A Cowgirl's Christmas

by C. J. Carmichael

  “I remember,” Callan said. “He got the call, and ten minutes later he was on the road.”

  “He was such a tough guy, yet he did care,” Sage concluded.

  Once upon a time, Callan had believed this with all her heart. But now she couldn’t help but wonder. Had her father driven all that way out of concern? Or because he’d felt it was something he owed their mother?

  “So what happens now?” Dani asked, looking at Callan.

  Callan shrugged. “What do you mean?”

  “After we all leave—what will you do?”

  Chatter at the table ceased as everyone waited to hear what she’d say.

  “It’s so awful that Hawksley didn’t leave you the ranch,” Mattie said. “I still can’t believe it.”

  “We should contest the will,” Dani said. “It simply isn’t fair.”

  Callan shook her head. “I wouldn’t want the Circle C that way. And it’s not as if we were left high and dry.”

  “At least dad let you have the house,” Sage said.

  Callan shook her head. “I don’t want that either.”

  “But—what will you do with it?” Sage asked.

  “Might as well try to sell it to Court. He has everything else.”

  Worried glances were exchanged around her. Callan dropped her gaze and took a drink of her tea.

  Baby Bev started to fuss and Eliot got up to attend to her. Nat stood up a few seconds later. “Sounds like the Carrigan sisters need to have a family meeting. Portia and Wren, would you help me load our luggage into the SUV?”

  Dawson nodded. “I’ll help Eliot pack up the baby stuff.”

  And then it was just Callan and her three sisters. She could see that they were concerned about her, but she just wanted to be left alone. “I might look for a place outside of Marietta. Nothing too big, just enough so I can own a few horses. Eventually I’ll have to look for work.” She glanced down at the half-eaten sandwich on her plate. All she knew was ranching. But the idea of working somewhere other than the Circle C was not appealing.

  “Oh, Callan.” Mattie squeezed her hand. “This is so unfair to you. And it’s all been such a huge shock. Please give yourself a few months before you make any big decisions.”

  “Mattie’s right,” Sage agreed. “Honey, you should stay here. It’s your home.”

  “It doesn’t feel that way, anymore.”

  “That’s what you say now. But I agree with the others. You should take some time before you do anything rash.”

  “Plus, it would be nice to have at least one last Christmas at the Circle C,” Sage added.

  The wistful tone in her voice made Callan realize that this wasn’t just about her. All three of her sisters had been stripped of their birthright and their home as well. Even though they’d all moved on and made new lives for themselves, they still had an emotional investment in the Circle C.

  “I’ll stay until December,” she promised them. She would give her sisters one last Christmas at the Circle C Ranch.

  After lunch, everyone began to hustle with preparations for travel. Once all the luggage was loaded, they gathered out on the porch. Farewells were rushed, which was the way Callan preferred them. Protracted good-byes were not her thing.

  First Nat and Mattie got on the road for their drive back to Flathead Valley. Then Eliot, Dani and the baby, as well as Portia and Wren, drove off to catch their flights in Bozeman. Sage and Dawson were the last to leave, headed to Marietta.

  Callan waved and waved, until suddenly everyone was gone, and all she was looking at was an empty road and a sky heavy with low grey clouds. The wind whipped up, tossing her hair into her eyes and making her shiver again.

  She retreated inside, to a house that had never seemed so cavernous before. She wandered through the rooms on the main floor, pausing at the door to her father’s study. His desk was covered with stacks of paper. One of the filing cabinet drawers was so full it didn’t close properly. In another corner was the armchair, positioned to view the old TV built into the bookshelves. Whenever they had guests this was where Hawksley retreated to watch his programs.

  He had not been a fan of paperwork or computers. But all those stacks of bills, accounts and records were Court’s problem, now.

