Too Old for Christmas by Zina Abbott

Author:Zina Abbott [Abbott, Zina]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: clean and wholesom, historical romance, romance, American historical romance, sweet romance, Christmas, historical western romance
Publisher: Robyn Echols
Published: 2015-11-18T06:00:00+00:00

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Chapter 6

~o0o~

B

y the next Sunday, Sean and Ona had settled on a routine. Ona cooked supper every night which he ate at her table, sending home with Sean in a lunch pail his portion for dinner the next day. Two of the other single men on the job, realizing Sean had started bringing appetizing-smelling, although pureed-looking food, began to tease him. Sean laughed them off, telling them it was his mules earning their keep now he was doing construction in town instead of him taking the pair out hauling freight.

On payday, Sean settled his bill at the butcher and mercantile, surprised at how little Ona had charged to his account during the week considering the meals he had eaten each day. While at Magendie’s, he bought two pair of red flannel underwear, intent on contracting with Ona to start doing his laundry.

On Sunday, rather than wait for the boys, by noon Sean, wearing the new wool shirt he had not donned since the previous Sunday, stood at Ona’s door in the cool breeze and sunshine of the November day and called out to announce his arrival. Benjy pulled the door open, a grin splitting his face.

“You came early, Mr. Flood. I’m still helping Ma set the table.”

“’Tis good you be helping your ma, Benjy.” Sean felt himself suffused in heat from the stove as he stepped into the tent cabin, almost wishing he had worn a lighter-weight shirt. Then he turned to his smiling hostess standing next to the stove. “Good day to you, Mrs. McNair.”

“And Jesse’s chopping more kindling,” Benjy continued, unwilling to give up being the center of attention. Sean forced his eyes away from Ona and gave Benjy an approving nod.

Sean heard the kick at the bottom of the door. He twisted around to open it to allow Jesse with his arms full of firewood to enter. The boy dropped the stack next to the stove.

“Hear you be chopping kindling by yourself now, Jesse.”

“Yes, Mr. Flood. Ma said it’s all right, now you showed me how.”

“’Tis good, Jesse. Sure I am ‘tis a big help to your ma.”

As soon as Sean saw Ona wrap a cloth around the handle of the heavy cast iron frying pan on the stove, he stepped over to take it from her. “Where be you wanting it, Mrs. McNair?”

“On the trivet on the table.” Upon looking over and seeing no trivet, Ona quickly reached for the metal ring and a cloth pad which she set in the center of the table. She stepped outside and brought in a crockery pitcher filled with milk and covered with a cloth which she set at the corner of the table next to where she had seated Sean the previous week.

After the prayer on the food, Sean gave in to his instinct to visibly inhale the aroma of the food before him. “What delight have you prepared for us this day, Mrs. McNair?”

“Finely diced pork in mashed potatoes with sauté onions and steamed apples on the side.

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