A Texas Holiday Reunion

by Shannon Taylor Vannatter

In the great room, Dad swung a golf club in a smooth stroke. “Always gets the kinks out.”

  “Where’s Cheyenne?”

  “In the kitchen with Annette.”

  “I’ll get a hug, then go pack. By the time we get back, y’all will be getting ready to return to San Antonio.”

  “Maybe not.” Dad set the golf club in the corner. “Annette and I are talking about moving to Bandera, too.”

  “What about her teaching job?”

  “She’s a small-town girl and word is there’s a sub position opening up in Bandera next year. One of Annette’s former principals is there now, which makes her a shoo-in.”

  “Y’all would uproot your lives for us?” Colson felt his chest squeeze. His father had always been so supportive. Done his best to make up for Mom leaving.

  “You should know by now, it’s what parents do. I never wanted to move to San Antonio, always planned to retire here.”

  “Why did you move, then?”

  “For you. I knew you’d gotten in with the wrong crowd.” Dad grimaced. “I thought moving would give you a fresh start.”

  “Wow. I never knew that.” Colson sank into a chair.

  “I’ve always loved it here, and I figure I’ve missed out on too much of Cheyenne’s life as it is.”

  “What about the San Antonio store?”

  “We have a great manager there and I’ve been grooming Lonnie and a backup crew for years.” With a hand to his lower back, Dad eased into a chair. “He’s done a stellar job in my absence and I’m ready to cut down on my workload. I’m thinking two or three days a week is enough. Duncan’s thinking the same thing. In fact, before the renewal ceremony, he approached me about tag-teaming it at the Bandera location.”

  “Maybe once Juan returns and I deliver my notice in Kingsville, I could give you both a break until I find a foreman position.”

  “My back will take you up on that.”

  The doorbell rang.

  “I’ll get it.” Cheyenne came barreling out of the kitchen. “Daddy!” She veered toward him, forgetting all about the door.

  His heart pooled as he scooped her up. Resa might be her favorite aunt, and she’d soon meet her new grandparents, but he was still number one in Cheyenne’s book. For now.

  Mac went to open the door, and Colson could hear Resa’s voice in the foyer.

  “Aunt Resa!” Cheyenne scrambled out of his arms.

  “Hey, sweet pea.” Resa knelt and wrapped her up in a big hug. “I have an idea.”

  “What?”

  “Instead of you going to Kingsville with your daddy Sunday, maybe you could stay with me.”

  “Yay!” Cheyenne bounced up and down.

  As Colson’s chest caved in. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

  “Let’s go see how supper’s coming.” Mac held his hand toward the little girl.

  “I wanna stay here with Resa, Daddy.”

  “We’ll talk about it.” His jaw twitched.

  “Come on, munchkin,” Mac pressed. “I bet it’s time to do the garlic toast and I always burn it.”

  “I’ll help you.” Cheyenne clasped his hand.

  As they strolled to the kitchen, Colson caught Resa’s elbow, hustled her toward the door.

  “Hey.” She jerked away from him.

  “Outside. Now,” he barked.

  She stepped out, turned on him as he shut the door behind them. “You don’t order me around.”

  “You may be Cheyenne’s aunt, but you still run things past me.” He jabbed his thumb against his chest. “Are we clear?”

  Her gaze dropped to his shirt collar. “I’m sorry. I should have asked you first. I got excited and it slipped out. I have to stop doing that.”

  He hadn’t expected her to go all contrite. His anger ebbed in the face of her apology.

  “You’re right, I should ask you first on anything concerning Cheyenne.” Resa bit her lip. “So can she? Stay with me, I mean?”

  And he wanted to kiss her. For loving Cheyenne. For being impulsive. For being Resa.

  He took a step back. “My leave doesn’t end until February, so it doesn’t make much sense to drag Cheyenne with me just to make arrangements for my notice, then turn around and come back here. If she wants to stay with you, she can.”

  “Thank you.” Resa gave a little bounce, much like his daughter’s, then closed the gap he’d made and hugged him.

