Long, Tall Christmas Page 8

  “Blue heeler. It’s an Australian breed. Best cattle dogs on the planet.”

  Hunter patted Sheila, laughing when she rewarded him with wags and kisses. “Hey, look! She likes me!”

  “I can tell,” Shane said, chuckling. “So you like dogs, do you?”

  “I love dogs. But we couldn’t have one when Dad was in the army because we traveled a lot. We couldn’t always take a dog with us. Amy likes dogs, too. Maybe Mom and Aunt Muriel will let us have one here.”

  “Could be. Wouldn’t hurt to ask.”

  “Oh, wow!” Jumping up, Hunter raced toward the stalls. “You’ve got horses, too! Can I touch them?”

  “Go ahead. Just don’t move too fast. Horses don’t like to be startled. The first one’s a girl. Her name’s Daisy.”

  Hunter reached over the gate of the first stall and stroked a finger down the face of Shane’s bay mare. “I’ve never touched a horse before. Her nose is so soft. It’s like—”

  He jerked his hand away as the mare sneezed. “Oh, yuck!” He wiped his sprayed hand on his trousers.

  Shane laughed. “If I’m still around come spring, I’ll teach you and your sister how to ride them. Every Texas kid should learn to ride.”

  “Are you saying you might not be here?” The boy sounded stricken.

  “I’m putting the ranch up for sale. Once it’s sold, I’ll be off to see the country, like I’ve always wanted.”

  “Oh.” Hunter kicked at the straw, his eyes downcast.

  “For now, there’s something else here you’ll like,” Shane said. “Come here. I’ll show you Sheila’s family.” He motioned Hunter into the stall where he kept the puppy box. “Go on in and look,” he said.

  Hunter peered over the side of the box. “Oh, my gosh!” he gasped as the puppies came tumbling toward him. “Can I hold them?”

  “Sure. They’re old enough to go to their new homes.”

  Hunter picked up one of the little females, giggling as she wriggled and licked his face. “What would I have to do to earn one of these?”

  “Sorry,” Shane said. “The three girls are already spoken for. And this little rascal”—he scooped up the little male with one hand—“he’s going to be my traveling partner. His name’s Mickey.”

  Hunter reached out to take the male pup. Mickey licked the boy’s chin and snuggled into his arms. “So you’re keeping him,” Hunter said.

  “That’s the plan.”

  “Too bad. He’s the one I like the best. Is the mother going to have any more?”

  “This’ll be her last litter. Sorry you missed out. But these purebred cattle dogs are worth a lot of money. When you’re ready to get a pup, you’ll find plenty of good ones in shelters.”

  Hunter hung on to Mickey a little longer, then released him back into the box. “Now what?” he asked.

  Shane raised an eyebrow. “You said you wanted to help with chores. When you keep animals, one of the first things you learn is that somebody has to clean up after them. We’ve got shovels, and there’s a wheelbarrow behind you. When we’re finished, we’ll leave them food and water, and then I’ll take you home. Now let’s get to work.”

  By the time Kylie returned to the kitchen, the cookies were cool enough to decorate. She creamed the butter and powdered sugar, added a little water and a few drops of vanilla, and whipped the mixture till it was smooth and fluffy. “There,” she said. “Who needs ready-made frosting?”

  “But, Mom—” Amy frowned at the icing.

  “What now?”

  “It’s white, Mom. These are Christmas cookies. We need colored icing and sprinkles.”

  “Oh, dear.” Muriel’s knitting dropped to her lap. “I haven’t had sprinkles in the house for as long as I can remember. But there might be some old bottles of food coloring on the back of the spice shelf.”

  “I’ll look.” Kylie rummaged through the little tins and jars. Toward the back corner of the shelf, she found a miniature cardboard box, like the one she remembered from her mother’s kitchen a generation ago. Inside were four tiny glass bottles—red, yellow, blue, and green. One by one, she held them up to the light, with her heart sinking. All four were empty; the colored liquid was either used or dried up.

  “I’m so sorry,” Muriel said. “I don’t know how long I’ve had those bottles, but I haven’t used food coloring in years.”

  Amy gave an audible sigh, her chin sinking into her hands.

