Cowboy Boots for Christmas

by Carolyn Brown

  “And the argument? Do you remember it, too?”

  “Oh, yes.” She nodded. “I really was mad at the army for sending us out on that mission and I was right; the ham was all gone when we got back.”

  “Well, I was right, too. We took out the insurgents who were hell-bent on blowing up that girls’ school. Those kids might not have celebrated Christmas in their world, but at least they woke up the next morning,” he said.

  “If you still remember that hellacious fight, then why did you let me and Martin stay? I’m surprised you didn’t tell Otis to take me to Siberia,” she said.

  “I know you, Callie. You’re a hard worker, and when you give your word, it’s as good as gold. And you saved my life, so it’s my turn to repay.” He grinned.

  She kicked backward and landed a soft blow to his shin. “You saved my hide, too, so don’t give me that shit.”

  “Ouch! If you’d have missed, you could have killed the cat.”

  “I didn’t hurt you, so stop whining,” she said. “I really did try to find you, Finn.”

  “I lost my phone in an airport on the way home. I tried to find you, too, Callie. I figured you’d found some rich preppy guy and had a big wedding, settled down in a mansion, and started a brand-new life.”

  “I thought you’d convinced Lala to give up her lifestyle and move to the States with you at the last minute,” she said. “I’m not a damn bit surprised that she’s a spy or that she picked you out from the whole crew to get involved with.”

  “Why?”

  “She picked out the best-lookin’, hottest soldier on the base,” she answered.

  “You didn’t say that over there.”

  “We were partners and it was frowned upon, and besides, I didn’t have the nerve to break the rules and then Lala was in the picture. I never did like that hussy. I knew she was trouble. I just thought it was a different kind of trouble than it was,” she said.

  “What kind was that?”

  “I figured her for the type who was looking for a free ride to the States, not a spy,” she said.

  Finn leaned his head back on the sofa arm.

  “Don’t you go to sleep in that position, or you’ll have a terrible crick in your neck tomorrow morning,” she warned.

  He slid one eye open and turned his head slightly. “There’s Shotgun at the door. You going to let him in or do I have to run across the cold floor again?”

  “It’s your dog. My cat uses a litter pan,” she said.

  “You are a hard woman, Brewster.”

  “You knew that when you gave me a job.” She laughed softly.

  His Callie was soft and gentle, but she had sass and a bite. Not many people even got to see the soft side of her; more were subjected to the sassy woman who had had to stand her ground in a man’s world.

  ***

  Callie heard Martin moan. She quickly threw the quilt back, picked up the cat, and padded barefoot down the hallway.

  “Everything all right?” Finn followed her, his arm around her waist.

  “Shhh. Sometimes he has bad dreams about the shooting. The man chased him down the alley, threatening to kill him.”

  Shotgun ambled down the hallway and crawled up on the bunk at Martin’s feet. His tail thumped a couple of times and then he curled it around his body and went to sleep. Callie set the kitten down in the hallway, expecting it to follow her up the hall or maybe even limp into her room, but it sniffed the air, then made its way to the bunk bed. It meowed pitifully until she picked it up and set it on the bed. It curled up in the curve of Shotgun’s belly.

  “Thank goodness, he’s decided to sleep on a bottom bunk. The kitten couldn’t get down from that top one,” Finn said.

  “The top one is his tree house. He told me so right after he said his prayers,” Callie said.

  Finn dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “Well, I’ve walked you to your tent, Brewster. Maybe we can get a good night’s sleep without the bombs and the gunfire waking us up. Good night.”

  “Good night, Finn. See you in the morning.”

  “Hey, speaking of the service, I don’t know about your fitness program, but I’ve picked out a five-mile path around the ranch for a run and moved my gym equipment into the old bunkhouse. It’s not very warm, but then who wants heat when they’re sweating? And I target practice once a week, not any particular day, but at least once a week.”

  “We work out every day?” she asked.

  “Every weekday. I rest on Saturday and Sunday,” he answered.

  “What time?” she asked.

  “Right after chores. Usually around eight.”

