by Tanya Hanson
Yep, someone who shunned the limelight just like he did. A regular person, not a celebrity chaser or wannabe country star eager for some show time. Even in humble cowboy country, even opting out of most of his dad’s PR and photo ops, the groupies always seemed to find him.
The last single Calhoun.
His breath turned silver with cold. Even out of the corner of his eye, he liked looking at Lori.
She nodded at the road. “Looks like you have more passengers to pick up at the parking pasture.” Her brow furrowed for just a split second. “I should get out. You might need my seat.”
“Nah, we’ll squish.” Heston smiled at her concern. Saw more than concern about the passengers, though. Something had permanently crinkled the edges of her pretty eyes. Navy blue like the sky? Hard to tell in the starlight.
“OK then.” She settled back against the upholstery, leatherette against the elements. Her tan-and-red plaid coat shrugged around her, big red scarf swathed her neck. Enough of her long, dark brown hair wisped down her shoulders to make his fingers want to run through it.
“That’s good then, you not having to participate in your father’s show?”
He deftly got the sleigh turned around. “Well, I can’t say I never do.” He shrugged. “Dad can be mighty persuasive. Part of the show’s appeal is, well, family values. He likes us all to appear once in a while.”
“Like tonight?”
“Yep. But I gotta admit”—Heston tossed a glance into her big bright eyes and felt something down to the toes of his boots—“he’s a down-home family man, but he likes being a TV star. He’s got over-the-top confidence and likes everybody he meets from the get-go.”
“So how did it all start?” she murmured.
He hoped she was truly interested. Not just being polite. She definitely wasn’t a fan of the show, or else she’d know.
Beneath them, the sleigh runners slipped and slid and sang a wavy tune all their own. And he wanted the night never to end.
Heston waved to a batch of new arrivals still fifty yards away. “Somebody at church pitched him to CabinFever Cable Channel. Heard about their idea for a ‘reality’ show about real-life ranching. But I think, with the name of our spread, Dad didn’t dare say no. The High Noon ranch.”
“High Noon Ranch? Even I’ve seen that classic movie.” Lori’s burst of laughter was sweet. “Are Heston and Cagney and the others the reason for the name?”
“Nooooo. It started long ago”—Heston tossed her a grin— “when our ancestors homesteaded outside the small town of Sunset Hills. There’s a natural rock formation on a cliff side that works like a sundial. And it fits an area named for sunset. The area got its name in the 1880’s.”
“Incredible.”
“Yep. But Dad is kind of unique in ranching society. It’s a good fit.” His deep laugh must have sounded to the group waiting a ride, for they all waved and called out helloes.
“Why is he unique? Well, other than High Noon. Isn’t ranching, well, just ranching?” Lori’s nose scrunched. It had reddened with cold but was adorable anyway. “Cows, hay. Fall markets?”
He grinned at her. “Not from here, are you?”
“No. San Antonio. I’m visiting my grandparents for the holidays.”
“Well, you got a lot of it right. Throw in mud. Blizzard. Drought. Spring roundup. The occasional enteric infection. But Dad, well...he’s unique.” Heston peered at her from beneath his brim.
His breath hitched, and he felt like junior high. Her smile so weakened his knees he was glad he was sitting in the sleigh. “He’s one of just a handful of ranchers who are certified to perform C-sections on struggling cows.” Heston cleared his throat to calm down. His voice wasn’t actually shaking, was it? “That’s good airtime. So is his helicopter. He uses it to help herd cattle where horses can’t get to. And of course, sometimes Search and Rescue calls on him for transport.”
“I am impressed. A man of many talents. I think he has a new fan. Me.” Lori’s gentle laugh breathed over him. “I better start watching the show. Even though…” Her voice changed. “You won’t be on it.”
Was she actually disappointed? His heart took a funny tumble.
In the sleigh’s lantern light, her cheeks turned a shadowy pink, and then and there, he decided to take everything as a compliment. Maybe it was weird, though, talking about his father instead of her. Or even himself. But he plunged on. Her hand was so close to his knee…
“Aw, you won’t miss me. Dad’s hard to live up to. Last fall, he and the helo rescued a horse that had fallen into a crevice. Film crew happened to catch everything. And a few holidays ago, he transported Mountain Cove’s pastor in a medical emergency.”
