A Rancher for Christmas

by Brenda Minton

  “Let me offer you this lovely welcoming gift.” Joe held out the plant with its bright red flowers.

  “But I...I couldn’t take your poinsettia.”

  “Nonsense.” He smiled and pushed the potted plant at her, settling it in her hands. “I’ve nowhere really to keep it and there’s nothing better than a poinsettia to put a person in the holiday mood.”

  “But it’s yours.”

  “Now it belongs to you.”

  And with a tip of his dirty, bent-up hat, he left. Breezy watched him walk down the street. Then she put the poinsettia in her car, setting it next to the nativity. After locking the car door she looked in the direction Joe had gone, but he’d already vanished from sight. She headed for the grocery store.

  The Martin’s Crossing grocer had hardwood floors, three aisles and a meat counter in the back next to produce that was labeled Locally Grown and Worth It.

  A woman came out from the back of the store through swinging doors, wiping her hands on an apron that hung from her waist. She was middle-aged with short brown hair and an open smile.

  “Well, hello.”

  Breezy smiled as she filled a basket with fruit. “Hello.”

  The woman followed her down the cereal aisle. “I’m Wanda Howard. My husband, Gene, and I own this place. And you must be Lawton’s sister.”

  “Yes, I am.” She smiled and held out a hand. “I’m Breezy Hernandez. I believe I met your husband the other day.”

  “Yes, you did. And we’re looking forward to having you with us at church on Sunday.”

  “Yes, of course.”

  Because that’s what a person did when she lived in a small town where everyone knew her name—she went to church. That person would also have a plant and even a nativity to set out for Christmas each year.

  As she walked back to her car with her bags of groceries, she saw Jake on the long, covered porch of Duke’s. He wore faded jeans, work boots and a shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. She thought that a person who lived in Martin’s Crossing would also manage to be friends with Jake Martin.

  Friendship was easy.

  And then she thought of his many rules and she added one for herself. Rule Number Five: don’t lie to yourself.

  * * *

  Jake unloaded the tub of decorations for his brother Duke and headed across the street to the grocery store to have a talk with Miss Breezy Hernandez.

  “Where are you going?” Duke called out from the door of his restaurant.

  Jake glanced back at his brother. “I need a word with Breezy.”

  “You could...”

  Jake kept walking. He didn’t need Duke’s advice. Duke had always found it a little easier to smile, to joke. Duke hadn’t been the oldest. He hadn’t been the one begging their mother not to pack her bags. Duke hadn’t been the one holding Samantha, just a toddler, as their mother drove away. Or trying to keep Brody from chasing her car.

  That memory was the one that always undid him.

  He raised a hand as he headed across the street, silencing his brother who continued to call out to him. Breezy had come out of the store carrying two bags of groceries. He watched her heft those bags and he couldn’t help but smile. He hoped she wasn’t buying more fake cheese. Or something as un-Texas as veggie burgers.

  The wind whipped her pale blue skirt, wrapping the cotton material around Western boots. She wore a denim jacket and her hair was pulled back in a ponytail. She saw him and smiled.

  It made his step falter a little. It took some of the steam out of him and made him forget what he’d been so determined to tell her. He didn’t know how she did that because it didn’t happen often, that someone sidetracked him.

  “Mr. Martin.”

  “Jake,” he corrected.

  “Of course, Jake.”

  He took one of the bags of groceries and followed her to the little economy car she drove. “There’s a truck in the garage at Lawton’s. You can drive it.”

  “I’m okay with my car.”

  He waited as she opened the door and then he set the bag inside, next to a package from Lefty’s and the poinsettia he’d seen her accept from Joe.

  After she’d closed the car door and stood facing him, he cleared his throat and remembered that he’d approached her for a reason and it had nothing to do with carrying groceries, the lavender scent of her hair or the way she studied him with eyes the color of caramel.

  “I saw you with Joe.”

  “Oh, yes. He gave me a poinsettia.”

