Sweetwater Springs Scrooge: A Montana Sky Holiday Short Story (The Montana Sky Series) Read Free Page B

along the property line when they’d first built here. The row of mature trees, a mixture of evergreens, maples, and silver birch enclosed the yard. The apple orchard further hid his home from his neighbors and the street. But even the tallest trees couldn’t block the sight of gray clouds billowing over the snow-covered mountains, heralding a coming snowstorm.
    Elias returned to the woodpile. Normally he detested chopping wood, an arduous but necessary chore. But today with Noah keeping him company, he stopped work every time the boy came near. For safety , he told himself, but really because the child fascinated him.
    Much like his grandmother, the boy didn’t have a silent bone in his body. He chattered away without needing input from Elias, talking about his friends, his teacher, what he learned in school, each of the townsfolk whose path he’d crossed that day, the cardinal flitting through the trees, and a deer he spotted on the edge of the forest.
    And Elias, who’d spent years in solitude, found he didn’t mind a bit. In fact, his ears sharpened each time Noah dropped a tidbit of information about his grandmother.
    He learned Marian had baked a peach pie and, according to Noah, the dessert sure was tasty. For the second day in a row, she’d taken soup to Widow Murphy. Noah let on that he suspected his grandmother didn’t even like the woman, not that she’d ever said so. But Mrs. Murphy had been mean to Noah one day, and Grandmother had given her the cold edge of her tongue. The boy said the latter to Elias, squaring his shoulders with obvious satisfaction.
    Elias had to grin at that. Marian was as even tempered a woman as you could find until you riled her, usually by crossing someone or something she held dear, and then look out. His grin slid away as he remembered their last argument.
    As if reading his thoughts, Noah asked, “Why didn’t you marry Grandma?” The boy looked up at him.
    The curiosity in those eyes that looked so much like Marian’s made it seem almost as if she’d asked Elias the question. He shot the boy a sharp look. “Where did you hear that?” He rested the axe head on top of a log and waited for the answer.
    Noah shrugged. “Talk here and there.”
    Ah, little pitchers have big ears. Elias leaned on the axe handle and decided to admit the truth. “My fool pride. My fool, stubborn pride,” he corrected. “Well, that’s what kept us apart. But what drove us there….” He’d had long years to ponder that very subject. “Your grandmother was frivolous and flighty and flirtatious.” Yet even as he said the words, meaning them as condemnation, he could feel a smile lift the corners of his mouth just thinking of young Marian. He hastily smoothed out his expression. “We argued about—”
    Noah’s brows pulled together.
    Elias belatedly recalled he was talking about the boy’s only kin and broke off his sentence. “Let’s just say, your grandmother had a tender heart. She was right generous with those in need, but also quick to waste money on ribbons and lace and…pets.”
    “Pets?” Noah rattled on without waiting for an answer. “Our cat died last month. Zephaniah, his name was.” His mouth turned down. “Grandmother cried.”
    His heart clenched at the thought of Marian being in pain, even over a cat. But then again, she had much to grieve over—a cat not the least of her losses. “Your grandmother was always partial to animals…cats.” And he hadn’t minded…much. Cats served their purpose in keeping down the vermin population if they lived in the barn. “Her cat wasn’t the problem. The lamb was.”
    Noah’s eyes gleamed. “Grandma had a lamb?”
    “Yes, and I thought Marian was foolish for how she doted on that creature.” Elias moved the axe and sank down on the log so he could be eye-to-eye with Noah. He took a breath, inhaling the scent of wood chips. “I made the mistake of siding with Marian’s father when he wanted to turn her lamb into