True-Blue Cowboy Christmas

by Nicole Helm

  Even as Midnight followed the trail back to the stables and the house came into view, the world was gray, but the windows glowed. Not just the front window, but the kitchen and dining room windows. Lights Dad always forgot to flip on.

  Thack was more than glad when his cell went off, because he didn’t like dwelling on all that warmth, all that change.

  Of course, when he dismounted and pulled the phone out of his pocket, any relief was gone. Michaela’s father was calling, which could only mean one thing.

  “Hi, Stan,” Thack greeted him, trying to keep his voice light and even, hoping against hope that this time would be different.

  “Thackery. How are you?”

  “I’m…fine.” Thack led Midnight into the stable with one hand, while he held the phone to his ear with the other. “We’re looking forward to your visit.”

  The silence that stretched out was heavy with so many things. Stan and Marjorie had moved out of Blue Valley only a few months after Michaela died. They’d claimed it was to be close to Michaela’s older brother and his family, who lived in the far more temperate suburbs of Denver.

  But Thack had always felt it was because they hadn’t agreed with Michaela’s decision to wait to take any treatment until Kate was born. Because they’d been angry that he hadn’t pushed Michaela on that score. Angry she’d been pregnant, angry she’d married him, angry that Michaela had sacrificed herself for Kate.

  No matter how often Michaela had told them she didn’t have a choice, that she wouldn’t have even known something was wrong if she hadn’t found out she was pregnant. That her survival would have been even less possible, and she owed it to the life inside her to give her daughter the best chance.

  Thack led Midnight into her stall. The heaviness on his shoulders had been lighter the past few days, but now it settled right back where it belonged.

  “Stan?”

  “I’m sorry, Thackery. Marjorie’s therapist just doesn’t think it’s a good idea. Maybe you two could come—”

  “I can’t leave the ranch.” Which maybe was selfish, but traveling this time of year and leaving Dad alone? It wasn’t an option. “Maybe…”

  “You could send her by herself.”

  “No.”

  “I could fly to Billings and collect her. She wouldn’t have to travel alone.”

  “We’ve made plans for Thanksgiving, Stan. Plans here. Plans we were hoping you would join, and quite honestly, if Marjorie’s therapist doesn’t think she should come here, I’m not sure how comfortable I feel sending Kate your way.”

  Again a long silence, and Thack tried to get Midnight ready to bed one-handed while he waited for Stan’s response.

  “I’m sorry, Thackery. It’s not easy for us.”

  Thack bit back the harsh words that wanted to spill out. He used all his strength and every reminder that Stan was Kate’s grandfather and he didn’t want any more complications between them. “It’s not easy for any of us, Stan.”

  “We’ll discuss Christmas later,” Stan replied, ignoring that, ignoring everything. His words were clipped. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out this time. I’ll be in touch. Good-bye.”

  “Good-bye,” Thack replied, though he was almost certain Stan had hung up immediately.

  Thack sighed and pressed his forehead into Midnight’s flank. Well, so much for lighter and happier feelings as they barreled toward another Christmas with just the three of them.

  Someone cleared their throat, a female someone, and Thack jerked his head off the horse, surprised to find Summer standing at the door of the stables, wringing her hands together.

  “Your father wanted me to come get you for dinner,” she offered into the gray silence.

  “I’m almost done,” Thack managed, hoping his voice didn’t sound as strained as it felt.

  “Is…everything okay?”

  “I’ll survive.” You need to do more than survive. He wanted to, damn but he wanted to. But he didn’t know how to fix the world for Kate, let alone the people she should have in her life.

  “Sometimes it helps to talk,” Summer offered, so quietly he almost thought he might have imagined it. But why would it be a surprise that Summer would say that, offer that? She was always offering things, and he never knew what to do about it.

  Maybe take her up on it?

