A Cowboy Family Christmas
Author
Judy Duarte
Reads
16,3K
Chapters
12
Chapter One
Dear Debbie,
I’m desperate and need your help.
Elena Montoya studied the first of several letters she’d been handed during her job interview at The Brighton Valley Gazette. She’d come here today, hoping to get her foot in the door at the small-town newspaper, but as a reporter. Not someone offering advice to the lovelorn in a weekly column.
Mr. Carlton, the balding, middle-aged editor, leaned forward, resting clasped hands on his desk. “So what do you think?”
Seriously? Elena would be hard-pressed to offer advice to anyone, especially someone with romantic trouble. But she didn’t want to reveal her inexperience or doubt. “I’d hoped to land a different assignment—or another type of column.”
“Let’s see what you can do with this first.” Mr. Carlton leaned back in his desk chair, the springs creaking under his weight, the buttons of his cotton shirt straining to contain his middle-age spread.
Elena knew better than to turn down work, even though this job wasn’t a good fit. Worse yet, the pay he’d offered her wasn’t enough to cover a pauper’s monthly expenses. And since she was new in town, she needed a way to support herself.
But as an advice columnist? The irony was laughable.
“You look a bit...uneasy,” the editor said.
She was. Either Mr. Carlton had neglected to read her resume or he’d confused her with another applicant.
“It’s just that...” She cleared her throat and chose her words carefully. “Well, don’t get me wrong. I’m happy to have this position, but I only took two psych courses in college. And since I majored in journalism, I’m more qualified to work as a reporter.”
“Don’t worry. It shouldn’t be too difficult for a young woman like you, Elena.”
She cringed at his use of her given name. The last thing she needed was for her new co-workers at the newspaper—or any rodeo fans in the small Texas community—to connect the dots and realize who she was. And why she looked familiar—in spite of her efforts to change her appearance.
“By the way,” she said, “I go by Lainie.” At least, that’s the childhood nickname her twin sister had given her.
“All right,” Mr. Carlton said. “Then Lainie it is. But keep in mind you’ll be known as ‘Dear Debbie’ around here. We like her true identity to be a secret.”
A temporary secret identity was just what Lainie needed. After that embarrassing evening, when rodeo star Craig Baxter’s wife had caught him and Elena together at a hotel restaurant in Houston and assumed the worst, Elena had done her best to lay low. The next day, she’d relocated to a ranch outside of Brighton Valley, where she could hide out until she could rise above those awful rumors—all of which were either untrue or blown way out of proportion.
Elena had tried to explain how she’d come to be there that night—how she had no idea that Craig was a rodeo star, let alone married—to no avail. Kara Baxter had been so angry at her husband, she’d thrown a margarita in Elena’s face and read him the riot act. As if that hadn’t been bad enough, someone at another table had caught it all on video, and the whole, ugly scene had gone viral. And now Kara’s friends and Craig’s fans blamed her for splitting up a marriage that wouldn’t have lasted anyway.
“Do you have any other questions?” Mr. Carlton asked.
As a matter of fact, she had a ton of them, but she didn’t want to show any sign of insecurity.
“I do have one question,” she admitted. “Some of the people writing these letters could be dealing with serious issues. And if that’s the case, I’m not qualified to offer them any advice.” Nor should she counsel anyone, for that matter.
Mr. Carlton shook his head and waved off her concern. “Our last Debbie used to have a stock answer for the bigger problems. She told them to seek professional help.”
Lainie nodded. “Okay. Then I’ll use that response.” A lot.
“Just focus on the interesting letters or on those that trigger a clever response,” Mr. Carlton said. “It’s really just entertainment for most people. But keep in mind, if the readership of the Dear Debbie column increases, I’ll give you a bigger assignment in the future.”
At least, he’d given her a chance to prove herself, something she’d had to do time and again since the third grade, when she’d gone from a foster home to a pediatric intensive care unit and lost track of her sister. “I’ll give it my best shot, Mr. Carlton.”
“Okay, kid. What’s the best number if I need to get a hold of you?”
