The Cowboy's Christmas Bride

by Patricia Johns

  “So when did he lie?” she asked.

  “When I told him that he was a lucky guy because a girl like you—” He shook his head, started again. “You were the kind of girl who walked her own path, wasn’t afraid of anything. You were special. So I told him that I’d totally back off. No hard feelings. I just wanted him to take care of you. Be good to you. You deserved that.”

  Dakota felt tears mist her eyes and she quickly looked away. His words had managed to slip right beneath her defenses. She hadn’t realized there had been any competition going on between Andy and Dwight back then. She’d thought Dwight was the decent one and Andy was the flirt. It had all been so black and white. So simple.

  “He said he would,” Andy went on, his voice low. “But he didn’t keep his word, now, did he? So I have a few things to settle with Dwight on my own. We were buddies. I backed off. He didn’t keep his end of that bargain.”

  Several cows slowed to a stop and Andy pulled his horse away and went after them. She watched him go, her mind whirling. How much had she missed back then with her steel-clad certainty about how things stood? She’d always been opinionated and she wasn’t easy to sway, but in that situation she’d been wrong. Dwight wasn’t the man she believed him to be—he had a mean streak and fast right hook. And she’d never seen it coming.

  The day wore on, hours slowly rolling past, and they pressed the cattle the limit. They could slow down tomorrow and allow for more rests, but today they needed to cover ground so they could get to the camp. They were all hungry, and Dakota was starting to feel a little light-headed. A day of riding and herding was tough with no food in your stomach, and while they were all used to pushing themselves, they also knew their limits. The camp would be a very welcome sight.

  “Penny for your thoughts?”

  She turned to see Harley approaching and she smiled wistfully. “Nothing.”

  The cattle were moving easily enough and, as they rode, the day warmed. Harley pulled off his jacket, and she caught sight of that crudely drawn tattoo on his forearm once more.

  “What is that?” she asked.

  “A cross.”

  “Yeah, I see that,” she said with a short laugh. “Where did you get it?” Harley didn’t look inclined to answer so she added, “Word around here is that you’ve spent some time in prison.”

  Harley cut her a cautious look then sighed. “So much for keeping a low profile. Who told you—Elliot?”

  She nodded. “Sort of. He told Andy. Andy told me.”

  “You two are closer than you like to let on,” Harley said with a wry smile.

  “Me and Elliot?” she asked.

  He laughed and shook his head. “Nice try. You know who I’m talking about. You and the boss. There’s something there.”

  “We have a bit of history,” she said. “But it’s nothing more than that.”

  Or perhaps a little more than that. In fact, there seemed to be parts of their history she hadn’t even known until today. Andy hid his heart well, but deep underneath it all, he cared more than she’d ever known.

  “What kind of history?” he asked.

  “It’s personal.”

  “More personal that my prison time?” he quipped, and when she glanced over at him she caught Harley’s boyish grin. These last four days without shaving didn’t seem to make any difference for him.

  “We ran in the same circles in high school,” she said. “Nothing terribly interesting.”

  Harley let out a shrill whistle and he touched a cow’s flank with a long twig. It picked up its pace. Harley had admitted to having spent time in prison, and she was still balancing that out in her head. She’d half expected him to deny it, to point out that Elliot couldn’t stand him, and a part of her would have been happier with that outcome. Elliot was easier to dislike—at least for her. Couldn’t something go back to being black and white?

  “So what did you do to go to prison?” she asked.

  Harley chewed on one side of cheek then he sighed. “I was a cattle rustler.”

  His words took a moment to sink in and, when they did, she stared at him, aghast. Not only did he look about fourteen years old, but he had applied for work as a drover. If he’d been imprisoned for stealing cattle, he had no business working this kind of job ever again.

  “You shouldn’t be working here, then,” she said shortly.

  “It’s the only work I know,” he said. “What am I supposed to do? I’m not qualified for anything else.”

