’Twas the night before Christmas
And throughout Bronco Heights
All the cowboys and cowgirls
Had said their good-nights
All but for Evan
With a bump on his head
That had knocked him unconscious...
And left him for dead
As he lay there unmoving
The ghosts all came round
Christmas Past, Present and Future
To relate what they’d found
Evan’s business had prospered
But his heart had not
In his quest for the dollar
He’d simply...forgot
And now at the crossroads
He was left with a choice
To keep his heart shuttered
Or wake up and rejoice
Daphne Taylor was waiting
Her arms open wide
But it still wasn’t easy
For him to decide
So what happened next?
Oh, we really can’t say.
So, readers, keep reading,
Till you reach Christmas day!
Dear Reader,
It’s December and the holiday spirit is in the air!
Daphne Taylor enjoys her work at Happy Hearts Animal Sanctuary—despite rumors of other spirits hanging around her farm. And clearly Santa approves of her mission, because he came early this year, delivering Evan Cruise to her door. No doubt the owner of Bronco Ghost Tours needs some help to change his “bah, humbug” attitude, but Daphne is up to the task!
During my research to write this story, I gained a new appreciation for the staff and volunteers who work tirelessly to rescue and rehabilitate animals that have been abandoned and/or neglected and/or mistreated. It’s a job that takes more than time and effort and money—it takes heart.
Our Worf—the loudest, wildest, sweetest dog you’ll ever meet—spent five months at our local shelter before any visitor to the facility expressed an interest in him. That visitor was my sixteen-year-old son, who’d read Worf’s profile on the HBSPCA’s website and wanted to bring him home. Because love at first sight is real.
Worf is still loud and occasionally wild (ask any delivery person who comes to our door!), but every day is better now because he’s ours—and we’re his. Because love changes everything.
I hope your heart is filled with love and joy this holiday season and always!
Happy reading!
Brenda (& Worf)
PS: During this season of giving, if you have a little extra time or money, please consider giving it to a local animal rescue or shelter.
A Cowboy’s Christmas Carol
Brenda Harlen
Brenda Harlen is a former attorney who once had the privilege of appearing before the Supreme Court of Canada. The practice of law taught her a lot about the world and reinforced her determination to become a writer—because in fiction, she could promise a happy ending! Now she is an award-winning, RITA® Award–nominated nationally bestselling author of more than thirty titles for Harlequin. You can keep up-to-date with Brenda on Facebook and Twitter, or through her website, brendaharlen.com.
Books by Brenda Harlen
Harlequin Special Edition
Match Made in Haven
The Sheriff’s Nine-Month Surprise
Her Seven-Day Fiancé
Six Weeks to Catch a Cowboy
Claiming the Cowboy’s Heart
Double Duty for the Cowboy
One Night with the Cowboy
Meet Me Under the Mistletoe
Montana Mavericks: Six Brides for Six Brothers
Maverick Christmas Surprise
Montana Mavericks: The Lonelyhearts Ranch
Bring Me a Maverick for Christmas!
Montana Mavericks: The Great Family Roundup
The Maverick’s Midnight Proposal
Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com for more titles.
This book is dedicated with love to Connor, who brought Worf home.
And with thanks for research assistance, including “how to bury a body in the backyard.”
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Excerpt from A Temporary Christmas Arrangement by Christine Rimmer
Chapter One
Desperately Seeking Daisy.
Desperately seeking a woman named Daisy who was born in 1945 to teenage parents and placed for adoption somewhere in Montana. Your birth family would like to meet you! Please contact the Abernathy family at the Ambling A Ranch, Bronco Heights, Montana. Time is of the essence!
Evan Cruise clicked his mouse to close the open window on his desktop that displayed the company’s Twitter feed. It was at least the tenth time in three days that he’d spotted the notice on different social media sites, and something about it made the back of his neck itch, though he wasn’t eager to dig deep and figure out what that something was.
Of course, he’d lived in Bronco his whole life, so he was familiar with the Abernathy name and knew the location of their ranch. What he didn’t know was why the Abernathys were suddenly searching for an apparently long-lost relative. In any event, he didn’t have time to waste worrying about some decades-old mystery that he’d decided, despite the itch at the back of his neck, had no connection to him. He had a business to run.
He moved his cursor over the desktop to click on the icon labeled This Week. The seven-day calendar popped up to reveal each of the scheduled tour slots highlighted in pink, indicating that it was fully booked. He clicked to advance to the next week and saw all the dates in pink again and had to smile, despite the fact that it was the middle of November, which meant that the holidays—and all the hoopla that went along with them—were just around the corner. Because pink translated to more money in the bank, and more money was the surest sign of success.