“I listed my cell on my resume, although that’s not the best way to reach me. I’m temporarily staying at the Rocking Chair Ranch. Since the reception isn’t very good there, and the Wi-Fi is worse, you’d better call me on the landline.” She pointed to her resume, which he’d set aside on his desk. “I included that number, too, and marked it with an asterisk.”
“If you don’t mind me asking, why are you staying at a retirement home for old cowboys?”
“Because I’m filling in for the ranch cook, who’ll be gone for the next three weeks.” When Lainie first heard about the temporary position, she’d declined. But after that awful run-in with Kara Baxter, she’d changed her mind and accepted it out of desperation, realizing it would provide her with a place to stay until she could find something better and more permanent in town.
Oddly enough, she actually felt a lot more comfortable staying at the Rocking C than she’d thought she would. And she liked the old men who lived there. Most of them were sweet, and even the crotchety few were entertaining.
Mr. Carlton pushed back his chair and got to his feet, signaling the interview was over.
Lainie stood, too. Still hoping for something more respectable and better paying, she said, “I minored in photography, so if you need a photojournalist, that’s another option.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. Consider this your trial run, kid.”
Lainie nodded and reached for her purse.
Mr. Carlton headed for the door of his office and opened it for her. “I’ll send you a copy of the letters electronically, and even if you’re somewhere with terrible web access, your column is due by email before midnight on Wednesday. I can’t wait to see it.”
“You won’t be disappointed. I’ll channel my inner Debbie.” Lainie tamped down her doubt, offered him a smile and lifted the letters in her hand. “You’ll love what I do with these.”
Mr. Carlton beamed, clearly convinced that she’d work a miracle of some kind, but Lainie knew better. And she feared that by Friday morning, when her first column came out, her inadequacy would come to light.
* * *
Rodeo promoter Drew Madison drove his pickup down the county highway on his way to the Rocking C Ranch, listening to a Brad Paisley hit on the radio and sporting a confident grin. His plans for the Rocking Chair Rodeo were finally coming together, and a date had finally been set. The county-wide event would be held at the Brighton Valley Fairgrounds in April.
Drew’s boss at Esteban Enterprises had granted him free rein on the project, although he’d insisted that Drew move in to the Rocking Chair Ranch for a few weeks, interview the old cowboys who lived there and write a few blog posts sharing their stories.
While Drew had graduated from college and certainly knew how to put a sentence together, he’d never considered himself a writer. But his promotion to VP of the company was on the line, so he’d brushed away his doubt and agreed to do it.
Besides, how hard could writing a few stories be?
His cell phone rang, the Bluetooth automatically shutting out the Brad Paisley tune. He assumed it was another business call, but when he looked at the dashboard and spotted his sister’s name on the display, his heart clenched.
Kara Lee had been going through a lot lately, so he’d made it a point to check up on her each morning and evening. To have her contact him in the middle of the day was a little unsettling.
He answered quickly and tried to keep his tone upbeat. “Hey, sis. What’s up?”
“Not much. I’m just bored, I guess. I called your office, and they said you were traveling. Not that it really matters, but I thought you would’ve mentioned something about it to me.”
He hadn’t meant to keep it a secret, but neither had he wanted her to worry about him being gone and unable to get to the hospital in time if she went into labor. She’d nearly lost her baby last week and was on complete bed rest now.
“Actually,” he said, “it’s a new assignment. I meant to tell you about it, but I had to cut our morning call short.”
“How long will you be gone this time?”
Longer than he wanted to admit, although he was looking forward to meeting the retired cowboys. “I’ll be gone for a few weeks, but I’m not far from Houston. If you need me, all you have to do is call. I can get there within a couple of hours.”
“I’m sure that won’t be necessary,” she said, but the tone of her voice betrayed her words. “I’ll be fine.”
He certainly hoped so. Kara Lee had wanted to be a mother for as long as she could cuddle a dolly. And after three miscarriages, she’d made it to the fifth month this time around. For each day the little boy remained in the womb, the better chance he had.
“So where’s this assignment?” she asked.
