A Cowboy's Christmas Eve

by R. C. Ryan

  She gave him a grateful smile. “All right. You’d better phone first, though. Like Uncle Leonard said, I could get slammed with more emergencies, and I can’t leave until my replacement arrives.”

  Burke nodded. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll call and, no matter how late it is, someone will be here to drive you to the ranch. When Miss Gracie issues an invitation, it’s like a royal command.”

  “Please give Miss Grace my apologies for this hitch in her plans.” With a grin, Anita sprinted back to the door of the clinic.

  As she stepped inside, she had to shake snow from her dark hair.

  Squaring her shoulders, she headed toward the examining room. Even Christmas, she thought, couldn’t stem the flow of emergencies. When she completed her medical studies, hadn’t she known this would be her life? Not that she regretted it. Not a bit of it. Nor did she regret her move from a bustling city hospital to this sleepy little small-town clinic. Here, finally, she was doing what she’d always dreamed of. Seeing to every sort of medical emergency possible, from setting broken bones to removing tonsils. From dealing with preschool illnesses to arranging end-of-life care. As her uncle had promised, this place offered her the chance to follow her patients from childhood into old age. These strangers were no longer patients but were slowly becoming her neighbors and friends. Her family. She couldn’t think of a more rewarding gift than the chance to live out her life in this sleepy little town of Glacier Ridge, with its fascinating assortment of characters, and this homey little clinic that had taken over her life.

  If she felt a twinge of regret at missing her chance to spend more time with a handsome cowboy, she reluctantly pushed it aside. For now, she would give all her attention to Ben Whitfield and get him home in time for Christmas with his family.

  Chapter Two

  Colin led Buddy through the drifts that had begun piling up against the north side of the barn. Once inside, he unsaddled his horse and toweled him dry before turning him into the warm shelter of his stall and filling the troughs with feed and water.

  As he crossed the snow-covered yard, the warm glow of lights spilled from every window of the big house. It brought a smile to his lips. There was no denying how much he loved this ranch and his family. From the time he was just a boy, he’d known this was the only place he ever wanted to be. Riding the range with his father and older brother, herding cattle, doing the million and one tedious chores that went with ranching. Like his father before him, Colin was a rancher to his core. He wouldn’t trade places with the richest man in the world. In fact, he knew, without a doubt, that that particular title was already his. He was rich in family. Rich in contentment. Rich in all the ways that really mattered.

  He stepped into the mudroom, shaking snow from his hat and parka before hanging them on pegs by the door. He sat on a bench, gratefully kicking off his frozen boots before crossing to the big sink to roll his sleeves and wash to his elbows. The hot water felt heavenly after the frigid cold of the trail.

  Hearing a chorus of voices in the great room, he headed up the stairs to shower before joining his family. Of course, he admitted, his family took a backseat at the moment to the one he most wanted to see. But not until he did his best to make a good impression.

  After stripping, he shaved away the growth of beard from the trail before stepping under the warm spray to soak up more heat. With a sigh, he toweled himself, grateful to be home. Though he loved the solitude of the hills, he had to admit there was comfort in being here. The tantalizing fragrance of Yancy’s prime rib along with roast goose and the faint perfume of cinnamon from Yancy’s snickerdoodles, the holiday cookies Yancy baked every Christmas, had his mouth watering. Judging by the laughter coming from the great room, the family and their guests were in full festive mode.

  Colin buttoned his shirt and tucked it into the waistband of clean denims. Pulling on his best Sunday boots, he ran a brush through his shaggy hair and hurried down the stairs.

  He stopped by the kitchen to snatch up a cold longneck before heading toward the great room.

  In the doorway, he paused when he recognized old Dr. Cross telling a story to the family.

  “…and I said to her, Martha, when I asked for a specimen, I didn’t mean a sample of your Bundt cake.”

  The roar of laughter that followed had Colin grinning from ear to ear. Only Doc Cross, who was everyone’s friend, could spill secrets about a neighbor and never be offensive.

