The Cowboy's Christmas Bride

by Patricia Johns

  “So—” Dakota paused to swallow a bite “—you’re doing well with the dealership, then.”

  “Yeah.” He nodded. “I’ve built it up. When I bought it, it was barely breaking even, but after three years, it’s making a steady profit. That doesn’t come easily.”

  He’d made money, but that didn’t mean he was liked—she knew that well enough. Sometimes the wealthiest men were the most hated because they’d climbed on the backs of the little guy to get where they were. She was curious what sort of boss Andy was when he was away from the town that knew him so well.

  “How many employees stayed?” she asked.

  “Most of them. A few were ticked off at the change of management style, and it didn’t take too long to encourage them to move to something else.” He took a bite of his sandwich and chewed thoughtfully then shot her a smile. “I’m good at it, you know.”

  Was he bragging now? It was hard to tell. Didn’t he realize that he was announcing this to the woman who needed extra jobs to keep the family business afloat? In the distance a flock of birds lifted like a flapping sheet and then came back down in a fluttering billow.

  “Good at what?” she asked curtly.

  “Making money.” He shrugged. So he was bragging. It was in bad taste and she shot him a flat look.

  “What?” He frowned. “Hey, I know you all wanted me to go to Billings and fail miserably. Sorry to disappoint.” He was silent for a moment. “I wanted this ranch. Well, my dad’s part of it, at least.”

  Dakota’s swallowed. “You always made it pretty clear you didn’t want this life.”

  “I had to talk myself out of it,” he replied with a shrug. “Haven’t you ever wanted something you could never have? I wasn’t going to get it, and I didn’t feel like waiting around for the rejection. My brother was the heir and I was the spare.”

  “So if Chet hadn’t been interested—” She wiped some crumbs from her jeans.

  “Yeah, if I’d had a fighting chance at running this place, I’d have done it.” He nodded. “But you’ve got to work with what you’ve got. That’s life.”

  They were both silent for a couple of minutes as they ate. Dakota polished off the bagel and moved on to the dried apricots, sweet and tangy.

  She and Andy had their desire to work the land in common, as well as their status as second-born. She’d always wanted to work her family’s land, too. What would she have done if Brody had shared the same dream? Ever since they were kids, Brody had wanted to join the army. He played soldier. She played cowgirl. Knowing her brother’s ambitions, her only problem was trying to open her father’s eyes to reality. But what if her reality was more like Andy’s and she loved the land that she’d never inherit?

  But even then, she would have loved the land enough to keep it from developers. This community meant something to her, and outsiders didn’t understand the heart of Hope. Maybe this was part of his talent—drawing in his employees so that they liked him against their better instincts.

  “So why a car dealership?” she asked. There had to be plenty of other business opportunities around Billings. It was the largest city in Montana, after all.

  “It seemed like a sound investment.” He gave her a wry smile. “But no one dreams of spending fourteen hours a day on a car lot.”

  “So it was about the money for you?” she asked.

  Andy popped the last bite of sandwich into his mouth and spoke past it. “Money? Uh-uh. I needed a life. So I built one.”

  So he’d settled, and in the process made a small fortune. When there were people following their hearts and just about losing their land, that seemed unfair. He might have built a life for himself, but it had come at a cost other people were forced to pay. Apparently karma had been sleeping on the job.

  “What about you?” he asked. “Ever wanted to see what was out there in the big, wide world?”

  “I want the ranch,” she said. It was all she’d ever wanted. “And I’m not giving up on that.”

  “All right, then,” he said, a small smile on his lips. “Do you think you’ll get it?”

  “You think I won’t?” she shot back. “What do you know about it?”

  He put up his hands. “Just asking.”

  She sighed. Picking fights with the man wasn’t going to make this drive any easier, so she decided to answer. “I think I’ll get it. Eventually.”

  Somehow. She was the one at home, wasn’t she? She was the one working extra jobs, working the land, poring over ledgers in the evening...

