A Ranger for the Holidays (Lone Star Cowboy League)

by Allie Pleiter

  She knew the moment her last plea pulled all the resistance from him. His shoulders sank and he exhaled. She’d stand there and argue with him until he gave in. She would not let him walk out the door and be swallowed by the cold night. As if he knew he could be the last straw, Bug walked into the room and looked up at Finn with pitiful, bulging eyes.

  Gramps appeared in the doorway. “Three to one—you’re outnumbered.” He hobbled over to Finn and put an arm on his shoulder. “Nothin’ good’ll happen if you head out now. Best to see what the morning brings, son. No one will stop you if you need to go then.”

  Finn nodded, caught Amelia’s eyes for a long moment and then turned toward the stairs. She watched him climb the steps, her heart twisting further when Bug followed him.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Amelia startled awake at the sound Bug’s barking and a knock on her front door. She tossed the blanket from her lap, surprised to see the sun coming through the living room windows as she headed for the door.

  “I hear you had quite a night over here,” Lucy said. “Boone Lawton turned himself in for stealing cattle and for hit-and-run.” The sheriff raised an eyebrow that was half official business, half friendly concern. “You want to tell me the rest of the story?”

  Amelia wasn’t even sure she knew what the rest of the story was. “I’m surprised I dozed off. I was sure I’d be up all night praying.”

  Lucy stepped inside when Amelia opened the door farther, then managed a chuckle as she looked up to see Bug run up the stairs to stare at Finn’s closed door. “I still can’t believe it.”

  Amelia stared at the door. “I can’t believe Bug slept up there with Finn most of the night.”

  “So Finn is still here?” Lucy shucked off her jacket. “Boone made it sound like Finn was headed back to Austin.”

  “I think he would have tried walking all the way back, but Gramps and I talked him in to waiting for daylight.” Amelia hesitated before adding, “He told me everything, Lucy. It’s simply awful.” As Amelia started the coffeepot, she told Lucy what Finn had shared about his late family and the life he had in Austin. “He’s been through so much it’s a wonder he’s still standing. It feels like a terrible thing to say, but I can’t help wondering if God sent the amnesia just to give him a chance to breathe and heal.”

  Lucy sat down at the table. “That’s too much for any man to carry alone.”

  Amelia sat down at the table as the coffeepot gurgled to life. “He talks as if being a Ranger dooms everyone who is close to him. Rafe never spoke like that. I knew there were risks, but...”

  “Makes it easy to see why the Rangers kept everything out of the papers. A story like that is hard to swallow, even for me.” Lucy nodded toward the staircase. “I need to talk to him, to see if he wants to press charges against Boone.”

  Amelia followed her friend’s gaze. “Well, that’s one good reason he stayed, I suppose.” She’d stared up the staircase at that closed door for hours last night, praying that God would sort this whole thing out. “Honestly, I don’t know what’s good or bad anymore.” She returned her gaze to Lucy. “I prayed all night for God to send some kind of comfort to Finn because I didn’t know what else to do to help him.”

  “The unsinkable Amelia Klondike not knowing how to help? That’s a first.” Lucy’s words were teasing, but her eyes held a compassion for Amelia’s tumult.

  “I can’t change his past. I can’t help him cope with what he remembers. And he’s right—I can’t change that he’s a Ranger.” Amelia ran her hands through her hair, suddenly realizing she must look a fright after having spent the night fitfully dozing in a recliner. “Look at me—I can’t even sleep this is such a mess.” The Christmas carol clock chimed 7:00 a.m.—“Joy to the World.” “Some joyful Christmas. The League party is at six and all I feel like doing is crawling under a rock to hide.”

  Lucy made her way to the coffeemaker. “Now I know you’re really a mess. If you can’t muster up some holiday spirit, the rest of us are in trouble.” As she poured two cups of the steaming brew, the radio at her belt gave a beep. “Speaking of trouble...” Lucy pressed the button on the device. “What is it, Ed?”

  “Another robbery, boss. The Thompson ranch. They brought a dozen new head of cattle onto the place two days ago and woke up this morning to find four of ’em gone.”

