The Cowboy's Christmas Bride

by Patricia Johns

  “Get ’er done, Andy,” his father would say on his way past, Chet in his wake. Get ’er done. Staring at the dawn wasn’t efficient use of his time, but it was something his mom could understand.

  “Just look at that sky...” She’d stare at the sky for long moments. Mom got it.

  The rooster let out a hoarse crow and Romeo stamped a hoof as Andy ran a hand down the horse’s dun flank. His team consisted of four regular ranch hands who rode along for cattle drives every year, and the two newbies—Harley Webb and Dakota Mason.

  Dakota was getting Barney ready to ride a few yards off. She slid a feedbag over his head and patted his neck affectionately. Andy found it ironic she’d chosen Chet’s horse, the beast that kept nipping at Andy every time he came close. He looked gentle as a lamb with Dakota, though.

  The sunrise made her milky skin flush pink in the growing light, her dark hair pulled into a ponytail, revealing the length of her neck. Her coat was brown leather, tough and formfitting, and he had to force himself to look away. Staring, no matter how flattering the light, was bad form for the boss.

  Andy’s last cattle drive had been when he was sixteen, and he was more than aware of his current limitations—namely, his lack of recent ranching experience and his mangled reputation in Hope. Drovers were a unique lot and gaining their respect wouldn’t be automatic, maybe not even possible given his current position. These were hard-riding men who were used to discomfort and had their own code, and leadership on a cattle drive would look a whole lot different than leadership in a boardroom.

  Harley seemed to be keeping to himself and a couple of the other drovers were talking by the fence. Dakota buckled shut a saddlebag and glanced in his direction, her hat pushed back from her face while she worked. She was pretty in a way he didn’t see very often. She wasn’t Cover Girl pretty. It was something deeper; the way she stared directly at a man and he could see both the softness and sharp intelligence behind those eyes, an alluring combination. He didn’t want a woman to look up to him, bat her eyes and laugh at his jokes. He wanted a woman to match him, and something told him that if she were properly invested, Dakota absolutely could.

  The sun rose steadily higher in the sky, the light turning from rosy to golden. Dakota’s fingers moved with the nimble deftness of experience. Her voice was low as she said something to the horse, her words lost in the few yards between them. Andy had meant to stay away, but he couldn’t hold himself back any longer.

  “You have enough food for the day?” Andy asked, heading in her direction. The cook would meet them at the first camp, but until they arrived they were responsible for carrying their own food. It was a question at least.

  “I’ve done this before.” She put a hand on her hip. “I’d check on the little guy, if I were you.”

  She nodded in Harley’s direction. He and Elliot, the most experienced ranch hand the Granger’s employed, were eyeing each other distrustfully from where they sat in their saddles. That didn’t look promising.

  “What’s up with them?” Andy asked, keeping his tone low enough for privacy.

  Dakota shrugged. “Don’t like each other by the looks of it.”

  He laughed softly. “Yeah, I picked up on that.”

  “You sure about that horse?” she asked, nodding in Romeo’s direction.

  “You don’t think I know what I’m doing, do you?” he asked. She wouldn’t be alone in the opinion—his dad and brother had thought the same.

  “I’m better at this than you are.”

  Her tone held challenge and she was probably right. He was no drover, he was a businessman, and while he was excellent at making a profit and driving up the value of shares, cattle and drovers weren’t part of his expertise. Not anymore, at least.

  “You may very well be,” he said, shooting her a grin. “But I’m a quick study.”

  He didn’t know why he felt the need to compete with her. It shouldn’t matter, but he didn’t want her to see him as weak or needing her help. This might be temporary, but he was still in charge until his brother got back. She’d offered to meet him halfway at civil, but he was aiming at a whole lot more than that. He wanted her respect, but that would have to be earned.

  “We’ll see.”