  “You need to be more careful,” he started, but stopped when her eyes narrowed to a glare. “I mean, you are going to be a parent. You’ll have the girls to think about.”

  “You’re telling me who I can and can’t talk to?”

  “I’m asking you to be careful with someone you don’t know,” he explained.

  Her smile lit up her eyes. “I don’t really know you.”

  “You’re being purposely difficult.”

  She laughed. “Yes, I am. Are you being purposely bossy?”

  No, he was being derailed, sidetracked and maybe even a little convicted for what he’d said about Joe. “I’m not bossy, I’m careful.”

  “I’m a black belt. I’m very capable of taking care of myself. And that man, Joe, only wanted to do something nice for a stranger. Everyone has been kind today. Lefty gave me a nativity. Mrs. Howard gave me a basket of fruit.”

  “Joe isn’t from Martin’s Crossing. We don’t know anything about him.”

  “Do I need to remind you that you don’t know anything about me?”

  He could have disagreed. But disagreeing would have meant admitting to the private investigator he’d hired when he’d first learned of the will. He should tell her about it. Marty had told him that if they were going to raise the twins together, they needed to be honest and trust each other.

  “I don’t know everything about you, Breezy. But what I’m learning is that you’re too trusting.”

  “I’m not that trusting. And I’m not afraid of Joe. I’ve been Joe. I know what it’s like to be on the streets. If you’re worried about Joe, you should be worried about me.”

  “I’m not worried about you.” He glanced toward Duke’s. This wasn’t getting them anywhere. “Let’s get a cup of coffee.”

  She stood there, wind whipping that blue skirt around her legs. She held her hair back with her hand and smiled at him as he made the offer. They had to start somewhere.

  Because, like it or not, they were in each other’s lives. Lawton and Elizabeth had tied them together, two unlikely people raising two little girls. When Lawton had mentioned it, Jake had tried to talk him out of it. There were better people than him. And Breezy, she was just an unknown.

  Lawton had asked him who would be better. They had no one else they would trust the way they trusted Jake. Breezy, they’d told him, would help him get through.

  It shouldn’t have been like this. It should never have happened at all.

  “I don’t drink coffee.” She paused, studying his face. “But tea would be good.”

  Jake walked with her across the street, aware that anyone who happened to be in town would be watching the two of them. He’d really stepped in a mess this time. And all because of Joe.

  Joe was a man who had done odd jobs around town, been to church a few times, and really hadn’t done more than appear to be suspicious. Because no one knew where he’d come from, where he was staying or when he’d be moving on.

  They walked up the steps of Duke’s. The building was wood-sided, rustic with a long covered porch. In good weather Duke put tables and chairs on that porch for people who wanted to eat outside. This wasn’t exactly good weather. The tables were gone and Duke was decorating for Christmas.

  The holidays an
d life would go on. Without Elizabeth and Lawton. They would all continue to live each day. They would raise the twins. They would be happy. They would laugh again, tell jokes and move on with their lives.

  All of that made Jake real friendly with the punching bag his dad had strung up in the barn years ago. It gave him something to take his anger out on. Even way back when his mom had walked out on them. She’d left without looking back, occasionally sending a letter to let them know how happy she was in whatever state she lived in.

  He’d used that punching bag when he’d caught his ex-fiancée, Alison, cheating on him two months before their wedding. He’d used it when he’d caught Samantha with a hired hand, not doing anything too serious, but serious enough Jake had wanted to hurt the younger man.

  He’d used the punching bag a lot the past couple of weeks as grief had torn him up inside. But the woman standing next to him didn’t need to know that. He reached past her to open the door and she said a soft “Thank you.”

  It was midafternoon and there were few customers in Duke’s this time of day. Even though the sign said to wait to be seated, he motioned her to a booth on the far wall. He waved at John Gordon, owner of the garage next to the gas station.

  “Jake, did you get that backhoe going the other day?” John asked.

