Shine On Oklahoma

by Maggie Shayne

  A cheer went up from nearby, and they jumped apart, startled.

  Dozens of happy faces were peering out through the big front windows. The window opened. Vidalia leaned out and said, “Congratulations, you two. Now, can we please eat before my perfect turkey dries up and blows away?”

  #

  As they sat among their family, passing dishes around the table, Vidalia said, “I’ll go first,” and she winked at Kendra. “Family tradition. Ahem. I am thankful for this family, and how it keeps growing and expanding and bringing joy and love into my life.”

  Ned spoke up next. He was sitting next to Miss Dolly, and he gazed right into her eyes and said, “I’m thankful for the most charming lady I’ve ever met, and that she has family here in Big Falls now, giving her an excuse to stick around.”

  Dolly winked at him. “I didn’t need any excuse, once I set eyes on you, Ned.”

  Rob said, “I’m thankful for my two girls, Kiley and Diana. I don’t think any man’s ever been so blessed.”

  “I have,” Joey said. “I’ve got two fine girls myself to be thankful for.”

  “I’m thankful for my new cousin!” Matilda Louise sang. “I’m gonna teach her everything! How to braid hair, how to paint her toenails, how to ride a pony!”

  “You don’t know how to ride a pony,” Emily told her daughter.

  “First, I’ll learn, then I’ll teach Diana.” She turned to her father very seriously. “So I’m really gonna need a pony for Christmas this year.”

  Everyone laughed.

  Caroline said, “I’m grateful that there’s a wedding to plan!” Then gazing at Luis, “And that I have someone I love to dance with at the reception.”

  Jack cleared his throat, and everyone looked his way. He’d aged, Kendra thought. He was pale, seemed frail sitting in that wheelchair. But his blue eyes were still just as sparkling, and his dimples, just as deep.

  “I’m thankful for a second chance,” he said. “I’m thankful that my girls led me back here. This is a special town. My wife always said so. I’m gonna be a better grandfather than I was a father.” He shrugged. “That’s not saying much, I guess. I was a pretty bad father. But I’m gonna really try to do this grandpa thing up right. And I’m thankful to have two strong, smart daughters who’ll kick me in the nu—” Everyone gasped. “Knuckles,” he went on. “If I mess up.”

  Kendra nodded. For the first time, she believed Jack was serious. She took a breath, and took her turn. “I’m thankful for more than I can even list. For all of you in this room, and how you welcomed me back here when you knew what I’d been. For my sister and my precious niece. For my dad, surviving what should’ve done him in. And for Dax Russell, a guy who believes in me more than I believe in myself.” She looked Dax right in the eye. “You make me want to live up to that belief. And sitting here with all of you, I’m starting to think I can.”

  Dax raised his glass. “Happy Thanksgiving,” he said. And then he slipped her car keys, into her lap under the table and leaned close to whisper, “Engagement present.”

  Everyone held up their glasses, even the children, and chorused, “Happy Thanksgiving!”

  Kendra touched her glass to Dax’s and gazed into his eyes. “The happiest ever,” she said softly.

  “Only so far,” he replied.

  –THE END–

  Look for book 5 in the McIntyre Men series

  Baby By Christmas.

  Continue reading for an excerpt from book 1 of The Oklahoma Brands

  The Brands Who Came for Christmas.

  The Brands Who Came for Christmas

  Prologue

  Maya

  Most people in Big Falls, Oklahoma, thought it must have been a case of immaculate conception when they saw me, Maya Brand—eldest of the notorious Vidalia Brand’s illegitimate brood—with my belly swollen and my ring finger naked.

  Personally, I thought it was more like fate playing a cruel joke. See, all my life, I had struggled to be the one respectable member of my outrageous family. I went to church on Sundays. I volunteered at the nursing home. I wore sensible shoes, for heaven’s sake! I never aspired to notoriety. I just wanted to be normal.