“He does sound pretty unique.”
“Well, just hold your horses.” Heston hoped she didn’t mind his lame pun. “You can meet him in a bit.”
Did she tense?
They’d reached the new crop of guests, and as he’d done with Lori, he helped the ladies in the sleigh. None of them caused his fingers to zing, though.
Conversation switched to a rousing version of Winter Wonderland. Everything seemed all right in Heston Calhoun’s little corner of the world.
At the drop-off at the front porch, his stepbrother Pike Martin helped him unload. “Time to switch, Hess. Go inside and warm up.” Pike noticed Lori and took her against him for a quick hug. “Lori! Awesome. So glad you make it. How’s Ernie?” His face wore true concern.
“Better.” Her pert nose crinkled. “But poor Gram. He’s not a very good patient.” She glanced over at Heston.
He grinned. Obviously she was already close to the Martin family and felt right at home.
“It’s a bone spur repair on his foot,” she told Pike, “but you’d think he’d gone through a full amputation.”
Pike hopped aboard the sleigh. “Sounds like you need some of Uncle Albert’s killer eggnog.” He smacked his lips and took the reins. “It's worth its reputation.”
“Wanna try the eggnog?” Heston asked Lori, not wanting to leave her. Aching for her to feel the same.
“I should check on my niece.”
Heston grinned. “Ummm, Miriam’s fine without you. “Between our families, there are eleven grownups with kids. Child-tending is a second job.”
“All right then.” But she spoke and moved slow. “I’d like to see the horses.”
Heston held out his elbow. “Let’s go check out the corrals. You know horses?”
They headed across the yard toward the bunkhouse and the corrals teeming with horses. All had grown deep winter coats and would be stabled inside for the night. But right now, each wore antler headbands.
Lori burst out laughing—it was a beautiful sound—and pointed toward the Percherons. “Very festive.”
“Yep. I bet they make it into the episode.”
She shivered a little, but of course it was just the wind. “Well, they look adorable. Although I should come up with a less girly adjective. Anyway, yes, I do know horses. My dad rode rodeo. Saddle broncs.”
“Cool.” He nodded, liked the way her long hair tufted in the wind.
Her hand rustled over his sleeve, and their feet crunched into the snowy path. “I know rodeo is romantic in its way, but it’s also a lonely way to grow up. Daddy was often away on the circuit.”
“Must have been tough.”
“Well, he’s a good man. And not all grown-ups make decisions with the kids in mind, you know. Like your dad did.” It sounded as though her tongue almost stumbled over the words, but maybe it was the cold air.
They reached the corral, and he brushed snow off the fence rails so they could lean against them. “You just here for Christmas?”
“Yeah. Although I’m not totally on vacation.” She rested her hands on a leftover clump of snow. “I brought some work with me. Marketing. My company set up an ergonomic home office for me, but I can do quick jobs when I'm away from my desk.”
“Home office? Sounds lonely.” He wasn’t prying, just int
erested.
“It suits me.” She looked off into the night, not at the horses. “I don’t know if I’d like the bustle of a ranch going on all the time. Or TV crews.”
A beautiful horse neighed softly into the calm air and laid his muzzle on Heston’s shoulder. With a gentle “aw”, Lori kissed his nose, and Heston’s heart tumbled.
“Most of the time, the High Noon is the working ranch it's always been. The producers only film about sixteen weeks a year.” His voice shook a little. He hoped she’d think it was the cold.
Her sweet scent swirled around him. Without thinking too much about whether he should, he moved closer, and was thrilled when she stayed. “Mostly pertinent stuff for each season,” he said. “December episodes were filmed in October, after the first big snow. The party scenes from tonight will be edited in.”
Lori glanced back at him. “So...a rancher and a TV star.”
“Dad needed something.” Heston nodded but his spine stiffened as hard as the fence post he was leaning on. “Mom had died suddenly not long before.”
“Oh, Heston, I’m truly sorry.”