  “Kate’s grandparents… They were…” Why was he dumping this on Summer? But she stood there with her empathetic hazel eyes and, hell, he might as well tell someone he didn’t have to pretend for. “They were going to come for Thanksgiving, but they canceled.”

  “Oh, that’s a shame. Do you think Kate will be disappointed?”

  “Honestly? I hadn’t told her yet, because this is their pattern. A lot of grand plans to visit then…”

  “Then?”

  “They’re still grieving, I guess you’d call it. Michaela, my, um, late wife, she was their only daughter. They moved to be closer to their son and his kids. That’s easier, I guess you’d say.”

  “Poor Kate.”

  Hearing that eased something inside him that had been clutched tight—a knot he’d been telling himself to loosen for months, maybe years. And yet all it took were those two words from Summer. Poor Kate.

  “Poor you.”

  “Me?” He blinked. On the other hand, he didn’t know what to do with that sentiment. “I wasn’t particularly…close with Stan and Marjorie.”

  “But they’re your child’s grandparents, and I’d think that’s tricky ground to cover when, well, I don’t know all that happened…”

  It was something like an invitation. To tell. To lay it all at her feet, and there was a certain temptation in that. Because Summer was easy to talk to, easy to confide in.

  But he didn’t want that pity, and he didn’t want excuses made for him. No matter how empathetic Summer seemed, no matter how easy it would be, he wanted someone to look at him and not see all the tragedies that made up his past.

  “Give me about five minutes, and then I’ll be in to dinner.” He forced himself to smile, though he knew Summer didn’t buy it.

  But she had listened, and that was some bright spot in this hell of an afternoon.

  Chapter 11

  Summer trudged back to the house along the path she’d made. It was almost six, and she should have left a half hour ago, but…

  She glanced back at the stables. Thack was stepping out of the opening and closing up the door. The wind whipped at his hat and his heavy jacket, but they both stayed firmly in place.

  Classically handsome. He was, and more. Something like a tragic hero, all broody and intense, but heavy with burdens that weren’t particularly fair.

  She knew it was silly to want to lift them from him. Who was she to take on such a task? But it gnawed at her, that want.

  She climbed the stairs, knocking the extra snow off her boots. Though a path to the stables had been cleared earlier, dainty flakes were beginning to swirl down from the sky again.

  She paused at the door, trying to talk herself out of waiting for Thack and failing. After all, Mr. Lane had asked her to come get his son, so it only made sense to return with him.

  Thack walked along the pathway, all certain and sure strides, but he had that air of heavy things holding him down, pushing him down. Summer had thought maybe the load had been lightened in the past few days, but this afternoon Thack seemed firmly in his own burdened world. Sad. Just like Kate had said the other day. Don’t you think you could make him happy?

  It was foolish to want to.

  He walked up the stairs, snow circling around him, oddly reminding Summer of Kate’s glitter snow daydream. Something about the last rays of sun glinting in those fragile flakes.

  Their gazes met for a moment, and Summer wasn’t sure what she was doing or hoping to accomplish. She had no words for him, no advice. All she h
ad was so much empathy it hurt to look at him.

  So, she looked at the door and turned the handle.

  “Summer, I wanted to ask you…”

  She turned back to face him and he looked…perplexed. Uncertain. He took off his hat, hitting it gently against his thigh, not finishing his sentence.

  “Wanted to ask me what?” she prompted when he stood there, eyebrows drawn together, gaze on the western horizon where the sun was nothing but a sliver of gold.

  He blew out a frustrated breath. “Well, first I owe you an apology, for the way I was the first few times we met.”

  “I understand.”

  “You do?”

  “I mean, I would have tried to be more polite if I were you, but I understand you had good intentions.”

  His mouth curved, just the tiniest fraction. “I appreciate that. I think. Regardless, I behaved poorly, no matter how much I worry about Kate’s safety. It was never right to take that out on you.”

  “Well, thank you,” she said warmly. Trying not to be too warm and failing. “But that’s not a question.”

