Declan picked up a cardboard coaster and flipped it over, took a pen from his shirt pocket, and drew a frowny face. He wrote “I’m sorry” underneath and slipped it into her coat pocket. Then he yelled at Rosalie to bring a pitcher of beer to the Brennan table and slid off the stool.
In her peripheral vision, Betsy could see Honey Brennan touch Declan’s face and ask a question. He laughed it off and told her the same thing he’d told Tanner. What was it about that egotistical statement that had made all the blood leave Tanner’s face? Betsy would bet dollars to earthworms that Declan was trying to steal one of Tanner’s girlfriends on the sly. Kissing her one night and someone else the next. Yes, sir, that was Declan Brennan’s reputation for sure.
A spurt of jealousy shot through, leaving a really bad taste in her mouth that even the Jameson had trouble erasing. She tossed back the last dregs in the plastic cup.
Do you reckon Declan felt the same when he got a glimpse of you kissing John?
“Oh, hush, he’s…” She caught herself talking aloud and stopped before someone overheard her arguing with herself.
Rosalie wiped down the counter where Declan had been sitting. “What’s got your underbritches in a twist tonight?”
“Men.”
“That’s the story every time. You can’t live with ’em, and it’s against the law to shoot them. Need something to get your mind off them?”
Betsy nodded.
“Go over there in the storeroom and get out the Christmas decorations. You can make the crowd help you put them up or do it yourself and tell them all to go to hell if they get in your way,” Rosalie said.
Betsy hopped down off the stool and laid a bill on the bar. “Yes, ma’am. That sounds like fun.”
Rosalie slid the money back toward her. “Your drinks are on the house if you’ll put up my tree and decorations.”
“Poor time to be cuttin’ back on my drinkin’, isn’t it?”
“Why would you do that?” Rosalie asked.
“Need a clear head all the time these days. Have big decisions to make,” Betsy said.
* * *
When Betsy threw back the last of that expensive whiskey, Declan expected her to leave. But then she went to the storage closet, fumbled with the string to turn on the light, and shut the door behind her. When it opened again, her coat was gone, her shirt on right, and her sleeves pushed up. She’d whipped her red hair up into a ponytail, and she pushed a box out of the room with a faded picture of a Christmas tree on it.
“Looks like Betsy is going to put up the tree for Rosalie,” Honey said.
“Looks like it,” Declan said.
“I can’t wait to run the ranch, so I can take her down a notch.”
“Oh, so you’re going to keep the feud alive and kickin’, are you?”
“Damn straight! Granny will be proud of me. I heard that she got kicked off Wild Horse because she wouldn’t go to a revival with the preacher who’s standing in for Kyle on Sunday. I could imagine an angel dancing with the devil easier than I could that.” Honey laughed.
“And if the preacher were a woman, could you see me going to a revival meeting with her?” Declan asked.
“Oh, honey, if she was good lookin’, it wouldn’t matter to you what she did for a living; you’d still try to seduce her,” Honey said.
“And that’s all right for me but not for Betsy?”
“What mean bug crawled up your ass tonight?” Honey’s tone changed to ice.
“Nothing. Just seems to me like some of us on both sides of the feuding fence get the raw end of the deal sometimes.” His voice was every bit as chilly.
Quaid kicked him under the table. “I can’t believe you are taking up for a Gallagher, and Betsy at that.”
“I’m just stating facts. Hey, Tanner, you going to help your cousin, or do you want me to lend her a hand? That’s a big tree she’s trying to manhandle,” Declan yelled across the room.
“You wouldn’t dare,” Honey growled.
Tanner shot him a mean look and went back to talking to his cousins. Declan pushed back his chair and stretched all six feet two inches of his height to an upright position. He ambled over to the jukebox, plugged in several quarters, pushed buttons, and went to the bar, where he ordered two longneck bottles of beer.
Rosalie eyed him through narrow slits and said, “Remember, this is neutral territory.”
