A Cowgirl's Christmas

by C. J. Carmichael

  The last few months had been rough on Dani. Giving birth had been difficult enough, but she’d had to extract herself from a painful relationship with the baby’s father and then deal with the reality of a child born with handicaps.

  Callan didn’t want to put one more problem on her plate. But this sort of news—it had to be told. And she was relieved when Dani reacted with characteristic calm logic.

  “Well, we’d all seen a decline in him this past year so I can’t say the news is a shock. I’ll book my flight right away, but Eliot will probably want to come so we won’t arrive until tomorrow.”

  Callan took a deep breath. Dani had always had a settling effect on her. Probably because after their mother died it had been second-eldest Dani who had stepped into the role of caregiver to herself and Sage, since Mattie was already married with babies of her own.

  “Leave the arrangements until I get there,” Dani continued.

  It took a moment for Callan to understand what Dani met, and then she almost moaned. The funeral. That’s what Dani meant by ‘arrangements.’ She definitely did not want to deal with that. “Okay.”

  “Good. And don’t worry about food or changing linens on the beds or anything else. Sage, Mattie and I will take care of all of that. You just take care of yourself.”

  “You’re talking like I’m some sort of baby.”

  “Hardly. But you are the youngest. And you were definitely the closest to Dad.”

  Callan couldn’t argue with either point. She’d just turned twenty-six, but she would always be the youngest Carrigan sister. And she knew very well that her other sisters—especially Mattie and Dani—had serious issues with their father. Not just because he hadn’t been the warmest or kindest man. No, they resented him for how he’d treated their mother. But Callan had been so young when her mother died, those memories weren’t as strong for her.

  Callan tucked her phone back into her pocket, feeling exhausted. The call to Dani had lasted only ten minutes. That meant it would still be about fifty minutes before Sage arrived. She ought to do something with that time. Despite her promise to Dani, she could at least freshen the linens in her sisters’ old bedrooms. Or take something out of the freezer for dinner.

  But she couldn’t get that last glimpse of her father out of her mind.

  How could it have happened so fast? One minute her dad was smiling at her. And then he was collapsed on the ground. It seemed so...arbitrary. And unfair. If only...

  Callan shook her head, not wanting to let the same thoughts circle round and round her brain but unable to stop them.

  Only hard work would distract her. Maybe she should go out and help with the fencing. She was on her way to the mud room to get her work gloves when the damn phone rang.

  She paused. Had word gotten out about Hawksley’s death already? She didn’t want to deal with sympathy calls yet. But she had to check in case it was one of her sisters, so she pulled out the phone.

  Ren Fletcher’s name popped out at her.

  Dad’s lawyer.

  She leaned her back against the mudroom wall and hit “talk.”

  “Callan here.”

  “Hi, Callan, this is Ren Fletcher. I’ve heard the news about your father. I’m terribly sorry.”

  “Yeah.” She could only trust herself to utter one syllable without crying.

  “I’d like to come by the ranch and talk to you and your family, if you don’t mind. Hawksley left his final instructions with me, as well as his will.”

  “Oh.” This was good. This meant they wouldn’t have to make all the choices about the funeral themselves. “My sisters should be here by tomorrow afternoon. So if you could come around four that would work.”

  Ren cleared his throat. “Your sisters...yes, that’s good. I’d also like your cousin from St. Paul to be there.”

  She was drawing a blank again. And then she remembered. Yes, the cousin from St. Paul. “You mean Aaron McAllister?” Aaron and her dad had spent their boyhood summers together on the Circle C. The cousin was married and had a son of his own, but that was all she recalled. “I’ll have to check Dad’s papers. Hopefully he has their phone number written somewhere.”

  “No need, Callan. I’ve already called them.”

  “You have?”

  “Your father mentioned you and your sisters have never met that side of the family. Part of his instructions to me were that immediately upon his death I was to call Aaron McAllister myself.”

  “Okay. Well thanks. Do you think he and his wife will come for the funeral?”