  “Be a short-order cook,” she said. “I don’t really care. If you’ve been busted for cattle rustling, this kind of job would be a big temptation.”

  Harley’s cheeks colored and he looked away. Was he embarrassed?

  “Look, I was a kid. I got involved with the wrong guys, and I can’t blame a troubled home or anything like that. I thought they were cool because they were tough and dangerous, and I was bored with the Sunday-school humdrum at home. But when my new friends needed a fall guy, guess who went to prison?”

  “And the tattoo?” she asked.

  “My cellmate did it for me. It has—” He looked away, out across the plains. “It has personal significance.”

  She nodded. Fair enough, but she still didn’t think he belonged there. He was all Billy the Kid in appearances, cherubic face and Bible in his pocket. Most of the cattle losses were inside jobs these days, and Dakota took this kind of thing very personally. The Masons had lost about fifty head one year due to a shady ranch hand, and that kind of loss hit a rancher where it hurt. There wasn’t a huge profit margin in this kind of work.

  “I’m not the same guy,” Harley said, his hand moving up toward the New Testament in his pocket. “I’ve learned from my mistakes. Sunday school isn’t so bad, after all.”

  Harley was a likeable kid, but she knew better than to trust based on charisma. She might have missed the subtleties going on between Andy and Dwight, but that didn’t make her blind. If a girl sat back on her haunches and kept her eyes open, she could learn a whole lot.

  “There was this woman in Hope,” Dakota said after a moment. “She had a reputation around town as being pretty loose. She’d slept with every available man, and a few of the unavailable ones, too. Then one day she went to church and the church members were so happy to see that she’d come looking for some answers and some faith. She got involved with all the church activities. She helped out with Sunday school and baked pies for the bake sale... Then one day, they found out that she’d been sleeping with the head elder. The married head elder.”

  Harley winced. “What happened?”

  “Well, the church was rocked. I mean, this man was a community pillar. His wife left him and they got divorced. It was very messy. He and his wife had three sons together, and those boys never forgave him. The woman with the reputation ended up marrying the head elder and they moved away. Don’t know where they are now, or if they even lasted. The ex-wife still attends that church, though. As do the boys.”

  Harley was silent for a moment. “That’s too bad.”

  “It is,” she said. “And the moral of that story is that sometimes people show an interest in religion for their own selfish reasons.”

  “Are you suggesting something?” Harley asked, caution entering his tone.

  Dakota knew why she was angry—she’d really liked Harley. And if he betrayed them, if he was up to no good, after all, it would hurt more than the Granger profit line. Somehow she needed a bit of redemption out of this whole cattle drive—she needed it to be about something more than the feelings she and Andy could never act on.

  “Are you really trying to live a better life?” she asked after a moment.

  “Yes.” His tone was honest and quiet. “I’m here to make a little bit of money the honest way so that I can stay long enough to talk to my sister, and then I’m
going home. Simple as that.”

  “Okay,” she said. “I’ve had men lie to my face before, and they’ve been as sweet-looking as you are. Don’t be one of them.”

  “No, ma’am.” Harley tipped his hat.

  She sincerely wished him the best, but if he came around the Mason ranch looking for work, he’d be stark out of luck.

  * * *

  BOB GRANGER RODE out to meet them when the sun was high. He led a packhorse behind him loaded with supplies, and they watched him approach for two hours before they finally met. He crept over the golden, rolling hills, a tiny figure with a tiny shadow, moving steadily up toward the foothills. Provisions were coming, and Andy was relieved.

  Personally he could have dealt with a full day without food. It wouldn’t have been comfortable or his first choice, but his relief at seeing that packhorse had less to do with his own hunger and more to do with Dakota.

  She’d been getting steadily paler as the morning wore on. She was tough as leather, that woman, and she put in just as much work as he’d ever done. She’d be the last to admit to weakening, but she was hungry, and the old protective instinct kicked in. She was driving the Granger cattle, and she deserved to do that on a full stomach.

