by Janet Dailey
“Don’t do that,” Annie said. They didn’t have to whisper, what with the recorded carols playing over the sound system.
“Nobody saw me,” he reassured her. “There’s tons of people out there. And more coming in.”
“Good. I hope we sell out. More money for the youth group.”
“Can I go see?” asked the littlest boy.
“Nope. Everyone line up with their sheep. Miss Opal is here.”
The choir director had hurried into the backstage area, dressed in wine-red velvet, her hair beautifully styled.
Annie looked down at her jeans and plain sweater. Nothing special, but her clothes were comfortable and no one was going to see her.
Opal rehearsed Tina for a minute or so, then moved to the other young performers. She smoothed Jenny’s hair and bent down to pat little Zoe’s cheek. The sisters didn’t have speaking parts, but they had insisted on participating. The shepherds quit horsing around when Opal reached them.
“Hello, boys. How’s the flock? Are the new sheep cooperating?”
“Yes, ma’am,” they chorused.
“Well, they look great and so do you,” the choir director said approvingly. “Oh, I wish we could’ve had a camel,” she whispered to Annie. “Maybe next year.”
The children fidgeted as Opal made sure all was in readiness. They grew quiet when the lights on the other side of the curtains dimmed and the audience noise died down.
Opal stepped through and welcomed the audience. An unseen hand pulled the curtains apart and the pageant began.
The star entered and went up the ladder, sitting down on the platform atop it for her solo. Annie waited until Tina had sung the first few bars, then gave the first shepherd a little push. He was staring at the audience from the wings, transfixed, completely missing the choir director’s repeated cues.
“Go,” she whispered urgently. He got over his stage fright at the sound of her voice and led the others on without a hitch.
They rolled their sheep and stopped on a strip of colored tape as one, gazing up at the Star of Wonder. Tina was warbling away, obviously enjoying the spotlight. When she was done, the crew-cut shepherd held up his crook and said his line. “Behold!”
The word echoed to wild applause.
Annie was proud of them all. She peered out into the audience, seeing her parents and Nell, and Ed and Cilla Rivers, all sitting together. Ed had a mini video recorder up and running to get every minute of the performance, especially scenes that included Jenny and Zoe; she was sure of it. There were lots of other people she knew but hadn’t caught up with in a while. It was great. Nothing could spoil this night.
Tina finished her song and climbed down. The shepherds rolled on and out. Annie was supposed to meet them at the other side of the stage, but she didn’t get there in time.
She’d spotted Marshall Stone in the last row. There was an empty seat beside him. It was the only one left. The show had sold out.
Never in a million years would she have expected him to attend a family event like this. At least he was alone. For now, she told herself crossly, tearing her gaze away from his tall form. She ran around the back of the stage to get to her little guys before they scattered.
“How’d we do?” they whispered excitedly.
“Shh. You did great. Now we have to go out the back way very quietly and then you can watch the rest of the pageant.”
They peeled off the itchy burlap costumes they wore over their regular clothes and tossed them into the laundry sack Annie held out. “Stack the sheep over there,” she murmured, pointing. “Then follow me.”
They obeyed and trotted after her, not jostling each other too much and not making any noise. She led them outside the building through a narrow alley and in again, down a corridor that ran across the back of the hall. There was a low balustrade that separated the viewing area from the seats and they were happy to lean on it and watch their friends in action.
Annie watched Marshall. There was still no one in the seat next to him. One long arm was stretched over its back. She craned her neck. He’d put his Stetson on the empty seat, as if he was reserving it for whoever hadn’t showed.
She felt a certain pleasure in the fact that he’d been stood up and she hoped the redhead had done it. Stone seemed relaxed, though. His attention was on the performance, which he seemed to be enjoying completely.
The first act concluded to even more wild applause and the ceiling lights went on. Many in the audience stood and stretched. Some headed out to the front of the hall, where candy and snacks were being sold to raise additional funds.