  Back in the family room, she stopped in front of the black velvet bag containing the rest of Hawksley’s ashes. Pain flowed in waves through her body. Just four days ago, they’d been saddling up those colts. She’d been so happy. It had been such a beautiful autumn day. And even her fath—Hawksley, he had been happy, too. Or as close to happy as he got. There had been that hint of a smile on his face, less than an hour before his collapse.

  A heavy knock sounded at the front door and Callan actually jumped. Her first reaction was annoyance—who would be bothering her at a time like this? And then it occurred to her that someone must have forgotten a cell phone or something.

  She hurried to the door and flung it open.

  And there was Court McAllister.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Court was wearing jeans and boots, a black coat and a black wool Resistol cowboy hat. His posture reminded her of Clint Eastwood in one of those old Westerns.

  “What are you doing here?”

  He glanced away, then back at her. “Might as well take care of those ashes. If you’re up to it.”

  “Of course I’m up to it. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  He shrugged. “Maybe a little too much bourbon last night?”

  “How would you know about that?” She hadn’t seen him set foot in Grey’s all night. Mind you, she’d spent the last hour all but passed out at her table, waiting for one of her pals to give her a lift home.

  “I’m sure you showered but I can smell it on you. Alcohol’s a poison, Callan. One of the ways the body gets rid of it is by excreting it from your pores.”

  God, but this man was annoying. “Give me a minute to get ready. I’ll meet you at the horse barn.”

  Callan went to her room to brush her teeth and re-apply her deodorant. Not because of what Court had said about her smelling like alcohol, but because she wanted to. Then she changed into work clothes, including a heavy sweater and a down vest, before adding her own boots and hat. She was almost out the door when she remembered one last thing.

  The ashes.

  She dashed back to the family room to get the bag, then headed outdoors toward the horse barn. None of the hired men were around. She assumed Red had given them jobs to prepare for rounding up the cattle in the next day or so. Court was at the fence, his back to her as he watched the horses grazing in the paddock. Callan let out a piercing whistle and this time it was Court who jumped.

  She smiled. It had been a petty move on her part. But so worth it.

  Montana Sapphire trotted happily toward her, and Callan felt immediately guilty for having neglected her horse these past few days. She offered up a carrot stick as atonement, and Sapphire nuzzled her in return. Callan’s throat thickened at the horse’s sweet forgiveness. Horses were social creatures and Callan knew poor Sapphire was going to miss the Circle C as much as she would when the time came to leave.

  “Which horse should I ride?” Court asked.

  If she really wanted to be mean, she could suggest Hawksley’s Zorro. The old horse had never tolerated anyone but his owner on his back. But that wouldn’t be fair to old Zorro. “Try that old, grey horse—Pinstripes is his name. He’s nice and steady.”

  Court’s gaze narrowed at the implied insult to his riding abilities, but he just nodded and then hopped the fence. At some point he must have gone into the tack room, because he had a halter in his hand. Less than a minute later he was leading the brindle quarter horse into the barn.

  In silence, they brushed then saddled up their horses. When Callan noticed Court eyeing the antique saddle that had belonged to her grandfather, she said. “Pretty, isn’t it? Worth more than a small car.”

  “I’m not surprised. It looks like an antique.”

  “Yeah.
It belonged to—” She hesitated, choosing her words carefully, “—Hawksley’s father.”

  Court ran his hand over the tool work on the skirting. “What a unique design. I’ve never seen anything like this.”

  He spoke as if he’d seen a lot of saddles, which didn’t seem likely for an accountant. “Well, it’s yours now.”

  He removed his hand quickly, like it had been scorched. “No. It should be yours.”

  “Don’t see why. It belongs to the Circle C Ranch and the Circle C belongs to you.”

  He gave her a long look then said slowly, “I suppose. But I’d still like it to be yours. If you want it.”

  “Shouldn’t you be more worried about what Hawksley wanted? I’m assuming he intended the saddle to stay in the family. The blood-line, so to speak.”

  Court went silent for a bit. Then he turned to look at her. “So. You know, then?”