“Yes, ma’am, but I sure wouldn’t want the Gallaghers braggin’ around town that they had the sole job of decoratin’ your bar. Next thing you know, they’d be sayin’ that they’ve got you in their pocket and us Brennan folk best watch our ways in your bar because you’ll take the Gallaghers’ side against us. So if it’s all right with you, I think I’ll help Betsy with the decoratin’ tonight,” he said.
“Long as there’s no fightin’ and she don’t mind, it’s fine by me. But remember, she is the boss. I gave her the job and if anyone says I’m in anyone’s pocket they’d best be thinkin’ again,” Rosalie said.
“Yes, ma’am.”
He glanced over his shoulder to see Tanner set his jaw so hard it’s a wonder the cowboy’s teeth were still intact.
Declan handed Betsy a beer just as Tim McGraw started singing “Dear Santa.” “I’ll get the tree out and put the limbs on the pole if you’ll fluff it, as Granny calls it.”
The lyrics fit him to a tee when it said that he hadn’t been good all year and he wasn’t askin’ for anything for himself, but he wanted her to have a miracle to get them back to where they were before.
“You tryin’ to say something with that song?” Betsy asked softly.
“Maybe I am,” he said. “You know how to fluff a tree?”
“I reckon I can,” she said.
In short order, he had the tree put together and carried over to set it beside the jukebox. “I’ll bring out the lights while you make it look presentable. Right now, it’s uglier than Charlie Brown’s tree.”
“Hey, what can we do?” Quaid asked at Betsy’s elbow when she started working with each limb to make the tree presentable.
When Declan returned, Eli took the box from him and Quaid followed Declan back to the storage room to get the tinsel.
“What are we doing?” Quaid barked.
“Decoratin’ a tree so that the Gallaghers won’t think they’ve got Rosalie in their pocket. It won’t kill us to work with them,” Declan said.
“No, but Granny might,” Quaid said. “This has to do with that bet, doesn’t it? Have you already made a play for her?”
“You’ll know at Christmas,” Declan said. “Here, you might as well carry out this box of ornaments and put a smile on your face. It’s the holidays.”
“Yeah, right. You’re doing this to piss Tanner off.”
Declan clamped a hand on Quaid’s shoulder. “Two birds with one stone.”
“Just don’t get shot through the heart with an arrow while you’re throwing rocks at the birds,” Quaid warned him.
“Ain’t about to happen,” Declan told him.
He carried the lights out to the tree, which looked fantastic now that Betsy had worked on it. Rascal Flatts was taking their turn with a Christmas song on the jukebox and Betsy was humming along with them. “I’ll wrap this around my arms and follow you as you circle the tree and fasten the lights on the tree, Miz Betsy.”
“Looks to me like you’ve done this job before,” she said.
“Many times.” He slipped the wires onto his arms from the cardboard they’d been wound on.
“Hey, let’s get out that stuff that Polly put up every year,” Honey said. “You know that red and green tinsel that she draped up to the ceiling and then hung a ball of mistletoe in the middle of it.”
She and a couple of other Brennans headed to the storage closet, and before long, folks were working together, forgetting
all about a feud. Christmas music played loudly. Decorations went up on the walls and around the jukebox. The tree was coming along, with Declan and Betsy bumping into each other with every move.
“So, you going to kiss me if I stand under the mistletoe?” Declan whispered.
“Hush!” She gasped and several people from both sides of the feud stopped to look her way. She grinned impishly and said, “I was thinking that Honey ought to kiss Tanner under the mistletoe.”
“Hell ain’t froze over yet,” Tanner said quickly.
“You are crazy as a cross-eyed mule for even sayin’ that, Betsy. Naomi would string you up if she heard such a thing,” Honey said. “I thought you could hold your liquor better than that.”
“I’m sober as a judge.”
“Then you’d better get drunk because you are crazy when you’re sober,” Honey said. “Tanner, I bet those things that go on the tables are still in that storage room. Polly never threw anything away.”
Tanner sat down and sipped at his beer. “I’m not taking orders from a Brennan. I don’t care if it is Christmas.”