  “The ones Boone took?” Amelia asked.

  “I wish it were that easy,” Lucy said. “We returned those to the Baker place last night. I would have brought your car back from the scene except Finn had the keys.” She pressed the button on the radio again after she set the cups down. “Okay Ed. I’m taking a statement from Finn Brannigan right now, so I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  “There’s more, boss,” Ed said from the radio. “The Derrings woke up to five new head of cattle and a bunch of new farm equipment. And their foster kids got presents, too.”

  Lucy raised an eyebrow. “Timmy Johnson and Maddy Coles got presents?”

  “Some new winter coats and—hang on, let me find my notes here—some books, new backpacks and two new iPods. Looks like our Robin Hood even knew red was Maddy’s favorite color.”

  Lucy shook her head. “Thanks, Ed. See you soon.” She looked at Amelia. “Who’d know all that? Maddy’s best friend was Betsy McKay, but she’s been gone for months. This just gets stranger every day.”

  “Well,” Amelia admitted, “at least now we can be sure our Robin Hood isn’t Boone.” She sighed. “I still can’t believe he stole cattle after everything else that’s been going on. And he lied to Lizzie.” She sighed, breathing in the comforting scent of freshly brewed coffee. “Another broken engagement. Poor Lizzie, she’s heartbroken.”

  Lucy leaned in. “And is she the only one?”

  What was the state of her heart at the moment? “I don’t know. I thought when I got an explanation from Finn that it would settle everything, but it’s settled nothing. It’s made everything worse, I think.” Amelia sipped her coffee, feeling it soothe the aches of her restless night. “Gramps told me to ask him how he felt about me, that it was the most important question, but we never got to that. We got tangled up in the whole mess of what happened to him.”

  “And do you still care about him? Now that you know all of it?”

  Amelia looked at her friend, tears threatening. “I think I care about him more. And that’s worse, because I need to care about him less. I need to shut it off, I need to not care because it won’t work. It can’t work.” She lost the battle to the tears, feeling them slide down her cheeks as her throat tightened up. “Finn is right—no matter how important I can be to him, that just makes me a bigger target for anyone who wants to hurt him. I can’t go through that, and he surely can’t.”

  Lucy’s face hardened a bit, and Amelia recognized that wasn’t a fair thing to say to Lucy. As sheriff, Lucy faced the same risks as a Ranger or anyone in law enforcement—any firefighter or soldier or prosecutor, for that matter—but if she didn’t speak the words, she thought the sorrow would rise up and swallow her whole. “I’m sorry,” she said as she dabbed her eyes on one of the napkins sitting at the table. “That wasn’t fair.”

  “It’s true,” Lucy said with resignation in her voice. “To love someone in our field means to risk a lot.” She reached for Amelia’s hand. “But I know plenty of Rangers who died as old, happily married men. They lived long lives proud of what they did and the people they protected. That’s a chance your parents never got. Seems to me, it’s a risk to love anyone.”

  Amelia sniffed and dabbed her eyes again. “That sounds like something Gramps would say.”

  “He’d be right. He’d also tell you it’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.”

  Amelia managed a laugh. “That wasn’t Gramps, that was Tennyson.” Too many people had quoted the poet to her after her broken engagement.

  “Then they’d both be right.” Lucy squared her shoulders. “Look, I’m not going to tell
you what to do—you have to work that out for yourself. But if he came straight with you and told you everything and you still love him, then maybe it’s worth fighting for.”

  “I didn’t say I loved him.”

  Lucy raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t need to. Don’t ever try cards or crime, Amelia—you don’t have the face to pull it off. Whatever you’re thinking or feeling shows clear as day.” She drained her coffee and looked at the bright sunlight now shining in the kitchen window. “And the day is getting away from me already. I need you to go wake Finn so I can get this over with.”

  “Sure.” Amelia didn’t feel ready as she climbed the stairs to knock on Finn’s door, but really, would she ever feel ready to face all this tumult?

  “Finn?” Bug, who had followed her up the stairs, put his paw on the door as if to knock himself. “You need to wake up and talk to Sheriff Lucy about last night.”

