The Cowboy's Christmas Bride

by Patricia Johns

  Elliot grabbed Harley by the collar and dragged him forward.

  This had gone far enough. Andy crossed the camp in several strides and grabbed Elliot’s finger, bending it backward painfully until he released the younger man.

  “Enough!” Andy roared.

  “For all your sense of honor, Harley—” Elliot spat “—your sister is embarrassed of you. If you care about her at all, you’ll walk away and let her forget that her own brother is an ex-con. You think I’m disgracing her? I’m not the one who humiliated the entire family by cattle rustling! I did her a favor by keeping my mouth shut about you!”

  Cattle rustling? Andy stared at Harley in shock. Was that what had sent the kid to prison?

  “Enough!” Andy repeated, his voice vibrating with repressed anger. “Leave each other alone. You can work this out on your own time—not here!”

  “Speaking of family disgraces...” Elliot sneered. “You might be running this drive, but no one’s forgotten what you’ve done, either, Granger.”

  Elliot jerked his arm out of Andy’s grip and stalked back to the fire. The rest of the drovers sat in awkward silence, turning their attention to their food again. Harley stayed put, turned his back on all of them and stared out at the lengthening shadows across the plains as the sun sank.

  Andy went back to the fire, attempting to keep his expression neutral. He wouldn’t be chased off by the likes of Elliot with a few snide comments. Elliot was hired help, and Andy was there representing the family, whether the blasted family wanted him or not. There were some things he didn’t like to advertise, like when a drover’s snarky remarks hit too close to home.

  Bob looked up and met Andy’s gaze for the first time since they’d returned to camp. The firelight flickered across his features and he cradled a tin mug of coffee between his roughened hands. He didn’t say a word, but Andy could read it all in that weather-beaten face.

  Elliot’s words had hit the mark—no one was going to forget.

  Chapter Eleven

  The next morning Dakota awoke before sunrise. The sky was still dark and when she fumbled with her watch in the cocoon of her sleeping bag, she saw it was only four. She wasn’t going to go back to sleep, though. She normally woke up close to this time at home for chores, and convincing her body to do anything else would be more work than simply getting up.

  The ground was cold and hard, and as she moved around pulling on clothes and running a brush through her hair, a heaviness clung to her. She’d hoped it would’ve disappeared during the night, but it hadn’t.

  She and Andy had been careful all evening—polite nods, few words, a cautious distance when they sat next to each other. They were no longer alone, and she could feel the difference that meant between them. Alone—or relatively so with only Harley for company—they were freer with each other, they’d naturally lean toward each other in the glow of the fire.

  But last night they’d both been rigid, trying not to lean together lest people see them and think there was something going on between them.

  Which wouldn’t be wrong.

  That was the thing—there was something between them. They could pretend otherwise, but it didn’t change the truth. She’d been developing feelings for Andy, and she could see it in his eyes that he felt the same. But the people around them, the pressures, the expectations, all changed things. They weren’t free to feel anything.

  As Dakota came out of her tent, she could still hear the snores of the other drovers. Apparently a hard, cold ground didn’t interrupt their slumber at all and she crept away from the tents, wanting some time to herself in the dimness of predawn.

  Dakota did up her jacket and slipped to the edge of camp. Outside the shelter of the trees the wind was sharp with cold. Snowflakes danced in the air as the edge of the horizon glowed the deepest of mauves. A horse plodded toward her and she recognized Andy immediately. He’d been on the last patrol of the night—she should have remembered. He reined in Romeo and dismounted, all without saying a word.

  “Morning,” she said softly.

  “First one up?” His voice was gravelly and quiet.

  She nodded. She wouldn’t be for long. Soon someone else would awake, make some noise, and the rest would start pulling their things together...but not yet. Right now, in these dusky moments before dawn, they were the only ones.