  “Sure did, John. But I’ll probably still bring it in.”

  John nodded his head and gave both him and Breezy a careful look before returning to the piece of pie on his plate.

  As they sat down, the doors to the kitchen opened. Duke walked out, a giant with a goatee, shaved head and big grin.

  “Hey, brother, did you decide to come back and help?”

  “Brother?” Breezy repeated.

  “That’s me. Little brother of Jake.” Duke grinned and pulled a chair from a nearby table to sit at the end of their booth. “And you must be Breezy Hernandez?”

  “That’s me.” She smiled at Duke, and Jake didn’t know what to make of that. How in the world did Duke, who looked like he brawled behind buildings, put everyone at ease?

  “My big brother isn’t being too hard to get along with, is he?” Duke said it with a grin directed at Jake, for which Jake wasn’t too thankful.

  “No, of course not.”

  “That’s good to know.”

  Jake turned over the coffee cup that was on the table, settling it in the saucer. Maybe Duke would take the hint.

  Instead Duke, younger by two years, stretched and settled in. Relaxed. Jake hadn’t known many moments in his life like that, when he could let go and pretend everything would get done, everyone would be taken care of.

  “You’re going to help me put those lights up, right?” Duke gave Jake a kick in the shin. He managed to not flinch.

  “Yes, I’m going to help. I dragged them to town for you, didn’t I?”

  “Yes, you did.” Duke continued to study Breezy. “We’re kind of big on Christmas here in Martin’s Crossing,” he explained. “It won’t be easy this year but we’ll all be together.”

  Including Breezy, if she stayed. Family now included her. Jake knew it hadn’t been Lawton’s intention to make him feel responsible for her, but that’s the way it worked.

  “Christmas is a good time for healing.” Duke’s voice was low, sending a strong hint. “I think what we all need is a deep breath and something to help us focus a little.”

  Right, Jake thought, because it was that easy. To forget a sister, a best friend and that the twins had lost their parents.

  Duke nailed him with a look. “It isn’t going to be easy,” Duke responded to Jake’s unspoken thoughts. “But we’ll get through the way we always do. We’re family.”

  “Yes, family.” Jake moved his empty coffee cup. “Do you have a waitress who could pour a cup of coffee and get Breezy a glass of tea?”

  “When did you get so impatient?” Duke grinned as he eased out of the chair, unbending his six feet eight inches of solid muscle to tower over them. Jake was only a few inches shorter than his mammoth brother, but even he was a little intimidated. He looked up, smiling at his little brother, as he liked to think of Duke.

  “Oh, are you the waitress?” Jake asked. “You need a little cap, or an apron, I think.”

  Duke’s eyes narrowed and he growled a little. “You’re asking for it, brother.”

  As Duke walked away, Jake made eye contact with the woman sitting across from him. She drummed her fingers a little on the table and he wondered what in the world he’d done now.

  “So, Christmas with the family. Rule Number Six. Or is it Seven?”

  “Are you really going to keep track?”

  “It seems like the easiest way to stay out of trouble. Church. Check. No scary vagrants. Check. Real cheese. Check.”

  He added, “Christmas with the family. Check.”

  “Gotcha.”

  “You don’t like Christmas?”

  “I do. I’m just...”

  He waited for her to explain. Duke returned with the coffeepot and a glass of tea. “Pie?”

  “Might as well. What do you have?” Jake asked as he reached for the creamer. “Homemade chocolate?”

  “Made it myself.” He stood there for a moment looking from Jake to Breezy, then back again. He grinned a little too big. “I’ll get you a piece and then I guess I’ll make myself scarce.”

  “Sounds like a good idea,” Jake agreed.

  Duke disappeared through the door to the kitchen. Jake’s gaze connected with Breezy’s, and he wondered a little more about her past. He wanted more than the sterile facts uncovered by the private investigator. For a brief moment he saw shades of vulnerability in her eyes and then, quickly, the look was gone. She didn’t like to be vulnerable. She was all about being independent. She was about being in control. Yeah, he got her.

