Christmas on the Ranch
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Jennifer Slattery
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Chapter One
Following her phone’s GPS down a long, two-lane highway, Evie Bell slowed as she neared the wooden archway of Bowman’s Rough Stock Ranch.
New Day Caregivers hadn’t been joking when they’d referred to her assignment location as “off-the-beaten path.” She’d expected country lodging but assumed she’d at least be near a shopping mall or steakhouse. Her brief drive down Main Street had dashed all hopes of weekend entertainment. Sage Creek, Texas, boasted little more than an old-fashioned diner, a coffeehouse/bookstore, a library and a handful of boutiques.
Decorated for Christmas, the town itself was beautiful. But she still had to wonder, what did the locals do for fun? Horse riding and hunting?
She’d hired on as a traveling in-home caregiver, hoping to blend her love for people with her passion for adventure.
She’d anticipated diverse backgrounds and cultures and exploration of new locations during her off hours. She had not expected to land in horse country, as Sage Creek’s welcome sign had so proudly proclaimed. Until now, she’d turned down rural assignments. But this one came with a significant financial bonus.
She feared this assignment would be her loneliest yet.
At least she’d only be here three weeks, during which time she hoped to earn enough favor with her boss to secure the next big-city assignment. Then she’d enroll in nursing school, which would widen her options and increase her salary.
Maybe she could even work at a local hospital. “And meet a handsome and available doctor?” She laughed as her mom’s teasing words replayed through her mind. But the statement did carry some truth. The closer she came to thirty, the louder her biological clock ticked. She was ready to find a life partner, to build a family.
Dust kicked up behind her as she drove toward the sound of bellowing cattle. As she passed pastures bisected by a fence and stables, two large barking dogs raced after her. She sucked in a breath, her gaze shooting from them to the handful of cowboys talking outside an arena. She assumed one of them was Monte Bowman, the ranch owner and the man responsible for her being here.
She sensed this was going to be far from a spa experience.
What had she gotten herself into?
She mentally reviewed the details from her client’s file. Monte was a single father in his late twenties, raising twin five-year-old girls. His great-aunt, age seventy-five, had stage 3C ovarian cancer.
The aunt and kids, Evie could handle. But if the guy was expecting her to do any type of ranching, he was in for a disappointment. New Day Caregivers wasn’t paying her enough for that.
She followed the curve of the road past more grassland bordered by mature trees to a blue single-story with a timber-frame portico. The covered porch bore simple fir garlands woven through the railings and accented every couple feet with red bows. Two vibrant poinsettias burst from pots wrapped in gold paper and were positioned on either side of the front door.
She wasn’t surprised by their lack of lights. Monte had probably struggled to manage his family, let alone worry about decorations. Although she did find it odd that Tracy, their former caregiver, hadn’t made the place more festive.
Maybe that would be a way she could connect with the Bowman children. She could make hot cocoa, turn on holiday music and invite them to adorn their Christmas tree with ornaments and tinsel.
She parked behind a maroon four-door with a large smiley-face sticker in its back window. A red pickup sat in the shade of a large gray shed a few feet away. The dogs, one with long black fur and pointed ears, the other splotched with three shades of brown, yapped near her door, as if daring her to step outside. Hopefully, someone would hear them and come out of the house to escort her in.
Until then, she’d stay put.
She shot Mr. Bowman and his great-aunt a text to let them know she’d arrived—in case they hadn’t gathered as much from all the ruckus—and pulled her makeup bag from her purse.
When she was young, her dad used to make a game of counting the freckles on her face. “Sun kisses”, he called them. Said she got her auburn hair and porcelain skin from her mom, her silver-blue eyes from him, and her quiet nature from the good Lord above.
A tap on her side window startled her, and she turned to see a broad-chested man with light brown eyes rimmed in green peering at her from beneath a gray cowboy hat, espresso-colored hair curling up under the brim.
With his strong jaw, thick brows and slight smile, he looked like he belonged on the cover of a clothing catalog.
Donning a professional smile despite an unexpected flutter through her midsection, she lowered her window. “Hello. I’m Evie Bell.” She handed him her business card.
“Figured as much.” He tipped his hat at her. “I’m Monte Bowman. Martha, your patient, is my great-aunt.”