  There was a pause at the other end. “Aaron’s wife June had a stroke a few months ago and he’s unable to leave her. Their son is coming, however. His name is Court.”

  Court McAllister. She wondered what he was like and how well had he known her father. It was a long way to travel for someone he would have seen only once a year. “With my sisters home we won’t have much room at the house.”

  “Oh, don’t worry about that. I’ve booked him a room at the Graff Hotel.”

  Pricey place. Her cousin must be well off. “He should only need to stay a few days. I imagine my sisters will want to have the funeral as soon as possible.”

  Ren cleared his throat again. “Yes, well, we need to talk about that. I strongly suggest you not plan anything until our meeting tomorrow afternoon.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Court McAllister stood in the lobby of the Graff Hotel, waiting for his Visa to be processed so he could get the key to his room. He’d been up at six that morning, to the airport by seven, and traveling ever since.

  He was tired. Sad about his Uncle Hawksley’s death. And more than a little trepidatious about meeting the Carrigan girls in a couple hours.

  But none of that prevented him from admiring the rich panelled wood and marbled flooring of the remodeled hotel. He hadn’t expected Marietta, Montana to offer anything this beautiful and impressive.

  How many other surprises were in store for him this trip?

  A lot, he hoped.

  Like, maybe he’d find the Carrigans to be warm, welcoming and friendly.

  Now there was a fantasy. Maybe they would be at first. But once they found out what was in their father’s will? He’d be lucky if they didn’t point a shotgun in his face.

  If someone did, it would be Callan. She was the one Hawksley spoke of most often, usually with a hint of pride, even though he tried not to show it. He said she was tough, confident, hard-working and stubborn.

  As for her social skills, those seemed to be comprised of being able to out-drink and out-snooker the other cowboys who hung out at the bar with her on Friday nights. Must be quite the character this Callan. He wished he could say he was looking forward to meeting her.

  “Here’s your key, Mr McAllister. I hope you enjoy your stay in Marietta.”

  He managed a brief smile at the woman, then picked up his suitcase and carry-on and headed directly to his room. Once there, he showered quickly and changed into jeans and a blue shirt, throwing a leather jacket over top, then pulling on his boots.

  He’d travelled in loafers. But he guessed the boots would be more appropriate for his first visit to the Circle C.

  The time was creeping up on three-thirty. Soon that lawyer, Ren Fletcher, would be coming to pick him up and drive him out to the ranch. Court was excited about seeing it for the first time. He’d heard so much about the Circle C from his father and Hawksley. They had so many stories from their years as young boys, growing up on the backs of horses and roaming over hundreds of acres with the sort of freedom Court could hardly imagine.

  He was what his father and Hawksley called ‘a city kid.” Raised in St. Paul, where he’d gone to college, trained and now worked as a CPA, his only experience on horseback came from the weekends he’d spent with his parents on their land outside of the city, where they kept a handful of horses.

  Theoretically he knew a lot about ranching—Hawksley talked about little else during his visits each Christmas. B
ut in practice he was a greenhorn.

  Once he was ready, Court headed down to the lobby to wait for Ren. The lawyer had sounded intelligent and thoughtful over the phone. He’d also demonstrated a certain sensitivity to the situation, cautiously warning Court about the potential for trouble.

  Before he’d left, his father had given him a pep talk, too.

  “Remember son, this is righting a long-ago wrong. And it’s what Hawksley wanted. It meant a lot to him.”

  After a quick study of the lobby, Court stepped outside. The Montana air had a bite, but the sky was blue and sun was still warm as it fell on his face. He squinted and glanced around. On the other side of Front Avenue was a pizza parlor that might come in handy. He doubted he’d need the bridal shop or kids clothing store next to it. But the Palace Movie Theatre could be promising. He hadn’t seen either of the feature films.

  He was just checking the show times when an SUV drove up and a man called out from the open window. “Court McAllister?”

