Her Christmas Surprise
CHERYL WRIGHT
HER CHRISTMAS SURPRISE
Copyright 2018 by Cheryl Wright
Cover Artist: Got You Covered
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner of this book
Thanks
Thanks to my very dear friends (and authors), Margaret Tanner and Susan Horsnell for their enduring encouragement and friendship.
Thanks also to Alan, my husband of over 45 years, who has been a relentless supporter of my writing for many years.
And last, but by no means least, thank you to all my wonderful readers who encourage me to continue writing these stories. It is such a joy to me, knowing so many of you enjoy reading my stories. I love writing them as much as you love reading them.
CHAPTER ONE
Simone Allen woke to loud tapping on her car window.
“You can’t sleep here, lady,” the cop yelled through the closed window.
She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and slowly sat up. Despite the blanket covering her, she was chilled to the bone.
Glancing around, she remembered where she was – about eight hours out of Grand Falls, Montana.
The cop stood his ground, continuing to stare through the window at her, indicating for Simone to wind it down.
She was stiff from too many nights sleeping on the back seat of her old jalopy. She was beyond hungry; she hadn’t eaten much for days, and only had a few measly dollars left. Maybe enough to buy breakfast?
She wasn’t convinced.
Once that was done, she was dead broke. She had enough gas to get to her destination, but if the job didn’t work out, she had no idea how she’d get back home.
But then again, where was home? She’d been roaming for months. With no work, nowhere to live, and very little money, she’d lived the life of a ghost.
She wanted it to end.
Finding that advertisement was like discovering a gold mine. The newspaper was months old when she came across it, but she still gave it a shot.
She’d sent off her application using the local post office as her address. With only limited experience, she applied to be the new cook at the Silver Shoe Ranch in Grand Falls, Montana.
She’d had to stay put until she got the response, but it was worth the wait.
Many days of driving, and no money for hotels if she wanted to eat at all, Simone set out on her great adventure.
And now she was only hours away from learning her fate.
“Sorry, Officer,” she said. “I was afraid I’d fall asleep at the wheel, so pulled to the side for a nap.”
He nodded but didn’t speak.
“I must have been more tired than I realized.” She looked at her watch. “I’ve been asleep for about six hours.”
He straightened up. “It’s alright, Ma’am. Just be on your way and we’ll forget about it.” He started to walk away but she called him back.
“Wait!” she shouted to his retreating back. “Where can I get some food? Cheap.”
His eyes burned into her, and she swore he could read her mind. “Two blocks down and turn left. The little church there runs meals three times a day. Everyone is welcome.”
She felt the heat creep up her face. She’d been through some hard times in her life, but she’d never been quite this desperate.
“Thank you,” she said quietly, suddenly aware of just how low she’d fallen.
He tipped his hat and walked away having no idea how much that meal was going to mean to her.
* * *
Simone braced herself against the cold Montana weather.
When she answered that advertisement, she had no idea what she would be getting into.
The little information she knew was gleaned from the letter she received from Vern Hadley, the ranch owner. She knew she was going to be the new ranch cook since their cook of more than twenty years was retiring.
But he didn’t say how many she’d be cooking for. She wondered how big his family was – three or four kids and his wife, perhaps? She shivered, not necessarily because of the cold, but wondering if she would stack up to their expectations.
There were going to be very big shoes to fill.
She was worried too, because she’d agreed to a trial period, not a solid job. And she really needed something more secure. She was done with a life of roaming; she was ready to settle down in one place.
She didn’t have such a cold location in mind, though.
Upmost in her mind was ensuring she worked hard and secured the position permanently.
Mr Hadley’s letter said their current cook, Mrs Simpson, would be there long enough to teach her the ropes, and then she would be gone. Three to four weeks, or perhaps a little longer.
She gulped in the cold air. How hard could it be? She’d been cooking since she was a teenager. She’d even helped out in the kitchen at the local hotel.
Simone stood on the porch rubbing her hands together and praying for someone to rescue her from the harsh weather. She lifted her icy cold hand, poised to knock once more.
“Well hello there.” She felt the warmth of a roaring fire ooze out the front door, and longed to be next to it. “You must be Simone Allen?”
She nodded, her voice momentarily lost.
The man was around six foot – tall, dark and handsome, and most likely her boss.
Simone shook her head against the thought.
“Come in, come in out of the cold.” He motioned her inside. “You must be freezing in that flimsy get-up.”
He wasn’t wrong, but she had nothing warmer.
“We weren’t expecting you until tomorrow.
She continued to rub her hands together. “I made better time than I’d expected.” She had no intentions of telling him she’d run out of money. She had to arrive early or not eat for another day. Maybe two.
Unless she found another church or soup kitchen along the way. She wasn’t willing to risk it.
She had a death grip on her overnight bag. Practically everything she owned was in it. More importantly, the brooch her mother had given her when she was ten was in that bag.