  You know. Normal. I wanted a husband, a home, a family. I wanted to be one of those women who make pot roast for Sunday dinner, and vacuum in pearls while it simmers. I wanted a little log cabin on the hillside behind my family’s farm, with a fenced-in backyard for the kids, and a big front porch. I wanted to sit down in one of the pews on Sunday and not have the three women beside me automatically slide their butts to the other end.

  And it had been starting to happen—before the big disaster blew into town. Bit by bit, I’d felt it happening. The PTA moms and church ladies in town had been slowly, reluctantly, beginning to accept me. To see me as an individual, rather than just another daughter of a bigamist and a barmaid. And it wasn’t that I didn’t love my mother dearly, because I did. I do! I just didn’t want to be like her. I wanted to be like those other women—the ones who were always asked to bake for the church picnic, who did their grocery shopping in heels, and who drove the car pools. The ones who slow-danced with their handsome husbands on anniversaries and holidays, and who took golf or tennis lessons with groups of their friends. They have minivans and housekeepers, manicured lawns and manicured nails, those women.

  What they do not have are mothers who own the local saloon, or sisters who ride motorcycles or pose for fashion magazines in their underwear.

  Still, I was certain my background was something that I could overcome with effort. And, as I said, my efforts had actually been working. Once or twice, one of those other women had smiled back at me in church. The ladies on the pew hadn’t moved so far away, nor quite as quickly, and one of them had even returned my persistent “good morning” one Sunday.

  Things had been going so well! Until that night….

  That night. He ruined everything! Made me into the biggest (literally) and most scandalous member of my entire family! The good people of Big Falls have stopped gossiping about Kara being a jinx—then again, none of her boyfriends have wound up in the hospital from any freak accidents lately, either. They’ve stopped whispering about Edie, who found the success she chased to L.A. when she became a lingerie model for the Vanessa’s Whisper catalogue. Mom just about had kittens over that one. The locals used to speculate on Selene, because of her oddball customs and beliefs. Vegetarianism and Zen and dancing around outdoors when the moon was full, were not big in Big Falls. And Mel used to generate gossip for being too tough for any man, with her motorcycle and her unofficial job as bouncer at the OK Corral. That’s our family’s saloon; the OK Corral. Because we live in Oklahoma. Cute, huh?

  But the point is, no matter how much I wished that my sisters would conform, or that my mother would suddenly cut that wild black hair of hers to a style more fitting for a woman her age, and maybe convert the saloon into a restaurant like that nice Haggerty family a town away—none of their antics did as much damage to my standing in the community as that one night of insanity with that man. That drifter with the eyes that seemed to look right through my clothes. Right through my skin.

  I suppose, if I’m going to tell you about all this, I should probably start with him, and that night.

  See it all started just short of nine months ago….

  * * *

  Caleb

  How was I to know that one night of insanity would change my life forever? I mean, I was respectable, responsible, highly thought of. The Montgomerys of Oklahoma were known far and wide. We had money, and we had power. The name Cain Caleb Montgomery had a long and proud history. My father, Cain Caleb Montgomery II, served two terms as a U.S. senator. His father, Cain Caleb Montgomery I, served five.

  I am, as you have probably guessed by now, Cain Caleb Montgomery III. And already my political career was well underway. I had just stepped down from my second term as mayor of a medium-sized city. On the day all this insanity began, my entire future was being planne
d for me. My father and grandfather, and a half dozen other men—men whose faces you would recognize—sat around a large table plotting my run for the U.S. Senate.

  They discussed when and how I would declare my candidacy nine months from now, just a little before New Year’s Day. They discussed what I was going to stand for and what I was going to stand against. They didn’t discuss these things with me, mind you. They discussed them with each other. I was an onlooker. A bystander. They went on, telling me what I was going to wear, eat, and do on my vacations, as I sat there, listening, nodding, and growing more and more uneasy.

  And then they went too far. There we all were, in my father’s drawing room. Eight three-piece suits—seven of them straining at the middle—seated around a long cherry wood table that gleamed like a mirror. The place reeked of expensive leather, expensive whiskey and cigars of questionable origin. And all of a sudden, one of the men said, “Of course, there will be a Mrs. Montgomery by then.”