“Thanks. She was wonderful. Aneurism.” Heston stopped talking for a while. It all hit him again. The blinding grief. Then the meandering freshman year of college. Alone and far from home...the bad decisions, the crimes to his soul, the misdemeanors to his body. But... “She’s in a better place. As for Dad, despite his faith, he had a time of real darkness.”
Her hand grew heavier against his arm. “Darkness. That’s a bad deal.”
“Yep.” He laid his free hand over hers. “It was good, maybe even necessary,” he said. “Him getting involved with something new.” Heston hoped he wasn't babbling, as black regret swamped him. No matter forgiveness. Those memories hurt. He cleared his throat and kicked away the past. He had a beautiful woman at his side, after all. “And then of course, Dad found love again. Elaine’s absolutely great.”
Lori’s gloves moved softly to the fence rail. And he felt the loss like a stab.
“Did you...do you mind, about that? Him getting married again?” She asked with a shy glance.
“Not a bit.” He shook his head. “We kids were all for it. She’s never felt threatened by our mom’s memory. And Elaine’s never tried to be a replacement. Everybody’s comfortable.”
Lori smiled, but just partly. “Crazy how life turns out sometimes.”
Snow brunched underneath their boots. Arm across her shoulders to guide her through a slippery patch, he tingled all the way to the second corral. Found her shivering. “Maybe we go should inside. Somehow hot coffee sounds better than eggnog about now.”
She peeked back at the front door. The roving camera man had gone on to whiter pastures, and she visibly relaxed. “All right. I think I'd like to try Uncle Albert’s concoction.”
Heston was curious about her nerves but wouldn’t pry. He offered his elbow up the steps.
It was a grand porch, planted with big, rustic benches and rockers. The sea of people parted for them, and Heston grabbed a massive horse-shoe doorknob. Pine wreaths in the shape of horses’ heads guarded both sides of the huge double front door that opened to spectacular scene. Lori gasped beside him. A Ponderosa-sized fireplace of river rocks and boulders took up one entire wall and blazed with warmth. And a Christmas tree all but touched the twenty-five foot ceiling.
“Ahhh.” Lori’s eyes brightened just like a kid’s. “Beautiful. Granddad is such a grump these days. I was lucky to manage up a five-footer.” She raised her face to gaze at the top, and Heston looked around for the punch bowl. He poured two doses of eggnog into glass mugs that had moose antlers for handles, and joined her at the fireplace.
Before he could hand her the beverage, another stepbrother appeared through the throng, followed by a roving cameraman.
Scott took Lori in a quick hug. “Merry Christmas. So good to see you. I gotta make sure you see the baby.”
The cameraman whispered something.
Scott shook his head, but somebody behind the cameraman shouted out, “That’s Lori Lazaro. She and Scott were an item once upon a time...”
As if she’d been stun-gunned, Lori stared into the camera for a moment that lasted forever. Her fingers searched the air until they found Heston’s hand, and she held tight like something might sweep her way into drowning. It wasn’t a romantic gesture at all, but Heston felt like her hand belonged there. Then she gave a little smile, waved at the camera with her other hand until Scott pushed the man away.
“She’s not part of the show,” Scott Martin grit. “Come on, Lori. Let's get out of here.”
Lori followed Scott and Heston came along, too, because she still had a tight hold on his hand, and he wasn’t about to let go.
2
“Sorry about that, Lori. I’ll talk to him.”
Scott opened a door down the hall. Lori shoved herself and Heston inside and then let go of his hand. She’d been in the room once or twice, the study where all ranch business was conducted.
“Hey, Heston?” Scott said.
“Uh, we met on the sleigh ride.” Lori’s hitching breath had stopped and Scott Martin leaned in closer.
“It’s OK, Scottie,” she whispered. “I’m still fixing things inside my head.”
“Well, for what it’s worth, Heston’s a good man.” Her former beau leaned close to her ear. “Definitely a guy you can trust.”
Heat brushed her. Something she hadn’t done with Scott. Oh, they’d been important to each other. And as a friend, he certainly could have helped her slay some demons. Most of all, she’d never have hurt him. By disappearing. Shame burned through her again.
