Christmas in Cowboy Country

by Janet Dailey

  There were only a few shreds of roast beef and a glob of mayonnaise on the roll, but the dog seemed interested. More than interested. When it got a whiff of what he held in his hand, the tail really got going.

  “Come and get it,” Marshall coaxed.

  The dog made a jump and fell back. Its eyes fixed on the prize, it backed up a few steps and crouched, then sprang high enough for Marshall to catch it by the furry scruff of its neck.

  He wrangled it over the side of the Dumpster and let it jump down the rest of the way. Wonder of wonders, it sat right down without him saying a word. Maybe without knowing it, he’d given the animal some kind of signal it recognized. Someone had trained it. Maybe the dog hadn’t been abandoned. Some practical joker could have put it into the empty Dumpster.

  “Who taught you to do that?”

  The dog grinned, letting its tongue loll out. Marshall was about to reward it with the sandwich when he realized his hand was empty.

  “Hey. That wasn’t polite.” The dog didn’t even bother to look guilty. If he got close, he would probably smell the mayo on its breath.

  “You’re pretty slick.” Its tail thumped on the ground; the dog seemed to agree. “So. Now that you’re out, what am I going to do with you?”

  He patted his pockets, looking for his phone, and remembered that he’d left it in the truck. Marshall walked back to it and the dog accompanied him, heeling like a champion. “Good dog,” he said.

  It wasn’t that obedient. Before he gave it a command, it jumped past him through the door he’d left open and landed on the front seat. “Hold on. I didn’t say you could do that. Now get down.”

  The dog eased down into the foot well and popped up its head, grinning again.

  “Not quite what I meant.”

  It stayed there for a few more seconds, then clambered back up onto the seat and stared out the passenger window like it had important work to do.

  Marshall looked it over. It was clearly some kind of stock dog mix, male, probably smart as hell and too adventurous for its own good. He ran his hands along its sides, feeling definite ribs, but it wasn’t starved. Just hungry. He picked up a back paw, noting the worn pads and a split nail. It had to have covered a lot of miles lately. No identifying tattoo that he could find. He doubted it was microchipped, but a vet would be able to tell him that.

  “Do you have a name? Are you someone’s dog?”

  The dog turned intelligent amber eyes on him, as if the answer was obvious. Yours, pal.

  “All right.” He sighed. “You need a bath and a collar, for starters. It’s late in the day, so you get a reprieve on the vet visit.” Marshall got into the truck and slammed the door.

  Chapter 7

  Annie had no luck finding Stone and didn’t particularly want to ask around. The gleaming black truck was nowhere to be found in Velde and she felt like a dope trying to play detective when she couldn’t find a man who was taller than anyone else in town and owner of a great big shiny new vehicle that had to have caused comment.

  By the next day, she sucked it up and contacted Nell.

  Not face to face. Annie could do without the tactfully phrased questions the saloon keeper was sure to ask. E-mail was preferable. She reached into her jacket pocket for her smartphone and scrolled through for Nell’s contact information, then typed a message that was too long to text.

  Hey. Do you happen to know where that guy is who came in the night we tested the Christmas lights? He left some surveying gear out at our place.

  Technically, that was true. There were neon pink ribbons fluttering in a few places along the fence lines where he’d set a marker in the ground below. Her sharp-eyed dad had spotted them, pitched a minor fit, and vowed to remove them all.

  Her phone chimed. Nell’s answer came surprisingly quickly. I sure do. Marshall Stone is renting the cabin on that land I own outside town. Nice to have such a responsible tenant. And so easy on the eyes. You should stop by and say hi, Annie.

  Did that qualify as a hint? It was more like a blunt instrument. Nell obviously thought Annie should be actively looking for l-o-v-e, not that it was any of her business.

  So he was at the cabin that Nell had recently restored with an eye to renting it during ski season. Annie hadn’t been out that way, hadn’t even thought of it because she hadn’t imagined Marshall Stone was in town for very long.

