Darn Good Cowboy Christmas

by Carolyn Brown

  “I don’t need the money, so it doesn’t matter,” Liz argued.

  “Okay, let’s talk about the cowboy next door. Did you tell him that you don’t have to work, that you have an inheritance big enough to buy his piece of Texas dirt?” Marva changed the subject.

  “I had lunch with him. And yesterday I went to his parent’s house for Sunday dinner and music afterwards. And no, I didn’t tell him anything about money. Why would I? I don’t think it would be right to say, ‘Hey, Raylen, I’m rich.’ But he did damn near beat me in a fiddlin’ contest,” Liz said.

  “Dammit!” Marva Jo exclaimed.

  “Is that not as funny as the minimum wage?” Liz asked.

  “No, it is not! You slow that wagon down, girl. You know very well that you don’t belong with a gadjo.”

  Liz sucked in a lung full of air and got ready for the age old argument. “We are carnies, not gypsies. You married a gadjo. So what’s to say if I fall in love with a gadjo that it…”

  Aunt Tressa butted into the conversation. “Don’t argue with your momma, and learn from her mistakes. She married a gadjo and it did not work. I don’t care if you grow potatoes and marry a dirt farmer, but you will be nice to your momma. She misses you and wants you to come back where you belong. And Haskell might have mentioned that his niece has a nice big bank account, so be sure that gadjo isn’t angling for more than twenty acres of tumbleweeds and chiggers.”

  “You riding with her, are you? And Raylen isn’t that kind of man. If he loved a woman he wouldn’t care if she had a dime or a million dollars,” Liz said.

  “Yes, I am, and you can’t out-argue two old gypsy gals, so give it up.”

  “I’m hanging up and getting my shopping finished. Love you both. Oh, oh! I see the Christmas aisle. Can’t wait to see you next month. I’m putting up the Christmas tree early so you can see it.”

  Chapter 4

  Liz unloaded all her purchases, which included three bags of Christmas ornaments for her tree. She laid them on the kitchen table and admired each and every one of the bright shiny bells and balls. She’d looked at a six-foot tree but couldn’t make up her mind whether to get a tall skinny one or one of those huge fat ones. She left the kitchen and looked at the living room. If she scooted the sofa back, there would be plenty of room for a big, round tree with lots and lots of ornaments and a star on top.

  She put her hand on her cheek and drew her eyes down, envisioning a real cedar tree in the spot. No, as long as she planned to leave a tree up, a real one would be entirely too messy. She went back to the kitchen and was stacking cans of cat and dog food in the pantry when the phone rang. Thinking it was her mother and Tressa again, she ignored it, but when it started again after less than a minute interval she fished it out of her purse.

  “Hello,” she said.

  “Hey, kid. Thought I’d check on Hooter and Blister. I forgot to tell you that their vet papers are in the drawer beside the refrigerator. Hooter will need his shots in February and Blister gets hers in March,” Haskell said.

  “Okay, guess what? I bought ornaments for my Christmas tree today and there’s plenty of room for me to store them, and do you have a fake tree hiding somewhere or did you cut a real one every year, and…”

  “Whoa!” Haskell laughed. “Slow down, Lizelle! You know how Sara liked Christmas, or maybe you didn’t since you were so little. Them days, I always cut a real tree. But the last few years, I just put up a little bought one because the real ones shed so bad. Can’t keep enough water in the pan to keep them happy.”

  “That’s what I figured. I’m going to buy a big one and I’m going to have a house that puts the stars to shame,” she said.

  Haskell laughed. “Then, darlin’, go out to the barn and look in the tack room and the loft. There’s surprises out there for you.”

  “What barn?” Liz asked.

  “The one behind the house.”

  “I thought that was O’Donnell property.”

  Haskell laughed again. “Kind of hard to picture twenty acres when you’ve lived in a trailer your whole life, isn’t it?”

  “I figured it went from fence to fence after I left the highway and then to the back side of the yard,” she said.

  “You’re right until you get to the back side of the yard. Now go on back to the barn and then to the fence back behind that. Then you’ve got twenty acres. The Christmas stuff is in boxes, and they are all marked.”