  He held her fast. Close to his heart. Right where he’d always wanted her.

  The door opened. “Supper’s...” Dad fell silent.

  Resa pulled away from Colson, patted his shoulder. “He’s letting Cheyenne stay with me. If she wants.”

  “I’m glad.” His dad’s perceptive gaze jumped from her to Colson. “Wanna stay for some leftover lasagna? You can give Cheyenne the news.”

  “I’ve got plenty of lasagna at my place, but I would like to tell her.” Resa practically bolted inside.

  “Looks like you took my advice,” Dad whispered.

  “What advice?”

  “Working things out with her. Getting her to trust you.”

  “She was just excited because I said yes, so she hugged me.”

  “Uh-huh.” His dad reentered the house.

  Colson followed.

  Could he win her trust? Could he finally gain the affections of the woman he’d loved for six years?

  * * *

  The tangible tug-of-war inside Cheyenne made Colson regret coming as he sat on the tailgate of his truck with her in his lap.

  How could he help make her feel safe and secure enough to ride in the wagon pulled by horses? He’d thought her riding Peaches would make this a nonevent. Until she’d gotten a glimpse of the huge draft horses attached to the wagon lined with multicolored Christmas lights.

  Butch and Dutch patiently waited, their gray coats shining and their black tails swishing.

  “It’s up to you, princess.”

  “Can’t a truck pull the wagon, Daddy? Like when we went to Lights on the River.”

  “I’m afraid not. We can watch the carolers leave from here if you want. Or we can go home.”

  “But I want to go caroling, Daddy. Can we follow in a truck with the windows down?”

  “They only allow horses, buggies and wagons.”

  “Hey, Cheyenne.” Resa strode toward them. “Aren’t the horses awesome? Did you know they’re specifically made for pulling wagons and buggies? It’s in their bloodline. Most horses instinctually try to run from anything you hook them to unless you spend lots of time training them.” She hopped up on the tailgate, settled beside them. “But these horses are born for it. Nothing scares them.”

  “Are they your horses? I haven’t seen them at the ranch.”

  “They belong to a neighbor, but he always lets us use them for the parade and caroling.”

  “Do you know what kind of horses they are?” Colson asked.

  Cheyenne surveyed the huge draft animals. “Blue roan Percherons.”

  “Wow. Very impressive horse knowledge.” Resa high-fived her. “Lots of people mistake them for Clydesdale grays.”

  “But Clydesdales have white feet, not black.”

  “You talk like your daddy’s a horse whisperer.”

  Used to be, anyway. Colson held in a scoff.

  “But they’re just as big as Clydesdales.” Cheyenne’s gaze didn’t budge from the team.

  “They have to be big to pull a wagon that’ll hold eighteen to twenty people. They’re gentle giants.” Resa focused on something in the distance and her face lit up. “Ron, Becca, I’m so glad you came. And so glad you brought Ruby.”

  “Ruby!” Cheyenne almost dived off the tailgate, but Colson caught her.

&nbs
p; “Careful.” He slid down, set her on the sidewalk.

  A middle-aged couple strolled toward them, each holding one of Ruby’s hands.

  “Ruby can’t wait to ride in the wagon. Thanks so much for inviting us,” the woman said.

  “This is Ron and Becca Fletcher, Ruby’s grandparents,” Resa explained. “They work at Chase and Landry’s dude ranch next door. This is Colson Kincaid, our temporary ranch foreman, and his daughter, Cheyenne.”

  “We’ve heard so much about Cheyenne.” Becca smiled.

  “I told Grandma about your French braid.” Ruby inspected Cheyenne’s hair.

  “My daddy did it for me, but Resa showed him how. Maybe she can show your daddy.”

  “But my mommy does my hair.”

  “Oh.” Cheyenne closed up a bit.

  “I’d be happy to show your mom.” Resa hopped down from the tailgate. “It’s time to get in the wagon. Caroling begins in just a minute.”

