by Kim Redford
“But—” She thought to refuse him, until she remembered how Celeste had died on the side of the road. She couldn’t go through that again, particularly not when Storm needed her. She pulled the key ring out of her purse and glanced up at him.
“You’re not in this alone.” He clasped her hand, threaded their fingers together, and led them toward the door.
Chapter 9
For Sydney, the drive from Sure-Shot to Wildcat Road seemed to take a million years, even though she’d opened up the V8 engine with her foot smashed against the gas pedal. All her mother’s instincts screamed at her to get to her daughter as quickly as possible. And fortunately, Celeste was no slacker when it came to power under the hood.
When she passed the turnoff for Wildcat Ranch, where Trey and Misty now lived in happiness, followed by Cougar Ranch, where Lauren and her daughter, Hannah, blissfully resided with Kent in his family’s old farmhouse, she breathed a sigh of relief. After her closest neighbors, Steele Trap was next, even if technically not too close, since they were all thousand-plus-acre ranches, but that was the way of it in Wildcat Bluff County—your neighbors were those who lived closest to you, no matter how far away.
She drummed her fingertips on the big steering wheel with its glossy pink center, impatient to reach Storm and Slade before anything untoward happened to them. She was probably overreacting to the situation, letting unfounded fears ratchet up her tension, but Slade wasn’t one to overstate anything, particularly since bull riders were a laid-back lot.
Finally, she saw the black metal cutout that read “Steele Trap Ranch,” with clear blue sky shining through the open letters and a red-suited, white-bearded Santa Claus perched on one corner, slowly waving at passersby with his battery-operated, animated arm. She smiled at the sight and waved back, still feeling amazed they’d managed to get the contraption up there. But where there was a will, there was a way—particularly at Christmastime.
She cast a quick glance upward to check the weather in case it was going to impact her daughter, but the few fluffy white clouds lazing high above the Red River reassured her that nothing was building over the water.
She turned off Wildcat Road, felt her low-slung car bumpy-bump across the cattle guard, and slowed down, even though she wanted to hit the gas pedal and rocket forward. A little farther down the lane, she put on her brakes again and maneuvered around several potholes, noticing in her rearview mirror that Dune rode high and dry in his big dually with probably little concern for a few bumps.
She followed the rough road upward till she came to the sprawling redbrick ranch house with a red metal roof where her mother and grandmother lived together. She liked the cozy appearance of Granny’s house with its brick arches enclosing a shady portico where cedar chairs livened up by bright-yellow cushions were tucked together in conversation groups. For Christmas, they’d outlined the arches with long ropes of red and green lights to match the bright wreaths in every window. They’d also positioned a multi-piece, hand-carved, wooden Nativity scene under the spreading limbs of a green live oak.
She wound her way toward her own home where she’d grown up, roping and riding on the ranch. After her father and grandfather had passed away, her mom had moved in with Granny. Sydney had returned to her family house after she’d lost Emery. For a while, Steele Trap Ranch had been run by women and a little girl.
Once Slade was injured on the rodeo circuit, he’d returned to heal. He might’ve been bruised in body and spirit, but they were thrilled to have him back, as much for his upbeat, fun-loving company as for his much-needed help with the family businesses. The Chuckwagon Café was always dependable income, particularly important when downturns in the economy or cattle futures affected ranch profits. Thanks to Slade, they’d been able to ease off their workload just a bit. She’d hoped he’d have more time for Storm, since she needed a father figure in her life, but now he was busy creating his own new business, and his injury still restricted his movement, although he was improving over time.
As she came abreast of her house, she paused to look for Storm, but the yard was empty except for the tire swing hanging from a rope on a lower limb of the big oak tree in front that in spring would shade much of the grass and the wide front porch. She’d had fun adding a few touches of cheery aqua to the old farmhouse, which was still painted the original white with a high-peaked, gray-shingled roof. A large crimson-and-gold Christmas wreath added a dash of holiday color to the natural wood entry door.