  “Well, at least snow is white.” Kylie was determined to be cheerful. “They can be snow cookies, and we can sprinkle a little sugar on the icing to make them sparkle. How does that sound?”

  Amy gave her a dejected look. “I guess we can close our eyes when we eat them,” she said.

  “That’s the spirit.” Kylie spread a sheet of waxed paper on the table and handed her daughter a butter knife. “Let’s have some fun.”

  Decorating the cookies didn’t take long. Amy dabbed on the white icing with chilling indifference. Kylie used her fingers to sprinkle on grains of sugar. The cookies didn’t look bad; but as Amy had pointed out, they didn’t look much like Christmas, or even like snow, since the icing was more cream-colored than white.

  Chalk up one more strikeout for Mom.

  Kylie glanced at the kitchen clock. It was coming up on lunchtime, but there was no sign of the snowmobile. Maybe the machine had broken down, stranding its riders in the snow?

  She should never have let Hunter go off with Shane. A short ride around the property might’ve been all right. But in a moment of weakness, she’d entrusted her son to one of the last men she’d have picked as a role model. Shane’s bad-boy aura might seem glamorous to an impressionable youngster. However, Shane hadn’t gone to college, served his country, or held down any kind of professional job. True, he’d run the family ranch for years. But all he really wanted was to bum his way around the country on a motorcycle—not the sort of life she’d planned for Hunter, and certainly not what Brad would want for his son.

  Times like these were when she really missed Brad. Even when he was halfway around the world, he’d been able to talk to his family on Skype, hearing about the children’s progress and making sure, in his stern but loving way, that they behaved themselves. Hunter, especially, was at an age when he needed his father and the example of duty and discipline Brad had provided. That the boy, in his father’s absence, would turn to a roguish, impractical dreamer like Shane worried and frightened her.

  She would need to rein Hunter in before things got out of hand.

  By now, Amy had gone up to her room and Muriel had retired to her rocker by the warm fire. Kylie finished cleaning up the cookie project and had wiped the table down. She started assembling the turkey sandwiches she’d planned for lunch, along with canned beans and some potato salad. She’d be smart to make extra food. Henry would be hungry, and if Shane stuck around to work on the bike, she could hardly turn him away. Maybe later on, she’d get the chance to caution him about her son.

  She was layering lettuce and sliced tomatoes over the deli meat when the snowmobile roared up to the back porch. As she stepped outside, dazzled by the brightness of sun on snow, Shane cut the engine. Spattered with snow and grinning like the happy boy she remembered, Hunter climbed off the back of the snowmobile.

  “Don’t track snow into the house,” Kylie said. “How was the ride?”

  “Awesome!” He stomped his boots on the porch. “I helped Shane shovel snow and clean the barn. It was hard, but it was fun. Shane said I was a good worker.”

  “I’m glad you had a good time helping,” she said, sensing Shane’s eyes on her. “Now go inside and get washed up for lunch. It’ll be ready in a few minutes.”

  “Great. I’m starved.” He hurried inside, leaving Kylie on the porch. She shivered under her thin pink sweater.

  “You and Henry are invited for lunch, too,” she said. “I made plenty of sandwiches and salad, and I’m warming up some canned beans.”

  “Thanks. I’ll tell Henry.” Shane�
��s face was ruddy with cold; the stubble on his jaw was beaded with melting snow. He looked mouth-wateringly handsome. But this was no time to let her hormones take charge of her brain—not when the issue was his influence on her son.

  “That’s a fine boy you’re raising,” he said. “We made a good morning of it.”

  “I need to t-talk to you about that.” Kylie’s teeth had begun to chatter. Goose bumps puckered beneath her sweater.

  “Sure, but right now I can tell you’re freezing. Get inside. We can talk later. Go!”

  Kylie ducked back into the house and closed the door. She could smell the beans she’d left warming on the back burner. They were beginning to scorch. Blast that stove!

  Rushing through the kitchen, she snatched the pan off the heat. The beans would be all right as long as she was careful not to scrape the burned part off the bottom of the pan. But sometimes it seemed as if that stove hated being used by anyone other than Muriel.