Of course, he only ran tours three days a week during what was considered the off-season for Bronco Ghost Tours. Still, the numbers had convinced him there was interest enough to justify adding a fourth weekly tour through to the new year. The extra tour, along with the supplemental income he made selling Bronco Ghost Tours merchandise in-store and online, guaranteed a very healthy bottom line for his business.
Lucky for Evan, everyone seemed to enjoy a good story, and quite a few of those liked scary stories. Since even more got excited about the holidays, he’d come up with the idea of a seasonal Yuletide Ghost Tour. Just because he didn’t share their enthusiasm didn’t mean he couldn’t capitalize on it.
Eager to sell this tour as something different, he’d committed to finding new legends and venues rather than just adding a seasonal spin to the locations visited on some of his other tours. It was a happy coincidence that he happened to overhear a group of old-timers chatting at the coffee shop near his office the previous week—more specifically the mention of “ghost horses” at “the old Whispering Willows Ranch” and the claim that they “always kick up a fuss this time of year.”
Though Evan habitually drank his coffee black, he’d taken his time adding cream and sugar to his to-go cup that morning and, at the same time, making careful mental notes as he list
ened to the men.
When he got back to the office, he jotted down the brief details for his assistant to dig deeper into the story and determine if the old Whispering Willows Ranch might be a suitable addition to his tour. Considering that the first Yuletide Ghost Tour was scheduled for the Friday after Thanksgiving—only nine days away—he needed to finalize not just the destinations and the route but the story line to entice his guests every step of the way.
As if on cue, a tentative knock sounded on the open door, and he glanced up to see his assistant hovering in the entranceway.
“What is it, Kelly?”
“It’s Callie, sir.”
“What’s Callie?”
“My name is Callie,” she clarified.
Another man might have been embarrassed by the slip, but Evan wasn’t one to dwell on emotion. Besides, it was hardly his fault that he couldn’t keep straight the names of the assistants who seemed to rotate through his office as if they were in a revolving door. No, the fault could be laid squarely at the feet of Brittany Brandt. Since she’d abandoned her position at Bronco Ghost Tours early in the spring, he’d been at the mercy of a local temp agency that sent a different candidate every couple of months—and sometimes even more frequently than that.
Apparently his former assistant was now an event planner for Bronco Heights Elite Parties and making quite a name for herself. In fact, she was reputed to be the talent behind the recent Denim and Diamonds fundraiser that had been hosted by Cornelius Taylor and his third wife, Jessica, to benefit programs for low-income families in Bronco Valley. Evan knew that he should be happy for Brittany, who’d moved on to a career that she obviously loved—and had fallen in love and married, too—but he was still a little annoyed that she’d left him with only two weeks’ notice and an explanation that still rankled: You’re impatient and demanding and it’s not a lot of fun to work here.
“What is it, Callie?” he asked the temp still hovering in his doorway, looking as if she was standing on the edge of a cliff without a safety harness.
He tried to be patient, but honestly, he felt as if he’d wasted so much time training new employees over the past six months that he might have been further ahead if he’d done the work himself. But this one had been a quick learner, and at least when she wore skirts to the office, they covered more than just the curve of her bottom, and with shoes that were more serviceable than sexy. Her immediate predecessor had been more interested in earning the title “missus” than “administrative assistant” and had flirted outrageously with any man who walked into the office—including her boss! Sure, she was attractive, and Evan might have been flattered if he wasn’t terrified of a sexual harassment suit, which he told her from a safe distance on the other side of his desk.
“I finished the research you wanted on the former Whispering Willows Ranch,” Callie said.
He held out his hand because, more important than either her skirts or her shoes, she was smart and a hard worker, if a little on the timid side.
She stepped into the room to offer him the sheaf of papers.
There were a lot of pages, attesting to the thoroughness of her research, which he appreciated. However, he had a meeting in less than an hour, so he asked, “Can you summarize for me?”
She nodded and immediately began. “In 1912 the Milton family bought the property on which they operated a cattle ranch for almost fifty years. Just before Thanksgiving 1960—”
“Wait.” He held up a hand. “Are you sure about the date?”
Because the way the old guys in the coffee shop had been talking, it was as if the property had been haunted for more than a hundred years. Not that the timing mattered, really. All that mattered was that there was some corroboration of the haunted part.
“Yes, sir,” she said, her head bobbing for emphasis.
“Okay, then.” He gestured for her to carry on.
“Just before Thanksgiving in 1960,” she continued, picking up where she’d left off, “Henry and Thelma returned home from a trip into town to find the barn engulfed in flames. The firefighters would later describe the horrifying screams of the dying animals that they couldn’t save, but no one knew that Alice had also been trapped in the barn...perhaps having raced in after the fire started to save the horses...until her charred remains were found in the wreckage the following day.
“Her father—inconsolable over the loss of the daughter—took his own life a week later.”
Evan had been flipping through the pages as she recited the facts, but he looked up now, his brows drawing together as he spotted a glint of silver on her shoulder. “Is that tinsel?” he demanded.
