The Secret of Santa

by Liz Isaacson

  He simply liked her, and he leaned down and matched his mouth to hers, a fire rising within him that knew no limit…and that could really burn his entire life to the ground with one errant spark.

  “Banana bread,” he said to Bishop as he tossed the loaf in front of his cousin. He sighed as he sat at the table. “I had to wait in line for twenty minutes to get that.”

  “Thanks,” Bishop said with a grin. He nudged the box of pizza toward Ace, who reached for a slice. The cardboard bore heat and char marks, which meant Bishop had put the whole thing in the oven to warm up the leftovers.

  “What’s that?” Bishop asked, nodding to the paper bag Ace had left on the counter.

  “Ward’s sprouted wheat bread.” Ace made a face, and the two of them laughed. Just then, Ward walked into the homestead using the side door, and he didn’t look happy.

  “…not your decision to make,” he finished saying, and Ranger followed him. Cactus came last, and he glanced at Ace and Bishop sitting at the table. He rolled his eyes, which meant Ranger and Ward were just having a brotherly spat. They did from time to time, because they worked closely on the ranch’s finances and Ranger’s app. Sometimes his oldest brother would think he was right simply because he was older. He did have a brilliant mind, especially with complicated things like coding and sending out messages to thousands of people. But Ward thought outside of any box Ace had ever seen, that was for sure.

  “What are they arguing about this time?” Bishop asked, reaching down and feeding a bit of sausage to The General, Oakley’s black and white cat.

  “Ranger ran into Sabrina Hendrick,” Cactus said. “He told her that Ward would call her, and well, Ward doesn’t want to call her.” Cactus reached for a piece of pizza as Ranger and Ward continued into the kitchen and poured themselves cups of coffee. “At least they’re not ganging upon me to sing in the blasted Christmas program again.”

  He spoke with a measure of darkness only Cactus could achieve, and Ace watched as he exchanged a glance with Bishop. Ah, so there was something there.

  “What was that?” Ace asked, because he could. He knew Cactus too. Maybe he didn’t get invited out to the man’s cabin as often as Bishop—or ever—but he’d been driving him to therapy for months now.

  “Nothing,” Bishop said, moving his attention back to the cat.

  Cactus pulled out a chair and sat. “There’s this woman at church.” That was all he had to say, and Ace got it.

  “She must sing.”

  “She leads the choir,” Bishop said, and Cactus growled. “What? You started it.”

  “You just told him exactly who it is.” Cactus shook his head and took off his cowboy hat. He ran his fingers through his getting-long-again hair and sighed. “I don’t know why I care. She knows I like her. Why does it matter if the rest of the world does too?”

  Ace didn’t say anything, though he knew who Cactus was talking about. Willa Knowlton led the choir. She’d come to town several months ago with her brother, who’d come to stand in for Pastor Summers. He’d fallen and hurt himself, and though Pastor Summers was healed up now, both Willa and her brother had stayed in Three Rivers.

  “She knows?” Ace asked, his voice pitching up a little in his attempt to seem nonchalant.

  “I asked her out once,” Cactus said.

  “I thought you were going out with Violet Hamshire,” Bishop said. “Are we not doing that?”

  “We never were doing anything with Violet Hamshire,” Cactus said, rolling his eyes again. “Listen, will you ask Montana if she’ll come look at my roof? I swear I felt the wind blowing in my face all night.”

  “Sure.” Bishop stood up. “Let’s go right now.”

  “Where is she?”

  “She’s out in True Blue,” Bishop said. “She had a meeting with a client, and she’s using the big room there because the homestead is a little crazy.”

  “I’ll say.” Cactus didn’t move to get up. Bishop looked at him for an extra moment and then walked away.

  “He worships you, you know,” Ace said, reaching for another piece of pizza. “It wouldn’t kill you to throw him a bone every now and then.”

  Cactus turned his hooded, ultra-dark blue eyes on Ace. “Bishop knows how I feel about him.” He really could be scary when he wanted to be.