Annie sat back when Marshall rose. He looked around at the doors, and the people passing in and out. Then his hat went flying.
Her eyes widened. Rowdy, sporting a huge red bow, had jumped up on the empty seat to greet some kids.
They patted him while he wagged his tail. Annie couldn’t help eavesdropping.
“Did he like the pageant?”
“He loved it. And thanks for the last-minute tickets, kids. Rowdy wasn’t expecting to be treated to a show.”
“How come he didn’t sit in the seat?” a young boy wanted to know.
“He generally prefers the floor,” was Stone’s answer.
“We thought he’d sit in it because he’s so famous,” a girl insisted. “After he herded us onto the float, everyone was talking about him. That’s why we stuck the red bow on him.”
“You hear that, Rowdy?” Marshall looked down at him. “You’re a VIP. I just get to hold your leash.”
Rowdy barked, only once, but heads turned.
“I think I’d better get him outside for the rest of the intermission,” Stone told the kids. They stepped back to let him proceed up the aisle. He turned sideways to ease out of the narrow space between seat rows and lifted his gaze.
“Hello, Annie.”
She waggled her fingers at him. “Hi.”
“We’re going out to, uh, get some fresh air. Want to join us?” Marshall asked.
“I have to stay with my group.”
“You can go with him,” a boy solemnly assured. “We’ll be good. We promise, right, guys?”
“Yeah.” Seven times over.
Annie shook her head. “Miss Opal would never let me hear the end of it if I left you angels to your own devices.”
“But we’re not angels,” the crew-cut boy protested.
“Exactly my point.” She turned to speak to Marshall again, but Rowdy had tugged him away.
The lights had dimmed when he returned and took his seat again. The dog lay at his feet, where Annie couldn’t see him.
The boys had joined their parents in the audience and she was alone in the same spot. He hadn’t looked up at her when he’d come back with Rowdy and she hadn’t really minded that much.
The pageant continued. Missed cues, forgotten lines, and kids stepping on each other’s costumes—none of it mattered, compared to the good time they were having and the magic they were creating. It was a night to remember for Velde’s youngsters.
And for Annie.
She moved back into the shadows and slouched way down in a different seat when she saw her mother and father get up after the finale, hoping they wouldn’t see her as they headed up the aisle. Annie had no idea what, if anything, her dad had told her mom about where she’d been the other night—the subject hadn’t come up. If they saw her in Stone’s vicinity, it just might.
They were picking their way through a crowd of people and didn’t look up. Annie could watch the scene without anyone seeing her. The same kids plus a few more of their friends were already clustered around Rowdy. Lou stopped and patted her husband’s arm.
“Oh, Ty, will you look at that adorable pooch. What would you say he is?”
Her father’s expert eye for animals got it right the first time. “Cattle dog, mixed breed. And I do believe that’s the one who was helping out at the parade,” Tyrell said. “Got his picture in the paper, herding kids.”
&n
bsp; So it wasn’t just the Internet outage Annie had missed out on. The local news had been tossed into the kindling box before she’d read it.
Her mother seemed to want to speak to Stone. The Bennetts stood in the aisle, the departing audience members flowing around them, until most of the kids drifted away. Tyrell exchanged a few words with Stone, and then, to her amazement, clapped him on the shoulder.
“I coulda used a dog like that for my three back in the day. You train him yourself?”
Stone chuckled and looked down at his dog, who had scrambled up from under the seat. “No, sir. I only found him a few weeks ago. He’d run off from somewhere and been on his own for a while. No microchip or tag. He made it pretty clear that I needed a dog.”
Tyrell smiled slightly.
“I knew from the looks of him that he was a herder,” Stone continued, “but not that he could do what he did. He’s the reason I got the last two tickets. The kids wanted to see him again.”
“Oh. Well, he got his picture in the paper.”
“Didn’t see it.”