  Annie guessed there hadn’t been enough snow for Nell to find other takers. But she knew Nell wouldn’t have rented it without doing some kind of background check.

  Asking Nell about that wasn’t likely to get her much information. The saloon owner kept up with all the town doings and occasionally indulged in gossip like everyone else, but that didn’t mean she would reveal private information about a paying customer. Safe to assume that Stone had passed inspection with Nell, which was a good sign.

  For now, Annie just wanted to talk to him. That was all.

  She didn’t have his phone number or his e-mail. Nell hadn’t offered either. Another hint. All right. Annie would play friendly and stop by the cabin.

  Marshall opened the door about a minute after she knocked. Right away she saw why it took him so long. He had a black-and-white dog by the collar, some kind of herding breed by the looks of it and the level of energy. It seemed awfully interested in getting outside.

  “You have a dog?” she asked, surprised. “Down, boy.” She reached out a hand to pat the wriggling animal, who licked it eagerly.

  “Stop that, Rowdy. I found him in a Dumpster, got him out and got him shots and a checkup straightaway. Healthy and full of beans. The vet said he wasn’t microchipped. So the answer is yes, I now have a dog.”

  He’d rescued a stray. Uh-oh. Annie could feel the beginnings of a dangerous thaw in her mixed feelings about Marshall Stone. But until she knew more about who he was and what he was doing in Velde, it might be wiser to keep this supposedly social call on the short side.

  She stayed where she was until Marshall motioned her inside, still hanging on to the dog’s collar. “Come on in. He’s not completely nuts. But I’m getting there.”

  “He’s cute. Rowdy is a good name for him.”

  “He lives up to it, believe me.”

  Annie looked around the snug cabin, which was one big room, the old log walls sanded and varnished to a honey color and the restored chinking between them thick as sugar icing. The floor was made of split hackberry logs, worn smooth long ago and recently refinished. A crackling fire was visible through the isinglass panes of an antique woodstove in the corner. Super cozy.

  She checked out the rest of the décor, never having been inside, although she’d seen pictures. There were knickknacks on a whatnot shelf dripping with doilies and vintage books for après-ski entertainment. No television. Annie wondered if there was Internet access.

  Then she saw the router, also on a doily. All the modern conveniences with a touch of yesterday.

  Obviously Nell had intended the cabin to be a romantic retreat for vacationing couples. Unfortunately for Annie’s peace of mind, there was only one piece of furniture big enough for two people to sit on.

  A love seat faced the bed, which was a king-size affair of poufy, down-stuffed white supported by four tall posters carved from dark, heavy wood. It was the kind of bed you could run at and fling yourself into and not come up for days.

  Or, she thought uneasily, be flung into. By a man who had just swept you up in his arms and whispered all the things he was going to do to you over the course of a passionate weekend.

  Sign her up. As far as she could tell, Marshall Stone was single.

  Annie’d had a fair amount of experience with figuring out who was and who wasn’t. Some of the corporate types who took ski weekends liked to remove their wedding rings before they picked her for an instructor. “Didn’t fit into the ski gloves” was only one of the ridiculous reasons she’d heard. But she could tell. Married men tended to look guilty in advance, even if they never made a move.

&nb
sp; “Would you like some coffee?”

  Startled by the mundane question, Annie looked around at Marshall. “What? Oh—no, thanks.”

  He shrugged and bent down. The rattling sound of kibble told her he was filling the dog’s bowl.

  She wasn’t quick enough to move toward one of the high stools by the counter that served as a dining space. Marshall came out of the kitchenette and headed straight for the love seat.

  His eyes caught hers. He must have read her mind, because he went to the love seat and quickly rotated it to face the woodstove in the corner instead of the poufy bed.

  Annie breathed an inward sigh of relief. She took one side of the love seat. He took the other. Still and all, she couldn’t fight the feeling that she’d been put in the corner for having such wayward thoughts. But Marshall’s demeanor was matter-of-fact. He didn’t seem inclined to quiz her about why she’d stopped by or even how she’d found out where he was staying.