  “Walk with me,” he said, holding out his hand, and his gesture sent a flood of relief through her. From all their careful distance last night, that outstretched hand closed the gap again. She took his hand and they walked briskly away from camp.

  “We’ll be home by supper,” Andy said. His hand was warm, enveloping hers in comforting strength.

  “It’s not going to be the same,” she said.

  “Never is,” he agreed. “Home changes everything.”

  Normally that would be a good thing, but not this time. Home wasn’t a welcome bastion of warmth and food, it was the finish line—the goodbye. He pulled her in closer and wrapped his arms around her waist, his mouth so close she could feel his breath against her lips. Still, he didn’t close the distance, his mouth hovering.

  “Andy...” she whispered.

  “I’m going to miss this,” he murmured, and then his warm lips came down on hers, soft and tender, then growing more insistent as he pulled her closer still.

  Her heart sped up and she wanted to be closer to him, away from bulky coats and prying eyes. She wanted to feel his heart against hers and rest her cheek against his neck... She wanted kisses that didn’t stop.

  But she pulled back—they did have to stop this. Tempting as he was, why should she torment herself with something that could never be?

  “I know your parents are going to hate me for a long time,” Andy said huskily. “But maybe you could point out that I’m not the devil...you know, if it ever comes up?”

  He reached down and wiped a bit of moisture from her lip with the pad of his thumb. He smiled teasingly, but it didn’t cover the sadness that glistened in those green eyes.

  “I could try,” she said with a low laugh. “I’m not sure what good it would do.”

  “Yeah, I know...” He stopped and pulled her around to face him. “Dakota, what if it didn’t have to end just because the drive did?”

  “How?” she asked, shaking her head. “We can’t just ride off into the sunset, Andy. That’s not real life.”

  “But we could ride off to Billings.” He caught her gaze and dipped his head to keep the eye contact. “I’m serious, Dakota. I know this is nuts, but I’m actually pretty well off. I’ve got a house, a business, friends... Come back with me. We could make a life together—”

  The life, the home, the promises... If anything had illuminated the fallacy of those possibilities, it was Harley’s sister and Elliot. They might avoid a painful goodbye, but for what? The drawn-out pain of a relationship that didn’t have what it took to last in real life, with real families?

  “What about my family?” she asked.

  “We could make some money in Billings—enough to buy some more land—and come back. We could figure it out,” he said. “Together.” And while the offer was tempting, it lacked too many things she needed in her life: the land, her family ranch, the community of Hope that she’d grown up in. It lacked people, the very people who had loved her, raised her, defended her when Dwight got abusive and who were a part of her deepest core. Could she just walk away from her parents? They’d be heartbroken. Brody would be furious and God help Andy if her brother got his hands on him.

  “No.” She pulled out of his arms. It was too hard to think with him this close. “You’re offering what Elliot offered Holly, and that doesn’t work. I have a family, and I can’t just walk away from them. I can’t be happy that way! And the truth is, they aren’t going to just forgive you and or see what I see in you�
��”

  “Which is?” he pressed.

  Tears misted her eyes. “I see the guy who told Dwight to be good to me...the guy who came back to run a cattle drive knowing that everyone would hate him... You’re a good man, Andy. I know that, but the rest of the town isn’t so convinced.”

  Andy held her gaze for a moment then looked away. “I know.”

  “And I’m sorry.” Why did this have to be so hard? They’d known it was impossible from the beginning. That was why they’d done their best not to feel this way—to nip it in the bud. “But what if...”

  Dakota was almost afraid to say it. Running off to Billings couldn’t answer their problems, but what if Andy didn’t have to leave right away? What if they could put this goodbye off somehow and get more time to think.

  “What if what?” he asked softly.

  “What if you stayed?”

  Andy sucked in a deep breath then released a slow sigh. “I don’t belong here, Dakota. You have your family, parents who are still around, a whole community that has your best interest at heart, but I don’t. They hate me here, and that’s not about to change. My own uncle can barely stand to look at me. I came to do my brother a favor, and that’s it. I can’t stay.”