“I’ll ask the gal in the Register office to send you a copy. Where are you staying?”
Her father already knew the answer to that question. Maybe he just didn’t want Stone to know how he knew.
“Nell Dighton’s rental cabin.”
Her father nodded. “Tell you what. I’ll drop it off at the saloon. She’ll make sure you get it.”
“Thanks,” Stone said. “I appreciate that. I don’t know how much longer I’ll be staying in Velde. Always a new assignment. I’m nearly done here.”
“Ah. I did want to ask you about that.”
Annie tensed. Her mother had let go of her husband’s arm and turned to chat with a friend.
“As you know, Chuck Pfeffer and I disagree about the precise location of the boundary line between our ranches. I believe I’m entitled to a copy of the surveyor’s report.”
“You certainly are. And I’ll make sure you get one.”
Tyrell harrumphed, as if he hadn’t anticipated instant cooperation. “Thank you. I look forward to reading it.”
Stone’s back was to her, but Annie guessed from the tone of his voice that he expected her father to be pleased with the results.
That was even more interesting than the fact that her father had sought him out and talked to him.
Annie edged farther back into the darkness. She ought to be able to sneak out and get in her truck before the two men were done talking; she might even get home first and hole up in her room where she could think.
The empty seat beside Marshall had been meant for Rowdy. But she’d still seen him with the redhead a few days ago. And now she knew for sure that he was leaving town. Probably before Christmas.
So that was that. A new year would begin and he would be long gone. Annie told herself not to care. But the thought of him leaving still hurt.
Chapter 21
“That’s a wicked cold wind out there. Just listen to it.”
Marta, the line cook on the night shift, unbuttoned her white kitchen coat and slung it over the back of a metal chair across from Bree Rivers.
Bree shook her head and dumped another teaspoon of sugar in the mug of creamy coffee in front of her. “I’d rather not.”
“No getting away from it,” Marta said. “Any more brew on the burner?”
“Yes. I just made a fresh pot. I’ll get you some.”
The winter gale howled outside the cinderblock building. Listening to it, Bree frowned. She felt sometimes like the North Dakota wind could get in and find her. It blew into her dreams and troubled her sleep.
“Thanks,” Marta said. “Black is fine.” She was a stocky woman with gnarled hands that had done too much kitchen work to ever be smooth again. Her hair had never gone completely gray, but silver threads showed in the dark braids wound around her head.
Bree drank the rest of her coffee quickly, then brought the mug with her for a refill, taking another from the china cart that had just been rolled out of the industrial dishwasher. She cradled it in her palm. It was nice and warm and heavy. The mugs were nearly unbreakable, like practically everything else in the barracks-style cafeteria attached to the huge kitchen at the oil field base.
It never closed. Cooks and dishwashers and buffet servers worked around the clock. There was always another shift of riggers and roughnecks slamming through the metal doors, muttering about being half starved and colder than a dead cow.
At least they appreciated the food, so long as it was plentiful and hot.
“Here you go.” Bree returned and set the filled mug in front of Marta.
The other cook wrapped both hands around it and inhaled the aroma. “I need this.”
“Don’t you go to bed right after your shift?” Bree asked.
“Not always. Sometimes I can’t. I think this is going to be one of those times. They’re stepping up production out there. More guys, longer chow lines, more stress. Everything aches.”
“Put a nice fat paycheck on the spot where it hurts the most,” Bree advised with a wry smile.
“You’re right about that. I saved most of mine.”
“I did too. Nothing up here to spend it on, right?”
“You got those two little girls to think about.”
“I miss them so damn much.” Bree’s hazel eyes were suspiciously shiny. “My cousin Cilla keeps me posted on everything they do. She and her husband never had kids, but they treat them like grandchildren. She’s my angel. I know they’re safe with her.”
“You wouldn’t stick around here if they weren’t,” Marta said.
“No.” Bree sighed. She took off her kitchen cap and smoothed her curly dark hair, then replaced the cap. “At least we can video chat, but it’s not the same.”