“What?” She followed the direction of his gaze. “Oh, um, yes.” But she removed the offending metallic strip from her shirt and scrunched it in her hand. “Other local businesses have started to decorate for the holidays, so I thought Bronco Ghost Tours should get into the spirit, too.”
“I don’t pay you to decorate,” he said.
“Of course not, sir,” she agreed. “I only put a few things up while I was on my lunch break.”
“Okay then,” he harrumphed, understanding that he couldn’t dictate how she spent her free time.
But he would absolutely put his foot down if he heard Christmas carols coming out of the speaker by her workstation.
“Now tell me what you found out about the ghost horses,” he said, returning to the matter at hand. “Has anyone claimed to see shimmery apparitions or hear unusual noises?”
She nodded. “The most recent former owner apparently decided to sell the ranch because he was creeped out by the sound of horses whinnying in the dark—and he didn’t have any horses.”
“That’s what I’m talking about,” Evan said, rubbing his hands together. But then he wondered aloud, “Who buys a ranch without having any horses?”
“Some Hollywood stunt double who wanted a quiet retreat to get away from it all,” Callie told him. “Until he realized it wasn’t so quiet after all.
“Neighbors and passersby have also claimed to hear the horses, usually at night, and some have even reported smelling wood smoke, as if something was burning.”
“What about the current owner?” he prompted. “Has he heard anything?”
“The current owner is Daphne Taylor. She acquired the property almost six years ago.”
“Cornelius Taylor’s daughter?”
Kelly—Callie—nodded.
“Hmm...” He considered this complication. Not that he had any issue with the wealthiest family in town, but he suspected they might not be thrilled to have rumors of ghosts associated with their property. “I forgot that she started an animal sanctuary.”
“Yes, sir,” she confirmed. “Whispering Willows is called Happy Hearts now.”
“Do you have contact information for Daphne Taylor?”
“It’s on the front page.”
He handed the papers back to her. “Give her a call and set up a meeting. Tell her I want to discuss a business proposition as soon as possible.”
“Yes, sir,” she said again, turning to make her way back to the door.
It wouldn’t hurt to say “thank you” every once in a while.
They were the words Brittany had said to him as she was packing up her belongings on her last day of work, and they echoed in his head now.
And to let your employees know you’re grateful for their efforts—if you are.
Apparently he needed to remind himself that sometimes, a paycheck wasn’t appreciation enough.
With the echo of Brittany’s words in his head, he said, “Kel—Callie?”
His new assistant pivoted on her heel to face him, her expression set as if she was braced for a reprimand.
“Thanks,” he said. “You did a good job on the research.”
Her eyes went wide, as if she wasn’t quite sure she could beli
eve what she was hearing, then her lips slowly curved into an appreciative smile. “Thank you, sir.”
He nodded. “And don’t forget to unpack the delivery from BrandYou before you leave today. We can’t sell Yuletide Ghost Tour merchandise if it isn’t on the shelves.”
* * *
Daphne Taylor lived and breathed Happy Hearts Animal Sanctuary. It wasn’t just her job or even her home, it was her passion. And while she felt good about the work she did and the life she was living on the purportedly haunted property, that didn’t prevent her from dreaming sometimes about being stretched out on a white sand beach under a tropical sky with a fruity drink in her hand and a handsome man rubbing sunscreen over her body.
She frowned as she shoved the pitchfork into the soiled straw and transferred it to the waiting wheelbarrow, acknowledging that it wasn’t really possible to enjoy a drink at the same time as a sensual massage. Since her shoulders and back felt tight and stiff, she set the imaginary drink aside and focused on the fictional man with magic hands.
An impatient grunt interrupted her mental fantasy.
“Don’t worry, Tiny Tim.” She took one gloved hand off the fork to rub his bristly head affectionately. “You and Barkley are still my favorite guys.”
After a few more rubs, the potbellied pig lumbered past her to his pen, with the heated pad on the floor, a rooting box to keep him busy, and lots of hay and water.
She thought wistfully of her own living room, where she was usually curled up with a mug of hot tea and a couple of cookies and her devoted yellow Lab by her chair at this time of day. But she usually had a lot more help on the farm than she’d had today, without which she was a few hours behind schedule.
It was her own fault for not remembering that it was Career Day at the high school and that her co-op students wouldn’t be showing up for their afternoon chores. She glanced at the clock on the wall again, unable to shake the feeling that she wasn’t just running behind schedule but actually late for something.
She had a calendar app on her phone—and she used it, but she sometimes forgot to schedule reminders along with appointments. A careless oversight that had resulted in the end of her previous relationship when Boyd Watkins had shown up to take her out for their six-month anniversary and discovered that she’d completely forgotten their date and the significance of it.
A Cowboy's Christmas Carol Page 1