“Then take the order from me, since Rosalie said I’m the boss, and go get those table decorations,” Betsy said. “We want to get this done before closing time tonight.”
“And,” Rosalie yelled from behind the bar, “there’s a free beer for everyone who stays until it’s done. It’s my first Christmas as owner of the bar, so this will be my new tradition. Whoever follows Betsy’s orders gets a free beer.”
George Strait started singing “Christmas Cookies,” and Declan sang along with him. The words said that he sure liked the Christmas cookies and sugar, and when he sang about them being impossible to resist, Declan wiggled his eyebrows seductively.
“You covered that pretty good by saying that about Tanner and Honey.” He grinned.
“You are horrible, even for a Brennan,” she whispered.
“Did you ever think we’d be working together right out in public like this, and we’ve got the whole bunch of them working with us?” he asked.
“It’s either magic or the free beer. Never knew a Gallagher or a Brennan to turn down a free drink, even if y’all did come from a Bible-thumpin’ preacher,” she said.
“Meet me Sunday at the storage unit. I have to pick up a couple of things after church that I can’t hide,” he said.
“I’ve got some stuff that I need to bring too.”
“So our fight is over?”
“We’ll talk about that Sunday.”
“How about meeting me at the river on Saturday night? Up under the willow tree? I’ll bring the beer if you’ll bring the food.”
* * *
Betsy’s heart yelled yes. Her mind tried to override the noise by reminding her that only a couple of hours before, she’d been determined to take a step back and put the whole thing back into business mode. She listened to her heart and nodded.
“I might even bring some brisket and potato salad,” he said.
“With or without arsenic?”
“We are just Betsy and Declan at the river,” he said.
Another quick nod, and then Quaid and Tanner joined them to put icicles on the tree. By the time Rosalie was ready to shut the place down, it had taken on a festive holiday look, and everyone who wanted one left with a beer in their hands.
Thirty minutes later, Betsy found the note in her pocket when she tossed her coat over the rocking chair in her room. His actions had spoken far more than the note had that night, when he’d stepped up and helped her with the decorating job, but still, she read the words a dozen times.
A soft knock on the door made her hustle to get the note hidden in a nightstand drawer. Later, she’d put it away in a boot box with the others, but right then, she had to think as fast as she had in the pastor’s study that evening. Without thinking, she reached up and wiped John’s kiss from her lips.
Her mother, Willa, crossed the floor and sat down on the edge of the bed. Willa was one of those women who stayed in the background but whom few people had the desire or will to cross. She could hold her own with a simple look or a few softly spoken words. Her dark hair was pulled back with a knit headband, and her face had been scrubbed clean of all makeup. She wore green pajamas that matched her eyes. Willa was not a small woman, and Betsy barely came up to her shoulder.
“I just heard that you and the preacher who’s standing in for Kyle this week were at the church together tonight. There’s talk that he’s asked you to go to a revival with him on Saturday night.”
“Yes, we were very briefly. Yes, he did, and yes, I turned him down. There’s no use starting something that isn’t going anywhere. I don’t feel a thing for him,” Betsy said.
“And I also heard that the Gallaghers and the Brennans worked together to help Rosalie decorate the bar tonight. You and Declan Brennan started it, right?”
“I started it, and he was afraid that everyone would think the Gallaghers had Rosalie in their pocket, so he insisted on helping, then everyone pitched in. It’s amazing what folks will do for a free beer. It was nice, Mama. It reminded me of the church programs at Christmas when the kids and old folks, Gallaghers and Brennans alike, worked together to produce something festive and sweet,” she said.
“Is that the whole thing? You and Declan weren’t flirting, were you? You know that sure can’t go anywhere, don’t you?”
“I’m a Gallagher, Mama,” she said.
“And he’s a Brennan. Both of your grandmothers would see y’all in the grave before they’d allow such a thing.”
“I reckon someone had best get out the smelling salts for when Granny hears that I even decorated a Christmas tree with him.”
