“Of course you were.” Mattie settled in the chair Court had used earlier. “Anyone in your shoes would be. I feel angry on your behalf.”
“But it wasn’t really Court you were mad at, was it?” Dani asked, pulling an old armchair up to the window. “It was Hawksley.”
“Yes. I was angry at Dad. I always thought, under all his hard ways and gruff words, he really loved us. Loved me.”
“Oh, Callan,” Dani said. “You were so young when Mom died. You transferred all your need for parental approval to Dad. And you tried so hard to be tough so you could earn his love. But he’s gone now. And honey, you don’t have to be tough anymore. You can just be Callan.”
Tears were streaming down Callan’s face again. What a crazy day. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d cried, let alone this much.
“I’m not sure I even know who I am, anymore,” she confessed.
“That’s not true,” Mattie said. “I’ve never known anyone who was more true to herself than you are. It’s that feeling in your gut. The one that tells you one thing is right and another is wrong. That this is important, and something else is not.”
“Mattie’s right,” Sage said. “You’re the youngest but in many ways you’ve also been our leader. You’re the touchstone, our compass, the one who leads us home.”
“So, you’re saying I should trust my feelings...?”
“Yes,” said Mattie and Sage, over top of each other.
“Maybe not,” said Dani. “In most things, yes. But I have a hunch that you may have let your anger and hurt over dad and the will get in the way of your relationship with Court.”
Callan hesitated, not sure if she wanted to open her relationship with Court up for discussion. But her sisters had been pretty helpful so far. “Why do you say that?”
“Because there has to be some reason you didn’t start dancing and singing when Court gave you that envelope,” Dani said. “Think about it.”
Callan thought about it, long and hard. How was she going to feel once all her family was gone and she was alone on the Circle C again? Would the ranch—complete with Red and the guys and all the animals—provide the solace, the meaning and the companionship she required? She tried to picture Court driving away—and never seeing him again.
Then she tried a different scenario. One where Court was at her side. Where they worked and played and loved together.
Suddenly the picture was full of color and life. It even came with a soundtrack. Country music, of course.
It was almost midnight when Court heard a knock at his front door. He set down his glass of bourbon and got up from the arm chair. The birch logs in the fireplace snapped and crackled as he made his way to the door. And his heart beat faster because he could imagine only one visitor at this time of night.
And it was her.
Callan wore her red down vest over her plaid shirt. Snowflakes dusted her glossy, dark hair. She was carrying a flashlight. And the envelope.
What could this mean? Was he foolish to hope?
“Come in. I’ll pour you a drink.”
She pulled off her boots, revealing red and green striped socks. “No thanks. I just want to talk.”
She seemed unsure of herself, which was something he’d never imagined Callan ever feeling. “Want to sit by the fire?”
“That sounds nice.”
She settled on one side of the sofa, twisted to face the fireplace. He added an extra log, then closed the screen and turned back to face her.
He’d laid his heart open to her. Never had he felt more vulnerable. But never more sure he’d done the right thing, either. If she was here to give him a pretty thank-you and go on her way, he’d just have to take the pain and deal with it later.
“Would you sit down? You’re making me nervous.”
Wordlessly he settled on the other side of the sofa, his back to the fire, so he could see her.
“I’m a little bit...emotional today. I want to make sure I understood you correctly.” She cleared her throat, glanced down at the envelope, then back to him. “Did you just tell me that my happiness was more important to you than owning the Circle C?”
He hesitated, reaffirming for himself the truth of the words. “I did.”
“Well then. This won’t work.” She held out the envelope.
“I don’t understand.”
To his astonishment, she rose and went to the fire. First she pushed aside the wire screen, then tossed the envelope inside. The edges went brown and began to curl. The flames devoured the paper greedily. Within seconds the envelope was nothing but ashes.
“But—why did you do that?”
“It won’t make me happy if I get the ranch and you leave. I need to have both, Court. You and the Circle C.”
He almost didn’t believe her. But Callan always shot straight from the hip. “You actually mean that?” He went to her. Circled his arms around her waist. Her eyes shone up at him, the love naked within.
In that instant, as his heart flared with happiness, he had his first hint of what it would be like to be loved by this woman. She would be fierce, loyal and true. And he would never, ever, let her down.
“I love you, Callan.” And then he kissed her.
The heat between them built quickly, just as it had earlier, in the barn. This time, though, there would be no stopping. No turning back.
EPILOGUE
Christmas dinner, a year later
“Well, that was a tasty meal,” great aunt Mabel announced. “Thank you Callan and Court for your hospitality.”
“The least we could do was supply the hospitality,” Callan said. “Since we didn’t do any of the cooking.” Her sisters had prepared all the side dishes and desserts, thank heavens. She couldn’t imagine hosting a holiday without them.
“Excuse me,” Court said, in mock affront. “Are you forgetting who hauled that thirty-pound bruiser in and out of the oven?”
“I’m glad you did, because it was delicious. But I couldn’t eat another bite. I really mean it. Not even one of Sage’s chocolates.” Marshall McKenzie got up from the table, and started to clear away dishes.