  “Okay,” Ace said, refusing to let himself be intimidated. It was all an act anyway. A way for Cactus to cover up the extreme pain he dealt with on a daily basis. “How are the new hires doing with the fences?”

  “They’re eighteen-year-old kids,” Cactus growled. “I’m pretty sure half of them will quit before the weekend.”

  Ace chuckled, because he wouldn’t blame them. The pay sounded really good—and it was for cowboys in the area—but when it came right down to it, the work was hard and never-ending.

  But they only re-fenced the ranch once every five or six years. In addition to his veterinary work, Cactus oversaw a handful of big projects, and he had to work with a variety of people. Ace found it odd that he could do that, but he couldn’t come to a family party or live closer to the core of Glovers.

  At the same time, when Holly Ann hadn’t come to the party last week, Ace had immediately left. His brothers and cousins asked so many questions. And the twins were far worse, and since they’d been there, Ace had figured anywhere else he could go, he should.

  Ranger and Ward sat down at the table, each with something leftover from the fridge in front of them. The General meowed to make sure everyone with food knew how terribly hungry he was. “How’d breakfast go?” Ranger asked, pushing the cat away. “No. Stop it.”

  “Yeah,” Ward said. “Tell us about it.”

  Ace thought of the scorching kiss with Holly Ann, his internal temperature blasting off like a rocket.

  “Turns out, she doesn’t like sausage links,” he said. “Only the patties. But the candied bacon was a big hit, so remind me to tell Bishop.” He grinned at his brothers, knowing that wasn’t the kind of update they wanted.

  Ace wasn’t sure he could give them the emotional update. Or the one where he confessed how strong his feelings already were, and that he was actually terrified that Holly Ann wouldn’t reciprocate them.

  She sure had kissed him back, though, so maybe he was worried about nothing.

  Thankfully, everyone seemed distracted today, and no one pushed him for her reaction, what she’d said, or anything past the candied bacon.

  Eventually, Ranger got up with the words, “I have to go run an update for a minute,” and Cactus left without saying anything to anyone.

  Ace looked at The General, who closed his eyes almost all the way as if telling Ace he was a nice, docile cat. Hungry, but docile. “I should probably go find something to do in the equipment shed,” he said. There was always something that needed to be repaired, as he’d been helping with the fences here and there and then finishing up the plowing under of the fields they’d leave dormant next year.

  “Can I tell you something first?” Ward asked, glancing around to make sure they were alone.

  Ace’s heart seized. “I guess,” he said, though he and Ward had shared many things with each other over the years. “Is it a secret?”

  “Yep.”

  Ace swallowed. The number of things he was storing for people kept climbing, and he wasn’t sure if he could keep all the secrets straight.

  He hadn’t dared to breathe a word about Aunt Lois’s boyfriend, not even to Ward, who wouldn’t say anything to anyone. Aunt Lois would never know Ace had even told him.

  He hadn’t told anyone he was driving Cactus to therapy, though a few people knew Cactus was seeing a counselor.

  He hadn’t told anyone that Mister lived with him and Ward. Well, just Bishop, who wouldn’t have told anyone else.

  “Ida’s fairly sure Brady’s going to propose soon,” Ward said, leaning away from his empty plate and clearing his throat.

  “That’s it?” Ace asked. “That’s not a secret.”

  “S
he asked me if I’d walk her down the aisle.” He glanced over his shoulder again, and when his eyes came back to Ace’s, they were dark and filled with something dangerous. “I don’t want Ranger to feel bad. Ida’s worried about it too, and well, neither of us know what to do.”

  Ace blinked, his mind blurring as he tried to think multiple thoughts at the same time. “Well,” he said slowly. “Surely Ranger will understand that you and Ida have always had a special relationship.”

  Ward nodded, but he folded his arms, which indicated he hadn’t heard Ace at all. “She’s worried about Etta’s reaction too.”

  “That’s actually legitimate,” Ace said, sighing. “Etta’s going to feel left-out, no matter what. Ida and Brady can’t help that.”