  “Of course there will!” my father agreed, smiling ear to ear.

  And I sat there with my jaw hanging.

  “Got anyone in mind, son?” A big hand slammed me on the back, and a wrinkled eye winked from behind gold-framed glasses. “No? Great. Even better this way, in fact. We can start from scratch, then.”

  And suddenly they were all talking at once, growing more and more excited all the time.

  “She should be blond. The latest analysis shows that blondes hold a slight edge over brunettes or redheads in public opinion polls.”

  “Of course, there’s always dye.”

  “Medium height. Not too tall.”

  “Yes, and not too short, or she’ll have to wear heels all the time.”

  “And of course, she has to be attractive.”

  “But not too attractive. We don’t want any backlash.”

  “Educated. Not quite as well as you, though, but that goes without saying.”

  “Well versed. She should have a good voice, nice rich tones. None of those squeaky ones. And no gigglers.”

  “Oh, definitely no gigglers!”

  “Sterling reputation. We can’t have any scandals in the family. That’s probably most important of all.”

  “Absolutely. No scandals.”

  “We can run background checks, of course. Just to be sure. And—”

  “Wait a minute.”

  They all fell silent when I finally spoke. Maybe it was because of the tone of my voice, which sounded odd even to me. I placed both my palms on the table and got slowly to my feet. And for the first time in my entire adult life, I let myself wonder if this was what I really wanted. It had been expected of me, planned for me, even from before I was born. Everything all laid out, private school, prep school, college, law school. And I’d gone along with it because, frankly, it had never occurred to me to do otherwise. But was it what I wanted?

  It shocked me to realize I wasn’t sure anymore. I just…wasn’t sure. Giving my head a shake, I just turned and walked out. They all called after me, shouting my name, asking if I was all right. I kept on going. I felt disoriented—as if, for just one instant there, a corner of my world had peeled back, revealing a truth I hadn’t wanted to see or even consider. The fact that there might be more for me out there. Something different. Another choice.

  Anyway, I went out that night looking to escape my name. My reputation. My identity, because I was suddenly questioning whether it was indeed mine. Everyone who knew me, knew me as Cain Caleb Montgomery III. CC-Three for short. Hell, without the name and the heritage, I didn’t even know who I was.

  I shed the suit. Dressed in a pair of jeans I used to wear when I spent summers on my grandfather’s ranch. God, I hadn’t been out there since my college days, and they barely fit anymore. I borrowed the pickup that belonged to our gardener, José. He looked at me oddly when I asked but didn’t refuse.

  And then I just drove.

  Maybe it was fate that made me have that flat tire in Big Falls, Oklahoma, on the eve of Maya Brand’s twenty-ninth birthday. Hell, it had to be fate…because it changed everything from then on. Although I wasn’t completely aware of those changes until some eight and a half months later.

  But really, you have to hear this story from the beginning.

  It all began nine months ago, on the day I began to question everything in my life….

  Chapter 1

  April Fools’ Day

  Maya had always been of two minds about working at the saloon. Of course, it wasn’t a five-star restaurant, or even a respectable club. It was where the ordinary folk liked to come to unwind. You would never see the church ladies or the PTA moms on the leather bar stools munching pretzels and sipping beer at the OK Corral. But they didn’t have to see Maya waiting tables to know she worked there. It was a small town.

  Everyone in Big Falls knew she was a barmaid.

  And it probably didn’t do her efforts at becoming respectable much good at all. But the thing was, this was the family business. It put food on the table. And it was an honest business, and one her mother had worked hard to make successful. It meant a lot to Vidalia Brand. And respectability or no, family came first with Maya. Always had. That was the way she’d been raised.

  So she helped out at the OK Corral, just as her sisters did. Well, all except for Edie. Edie was off in L.A. chasing her own dreams. And respectability didn’t seem to be too high on her list.

