Hat's Off! (Christmas Holiday Extravaganza) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright 2016 Nancy Bolton

  DEDICATION

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  HATS OFF!

  Nancy Shew Bolton

  Copyright 2016 Nancy Bolton

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  Cover Art by Joan Alley

  Edited by Susan M. Baganz

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are the product of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Published by Prism Book Group

  ISBN-10:1-943104-79-4

  ISBN-13:978-1-943104-79-6

  First Edition, 2017

  Published in the United States of America

  Contact info: [email protected]

  http://www.prismbookgroup.com

  DEDICATION

  I dedicate this book to God, who formed each of us with love, to my husband, family and spiritual brethren who walk with me in that love, and to all the people who long to be seen and appreciated and loved, and who struggle with past hurts. Love does indeed conquer all, and it always wins. Always.

  Chapter One

  Eastern Oregon 1920s

  Ouch. Drat this needle. Kay clenched her jaw at the sharp pinprick in the flesh of her thumb. She dropped her sewing on her lap. After pressing a hanky against the injured spot, no tell-tale red showed. Good. It wouldn’t do to let any blood seep onto the fabric.

  She peeked over at Philip, expecting him to chide her in his big-brother voice, nagging her to use her thimble. But no, his intent focus was bent upon the hat he fashioned, his long agile fingers shaping the brim. She stared down at the shirt sections in her lap. Who was this one for? A resigned sigh escaped her. She’d grown so scatterbrained lately.

  Time to take a minute’s break, anyway. She shifted position in her chair and glanced out the front window of their shop to indulge her favorite visual pastime. A pleased smile at the refreshing view relieved some of the stored work-tension in her shoulders.

  The Blue Mountains rose up in the distance, lit by the late afternoon sun. Even after a year of staring at them during her breaks, the pleasure they gave her hadn’t dimmed. Someday, she’d travel to them, just for the adventure. Maybe climb them all by herself and wander around for uncounted days, enjoying their unfamiliar, remote vistas. They seemed to call to her, hinting at a serene stillness waiting in their sheltering heights.

  Serenity. Silence. But the mountains might not be a peaceful spot, with swarms of lumberjacks in the foothills. Philip didn’t let her wait on them or on the cowboys who came in to shop and place orders. He wrote down their shirt or hat measurements, while Kay kept her eyes on her work, sometimes peeking around the sewing machine to take in their appearance.

  She liked listening to them talk with Philip, enjoying their interesting male conversations, so devoid of the usual family details she and her sister-in-law Maddie spoke about with other women. Men’s minds were intriguing—their spoken opinions often so different from hers—and surprising.

  Through the window, she spotted Eddie approaching. Big and solid, like most of the lumberjacks, he halted to peer in the window. She swerved her gaze back to her sewing and popped the thimble on her throbbing thumb.

  Eddie entered and made his way to the counter. Philip stopped work on the hat, adjusted his shirtsleeves, and voiced a greeting. His tall, slender frame stood poised to wait on his customer.

  “Howdy, folks.” Eddie’s voice held a pleasing, raspy quality.

  Kay gave him a quick nod and listened to the two men exchange pleasantries while her mind lapsed into thoughts about the latest Edna Ferber story she’d started. As soon as she could take a longer break, she’d discover what would happen next to Selina. Such a big change for her to go from a city like Chicago and find herself—

  “Isn’t that right, Katherine?”

  Philip’s use of her full name jolted her out of her thoughts. “I’m sorry. What did you ask me?”

  She glanced up to see Philip and Eddie staring at her.

  Philip gestured at Eddie. “His shirts should be ready in two days, right?”

  She nodded and gave the strapping man a polite smile. Eddie grinned at her and flashed his usual admiring glance before returning his attention to Philip. She was quite aware of why he came in so often, and it wasn’t only for shirts or hats.

  Kay picked up her sewing and hummed a tune in her mind while she focused her eyes on the shirt seam. Eddie soon took his leave, and at the sound of Philip’s drawn-out sigh, she glanced up to meet his bemused expression. “What?”

  He crossed his arms, and leaned back against the wall. “You know what.”

  She continued to sew. “I can’t help it, Phil. It wouldn’t be fair to him.”

  “It’s not right to keep taking shirt orders from him, either. I appreciate the business, but the poor fellow must be spending all his money in here.”

  “Maybe he likes our shirts.” She knew what a ridiculous comment that was even before Philip snorted.

  He raised an eyebrow at her. “We both know what he likes.”

  Her lips pressed together while she breathed out. She stopped sewing and met his eyes. “I don’t want to encourage him. He should court someone who wants to keep company with him. I’m fine as I am.”

  “No, you’re not. And Eddie’s a nice man. He’d be good to you.”

  Why bother arguing? She shrugged and resumed her work, trying to relax back into thoughts of the Ferber story. Images of Eddie now intruded. He was a polite, decent-looking fellow. A solid and steady man. But without love or even attraction, she just couldn’t picture marriage with him. A life with him would be tedious, at best. Why doom herself to that when she’d experienced so much more with Elliot?

