Boughs of Holly

by Shanna Hatfield

  The Friendly Beasts of Faraday Book 3

  A Sweet Contemporary Holiday Romance

  by

  USA TODAY Bestselling Author

  SHANNA HATFIELD

  Boughs of Holly

  The Friendly Beasts of Faraday Book 3

  Copyright © 2018 by Shanna Hatfield

  All rights reserved. By purchasing this publication through an authorized outlet, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this ebook in a digital format. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, transmitted, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, now known or hereafter invented, without the written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. Please purchase only authorized editions.

  For permission requests, please contact the author, with a subject line of “permission request” at the e-mail address below or through her website.

  Shanna Hatfield

  shanna@shannahatfield.com

  shannahatfield.com

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Cover Design by Rob Foote

  To the free spirits who add their own

  special brand of joy to life.

  Chapter One

  The scent of burned bacon polluted the air while a blue cloud nearly as dense as the fog outside filled the kitchen. The haze and the stench only added to the chaos as the smoke detector emitted an ear-splitting squall every few seconds.

  Seth Stafford grabbed a dishtowel and flapped it in front of the smoke detector as his grandfather opened the back door and stepped into the room.

  “What in thunderation is going on in here?” Sam Stafford asked in a booming voice that age hadn’t softened. He strode over to the sink and shoved the window open then turned back to glare at his grandson.

  Seth waggled the dishtowel a few more times and the screeching stopped. “Sorry, Pops. The hay buyer who’s coming tomorrow called and I didn’t get off the phone fast enough to rescue the bacon.”

  Sam looked into the ancient cast iron pan on the stove at the black-edged pieces of salt-cured pork. “It’s still edible. I’ll fry the eggs if you make toast.”

  The men worked in silence until they sat down at the table and began to eat their breakfast.

  “One of us needs to head into town today,” Sam said. He stabbed a rubbery egg dripping with bacon grease and cut it in half. Yellow yolk pooled on his plate and he mopped at it with a chunk of dry toast. “There’s a big storm coming in and we need to be ready.”

  Seth rolled his eyes. “Pops, you and your storm warnings are nuts. What are you, the local weatherman?”

  “Don’t get smart with me.” Sam narrowed his gaze and studied Seth. “You’re not so old or big I can’t still paddle your backside.”

  Seth knew better than to comment on how his grandfather hadn’t done that since he was eleven, and that was seventeen years ago. “Yes, sir.”

  “Wasn’t I right about the last storm? Who would have thought we’d get a blizzard before Veteran’s Day? I sure did feel bad about it forcing the town council to cancel the Veteran’s Day festivities. I ran into Ed Davis at the hardware store last week. The poor ol’ coot was pretty down in the mouth he wasn’t able to march in the parade in his uniform.”

  Seth grinned and buttered a slice of toast. “Look at the pot calling the kettle black.”

  Sam glowered at him. “I’m not as old as Ed Davis. He’s got to be thirty years older than me if he’s a day! You know he served in World War II.”

  “I do know that, Pops. I greatly admire Mr. Davis and the rest of his generation for all they sacrificed.” Seth stared at his grandfather and used an admonishing tone when he spoke, “But you are lying through your teeth if you think he’s thirty years older than you. After all, you always taught me not to lie. It’s a shame for you to set such a bad example now.”

  Sam choked as he took a slurp of coffee.

  Seth grabbed a dishtowel and handed it to him as his grandfather coughed then drew in a gulp of air. “What makes you think I’m lying? Ed’s got to be pushing a century!”

  “Pops…” Seth raised one eyebrow, casting his grandfather a dubious expression.

  “Okay, fine, Ed’s twenty-two years older than me, but who’s counting?”

  “You, evidently,” Seth smirked as he bit into a piece of overly-crisp bacon then washed it down with hot coffee. “If you want to go to town today, I won’t stop you. But I’ve got other things to keep me occupied, like getting ready for the hay buyer. He’ll be here around eight in the morning.”

  Sam nodded. “That’s good. We should be able to get his truck loaded before the storm hits.”

  Unable to stop himself, Seth rolled his eyes. “And there you go again with the dire weather predictions, Pops. It’s only November, not January. The storm before Veteran’s Day was most likely a fluke.”

  Sam reached down and rubbed his arthritis-plagued knee. “I’m telling you, son, it’s going to snow tomorrow. As sure as you’re sitting there thinking I’m full of hot air and dumb ideas, it is going to snow.”

  Seth’s eyebrow hiked upward again. His grandfather knew him all too well. “Okay, Pops, but I still don’t have time to go to town. Besides, I went last month. It’s your turn. And you know how much I avoid driving on foggy days.” Once a month, they made a trip into Portland to stock up on supplies for the house and the ranch. They paid their monthly bills, and took care of any business that couldn’t be handled in the small town of Faraday.

  Sam switched tactics, leaning back in the chair and rubbing a hand over his heart. “I don’t think I should go, Seth. You know how the city traffic upsets me. My old heart isn’t what it used to be…” The cagey old cowboy let the comment hang between them for the length of several heartbeats. “You better go.”