Marshall was cousin Eliza’s rugged, outdoor adventuring new husband. They’d met last Christmas on a Nordic ski trip that had turned into a snowbound adventure. They’d been inseparable ever since and had finally tied the knot in a small ceremony at Bramble House two months ago.
“Leave the dishes, please,” Callan said. “Eliza wants us to gather in the family room. She said something about a special Christmas surprise.”
“But we’ve already opened our gifts,” Savannah said, clearly nursing a hope that there might be one or two more left under the tree.
“I think this is something for the grown-ups,” Dawson warned her. He’d eaten dinner with one hand, since his other was monopolized by his seven-month old son. “But you can have another Christmas chocolate if you want. I saw a tray of them in there.”
“Can I have one for Braden, too?” This was a new trick of Savannah’s, something she’d started after the birth of her brother.
Sage laughed. “Why not. Before you know it Braden’s going to be big enough to eat his own treats.”
In the family room, Court settled great aunt Mabel in the hard-backed chair she preferred, before going to sit with Callan on the stone ledge that ran the length of the fireplace. Callan entwined her fingers with his, giving him a smile that she hoped showed him how much she appreciated all he’d done to help the holidays pass so smoothly. Last year she’d been so miserable over the holidays. Yet everything had turned around for her,when she’d opened herself up to the love Court had offered.
Their small wedding had been perfect. They’d had it at the Circle C—which was now legally owned by the both of them—and best of all, Court’s mother had been able to dance a foxtrot with both her husband and Court at the celebration afterward.
Court was the best possible partner for her, in every sense of the world. Under his managemen
t style—so different from her father’s—the Circle C was thriving, not just financially, but in other ways, too. Court was fair and kind, as well as strong and smart. He made Red and the other men feel like valued members of the team.
And with her, he was a passionate and giving lover. Maybe one day they’d have children, but for now, her heart was completely full with love for this man and the life they were building together.
Across from them, settled on the short end of the sectional sofa, sat Sage and Dawson, still holding the baby, while Savannah crouched next to the coffee table to contemplate her chocolate selection.
To their right on the long end of the sofa were the twins, Portia and Wren. They looked so grown up, now. Only a few years ago, they, like Savannah, would have been begging their mother for permission to have more chocolate. But they were much too mature for that now, instead both preferring a small glass of the port that had been served with dessert. Beside Portia sat Nat, and next to him, Mattie, her left hand resting on Nat’s shoulder, the gold band on her fourth finger looking like it had been there forever.
So far Nat’s disease remained in remission, and they were enjoying life to the fullest.
On the other side of the room, sitting in Dad’s old chair, was Dani, pregnant again, this time with Eliot’s child. They’d been married this summer, a small, lovely ceremony at Eliot’s family’s cottage on the Hood Canal. Baby Bev wasn’t walking yet, but she could crawl like nobody’s business, and Eliot had his hands full keeping her from yanking down the ornaments from the Christmas tree.
“So what’s the surprise, Eliza?” Dani asked. She had her hands on her small belly, looking like she wished she could take back that decision to have a second piece of pumpkin pie.
Eliza opened the box Marshall had set next to the tree and began handing out rectangular shaped gifts wrapped in red paper with gold bows. She gave one to great aunt Mabel first, and then the Carrigan sisters: Mattie, Dani, Sage and Callan. As soon as she felt hers, Callan knew it was a book.
She ripped aside the paper eagerly, and there it was. Eliza had completed the Brambles of Marietta, A Family History.
“I hope you’ll all like it,” Eliza said nervously. “I was honest about your mother, but I didn’t mention any of the Sheenans by name. I hope that’s okay.”
“We’re good with the truth, Eliza,” Mattie reassured her. “Thank you so much for this. It will help all of us remember who we are and where we came from.”
“Plus, with all the recipes at the back,” Sage teased, “Maybe next year Callan can do the cooking for Christmas dinner.”
“Dream on,” Callan deflected the joke with a wave of her hand. She was looking forward to reading the family history, but she already knew everything that mattered. It had taken six months for her to gather the courage to read her mother’s diaries.
The frank account of Beverly Carrigan’s struggle to deal with Hawksley’s small cruelties had broken her heart. But her mother had also been honest enough to admit that some of the marital problems had been caused by her own distaste for ranching life and her affair with Bill Sheenan.
In the end, her mother’s tragically shortened life had been filled with joys as well as sorrows and the choices she’d made were the very reason they were all gathered in this room, tonight.
As for Hawksley, whether he had truly loved his daughters or not, the important thing, Callan had decided, was that she had loved him.
Maybe for the next generation of Carrigans life would be easier. All Callan knew for sure was that they were headed in the right direction.
THE END
If you enjoyed this story, you will also love these other books
by C.J. Carmichael:
Carrigans of the Circle C
Hawksley Carrigan, owner of the Circle C Ranch south of Marietta, Montana, always wanted a son to carry on the family name. Unfortunately for him,
he ended up with four daughters.
Book 1: Promise Me, Cowboy
Sage Carrigan’s story – buy it now!
Book 2: Good Together
Mattie Carrigan’s story – buy it now!