  “I know.” Ward sat stoic and still, but Ace knew that mind was working overtime. Sometimes, when Ward really needed to work through a problem, he took his guitar out to the back porch and plucked away on the strings for hours.

  Night after night, and then one day, he’d come inside and sit at the writing desk he’d inherited from their father. An hour later, he’d have a brand-new song. Ace had encouraged him to bind them all together and make a book, but Ward had never done it.

  He groaned as he stood up. “Okay, well, I have to go get some stuff done for the Cowboys Provide Christmas thing.”

  “Did you get approved already?”

  “Not officially,” he said. “But I will, and I want to check-in with everyone.”

  Ace nodded and flipped his phone over and over while Ward left the homestead.

  Ace stood and headed for the front door, as it provided a more direct path to the equipment shed. He left the house and closed the door behind him quietly, because Ranger had been complaining about how everyone came and went at the homestead at all hours of the night, and they weren’t even quiet about it. A family memo had been sent on their group text about respecting the privacy of those who actually lived at the homestead and trying to be quiet when entering and exiting.

  Sammy was pregnant now and due in the next few months, and Ace wanted to be respectful.

  He found Benny lying on the front porch, and he stopped to scratch the black and white dog that had come to Shiloh Ridge when Sammy had married Bear. Benny belonged to her, but the dog was really Lincoln’s, her son’s. Since they both left during the day, the pup usually hung out with Bear, who’d trained him up real nicely to work with horses, as well as the other cattle dogs.

  “Hey, bud,” he said, smiling at the canine. “Where’s Bear?” He glanced around, but he didn’t see his big, broad-shouldered cousin.

  He did, however, hear his voice.

  “What’s going on, Duke?”

  Ace straightened, but he still didn’t see Bear. He cocked his head to the side as another voice joined the conversation.

  “I’d like to marry Arizona,” Duke Rhinehart said, his voice steady and strong. “I’d like to ask her knowing I already have your blessing. You’re like a father figure to her, and it’ll be important to her.”

  The voices came from down the porch, and Ace turned that way. The deck wrapped around the house on both sides, and the two men must have retreated to the side verandah to talk in private.

  “I don’t know, Duke,” Bear said with a heavy sigh.

  Ace’s muscles tensed. His curiosity shot toward the sky while his brain beat at him to get out of there before he heard something he wasn’t supposed to hear.

  “Is this because of what happened almost twenty years ago?” Duke asked.

  “I suppose so,” Bear said. “You’ve been welcome around here, Duke, but she deserves to know the truth.”

  Ace could just imagine Bear’s pointed look as he asked, “Have you told her about it?”

  “No,” Duke said, his voice hard and almost a bark. “Like you said, it’s in the past. I’m surprised you know about it.”

  “I worked with my daddy long before he died,” Bear said. “Here’s the deal, Duke. You tell her the truth. If she doesn’t break up with you, that’s my blessing.”

  “Bear,” Duke said, but footsteps met Ace’s ears. To his horror, he realized he’d actually been edging closer and closer to the corner of the house, and he had zero time to move before Bear arrived.

  Duke came right behind him, and they both stalled as they met Ace’s eyes.

  “I was just heading out to the equipment shed,” Ace said, gesturing in some random direction out onto the ranch. “I heard you, Bear, and remembered I needed to ask you something.”

  Bear settled his weight on one leg and cocked his eyebrows at Ace as if to say, Well, go on then.

  Ace swallowed and looked at Duke. Big mistake. The man wore a storm on his face, and he knew Ace hadn’t just happened by.

  “I didn’t mean to overhear,” he blurted out. “Honestly. I really was going to the shed, but I saw Benny, and he’s never more than ten feet from Bear.”

  “What did you hear?” Bear asked.

  “All of it, I think,” Ace said. “I’m sorry. I won’t say a word to anyone.”

  Two more secrets, and Ace felt like he might throw up.

  “I’d really appreciate that,” Duke said gruffly. “Bear.” He tipped his hat and strode away, ignoring Benny’s thumping tail and practically flying down the steps.

  Ace watched him go, because holding the mighty Bear’s gaze was out of the question.