  “I hope you do,” he said quietly. “Because if you don’t, it’ll be years wasted and, trust me—there will be resentment. You might think you’ll be all open-minded and forgiving, but it feels different on the other side.”

  Andy turned back to his food and she mulled over his words. She was driven, focused on her dream for the future, but what if things didn’t turn out the way she expected? What then? She couldn’t see herself in any other role than this one—cowgirl, rancher. Would she have the strength to start fresh? That was a scary thought.

  Angry voices cracked the stillness and Dakota’s gaze shot toward the other drovers. Harley and Elliot were on their feet, glaring at each other.

  “Say it again, kid...” Elliot’s voice held a threat.

  “You’re a gutless wimp—” Harley didn’t seem to be taking his opponent’s size into the equation here. Elliot’s expression was one of derision and he cracked his knuckles slowly, one by one, the popping sound carrying more clearly than their words. Harley quivered with raw rage, that baby face suddenly looking a whole lot meaner. The other men moved back, out of self-preservation or an instinct to let the males fight for status, Dakota had no idea, but things were about to get ugly.

  “Getting tense over there,” Andy said, his attention fixed on the men with a directness that belied his conversational tone.

  “Are you going to step in?” It was less of a question, more of suggestion.

  Andy’s expression was guarded and his muscles tensed. He didn’t answer her. This was where Andy was going to prove himself or fall short.

  Harley was smaller than Elliot by quite a bit, thinner, shorter. He was downright suicidal to be taking on a man Elliot’s size, in Dakota’s humble opinion. Elliot was tougher, harder, older. Elliot didn’t even see it coming when Harley threw a punch and caught Elliot in the jaw. The bigger man staggered back, shook it off, then stalked forward, a deadly look in his eye.

  “That’s all you’ve got?” Elliot challenged.

  “Hey!” Andy roared, rising to his feet, and Dakota was momentarily stunned at the sheer size of him. Andy was a big man, six foot one with broad shoulders, and when he fixed that direct stare on someone it was downright intimidating.

  Elliot slammed Harley in the gut, doubling him over, and Andy arrived at the scene in time to grab Harley by the collar and toss him effortlessly to the side. He rolled twice before landing on his backside. Andy stood solidly between Elliot and Harley.

  “That’s enough.” Andy’s voice was low but it carried. Dakota hurried to where Harley sat on the ground, staring at a spot between his knees. He was probably trying not to vomit after that blow to his belly. She put a hand on his arm and he jerked it away then spat. Ironically, Elliot was probably the worse for wear after that short scuffle, but given any more time, Harley would have been in very rough shape.

  “That was dumb,” she muttered. “He’s a whole lot bigger than you, if you hadn’t noticed.”

  Harley didn’t answer.

  Dakota shook her head and stood.

  Andy was staring down Elliot, both men of similar height, but of the two of them, Andy was bulkier.

  “Let it go!” Andy said, meeting Elliot’s furious gaze. “I’m serious. Let it go.”

  “Or what?” Elliot growled. “You’ll fir
e me? You can’t. I work for your brother.”

  “Don’t push me, Elliot.” Andy’s tone was menacing and Dakota glanced at the other men. They were looking away uncomfortably. This was going to affect their pecking order, she was sure. After a couple of beats Elliot muttered an oath and stepped back.

  “What was that about?” Andy demanded, whirling around to face Harley. “You threw the first punch—I saw that much.”

  “Nothing.”

  “Elliot?” Andy demanded, shooting an icy glare toward the other man.

  “Nothing!” he barked.

  Dakota could see that was as far as Andy was going to get with the two men. They obviously knew each other, had a few resentments stewing and weren’t about to open up about it to the likes of Andy. Still, Andy had risen to the occasion in a way she hadn’t expected. Faced with the testy tempers of a couple of drovers, he’d matched them and backed them down. That took guts and a certain amount of confidence that left her grudgingly impressed. Somehow she’d expected the city convert to have lost some of his country edge, but she’d been wrong about that.