“I understand.” Marta nodded glumly. “Even though I never had kids and never wanted any.”
“It’s not like Cilla had to take them in, either. She’s a lot older than me and we’re only cousins by marriage. But she made me promise I wouldn’t stay here indefinitely.”
“Fat chance. Take the money and run,” Marta said, rubbing her lower back with one hand.
“I will. Soon as I have enough.”
Marta stood up wearily. “Think about it. Maybe you do.”
“Huh?”
“Go home for Christmas. You mean a lot more to those little sweethearts than the dough.”
“They only have me, Marta. And I don’t know when I’ll get a chance to earn this much money again.”
The other cook shook her head, not in the mood to argue.
“Want to see the Christmas pageant they were in?” Bree took out her smartphone and tapped the screen to bring up the video.
“Sure.”
“Jenny and Zoe aren’t in every scene, but—oh. There they are, rehearsing. And the young lady in back of them is Annie. They think the world of her. She’s the daughter of my cousin’s best friend—”
“Draw me a diagram,” Marta said gruffly. But she listened patiently as Bree kept right on explaining. Then she got up.
“Wait. You can’t go yet. There’s more,” Bree said. “A lot more.”
Marta seemed resigned to her fate. After a while she even thawed. “Aww. Those kids are so cute I can hardly stand it. And your little girls are the cutest of all. How can you bear to be away from them for so long?”
“I’m counting the days,” Bree replied. There was a stubborn set to her tired mouth. “I signed on through January in order to get the holiday bonus. That’s two months’ extra pay right there.”
“I know,” Marta said. “But I still think you should get home for Christmas. Come to think of it, I could cover for you. If I work twice as hard, the head cook won’t even notice you’re gone.” She stretched and flinched when a muscle in her side caught. “Ouch.”
“No way.”
Marta scowled at her and walked off.
The tall blue spruce from the Bennett ranch had been strung with lights and
outdoor decorations. Around it was most of the children’s choir and nearly every other youngster and adult in Velde.
The afternoon light was fading fast and the kids were restless. Opal raised a gloved hand and the choir launched into a rousing rendition of “Jingle Bells,” to get everyone singing along. Mrs. Pearson, a quavery but determined soprano, joined in too. Annie held the hands of Jenny and Zoe, who’d run to her when Ed and Cilla gave the okay. Then Nell, who’d supplied most of the decorations from her stash, did the honors and flipped the switch.
Bright eyes reflected the dazzling illumination as everyone clapped and cheered, with Annie and her parents joining in. Photos were snapped, invitations exchanged, and the tree-lighting ceremony was over.
Attendees wandered off with bigger kids in tow. The little ones insisted on being carried and more than one young head rested on a grown-up shoulder. Not to fall asleep, but for one last look at the magical beauty of the tree.
Cilla took charge of the little girls again. They seemed more wistful than wowed by the tree, and stayed close to her. Zoe, the younger of the two, hid inside the folds of Cilla’s big warm poncho like a baby chick.
“Bye, Annie.” Jenny waved to her as Ed led the way to their car.
“So long.” Annie smiled. “See you around.”
“Are you coming back with us or staying in town?” The question came from her mom. Lou Bennett turned away from her husband, who was digging in a pocket for the keys to his truck.
“Coming back,” Annie said, as if they should have known that. “Let’s get a roaring fire going and warm up, get started on the Christmas cookies.”
“Okay,” Tyrell said. “I was thinking we could talk to the boys on the laptop.”
“Good idea. Us Bennetts have to stay in touch.” Her mom sighed. “We get farther apart every year.”
Annie slid her arm through her mother’s. “I’m right here. So don’t talk like that.”
“Okay, honey.”
Nell ushered Mrs. Pearson into the saloon. “There’s my son, all grown up. He’s not as cute as he used to be but he turned out fine.”