“Nice to meet you.” They’d spoken briefly by phone a few days ago.
He opened her door for her. “Welcome to what most folks around here refer to as horse country.”
Her gaze shot past him to the dogs, seated on either side of him, ears alert, eyes trained on her.
“Don’t let these loudmouths fool you none.” He flicked a hand toward the larger of the two. “They’re a pair of biteless beasts.” He chuckled. “The black one’s named Max. He’s as big of a baby as they come. This other guy’s Finn, and he likes to think he runs the place and single-handedly keeps our fifteen-hundred-pound bulls in check.”
She glanced at the animals grazing in the nearest field. “Wow. They’re massive.”
“About half a truck.”
She eyed the fence. It didn’t look as robust as she’d like, considering all the muscle contained inside. “They ever get out?”
He gave a slight shrug. “Once in a while, if a corner post gets knocked down.”
Not the most encouraging response he could’ve given. She was quickly regretting accepting this assignment.
“Come on in.” He motioned her forward. “Let me introduce you to my aunt and girls.”
She grabbed her purse from the floorboard. “That sounds great.”
He climbed the steps and paused on the stoop. “Excuse the mess. If my aunt was feeling better, there wouldn’t be a dish out of place. But you know how it is.”
“I understand completely, and I hope I can alleviate some of your stress.” People tended to crave order more when their lives felt chaotic. Experience had taught her that. Tidying up their living spaces was one of the easiest ways she could increase their peace.
Opening the front door, he indicated for her to precede him. He smelled like an enticing mixture of leather, cedar and citrus.
Once inside, he took her coat and hung it up for her. “Weatherman’s predicting high sixties next week. I’d say that’s one of the blessings of hill country winters. My girls would disagree. They’re always hankering for a white Christmas.”
“I’m with them. Snow always makes things seem more festive. But then again, I don’t spend nearly as much time in the elements as you do.” She hoped he wouldn’t expect her to take on outside chores.
He moved a pile of children’s clothes and a well-loved blanket to clear space on the brown leather couch. “Have a seat.”
Coloring pages, pencils, crayons and partially eaten bags of crackers cluttered the coffee table. A mound of shoes gathered near the door, and dust danced in the sunbeams slanting through the window. A fake-looking tree stood in the corner. The sporadic and low placement of ornaments indicated the children had helped.
Although the home was slightly disheveled, it was cleaner than she’d expected, all things considered.
Monte looked from the empty kitchen that extended from the den to a back hall. “I’ll go see where the ladyfolk are.”
Nodding, she set her purse at her feet and sat with her back straight, ankles crossed, fingers intertwined over her knees. These initial encounters always felt like job interviews, this one even more so, considering the termination of their previous caretaker.
He returned. “My aunt’s catching a nap. Lucy Carr, a family friend from church, must’ve taken the girls to their tree house. Can I get you something to drink? Cup of coffee, sweet tea or iced lemonade?”
“Whatever’s easiest, thank you.”
He nodded and retreated into the kitchen. The sound of a cupboard door then fridge opening and closing followed. “Supper’s in a couple hours.”
“Can I help with that?”
“I’ll just pull out some leftovers. The local quilting club brought us enough food to about feed half of Sage Creek.”
“That’s thoughtful.”
He returned with two tall, steaming mugs and handed her one. “You okay with hot chocolate?”
She inhaled the rich, soothing scent. “That sounds lovely.”
He sat kitty-corner to her. “Figured you might want something to help fight off the chill. As to our church family, not sure what we would’ve done without them.” His expression tightened. “You heard what happened with Ms. Tracy Gray, the gal you’re replacing?”
“I know she was let go.”
“I came home from a rodeo to find her gone, my aunt sleeping, and the girls running amuck.”
“That must’ve felt like a betrayal.”
“She said that was just the once.” He scoffed. “I’m just glad my Callie—she’s the risk-taker of the two—didn’t get caught between a fence railing and a fifteen-hundred-pound bull.”
Evie could tell he didn’t trust her. Why should he, considering what had happened with the last caregiver? He’d had plenty cause to sever his contract. The fact that he hadn’t showed how much he needed help.