  Andy shot her a rueful grin and headed back to his horse. He put his boot in the stirrup and grabbed the horn, swinging himself up into his saddle. He looked around at the team he’d be riding with, and he could see that they were solid in experience, if not all entirely friendly. Harley’s New Testament was still tucked into the front pocket of his jacket and he chewed on the inside of his cheek. Behind him, Elliot Sturgeon stared hard at a point just left of Andy, his reins held in a loose grip. He was good at his job and could have led this cattle drive. He wasn’t Andy’s biggest fan, either, which made this prickly.

  “Okay,” Andy said, raising his voice over another hoarse crow from the rooster sitting on the fence rail next to the henhouse. “So I think we’re all pretty clear on our route. We’re heading due west for about a day and a half. We’ve got some newbies this time, so let’s not assume everyone knows everything—”

  “Like you...” a low, gravelly voice said, and Andy glanced in the direction the voice had originated, only to see three drovers eyeing him with the same bland expression. It wasn’t worth the confrontation right now, but he could see they didn’t respect him. That could turn ugly a couple hours past civilization. He needed to address this now and a couple of different ideas flitted through his head before he settled on the words.

  “I’ve never done this route, but I’m here because this is my family’s herd,” he said, keeping his voice even, and he let his gaze move over his team slowly. “You might like me and you might not. I might like you and I might not. Anyone who figures four days with me ain’t worth the money, drop out now and save me the aggravation. Anyone who makes trouble on this trip can expect a pink slip when we get back. No exceptions.”

  No one moved, and a horse snorted. The drovers looked down, except for Harley, who looked straight at Andy, nothing against him yet, apparently. Dakota’s gaze didn’t drop, either, but her expression hadn’t exactly softened. Romeo started to prance in place, and Andy tightened his hold on the reins.

  “Good. I take that to mean you’re all in. You’re here because Chet wanted you here or because I hired you. You’re all good at what you do, and we can make this a smooth ride. Let’s review the route.”

  They’d ride to the first camp at Loggerhead Creek, where the cooks would be waiting. The cooks this year were Andy’s uncle and aunt, and they’d drive a horse trailer over with two pack horses. The next morning Andy and the drovers would set out for the foothills where the cattle were grazing. They’d take the pack horses with them to carry the kit they needed for their next camp. They’d cross the Hell Bent River, which lived up to its name during spring runoff, and they’d round up the cattle and camp there for the second night. Then they’d drive them back. They’d stop once more at Loggerhead Creek, where they’d camp again, drop off the pack horses, and then carry enough food with them to drive the cattle home. Four days. It was a pretty smooth operation. Chet had worked out the kinks in the last three years since his marriage.

  “Any questions?” Andy asked, looking over the group, the morning sun shining at their backs so that he had to squint. No one broke the silence, so Andy gave a curt nod. “Let’s go.”

  He pulled Romeo around. The other drovers kicked their horses into motion and they all set out at a brisk canter toward the western pasture. Andy hung back and then took up the rear. His earlier bravado was starting to wane and he glanced over his shoulder, back at the ranch.

  He remembered the last cattle drive he’d done with his dad and brother. Riding out with the drovers had seemed like an adventure, except that his father had always talked more seriously with Chet. He’d ask Chet’s opinion; suggest
different ways Chet could look at things. Chet got advice and Andy got criticism. He’d treated Chet like the heir and Andy was more like a visitor along for the fun of the drive.

  Keep out of the way, Andy. Your brother has this one.

  Andy, you’re going to get yourself kicked in the head if you keep that up!

  Andy, why don’t you go start supper? We’ll take care of the rest out here...

  It had always been like that. Chet and Dad had a kind of bond Andy couldn’t explain or share. They were alike—serious, quiet and immovable. Andy, on the other hand, had laughed louder and filled those silences his brother and father left hanging out in the stillness. And now, as a grown man, he felt the resurgence of adolescent angst. Andy had been better at ranch work than his father ever knew because, frankly, his father never stopped to notice.