He nodded and led her into the living room where several people, men, sat around the fire.
“I’m Hank Hadley, by the way,” he said, stretching his hand toward her.
She shook his hand, then studied the cozy room with its roaring fire, and comfy looking chairs. It seemed like a real friendly place. Then she noticed the three men staring at her. Looking her up and down, assessing everything about her.
“Your hands are freezing,” he said, as if he was telling her something new. “This is my father Vern, and my brothers Nash and Beau.”
She approached each one and shook their proffered hands, keeping a tight grip on the bag. “I’m very pleased to meet you all,” she said quietly.
“Honestly, Hank,” Beau said. “You didn’t think to take the lady’s luggage?” He was up in a flash and snatched it up from her. She kept a close eye on it. “If you’ll follow me, Ma’am,”
“Simone,” she said, slightly shaken that her possessions had been whisked away.
He frowned. “If you’ll follow me, Ma’am, er, Simone, I’ll show you to your room.”
“Thank you,” she said quietly, a little overwhelmed by it all.
He pushed the door open with his foot and motioned for her to go first. “It’s not much,” he said. “But it’s comfortable, and warm. We look after our staff here at
Silver Shoe Ranch.”
She looked around, mouth agape. It was better than some of the hotel rooms she’d seen when she worked part-time as a cleaner, way back when she was at high school.
The double bed had an ornate bedhead, and the comforter looked cozy enough she wanted to lay down on it right then and there.
There was a leather chair in the corner, and a small writing desk opposite the bed. A small wardrobe stood next to it.
He placed her bag in a corner, then proceeded to close the curtains. “Make sure you keep these closed overnight, and while you’re dressing. Always while you’re dressing. We have cowboys on this ranch. Lots of them, and they don’t often get to see a pretty lady.”
He grinned, and it changed his entire face.
“I,” Simone wasn’t sure what to say at that precise moment. His words had really taken her aback.
“Follow me and I’ll show you the bathroom.” She worried if she’d remember where everything was, but it seemed easy enough.
They were on their way back to the living room when he declared. “Where are my manners? I didn’t even give you time to take the weight off your feet. I do apologize Ma’am. Er, Simone.”
Mrs Simpson was handing out hot beverages and offered Simone a warm drink. “Hot chocolate or tea? We don’t do coffee at this hour of the night.”
Simone laughed. “Who doesn’t drink coffee at night?”
All eyes turned to her. “It’s a tradition,” Beau told her. “It’s early to bed, early to rise. You’ve never worked on a ranch before, have you?”
Was he mocking her? Because it sure felt like he was. Four sets of eyes were suddenly staring at her. She wanted to shrink into the floor boards.
“Don’t mind this lot,” Mrs Simpson said. “They just ain’t used to a refined lady such as yourself.” She put her arm around Simone and walked her to the kitchen. “Now’s a good as time as any to check out the kitchen.”
The entire house was surprisingly warm. After the freezing temperatures she’d endured over the past days, she fully expected it to be cold inside.
Once they reached the kitchen, Mrs Simpson turned to her. “A couple of things you need to know; breakfast is at 5:30.”
Simone swallowed. “5:30 AM? In the morning?” She must have heard wrong.
Mrs Simpson laughed. “You’ve definitely never worked on a ranch before. Have you worked as a cook?” She looked sternly at the younger woman. “I mean, ever?”
Simone took a deep breath, certain she was about to be told to hightail it out of there. “No Ma’am,” she said softly. “Apart from a part-time job in the hotel kitchen when I was at high school, this will be my first time.”
The older woman laughed. “This could be interesting.”
Simone frowned.
“My dear girl, you obviously have no idea what you’re getting into. Vern didn’t tell you?”
Now Simone was really worried. She’d driven the past four days to get here, sleeping in her car because she didn’t have money for a motel room if she wanted to eat. And now it appeared as though she was about to be sacked.
Before she even started.
Hopefully they’d let her stay the night. She’d been looking forward to a warm bed with a comfy mattress.
She was almost too afraid to ask. “Didn’t tell me what?”
Something was apparently hilarious because Mrs Simpson looked like she was about to pee her pants she was laughing so much.
“This I gotta see,” she said, then proceeded to make a warm drink for Simone. “I’m sorry. It’s really not funny.” Mrs Simpson pulled herself together and reached for a mug.
“Am I,” Simone braced herself. She felt nauseated, and probably would have brought up her supper – if she’d had any. Which she hadn’t. “Mrs Simpson,” she said abruptly, bile moving up her throat. “Am I going to lose my job?”
The other woman suddenly stopped laughing and put a kindly arm around the young girl. “My dear girl, I am not the one who does the hiring and the firing. That’s Mr Hadley.”
Simone frowned.
“But I doubt you’ll be fired. He’s had a hard time getting anyone to come way out here. In fact, you’re the only one who answered his advert in months.” She squeezed Simone’s shoulder. “You’re shivering, dear girl. Are you cold?”