He studied her for a moment. “I ’spect your outfit gave you the rundown on my great-aunt. She’ll turn seventy-six this February, and this is her second bout with cancer. They say that makes it harder to fight, but if anyone can beat this monster, she can. She’s one tough lady. Proud, too, which means she might not ask for help when she needs it or speak up when she’s in pain.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Bonus points if you can make her laugh. She especially loves it when the girls put on shows for her.”
That had to be hilarious and adorable. “Does she have children?”
He shook his head. “Never married. Always said she got her kid-fix working for the school system. Taught sixth grade for nearly four decades. When my ex-wife, now deceased, left us three and a half years ago, she moved in to help me raise them.”
Left as in died? Except the way he frowned when he spoke suggested she’d taken off before her death.
“I can’t imagine how challenging that must have been, running this ranch as a single dad.” Then to have his great-aunt get sick? Poor guy probably felt like life had kneed him in the chest then hurled him in white water rapids without a vest.
Considering his good looks, she was surprised some pretty woman hadn’t pranced into his world already. Did the fact that he was single mean he had commitment issues?
That wasn’t any of her business.
“Aunt Martha was a godsend.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “As you can imagine, she means the world to my girls. And they do a great job of keeping her entertained.” He chuckled.
“I look forward to meeting them.” She took a sip of her drink, her gaze drifting to a series of photos displayed on the far wall. In one of them, he stood beside two brunette toddlers sitting on a spotted horse. “They’re twins, right?”
“Yep. Turned five this past September. Two days shy of the kindergarten cutoff.”
“Are they in preschool?”
“Start next week. I was late getting the girls signed up. When I finally did, they put us on a waiting list. They’re good kids, but they’re a handful. ’Specially Callie. That girl’s always climbing up something, and she’s got two gears—full speed ahead, or stop. Whether she’s running her legs or her mouth.” Fatherly humor lit his eyes.
She laughed. “Sounds like she’ll keep me on my toes.”
“That’s a fact.” He lined three crayons lying on the table side by side. “You have much experience with children?”
His pointed expression revealed his concern. “Some.” Only not as a caregiver. She’d primarily worked with dementia clients, although telling him that wouldn’t increase his confidence in her.
Good thing all parties had signed the personal care agreement, because if this had been a job interview, she felt certain the man would escort her out.
While she didn’t fault him his apprehension, she needed to demonstrate her competency before his last threads of trust in the company shred completely.
She’d already spent her recent bonus—the incentive for taking this job—on car repairs.
“Figure we’ve spent enough time chitchatting.” Taking their mugs, Monte stood. “Up for a brief tour of the property? Thought you may want to stretch your legs some. Course, if you’d rather take a moment to unwind...”
“A walk sounds lovely, thank you.” She grabbed her purse, a shiny purple bag decorated with iridescent beads that matched her shoes, and stood.
He retrieved her jacket, which carried a slight floral scent, from the closet and handed it over.
Her wavy hair, streaked with hints of blonde, reached just below her chin and flecks of silver shimmered in her blue eyes like an early morning frost. Standing, the top of her head reaching his shoulders, she looked fit but not all that strong. Her clothing was better suited for the city than a ranch. At least she wasn’t wearing heels.
He hadn’t expected her to be so beautiful. Not that it mattered. He was much too busy raising world champion bulls, God willing, to fall for a gal that’d be gone quicker than a drought could turn pasture to dust.
Besides, he’d fallen for a city girl once, and was left with a heartache that took two years to bounce back from. And his girls were left with a gaping mama-hole.
Was Evie’s attire evidence of her trying to leave a good first impression, or was she that ignorant about ranch life?
He’d find out soon enough.
She waited in the entryway while he wrote a note telling Lucy and Aunt Martha whom the car out front belonged to and where he was taking Evie. He figured they’d assume the part about the vehicle but might wonder where they’d taken off to. After depositing their mugs in the dishwasher, he poked his head in the fridge to note supper options.
Lucy probably would pop the casserole she’d brought over into the oven before she left, and they still had plenty of pickled beets and fresh tomatoes from lunch.
He loved knowing his girls would grow up in such a loving community, with fresh air, land to explore, and the satisfaction that came from working with their hands. That made all the struggles and setbacks he’d experienced raising bucking bulls worth it.
So long as he earned enough to pay the bills—a constant concern for any cattleman, those raising animal athletes especially.