  “All right.” Andy raised his voice so everyone could hear. “I’m going to say this once and only once. Anyone who gets himself beaten up on this drive is going to have to ride like that. You break it, it’s gonna hurt like hell on horseback. Now clean up. We’re heading out in five.”

  Carlos, Finn and Dave looked at Andy with new respect, and Dakota watched as Harley and Elliot headed off in opposite directions. That left Dakota standing alone, the remnants of her lunch lying in the grass a couple of yards away. She brushed off her hands and eyed the men around her.

  “Idiots,” Andy muttered as he came past her, his strong arm brushing her shoulder. He’d earned something this morning—something that would last for the remainder of the drive—and she was glad that he had. Every cattle drive needed a clear leader and, for better or for worse, Andy was theirs.

  She gathered up the last of her wrappers and the food she hadn’t eaten, and headed out to where her horse was grazing a few yards off. Barney had completely ignored the human kerfuffle and she envied him that ability. It would be nice to be able to take his place in the open plains, melt into the wind and skim over the waving grassland, leaving her worries about the future far away.

  “Dakota.”

  She turned to find Andy looking at her with a gentler look than she’d seen yet. He had Romeo by the reins and he adjusted his hat on his head with his free hand.

  “Watch yourself, okay?”

  What was he worried about, exactly? She’d grown up with guys just like this; she knew how to deal with them. She’d even dated Dwight, who’d turned out to be twice as bad as these guys when he’d had a few drinks in him. Andy had said he was no lost kitten, and neither was she. She’d worked her father’s land when Andy had been shirking responsibility, and she’d worked shoulder to shoulder with rougher men than these.

  Andy still didn’t look settled, but he gave her a nod and put a boot into the stirrup. He swung himself up into the saddle and surveyed the group with a slow, cool gaze.

  She mounted once more, feeling more secure on her horse’s back, and she kicked him into motion. She could feel Andy’s gaze drilling into the back of her as she passed him. When she looked back over her shoulder, he gave her a nod, flicking the brim of his hat. But his granite expression didn’t change. Apparently he didn’t find anything to joke about in the present circumstances, and that was something she could finally respect.

  This drive would be so much easier if Andy Granger could just live up to expectations and fail. It would also be a lot easier if he stopped being so blasted human.

  Sympathizing with him hadn’t been part of her plan, and it still wasn’t. They’d never been friends, and she didn’t need to be now; she was only here for the paycheck.

  Chapter Four

  That evening when Dakota dismounted, her legs ached from the long ride. She didn’t normally ride for a full day like this unless she was doing a cattle drive. On her own land, she’d ride out to check on cattle in the nearer pastures, even escape for a morning of riding just for the pleasure, but the hard riding—the pushing forward and the not stopping, riding from sunup to sundown—happened once a year and her body had to get accustomed to the trail all over again.

  They’d been riding west all day and for the last hour, the lowering sun had blinded her until it finally slipped behind the mountains in a final explosion of gold and crimson. She stretched her back, the movement feeling good on her cramped muscles. Daylight was gone and, while the sky still glowed orange at their position beside the foothills, dusk had arrived.

  A fire was already roaring in a makeshift pit, some lawn chairs set around it in preparation for tired, cold cowhands. The camp was pitched beside a copse of creeping juniper and spruce trees that provided some shelter from the steady wind. The tang of sap and tree needles mingled with the mouthwatering aroma of corn bread and beefy chili that made her stomach growl, and Dakota watched as the others headed straight to the table laden with food.

  “Hot cocoa?” Lydia asked with a friendly smile. She wore a knitted scarf around her neck and some fingerless gloves.

  Dakota gratefully accepted a mug of frothy cocoa, two large marshmallows floating on top. She took a sip and licked her lips.

  “Delicious,” she said with a smile. “Thanks.”

  Lydia had fried sausages, canned peaches and three tubs of sour cream alongside the chili and corn bread. Within a matter of minutes, everyone was served heaping helpings of the feast.