  “So where are you from exactly?” Annie began, trying not to sound too curious. “I never did ask.”

  “Garrick. Bet you never heard of it.” He smiled when she shook her head. “It’s a small town,” he said. “Smaller than Velde.”

  That wasn’t a whole lot of information, but it was a start. She found herself wishing he were a little more communicative. But Marshall Stone fit the profile of the strong, silent type. Annie searched her mind for other topics to discuss.

  “That’s quite a truck,” she said encouragingly. Men always liked to talk about their wheels.

  “Gets me where I’m going.” That was all he had to say.

  Another subtle inquiry shot down. But she wasn’t giving up.

  “Surveying must pay well,” she said.

  “I do all right.”

  She was stymied until she spotted a throw toy for Rowdy and played with him for a while. The dog’s antics filled the lull in the conversation. Marshall Stone just didn’t much like to talk about himself.

  But she hit another invisible wall when she brought up the town meeting.

  “So whose side are you on?” she asked, not really making light of it.

  “I’m not on anyone’s side. Why do you ask?”

  “You work for Pfeffer, and Shep Connally is his pal. Do you know anything about him?”

  There was the barest fraction of a pause.

  “I saw what you saw that night, Annie. I’ve never been personally introduced to the man, if that’s what you mean.”

  He’d sidestepped the question. She decided to let it go.

  “I know I should have told Chuck Pfeffer to shut up when he made that obnoxious comment about your father,” he said finally.

  “Well, yes. But I’m not going to be a sorehead about it indefinitely. Besides,” she added honestly, “I couldn’t say my dad is ever going to be your biggest fan.”

  “I suppose not.” Marshall had to smile. “He’s entitled to his opinion.”

  “Those surveyor flags on the fence line got him riled again.”

  “I have to leave them there until the job’s done, but I’ll be sure to take them down when I go,” Stone said agreeably.

  Like, she thought with a pang, he can’t wait to do that.

  “Chuck Pfeffer wants me to double-check my work, by the way.”

  “He’s your boss.” She found it in her heart to forgive him for that, sort of, without actually saying those exact words.

  “Only for this one job. And I’m pretty much finished.”

  “Which reminds me. I stopped by the town clerk’s office. She said you’d been in.”

  “Yup. Strictly routine. I have to check my measurements against the old ones. They’re almost always different.”

  The town clerk had said as much. Annie wasn’t sure how exactly to keep up her end of the conversation if they were going to talk about surveying.

  “I wouldn’t know. So how long have you been a surveyor?”

  “Years. All over the western states. I come and go. Never in one place for long.”

  Annie got the unspoken message. He wasn’t the kind of man who stuck around, even if he was single. The guardedness in his tone put her ever so slightly on edge.

  No holiday flings, she warned herself silently. She’d had exactly two in her life. The first, she’d chalked up to being only twenty and too naive to know better. The second, a few years later, she’d just been too lonely to say no. January could be cold in more ways than one.

  “How’d you get started with that? Do you work for a company?”

  He only nodded at first. Then, as if he’d read her mind, he filled her in.

  “I answered an ad right out of college. Assistant wanted, will train. I was the guy who held the pole. I learned on the job.”

  “How come you don’t have an assistant?”

  “I don’t really need one, not with electronic instruments. I use a remote to confirm the mark on the opposite side.”

  “Oh.”

  He didn’t seem to mind answering her questions. It took both their minds off what would have been too weird to talk about: that incredible kiss in the darkened doorway.

  For a long moment, she forgot the rest of the pointed questions she’d intended to ask him. To make matters worse, the dog jumped up and wedged himself between them on the love seat, looking from Marshall’s face to hers as if he was watching a tennis match.

  “Rowdy. Get down,” Marshall said after a while.