That reality had caused his ex-wife deep frustration.
This ranch hadn’t been enough for her. He hadn’t been enough for her. So, when a wealthy horse breeder from Dallas started paying her attention, she’d bailed on Monte and her daughters. She was killed in a car accident a year later. He probably shouldn’t have grieved her like he had, considering how she’d betrayed him.
Unfortunately, his heart had taken a while to catch up with his head.
Shaking off the thought, he turned and strode back through the living room to where Evie waited.
He opened then held the door. “After you.”
She smiled then stepped onto the porch and down the stairs. Max, his ten-year-old Lab-mix, trotted ahead of them, tail wagging, while Finn, his younger buddy, chased after a squirrel scampering up a nearby fence post.
Evie fell into step beside him on the gravel road that led to the barn and stables, alerting him to her soft lavender scent.
She gazed toward the east pasture where about half his herd grazed. “How much land do you own?”
“Two hundred fifty acres.”
She raised her eyebrows. “That’s a lot.”
He shrugged. “Might sound like it, but the average cattle ranch in Texas is near double that.”
“Wow.”
“Big animals need a lot of forage.” He picked up a stick, waved it at Max, then tossed it a good twenty yards ahead. “I have seventy-five head of cattle. Thirty bucking-bred, twenty-five yearlings, three champion sires, twelve PBR”—she probably didn’t know what that meant. “Professional Bull Riders, Inc. competitors, and the rest heading that way. Then there’s half a dozen chickens, five horses, a donkey and two pigs.”
“Your ranch’s name, Rough Stock, is there a story behind it?”
He cast her a sideways glance. “You asking how I got started in this business?”
“That, and why you call it that.”
He frowned. “Rough Stock?”
She nodded.
She was even greener than her city-gal getup implied. “That’s what they call bucking broncs and bulls—like those cowboys ride in rodeos.”
“Is that where you sell them, then?”
“Some. For others, I form partnerships with investors. They buy in for a thousand, I raise and train the bulls until they’re old enough to compete. Then, based on how they do, we decide whether to keep them or auction them off.”
“They get paid on their performance?”
He nodded. “My investors and I split the winnings. Not every bull’s a champion, obviously. But if you get yourself a superstar, they can bring in hundreds of thousands of dollars.”
“I had no idea. Or that they could be trained for that matter. Ever have a dud?”
“For sure. Sometimes, you’ll get one that refuses to buck or won’t calm down in the bucking chute. Got to auction them off, at a loss. It takes a lot of money to raise competition bulls. Ever spent time on a ranch, Evie?”
She shook her head.
Max trotted back and dropped his stick at Monte’s feet.
He threw it again, farther this time. “This can be a dangerous place for greenhorns.”
Running a hand up and down the back of her arm, she looked away.
A few months ago, he was convinced New Day Caregivers was the best outfit to care for his aunt. They’d asked him pages of questions, related to everything from medical needs to family preferences. They promised to pair the Bowmans with the best possible match, and in many ways they had—with Ms. Gray.
Until she turned irresponsible.
Seemed, when it came to Evie, the decision-makers had sent the next available body. Then again, he doubted they’d had much choice. Ms. Gray’s negligence had left everyone scrambling. Regardless, he didn’t have many options. As much as he loved Sage Creek, he doubted the town was high on caregivers’ must-visit list.
And that was why Evie was here, filling in until her company sent a longer-term replacement.
Lord, we need You. Give Aunt Martha strength to fight this, keep the girls safe, and help me be the father they need without neglecting the ranch.
Because if his bulls didn’t perform well, he stood to lose a lot more than his dream of raising PBR champions. Keeping this place in the black and paying for the level of care Aunt Martha and the girls deserved didn’t come cheap.
He should be grateful Evie had come on such short notice, so close to Christmas, and to an environment that clearly made her uncomfortable. Poor woman’s face had paled a full degree when he answered her question about the bulls ever getting past the fence.
Under other circumstances, her vulnerability probably would’ve triggered his protective side. To an extent, it did. And her delicate beauty stirred a reaction he might otherwise welcome. If she wouldn’t be gone before his neighbor started planting his spinach seeds.
Regardless, he’d hired her for one purpose—to care for his family. He didn’t have the luxury of thinking about anything else.
