A Cowgirl's Christmas

by C. J. Carmichael

  The tracks were clear and sharp, suggesting they hadn’t been made very long ago.

  “Have you had problems with them before?”

  “We lost a calf about five years ago. Nothing since then.”

  “This one looks to be heading up the ridge, too.” Court said.

  “Yeah.” Callan urged her mount forward, but after just ten minutes Montana Sapphire stopped abruptly, letting out a snort and rearing up her head. “Whoa, Sapphire.” Callan leaned forward, stroking her horse’s neck. “What’s the matter? Do you smell something?”

  “Does she usually spook easily?” Court asked.

  “No.”

  A sound like a bugle blaring rang out up ahead, quickly followed by panicked snorting and mooing. Court had never heard anything like it before, but could guess what it was. A panicked cow.

  The mountain lion and had found her prey.

  “Stay here,” he told Callan, as he urged good old Pinstripes into a lope. Whether the snow and wind had messed with Pinstripes sense of smell he didn’t know, but thankfully his horse didn’t spook. Less than a hundred yards later he came to a small clearing where a mother cow and her baldie calf were backed up against a ten-foot rock face.

  Pacing back and forth in front of them, moving closer with each turn, was about a hundred and thirty pounds of adult mountain lion. Court caught his breath. He’d never seen a mountain lion in the wild, and it was a beautiful sight. The animal’s powerful muscles were clearly visible under its sleek coat, a uniform golden color except for the black tips on its ears and tail. Despite its size, it moved quietly and gracefully through the snow, its focus on the calf and how to best separate it from its protective mother.

  Court stared, transfixed. Only when he felt something brush his leg did he realize Callan had regained control of Sapphire and had come up on his right. She had a couple long, thick branches in her hands, and silently she passed him one.

  “What about a gun?” Court asked. He wasn’t into hunting himself, but a rifle right now would sure be handy.

  “No gun. Just stay close,” she hissed at him. “We’ve got to look large and menacing enough to scare her off her prey. At the same time, make sure we leave her an avenue of escape.”

  “Her?”

  “No black spot on her rear,” she explained, voice tight but calm. “We need to scare her off. She’s so intent on her prey she hasn’t even spotted us yet.”

  “Agreed. But how?”

  “Keep a firm hold on Pinstripes.” Callan pulled out an air horn and sounded the alarm. The mountain lion jumped back, spotted them on the edge of the clearing and froze.

  For a split second Court froze, too, transfixed by the golden-brown eyes of the magnificent creature. Then following Callan’s lead he yelled out and waved his stick. Thankfully the horses moved restlessly but didn’t shy away or spook again.

  The mountain lion’s muscles tensed. Court had a moment of panic, thinking she was going to spring on them. Instead she turned and fled into the forest, using the escape route Callan had made sure to leave her.

  “Thank God,” he said. He checked out Callan. Her face had gone white and she was trembling. He reached for her arm and gave it a squeeze. “You are something else.”

  “That was a first for me,” she said, her eyes on the spot in the forest where the mountain lion had disappeared. “I can’t wait to tell—” Abruptly she stopped. Her mouth hardened and she took a deep breath. “We’d better move this pair out of here in case that cat decides to return.”

  “Right,” Court agreed. He tried to put the incident behind him and focus on this—his first opportunity to put his cutting skills to real-life use. But the cow and calf didn’t offer much resistance. They’d obviously been shaken up by the encounter with the mountain lion, too.

  Thirty minutes later he and Callan had pulled together over a dozen stray cattle, fishing them out of depressions in the land and from stands of pines and thickets of shrubs with frozen huckleberries still attached. Finally they topped out at the wire fence marking the western boundary of the Circle C.

  At the same moment the snow stopped and the clouds lightened overhead, not enough to permit direct sunshine but improving the visibility dramatically. Looking straight down the valley, Court could now see hundreds of head of cattle grazing contently. Their rag-tag strays lost no time in moving downhill to join them.

