waist between his big hands then set her down. Elsa knew that wasn’t true.

  Fred lightly held her hand in his as he continued down the path. Abruptly, he stopped and held his finger to his lips then pointed into the trees. Elsa watched as five deer lifted their heads and stared at them. A large buck took a step forward, as though warning them to keep on moving.

  “Oh, he’s so… majestic,” Elsa whispered to Fred as they watched the deer turn around and bound through the trees in retreat.

  “He’s lucky I don’t have my rifle with me,” Fred mumbled. “It’s not often you see a big ol’ buck like him with five points on one side and four on the other.”

  Elsa smacked his arm. “How could you shoot something that amazing?”

  “You didn’t seem to mind trading baked goods for venison a few weeks ago, did you? Where do you think venison comes from?” Fred asked as they continued on their way.

  Elsa had no rebuttal for his comment. She did enjoy venison, but growing up in a city, she hadn’t given a thought to where it came from. After seeing the deer, she wasn’t sure she could enjoy it anymore. Then again, she knew beef came from cattle. She also loved bacon, so she supposed it was the same principal. Still the deer looked so wild and free, it was a shame to think of anyone hunting them.

  “I’m glad you didn’t have your rifle,” she said and fell silent. He glanced at her and rolled his eyes, but refrained from saying anything further.

  They rounded a bend shrouded in trees. When they made it around the curve in the path, Elsa couldn’t suppress a gasp. Trees boasting the most vibrant hues of autumn flanked a wide, gurgling stream. The colors reflected in the water appeared like a painting she’d once seen on display.

  “Oh, Fred,” she breathed on a whisper. “It’s magnificent.”

  “We can sit down a while before we head back.” Gently tugging on her hand, he led her to a bench made from stacked flat stones. Gallantly, he draped a clean white handkerchief over one end for her to sit on.

  Summoning her most elegant manners, Elsa gracefully lowered herself to the seat. She’d barely settled her skirts when she jumped up screaming after a blur of brown fur skittered across her lap. She engaged in a most unlady-like impromptu dance of stamping her feet, swishing her skirts, and spinning around.

  Fred caught her in his arms, unable to subdue his chuckles even while he attempted to provide assurance she remained unharmed.

  When his shoulders stopped shaking in mirth, he glanced down at her. The hostile glares she shot him caused his square jaw to clench as he struggled to hold back the laughter.

  “I do not find anything amusing about some wild beast charging across my lap.” Indignant, she huffed and would have marched back home, but Fred continued to keep his arms around her, holding her close.

  In fact, she couldn’t think of anywhere she’d rather be, but he certainly didn’t need to know it. The warmth radiating from him combined with his teasing fragrance rendered her limbs languid.

  “It was just a chipmunk. I sometimes leave bread crusts or seeds for them,” Fred said, tipping his head toward the base of a tree where a little brown-striped rodent watched them. “It won’t hurt you.”

  “I’ll have to take your word for it,” Elsa said, experiencing a bereft feeling when Fred turned her loose and motioned to the bench. Hesitantly, Elsa took a seat and glanced back at the chipmunk. It chattered at her then disappeared around the base of the tree.

  “He’s probably more scared of you than you are of him.” Fred leaned forward with his elbows braced on his knees as he stared at the color-dappled water.

  “I somehow doubt that is possible,” Elsa said in a haughty tone. The humor of the situation got to her, though and she couldn’t help but giggle.

  Fred raised an eyebrow and looked at her, then joined in her laughter.

  When they quieted, Elsa sat and soaked in the surroundings. The idyllic spot provided a perfect place to delve into one’s thoughts or be soothed by nature. She pictured Fred as a young boy finding this spot near the stream where he could be alone to think. He most likely hauled the flat rocks upon which they sat and stacked them to make the bench. No one could say Fred was lazy. He was the hardest working man in town.

  “I’m glad you brought me here, Fred. It’s amazing and just what I needed today.”

  He smirked. “Even with the chipmunk?”

  She smiled, leaned back, and closed her eyes, soaking in the sunshine on her face. “Perhaps not the rodent, but definitely the peacefulness of this place.”

  “You should see it in the winter. It’s spectacular when the trees are frosted and the water is
frozen.” He picked up a pinecone and tossed it into the water. The ripples spread through the reflected trees, making it look as though water trickled over wet paint.