Book 3: Close to Her Heart
Dani Carrigan’s story - buy it now!
Book 4: Snowbound in Montana
Eliza Bramble’s story - buy it now!
Book 5: A Cowgirl’s Christmas
Callan Carrigan’s story
An Excerpt from
Promise Me, Cowboy
By C. J. Carmichael
Copyright © 2013
A lot of people believe you can’t keep a secret in a small town, but that simply wasn’t true. Sage Carrigan was only twenty-nine years old and already she had two that would blow the minds of her sisters and her father and the girlfriends who thought they knew every little thing about her.
And one of those secrets was just now stepping into her chocolate shop.
Sage stepped behind the counter, needing something solid to lean on. It was really him, Dawson O’Dell, her biggest secret, her biggest mistake... her biggest weakness.
Right now O’Dell was one of the top ranked cowboys in professional rodeo. She’d met him back in her barrel-racing days, but five years hadn’t changed him much. He still dressed like the bronc-rider he was, in Wrangler jeans and dusty boots, western shirt unbuttoned to the white T shirt beneath. His dark blonde hair was a little too long, and his green eyes a little too astute.
The second his eyes met hers she knew this was no chance encounter.
“Sage.”
He walked right up to the counter and gave her a look that made her instantly remember all the things she had once found so irresistible about this man.
“It’s been a long time,” he added.
He looked at her as if he knew her inside and out. Which he did. Or at least he had. Then his gaze swept the shop, the shelves of attractively packaged chocolate. However you liked it, she had it. Dark chocolate covering silky mint creams, milk chocolate over salt-flecked toffee, chocolate shavings and chocolate mixed with nuts. Bars of dark, milk or white chocolate. Chocolate in the shape of horses, cowboy boots...or the letters from A to Z. And more.
“Quite a departure from barrel-racing.”
“That was kind of the point.” Finally she’d found her voice. And now that the shock of seeing him was settling down, anger began seeping into its place. “If you’re here to buy something—please do it quickly. Otherwise, it would be best if you just left.” She looked pointedly at the door, hoping she’d kept the nerves out of her voice.
He rubbed the side of his face, using his left hand. No wedding ring, she noticed. But then there hadn’t been last time, either.
He gave her a lopsided smile. “Sounds like you’re still a little angry.”
“I’m not angry, O’Dell. Just really not interested in seeing you. Or talking to you. Or even breathing the same air as you.”
His eyebrows went up. “That’s harsh.”
Obviously not harsh enough because he didn’t leave. Instead he wandered to the display of chocolate letters and selected an “S.”
For Sage?
“ I owe you an apology,” he allowed.
“Five years ago you owed me an apology. Now, you just need to walk out that door and let me go on pretending I never met you.”
He sighed like she was the dolt in the classroom who just didn’t get it. “I did try to apologize. But you left town mighty fast.”
Less than twenty-four hours after she crashed on that second barrel, her father had shown up in Casper, Wyoming and had whisked her home. But there had been time for Dawson to reach her. If he’d wanted to.
That had been the last rodeo she’d ever competed in. And it had been the last time she’d let herself get tangled up with a cowboy, too.
“Sage, even if it is a little late, I still want to say it. I was sorry then, and I’m sorry now.”
Damn, if he didn’t look sincere. But she hardened her heart. Facts were facts and how sorry could
he be if he’d waited so long to find her?
Keeping her tone artificially sweet, she asked, “What exactly are you sorry for? Would that be for sleeping with me even though you were married?”
He winced.
“Or for your wife catching me butt naked in your bed and then pointing a rifle in my face?”
His gaze dropped to the counter and he swallowed hard. The words—she’d never spoken them aloud before—hung out there, embarrassing, and true, damn it. All too true.
“Sure sounds bad, when you put it like that.”
“They are the plain and simple facts Now, may I point you in the direction of the door one more time?” She glanced out the window, seeing scores of shoppers out on the street. Would one of you please come in and buy some chocolate? Save me from having to say anything more to this guy?
“I’ll be on my way soon,” he promised. “Let me pay for this first.” He put the “S” on the counter. He’d chosen milk chocolate. She preferred dark.
“That’ll be ten dollars.”
His eyebrows went up. “That’s a lot of money for one piece of chocolate.”
“It’s premium quality. Made from scratch in-house. I buy the beans myself, directly from Venezuela. But if you want to put it back, go right ahead.”
“No, no, I’ll take it.” He pulled out his wallet and counted out a five and some ones.
“For someone special?” she couldn’t resist asking, after placing the confection in a cute paper bag and tying the handles with some copper ribbon. “Susan, maybe? Sandra? Sonya?”
“Savannah, actually.”
She was such a fool for thinking, for even a second, that he’d selected it for her. “Here you go.”
As she handed him the bag, she noticed him checking out her fingers. Oh my God, was he looking to see if she was married, too? What about this Savannah girl? The man was incorrigible.
And lucky. She couldn’t believe they hadn’t been interrupted by another customer during all this time.
“O’Dell?” He was looking at her like she was a toy in a catalogue that he couldn’t afford. “Shouldn’t you be leaving now?”
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