  “Tell you what,” Seth said, leaning to the side so he could dig a quarter out of the front pocket of his worn blue jeans. “I’ll flip this quarter. Loser has to make the trip to town for supplies. Deal?”

  “That’s fair. Go ahead and toss it. I call heads.”

  “Of course you do.” Seth grinned at his grandfather then flipped the coin upward. He caught it on his palm before it hit the table then flipped it over on the back of his hand. “Sure you want heads?” he asked.

  Sam nodded. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

  Seth lifted his hand and expelled a long sigh while Sam hooted with laughter. “Eat up, son. You’ve got a long day of running around Portland ahead of you.”

  From years of experience, Seth knew arguing with his mule-headed grandfather would do no good. If Sam Stafford decided it would snow tomorrow, it probably would. And if he declared today was the day Seth had to go to town, Seth could bet every penny he had in the bank that he’d make the trip, no matter how much he’d the rather stay at the ranch.

  Seth finished his breakfast, drained his coffee cup, and set the dishes in the dishwasher. While his grandfather washed the skillet and rinsed the coffee pot, Seth wiped off the stove, counters, and table. The two of them had learned a long time ago to clean up after themselves or the messes multiplied quicker than they could keep up with them.

  “I’ll feed the horses then get ready to go. Do you have a list of things you need me to
take care of today?” Seth asked as he pulled on his old chore coat and tugged on a fleece hat that covered his ears. Although he wasn’t concerned about it snowing, the fog enfolded the ranch in bone-chilling dampness, making it feel ten degrees cooler than it was outside.

  “I’ll have it ready for you before you leave,” Sam said, heading down the hall toward the office at the front of the house.

  Seth hurried outside. On his way to the horse pasture, he scratched the ears of the two cow dogs that jumped up from the covered back porch and followed him. The rowdier of the two nipped at his brother’s ear, earning a gentle reprimand from Seth. “Bullet, you play nice with Pistol. You two boys need to behave and keep an eye on Pops while I’m in town today.”

  Bullet barked and waggled his hind end, making Seth grin. He’d gotten the dogs two years ago when they were barely-weaned pups. The mix of Border collie, Australian shepherd, Kelpie, and Catahoula meant they were bred and born for working cattle. Incredibly intelligent, the pups had been easy to train and worked as hard as the cowboys on the ranch.

  Seth kept up a one-sided conversation with the dogs as he made his way out to where the horses waited in the fog-shrouded pasture. He tossed hay over the fence, broke the thin-layer of ice in the water trough, then discussed plans for the day with the two hired hands. He helped feed the cattle, checked on a sick cow in the barn, and returned to the house.

  Although he’d taken a shower last night, Seth knew he smelled like manure and burned bacon, so he headed to his room to clean up. The whole time he showered then dressed, he tried to think of a way to get out of making this trip to town. He knew they were low on supplies, but if things got too desperate, they could always drive into Faraday for necessities like bread and fresh produce.

  A rueful grin lifted the corners of Seth’s mouth. Not that Sam Stafford wasted much time or energy on eating fresh produce. The old man would live on bacon and runny eggs along with steak and potatoes if someone, namely Seth, didn’t insist he eat a few fruits and vegetables on occasion.

  Seth ran a comb through his thick hair, brushed his teeth, then headed to the kitchen as he threaded a belt through the loops on his almost-new jeans.

  “Pops? Did you get the list together?” Seth asked as he returned to the kitchen. His grandfather’s footsteps echoed down the short hallway from the office. Before Seth came to live with his grandfather, when his grandmother was still alive, the office had been her formal dining room. But Sam Stafford was not a formal man and a year after his beloved Ilene’s passing, he tore out the pastel flowered wallpaper, removed the crystal chandelier, and converted the space into a ranch office.

  “Got it right here,” Sam said as he limped into the kitchen, favoring his right knee.

  Seth frowned. “Maybe you better stay inside today. I let Andy and Brian know I’d be gone and asked them to make sure we’re ready to load hay in the morning. Brian’s going to ride the south fence this afternoon and Andy’s supposed to replace those broken posts in the east corral.

  “I’ll keep an eye on them, but this damp, cold weather sure makes a man feel every one of his years.”

  Seth smirked as he slipped on a sherpa-lined denim jacket. “All ninety-three of them, right, Pops?”

  He ducked when his grandpa took a playful swing at him. “That’s enough out of you. It’s seventy-three and well you know it!”

  “I do know it, but it’s fun to mess with you anyway, Pops.” Seth lifted his dark gray cowboy hat from the rack by the back door and settled it on his head. He checked his pockets to make sure he had his phone and wallet, and then took the list and a thick manila envelope from his grandfather. “What’s this?” he asked, staring at the envelope as a sense of foreboding crept over him.

  “The papers the financial advisor needs in regard to the money we made on the load of cattle we sold last week. I told him you’d drop them by today.” Pops offered a smile, one that looked like a cat that had just snuck into a birdcage and discovered an all-you-can eat buffet feast.