  Liz squealed. “You mean I’ve got a whole barn to put stuff in? I may go back to Walmart this afternoon.”

  “So you like it there?” Haskell asked.

  “Been here two days and I’m not ready to run yet,” she said. “And I go to work tomorrow morning.”

  “Lizelle, you don’t have to work,” Haskell said.

  “I know, but I want to. It’ll get me acquainted with more folks than the O’Donnells. Did I tell you that I had Sunday dinner with them yesterday and I played my fiddle and Raylen and I had a contest? I beat that cowboy, but his grandma called it a tie,” she said.

  Haskell chuckled again. “They are good people, the O’Donnells. Been fine neighbors all these years. Raise some of the best horses in the whole state. You could be ridin’ horses, exercising them for the O’Donnells instead of working at a café,” he said.

  “But I want to work at the café. I can’t wait. It’s going to be so much fun,” Liz said.

  “How’s Blister and Hooter?” Haskell changed the subject.

  “Spoiled and I’m making them even worse. How are you doing out there, Uncle Haskell? Tell me the truth.”

  “Much better than I thought. Dad and I are getting along and looking forward to the girls being here a couple of months. We’re cleaning up the big barn so we can pull in a trailer at a time and do some serious repainting and repair. He’s excited about all three of us being here together and he’s even considering letting me underpin his trailer before serious winter sets in.”

  “Wow! That’s a miracle.” Liz breathed a very quiet sigh of relief. Uncle Haskell sounded busy and happy so he wouldn’t want his land and house back in the spring, hopefully!

  “I thought so too, but he’s minding the cold more since he’s older and I told him it would make his trailer warmer. Got to go now. I see him headed out to the repair barn. If I don’t get out there soon, he’ll do too much.”

  She barely had time to utter “love you” before Haskell cut the connection. She hurried to the kitchen window and looked out at the barn… her barn. She couldn’t wait to snoop around, so she rushed back to her bedroom, kicked off her shoes, stomped her feet down into cowboy boots, and grabbed her denim jacket.

  “Merry Christmas to me,” she sang as she headed out the back door toward the big metal barn. Not only did she have a house without wheels, she had a barn, which meant that she didn’t have to be careful about what she hauled onto the place because she had tons of storage room. Hell’s bells, she could park the carnie trailer that she’d lived in her entire life inside that big building and have room left over.

  She slid the door back and the smell of hay, feed, and leather all hit her nose at the same time. She’d grown up accustomed to that odor, only it came from a small pen where the riding ponies were kept. They’d had Shetland ponies when she was a little girl, but as they got too old for the carnival, Tressa had replaced them with Gypsy Vanner horses, and Liz had fallen in love with them. The extra tuft of hair on their feet made them look like they were flying when they pranced.

  “I could have some right here. I could breed Gypsy Vanners and have baby colts. There’s plenty of room for a pair.” She wandered through the big building, discovering a riding lawn mower and a small tractor. And a momma cat with a litter of kittens hid in the back corner, but they were all so wild that she couldn’t get near them.

  Located in the northeast corner of the barn, the tack room was about the size of her living room. Shelves lined the walls, and the leather smell overpowered the hay and feed smell when she ope
ned the door. Boxes of every size and shape were shoved in the shelves and were labeled in Haskell’s spidery handwriting.

  She pulled an old ladder-back chair with chipped paint over from the table where Haskell repaired and cleaned saddles, bits, and bridles. She hopped up on it and grabbed the first box she could reach. It wasn’t heavy, but when she moved it the dust flew into her hair, her nose, and eyes. Once the box was on the table she opened it with a knife she found on a bottom shelf.

  The squeal rivaled the one when she found out the barn was hers. Inside the box she found old-fashioned Christmas lights. The kind with big, multicolored bulbs, and they had been wrapped carefully around a cardboard tube. She wouldn’t even have to waste hours and hours untangling them when she got ready to put them up.

  “Bless your heart,” Liz said as she looked up to see dozens of other boxes marked Christmas.

  The next one she removed very gently so the dust didn’t gag or blind her. It held more lights, as did the third, fourth, and fifth ones. The sixth one was filled with ornaments wrapped individually in newspaper. She undid each one, lining them up on the table as she did. The next one had a nativity scene that would look lovely on the mantel, just like she’d imagined.