  “That I’m only Hawksley’s adopted daughter? Yeah. My sisters and I found out yesterday.” She put the velvet bag into one of the saddle bags, trying to pretend her fingers weren’t shaking and hoping Court wasn’t the observant sort. “Ready?”

  Five minutes later they were beyond the first gate, heading out toward the foothills, taking a different route from the one she and her father had set out on four days ago. Callan was disappointed to see that Court was a technically flawless rider, if rather stiff. She’d been hoping to offer him some pointers, put him in his place.

  Frustrated, she urged Sapphire faster, getting to the next gate first and making a show of waiting for Court to catch up.

  “Didn’t know it was a race,” he said, as he urged old Pinstripes though to the next field.

  “Might as well get this over with.” She glanced up at the mountains, not liking the heavy clouds that were settling around the peaks. “Looks like snow is coming.”

  “Have the cattle been moved in, yet?”

  She was surprised by the question, which showed he knew at least a few basics about cattle ranching. “No. We were already running late thanks to Sage’s wedding. Then with Hawksley’s heart attack this week we lost a few more precious days.”

  She stopped, as she caught her mistake. “I mean you lost a few precious days. Have you spoken to Red, yet?”

  “No. I take it he’s the foreman?”

  “Your foreman. Yes.”

  Abruptly Court urged his horse forward and then to the right, cutting her off and forcing her to bring Sapphire to a halt. “Would you stop it, already? The will is in probate. I won’t actually own it for a long while. Even once all the legal stuff is settled, none of this should affect you or your position here.”

  “Oh, really?” she mocked. “A week ago I was the daughter of the owner. Now I’m a—what? Paid employee? Speaking of which, just what wages are you willing to offer me to stay on the Circle C?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Oh, really?” He had that smug expression again, the one she really hated. Even worse, he was working old Pinstripes this way then the other, keeping her and Sapphire trapped like a cornered cow. “You expect me to work for free?”

  “Why not? Like you said in the bar the other night, you’re a rich woman. You don’t need wages.”

  Inwardly she cringed with embarrassment. There wasn’t much about that night she took pleasure in remembering. But she wouldn’t back down, or let him know he’d scored a hit. “Maybe I don’t need them, but I sure as hell wouldn’t work for free. I wouldn’t work for you, period.”

  With a sharp jab of her heels, she urged Sapphire forward, brushing past old Pinstripes with just an inch to spare. Without a backward glance, she rejoined the old trail, pushing Sapphire to keep the lead as they rode through the pines, crossing a few dried-up creeks, slowly gaining elevation until they reached a knoll with a pretty view to the west and north.

  She knew Court was following. She could hear him and Pinstripes behind her and sometimes when she turned her head she caught a glimpse of them. But he didn’t challenge her lead and didn’t come up alongside of her until she brought Sapphire to a standstill.

  “Is this the place?” Court asked.

  The ride had put some color in his face, which made his eyes look bluer than ever. Even the sky seemed pale in comparison. He was in better shape than she’d figured, hardly out of breath, his posture still straight. He looked like he could keep doing this all day.

  “Yeah. This is the place.” She pulled the bag of ashes from the saddle bag, hesitated then handed it to him.

  With his eyes, Court asked her if she was sure, and she nodded. He returned the gesture, then urged Pinstripes forward so they were downwind of her and Sapphire.

  “Happy trails, Hawksley. Until we meet again.”

  Then he released a cloud of ashes into the air. The wind caught them and scattered them, lifting them so high Callan wouldn’t be surprised if they made it all the way to the peaks of the Gallatins.

  Tears came to her eyes, even though she didn’t want them, even though she was biting the inside of her cheek so hard she could taste blood. Why should she feel sad about losing a father who had never really loved her, or accepted her as his own?

  She wouldn’t, damn it. She just wouldn’t.

  She wheeled her horse around and headed for home, pushing the pace harder than was good for the horses, yet needing to challenge herself, and yes, challenge Court, as well. Back at the barn, she could tell he wasn’t happy by the way he narrowed his eyes when he looked at her. But he said not a word as they groomed their mounts and cleaned the tack.