  “Pops! You know how much I hate driving in downtown traffic. I don’t know how you did it, but I’m certain you somehow tricked me into doing your bidding today.” Seth scowled as he pushed open the door and moved outside. “You do know we could email this info, don’t you?”

  Sam shrugged his shoulders in feigned innocence. “I won the coin toss fair and square. Have fun in Portland, son. If you think about it, stop at that place we like close to the freeway and bring home barbecue for dinner. I’ve got a hankering for their brisket and ribs.”

  Seth let the screen door slap shut behind him, but not before his grandfather’s jubilant laughter reached his ears.

  “Crazy old goat forces me to do his dirty work,” Seth grumbled as he hurried out to his pickup and started it. While it warmed, he gave the two dogs a few more good scratches. He tossed sticks across the yard for them to chase then hastily climbed in the cab and headed down the driveway.

  The Stafford Ranch was more than two thousand acres that butted up against forest land. In fact, two hundred acres of their property was actually an evergreen-covered mountain. It was a ten-mile drive to Faraday, the closest town, and two of those miles wound along their driveway.

  Seth would be a millionaire if he had a dime for every time his grandfather had mentioned getting the road paved over the years. However, the funds to do that were better spent elsewhere. In spite of the ruts and occasional potholes, they never had any trouble getting into or out of the ranch in the pickups they drove. A car might be a different matter, but no one they knew drove anything smaller than a mid-sized SUV.

  Seth thought part of the reason Pops never paved the road was to deter unwanted salesmen from attempting to get to the house.

  When he reached the highway, he turned right and headed toward Faraday. It would take him more than an hour to reach Portland. He should probably head downtown and visit the financial advisor’s office first since it was the stop he dreaded the most. If he did that, he should have time to run a few more errands before lunch. He could eat at his favorite gourmet burger joint, the one Pops refused to set foot inside of because he thought a two-dollar burger from a fast-food drive-through was more than adequate. His grandpa practically imploded the one time Seth talked him into eating at the burger place. When he saw the prices listed on the menu, he gave Seth a withering glare, turned around and left without even giving the food a try.

  On the occasions when Seth went to Portland alone, he made it a point to eat lunch there. A big, juicy burger, loaded with all his favorite toppings, sea-salt crusted fries with a tangy sauce on the side, and a creamy, thick milkshake made him not dread the trip quite as badly as he had been.

  He turned on the radio and settled back against the leather seat of his pickup. In Faraday, he followed the highway through town, which also served as Main Street. He tooted the horn as he drove past Faraday’s mechanic’s garage and gas station, owned by his best friend, Rhett Riggs.

  Rhett had been the first friendly face Seth encountered when he ended up moving to Faraday as a young boy.

  Seth had always liked being in Faraday with his grandparents, enjoying the excitement of the ranch and the time he spent outdoors, learning about country and cowboy life. Then his grandmother died of an aneurysm when he was in the first grade and his grandpa struggled to move beyond his grief. Sam seemed to brighten when Seth was there, so Seth’s parents tried to take him to the ranch as often as possible.

  Dark memories dragged him back to a similarly foggy day, much like this one. His parents had left him with Pops then taken his sister to a weekend music competition. Maggie had been unbelievably talented at playing the flute. Although she was three years older than Seth, the two siblings had been close. He’d loved listening to her play. The way she brought the music alive made it seem like the notes danced in the air until Seth thought he could reach out and almost, just almost, touch them.

  The fog froze on the freeway, leaving the surface coated in black ice. On
the way home from the competition, a semi slid into his parents’ car and killed them along with Maggie. From that moment on, Pops raised him.

  Those first days and weeks after the accident, Seth didn’t know what he would have done if it hadn’t been for Rhett’s friendship. The kinship of two sad, lost little boys without parents of their own forged a bond between the two of them that was stronger than the bonds most siblings shared. Rhett came from an abusive home with an alcoholic single mother. Eventually, his uncle gained custody and brought him to Faraday to live.

  The boys were inseparable during their school years. But Rhett had left town not long after they graduated from high school, determined to experience big city life. Seth had been content to stay on the ranch. He took online classes and got a degree in small business and another in ranch management while Rhett took a two-year course that made him a certified mechanic.

  Then Rhett’s uncle started to decline and he moved back home, to Faraday. Although the two of them kept in touch during the years Rhett was away, Seth was glad to have his friend move back, even if the reason for it pinched his heart. Rhett’s uncle was as loony as they came, but he was fun and big-hearted. Will Bolton was always doing something crazy, like installing a sink in the middle of his living room or adopting an abandoned circus camel.

  Lolly, the camel, had become Faraday’s lone celebrity and the star of the annual Christmas Eve living nativity presentation. People came from all around to watch it, infusing the local economy with much-needed funds while they were in town.

  When Will passed away, he left everything, including Lolly, to Rhett. For the most part, Rhett didn’t mind, but lately Lolly had spent more time out of her pasture than inside the enclosure.

  In fact, Seth had been at Rhett’s place the other night when Rhett’s new neighbor called, clearly upset the camel had been to visit her multiple times that day. Rhett ignored the messages she left on his answering machine, convinced the camel would scare her away in a day or two.