  “Not a word,” Bear said. “To anyone. Got it, Ace?”

  “Yes, sir,” he said automatically, very much like the way he had to Bear’s mother only a couple of days ago. “I won’t say anything.”

  Bear looked out over the ranch too. “I do wish the past could stay in the past sometimes.” With that, he walked away too, bending down to stroke Benny’s head just once before they went into the homestead together.

  “Dear God,” Ace practically moaned as he sagged against the porch railing, looking up as he petitioned the Lord. “How many secrets am I going to have to keep from my family?”

  Chapter Eight

  Cactus Glover sat at the tiny table in his tiny kitchen, a single bowl of soup in front of him. His skills included horseback riding, glaring, and making meals that fed exactly one.

  He stared at the phone he’d propped up against the bag of croutons, wishing his glare could burn a hole in the device.

  He swiped at it like a tiger clawing at his next meal. The phone clunked against the table, but at least Cactus wouldn’t have to see the idiotic dating app he’d opened.

  “You’re not doing that.” He stuck a bite of too-hot soup in his mouth and immediately regretted it. But it had to stay in or go out, and he wasn’t going to spit into his food.

  So it burned all the way down his throat and into his stomach, ruining any appetite he’d had in the first place.

  He had been dating Violet Hamshire, but he’d had to break it off. It wasn’t fair to keep seeing her when he felt absolutely nothing for her. In fact, that was Cactus’s definition of torture.

  “No, it’s not,” he said. “Your definition of torture is going to church every week and seeing Willa, and you do that willingly.”

  Dr. Thompson, his therapist, had been encouraging Cactus to do things in a completely different way than he’d ever done them before.

  “If you normally put your pants on with your right leg first, try using your left. If you always load the dishwasher after every meal, see if you can let the dishes pile up before you touch them.”

  Stupid stuff, in Cactus’s opinion. He’d tried to put his pants on by leading with his left leg, and he’d dang near hit his head on the corner of the dresser when he’d stumbled and fallen. As he lived alone, a head injury like that could prove fatal if no one found him in time.

  As he got up and rinsed his hard work down the drain, Cactus stalled once again. Yes, he normally cleaned up after every meal. That way, when it came time to eat again, everything sat ready and waiting for him.

  He set the dirty bowl in the sink, wondering what
it would prove.

  He looked out the window above the sink, disliking the time change that made darkness cover Texas an hour earlier than it normally did. He also disliked the way his brain told him that it wasn’t only because he lived alone that it would take a while for someone to find him should he get injured.

  He’d purposely kept everyone at arm’s length for a very long time. In the past couple of years, he’d actually made some great progress. He’d started talking to more brothers and cousins, and he’d started to integrate himself back into the family. But he could feel himself sliding backward. Maybe he was running backward. He wasn’t sure.

  Cactus had a love-hate relationship with God, and he stood in his small house, grateful for it, for the ranch where he lived, and the land surrounding him. At the same time, he was angry—still—and he wanted the Lord to please, please direct his feet toward a path that would get him to happiness.

  “I’m honestly not sure how much longer I can exist like this,” he whispered. He reminded himself that he had found some closure surrounding his son and his ex-wife.

  He’d even texted Allison this year, telling her she was welcome at Shiloh Ridge any time if she’d like to visit their son’s grave. She’d replied that she appreciated the offer, and she might take him up on it sometime.

  He’d wanted to ask her where she was living. He’d wanted to know if she’d found a way to move on. He’d wanted to find out if she’d found someone else to love, and started a new life, the way she’d said she would.

  He thought of the last time he’d seen her, her tears streaming down her face, her pained, high-pitched voice telling him she was going to do her best to find peace and start again.

  She’d encouraged him to do the same.

  Cactus had hated her for a long time because of that. He did not understand how one could find peace after the death of their child. He couldn’t fathom starting again. He hadn’t wanted to start again. He wanted what he’d already had.

  Someone knocked on his front door, and Cactus turned away from the window. He’d left his hate in the past, so he had made some progress.