  “Yup.” He hopped in the passenger side, then shook hand with the dark-haired man in the driver’s seat. Seemed pretty buff for a small town lawyer. Intelligent, cautious look about him. Court could tell Ren Fletcher was sizing him up, too.

  “You don’t look much like old Hawksley,” Ren Fletcher commented. “Which most people would take as a compliment.”

  “I’m told I take after my mother’s side of the family, as far as looks go.”

  “So your old man used to spend his summers at the Circle C?”

  Court nodded. “Among the happiest days of his life, going by the stories. I’m looking forward to seeing the place.”

  “It won’t disappoint.”

  On the drive up, Ren provided a running commentary about the history of the town and when they turned off the main highway onto the road that traversed Paradise Valley, he pointed out the ranches. They’d been driving a good while when he suddenly eased off the accelerator. “This is the Sheenan place. Bill Sheenan was probably one of the people your uncle most disliked in the world.”

  “Some sort of land or water dispute?” Court guessed at the most likely cause of friction between two neighboring ranchers.

  “They used to pretend it was,” Ren said. “But the real cause of their discord was the good old-fashioned love-triangle.”

  “I know Hawksley was crazy about his wife, Beverly. The year she died was the only time he didn’t come up for a visit. And the next time we saw him, he’d changed. Dad said Beverly’s death aged him ten years.”

  “Yes, well, Hawksley wasn’t the only man around Marietta who loved Beverly.”

  “You mean Sheenan?”

  “Bill. Yes. But he died as well this year.” Ren shook his head. “Lots of changes.”

  “Do you know who’s taking over that ranch?”

  “Not sure. Will is still in probate.”

  Court stared out the window, spellbound for a moment by the beauty, the colors, the enormity of it all. Up ahead was the Circle C, comprising all the land up to the snow-capped mountains on the horizon. “Speaking of wills...”

  Ren held up his hand. “Not yet, Court. One thing at a time. First, you meet the family.”

  The night after her father died was the longest of Callan’s life. Sage made her some soup for dinner, then turned on the country music station and played cribbage with her until Mattie and Nat arrived. The four of them talked for hours, then Mattie and Nat retired upstairs to sleep.

  Sage and Callan resumed their cribbage match. Shortly after two a.m. Sage stretched out on the sofa and fell asleep. Callan, who was six inches shorter, took the love seat, and despite being reasonably comfortable, only managed to doze off around three. An hour later she awoke abruptly with her heart pounding and the sense that something terrible had happened.

  And of course it had.

  She drifted back to sleep eventually, waking just before dawn to the sound of someone making coffee in the kitchen.

  She found Mattie at the kitchen sink, dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt, her thick brown hair tied back from her pretty face. Judging from the dark circles under her eyes, she hadn’t slept well either.

  “Morning. Where’s Nat?” Callan slid onto a stool at the island and yawned. A box of half-eaten chocolates that Sage had brought with her last night was open in front of her so she grabbed one. The flavor was lost on her, she might as well have been eating gruel for all she enjoyed it.

  “He’s gone out to help with chores.” Mattie was holding a mug under the drip spout of the coffee maker. Once it was full, she passed it to Callan. “Did you get any sleep?”

  “A little. How’s Nat doing?” Just this September, Mattie had learned Nat had multiple sclerosis. So far his symptoms had been mild. When he was tired he had a slight limp. If there was pain he never complained.

  “About the same.” Mattie gave her a brave smile. “We’re hoping he’ll be one of the lucky ones, but MS is so damned unpredictable.”

  Nat was such an active man. Callan knew it would break his heart if he had to stop riding and working on his ranch. She hoped he had many good years left, for both his sake and Mattie’s.

  “Nat is so worried I’m going to regret marrying him. But I’d do it again in a heartbeat. He’s such a great guy, Callan, I can’t believe he was living right next door for all those years and I didn’t realize how perfect he was for me.”

  “You were married to another man. You wouldn’t let yourself think that.” Her sister was an honorable woman. Callan sipped the aromatic coffee. “This is hitting the spot, but I should go look after the horses.”