  “Oh, Colin.” Grace was out of her chair and hurrying across the room to wrap him in a quick embrace. “I was afraid with this blizzard you wouldn’t make it.”

  “Buddy and I have been through enough storms that you don’t ever have to worry, Ma.” He turned to the others, his gaze moving quickly over all of them, seeking one special face. When he didn’t see Anita, he schooled his features, hoping his disappointment didn’t show. “Though I have to admit, this one was a challenge. I thought for a few minutes I might have to dismount and lead poor Buddy, who was up to his haunches in snowdrifts.”

  “We have a problem.” Grace drew him aside to say in a soft voice, “I don’t want to send Burke out in this weather.”

  “I agree. What do you need? I’m happy to fetch it.”

  “It’s Doc’s niece.”

  At the very mention, Colin struggled to keep his emotions banked. Not an easy task when the very mention of her had his heart doing crazy somersaults.

  Grace blushed like a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar. “I may have forgotten to mention that I invited both Leonard and his niece for Christmas Eve supper.”

  He fought to hold back his smile but lost the battle. It even showed in his quiet tone of voice. “I believe you mentioned it.”

  She looked away, avoiding his eyes. “The young doctor they’d hired to fill in for Christmas Eve never arrived. An emergency walked into the clinic just as they were preparing to leave, so Doc came alone. Burke said he’d be happy to drive back to town to pick up Anita, but he’s been working with your father since dawn. It doesn’t seem fair to send him out again.”

  Colin hoped his disappointment didn’t show. “Anita Cross is a grown woman. I’m sure she’ll be fine in town.”

  “Yes. Of course. I guess I just needed to hear it from you.”

  He waited a beat, searching his mind for any excuse to see her. “But then, this is her first Christmas in Glacier Ridge, far away from Boston and everything familiar. And now her only relative is here with us.”

  “That’s what worries me. Still, you’ve been out in this snowstorm. What do you think? Would the roads still be passable?”

  Colin chose his words carefully, knowing how his mother reacted all these years later about any family member traveling icy roads. The loss of his brother and his brother’s wife had left its mark on her soul. “It does seem a shame for Doc’s niece to be alone on her first Christmas in town. Why don’t I give it a try?”

  “Oh, Colin, would you mind?”

  “You know I don’t.”

  At the warmth in his tone, she looked up sharply. “Are you saying you don’t mind that I really want Anita here?”

  “Ma, we both want her here.”

  She sighed, trying to keep her delight from being too obvious. “You’ll turn back if the roads are too icy? Promise me you won’t take any foolish chances, Colin.”

  He brushed a kiss over her cheek. “Promise. But don’t hold supper for us. Even if I manage to get through, with a storm like this you know we’ll be late.”

  “We’ll wait as long as we can. If we do eat without you, no matter how late you two get here, I guarantee you’ll find a feast.”

  Colin said his good-byes to the others before heading toward the mudroom. He chose his warmest winter parka before stepping outside. In the equipment barn he climbed into one of the ranch trucks and checked the gas gauge before driving along the curving ribbon of driveway that led to the highway.

  A snowy road trip wasn’t exactly how he’d planned on spending Christmas Eve, but
the thought of Anita Cross waiting for him at the end of the drive had him smiling as he turned on the radio and hummed along with Willie, crooning an old holiday standard. With any luck, they could be back here in a few hours.

  It just might turn out to be a holly, jolly Christmas after all.

  Anita peered through the magnifier, picking out shards of glass from Ben Whitfield’s wound before thoroughly cleansing it.

  She noticed that his big, strong father had to look away from the bloody mess.

  “You may want to take a seat over there, Huck. This is going to get worse before it gets better.”

  He didn’t need any coaxing. His skin had already turned the color of putty.

  “I’ll give you something to deaden the pain before I start stitching you up, Ben.”

  The teen swallowed hard before nodding.

  A short time later, assured that the lidocaine had taken effect, Anita began the task of stitching up the wound. While she worked, Ben watched with interest.