  “Are you coming?” Ruby held her hand toward Cheyenne. “I’ve never ridden in a wagon before.”

  “What about the horses?” Cheyenne mumbled.

  “I love horses. I ride all the time at the dude ranch and Daddy’s thinking about buying me one. I want a buckskin. Do you know what that is?”

  “Tan-colored hide, black mane and tail. Palominos are my favorite. I rode one named Peaches with Resa once, then rode her several times with my dad.” Cheyenne squeezed his hand. “Come on, Daddy, let’s get in the wagon.”

  Colson’s jaw dropped as she clasped Ruby’s hand with her free one.

  “There’s my little pumpkin.” Nigel knelt in their path to the wagon.

  The little girl stiffened as she neared her grandfather, and clenched Colson’s hand tighter. “Are Mimi and Jasmine coming?”

  “I’m afraid not. They don’t really do wagons.”

  Her grip relaxed. “Can I sit in your lap, Resa, with Ruby and Grandpa beside me?”

  “I think that can be arranged.”

  Which booted Colson right out of the picture.

  He ended up across from Resa and Cheyenne. With a straight-on view of them both. Of the bond getting stronger between them.

  As Cheyenne grew even more attached, his heart longed for Resa.

  The only thing certain in all this craziness was that Resa wanted nothing to do with him. He needed to get through this hayride. And hightail it to Kingsville tomorrow afternoon. Maybe twenty-four hours away from her would clear his head. And help him figure out a way to win her heart. So his would stay intact.

  * * *

  “Colson.” Marshall shook his hand. “You look good.”

  “I feel good.” He sat in the chair across from his boss’s desk. “You were right. I needed a leave.”

  “Ready to come back?”

  “About that... Being near my daughter’s family in Bandera made me realize she needs them.”

  “Honestly, I was afraid you’d end up relocating over this.”

  “I’ll complete my current job in mid-January. After that, I’m willing to give you whatever notice you need. A month, several months. This place has been good to me. I don’t want to leave you in the lurch.”

  “Don’t get me wrong. We miss you around here—especially as a horse whisperer. But Walker is a great foreman. In fact, he asked me the other day if you were coming back and said if you didn’t, he’d like the job on a permanent basis.”

  “That was easy.” Colson adjusted his hat as a dream ended. All his years of longing to be a horse whisperer at the largest ranch in Texas... But the realization of that dream hadn’t fulfilled him. All he needed to make him happy was Cheyenne. And Resa. But if he couldn’t win her heart, her trust, how could he be content being near her?

  “Unless you want to hang around just for fun, there’s no need for you to fulfill any kind of notice. We’re good here. And I’ll give you an excellent reference.”

  “Then I’ll pack the rest of our things, head out in the morning,” he answered.

  “Suit yourself.” Marshall stood, offered his hand. “We’ll miss you around here.”

  “I appreciate everything.” But Colson wouldn’t miss anything. Everything he wanted and needed was in Bandera.

  If only he could convince Resa of that.

  As he exited the office, he punched in her number so he could talk to Cheyenne.

  “Hi, Daddy. Are you coming home yet?”

  “Not till tomorrow, princess. I have to pack all the stuff we left in Kingsville and get it loaded in the trailer.”

  “I miss you, Daddy.”

  “And I miss you, princess.” So much his breathing had been off since he left her. “Are you being good?”

  “Really good. And I’m going to work with Resa tomorrow. When will you be home?”

  “Sometime after noon.”

  “Bring my Barbie house.”

  “I will. I’ll call you again later. I love you.” So much.

  “I love you, too, Daddy.”

  He ended the call, climbed in his truck. Maybe the rush on the DNA test would come through and the custody papers would be ready before Christmas. His best gift ever. If Emmett signed them.

  No if about it. Emmett had to sign them.

  After that, Colson wouldn’t have to worry about Cheyenne calling anyone else Daddy. Unless Emmett changed his mind. But he couldn’t let himself think that way and still function.