  “It’s all right.” Annie patted the dog’s silky fur. “I don’t mind him.” Truth be told, she was grateful for Rowdy’s presence. A staring dog made a pretty good chaperone.

  “Well, I do. Down.” The dog picked up on his stern tone of voice and jumped down, heading for a brand-new dog bed that she hadn’t noticed.

  Aww. Marshall had gone all out for the stray. “I hope Rowdy knows how lucky he is,” Annie said.

  “The word is spoiled. My guess would be he’s never slept on anything but a pile of feed sacks in a barn.” He shook his head and shot a look toward the dog that was a lot more affectionate than annoyed.

  Annie was definitely melting. Marshall turned and looked in her eyes. Maybe he really could read her mind, because he leaned over and kissed her. It was better than the first time. In fact, it was sublime.

  It just didn’t last long enough. His lips brushed her cheek, raising a scorching heat in her sensitive skin that had nothing to do with the fire. Then he claimed her mouth with his, teasing her sensually with his tongue as his strong hand slipped into her hair, stroking through her dark locks and finally coming to rest on the nape of her neck. Dreamily, Annie surrendered to the sensation, desiring nothing more than the feeling of his hand cradling her head while she kissed him back.

  She was expecting him to go further, to take her in his arms, but Marshall drew back. There was a hot gleam in his half-lidded eyes as he looked down at her. Curled on the love seat beside him, thinking about jumping into his lap, Annie only gazed back at him. Thinking hard. And trying not to think at all.

  She’d gone too far with him once already. Allowed him to hold her so close it had been difficult to breathe, let him caress her as gently and as roughly as the impulse demanded. Stayed in his arms in the restaurant doorway, kissing him like she’d never kissed any man. What should have been a deeply private encounter had essentially taken place in public, considering that anyone in town might have seen them.

  It wasn’t like she had anywhere private to go in Velde besides back to her parents’ ranch. Of course, she hadn’t known about the cabin he was renting at that point. Even though she loved being back on the home place, it was tough not being able to come and go without comment. But her shared condo in Aspen hadn’t really been all hers either, and she’d managed.

  Public or private, what had happened between her and Marshall Stone had been a first for Annie. He’d demonstrated the ultimate in skilled masculine passion, in fact, but he’d also been intensely focused on her pleasure.

  She’d found him powerfully
attractive, but maybe that was because she’d been single herself for longer than she’d ever thought possible.

  The romantic setting had weakened her resistance.

  What with the soft snow coming down outside the sheltered space and the way he looked at her just before he took her in his arms—damn. It didn’t really need to be analyzed. The heat of his sensual embrace and the bold way he kissed had made her forget about everything but him.

  “We probably shouldn’t do that too often,” he said in a low voice.

  “Maybe not.” She wriggled into a more upright position. “What were we talking about?”

  “Surveying.”

  “Right. You’re almost done but you’re not done. So why does it take so long to survey a piece of land?”

  “Many reasons. For one, you have to try to reconcile the past and the present, and that’s never easy.”

  Annie thought that could apply to a lot of things in life. She nodded.

  “Used to be stones and streams served to mark boundaries and corners. And trees,” he added. “But stones get buried and streams dry up and trees die or get hit by lightning or chopped down. Did your dad ever walk the lines with you, show you the landmarks of your ranch?”

  The ritual of walking the property lines was a long-standing custom in the country and generally something that men did. She didn’t ever recollect her mother going along.

  “He walked the lines with my brothers,” she replied. “Not me.”

  “Sounds about right. It was always a man’s job. Father and son, grandfather and grandsons. Just try talking to some of these old birds about what a satellite can see or how accurate measurements are now.”

  Annie bristled. “Excuse me?”

  “Whoa. I didn’t mean your dad. He was just concerned that I was on his property. He actually seemed to have a very good idea of where the lines were, considering your land hasn’t been surveyed since his grandfather’s day.”

  “Did he tell you that?”