  “Right. Um. I didn’t want to ask you in front of Kate and add any pressure, but she’s been pestering me about you staying for dinner. So, I wanted to let you know, if you wanted to, you’re more than welcome to stay and eat dinner with us.”

  “Yes.”

  He blinked as he turned his green gaze on her. “That was…quick.”

  “I love spending time with Kate, and you’re not always so terrible to be around.” She offered a smile, hoping some teasing might lift something off those tense shoulders.

  He smiled ruefully. “I’m sure I deserve that.”

  “I’m teasing.” She reached out and touched his arm, needing to make some physical gesture or she’d burst. The man needed a hug, some reassurance. She thought maybe he really needed something to go right.

  For him. For Kate. He had taken on this burden because Kate’s grandparents were doing something he couldn’t control, and she…she wanted to help.

  She wanted to give something to ease that burden and… “You could come to Shaw Thanksgiving.”

  The idea snowballed immediately, because it would be so easy to fold the Lanes in, to give them a real holiday. If she could give it to the Shaws, she could give it to the Lanes.

  He opened his mouth, presumably to argue, but she had to get it all out before he shot her down. “I’m doing almost all the cooking, so I can say definitively it won’t be any problem adding the three of you.”

  “The three of us?” he asked, sounding confused.

  “Sure. You, Kate, your father. It… Well, you know, it would feel something like family and celebration, and you wouldn’t have to feel like… I know it’s not the same as having Kate’s grandparents here, but it’d be something.”

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Say yes so I don’t have to badger you until you give in.” She flashed her most convincing smile.

  He exhaled, something she thought might have been close to a laugh. “You should talk to the Shaws before you—”

  “I am a Shaw,” she said resolutely, knowing without a doubt that everyone would be fine with this. Fine because she’d ask them to be. That’s what family did. “I’m doing most of the preparations, so I get to invite people if I want. Just think: no cooking, no cleaning, a festive meal for Kate, and all you have to do is show up.”

  “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why would you… Why are you inviting us?”

  “Because I like you…all… I mean, I like all of you. All three of you.” She closed her eyes for a second, wishing she could stop the embarrassed flush creeping across her skin. Smooth she was not. “Ask Kate, ask your father, and then you can let me know. But I’m going to plan on you being there.” She said it resolutely, trying to ignore the telling flush on her cheeks.

  He stepped forward, and for some reason, Summer sucked in a breath and held it. Some reason that had a lot to do with the insane flutters in her chest. It was just that she could see the color of his eyes so clearly, that vibrant green that seemed so out of place in the dusk of the cold winter night.

  He placed his gloved hand on her coat-covered arm, and the only reason she didn’t squeak was because she was still holding her breath. The touch didn’t have any reason to feel warm or meaningful, not with so many layers between them, but something about the look he gave her made the gesture seem very important.

  “Thank you,” he offered, sounding grave.

  She let the breath out, trying not to step closer even though that’s what she wanted to do. “For what? It’s just an invitation.”

  “Thank you for caring.” He gave her arm a squeeze. A friendly, grateful arm squeeze. That was all. Certainly not something to get all aflutter about.

  Unfortunately, she was very much all aflutter.

  “I want to make it clear, if you need to be alone with Kate…I trust you.” He blinked at that and exhaled loudly, slowly pulling his hand off her arm. There was a frown on his face, but he didn’t take back what he’d said. “Let’s go eat, huh?” he offered, inclining his head toward the door.

  She nodded, not trusting her voice. Dinner with the Lanes. Thanksgiving with the Lanes. Trust. It was friendship, that was all. She’d been so focused on the Shaws that she hadn’t really made any other friends, except Rose.

  It would be nice to have a friend of her own. A relationship that was just hers. Not that it was a relationship per se, just that…

  She rolled her eyes at herself and followed Thack inside.