  On the way to their cabin, he passed where they’d lived with Felicity. Where she’d died. He’d passed the place daily for two years and it always took the wind out of him. This time, he stopped, parked in the drive. Walker lived there now, but he was busy being the foreman, so no one was home.

  Colson got out of his truck, strode to the back of the house, to the fence. With their argument hot and heavy in his memory, he leaned on the top rail, buried his face in his arms. Felicity’s scream, watching the horse rear up, her crash into the mud. His boots sinking in the muck as he ran to her. Her neck at an odd angle; Cheyenne’s little face pressed against the window...

  “I’m sorry, God. For the mistakes I made with Felicity. For not loving her. For arguing with her. For any part I had in her death. Maybe the horse was safe, but I should have kept her from getting in the saddle. I never meant to hurt her. We were miserable, but I didn’t want her to die. Forgive me. Help me to forgive myself.”

  A burden lifted as he continued to pray. “Help me to do the right thing by Cheyenne. To be the best father I can be to her. Erase any memory she has of that horrible day. Forgive me for hiding the truth from the McCalls.”

  He raised his head. Far out in the pasture, a horse and rider cantered toward him. As they neared, he recognized the buckskin gelding by his gleaming cinnamon-colored coat, black mane and tail, muscled legs. The horse Felicity had ridden that last time.

  The rider was a young girl, maybe ten years old. Walker’s daughter, Marla.

  “Mr. Kincaid, you’re back?” she called.

  “Just packing our things. We’re moving to Bandera permanently.”

  “Oh.” Her expressive face left little to his imagination. She knew her dad had his job, and she was thrilled about it. Then manners kicked in. “Sorry to see you go.”

  “Thanks. You ride Winston often?”

  “Almost every day. He’s a great horse.” She patted the buckskin’s shoulder. “Somebody was hunting nearby the other day when I was riding him. Several shots were close, but Winston never even flinched. Dad says all your horses are the best trained. You gonna go back to horse whispering in Bandera?”

  “Maybe.” And for the first time since Felicity’s death, he could consider it.

  The horse stamped a foot, obviously restless. “See you later.” Marla turned away, let Winston run. Smooth gate, calm and
serene carriage... All he needed was a sober rider.

  Colson wouldn’t miss this place, but he did miss his work with horses. Could he find a job horse whispering in Bandera?

  But even more than he missed working with horses, he missed Cheyenne. And Resa.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “I can’t believe we could play all the rest of the afternoon and you wanted to come back to my office after lunch.” Resa flipped the light switch, ushered Cheyenne inside and shut the door. “On Monday. Most people don’t like to work on Monday. And besides that, it’s almost Christmas Eve.”

  “Let’s design something.” The child went over to Resa’s drafting table.

  “I’m fresh out of orders at the moment. All the Christmas designs are finished products and I’m ahead into the New Year on my work. The week of Christmas I always have a break.”

  “Let’s design something, anyway. Just for fun.”

  “Well, I have been trying to think of something new to put in the store. Got any ideas?”

  “A toy box.”

  “That’s great!” Resa hung their coats on the rack, then pulled up Rustick’s inventory on her computer. “We have several, but we could come up with a new one.”

  Pictures of several log and barnwood chests popped up on her screen.

  “How about something with a lid, like a treasure chest.”

  “Sure. We have to make the lid really lightweight with a special hinge so nobody gets hurt. But we could round it like a treasure chest. Anything else?”

  “Put kids’ names on it.” Cheyenne rolled her eyes. “I can’t ever find anything with my name on it.”

  “Another great idea. You’re really good at this. I can never find anything with my name on it, either.” And it had always frustrated her.

  “And you’ve got deer pictures and horseshoes, but what about a cat or a dog or a ballerina.”

  “You’re right, not all kids like deer or horses. Maybe some sports symbols, too—like a baseball bat, a basketball.” Resa made notes.

  “Or badminton or tennis.”

  “I foresee a job at Rusticks for you in the future. As a designer and in the ideas department.”

  “I wanna be a designer just like you, Aunt Resa.”