  Memories of her husband’s embrace made her eyes close. How precious every memory was, but how painful. She closed off the mental images and concentrated on the shirt in her hands. Besides, maybe she wouldn’t stay in Oregon. What sounded like an adventure last year wasn’t living up to that expectation.

  To be sure, Oregon was breathtaking, and the long winter didn’t bother her. They were similar to the winters in her part of New York. But the hope that her past would recede and something vital and new might change her internal world…well, that had faded. So far, she was much the same inside and probably always would be. Perhaps she’d go back to live with Mother in Seneca Falls.

  Philip’s voice lightened. “Oh, boy. Here comes Fergus.”

  She glanced up, a smile already on her face. Fergus blew in like a whirlwind and doffed his cap. “Howdy, folks. I smell snow out there.” He grinned at them and closed the door. So much vitality was packed into his short, sturdy body.r />
  Replacing his hat on tumbled reddish- brown locks laced with whispers of gray, he rubbed his hands together. “I could do with a blast of early winter. Slows down the cows. And the cowboys.”

  He laughed and strode to the counter. “Of course, most of ʼem are headed south for the season, but I still got to keep my eye on the ones who stay and like to argue on a long winter night.”

  Philip chuckled. “I don’t guess any of them can get a leg up on you in an argument.”

  He puffed out his chest and tapped a finger on himself. “No, sir. Mother always said I’d make a thunderstorm shiver if I had a mind to.”

  His infectious laughter tickled her inside, and Kay joined their merriment. Sparkling blue eyes wreathed with laugh lines gave a hint at his good nature. He chuckled again and raised an eyebrow. “But I can’t hold a candle to my Megan. She runs that ranch kitchen better than a general.”

  “Well, from what I’ve been told, you both do a fine job,” Philip said. “I don’t hear cowboys complaining about your ranch, or the food, either.”

  Fergus leaned an arm on the counter. “And you’d hear plenty if they didn’t like it. Except from Aaron. He hardly speaks.”

  Philip nodded. “Don’t think he’s said much more lately than yes or no.”

  Fergus shook his head. “A man like him, good hard worker in his thirties, you know, I used to think he’d make a good foreman, but he doesn’t want any part of that job. No, sir.” Fergus grinned. “He’d have to talk then, wouldn’t he?”

  “Sure would.” Philip spread his palms on the smooth wood of the counter and rubbed a thumb along the edge. “He certainly doesn’t live up to his name. Moses needed Aaron with him so he’d do the talking for him. He’d have been in a heap of trouble if he brought our Aaron with him.”

  They exchanged a laugh, and Fergus handed a list to Philip while Kay’s thoughts wandered to Aaron and some of the other cowboys. Most of them were spare with words, like Aaron. But Kay always got the impression that Aaron wasn’t quiet out of a placid nature, or because his thoughts were few. His eyes suggested an active mind, one that seemed restless or troubled. Though he made her rather nervous, his silence interested her.

  One time, while Philip measured Aaron’s shoulders and said he had a healthy width, Aaron countered with, “Makes for a bigger target, you know.”

  Philip only murmured in response, but Kay found herself pondering the meaning long after he’d left. Her overactive imagination fed off the odd comment. Bigger target?

  For what? Or who? Maybe he meant cattle rustlers or horse thieves. But was that still a concern? After all, it was the twenties now, not the Wild West anymore. What would he be a target for? Packs of wolves or coyotes? Bears? Did he have enemies?

  Images of him withstanding various threats gave way to wondering if he lived with fear. He didn’t seem to be fearful, but why else would he make such an odd comment? Too bad she couldn’t ask. Men didn’t appear to like questions. Even Elliot had acted annoyed if she asked too many. But, lying together at night, he confided deep feelings to her.

  A well of grief began to rise at that memory, but she gulped it down and took in some breaths. Fergus strode to her work table and plopped down a glass jar, a wide grin on his face. “This is just for you, from Megan, to show her appreciation for helping her serve at the church fund-raiser. It’s her special apple butter.”

  The jar was smooth and cool in her hands as she turned it and admired the luscious brown contents, flecked with spice. “Please tell her thank you so much. What a treat.”

  Fergus patted her shoulder, and some of his happy energy transferred to her, dispelling the hovering sadness. How suited Megan and Fergus were, both chock full of life and vigor, even after raising their three boys. Well, three men now, all taller than their father. If he’d lived, maybe Elliot would’ve given her sons or daughters to love.

  The sadness threatened to return. She needed to stop these useless thoughts. The move to Oregon should have jolted her out of ruminating on the past. Only a ninny would continue pining at memories. Mother always said life moves forward. So it should. What else was there?

  The door opened, and Fergus turned and clapped his hands. “There’s my firstborn.”

  Patrick entered, bringing a blast of chilly air into the shop. A handsome grin played around his lips as he nodded to Kay and Philip.

  Fergus gestured at his son. “Take a gander at this fine fellow. Tall, like his Scottish grandpa. And just as stubborn.”

  Patrick shook his head. “No, Papa. Mother says the stubborn comes from my Irish side.”