If not for her worry about Storm, she’d have invited Dune up to her porch to sit side by side with her on the aqua cushions of her hanging swing and drink sweet tea from holiday glasses while they made plans.
She checked her rearview mirror. He was staying right up with her as she followed the road toward Slade’s place at the highest point on the bluff that overlooked the Red River.
When her brother had returned home, he’d been too impatient for regular construction, so he’d opted for modular housing. He’d chosen a contemporary structure with lots of glass windows and doors, wood-looking siding, and all the modern conveniences, plunked down on the edge of an old pecan grove. He’d planted muscadine vines nearby and started a small vineyard. Unable to rodeo, he’d turned his considerable energy into baking pies and making wine in addition to everything else. Now he’d developed a well-deserved reputation among hipsters who enjoyed specialized, small-batch food options.
She stopped on the gravel parking area near Slade’s home. Dune pulled up beside her. She cut Celeste’s engine, left her purse on the passenger seat, and stepped outside. She smiled at Slade’s new Christmas decoration. He’d put up a hand-painted wooden cutout of Santa in his sleigh pulled by five prancing wildcats. Of course, like their family Nativity scene, it was crafted by a Wildcat Bluff artisan with an eye to local culture.
Dune stopped beside her, eyeing the decoration. “Bet he got that from one of the Christmas in the Country vendors.”
“No doubt about it.”
“We need something similar for Christmas at the Sure-Shot Drive-In, don’t you think?”
“Do you mean like souvenirs?”
“T-shirts, ball caps, travel mugs.” He pointed at the decoration. “What about local artisans? Are there going to be booths or tents or something?”
“Yes, we’ve planned for vendors, and we’ve gotten some takers. Still, lots of folks were already committed to Christmas in the Country.”
“Maybe they could split their merchandise between the two events.”
“But how would they split their time?”
“Good point.” He reached out and stroked the lead wildcat. “Nice work.”
“Next year we’ll figure out how to do more. For now, I’m just hoping we can get through our events without a major crisis.” She didn’t want to discuss the drive-in right now. She just wanted to get to Storm. But Dune made good sense. She appreciated the way he was really getting involved with everything.
“If not, we’ll deal with whatever comes along. Remember, I’m here to help you.”
“Thanks. I do appreciate it.” She looked toward Slade’s house but didn’t see anybody. “For now, let’s check on Storm.”
“Right. I didn’t mean to get us off track.”
“Good ideas for the future.” When she heard the revving engine of a four-wheeler before the harsh whining as it took off, she felt her heart speed up in alarm. Slade was exactly right. Storm was pushing the limits of the ATV.
“Sounds like she’s riding on the other side of the house,” he said, taking a step in that direction.
“Makes sense. She uses that empty horse pasture over there.” Sydney pointed toward it, then clasped Dune’s hand without even thinking about it. “Let’s go.” She tugged him with her as she hurried toward the pasture.
When they reached the other side of the house, she immediately saw Storm—long, blond hair flying outward—as
she raced across the golden stubble of grass inside the silver-metal horse fence. Eight years old going on eighteen, because she’d instantly aged at the loss of her father. Maybe Storm thought if she went fast enough, drove hard enough, grew up soon enough, she’d outdistance the emotional pain that she’d bottled up as if it didn’t exist in her world. Perhaps she even thought that if she didn’t acknowledge fear, she wouldn’t have to admit to the fear that her father was no longer there and never would be again to catch her if she fell into one of life’s many unforeseen cracks.
Slade stood by the open gate, one hip cocked to relieve the pressure on his injury—what he jokingly called a catch in his get-along. Her adorable brother was not for the faint of heart. He was six-four of solid muscle with a thick crop of ginger hair, sharp hazel eyes, and a contagious laugh. He ran hot and fast, so that even in winter, he didn’t need much in the way of clothes. He wore a gray sweatshirt with the sleeves ripped out, revealing the barbwire tattoo that circled his right bicep and the rope tattoo around the other. Scuffed brown cowboy boots led to soft, faded Wranglers to a scratched rodeo buckle on a natural leather belt.