  Elliot dismounted and opened the gate that led into the pasture. The fence stretched out across the rolling field, shrinking and blurring into the distance until it dropped out of sight down a steep grade on one side and climbed the rolling incline on the other. A fence was a constant source of upkeep for a rancher, and Andy could appreciate the sight of a well-maintained one. The gate opened with a groan and when they’d all filed through, Elliot closed it again with the thump of metal against wooden post, fastening the latch.

  The pasture opened up ahead of them, the grass rippling in a cold wind that cut across the plains with nothing to stop it. The snow might be late this year, but it would come, and overhead there was another honking V of geese moving south. Andy kicked Romeo into motion and the drovers fanned out, each taking some space as they rode.

  He’d known on that last cattle drive that none of it would change. Ever. It was on horseback with the drovers that Andy had decided to make his own life and his own future away from the land he’d grown up on. Andy loved the land, too—or he had until he’d realized that it would never be his. But while his brother loved the very soil under his boots, Andy had loved the horizon—that tickle of land meeting sky, so full of possibility. He loved the disappearing line of fence as it dwindled into the distance, and the gentle touch of pink along the horizon as the sun crept slowly upward. He liked clouds that soared like battleships, leaving dark shadows beneath them, and the whistle of wind past his face as he rode at full gallop. The soil was good, but the horizon was better. He might be pushed out of the ranch, but that didn’t push him out of life. Sometimes, it was best not to get attached to something never intended for you anyway.

  Andy found himself watching Dakota from the corner of his eye as she slowly overtook him. She was an experienced rider and her attention appeared to be on the scenery around them. A glowing sunrise and frost melting into dew as far the sunbeams stretched. She blended into the moment seamlessly, a cowgirl cantering across the pasture, and Andy sucked in a chilled breath of morning air. He’d do well to keep his focus off the backside of Dakota Mason—she was another one never meant for the likes of him.

  Watching his team riding, horse strides lengthening into a comfortable gate, riders settling into the motion, he felt that same sense of disconnect he’d felt all those years ago—he was an outsider here. But looking at Dakota ride, her ponytail bouncing on her back, her hips moving with the horse underneath her, he felt a different kind of longing. This Montana land wasn’t his and it never would be, but if he could belong anywhere, he wanted it to be with a woman like Dakota. Dwight had never deserved her, and maybe Andy didn’t, either, but he’d have at least treated her right.

  But that had been a long time ago—too long ago to even matter now that they were all adults. He’d felt a twinge of that when he’d seen Mackenzie again four years ago. She’d reminded him of what he wanted most, too, but that had been more of a nostalgic shiver, a realization that he’d been an idiot way back then. Looking at Dakota—this rooted him to the here and now, and that was probably more dangerous.

  Elliot urged his horse forward and edged their mounts closer together as he caught up. Elliot pushed his hat farther down onto his head, water-blue eyes squinted in the low-angled sunlight. The older drover gave him a curt nod of greeting.

  “So you hired the kid.” It was a statement not a question.

  “Yep.”

  “You know much about him?” Elliot inquired.

  “Not a whole lot. But he seems to know his stuff and he was pretty desperate for a job.” It was the same question anyone around here would ask—what did they know about him? But a body was a body when you needed to round up four hundred cows.

  “He’s been to prison,” Elliot said.

  “What?” Andy looked over at Harley, who rode next to Dakota. “How do you know that?”

  “Just do.” Elliot made a clicking sound with his mouth and the horses eased apart again. “Keep an eye on him, is all.”

  As Elliot moved farther away, Andy continued to eye the kid in question. He couldn’t even grow a full mustache and he had a faintly naive look about him, like dirty jokes would spoil his innocence. Harley appeared to say something to Dakota and she laughed, the sound skipping along the breeze and melting into the rippling grass.

  Either Elliot was lying or the Bible-carrying kid had the best poker face Andy had ever seen. Either way, this drive was about to get a whole lot more interesting.