“The Rocking Chair Ranch. The rodeo will be sponsoring them in the spring, so I’m working on the promotion.”
“Is that the retirement home for cowboys?”
“And ranchers.” He’d been reluctant to mention anything about rodeos or cowboys since the night she found out her husband, rodeo star Craig Baxter, was having another affair. The stress from the confrontation with him and his lover had caused her to go into premature labor.
When Drew got word of the public blowup and learned that Kara Lee had been hospitalized, he’d wanted to beat the tar out of his brother-in-law. But Kara Lee had begged him not to, and he’d been reluctant to do anything to upset his kid sister, especially when the survival of her son was precarious. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t be tempted to knock Craig’s lights out the next time he saw him.
Kara Lee had told Craig to pack his crap and to get out of the house, which he did. But she hadn’t yet filed for divorce, mostly because she wasn’t able to deal with the legal proceedings when she was lying flat on her back. But once the baby came, Drew would do whatever he could to facilitate a fair and amicable split. One of his friends was a divorce attorney in Houston, and he’d already mentioned the case to him. He just hoped his sister didn’t soften and take Craig back.
“You sure you’re okay?” he asked her again.
“Yeah, especially since I’ve made it to the twenty-sixth week. At least the baby now has a chance to survive.”
“That’s good to know.”
As silence filled the line, he decided to change the subject. “So what are you doing?” The moment the question rolled off his tongue, he wanted to reel it back in. Hell, what could a bedridden pregnant woman possibly do, other than read or watch TV?
She let out a sigh. “I wish I could work on the nursery, but I’ll have to wait until after little Robby gets here.”
“I’ll tell you what,” Drew said. “As soon as I finish this project at the Rocking C, I’ll spend a few days at your place. Make a Pinterest board of stuff you like. When I get back, I’ll be your hands and feet. We’ll have it done before you know it.”
“I love you, Drew.”
“Aw, for Pete’s sake. Don’t get all sappy on me, Kara Lee.” She’d been a tomboy when growing up—and a barrel racer in high school. So he wasn’t used to seeing her softer side. It must be her hormones.
“You’re the best, Drew.”
“No. I’m not.” He’d taken on a demanding job that required him to travel, so he hadn’t been there for her recently, like he’d always been in the past.
He kicked himself for that now. If he’d been around more, he might have talked her out of marrying Craig. But that was all muddy water under the bridge now. From here on out, Drew was going to be the brother she deserved.
If Kara Lee suffered yet another miscarriage, losing the baby she’d already named and loved, there was no telling what it would do to her.
“By the way,” he said. “I called an agency that provides home health services and asked them to send someone out to your house for a few hours each day. She’ll do some light cleaning and run errands for you while I’m gone.”
“You didn’t need to do that.”
“I know, but I wanted to. It makes me feel better to know someone is with you or at least just a phone call away.” He thought she might object, more out of pride than anything else. But she surprised him by accepting his effort to help.
“You know what, Drew? You’re going to make some woman a wonderful husband.”
He laughed. “My last two relationships didn’t fare very well, thanks to all my travel.” Well, that and the fact that he was beginning to enjoy being a tumbleweed, rolling through life on the whim of the wind.
Just like your old man? He winced, then discarded the thought as quickly as it came. He wasn’t at all like his father.
“Besides,” he added, “I’m not cut out for marriage, family or a home in the suburbs. If I was, I wouldn’t enjoy being on the road so often.”
“A woman who really loves you wouldn’t complain about you being gone.”
“I don’t know about that. You’d be surprised.”
“At least, you’d never cheat on her.” She paused for a beat. “You wouldn’t cheat, would you?”
“Me? No, I’ve always been honest with the women I date. From the very first time we go out, I make it clear that I’m not the domestic type.”
“I’m not buying that,” Kara Lee said.
Drew wasn’t about to let his little sister psychoanalyze him. Who knew what assumptions she’d come to, right or wrong.
When he spotted the big yellow sign that indicated he’d reached the Rocking C, he said, “Listen, I have to hang up now. But I’ll give you a call this evening.”
“You don’t have to. I know how busy you are.”