No doubt about it, with those looks and that attitude, he’d cut a wide swathe through the ladies for years, but not so much since he’d lost his battle with a big bad bull. Sometimes she worried about him being alone, but other times she knew it was the perfect choice for him right now.
As if he’d heard Sydney’s thoughts, Slade glanced over at her and then inclined his head toward Storm rocketing up and down the peaks and valleys of the land, not slowing at all when she went up a slight hill to plunge down again.
Sydney caught her breath in dismay. She’d seen Storm ride this fast before but never with this type of intensity, as if she thought she could bust through some sort of invisible barrier and reach her missing father.
She felt a chill run up her spine and shivered at the sight of her daughter’s reckless ride. Dune squeezed her hand, as if he understood her worry, and she felt immediate comfort. But nothing could stop her concern till she had Storm off that ATV and out of danger.
She dropped Dune’s hand and jogged the rest of the way to her brother. He gave her a slight smile and a big hug.
“See what I mean?” Slade gave a nod of welcome to Dune.
“I thought she was going to help you with Christmas decorations.”
“So did I.” He put a hand on top of the fence. “She drove up here on her four-wheeler, and we drug out those decoration boxes Mom dropped off yesterday. I got caught up in old memories looking at them, and next thing I knew, I heard the ATV start up.”
“Old memories.” Sydney felt another chill run through her. “There wasn’t by any chance a box of Christmas decorations that I packaged up and set aside after Emery—”
“Oh no.” Slade appeared stricken with guilt as he quickly turned from Sydney to look out at Storm. “I didn’t think about it till now, but that last box held the ornaments y’all picked out for your Christmas tree.”
“Those were used for our last family Christmas together.” She felt tears sting her eyes. “Storm and Emery went together—a father-daughter outing—to pick out the perfect tree that year. When they got back, they were laughing and hugging and so pleased with themselves. I’ll never forget that moment, or afterward when we trimmed the tree with those Christmas ornaments.”
“She hasn’t either.” Dune leaned against the fence and pointed at Storm racing up and down the pasture. “It’s not easy to deal with loss, particularly for a kid.”
Slade looked from Sydney to Dune then back again. “You two, uh—”
“Dune volunteered to help me with the calendar and Christmas at the Sure-Shot Drive-In.”
“That’s good,” Slade said, but he sounded skeptical.
“Saw her on the side of Wildcat Road and stopped to help,” Dune explained in an overly casual tone as if suddenly treading on thin ice.
“Yeah,” Sydney agreed. “Celeste just up and stopped on me.”
“Why didn’t you call me?” Slade frowned, eyebrows drawing together.
“No time,” Sydney said. “Dune happened along and—”
“Nothing to it. Battery cable was loose,” Dune interrupted, obviously trying to ease the tension.
“He followed me to Sure-Shot to make sure I didn’t have any more trouble. And one thing led to another.” Sydney smiled at Slade as she realized her big brother was suddenly on high alert and in protective mode.
“Okay,” Slade agreed. “But you know you can always call me if you run into trouble.”
“I know.” She patted his broad shoulder to settle him down like she would a skittish horse.
Slade gave Dune a narrow-eyed stare. “And I’ll be watching you.”
Dune tossed him a big grin and a slow shrug. “I’ll do my best not to get you on my case. Right now I’m just helping out your sister.”
“She can use the help,” Slade agreed. “She’s always biting off more than she can chew.”
“Not so,” Sydney protested. “Anyway, if you two are through bumping chests, I want to focus on my daughter.” She noticed with satisfaction that both cowboys looked properly chastised—or at least a little bit so—at her words.
“If you can get her off that ATV, I’d do it sooner rather than later.” Slade turned to lean against the fence.
Sydney watched in horror as Storm hit another high point and bounced up before she came down and hit the ground hard again.