  When they finally met up with Bob at noon, they all dismounted and he pulled out the food he’d brought—roast beef sandwiches, chocolate bars for energy, and dried fruit. Andy passed the first sandwich to Dakota and she didn’t wait on niceties, tearing open the waxed paper and taking a big, jaw-cracking bite. Andy couldn’t help the grin that came to his face.

  “Last we ate was what we could scrape from the bottom of our saddlebags last night,” Andy said, tossing the next sandwich to Harley and then taking one himself.

  “Should have crossed with the rest,” Bob said disapprovingly.

  “We would have lost calves,” Andy replied. Was his uncle really questioning a leadership decision in front of the drovers?

  “Might have lost more than calves if I didn’t come out to fetch you,” Bob retorted.

  “I’m fully capable of getting the cattle home,” Andy said. “And coming out to bring supplies is called teamwork, Bob.”

  “Is that what we are?” his uncle asked wryly. “A team?”

  The words were loaded. Andy had relinquished any right to call on family solidarity when he’d sold his land to the highest bidder against the family’s wishes. He didn’t only need to prove himself to the hired help, he needed to prove himself to his own kin. They were all waiting for him to fail—for some sort of karmic retribution to even the score.

  “The river was too swollen to get the calves across,” Andy said. “So we went downstream. We crossed this morning.”

  “Ah.” Bob nodded slowly. “Lose any?”

  “Not one.” He’d made the right call. He knew that beyond the shadow of a doubt. And he hadn’t made the decision alone—Dakota had been a big part of it. Bob would have disagreed with him no matter what he’d chosen.

  “Eat up.” That was as close to an atta-boy as Andy was going to get out of his uncle. Uncle Bob was Andy’s late father’s brother, and he saw things in a very linear way. There was family, there was land and there was cattle. And then there were the idiots who messed things up for the serious ranchers. Andy fell into the latter category.

  They ate the food Bob had brought and, before half an hour had passed, they all remounted and started back toward camp.

  “Elliot had a few things to say about Harley, there,” Bob said, lowering his voice.

  “Harley had a few things to say about Elliot, too,” Andy replied with a grim smile. “Harley’s leaving when the drive is done. It’ll take care of itself.”

  “If Chet had been here, he’d—”

  “Yeah, well, Chet wasn’t,” Andy interrupted. “And I’m here because Chet wanted me here. Let me do my job.”

  Andy was tired of defending himself to this blasted family. They disagreed with him. They were embarrassed of him. He was a mark on their good name. Fine. But this was emotional for them, and there came a point when Andy got good and tired of wading through everyone else’s emotions. If they hated him, so be it. He’d be out of their hair in a few days and they could all settle into some nice, comfortable resentment and stew to their hearts’ content.

  Bob grunted but didn’t say anything further. Riding was easier with a full belly, and Andy found his eyes straying toward Dakota more often than he’d care to have his uncle notice. She rode ahead of Andy, chestnut ponytail bouncing on her back, hat pushed back and one hand resting on her thigh. Her hips pivoted easily with the movement of the big horse beneath her, and when she looked out over the ever-flattening hills, he caught her face in profile.

  Was she ever beautiful.

  He’d always known it, but riding with her on the open countryside somehow made her more vibrant, more alive. The fact that they were now on their way back to the ranch also made this time with her all the more precious. If there was a way to make it last, he’d do pretty much anything, but there were too many things out of his control. If it were just about him and Dakota, maybe a few those barriers would have been surmountable, but it wasn’t. It never was about two people. Everyone had a whole host of others attached to them, people who refused to be discounted. Family didn’t just wish you well and wave goodbye. There were always strings, obligations. And sometimes the mistakes you made couldn’t be atoned for, after all.