“I’m never too busy for you.”
And that was the truth. Kara Lee was the only family Drew had left, and after all they’d been through, especially her, she deserved to be happy—and to finally be a mom.
“I’m curious,” she said. “Where will you be staying while on the ranch?”
“They’re putting me up in one of the cabins so I can get a feel for the daily routine. It’s not just a retirement home, it’s a working ranch. So the whole enterprise is new and innovative. I’d like to check it out.”
“Good luck.”
“Thanks. I’m actually looking forward to having a change of pace—and to being in the same place for longer than a few days.”
“So says the family rover. Maybe you’re more cut out for home and hearth than you think, especially if you meet the right woman.”
“Oh, yeah? We’ll see about that.” Drew turned onto the long, graveled drive that led to the Rocking Chair Ranch. “I’ll talk to you later.”
When the line disconnected, he slowly shook his head. If there was one thing he’d learned over his thirty-one years, it was easier to be a rover than to deal with the countless people who weren’t what they seemed and were bound to disappoint you.
Thank goodness he wasn’t likely to meet any of that type on the Rocking C.
* * *
It had been two days since Mr. Carlton had hired Lainie to write the Dear Debbie column, but she still hadn’t made any headway in answering a single letter.
She’d been busy settling into her temporary job. But that wasn’t the whole story. In fact, none of the problems of people seeking Debbie’s advice had triggered a clever or witty response, and Lainie was stumped.
She sat at the kitchen table, reading through the letters, trying to choose an interesting one or two to include in her first Dear Debbie column. While she pondered, her fingers tapped softly on the keyboard without typing out a single word. She glanced at the clock on the microwave, noting how much time had passed since she’d done the breakfast dishes, and blew out a sigh. Her midnight deadline loomed.
“You can do this,” she whispered aloud. Then she reread the letter on top of the stack.
Last year, I met John, the most handsome, amazing man in the world, and I knew I’d finally met Mr. Right.
Last month, Lainie had met Craig...
Darn it. She had to stop projecting that jerk into each of these stupid letters written by someone who’d either been jilted or disappointed by various people in their lives.
All I’ve ever wanted was to fall in love and get married, but now my heart is broken, and my life is a wreck.
“Tell me about it,” Lainie muttered. Well, not the broken heart. She’d gone out with Craig only three times, but the rest of it sounded pretty darned familiar.
Then, a few weeks ago, a woman who works at John’s office started hitting on him and lured him away from me.
Lainie leaned back in the chair and shook her head. From the comments left on the YouTube video of her that night at the Houston hotel, it seemed everyone in the rodeo world thought she’d targeted a married man and tried to lure him away.
During the blowup, his wife had told him off, implying that he was a serial cheater, a secret he apparently kept from his legion of fans.
“Aw, come on,” Lainie scolded herself. “Focus on this woman, this letter, this problem.”
Yet how could she? She was the last person in the world who should offer romantic advice to anyone, let alone a stranger who hoped for an easy fix.
Darn it. No matter how badly she’d wanted a job at the Gazette—and she needed one if she wanted to support herself—she’d been crazy to agree to taking over for Dear Debbie.
Footsteps sounded in the doorway, drawing her from her reading. She glanced up to see Otis “Sully” Sullivan enter the kitchen. The sweet, kindhearted old man had a jolly way about him. Each time she laid eyes on the retired cowboy, she couldn’t help but smile. With a head of thick white hair and a full beard, he reminded her of Santa Claus, especially today when he wore a solid red flannel shirt.
“Hey, Sully.”
“I’m sorry to bother you, but is there any more coffee?”
Lainie set aside the letter she’d been reading, pushed back her chair and got to her feet. “It’s no bother at all. And you’re in luck. There’s still at least a cup left.”
She poured the last of the carafe into a white mug. “I could make a fresh pot.”
“No need for you to go to any extra trouble.” Sully took the mug she gave him, gripping it with gnarled hands, and thanked her. “That was a nice breakfast you fixed us today. I haven’t had good chilaquiles in a long time. My late wife used to make them for me every Sunday morning, but she usually overcooked them.”