  “Wow.”

  Callan smiled slightly. “Yeah.”

  Court felt he could soak in the glory of that moment for hours, but less than five minutes later they were joined by Derek and Jim who had rounded up another couple dozen head of cattle, and then Sage and Dawson, and Red and Tyler appeared with yet more cattle. Once the strays had reunited with the herd, everyone dismounted and took out the sandwiches and bottles of water they’d packed for lunch. Court was amazed by how ravenous he felt.

  He left it to Callan to share the details of their adventure with the mountain lion, and was amused when he saw that she had a dramatic flair, knowing just when to pause and what details to linger over.

  Sage kept shaking her head. “I don’t believe it. I wish Dad could have seen that.”

  Callan nodded.

  “I’m glad no one was hurt,” Dawson said.

  “Thanks to Callan,” Court had to give the credit where it was due. “She has nerves of steel.”

  Callan shrugged off the praise. “Mountain lions typically go after the weak one in the pack. We had her outnumbered.”

  Court grabbed a second sandwich then went to sit next to her. “I have to admit that cat had me scared as hell, but she was awfully beautiful, wasn’t she?

  “She really was.”

  For a second Callan allowed a small smile to soften her face and Court felt as if he was getting a rare glimpse at the real woman beneath the tough-as-nails exterior.

  After lunch, they got back on their horses and began the long ride home. It was a much different experience from the morning. Court couldn’t believe how incredibly loud the cattle were, with the mothers bawling and mooing at their calves to make sure they weren’t left behind. The older, wiser cattle knew the score and led the way. The rest followed, herd instinct doing most of the job for the wranglers.

  Court was tired and sore by the time they reached the home corral. But the job wasn’t over yet. Once more he got to put his cutting skills to use when it came time to sort off the bulls. The rest of the herd was then led into the southern pasture with its freshly repaired fences.

  Only then did the riders make their way to the horse barn to clean their tack and groom their mounts. Court hung back with Callan, who seemed to be obsessively checking the gate and looking over the herd, as if afraid she had missed something.

  “Everything okay?”

  “Hawksley had a second sense when it came to knowing if he’d brought down the entire herd. He could read the cows and tell if any of them were missing their calves.”

  Court looked over the herd with appreciation for all he had to learn about this business.

  The sun had set by the time Callan was finally satisfied. The others were gone, no doubt inside to enjoy a well-earned roast beef dinner. The smells coming from the ranch house were fantastic and Court felt famished.

  When he finally slid off Pinstripes, his legs wobbled and he had to grab onto the saddle horn to stay upright.

  He thought he heard a snort from Callan but when he turned to look at her she was measuring out rations for the horses, paying him absolutely no mind. He followed her into the tack room, replacing his saddle on the stand next to hers. Once she was done, she removed her hat and ran her fingers through her hair. The dark brown strands fell in waves down to her shoulders.

  She looked tired and dirty, but also in that paradoxical way of hers beautiful and sexy.

  “Why are you staring at me?”

  He’d decided from the start to be honest with her. He wouldn’t change course now. “You know we don’t share a drop of family blood.”

/>   “Yeah. That’s been made pretty clear this week.” She tossed her hat to the side and started unsnapping her red down-filled vest. At the second to last snap, she paused. “You’re still staring.”

  “Because you’re so damn beautiful.”

  Her lovely blue eyes widened. “What did you just say?”

  “I’m attracted to you, Callan. I felt it last night. Even more so today.” He wanted to move closer. To touch her. But he could see real fear in her eyes.

  “Don’t be stupid.”

  “If you’re intending to hurt my feelings, you’re going to have to try harder. Because I know you feel it, too.”

  “I do not.”

  He didn’t argue with her. “It’s a complication. I’ll give you that.”

  “I’ll say.” She had her eyes on him, like she couldn’t trust what his next move would be.

  But Court didn’t have any moves in mind. Just the truth. “You don’t have to worry. This doesn’t change my offer.”