  * * *

  Thack pulled his truck up the winding drive of the Shaw ranch. Everything in his chest was pulled too tight, and his throat felt like it had closed in on him.

  But Kate bounced in her booster seat in the back, chattering happily about turkey and pie and fairy opinions on pie.

  Which was a lot better than looking at his far-too-smug father. Because no matter how many times Thack explained he was doing this for Kate and to take a little stress off himself from cooking and cleaning up after a meal, Dad just grinned and grinned and grinned.

  Thack parked next to a glossy-looking pickup in front of the Shaws’ detached garage. He couldn’t begin to count the ways this would be awkward, or the ways he felt terrible for not bringing anything, but Summer had been adamant. Summer adamant was a hard thing to fight.

  The Shaw house was shrouded in the dark of early evening. It might have loomed like an impressive-looking shadow if not for the way every window on the front side of the house glowed with light, and the porch light offered a clear pathway to the ramp that led to the front door.

  Thack forced himself out of the truck and opened the back door to collect Kate. She’d already unbuckled herself and was ready to jump down, but she stopped. “Oh, my pictures!” She scrambled around in the backseat for the stack of pictures that she’d insisted on bringing as a present to Summer. She’d also insisted on wearing a completely weather-inappropriate dress and then refused to put leggings underneath.

  He’d argued until they were going to be very nearly late and then finally gave in to Kate’s fashion demands.

  Though a path in the snow had been cleared to the front, Thack insisted on carrying Kate to the porch, much to her wiggling chagrin.

  “Put me down, Daddy,” she whined as he took the stairs.

  Since the porch had also been cleared, he finally obliged. “Next time, wear boots and I won’t have to carry you anywhere, Katie Pie.”

  She harrumphed, and before he could knock on the door, it swung open to Summer and the smells of food and a blast of warmth.

  “Hi,” Summer greeted exuberantly, her arms immediately going around Kate as the girl shot forward. “I’m so glad you could make it with all the extra snow we had this morning. Don’t you look pretty tonight,
Kate.”

  “Wouldn’t miss it,” Dad offered jovially, pushing Thack forward, which meant making him standing far closer to Summer than Thack thought was particularly wise.

  She was like a sunrise. She had a bright-red shirt on and some kind of shawl or sweater thing over it that was all oranges and yellows and fringe. She wore one of her long, swishy skirts in some goldish-red and jewelry everywhere.

  She smiled at him, that all-too-enticing broad curve of red-slicked lips. Then she turned to Kate who was shoving pictures at her.

  “They’re beautiful. I’ll have to see if I have magnets to put them on the fridge,” Summer said, looking at each piece of paper dutifully.

  “What kind of pie do you have?” Kate asked as Summer ushered them through a mudroom and into a living room where the Shaws were gathered.

  Summer leaned down and whispered something in Kate’s ear, and his little girl grinned from ear to ear. Thack would gladly encounter all the awkwardness this evening would entail for just that flash of his daughter’s grin.

  Dad settled in a chair next to Cal in his wheelchair, and Kate pranced behind Summer into the kitchen. Thack was left standing. Odd man out and certainly feeling it.

  Summer popped her head out of the way she’d gone. “Oh, do you need something to drink?”

  “No. No, I’m fine.” Stuttering like an idiot, about as un-fine as a man could be.

  Summer just smiled, everything about her exuding a happy, keyed-up energy. “Sit. Watch football. Dinner will be ready in just a few.”

  Thack forced a paltry smile and took a few halting steps into the living room. He settled himself onto a chair and tried to focus on the TV, on just about anything aside from the awkwardness of being here and knowing these people but most assuredly not being family.

  “How are your fences holding up with all this wind? We’ve been having a hell of a time.” Delia sat on the couch, her hand resting on her stomach, her complexion gray, which seemed odd for a woman he associated with rebellious behavior only possibly eclipsed by that of her sister, Rose, who was sitting next to her looking about as comfortable to be here as Thack felt.