Lainie laughed. “Did she? How were mine?”
“Best I’ve ever had. Nice, crispy tortillas. Perfectly scrambled eggs. Mmm, mmm, mmm.”
Lainie beamed at the compliment. She wasn’t used to getting many. “Thanks, I’m glad you liked them. When I was a little girl, my grandmother used to make them for me and my sister.”
“You got a sister?”
“Yes, a twin.”
Sully brightened. “Where is she?”
Lainie had no idea. The two of them had been separated years ago, when Lainie had been taken from the group home and sent to the hospital to be treated for an undetected congenital heart defect. It had taken a while for the doctors to decide upon a treatment plan, and by the time Lainie recovered from her lifesaving surgery, a couple arrived at the children’s home, adopted the healthy girl and left the sickly one behind. From what Lainie had gathered, her sister’s new parents had been afraid to assume financial responsibility of a child with such serious medical issues.
As a result, she hadn’t seen her twin since, but she offered Sully the happy outcome she’d imagined for Erica. “She’s happily married to her high school sweetheart and has a two-year-old daughter.”
Before Sully could press further, Lainie turned the conversation back to the chilaquiles. “Anyway, my grandmother passed away before she could pass on her recipe. But when I got older, I did some research and a little experimenting until I came up with a batch that tasted nearly as good as hers. I hope they weren’t too spicy.”
“No,” he said, “not at all. The salsa was perfect. In fact, that was one of the tastiest meals I’ve had since I moved in here. Not that Joy, our regular cook, isn’t a good one, but she’s more of a down-home, meat-and-potatoes gal. And I like good Mexican food once in a while.”
“That’s a relief. I knew I’d have some big shoes to fill, taking Joy’s place in the kitchen while she’s on her honeymoon.”
“I haven’t heard any complaints yet. And that’s saying a lot, considering some of the old geezers who live here. They rarely keep their opinions to themselves.” Sully glanced at the letters on the table. “I didn’t mean to bother you. I’ll just take my coffee into the living room and let you get back to whatever it was you were doing.”
“Actually, I don’t mind the interruption.” Although she really should. With each tick and tock of the kitchen clock, her midnight deadline drew closer. And who knew if the ranch internet would work? She might have to drive into town and find Wi-Fi somewhere. Darn it.
“You look fretful, which doesn’t do your pretty face any good. What’s bothering you?” Sully nodded toward the stack of letters. “I hope it isn’t bad news.”
“It’s just...a friend with a problem.” Lainie chewed her fingernail and stared at the pile of unanswered letters. “I’m trying to come up with some wise advice, but I’m not feeling very wise.”
Sully’s smile softened the lines in his craggy face. “Wisdom comes with age and experience. Back when I was in my twenties, heck, thirties, too, I was under the false notion that I was as smart as I’d ever get.”
Lainie had thought the same thing after her college graduation, which wasn’t very long ago. Then Craig had taken her for a ride, leaving her with an unearned bad reputation and distrustful of sweet-talking men who couldn’t tell the truth to save their souls. She’d learned a big lesson the hard way, but that hadn’t made her an expert at facing romantic dilemmas.
“Want me to give it a shot?” Sully asked.
Was he offering his advice? Lainie wasn’t sure what the dear old man might have to say, but at this point, she’d take all the help she could get. “Sure, if you don’t mind.”
Sully pulled out a chair, took a seat and rested his steaming hot mug on the table. “What’s the problem?”
Lainie scanned the opening of the letter and caught him up to speed, revealing that her “friend” was twenty-four years old, relatively nice-looking with a decent job and a good sense of humor. Then she read the rest of it out loud.
“Three weeks ago, I found out the guy I was living with, the man of my dreams, was seeing another woman. We had a big fight, and he moved out. I’ve been crying every day, and I’m desperate to win him back.”
Sully clucked his tongue. “A man who cheats on his partner, romantic or otherwise, isn’t a prize worth winning back. That’s what I’d tell her.”