“A little, but more scared, I think.”
Suddenly she found herself pulled into a warm bear hug. After years of cooking, there were mounds of cuddly all over the older lady. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” She pushed Simone away and stared into her face.
“Here’s the thing – on a ranch we cook breakfast and supper. We bake too. For all the boys.” She continued to stare.
“Right.” That didn’t sound too hard. She’d cooked for her family before. Baked even. “I can do that.”
Mrs Simpson frowned at her. “I don’t think you understand, girly. Those boys in there? They’re not the only ones.”
Simone’s head was in a whirl? Not the only ones? How many other men were there in this family, and where were they?
“So how many more Hadley’s are there?”
“My dear girl,” Mrs Simpson said firmly. “I cook for around thirty at each meal.”
Simone stood staring at her, eyes opened wide. If she clamped her teeth any tighter, she’d smash them into tiny pieces.
* * *
It was a shock, there was no doubt about, but Simone just had to grin and bear it. There was no other option.
Leaving definitely wasn’t an option. With no money, and no other means of support, she was in a very difficult situation.
She sipped her hot chocolate, looking around the room, trying to size up each of the men. It didn’t work. Finally, she excused herself, citing the long drive for making her so tired.
Everyone seemed so nice.
“Set your alarm for 4:30,” Mrs Simpson had told her. Breakfast is served at 5:30 and we have to prepare it much earlier.”
It got worse and worse at every turn.
Simone had never gone to bed before eight before. Heck, she’d rarely gone before ten!
She listened to the quiet of night on the ranch. It was so peaceful here. A far cry from the noise of the city.
She lay in bed and listened to wind blow through the trees, to the owls hooting, and to the sound of horses neighing.
It was too quiet. She lay there in the silence, churning things over in her mind. What if she didn’t cut it? What if she couldn’t cope, or they hated her, or her cooking?
A tear rolled down her cheek, and she was tempted to give in and sob her heart out, but knew the family would hear her, with her room being so close to the living room.
She heard the laughter of four men enjoying themselves, then footsteps and all went quiet. Had they too gone to bed?
The little light that was creeping in under her door was gone. She was suddenly in total blackness.
She crept out of bed and silently locked the door. Simone was suddenly afraid – of her future on Silver Shoe Ranch – but knew, given her circumstances, she would have to suck it up and get on with it.
For now, anyway.
* * *
“We’re self sufficient on this ranch,” Mrs Simpson told her. “The first thing you need to learn is how to slice bacon off the bone.”
She handed over the bacon and the sharpest knife Simone had ever seen.
“I, um,” She didn’t want to touch the knife, she was sure it would do some serious damage.
Mrs Simpson frowned at her. “Listen, Simone,” she said, more than a little annoyed. “You’re a nice girl. I don’t want to see you lose this job. Watch me.”
“You make it look so easy.” This time she took the knife and looked to the older woman for reassurance.
“Not too chunky. Keep it reasonably thin.” She talked Simone through her first two cuts. “Now try it on your own.”
Simone concentrated hard. It wasn’t as easy as Mrs Simpson made it seem. “How’s t
hat?” She was again looking for reassurance.
“Well done! Now keep going.”
Simone yawned. She was so not used to these early mornings. The sun hadn’t even risen when her alarm went off, and the house was silent except for the movements of Mrs Simpson making coffee in the kitchen.
“Righto, finish cutting all that lot, then we’ll start cooking.”
Simone stared at her. “All of it?”
“All of it. We’ll have thirty hungry cowboys at the table in as many minutes.” She snatched up a basket and headed out the door. “I’m off to collect the eggs. You’ll need to do that each morning too, but I’ll show you another time.” She was a kindly lady, and patted Simone on the back. “You’ll get there. I have no doubt about that.”
Simone nodded and continued to cut the bacon into slices as Mrs Simpson left.
“Good morning!” It was Beau. How was he so bright and cheery at such an early hour.
“Oh no! I must be running late,” she exclaimed at the sight of him.
“Calm down,” he said. “I like to rise a little earlier than the others, so I can enjoy my coffee in peace.”
He reached over and flipped the jug on, then pulled down a mug and prepared it for his coffee.
The muscles in his back rippled across under his shirt. She couldn’t pull her eyes away.
“Would you like one?”
She ripped her eyes back to the job at hand and grimaced. “I’d love one but haven’t got time. Thanks though. Maybe later?”
He watched as she struggled with the job at hand. “Here, let me help.” He reached over and took the knife.
“Get your damned hands off that knife, young Beau!” Mrs Simpson yelled. “She won’t learn with you helping out.”
He let go of the knife and threw his hands in the air. “She can be a viper,” he whispered, but Simone could see he was having difficulty withholding a smirk.
“I heard that. Make your coffee and get out of my kitchen!”
“But, but, isn’t Beau your boss,” Simone asked. “How can you kick him out?”
Her Christmas Surprise Page 1