  She looked up. “Can you feel this?”

  He shook his head. “Even though I’m watching you, it’s like you’re working on someone else, Doc.”

  “That’s good. But you’ll have to endure some pain when the effects of this local anesthetic wear off.” She tied off the last stitch. “I’ll give you a prescription for pain. If you’re lucky, you may be able to fill it at Woodrow’s Pharmacy, if they haven’t yet closed for the night. If they have, call and leave them a message so they have it ready for you first thing in the morning. And just in case, I’ll find you a sample to take home so you won’t have to spend the night in any discomfort.”

  Satisfied that the wound was neat and tidy, Huck Whitfield stepped up beside his son. “I’m so glad you were here, Dr. Cross.”

  “So am I.” She gave him a warm smile.

  “I hope we haven’t spoiled your plans, Doc.”

  “Not at all.”

  The boy sat up and Anita braced a hand to his chest. “Hold on, Ben. You’ll want to move slowly for a while and maybe lean on your father when you leave here.”

  He was about to argue when he suddenly went pale.

  “Is the room spinning, Ben?”

  He nodded.

  Huck wrapped an arm around his son’s shoulders and held on until the boy’s normal color returned.

  “Wait here and I’ll get a wheelchair.” Anita turned and was out of the room before father or son could say a word.

  Minutes later she returned.

  Huck eased his son from the gurney and helped him into the wheelchair.

  At the reception desk, Anita wrote out a prescription and handed it to Huck, along with a sample pill from a drawer.

  He hurried outside and drove his truck right up to the front door. With Anita pushing the chair, he managed to get his son into the passenger side.

  “Thanks again, Dr. Cross.”

  “You’re welcome, Huck. Merry Christmas.”

  He touched the brim of his hat in a salute before rounding the truck and climbing into the driver’s side.

  The snow, Anita noted, was nearly knee-high.

  She gave a sigh of regret, thinking about the fine food her uncle had boasted about waiting for them at the Malloy Ranch. There was no way Burke would make it through this blizzard to fetch her and no way she could even make it back to her uncle’s house across town.

  It looked as though her first Christmas in Glacier Ridge would be spent in the sterile confines of the clinic.

  Not that it mattered. She’d spent plenty of lonely nights while working at the hospital in Boston. Like every profession, there was a pecking order. The newest interns were assigned the hours that the established doctors managed to avoid. And though Anita had enjoyed the camaraderie and the spontaneous celebrations she and the others often gave to lift their spirits on their working holidays, she’d missed the warmth of family that had been lost along the way.

  Tonight, it wasn’t the loneliness or the lack of dinner that had her spirits plummeting. It was the fact that she’d allowed herself to spin way too many fantasies about a certain rugged cowboy. Now here she was, staring reality in the face once again.

  Her sweet mother used to warn her that she was much too fanciful to endure the rigors of a medical career. Just thinking about the mother who died too young had Anita feeling the old twinge of regret. Her mother had always hoped her only child would follow her into a teaching career, but after spending time with her father at his medical practice in Boston, Anita had fallen completely under the spell of medicine. When she was just a little girl, she’d known that she would be a doctor like her father and her uncle. To that end, she’d worked doggedly through college and medical school, hoping to join her father in his practice. But when her father had remarried while Anita was fulfilling her internship and had moved across the country to begin a life with his new, much younger bride, Anita decided to make her own way and had stayed on in Boston.

  Her uncle’s need for an assistant had given her a lifeline when she’d most needed it. While she gave him the help he needed, he, in turn, filled her need for family.

  And it had come at the lowest point of her life, when a selfish surgeon had trampled on her poor heart.

  Shivering, she hurried inside, grateful for the warmth. At least she was warm and snug and safe from the storm. Hopefully Dr. Rob Miller would soon arrive from Rock Creek to share the work. Her uncle had assured her that Dr. Miller would take good care of their patients in their absence.

  She gave a firm nod of her head.

  What could possibly go wrong?