  But understanding her was the last thing he wanted or needed. What he’d like most would be for her to decide Martin’s Crossing was the last place she wanted to be, tied down to him and two little girls. He had a feeling that she wasn’t a quitter. He needed to adjust because she was in his life. For better or worse.

  Chapter Six

  By Friday Breezy was starting to get a routine going. She’d spent the morning with the twins while Jake worked. After they’d left she’d baked some halfway-decent bread. She was teaching herself to cook. People who lived in one place baked. And cooked. Probably from recipes handed down from generation to generation.

  She wanted those recipes. She’d searched through the kitchen hoping to find a book with things like “Grandma’s Vegetable Soup,” or “Aunt Iva’s Homemade Rolls.” So far she’d only found a few cookbooks.

  If she was going to continue her cooking adventures, she needed more ingredients. Late in the afternoon she cleaned up the kitchen and grabbed her purse. She would head to town, do some shopping and maybe treat herself to dinner at Duke’s. She liked Jake’s younger brother. He was uncomplicated and easy to talk to.

  He didn’t make her feel like she should leave. Or make her want to run far and fast.

  She parked in front of Oregon’s All Things shop. It had been closed for a few days but today it was open. Breezy grabbed her purse and headed toward the front door. As she did, she saw Joe a short distance away. He waved a gloved hand and she waved back, forgetting all about Jake’s silly rules.

  The bell over the door clanged as she entered Oregon’s. The shop was small and cozy. It smelled like freshly baked apple pie, compliments of a candle burning on the counter. There was a row of skirts and tops on one wall. On the adjoining wall were shelves of handmade Christmas ornaments. She noticed one that was hand-painted with a picture of the manger scene. In tiny writing was the author’s signature: Oregon.

  The door at the back of the shop opened and a woman stepped out. She was small with dark hai
r and dark eyes. Her smile, when she saw Breezy, was sweet and welcoming.

  “Hello, I’m sorry it took me so long to get out here. I had to wash paint off my hands.” The woman held out a hand, still slightly damp. Breezy took it in hers. “I’m Oregon Jeffries. And you must be Breezy.”

  “I’m beginning to wonder if there’s a neon sign over my head,” Breezy lamented as she moved from ornaments to clothing, all with the tags stating they were original designs by Oregon.

  Oregon laughed. “There is. It flashes your name and the word newcomer. Don’t worry, the novelty will wear off and then you’ll just be one of the folks that lives in Martin’s Crossing.”

  “I’m looking forward to that,” she said. She looked around, amazed. “You do all of this?”

  Oregon’s cheeks turned pink. “I do. I’ve been sewing my whole life, and painting. It seemed like the best way to keep myself out of trouble.”

  “I’ve never sewn.” She would add that to her list of things a person staying in one place should do. “I took a sculpting class once, years ago.”

  “Maybe you’ll take it up again?”

  Breezy shook her head. “No, I think it was a passing phase. But you, on the other hand, have a gift.”

  “Sewing and art were my escape from reality,” Oregon explained. “My mom moved us around a lot. She had a hobby. Marriage.”

  “I really understand the moving part.”

  Oregon smiled. “Yeah, I think you probably do.”

  Breezy turned back to the Christmas ornaments. She picked one with an angel and a Bible verse and the one with the manger scene. She would add these to her meager collection today. Ornaments she would keep, that she wouldn’t have to leave behind.

  “I’ll take these two.”

  “Perfect. I’ll wrap them for you.” Oregon walked behind the counter with the two ornaments. “Are you going to join us tonight at the church? We’re decorating the park and the church for the annual Christmas bazaar and the community festival.”

  “I’m not sure. I didn’t know if...” What should she say? That she didn’t know if she was included? She wasn’t a member. Didn’t she need to be a member or a real citizen of Martin’s Crossing?