  “It’s Christmas before Christmas,” she said.

  ***

  Glorious Danny Boy, a solid black quarter horse, pulled at the reins, but Raylen kept him to a steady trot the first time around the pasture. Danny Boy had put the O’Donnell Horse Ranch on the map that year, and when Maddie and Cash won the title again the next year with Major Jack, it became famous. Nowadays, Maddie and Cash raised horses but didn’t race them. Glorious Danny Boy and Major Jack had such sought after bloodlines that she was particular about what mares she’d even allowed to carry one of their colts. And each year, she sold half a dozen of her own prize colts sired by Danny Boy or Jack.

  Raylen finally gave the big black stud enough rein to let him gallop around the pasture.

  “Feel like you are back in the race, do you?” Raylen asked.

  Danny Boy slowed down to a slow walk and went straight for the pasture fence. He neighed and several mares raised their heads.

  “Checkin’ on your harem? I can barely keep up with one woman at a time, old man.” Raylen chuckled.

  He hooked a leg over the saddle horn and let Danny Boy visit with his women for a spell while he thought of Liz. He remembered Wil telling him about the night his wife, Pearl, convinced him that her full name was Minnie Pearl Richland.

  “Nice try, Liz Hanson. You might be a carnie but belly dancin’? Come on, lady, I didn’t just fall off the hay wagon, and you are not going to snooker me like Pearl did Wil,” he said.

  Was Liz’s last name Hanson? Haskell’s last name was Hanson, so it stood to reason that her mother and aunt were Hansons. But if her mother was married, then Liz’s name wouldn’t be Hanson. She hadn’t mentioned a father, not even when she was trying to make him believe that bunch of bullshit about belly dancing.

  “I bet if I’d said I’d be over at six thirty for a belly dancin’ demonstration she would have backtracked, by damn,” he said.

  Danny Boy took a step backwards. His mares were all fine and there was a fence between him and them so he was ready to run some more. Raylen had just made the second round in the pasture when he noticed the barn door over at Haskell’s place was wide open. He reined in and dismounted.

  “My turn,” he told the horse as he looped the reins to the rail fence.

  He jumped the fence and was almost to the barn when he heard a squeal. He picked up the pace and followed the next scream to the tack room. It was most likely fear of a mouse, but it could be that she’d fallen or hurt herself. He slung open the door to find her with half a dozen open boxes surrounding her on the floor as well as on the table.

  “Liz, are you okay?” he asked.

  She jumped and squealed again. “Dammit! Raylen, you scared the hell out of me.”

  “Well, you scared me. I heard you yelp and thought you were hurt,” he said.

  “It was excitement, not hurt,” she said. “I found all these gorgeous old decorations so I can make my house pretty for Christmas. Want to help me?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Tonight?”

  “No, but before Thanksgiving. Momma and Aunt Tressa are coming the week before Thanksgiving and I want it decorated by then.” She held up a gold ornament to glitter in the light from the window.

  “Sure,” he said.

  “What are you doing over here? Have you been riding?”

  “Exercising horses. That’s my afternoon job several days a week. Why? Do I smell like a horse?”

  “Little bit. I’ll trade off help. You help me get my house decorated by the time my family gets here, and after Thanksgiving I’ll help you exercise the horses. I love horses.”

  “You ride?” That was as believable as belly dancing.

  She laid her ornaments to the side. “Our carnival has pony rides for the kids. We used to have Shetlands, but now we have Gypsy Vanners. Ever heard of them? I ride in the winter months every single day. And Poppa has bigger horses out on the property, the ones that we can’t use for the carnival but he can’t bring himself to sell. So, yes, I ride.”

  He threw up his palms. “Sorry I doubted you. And yes, I’ve heard of Gypsy Vanners. Dewar could talk for hours about Vanner horses. He’s been buggin’ Momma to invest in a pair, but she won’t have none of it. She told him if he wanted to play with the fancy horses then to go ahead, but to keep them on his property. And I’ll take you up on that offer. I’ll help decorate the house if you’ll help me exercise the horses,” Raylen said.