  When no reply came, she knocked again, jealous of the obvious deep sleep he’d gotten when she felt wrung out. “Finn?”

  When no answer came again, she pushed the door open. An empty room greeted her, with a made bed, his things gone and a sheet of paper laid carefully on the pillow.

  Finn was gone.

  * * *

  It was cold for Texas in December. Finn was glad he’d brought the jacket from his apartment, muddy and bloody as it had gotten during his scuffle with Boone and the livestock trailer. He looked down at the bloodstain on his sleeve and wondered if he looked so bedraggled that someone would turn him over to the sheriff before giving him a ride. Chilly as it was, the slow pour of sunshine into the sky and the space of the open road before him felt good. Maybe the walk would clear his head. After all, it wasn’t that far to Maggie’s Coffee Shop. A big cup of coffee, a call to a cab and Finn could put Little Horn behind him.

  Trouble was, the pink of the early-morning sky reminded Finn of Amelia’s cheeks as she smiled over her cupcakes that night at the food-truck court. And the bluer the sky turned, the more it looked like her eyes. He wanted to think he was walking away from Amelia, but instead she was turning up everywhere, all around him.

  I’m too broken to love her. The thought sent a stronger chill down his back than any dawn breeze swirling dust down the road. Amelia deserved someone who matched her zest for life, someone who would treat her like the extraordinary treasure she was. It burned in his chest that he could see exactly what she needed—and see just as clearly that he was not the man to give it to her.

  I love her anyway. It ought to have been the kind of sentiment shouted in happiness, but for Finn it was uttered in defeat. All the sensibility in the world, all the reasons why he wouldn’t bring her into the disaster that had become his life, didn’t change what he felt for her. In fact, it was the care he felt for her that sent his feet down this road and away from her. To love her from outside of her life would be the kindest thing he could do for Amelia. I’m letting her go, Lord, to someone she deserves.

  It surprised Finn how easily the prayer came. He felt a tiny shred less alone as he walked down the road, watching the sun push the darkness out of the sky. Luther was right—it was easier to see things in the daylight. And wasn’t it Luther who’d said if you still need to go...

  Forgive me for not saying goodbye to her, he prayed. I took the coward’s way out. But if You really do know everything, You know how Amelia is. I’d never stand a chance against those eyes.

  Then, in a surprising surge of resignation, Finn added, Thanks for the time I had with her. Thanks for sending her to me. I’ll bear what I have now and try not to complain. Thinking that sounded a bit high-and-mighty for someone who hadn’t prayed since Sunday school, Finn opted for honesty. This was God, after all; it wasn’t as if a man could pull anything over on the Almighty. But it hurts. Bad.

  Make friends with the pain. Invite it in—it’s coming in anyway. It took Finn a half mile of walking to figure out where that voice in his head came from. Lieutenant Keeland, his field superior on the force, had said it to him the day before Belinda and Annie’s funeral. Keeland had known his share of loss in life—his wife had left him thanks to the demands of the force—so he spoke from experience. Finn could pull Keeland’s face up clearly in his memory now. He could also pull up the day of Keeland’s own funeral, just two months after his retirement this past April. Stan Keeland died alone. Rafe had been right to recognize what the Ranger life did to a family. If Finn had been smart enough to see that, Belinda might still be alive today.

  But then Annie would never have come to be. Annie was tiny and bubbly and wonderful. The light of Finn’s life. He’d gone overboard and bought so many Christmas presents for the little girl, and she wasn’t even old enough to hold a doll. He’d thrown everything away—all the presents for Belinda and Annie—unable to have them near and unwilling to return anything.

  Keep walking, Finn told himself. Every step you take away from Amelia gives her a better shot at happiness. She’s better off without you—even she’ll come to admit that soon enough.

  Finn was almost grateful for the numbness chilling his bones as he pushed through the doors at Maggie’s Coffee Shop in town. They’d just opened, and the place was relatively empty—the ranchers were still finishing up their chores. An hour from now, the place would be packed.

  An hour from now, he’d be on his way to Austin.

  “What’ll it be?” the friendly waitress asked.