  Chapter Three

  The wind was howling like a beast, sending the snow into drifts that completely obliterated any trace of the road in places. As the ranch truck reached the end of the dirt track and inched onto the interstate, Colin could feel the wheels skidding as they tried to grab traction. A layer of ice on the pavement beneath the mounds of snow presented a real problem. For a moment the truck slid; then the wheels found a dry spot and Colin breathed a sigh of relief as he was able to guide his vehicle into a line of tracks dug deep into the snow. Apparently he wasn’t the only fool trying to navigate this blizzard. Now all he needed to do was hope the fool whose tracks he was following knew where the road ended and the snowbanks began.

  Even with the wipers at full speed, it was impossible to see more than a few feet through the blowing curtain of snow.

  He spotted the headlights of an approaching vehicle. When the car suddenly swerved, he realized it was heading directly into his path.

  To avoid the head-on collision, he turned the wheel as far as he could. He felt the rush of air rock his truck as the crazy driver roared past.

  Though Colin had managed to avoid an accident, he couldn’t stop the skid that suddenly turned into a wild spin as his truck careened off the road and landed backward in a deep gully.

  For long moments he sat very still, feeling the rush of adrenaline when he thought of what could have happened. Finally he reached for his cell phone. He was halfway between the ranch and town. An impossible walk in either direction.

  He studied his phone with a frown. There was no service. It was typical in a town ringed by so many hills and mountains.

  Forcing his way out of the passenger side of the truck, he studied the crazy angle and knew, without a doubt, there was no way he would be able to drive out of this mess. His truck was stuck here until the blizzard passed and a tow truck could make it through the interstate. It could be days before that happened. And with no phone service, he couldn’t hope for any help from the ranch.

  Knowing he couldn’t stay here, he turned up the collar of his parka and started walking. He had to choose between walking back to the ranch or toward Anita, and that was an easy decision to make.

  With the storm swirling around him, Colin had no way of judging how long he’d been on the road or how far he’d come when he heard the sound of an approaching truck.

  He turned and began waving his arms, hoping
the driver could spot him in the blowing snow.

  The snowplow slowed, then stopped.

  “Hey.” The driver shoved open the passenger door. “Not a night to be out in this mess. Where’re you headed?”

  “Glacier Ridge.” Colin climbed inside, grateful for the blast of heat. His hands and feet had long ago gone numb.

  “I won’t be going in that far. Our job is to clear the interstate first. Probably won’t hit the small towns until late tonight. But I can drop you a couple of miles from Glacier Ridge if you want to walk the rest of the way.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

  “I guess some guys will go through anything to get home for Christmas.”

  Colin didn’t bother to correct him. It seemed too much effort to explain why he was going to all this trouble on Christmas Eve.

  As the driver put the truck in gear and started forward, Colin gave a sigh. All this, and he had no way of knowing if Anita Cross would even be at the clinic by the time he reached it. If there were no emergencies or if the doctor they’d hired to handle their patients while they were away had finally arrived, she might have headed back to her uncle’s place. Though he’d tried calling several times, there was still no service. He wouldn’t know anything more until he got there.

  When the snowplow finally came to a halt, the driver called, “This is as far as I go. Glad I could get you almost home for the holidays.”

  “Thanks. Merry Christmas.”

  Colin stepped from the truck and directly into the blowing, drifting snow.

  It was too late to consider what he had gotten himself into. Like the gamblers at Clay’s Pig Sty, the local saloon in Glacier Ridge, who thought of themselves as those big-time gamblers they saw on television, he was all in.

  There was no turning back.

  Colin trudged through drifts that in places were nearly to his waist. His dark Stetson was mounded with a layer of white. His breath plumed in the frigid air.

  When he reached the town, it looked otherworldly, until he realized what was wrong. There were no lights. No blinking red and green on the gaudy tree in D and B’s Diner. No sparkly gold lights at Gert and Teddy Gleason’s new fancy spa next to their barbershop. And no winking welcome sign at Clay Olmsted’s saloon.