  Fergus laid a hand on his chest and widened his eyes. “Me? Stubborn?”

  Shared laughter erupted, which Fergus joined. Patrick stepped to the counter and removed his cap. “Measure me for a top hat, Mr. Moore.”

  Philip stared at him, mouth ajar.

  Patrick guffawed. “For my wedding. I want to be fancy for my Romayne.”

  Kay and Philip exchanged a glance, brows raised. Philip cleared his throat and said, “If you say so. I’ve been out here three years, and never had a request for one of those.”

  He grabbed his measuring tape, and Kay found herself wondering how hard it would be to fit the silk lining into a top hat. Oh, dear. What if she ruined the hat somehow? Maybe she’d tell Philip he’d better do the whole thing. After all, a wedding hat needed to be done perfectly.

  Philip would say she’d manage it. He always said that. When Elliot died, he told her she could bear it. And Philip was the one who declared Oregon would do her good, so here she was, a whole country away from New York, about to be expected to put a silk lining into a top hat.

  Darn him.

  Why did she always listen? A sudden image of herself dropping her sewing and tramping out the door and into the hills almost made her laugh out loud.

  Phillip jotted on a ledger and glanced up at Patrick. “Black or gray?”

  “Hmm. Wonder what my bride would say?” Patrick winked at his father. “Best go traditional, I suppose. Black.”

  Fergus grinned at Patrick. “Won’t you be the quite the proper groom, sporting a top hat?”

  “Romayne and her mama are busy making plenty of lace for her dress and veil, so I figured to look fancy right along with her.”

  Philip nodded. “Good attitude, Pat. A couple needs to start out in tandem, like a matched set of horses.”

  Fergus guffawed and slapped a hand on the counter. “That makes a pretty picture. Pat and Romayne in harness together, trotting down the road.”

  Kay laughed along with them, and her sister-in-law Maddie stepped into the room, a smile on her lips. “I thought I heard Fergus out here.”

  Fergus doffed his cap. “And so you did. My Pat is ordering a top hat for the wedding.”

  Maddie’s eyes widened. “We haven’t done one of those since New York.”

  Fergus stuck out his chest. “Well, we can wear some fine feathers out here, too.”

  “Yes, indeed,” Maddie said. “Not much longer now ʼtil the ceremony.”

  A slight blush colored Patrick’s cheeks and Fergus slapped his son’s back. “Look at him, will you? Guess he’s ready to be married.”

  Kay’s cheeks heated, while Maddie dropped her gaze, and Fergus said, “Sorry ladies.”

  Philip laughed. “It’s all right, Fergus. We’re all adults here.”

  “Just the same, Megan always tells me to mind my words in mixed company.” He gave a slight bow to Kay and Maddie. “No harm done, I hope.”

  Kay smiled. “Of course not.”

  Patrick cleared his throat, and nodded toward the window. Large flakes of snow began falling fast. “Let’s head home, Pa. Ma’ll be wanting her supplies unloaded off the wagon before they get covered in snow.”

  “Okay, son.”

  Phil grinned. “Why don’t you buy a truck, Fergus?”

  Fergus pulled a grimace. “Can’t count on ʼem like you can horses and wagons. Trucks’ll never do for ranchers the wa
y a horse and wagon will.”

  “That’s not what the truck salesmen say.”

  “They can say what they want. Don’t make it true.” He and Patrick headed for the door. “So long, folks.”

  The three called their farewells. Philip grinned. “Guess he was right about the weather.”

  All of them resumed their tasks. How quiet the shop was now. The snow came down in silent, steady waves outside the window.

  Chapter Two

  Something woke Kay. She sat up and cocked her head, listening. A loud cough sounded on the street below her upstairs bedroom. The unmistakable sound of someone retching made her swallow and grimace in sympathy. She picked up the small wind-up clock on her nightstand and tilted its face toward the dim moonlight from her window. She peered at it, barely making out the time. Eleven forty.

  Rising, she grabbed her shawl from the chair near her bed, wrapped it around her shoulders, and stepped to peer outside. Moonlight shone on the figure of a man leaning against the outer shop wall. He doubled over and vomited again, a dark blotch appearing in the snow near his feet. Ugh. Poor fellow. Sick and all by himself.

  He staggered a few steps before slumping down to a sitting position, head down, and remained still. She waited, but he didn’t move. Good heavens, he’d freeze to death if he fell asleep out there. She dropped the shawl, donned her thick robe, and rushed down the stairs to the shop. She’d better rouse him, find out whether he was able to walk, and send him on his way.

  If that didn’t work, she’d need to wake her brother and have him haul the man home, wherever that was. Philip hated to be woken up, but she couldn’t help that. She peeked out the door. “Hey, mister. Are you awake?”

  No answer. She raised her voice. “Mister. Wake up. You’ll freeze out there.”

  His head tilted upward. “Don’t care,” came the low response.

  She frowned. Don’t care? What was wrong with him? “Look, mister, you need to go home. Get up.”

  “Home.” The word issued out as a croak. A bark of a laugh sounded from him, and he half-whispered, “No such thing anymore.”