  “Coffee, to go. Black.”

  “No danish to go with that, cowboy?” She had a sweet smile. He was glad she didn’t know his name nor ask it. It was best for everyone if Finn slipped out of town unnoticed.

  “Nope. Just the coffee.”

  The waitress nodded toward Finn’s bag. “Headed home for the holidays?”

  “Yeah, you could say that.” He had no “home” in that sense, only a space he occupied. A home looked like Amelia’s house, not like his.

  “Well, then, Merry Christmas to you. Coffee’s on the house.”

  Finn dug into his pockets, not wanting to be anyone’s charity. “No, really, I’ll pay.” He’d even tip big, just to put a sparkle in her holiday. Someone ought to be happy this time of year, even if it couldn’t be him. It won’t be Amelia, either, his conscience reminded him. That couldn’t be helped, and by next Christmas she’d thank him, another bad relationship choice put behind her like Rafe.

  “You’re up early.”

  Finn turned to see Carson Thorn.

  “Brannigan, is that it?” The man held out a friendly hand. “Carson Thorn. I don’t expect you to remember my name, given your condition and all.”

  My condition. Thorn’s words were meant to put him at ease, but they sunk into Finn’s gut and weighted him down. “No, I remember. I’m better now, thanks.” Now, there was an overstatement. “Well enough to head home.” The claim felt false and hollow.

  “I’m sure your kin will be happy to have you back after everything. Luther tells me you’ve been great company at the house, and Lucy tells me even that little dog took a shine to you.”

  Poor guy, he couldn’t know the weight of what he was saying. “The Klondikes have been more than kind to me, that’s for sure.”

  “Well, you know you’re always welcome back for a visit. We haven’t had a Ranger in town since Rafe—not that we’ve needed any more excitement lately. Little Horn’s had a tough, crazy season. I’ll be glad to put it behind us for a while at the League Christmas party tonight. It’s a shame you won’t be joining us.”

  The waitress set the foam cup of coffee down in front of Finn. “Christmas isn’t really my thing anyhow.”

  “What? You mean Amelia’s full-out Christmas cheer isn’t infectious? That house always looks like the holiday section of a department store to me. Ruby told me she has a clock that...”

  “...that chimes Christmas carols, yeah, she does.” Suddenly Finn felt surrounded by details that kept pointing back to Amelia, as if all of Little Horn were latching on to him, resisting letting him leave
. “I gotta go. My cab will be here any minute.”

  “Cab? Where you headed?”

  “Austin.”

  “No kidding? Cancel that cab. I’m on my way into Austin, as well. I’ll be happy to drive you. I need a little company this early in the morning anyhow.”

  “No, really, I...”

  “Nonsense. That’d cost you a fortune anyway. And the bus is usually overrun with college kids, so you definitely don’t want that.” Carson put his check on the counter with a ten-dollar bill and pulled out his keys. “Ride with me. I never did hear your whole dramatic story—you can tell me on the way.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Finn tried steady his breathing and read Carson’s face as he drove. He couldn’t tell if the man’s expression was shock, sympathy or suspicion. Maybe all three. “I hadn’t really planned to unload all of that on you.” Somehow the entire story leading up to his current retreat back home—and that was how he’d begun to think of it; a retreat—poured out of him when Carson had asked the reason for his Austin trip. Maybe it was the sleepless night that rendered Finn powerless to hold it in, and the whole thing now hung between them. The truck cab felt thick and close, as if the darkness of his story won out over the now-risen sun. “You probably wish I really had gotten into that cab, huh?” He tried to laugh, but it came out like a low whimper. Telling the whole disaster to a mere acquaintance like Carson Thorn made Finn feel as if someone had pried all his armor loose.

  Carson ran a hand across his chin just before he took the Austin exit. “I had no idea. I knew you’d lost your memory, but I didn’t realize all that led up to it. And Boone? Wow. I thought my life had done a good job of tangling into knots this fall, but yours takes the prize. It’s a blessing Amelia found you when she did.”

  “Yeah.” Finn tried to keep his voice neutral. “Amelia.”

  Carson shot him a look. “Want to explain that?”