  Not until they were done did he finally speak. “I know you’re upset. But that wasn’t fair to the horses.”

  He was right. Damn it. But she wouldn’t apologize. “Well, then, I guess you’re glad you won’t have to put up with me any longer.” She started for the house, but Court stepped in front of her. She remembered the maneuver he’d pulled on her in the bar and tensed, but he didn’t touch her.

  “We need to talk. We can do it out here in the wind and the cold. Or you could invite me inside and make us a pot of coffee.”

  She considered her options. Saying no was her favorite. But that would be postponing the inevitable. It had already been a crappy day, with little prospect of improvement. So why not get this over with?

  “Okay.”

  He seemed surprised. Perhaps he’d been expecting more of an argument.

  “Okay,” he repeated, stepping aside and walking with her to the back entrance where they removed their boots and jackets then washed up before entering the main house.

  The aroma of the bacon her sisters had cooked for breakfast still clung in the kitchen and the dish rack was full of the extra glasses Mattie had washed after lunch because they wouldn’t fit in the dishwasher. Reminders that just a few hour ago all her family had been here.

  But now they’d returned to their regular lives and routines.

  She was the only one who couldn’t go back, because her normal life had changed forever.

  Mattie had washed out the coffee maker, too, so it was a simple matter to put on a fresh pot. While they waited for that, Callan pulled out a tray of baking Mrs MacCreadie had brought over yesterday.

  They sat at cross corners on the island, and each of them reached for a gingersnap at the same time. Callan quickly withdrew her hand, waited for him, then selected her own cookie. It was moist and spicy, creamy and sweet. She glanced from the cookie to Court and found him watching her.

  Those blue eyes. They were rather disconcerting.

  She’d underestimated one thing about him. Today he’d proved he could ride a horse. But it took a hell of a lot more than that to run a ranch like the Circle C.

  “I’d like to make you an offer,” he said, resting his arms on the island and leaning in her direction.

  She waited.

  “Live in this house. Keep working on the Circle C. Give it one year.”

  She eyed him suspiciously. “What’s in it for me?”

  “After one fu
ll year, I’ll deed half the ranch back to you. You and I will continue to run the place. Fifty-fifty partners.”

  She choked, coughed. Had to get up for some water. “Why would you do that?”

  “It seems like a fair compromise, respecting Hawksley’s wishes but also your rights as a legal daughter who has spent all her adult life on this ranch.”

  She considered the offer. She would effectively be signing up for a lifetime business partnership with this man - man whose capabilities she knew very little about. “A week ago, we’d never even met each other. Now you’re offering me a lifelong partnership venture.”

  “You have a lot of knowledge and history with this place. I could use that. Plus, I recognize how unfair Hawksley’s will must seem to you.”

  “Do you, really? Then why don’t you give me one-hundred percent of the ranch? I’d be happy to give up my share of Hawksley’s money in exchange.”

  “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

  “Of course I would! I don’t care about the damn investments.” The money was meaningless to her if it meant she couldn’t own the Circle C.

  “Have you given any thought to why Hawksley left me the ranch in the first place?”

  “Because you’re related by blood. And you’re a man.” Just saying the words left a bad taste in her mouth.

  “There’s more to it than that. Your grandfather Carrigan had a sister—who was my grandmother. She was shut out of the will when our great-grandfather died. She married Arthur McAllister and they had one child—my father, Aaron. If my grandmother had been given her fifty percent of the family ranch, it would have been handed down to my dad andyour father recognized how unfair that was. A long time ago, he offered to right the wrong, but my father was already settled in St. Paul and my mother didn’t want to move. That’s when they came up with the plan to give me the ranch after Hawksley died.”

  Callan stared at him. She knew just how his grandmother must have felt back then. “But why give you the entire ranch, rather than just the fifty percent share your father would have inherited?”