Lainie had once thought Craig was a prize, and boy, had she been wrong about that. It’s a shame she hadn’t had Sully nearby when she’d been taken in by that liar’s soft Southern drawl. But Sully was here now. And providing the wisdom this letter writer needed.
“That’s a good point,” Lainie said. It was clever, too, and a good response for the column. “I’ll mention that to...my friend.”
Male voices sounded outside, growing louder until the mudroom door squeaked open. A second later, Nate Gallagher, the acting foreman, entered the kitchen.
Sully acknowledged Nate with a nod, but Lainie focused on the man walking behind him. She guessed him to be a rancher or horseman, since his stylish Western wear suggested he could afford to hire someone to do the dirty work. He was in his early to midthirties, tall and nice looking, with broad shoulders and a rugged build.
He removed his black Stetson, revealing sandy-blond hair, which he wore longer than most of the rodeo cowboys she’d met. Not that she’d ever been a buckle bunny or even attracted to that kind of guy before she’d met Craig.
And after that awful night, she’d sworn off men indefinitely. Yet she found herself stirred by this one’s presence. He also looked familiar. Had she met him before?
“Meet Drew Madison,” Nate said. “He’s handling the Rocking Chair Rodeo promotion.”
Just the word rodeo sent Lainie’s heart slamming into her chest. Had she seen him while on one of the few dates she’d had with Craig?
No, she’d never forget a man like him.
But if he and Craig ran in the same circles, he might recognize her. For that reason, she’d better get out of here. She didn’t mind being around the older cowboys, some of whom had ridden in the rodeo back in the days before cable television and social media. But a recent connection spelled trouble—and further humiliation.
Nevertheless, she wouldn’t be rude to a ranch visitor. So she placed the letter she’d been holding upside down on the rest of the stack on the table. Then she got to her feet and said, “It’s nice to meet you. I’ll put on a pot of coffee.”
Then she did just that. If there was one thing she’d learned in her short time at the Rocking C, it was that the cowboys, young and old, loved a fresh brew.
As the coffee began to perk, Lainie studied the pot as if it might bounce off the countertop if she didn’t stand guard.
She fingered the side of her head, checking to see if any strands had come loose. She used to wear it long, the curls tumbling along her shoulders and down her back. But after that video had gone viral, she’d pulled it up into a prim topknot—just one of several alterations she’d made to her appearance so she could fade into the background until that ugly incident was forgotten.
When the coffeemaker let out a last steamy gurgle, she poured two cups, then turned to face the younger men. They continued to stand in the middle of the kitchen, speaking to Sully, who was still seated at the table. She was about to excuse herself and leave them to chat among themselves, but her curiosity betrayed her and she took one last glace at Drew, who’d zeroed in on her.
“For some reason,” he said, his gaze intense enough to see right through her, “it seems as if I’ve met you before.”
“That’s not likely,” she said. “I’m not from around here.”
“Where are you from?”
She wanted to ask, What’s up with the third degree? Instead, she said, “I’m from up north—originally. But I’m sure we’ve never met. I just have that kind of face. I get comments like that all the time. Sugar? Cream?”
“I like it black.”
His gaze continued to roam over her, as if removing her façade one piece at a time. But she pushed through the discomfort and handed him a mug.
He thanked her but didn’t take a drink. Instead, those baby blues continued to study her as if trying to pinpoint where they’d met. But wouldn’t she remember if they had? A woman wouldn’t forget a man like him.
No, he was mistaken. She glanced down at the loose blouse and baggy jeans she wore today. She hadn’t used any makeup. Her curls had been pulled into a bun.
But when she again looked at him, when their gazes locked, her heart soared and her hormones flared. For a moment she wished she’d been wearing that red dress Craig had given her for her birthday and insisted that she wear to the hotel that night, their first significant date, where they were to celebrate by having dinner. But she suspected someone who frequented thrift shops had already snatched it up, pleased with their find.
“If you’ll excuse me,” Lainie said, “I have work to do.”
Then she left the kitchen and headed for her room.
After that awful night in Houston, she’d made up her mind to steer clear of handsome cowboys. And Drew Madison was as handsome as any cowboy she’d ever seen.
