The River Girl's Christmas (Texas Women of Spirit Book 4) by Angela Castillo Page A

he’d show me some kitties in the barn today,” said Patsy, as she dusted flour over the table. “He said they were just born.”
    “How sweet,” said Zillia a bit absentmindedly. The caramel on the stove was almost thickened, and she had to stir it at just the right speed or it would burn. 
    “I have a kitty,” said Patsy. Her eyes widened. “I have a kitty, and she’s at Granny’s house. I forgot all about her. Oh Mrs. Eckhart, what if she’s frozen to death?” Tears began to stream down the little girl’s face.
    “Oh, dear.” Zillia whisked the caramel off the stove, poured it in a pan, and put the kettle in the washbasin. She wiped Patsy’s tears with the corner of her apron. “How big is the kitty? Is it a baby?”
    Patsy snuffled. “No, she’s a big grown-up cat. She’s white and her name is Feather.”
    “In that case, she’ll probably be fine. If she’s lived at your granny’s this long, she probably hunts mice and has a nice cozy corner of the shed to sleep in.”
    Patsy’s face brightened. “That’s true. But what if she’s lonely? I bet she misses me.”
    Zillia patted her shoulder. “How about if we stop by your granny’s house tomorrow? The boys can help you look for your kitty. If you find her, you can bring her back here.”
    “That sounds good,” said Patsy slowly. She went over to the washbasin and washed her hands and face.
    Children’s troubles . Zillia shook her head and smiled. If only everything could be solved by a kitten, no one would have any problems left to face.
     
    ###
     
    That afternoon, everyone was once again assembled into Grandma Louise’s living room.
    Grandpa Walt brought down the old Swedish Bible, the fragile pages so thin they were almost translucent. Painstakingly, he translated the Swedish words into the age-old story, the birth of the Christ child, just as he did every Christmas Eve. Other family members owned English Bibles, but the story seemed more special this way. 
    After a few hours of talking and singing Christmas carols, Zillia noticed Margo’s eyes drooping. She went to a back bedroom and sank into the rocking chair with her baby, humming to her the same songs she used to sing to Orrie when he was an infant. The sky glowed red through the window. “Christmas Eve,” she sang quietly. “Something’s magical about Christmas Eve.”
    A gentle knock came at the door, and Soonie slipped in. She was back in her buckskins again, and her eyes were much brighter than the day before.
    “I hope I’m not disturbing your baby. Just wanted to spend a little time with you.”
    “Of course not,” Zillia said. “I’m glad you did.”
    Soonie sat down on the floor, hugging her knees to her chest like she always had when they were little girls. “Can you believe we’re so old? And married now?”
    Zillia shook her head. “I remember when I used to go to weddings with my parents when I was younger. I always envied the brides in their dresses and veils, with everyone making a fuss over them. I thought it would be forever before it was my turn. And now sometimes it seems like I’ve been married my whole life.” She sighed. “I love your brother, but sometimes he can be so stubborn!”
    Soonie played with the fringe on her skirt. “Yes, he’s already spoken to me about my ‘foolhardy decisions.’ One thing I know about Wylder, he only makes a ruckus over someone when he really cares about them. I know if I’m patient, God will show him the truth.”
    “I know,” said Zillia. “Patience is not one of my strengths.”
    “You had the patience to carry this little one for nine months.” Soonie touched Margo’s hand.
    “She was definitely worth the wait.”
    The door to the bedroom burst open. The baby started in Zillia’s arms and began to cry.
    “Orrie,” Zillia hissed. “What on earth? Margo was almost asleep.”
    Orrie’s eyes widened. “Sorry, Zillia, but Wylder told me to tell you. We can’t find Patsy. I think she ran