“And hide the shotguns.” Willa kissed Betsy on the forehead. “See you tomorrow. Your dad wants you to drive over to Ringgold to look at a horse he’s had his eye on for a year.”
“I’ll be ready bright and early. Think he’ll take us to dinner at that little café over there? It’s got the best chicken fried steak in the whole state.”
“For you, he’d do about anything…except be happy about you dating a Brennan.”
A twinge of guilt shot through Betsy as her mother blew her a kiss at the door. She hadn’t fallen in love with Declan so the whole thing could end Saturday night. There was enough stuff in the storage unit to outfit a program, and if she gathered up anymore, she could figure out a way to give it to him. She didn’t even care if she lost the bet. She just wanted peace in her soul.
Yeah right!
“Stop it. I don’t want to argue with you,” she mumbled.
I’m not going away tonight. You have fallen for a Brennan, and now you have to make a choice or you will never, ever have peace. You’ll never be satisfied with anyone else, and it’s not going to be easy, but you are tough.
“Not that tough.” She sighed.
Come on, girl. Even mild-tempered Leah Brennan fought for what she wanted. What’s the matter with you?
“She knew that Rhett loved her, wanted to marry her. That makes a big difference.” She wiped a tear from her eye. “God, why does this have to be so hard?”
You can only sit on the fence so long before your butt goes numb and you fall off. Choose what you want, Betsy, and go after it. You didn’t need me to tell you what to do when you were chasing after those three O’Donnell cowboys.
“They weren’t Brennans, and I’m not listening to you anymore tonight,” she said loudly.
Chapter 14
The skies turned gray on Friday evening, and the snow started in earnest, putting down an inch-thick layer on everything. When it stopped, the sky dropped an inch of icy sleet on top of that. On Saturday morning, Betsy awoke to two more inches of snow and the sound of small tree limbs breaking with the weight of the ice that had accumulated on them. She sat up in bed and looked out the window, hoping that she�
��d been dreaming. But reality was right there on the other side of the glass—snow and ice mixed, which was far worse than just plain old snow.
She threw herself backward, pulled the covers over her head, and groaned. She’d be chipping ice from the watering tanks and feeding cows out there in the cold all day. AND—every letter was capitalized in her head in the single-syllable word—tonight, she had promised to meet Declan at the river. Heart and mind had argued all day Friday starting the moment she’d opened her eyes that morning about what she had to say to him. Why did life have to be so complicated?
The smell of bacon and coffee found its way under the quilt and comforter to her nose. She stuck her nose out, inhaled deeply when her feet hit the cold hardwood floor, and tiptoed to the bathroom. She sucked air even more when she sat down on the cold potty and her bladder shriveled up to the size of a marble.
While she was dressing as quickly as possible, but remembering to put on long underwear and an extra pair of socks, she listened to the morning weather report on the radio—more freezing rain in the forecast and there was a possibility that some schools would be closed on Monday. Roads were slippery. Travel was discouraged.
She headed for the coffeepot the minute she reached the kitchen.
“Looks like you bundled up,” her mother said.
Her father pushed his empty breakfast plate back. “Ready to get some work done?”
Henry wasn’t much taller than her mother and had been blessed with the Gallagher good looks. Pictures of him in his younger days showed him about forty pounds lighter than he was now, but then, Willa was a fine cook. And in those days, his sandy-colored hair had been twice as thick. But his smile was the same, full of love and life.
“Soon as I get a cup of coffee and a biscuit filled with bacon and grape jelly,” she answered. “It’s not supposed to do this two years in a row in north Texas. We hadn’t had snow since I was a little girl until last year.”
Henry patted the chair beside him. “Your grandmother says the O’Donnells caused it. They came up here and upset normality. Speaking of them, I expect that you and I’d better get real serious about that property after Christmas, or else some more of their cousins might come visiting and want to stay and buy up one or both of the places that are for sale right now.”
A Cowboy Christmas Miracle (Burnt Boot, Texas Book 4) Page 15