  “Good. Dewar will have to come to the carnival and see Aunt Tressa’s four Vanners. They’re spoiled rotten, and she treats them like babies.”

  Liz’s pulse picked up the tempo and her hands began to sweat. If Raylen O’Donnell knew how many times she’d whispered his name in the past eleven years, he’d scoot right back across the fence and never come back. Back when she was fourteen she’d wanted him to kiss her so bad that she dreamed about it. And now the feeling was back with all the ache and pain that went with it.

  Raylen leaned on the edge of the table and pretended interest in the boxes. But what really made his blood race was Liz in those cowboy boots and snug fitting jeans. She’d been dressed like that when they were both teenagers that fall when he’d exercised Major Jack, getting him ready for the big race. He’d wanted to be a jockey but even though he was the shortest O’Donnell brother at five feet ten inches, he was still too big to qualify as a jockey. But what he’d wanted more than that was to show off for the pretty girl who hung on the fence rail and watched him. Her eyes had mesmerized him even then, and he’d wanted so badly to taste those sexy lips.

  “Well, I left my horse out back, tied up to the fence. Saw the barn door open and thought I’d better check on things,” Raylen said.

  Liz moved around the table. “I’ll walk with you. Is it the same horse you rode back when we were kids?”

  He nodded.

  She fell into step beside him. “Uncle Haskell said y’all have two over there that folks stand in line to get a chance at their bloodlines. He told me their names but I forgot.”

  “Glorious Danny Boy. That’d be him right there.” Raylen pointed. “And Major Jack. They both won the Texas Heritage Stakes and made the ranch what it is today. O’Donnell Ranch has a dozen blue blooded mares that Momma and Daddy use to raise colts from those two. She’s got a long list of folks interested in buying a colt from either one of them.”

  Liz reached up and ran her hand down the length of his nose and he nuzzled her hair.

  “He’s a beauty,” she said.

  “You like horses, do you?”

  She nodded. “And cats and dogs and cows.”

  “Tell me the truth. You were raised on a ranch out in west Texas, weren’t you?”

  She looked up into his sexy blue eyes. “I was raised in a carnival. I tell fortunes a
nd do some belly dancin’ to bring in the crowd when Aunt Tressa or Momma is telling fortunes. We winter out near Claude, Texas, from the last of November until the first week March, and Poppa likes animals.”

  He leaned forward and fell into the depths of her dark eyes. She moistened her upper lip with the tip of her tongue and his pulse raced.

  It was a slow-motion experience. The closer his mouth got to hers, the hotter the liquid in the pits of her belly got. When his lips claimed hers in a hard kiss she kissed back with all the passion in her soul.

  Dear Lord, if he’d have kissed me like this when I was fourteen, I’d have never left Uncle Haskell’s place, she thought when he broke the kiss and took a step back.

  “I been wantin’ to do that for eleven years,” he said and walked away whistling.

  She watched him mount up and gallop off like a cowboy in an old Western movie. When there wasn’t even a dot on the horizon left, she reached up and touched her lips. They felt like they’d just sucked on a jalapeno pepper, but they were cool as a snowball.

  Chapter 5

  Liz sat straight up in bed and slapped the alarm clock so hard that it bounced off the far bedroom wall and still kept buzzing. What was she thinking, telling Jasmine that she’d be at the café at six o’clock in the morning? Somewhere in the Good Book, there had to be a verse that said, “Thou shalt never see the pearly gates if thou riseth out of thy bed whilst it is still dark outside.”

  She threw herself back on the pillows, but the alarm clock sounded even louder, pitching a buzzing hissy upside down on the hardwood floor. Finally, she threw off the covers and crossed the room, picked up the indestructible varmint, and pushed the off button. She trudged to the bathroom, flipped on the light, and covered her eyes with the back of her hand.

  It was a cardinal sin to be awake at five o’clock, and a glance toward the mirror proved it. Liz’s black hair looked like a whole nest of rats had had a hell of a party in it while she slept. She grabbed a brush and went to work, sweeping it up into a ponytail and twisting it into a sloppy bun. She slapped on barely enough makeup to be presentable in public and went back to the bedroom. Jasmine said jeans and a T-shirt was fine and that she provided aprons.