  At least the sandwiches would be fresh and good. Kylie sliced each one in half and arranged them on a platter. By the time she’d ladled the beans into a bowl and put everything on the table, Shane and Henry had come inside and Muriel had awakened from her doze by the fire. “Now that looks mighty good,” Henry said, holding a chair for Muriel and sliding it in as she sat down. It was a tender gesture—but did Muriel even notice such things?

  “Get your sister, Hunter,” Kylie said.

  “Never mind, I’m coming.” Amy appeared in the kitchen and took her place at the table.

  There was a beat of uncertain silence before Muriel offered to say grace, and again that awkward joining of hands. It was a nice custom, really, and Kylie supposed she’d get used to it. But with Shane’s big hand cocooning hers—his rough and cool, hers smooth and warm—her pulse surged into overdrive. And it didn’t help that Muriel’s prayer was going on and on.

  “. . . Lord, we thank You for keeping us safe during the storm and for our friends and family who are gathered here to enjoy this wonderful meal.... Bless us this holiday season that each of us will find the true meaning of Christmas in our hearts. Bless us with joy and gratitude for this day. . . . Amen.”

  The prayer had been a beautiful one, but with her pulse driving heat through her body, it had been all Kylie could do to concentrate on the words. As the murmured “amen” echoed around the table, she broke Shane’s easy clasp and pulled away. Her cheeks were blazing. She lowered her gaze, wondering if he was looking at her, wondering if he’d noticed.

  “Hey, I’m starved! Let’s eat!” Hunter reached for two sandwiches and helped himself to some beans and salad. Kylie was tempted to scold him for his lack of manners, but seeing him happy was worth holding her tongue.

  In a moment, they were all filling their plates. Everyone seemed hungry except Amy, who was only picking at her food. Kylie gave her a worried look. The girl was right—life wasn’t fair. If only she had a reason to smile.

  “You should see Shane’s place!” Hunter, who was usually brooding or lost in his phone, was actually making conversation. “He’s got a big barn with horses in it! And he’s got a dog with four puppies—they’re blue heelers. Shane says they’re the best cattle dogs on the planet.”

  “Oh?” Kylie could imagine where this was leading.

  “Shane’s pups are all spoken for. But you know I’ve always wanted a dog. Amy too. Now that we’re here on Aunt Muriel’s farm, what do you say we get one?”

  Kylie hesitated. A dog would be fun for her children. But right now, with so many adjustments to make, a puppy underfoot would be just one more worry. “We’ll see,” she said. “Maybe this spring, when the weather’s better. And only then if it’s all right with Aunt Muriel.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t mind,” Muriel said. “My father always had dogs. I’d enjoy a dog now, but I’m getting too old to take care of one.”

  “See, Mom,” Hunter argued. “It would be fine. Wouldn’t it, Amy?”

  “It would be great!” Amy had brightened. “Hunter and I would take care of the dog! You and Aunt Muriel wouldn’t have to do a thing. Please say yes, Mom!”

  “Why wait so long?” Hunter asked. “We could start looking now, online.”

  Kylie knew when she was being railroaded, but things were happening too fast. Dealing with the move, the storm, and trying to put Christmas together, the stress was all she could handle. The thought of puppy puddles on the floor was more than her frayed nerves could stand right now.

  “We’ll talk about it later,” she said. “Show me that you can be responsible, help around the place, and keep your grades up. Then we’ll talk about getting a dog. End of conversation.”

  It’s what any good parent would say, Kylie told herself. But her children’s eager expressions had wilted like summer flowers at the first touch of frost. She sensed Shane’s eyes on her, his gaze questioning. What did he think of her?

  But why should it matter? Shane had no business putting ideas into her children’s heads without asking her first. The sooner she made that clear to him, the better for all concerned.

  An awkward silence had fallen over the table. It was broken by a sound from the direction of the road—the grinding roar of a big machine coming closer.

  Hunter was the first one out the door. “It’s a bulldozer!” he shouted. “It’s clearing the snow!”

  “Hallelujah!” Shane came out behind him, shielding his eyes from the glare. The town fathers must’ve rented the machine and driver from a local construction company. It didn’t cut smooth like a regular snowplow, but it was doing the job.