  “I imagine it’s lovely with each season,” she said, watching a bird fly into a nest in a tree on the opposite side of the stream.

  “It is.”

  “Who’s property are we on?” she asked. “Do they care that we’re here?”

  Fred shook his head. “No. The owner doesn’t care. It’s part of the land Luke Granger owns. I used to sneak out here without permission when I was younger. One day, Luke found me out here and blistered my ears about respecting property that didn’t belong to me, but he did tell me I could come anytime I wanted to.”

  “He and Filly seem like such a fun couple.” Elsa had often admired how much in love the banker seemed to be with his lovely wife. They had two adorable children and, from all appearances, a perfect life.

  “They are a fun couple, then again, so are Blake and Ginny, Alex and Arlan, and Tom and Lila.”

  Elsa looked over at him. “They’re all like family to you, aren’t they?”

  Fred nodded, but didn’t elaborate. Instead, he stuck his hand in his pocket and pulled out something he rubbed between his fingers.

  “What is that?” Elsa asked, leaning closer, trying to see what he held.

  “Oh, it’s nothing,” he said, closing his fist.

  “Please? Let me see. I’ve noticed you often rub something between your fingers when you think no one is watching.” Elsa spoke bluntly in spite of her intentions to keep her thoughts to herself.

  Fred turned over his hand and slowly opened his tightly closed fist to reveal what, at first glance, appeared to be a coin. Elsa lifted it from his palm and discovered it was a type of metal token. One side bore an embossed moon and stars while the other side had the word believe engraved upon it in a decorative script.

  “This must represent something special to you,” she said, placing it back on his palm.

  He nodded and slipped it back into his pocket.

  When he remained silent, she lightly bumped his side with her elbow. “Well, don’t hold back on me now. Why is it special?”

  “Alex Guthry gave that to me at what was admittedly the lowest point in my life. She told me her grandfather gave it to her along with a reminder to always believe in herself and in others. Alex encouraged me to do the same.”

  “That was kind of her.” Elsa smiled at Fred, sensing there was much more to the story, but she’d pressed enough for one day. If Fred wanted her to know more, he’d tell her. She had no idea why she was so fascinated with learning more about him. Mentally, she listed what she did know about him: Fred could be full of laughs and jovial. He appeared at nearly every town function and was often the first to lend a hand when someone needed assistance. Yet, for his friendly manner, she knew there was a guarded, private side to him no one worked their way past.

  “Alex is an extraordinarily kind woman,” Fred said then turned his gaze out across the stream.

  In companionable silence, they sat for a while, resting in the welcome warmth of the sun as well as the warmth of friendship before Fred finally rose to his feet and held out his hand to Elsa. “I suppose I better get you back home before your brother thinks you’ve been kidnapped.”

  Elsa laughed. “Ethan’s so busy practicing to be a cowboy, I doubt he’d notice until tomorrow morning when I wasn’t at the bakery.”

  “What do you mean practicing to be a cowboy?” Fred asked as he tucked the handkerchief she’d sat on in his pocket and gave her his hand. Together, they meandered back along the path toward the road.

  “Ever since he helped Luke the other day, Ethan has decided he missed his life calling to be a rancher.” Elsa giggled. “He’s even been trying to walk with a swagger, but don’t tell him I told you.”

  Fred shook his head. “I promise I won’t tell. Did he buy a cowboy hat, too?”

  “He certainly did. I think it was the biggest one in stock at Bruner’s Mercantile. Ethan gets bored with the bakery and needs something else to focus on once in a while.”

  “What about you?” Fred asked, lifting her up over a log and setting her down on the other side before his long legs stepped over it and he took her hand again. “Do you get bored with the bakery?”

  “Never. I love it. One of the reasons I was excited to move here is because I can bake what I want. At home, my parents think we shouldn’t experiment with new recipes, but continue making what we’ve always made. Here in Hardman, I can make whatever I like. If it doesn’t sell well, I can try something else. Of course, we’ll always have certain items, like bread and rolls, cinnamon buns, and such. But I like trying new cake and cookie recipes, experimenting with pastry crust variations.” Elsa sighed with contentment. “Moving here was the best thing that ever happened to me, even if Ethan doesn’t share my enthusiasm.”