  When they arrived at the camp that evening, Lydia had a meal of smoked sausages, coal-baked potatoes and creamed corn. Andy tried not to be obvious about it, but his gaze kept trailing back toward Dakota. She sat on a chunk of wood, her plate balanced on her knees, and he realized that even with greasy fingers and a little dab of ketchup in one corner of her mouth, she was still the most beautiful woman he’d ever met.

  She caught him watching once or twice, and a small smile flickered at her lips. She felt it, too. He knew that she did, but they were one day away from civilization—close enough to Hope that their phones would pick up reception again once they turned them back on.

  Bob and Lydia were eating now that everyone else had been served, and Andy felt a pang of sadness looking at his aunt and uncle. They’d weathered over the years, grayed, plumped, but he still remembered the old days when he’d go apple picking at their orchard, or the year his uncle broke his leg and it was Andy’s job to cut their grass on the riding lawnmower. He’d hated doing it—for free, no less—but he’d felt proud of himself all the same in that boyish emotional conflict that meant a valuable lesson was being learned.

  Bob might not have a whole lot of respect left for him, but Andy hadn’t forgotten where he came from. Not completely.

  The low hum of voices mingled with the creak of tree limbs as the wind moved the towering evergreen boughs above their heads. The trees broke most of the cold wind, but the air was still frigid, making the fire a welcome comfort. Elliot and Harley stood away from the group, out by the edge of the trees, and what must have started as a private conversation now missed that mark by a mile.

  “Everyone knows about your history.” Elliot’s voice carried, and Andy’s attention snapped toward the lanky cowboy.

  “I don’t really care,” Harley said. “I’m not here to make myself look better than I am. I’m here for my sister.”

  “I don’t have her.” Elliot’s tone dripped sarcasm. “Have I carried her in my pocket? You’re here for me. You want to make sure that everyone hates me as much as you do before you’re done.”

  Andy and Dakota exchanged a look. Apparently the two drovers were going to sort out their business right here, right now. It might be just as well if they could manage it civilly, enough. The tension had been thrumming for days.

  “I don’t hate you.” Harley’s voice stayed controlled. “I just don’t think you’re good enough for my sister.”

>   Elliot barked out a laugh. “So why come to me about that? What is this, an arrangement between men? Are we bartering her off? She’s a free woman, and she can do what she likes.”

  “Just to be clear—” Harley’s control was starting to waver “—you got her pregnant, you brought her to Montana to live with you, you intend to keep this arrangement going, but you won’t give her the one thing she wants most right now?”

  “How do you know what she wants most?” Elliot demanded. “You came to our door and she wouldn’t even open it. Take a hint.”

  “Because I know her!” Harley’s voice rose. “You sleep with her for a couple of months and you think that’s knowing someone? There is a family heirloom wedding dress in my mother’s closet. Do you know about that? Did you know that Holly tried that dress on just last year? When she turned eighteen, my father gave her a string of pearls and he told her that he wanted her to wear them before her wedding day so that she’d remember what she was worth. She cried when she put those pearls on, and she wore them every week to church. But when she left home to come to Montana to live with you, she left those pearls behind.”

  Dakota paled slightly at those words and put her plate down on the ground at her feet, turning toward Harley and Elliot, a frown creasing her forehead.

  “Maybe she’s changed her mind about a few things.” Elliot turned away then stomped back. He seemed to have forgotten the rest of them watching. “Ever think of that? Ever think that maybe she thinks for herself now, and maybe she doesn’t want the weight of all those expectations on her?”

  “And maybe you convinced her that she wasn’t worth those pearls anymore,” Harley snapped. “Maybe you convinced her that she wasn’t worth commitment, her great-grandmother’s wedding dress or a man willing to promise his life to her!”

  Elliot’s face paled and his lips quivered with fury. “I will not—” He paused, putting obvious effort into controlling himself “I will never be backed into a shotgun wedding!”

  “I know.” Harley’s face twisted into a cold smile. “And I’m glad of that. I just want her to see it for herself.”