What did they always say about Monday morning quarterbacks and all the other clichés that simply meant regret?
“You wanna warm up in here, Lori?” Heston asked, the concern in his eyes as bright as the candles on the mantle. “I’ll go find those eggnogs I set down.”
“Yeah, I’d like that. Thanks.” Her voice sounded calm and normal. Knees shaking, she backed against the couch and slowly relaxed.
“Nah, I’ll find those cups. You kids stay put,” Scott said, and Lori had to grin. He and Heston were probably the same age, pushing thirty. He reached the closed door,
“Oh, Scott, thanks for your text about our project,” she said before he left.
“I like your ideas.” He raised his eyebrows at Heston that clearly sent a “need to know” message.
As Scott waved himself out, Lori glanced quick at Heston. Curiosity was easy to read in his gaze, but she already knew his good manners wouldn’t let him ask.
The lament never quieted in her head. If she’d relied on God...if she’d had confidence in Scott as a boyfriend, as a friend, as a Christian, she’d have had his comfort during her ordeal. And since, they’d patched things up. He’d never steer her wrong. He’d just told her Heston was a good man, a good man to trust, and she believed him.
She stared into the fireplace as though seeing flickering flames for the first time. But did she dare jump off a cliff into the metaphorical arms of a cowboy she didn’t really know?
A man with TV and camera ties? Heston admitted he had to opt in once in a while. No. She stiffened, hoped he didn’t notice. One part of her she didn’t dare divulge to anybody. But, one secret she could share. Not that she put herself in the same class as Emily Dickinson or Harper Lee, but it wasn’t unknown for an author to keep private.
She smiled as Heston helped her from her coat. “I um, I write romance novels—when I’m not at my day job. Scott does my book trailers. The first book in a new series releases next month. We’re getting some promo ready.”
“Wow. That’s awesome.” Heston’s curious forehead relaxed some. He hung her coat on a bent willow rack. “A new book release?” Questions drew trails in his forehead like a road map. “You could get some really awesome publicity tonight.”
Tremors...was he going to suggest...?
Heston’s eyes brightened as he read her mind. “Dad
supports local artists. I bet—”
“No, timing’s off,” she interrupted gently because of course he was right. “I’m just too much of an introvert, I guess. Um, you wanna sit down for a minute? For some reason, my...feet are cold.”
Of course they were, but only metaphorically. Good heavens, had she used the literary term twice in her thoughts? But actually, her feet were cold. Her dressy leather boots hadn’t insulated her much from the stroll to the corrals. Knees weak, she gestured to a massive overstuffed couch behind her, and sank. She wasn’t lying. Just not telling it all. Timing sure wasn’t right.
Heston followed next to her, his warmth wrapping her like a package. The couch cushions had long ago lost their sales-room support, and without meaning to, he slid close to her. And she admitted she liked it. A fire roared in a river rock hearth hung with Christmas stockings.
The moment might have been perfect. Kyle…
“Great fire,” Heston mentioned, casual. And she respected him for not pushing. She pushed Kyle away.
“Yeah.” It’d be monumental in any suburban household but it was dollhouse-size compared to the massive one in the great room. “All the stockings hung with care. There must be twenty of them.” She squinted at the small stitched letters, grateful her voice didn’t tremble. “Apache. Curiosity. Gunsmoke. Tatonka. Peach Cobbler. Joe Montana?”
“The horses.” Heston laughed that wonderful sound again. “They’ll each get carrots and maybe a peppermint on Christmas morning.”
She chuckled back and grabbed onto relaxation. “Of course. I remember some of the guys from past visits. I think I’ll leave off the present right here.” She nodded at the gift bag she’d been carrying. “My grandmother has cross-stitched ornaments for each verse of The Twelve Days of Christmas.”
“I’d love to see that.” His grin lit up his whole face and warmed her through. Oh, they might have known each other forever…Except they hadn’t. “I don’t even know what cross-stitched means.”
He jumped up and placed the present under a small decorated tree in the corner. In ten seconds he was back, and she silently admitted to missing him while he was gone.