  When her own family did cattle drives, Dakota would look forward to this time of day when the work was done and they could settle around the crackling fire, talking and laughing. People said more after they’d eaten. There was something about that open sky, the pinprick of stars and the snap of a fire that made the consequences of words feel further away. Her grandfather’s stories were always more interesting on the cattle drive than at any other time. He’d dug deeper out there, told the tales that were more honest and painted people as they really were. If she wanted to learn about her ancestors, the cattle drive was the place to do it.

  But this was different. This was the Granger drive, and most of the people here were hired hands. There would be no family stories told, and it only served to remind her that from here on out, they were going deeper into the wilderness, beyond the reach of roads and of rescue. The next night wouldn’t be this comfortable and they’d be working hard, not just riding, very soon.

  Andy stood to the side with his uncle, Bob, arms crossed over his chest. There was tension between them that she could see in the way they stood, arms crossed, a few feet apart, not looking directly at each other—they were family but Andy wasn’t much more popular with his own kin than he was with the rest of Hope. Andy had made the Grangers look bad, and the Grangers cared about their collective reputation in these parts. They had a name to protect.

  The other men were around the fire, dipping their corn bread into their bowls of chili and bringing it dripping to their mouths. Everyone was hungry. Her gaze moved toward Andy. He looked a lot like his brother out here with those broad shoulders and, despite the tension, his kind eyes. Funny that she’d notice Andy’s eyes when she of all people shouldn’t be fooled by them. Dwight had kind eyes, too, but you put a drop of whiskey into him and he got nasty right quick.

  Dakota stirred the healthy dollop of sour cream into her spicy chili then took a bite. Food tasted better by firelight somehow. She glanced up as Harley sank into a lawn chair next to her, his plate balanced precariously on one hand.

  “Hey,” he said, taking a bite of corn bread.

  She nodded to him and turned back to her own food. This was the time to fill up because after this, they’d only be able to eat what they carried and the fare went downhill quickly. The heat from the fire could re
ach them easily enough, and she enjoyed the way it warmed her shins first.

  “So what’s he like?” Harley asked past a bite of food.

  “Who?” She glanced in Harley’s direction again to find the kid’s gaze directed toward Andy.

  “Mr. Granger,” he said.

  “Andy?” She laughed softly. It was definitely strange to hear Andy referred to as mister, but then he probably was called “Mr.” all the time back in Billings. It was only here in Hope that he’d never stop being plain old Andy. “You afraid he’s going to fire you after that dustup with Elliot?”

  She cast Harley an amused look.

  “Will he?” Harley looked less than amused.

  “I have no idea.” That was the honest answer. Andy had promised anyone who caused trouble a pink slip upon returning, but then, Harley’s job was over once they got back anyway, so for Harley that wouldn’t make much of a difference. “I highly doubt he’ll send you packing at this point. We need the bodies. You’re only here for the drive, I thought.”

  “Yeah.” Harley gulped back another bite of food. “But if there was work, I might offer to stay on.”

  There it was. Harley was hoping to be a little less temporary.

  “What are you doing out here, anyway?” she asked, dipping the heel of her corn bread into the last of the chili in her bowl.

  Harley didn’t answer right away and she thought that maybe he wouldn’t, but after polishing off his last sausage, he turned toward her.

  “You want to know?” he asked.

  “Yeah.”

  Dakota eyed him with new curiosity as he told his side of things—the story of what had brought him to Montana to begin with. He was old-fashioned, she realized, with a streak of wounded honor. There wasn’t a lot of place for that in the modern world, but if it could fit in anywhere, it would be a place like Montana, where a man’s word was still supposed to mean something without a legal contract to back it up. There could be so much drama behind the shuttered faces of these cowboys, so many stories that no one would even guess at. He sounded older than he looked with that wispy mustache and those soulful eyes, and he seemed to notice her expression because he shot her a rueful smile.