  Mattie placed her hand over Callan’s. “Why not let Nat handle them for you? It’s going to be a busy day. My girls, and Dani, Eliot and the baby will all be here soon, and then we have the meeting with the lawyer at four.”

  “The lawyer and Court McAllister,” Callan reminded her. She was terribly curious about this mystery cousin of theirs. “It’s so strange that in all these years we never met anyone from that side of the family.”

  “I agree. It’s almost as if Dad deliberately wanted to keep us apart.”

  “Is that coffee I smell?” Sage called out from the family room.

  For the rest of that morning Callan was busy with her sisters, first helping Mattie and Sage cook a big breakfast then preparing bedrooms for Mattie’s twins, and Dani, Eliot and baby Bev.

  Everyone would be arriving together. Portia had coordinated her travel with Dani and Eliot, while Wren, coming in from Denver, was arriving in Bozeman at around the same time.

  “I hope Dani rented a large SUV,” Sage said.

  Callan nodded. “This house is going to be filled to the rafters again.” It hadn’t been long since Sage’s wedding, only that had been a much happier time. “Lucky thing you and Dawson didn’t decide on a long honeymoon.”

  “Our weekend in Vegas was fun. Dawson didn’t want to be away from Savannah longer than that and I agreed with him.”

  No sooner had lunch dishes been slotted into the dishwasher than a horn honked from outside, announcing the arrival of the packed SUV, with Eliot at the wheel. The baby was crying, and Dani was the first one out, rushing her hellos so she could get inside to feed and change baby Bev.

  While Mattie hugged her daughters moments after they emerged from the back seat, Nat and Eliot unloaded suitcases. Callan directed them to the proper rooms then went to help Eliot set up baby Bev’s portable crib in their room. She was still trying to get a read on Eliot, whom she’d first met at Sage and Dawson’s wedding. Eliot was a divorce attorney from Seattle. Charming, funny, but very urban and sophisticated, too.

  Callan wasn’t convinced Eliot was the right man for Dani. Though she acted all confident and professional, Dani was more vulnerable than she let on, especially now that she had a baby to look after.

  “So how is Dani doing?” she asked, as Eliot quickly set up the crib. Clearly he’d done this before and didn’t need assistance from her. Score one for the divorce atto
rney.

  “She’s amazing. Such a natural mother. Thanks to the nanny she’s hired, she’s even found time to start working from home a few hours a day.”

  For Dani, who loved her research, that was a good thing. And since it was Eliot who had found the nanny, Callan supposed he deserved a point for that, as well.

  “You’re not bad for a city guy,” she concluded as they left the room together.

  Eliot laughed. “So have I won you over, then?”

  “Not quite. But you’re getting there.”

  Around two o’clock, when Portia and Wren were taking baby Bev for a walk and the guys were outside helping repair the fences, Callan had her first opportunity to talk privately with her three sisters. They were all in the kitchen, sipping coffee and nibbling at chocolate.

  “So tell us how it happened,” Dani said, looking awesome in dark jeans and a turquoise cardigan. You would never guess she’d delivered a baby less than two months ago.

  Though Callan had described their father’s death to each of them over the phone, she understood that they wanted to hear it together. And she, too, was anxious to air the story again, this time including details she’d forgotten the first time around. So she started at the beginning, including every single thing she could remember.

  When she got to the part where her father had collapsed, and she’d found him on the ground, she had to stop. Mattie wrapped her in a hug, then Sage moved in and Dani, too. After a few moments, Callan continued.

  “When Dad came to, the first time, he said something. Though he was looking in my direction, it sounded like he was talking to Mom. I’m not sure he even recognized me.”

  “What did he say?” Sage asked.

  “I kept my word, Bev. I kept my word.” She’d repeated the words to herself so often, she knew she had them exactly right.

  “I wonder what his promise was?” Mattie looked thoughtful.

  “Did he say anything else?” Dani asked.