He showed her his pastures first. “Most of the year, we rotate our cattle, so they don’t overgraze.” Although you wouldn’t know that from looking at them. The dry fall had hit everyone hard, hay and grain producers included. That led to higher-than-normal prices, which made him think seriously about which bulls he could keep and which ones he’d need to cull.
Droughts always forced ranchers to make hard decisions. At least he was able to supplement their diet with burnt cacti. He’d learned about the plant’s high protein content years ago while ranch handing.
Max started to trot back toward him then got distracted by a flock of wild turkeys and took off after them.
“We wean our calves at eight to ten months of age,” Monte said. “Then we put them on our pro-performance feed.” With how dry it’d been, that cost a pretty penny as well. When he needed to turn a profit more than ever. “About three months later, we start training them—getting them used to being handled, the bucking chute and whatnot.”
“Do you keep all your bulls together?”
“Yep.”
“They don’t fight?”
“Sometimes, least till they establish their pecking order. After that, so long as they’ve grown up together, they get along well enough.”
They passed the tree house he’d built for his girls the summer before. Behind this snaked a creek that swelled in the spring and shrank come August. It cut through the back corner of his land, through the trees, and wound behind the windmill that pumped water from the ground to irrigate his pastures and keep his cattle hydrated. When the well didn’t run dry.
“Stables are over there.” He pointed to a large red building lined with glassless windows adjacent to the arena. Three of his horses, along with their Shetland and donkey, grazed nearby.
“They’re beautiful.”
He suppressed a chuckle, amused by the obvious delight in her eyes. “Want to feed them a treat?”
“Absolutely.” She must’ve intended to hide her enthusiasm, because she straightened, and her almost childlike smile turned formal. “Thank you.”
With a slight nod, he led the way to the tack room where he kept grooming tools, feed, saddles and other gear. He pulled some keys from his pocket and unbolted the door guarding a large tub of grain, a container filled with peppermints, and an old and partially dehydrated bag of carrots. “Got to keep this area locked up so my girls can’t get to it and give the horses a belly ache.”
Whinnies and nickers drifted toward them as he deposited a scoopful of grain into a bucket. “My Callie’s quicker than lightning. One minute, she’s helping me muck the stalls. The next, she’s double-fisting candy.”
“For herself or the horses?”
“Both.”
She followed him to the railing where two of his mares stood, ready and waiting, ears forward, big brown eyes trained on them. “They know what’s coming, huh?”
“They hope, isn’t that right, Applesauce.” He scratched the paint’s neck then turned to Evie. “Want to become her new best friend?”
“Sure.”
He poured grain into her outstretched hands.
Lady Mule gave a loud hee-haw, startling Evie. “Oh, my. Someone’s hungry.”
“Always got to get her nose in the action. She’s our self-appointed pasture protector. Isn’t that right, girl?” He tickled her upper lip.
“Really?”
He nodded. “Donkeys are fighters. Highly territorial, too. They can take on a coyote any day. They also help drive away disease-carrying possums.”
“Now that fable about the mule, the monkey and the mountain lion makes much more sense.”
“Haven’t heard that one.”
She relayed the story, initially told to her during the “worst camping experience ever.”
“It wouldn’t have been so bad if I hadn’t attracted every mosquito in Washington State,” she said. “Or our parents hadn’t made us clean our own fish.” She wrinkled her nose. “Suffice to say, sleeping on the ground is not my idea of a relaxing vacation.” Her gaze swept across the horizon before landing on his recreational trailer parked near the tree line. “I take it you’re a big outdoorsman?”
“The girls’ mom and I used to call that old, rusted hunk of metal home. We bought it from an older couple who must not have used it or aired it out in decades. We burned at least a hundred scented candles that first year.”
She used to joke that his bulls had better accommodations than they did. He’d told her they were their route to a real home and promised to build her one as soon as their animal athletes began earning more than they ate.
He’d made good on that promise a year later and thought for sure they were steadily heading toward the life they wanted.
Clearly, she’d never shared that dream. Not that he could blame her. Ranch life required a special kind of woman, one with grit, who wasn’t worried about breaking a nail or getting mud on her blue jeans.
He cast Evie a sideways glance. Did the woman even own a pair of jeans? Or boots, for that matter?