  Behind it came a truck from the power company with a cherry picker on the back. Shane waved at the driver, a man he recognized from town. With luck they’d have the power on in the next few hours—a good thing, since the generator was running low on fuel.

  He would need to clear the driveway out to the road for Henry and Kylie. That done, he’d be able to move his truck. But the snowmobile would still come in handy for the unplowed lanes and for getting around on the ranch. Maybe Henry would sell it to him.

  “Maybe I can get Mom to drive me into town later,” Hunter said. “Is there someplace where kids hang out?”

  “There’s a burger joint called Buckaroo’s on the end of Main Street. It’s got some arcade games in the back. But with the roads so bad, I don’t think you’d find many kids hanging out there, especially two days before Christmas.”

  “Oh.”

  “Come on,” Shane said. “Let’s go finish our lunch. After that, if you’re bored, you can help me shovel the driveway.”

  Hunter followed him back inside, scuffing his feet. The others were still at the table, Muriel sipping her tea, Henry spooning up the last of his beans. Amy had just set a plate of iced cookies in the center of the table. “We might as well eat them now, since they’re not really Christmas cookies,” she said.

  “They look like Christmas to me.” Shane took his seat next to Kylie and helped himself to a cookie. “They taste like Christmas, too.”

  “What she means is that they’re not red and green,” Kylie said. “We didn’t have colored icing or sprinkles. But now that the roads are clear, I could drive to Shop Mart and get some.”

  Shane’s eyes traced her profile, lingering on the luscious lips he’d kissed last night. Kylie had always been a perfectionist, he recalled. Now she was determined to give her children a perfect Christmas—and everything was working against her.

  Part of him wanted to gather her in his arms, rock her like a child, and tell her to quit knocking herself out. He wanted to say that Christmas was about warmth and family and celebration, and that fancy trappings didn’t matter. But something told him Kylie wouldn’t listen to him. And, sadly, neither would her children.

  “I wouldn’t try driving if I were you,” he said. “That bulldozer left a layer of packed snow on the road. With those bald tires of yours, you could slide out of control and wreck.”

  “You looked at my tires?”

  “I ga
ve them a passing glance. I’m surprised you made it all the way here without a blowout.”

  “If you need to go to town, I can drive you in my Jeep,” Henry said.

  “Thanks, Henry.” She gave him a smile. “But you’ve got better things to do. I won’t ask you to drive me, unless it’s for something really important.”

  In other words, rather than impose on Henry, she’d take a chance in that rattletrap wagon on those slick tires and probably end up stuck in a ditch. Too bad her vehicle was parked in the shed; otherwise, he could “accidentally” bury it in snow.

  Shane rose from his chair. “I’ll take another cookie. Then I’ll be off to shovel the driveway. No need to help me, Henry. I don’t want you throwing your back out like you did last winter.”

  “Maybe you should invest in a snowblower,” Kylie said.

  “Hardly worth it when a storm like this only happens once every few years. We’re tough here in Texas. We can shovel. Thanks for lunch, ladies—and for dessert.” Shane slid another cookie off the plate, lifted his coat off the chair, and walked outside.

  There were two shovels by the porch and a wide expanse of snow to clear off the driveway. Shane was hoping Hunter might come out and help him, but he didn’t show up. Maybe his mother needed him for something. Or maybe the boy was just tired.

  He’d resolved not to get involved with Kylie and her children, Shane reminded himself. But it was already happening. It had started when he’d kissed Kylie last night—a brief, innocent kiss that had rocked his senses in a way he couldn’t forget. Then this morning, he’d gotten to know Hunter, and to like the boy. Now he was concerned about the drivability of Kylie’s car and her safety on the road.

  He jammed the shovel under the snow and tossed the load to one side. Damn it, he was getting sucked in—and he wasn’t happy about it. He’d wanted to sell the ranch and make a clean break from Branding Iron, Texas, with nothing to call him back. Later on, if he got tired of being on the road, he could always settle down, but it wouldn’t be here. It would be someplace wild and beautiful, like the backcountry of Wyoming or the Pacific Northwest.