  And she’d known that, too. Nothing had actually changed over the last few days, except for their feelings for each other.

  “Don’t you see?” Anger was replacing the sadness now—something easier to deal with, something she could wield. “We’ve been talking about Harley’s sister this whole time, and deep down I’ve thought she was a little bit dumb. I mean, I’ll defend a woman’s right to choose her own future until I go blue in the face, but deep down I thought she was blind not to see it!”

  “See what?” Andy’s eyes clouded. “You think I’m no better than Elliot?”

  “Yes!” She dashed a tear off of her cheek with the back of her hand. “It’s the same situation, don’t you see? They wanted to be together, but they didn’t think it through. You’re offering a life in Billings, but it’s no more than Elliot offered—”

  “That’s not true,” Andy growled, anger flashing back at her in those green eyes. “I’m not offering to share rent, Dakota. I’m offering me, all of me. I’m offering to get married!”

  Dakota felt like the breath was knocked out of her and she stared at Andy in surprise. He was asking her to marry him? Did that change things? It made her heart leap, and it made her wish for things so hard that it ached inside her very core, but did it truly change anything?

  “You’re offering all the right things, Andy,” she said, her voice choking with tears. “But you’re forgetting something. A wedding isn’t about just you and me—”

  “It should be,” he said.

  She shook her head. “Those pews would be empty, and that would break my heart. I can’t give up my entire family, Andy.”

  Andy nodded, and his eyes misted, too. “I know, gorgeous,” he whispered. “I love you, and I could never ask it of you.”

  The horizon was pink now and the sky brightened ever so slowly, illuminating the forms of lounging cows chewing their cud. If only things could stay as simple as they were out here...

  “You love me?” she asked softly.

  “Would I ask you to marry me if I didn’t?” He reached out to move a hair away from her eyes. “Not that it matters, I guess.”

  Dakota took a step back, out of his reach. If he touched her again, she’d only move back into his strong arms, and no matter how long she put this off, it wouldn’t change anything.

  Behind them, a pot clanked, and Dakota turned to see Lydia standing at the tree line looking at them. They’d been seen, and Lydia was making as much noise as possible to warn them.

  “We have cattle to move,” Dakota said quickly. She met his eyes once more, but she knew better than to take even one step toward him. His eyes held a silent request that she couldn’t answer and so she did the only thing left—turned back toward camp. With every step, her heart ached more, but she wouldn’t make Holly’s mistake. A woman might need love, but she also needed family, and one could never make up for the other.

  * * *

  THAT DAY THE ride was smooth. Everyone was looking forward to getting back, and the cattle perked up, remembering the warmth of home and hay. He and Dakota didn’t talk much. They stayed busy keeping the cattle moving, and truthfully, it looked like she was avoiding him. Maybe that was for the best. He couldn’t change her family’s opinion of him so easily, and he couldn’t take back the land sale that ruined the Masons’ property. He couldn’t give her the whole package—a loving husband who melded well with her own family. He could love her, he could be faithful and devoted, but he had no control over the rest. And she deserved to have the whole package.

  When they finally got back to the ranch, the sun was sinking at their backs. They unsaddled the horses and gave them all a much deserved rubdown. And when Andy had thanked the drovers for their service and promised paychecks for the next morning, everyone went their own way.

  Except Dakota. She stood there in front of the barn, her face glowing in the last of the sunset.

  “I’m going to miss you,” she said.

  “This isn’t goodbye,” he said. “I still have to give you your paycheck tomorrow.”

  “I know.” She pulled the elastic out of her hair and let it fall loose around her shoulders. It changed the look of her—softened her—and all he wanted was to push his fingers into that hair and pull her into his arms, but he wouldn’t. They knew where things stood. But he had other business to take care of—business connected to her, but not entirely about her, either. Dwight had been his friend, and he wasn’t about to just walk away from what he’d done to Dakota. “You said Dwight spends a lot of time in the bar,” Andy said after a moment.