“She’ll run out of gas at some point,” Dune said. “Was the tank full?”
“Don’t know.” Slade glanced down at Sydney.
“I don’t either,” she agreed. “But it doesn’t matter. I’m going to go flag her down. She’ll stop for me. And now that I know old Christmas memories are upsetting her, I’ll help her make new happy ones.”
“We’ll all help,” Slade agreed.
“I’m in,” Dune added.
“Thanks.” Sydney gave each of them a brief smile, and then she stepped past the open gate. If her daughter was hurting, so was she, and she’d do anything to heal the wound in both their hearts.
She took a step into the pasture and felt her ankle wobble. She glanced down at her retro heels and gave a big sigh. She couldn’t have been dressed more inappropriately, but that wasn’t going to stop her. She plunged ahead, feeling her heels sink into the soft dirt with each step.
She waved her arm to get Storm’s attention, but her daughter either didn’t see her or ignored her. Either case wasn’t good, so she tromped farther across the short dry grass, trying to decide if she should just take off her shoes and go barefoot. Still, she didn’t want to take a chance on dangerous rocks, broken limbs, prickly pear cactus, or anything else that might lurk in the thick grass that could injure her feet.
She stopped at a high point where Storm would have to see her when she made her turn on the far end of the pasture and headed back. She listened to the four-wheeler’s loud drone as she watched Storm’s blond hair blow back from her face, feeling more agitated the longer she had to wait for her daughter to make that last turn at the end of the fence.
Suddenly a gray-and-white rabbit leaped out of hiding and ran straight toward the ATV. Storm made a quick, hard turn to the right to avoid the rabbit and hit an incline at high speed. As she came down on the other side, she lost control and tumbled out right in front of the four-wheeler.
Sydney gasped, feeling her heart leap into her throat as she kicked off her heels and started running toward her daughter. She heard Slade and Dune right behind her. But there was nothing she—any of them—could do as Storm hit dirt and the airborne ATV followed her downward toward the ground.
Sydney jerked her narrow skirt up high to give her room to run faster. As she ran with her heart almost beating out of her chest, she didn’t know how to save her wonderful little girl.
And
so she prayed for a Christmas miracle.
Chapter 10
As Sydney pounded one foot after the other against the hard-packed ground, she knew she was hurting her feet, hitting rocks with her toes, stumbling across broken branches, stepping on cactus, but she barely noticed the pain. Nothing mattered except getting to her daughter.
She heard her ragged breath and felt her racing heart as she crossed the pasture that appeared to stretch out for miles when she knew for a fact it wasn’t actually that far away. She kept her total focus on the ATV that poised over Storm—as if defying gravity—for what felt like a long, terrifying, agonizing moment before the heavy vehicle crashed back to Earth, sending a tsunami of straw-colored dust into the air.
She didn’t hear Storm make a single sound of pain, of fear, of complaint as the dry dirt of winter fell across her daughter like a sorely used, tattered blanket. That lack of sound worried Sydney almost more than anything that had come before it—particularly because she couldn’t see if the four-wheeler had struck Storm, possibly unconscious or even unimaginably worse as she lay so very still on the ground.
Sydney prayed harder as she put on a final burst of speed.
When she reached the ATV, she dropped to her hands and knees, gasping in the dust-laden air as she tried to catch her breath. She heard Dune and Slade come to a stop behind her, but they were of no matter to her right now. She crawled closer to her daughter so she could get a better view, terrified to see and terrified not to see. And then all became clear.
Against all odds, she’d gotten her miracle. Storm’s head—with long, blond hair covering her face—lay just an inch or so from the tail end of the four-wheeler. She hadn’t been hit. Yet her daughter remained too pale, too quiet, too motionless. She appeared to be a rag doll tossed aside, landing with her limbs spread out at odd angles.
“Storm, I’m here. Mommy’ll take care of you now.” She reached forward to pull her daughter into her arms but felt a hand grasp her arm and stop her.