  “Does he do much of the baking?”

  “No. Ethan keeps the books, which is a huge help because I hate doing bookwork. He does all the clean up, too. I understand why he gets bored, but this isn’t the first time he’s become infatuated with something. Two years ago, he was convinced he wanted to leave the business to become a mason after a friend asked for his help one afternoon. A year before that, he thought he wanted to open a butcher shop.” Elsa grinned at him. “By the time Christmas rolls around, he’ll have forgotten all about wanting to be a cowboy and moved on to some other interest.”

  “There are worse things than riding a horse all day and herding cows,” Fred said, stepping out from the trees and turning onto the road that would take them back to Hardman.

  “You sound as though you’ve done that before.”

  “I have. In the past five years, I’ve worked just about every job you could do around this area. Luke taught me about ranching, Arlan about banking and finances, and Blake helped me learn about horses and carpentry. James Grove gave me lessons in farming and repair work, like nailing down shingles and fixing a leaky pump. Douglas at the livery taught me blacksmithing. I’ve learned all about turning logs into lumber from Mr. Dillon. Once in a while I help the sheriff as a deputy, too, because he helped me learn some very necessary skills.”

  “Why?” Elsa asked, curious what drove Fred to work so hard and turn his hand to so many things.

  “My mother sheltered me to the point I was basically hopeless and helpless. My father never taught me anything useful, any skills a man needs to know, so after he… left, some of the men in town were good enough to teach me what I needed to know. Luke, Arlan, and Blake were especially helpful. I even spent some time with Pastor Dodd.”

  Elsa’s eyebrow quirked upward. “You considered going into the ministry?”

  Fred chuckled. “No, not even for a minute, but Chauncy thought some time spent learning right from wrong and following what he calls the golden rules for living would be good for me.”

  “I see,” Elsa said, although she didn’t. Had Fred truly grown up not knowing right from wrong? Hadn’t his mother taught him those things?

  More confused than ever, she remained silent as they made their way back to her home.

  “I’ll just grab my coat and be on my way,” Fred said as Elsa opened the door and stepped inside.

  “Oh, please don’t go yet, Fred. Please come in and a slice of pie.”

  “I really should get going.” He lifted his coat and hat from the hooks by the door and backed outside. “I wouldn’t want…”

  “Hey, El, are you back?” Ethan called as he hurried into the entry. “Oh, Fred. I just warmed up the pie and cider is piping hot. Want to join us? Maybe you can give me some pointers about riding. Luke said you’re a good cowhand and I want to know…”

  Elsa rolled her eyes and Fred winked at her as he stepped back inside and followed Ethan to the kitchen.

  Chapter Six

  Fred stepped out of the sheriff’s office and yanked on his leather gloves. He’d stopped in to check the work schedule to see
what days the sheriff needed him the following week. Grateful for the free time to finish a few projects at home, he strode along the boardwalk thinking of the work awaiting him. His eyes widened and he stopped to join others in gawking when a bright red six-passenger stagecoach rolled down the street. The evening stage wasn’t due for hours, so he knew this had to be none other than the famous DeMoss family’s personal Concord coach.

  Talented with both writing and performing songs, the DeMoss family billed themselves as lyric bards and traveled around the country performing a variety of instruments, although they considered Oregon their home.

  With cases strapped to the top of the stagecoach and happy faces peering out the stage windows, Fred waved to the family in greeting.

  The stage rocked to a stop in front of Bruner’s Mercantile. Soon, people anxious to see and hear the family perform surrounded them.

  Drawn in by the excitement, Fred found himself offering the group directions to the boardinghouse where they’d stay while they were in town. He followed as the stage pulled up in front of the boardinghouse then helped the family unload. After carrying the last case inside, he offered to drive the stagecoach to the livery. He and Douglas would care for the team of horses until the family was ready to leave.

  Fred knew most everyone in town would turn out for the performance. It wasn’t often renowned musical performers came to town, especially not of the DeMoss Family Lyric Bards caliber.

  The next morning, Fred toyed with the notion of inviting Elsa to the performance. Mindful doing so would be a foolhardy endeavor, he did his best to ignore the nagging little whisper in his head daring him to ask her.