  She nodded. “Unless he’s changed overnight.”

  “The Honky Tonk?” he clarified.

  She nodded again but looked at him dubiously. “Why do you ask?”

  “I told you before,” he said with a shrug. “I have a bone to pick with him.”

  “Andy, let it go.” Her eyes flashed annoyance. “It was a long time ago and I don’t feel like dragging it up again. I’ve moved on. You should, too.”

  “Hey.” Andy caught her eye and held it. “He was my best friend, okay? I’m not dragging you into anything. This is between me and Dwight.”

  She shook her head. “I’m not yours to protect, Andy.”

  “And I’m not yours to stop,” he retorted.

  A couple of beats of silence passed between them and color rose in her cheeks. She nodded a couple of times, swallowed, then said, “Okay. Fine. I’ll leave you to it, then. But don’t do anything stupid and get yourself arrested.”

  Was she worried about him?

  “Scout’s honor.”

  Dakota turned and walked away. She didn’t turn back. She got into her truck and he watched as her tires spun up some gravel and she drove off. He had no idea what she was feeling, or if it was anywhere as aching as what he felt. Soon enough he’d be driving out of Hope for good, too, and he’d have to nurse his torn heart in Billings. Dakota would move on, of course. She’d find a good guy and settle down to have a few kids and run a ranch, and the man who ended up with her would be a lucky son of a gun.

  Finding a woman who made him feel the way Dakota did wouldn’t be easy. In his thirty years he’d never found one to match her.

  Half an hour later Andy pulled his truck into an empty space in front of the Honky Tonk Bar. It was a seedy-looking place, squat and small with blackened windows. No one wanted to be reminded of the time of day or night when drinking their worries away.

  The T in the neon sign flickered. When he opened the door, he was met with stuffy, beer-scented air, the jangly, old-fashioned country music from the juke box and the ju
mble of laughter and voices.

  He scanned the crowd—it was still pretty early, but the bar was obviously doing good business. In a far corner a few cowboys sat around a table, nursing bottles. There was another table close to them filled with women in their mid-forties, laughing and joking. A couple danced on the floor, swaying off-rhythm to the music, oblivious to anyone else around them.

  At the bar sat a solitary figure, shoulders hunched. Andy hadn’t seen Dwight in a few years. He’d heard that he’d gone to seed, but they hadn’t actually crossed paths, so staring at the back of this fellow, Andy wasn’t sure if he was looking at the right man or not. If this was Dwight, he had no idea what he was even going to say to him. He’d gone over a few different options in his head on the way over, but he still had no clue which words would come out of his mouth. He just knew that he couldn’t leave this.

  Dakota might not be his to protect, but that didn’t just turn off his feelings. But this wasn’t one hundred percent about Dakota, either. If it had been a different woman that Dwight had beaten, Andy would still be here—beating on a woman couldn’t be just left alone.

  As if on cue, the man turned and glanced over his shoulder. He was older, more worn, but it was Dwight Peterson, all right. He saw Andy, and didn’t seem to recognize him at first, then froze.

  Andy crossed the bar and dropped onto the stool next to Dwight. His blond hair was tousled and greasy. He clutched a glass of whiskey with a white-knuckled grip and shot Andy a sidelong glance.

  “Look who’s back,” Dwight said.

  “For a few days, at least,” Andy said. “Long time, Dwight.”

  “Yup.” Dwight drained the glass and put it back on the counter with a thunk. “So what do you want?”

  Andy shrugged. “We used to be friends.”

  “Used to be.” Dwight snorted. “Then you got your fancy life in Billings and didn’t have time for the rest of us. So, what, you back slumming it for a few days?”

  He’d gotten an education and then gotten a job. What was he supposed to do, sit around in Hope while his brother ran the ranch?