  “Like I care about that.” She took an offensive stance, sticking out her chin and narrowing her eyes.

  “We worked well together today.”

  “Not bad. You can stick on a horse. And you’re not hopeless with the cattle.”

  “Oh, stop. You’re embarrassing me.” He leaned a hand against one of the supporting beams, trying to guess if she was finally softening. Maybe a little? “At least you know now that I won’t make the worst partner in the world.”

  She shook her head. “Let it go. You don’t need me. You’ve got Red and the rest of the guys. You’ll be fine.”

  Crap. She wasn’t giving an inch. “You’re really not going to change your mind?”

  For a second he thought he could see the shadow of doubt cross over her face. But then she was sticking out her chin again.

  She retrieved her hat. “Better get inside before the rest of the team polishes off our share of the meal.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The food smelled wonderful and Callan had been starving thirty minutes ago. As she washed her hands in the sink off the mud-room, however, she found she’d lost her appetite.

  Was Court playing some kind of game with her?

  Plenty of times she’d noticed him watching her today in a very non-business-like way. And what was all that talk about being attracted to her?

  Did he think she was insane enough to believe that crap?

  He must be desperate to get her to stay on the Circle C. Worse, he must think she was desperate, to even consider getting involved with the man who had wormed his way into Hawksley’s will.

  Okay. That last bit wasn’t fair. She didn’t believe Court had done anything to undermine her claim to the Circle C. The will had been a typical Hawksley sexist maneuver. He’d wanted to leave his land to someone with Carrigan blood, and so he’d done it. To hell with the daughters he’d adopted and raised since birth.

  Callan slammed the bathroom door behind her then headed to the kitchen. A buffet had been set up on the island, loaded with an amazing assortment of food from roast beef and creamed horseradish to roasted potatoes and onions and vegetarian lasagne.

  Emma Flanagan gave her a smile. “You’re the last one in, honey. Just like your father used to be. Load up, there’s still plenty of food left over.”

  “I will. Thanks Emma. It smells heavenly in here.”

  Emma gave her a wink. She knew Callan’s little secret. Despite being a rancher’s daughter and a rancher herself, Callan was a vegetarian. Shortly after her mother’s death, she’d decided she didn’t want to eat animals anymore. And so she’d stopped.

  Her father would have considered such an eating preference to be the height of insanity, so she’d never told him and she was sure he never noticed. The two of them had never been in the habit of sitting down at the same time to share a meal. Either he’d take a tray and sit in front of the TV or she’d eat standing up by the sink.

  During larger family gatherings there was too much commotion for anyone to pay too much attention to who ate what.

  Today, Callan was certain, no one but Emma would notice all she’d taken from the buffet was the lasagne, a fresh-made roll and a big scoop of cranberry coleslaw.

  Only she hadn’t counted on Court and his prying eyes.

  “Don’t tell me you’re a vegetarian?” He asked her quietly, after settling in the chair right next to her. “I noticed you avoided the bacon at breakfast. And now, no roast beef?”

  She inched away from him as far as she could. “Don’t be ridiculous. This is just for starters.”

  “Right,” he said, sounding like he meant the exact opposite.

  “Did you have to take the seat next to mine?”

  “Afraid you won’t be strong enough to resist me?”

  She rolled her eyes and tried to focus on someone else’s conversation. Dawson was sitting to her right, across from him were Sage and Savannah. Savannah was full of questions about the day. How many cows had they found in the mountains? How did they make the cows walk back to the ranch? Didn’t the cows get tired?

  They were smart questions, Callan thought, and Sage and Dawson did a good job of patiently answering them.

  Then suddenly Savannah was asking a question of Callan.

  “Why are you bleeding?”

  Callan looked down at her left wrist. She’d noticed a deep scratch when she was washing up. She must have broken the scab. “Must have happened when I broke off those branches to scare away the—” Yikes. Should she say anything about the mountain lion to Savannah? What if the kid ended up having nightmares? Or developing a phobia or something?