  * * *

  AFTER A FEW hours of riding, the sun was shining warm and golden on Dakota’s shoulders. The air was warmer now, but the wind was cold when it picked up. Autumn could be like that—bitingly cold in the morning and then unseasonably warm, all within a matter of hours. But they were in December and while it still looked like fall around these parts, the wind promised change. The land was a succession of rolling hills as they headed toward the mountains, and meandering lines of rocky creek beds spider-webbed into the cleavage of the hills. Cold mountain water babbled across stones, giving extra moisture for clusters of trees to dig down their roots and drink.

  They reined in by a copse of fiery-hued trees to have something to eat and let the horses graze. When the wind picked up, the leaves swirled off the branches, circling and spinning as they sailed out over the grassland, leaving the trees just a little barer—just a little closer to naked.

  It felt good to dismount and Dakota stretched her back, letting the tension in her muscles seep away. She loved riding. When she was on her own ranch, she preferred jobs like checking on the cattle or the condition of the fences because it meant she could ride all morning, face to the wind and heart soaring.

  The men dismounted, as well. Dakota had been watching them as they rode. She’d spoken with a few. There was Harley, the innocent-looking kid who sparked her maternal side. She didn’t know what it was about him, but she wanted to ruffle his hair. Then there was Elliot, who was silent but not altogether unfriendly. Carlos and Finn were both in their midtwenties and had flirted a bit, that is until Elliot put his horse between them and drove them off with that annoyed stare of his. Dave was goofy and joked around a lot, his humor bawdy but funny, but he knew his way around a horse.

  And then there was Andy. Andy hadn’t made much contact as they’d ridden. He’d kept back, surveying the land and possibly just keeping to himself. It was hard to tell. She’d expected him to talk to her somewhat, but he hadn’t said a word. She wasn’t disappointed about that; she was wary. Andy wasn’t a man to be trusted, and she resented that he acted so honest and straight-shooting. A man who could hide his character was worse than one who wore it on his sleeve, and it looked like Andy had learned to hide a few things.

  Or he’d reformed. Which was more likely?

  Dakota unbuckled the saddlebag and pulled out the food she’d packed. There were two multigrain bagels filled with thick slabs of cream cheese, some dried fruit and an apple turnover.

  “Are you ready for a rest?” Dakota asked softly, stroking Barney’s neck. “You really are a sweetheart, you know.”

&
nbsp; The horse bent to take a mouthful of grass and she patted his shoulder. He wandered off a few paces, seeming to enjoy his temporary freedom.

  Elliot, Dave, Finn and Carlos were sitting together on some rocks by a dried-up creek laughing at something—probably a joke told by Dave. He seemed to be an unending fount of raunchy humor, mostly centered on the women he’d dated, who seemed a questionable lot. Harley sat alone, a little ways off. He was opening a foil-wrapped sandwich and his gaze flickered up toward her as if he’d felt her curiosity. She gave him a cordial nod, which he returned then turned his attention to his food.

  Andy sauntered in her direction and she was struck anew with those Granger good looks. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and he had the rolling gate of a man who knew how to ride.

  “Hi.” Andy paused a few feet from her then nodded toward a patch of shade a couple yards off. “Care to eat with me?”

  No, she didn’t want to eat with him, but avoiding the man wasn’t going to be possible. She’d taken the job, and part of that job was dealing with the boss, so she silently followed his lead and they settled themselves on their jackets to eat. Dakota unwrapped a bagel, the scent of whole wheat making her stomach rumble.

  “Nice speech earlier,” Dakota said, taking a bite.

  “That’s a rehash of another speech I gave when I bought the dealership. That was a complicated time for worker morale.”

  It was strange, because she’d never really thought of Andy as a successful businessman before—more like an improperly rewarded fiend. But he did have a good sense when it came to getting people to work with him, and a team of drovers was probably the hardest group to win over. Not that he’d succeeded yet, but they’d stayed, which was more than she’d expected.