  Anyway, April Fools’ night started out like any other Saturday night at the Corral. Kara helped in the kitchen, where her frequent accidents were heard but not seen. Selene waited tables, so long as no meat dishes were ordered. Mel tended bar and served as unofficial bouncer. And Maya did most of the cooking, and gave line dancing lessons every Tuesday and Saturday.

  In fact, the only thing that truly set this particular Saturday night apart from any other was that it was Maya’s last Saturday as a twenty-eight-year-old woman. On Sunday, she would turn twenty-nine. And twenty-nine was only twelve months away from thirty. And she was still single, still alone. Still an outcast struggling to make herself acceptable. Still living with her mother and working at the Corral. Still…everything she didn’t want to be. Still a virgin.

  So she was depressed and moody, and she’d sneaked a couple of beers tonight, which was totally unlike her. As a result, she was just the slightest bit off the bubble, as her mother would have put it, as she walked out of the kitchen. Wiping her hands on her apron, she strained her eyes to adjust to the dimmer light in the bar. Dark hardwood walls and floor, gleaming mahogany bar, sound system turned down low for the moment. Just enough to create a soothing twang underlying the constant clink of ice and glasses, the thud of frosted mugs on the bar, and the low murmur of working men in conversation. The light fixtures were small wagon wheels suspended over every table, a bigger one way up in the rafters dead center. Dimmer switches were essential, of course. The only time the lights got turned up to high beam was when they closed the doors to clean up. The row of ceiling fans over the bar whirred softly and tousled her hair when she walked underneath them.

  And then she looked up.

  And he was there.

  He’d just come through the batwing doors from the street outside. He stopped just inside them, and he looked around as if it was his first time at the Corral. And as Maya looked him over, she thought he seemed just about as depressed and moody as she was.

  “Now that looks like a cowboy who’s been rode hard and put away wet one too many times,” Vidalia said near her ear.

  Maya started. She hadn’t even heard her mother come up beside her. And though she tried to send her a disapproving glance for her choice of words, she found it tough to take her eyes off the man. “Who is he?” she asked. “I don’t recognize him.”

  Vidalia shrugged. “I don’t either.”

  He wasn’t tall, but he wasn’t short. Not reed thin or overweight or bursting with muscle. Just an average build. He had dark hair under a battered brown cowboy hat that bore no brand name or mark
ings she could detect. His jeans were faded and tight as sin. His denim shirt was unsnapped and hanging open over a black T-shirt with a single pocket. Even his boots were scuffed and dusty. But none of that was what made her so unable to look away. It was something about his face. His eyes, scanning the bar as if he was looking for something, or someone. There was a quiet sorrow about those eyes. A loneliness. A lost look about the man, and it touched off that nurturing instinct of hers from the moment she saw it.

  She walked closer without even knowing she was doing it, and those lonely eyes fell on her. Blue. They were deep blue. So blue she could see that vivid color even in this low lighting. His lips curved up in a fake smile of greeting, and she forced hers to do the same. But the smile didn’t reach his eyes. They still looked as sad as the eyes of a motherless pup, and they latched on to hers as if she was his last hope.

  “Can I help you with something?” she asked him at last.

  He shrugged. “Can I get a beer?” he asked.

  “Well now, this is a saloon.” She took his arm for some reason. Kind of the way you’d take hold of a stranger lost in a storm, to lead him home. “Mister, your shirt’s wet through.”

  “That’s because it’s raining outside.”

  “Yes, but when it’s raining outside, most people stay inside.” She took him to a table near the fireplace. It was in the area where the line dancing lessons would be starting up in a little while, but the man was chilled to the bone. He had to be.

  He took the seat she showed him and looked at her sheepishly. “I had a flat on my pickup. Had to change the tire in the rain.”

  “I’d have let it sit there until it let up.”

  “I hear it hasn’t let up in days.”

  “You have a point. Our weather’s been nothing short of freakish this year.” She signaled Selene, who came right over. “Hot cocoa. Bring a whole pot.”