  “Here.” Court suddenly pressed a clean tissue against the cut.

  She tried to pull her hand away, but he held tight.

  “You need to apply pressure for a while to stop the bleeding,” he said.

  He was applying pressure alright. The wrong kind. “Thanks. I can handle it.”

  He held up his palms as if to say, hey, I was just trying to help.

  Meanwhile, Savannah was still waiting for her to finish her story.

  “What did you scare away?”

  Callan glanced at Dawson, who gave her a nod of permission. She turned to the little girl. “A mountain lion. It was going after one of the calves, trying to separate it from the mother cow. Court and I scared it away.”

  “Wow. Was the baby calf okay?”

  “Yup. We got there just in time.”

  “Cool.” Savannah turned to her father. “Can I have one more piece of huck pie? Please?”

  “Since you worked so hard helping in the kitchen today, yes, go ahead.”

  “Thanks, Dad!” She jumped out of her seat and ran off to the kitchen.

  Callan grinned at Dawson. “And here I was afraid I was going to traumatize her with that story.”

  “She’s pretty tough, that daughter of mine.”

  Savannah was Dawson’s child from his first, short, disastrous marriage. It had taken Dawson many years to untangle himself from that mess and come to Marietta to win back Sage’s heart. Sage almost hadn’t forgiven him—and for good reason. Dawson hadn’t mentioned he was separated but still married when they first hooked up.

  It had worked out for them, eventually, and Callan was glad. Dawson obviously made Sage very happy. And Sage got along well with Savannah, too, which was lucky because Savannah’s mother wasn’t very reliable.

  They made a great little family. But maybe one day Sage would want a child of her own? Callan had never thought to ask her. But once the idea was in her head, she noticed something else. Most of the adults at the table were drinking either wine or beer. Sage, however, was not.

  Callan looked pointedly at Sage’s water glass, then raised her eyebrows.

  To her delight, Sage started to blush.

  So she was right! Sage was pregnant! She started to say something, but Sage pressed a finger to her lips.

  Dawson had taken in the silent exchange. Now he leaned over to whisper in Callan’s ea
r. “You guessed right, but we want to save the news for a happier time. Maybe Christmas.”

  Callan immediately sobered and nodded. It was strange how she could experience short periods of time when she forgot Hawksley had died and they’d lost the Circle C. It was always such a relief to forget, but then so painful when the reality crashed back in.

  She excused herself from the table, scraped away her leftovers and put her plate in the dishwasher. When she was done, she noticed Court watching her again. Damn it, now he was going to bug her about not eating any roast beef.

  But he surprised her by not saying a word about it. Instead, he contemplated the pies on display for dessert. They were both homemade and beautiful, one studded with candied pecans, the other sprinkled with cinnamon sugar.

  “Pumpkin or huckleberry?” he asked. “This is a very tough question.”

  She stepped ahead of him and helped herself to a slice of each. “Not really.”

  This time when she went back to the table, he didn’t follow. It was a very odd thing. But she sort of missed him.

  After the round-up, Court took a few days to go back to St. Paul. He spent time with his parents, packed up his place and settled his involvement with the accounting firm where he worked. They were sorry to see him leave, and promised he could have his job back when he got tired of being a Montana cowboy.

  Court couldn’t see that happening. But it was good to keep options open.

  When he returned to Marietta, he took a few days to get settled into the foreman’s old cabin. It was perfect for him, with a loft bedroom and a big stone fireplace on the main floor. The kitchen was small but serviceable, and best of all there was a wide west-facing deck, where he could sit and admire the view of the Gallatins. On a clear day he could make out the distant peak of Copper Mountain, to the north.

  The intermittent snow from the day of the round-up had continued for several days and now all the peaks were heavy with snow. But at lower elevations it had melted. The reprieve, Court knew, wouldn’t last long. Now that October had faded into gray, cold November, a blizzard was only a question of time. He just hoped they’d be ready for it on the Circle C.