  “Sounds good to me. Martin will be in school by that time. Shootin’ range?”

  “Got an area picked out. You been keepin’ up with practice?”

  “Once a month, but it’s been indoors.”

  “Looks like you might need some retraining. We’ll start Monday after we get Martin enrolled in school,” he said.

  Chapter 4

  The little church was packed when Callie, Finn, and Martin slipped inside. Gladys stood up and motioned for them to join her about midway down the middle section of seats. Callie could feel eyes assessing her, and then lo and behold if Martin didn’t rush in ahead of her to plop down beside Gladys, leaving her to sit beside Finn in a space barely big enough for one person. It was a tight scrunch, and his entire left side was pressed against her right one. She could feel the texture of his jeans on her leg, the stiffness of his freshly ironed shirt through the fabric of her shirt.

  Gladys leaned over the top of Martin’s head and whispered, “Glad to see you. It’s not always this crowded, but today is the beginning of the Christmas programs. Each Sunday is a special event. Whole community turns out in December. Come January though they won’t care much for plain old preachin’ every Sunday, and it will thin out a lot. That’s Polly up there at the piano. Polly Cleary. We married brothers. Me and her and Verdie all grew up together here in Burnt Boot. I probably told you that, but when you get nearly eighty, you tend to repeat things.”

  “Polly is the one who owns the bar?” Callie asked.

  Gladys nodded. “She was playin’ the piano before her husband died and she had to take on the runnin’ of the bar. Ain’t nobody in town brave enough to tell Polly that she can’t have a bar and play in church.”

  Finn’s hand dropped from the back of the pew to rest on her upper arm. Did he not realize that in small towns and small churches that would brand him as a taken cowboy? Or maybe he did and he was sending a false message for the women to leave him alone. She glanced up to find him staring right into her eyes. He bent low to whisper, “Kind of a snug fit, ain’t it?”

  “You sure you want to send this message? There are some good-lookin’ women in the church this morning.”

  “I’m not sending anything. I’m just trying to make some room for you so you don’t wrinkle up that cute little skirt,” he said.

  The preacher pushed himself off the short deacon’s bench, cleared his throat, and said, “Good morning and merry Christmas.”

  His deep, booming voice startled Callie. It didn’t match the short, round, balding man wearing wire-rimmed glasses. His baby face looked like it could grow better pimples than whiskers, and his voice should be high and squeaky.

  “Is he Brennan or Gallagher?” Callie whispered to Gladys.

  “Neutral, but church is neutral, even if it is like the cold war,” she answered.

  The preacher went on, “We have four Sundays between now and Christmas. To keep us all reminded of the spirit of the holidays, we will have a special program each week, and tonight instead of the evening services we will be participating in the traditional Christmas tree decoration. The Brennan family will put up a tree in front of the general store, and the Gallaghers will put theirs up in front of the school. Refreshments will be served at both places, and everyone is invited to both or either. Today we are going to present the nativity in a musical worship service.”
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br />   His words were a little fuzzy in Callie’s ears. She couldn’t think of anything but Finn’s hand and the effect it had on her. No wonder they didn’t want fraternization between sniper and spotter. She couldn’t keep her mind on a simple church service with him touching her. They’d have blown every single mission if they’d been in a relationship over there in the sand.

  Men began bringing in the props for a nativity scene as the preacher told the story. When the stage was set, he sat down and the choir behind him sang “What Child Is This?” A young couple, portraying Mary and Joseph, carried a baby from behind the choir. It wasn’t a doll, but a real live child wrapped in blue blankets who cooed as they gently laid him in the manger of hay.

  “Is that a real kid?” Callie whispered.

  Gladys leaned toward her and said, “Yes, it is. This year the Gallaghers are presenting this service.”

  “Do they switch off with the Brennans?”

  Gladys nodded. “That’s right, and they never share it.”

  When the song ended, the preacher told about the wise men, the choir sang the traditional “We Three Kings” Christmas song, and three wise men wearing robes and crowns brought their gifts to put before the baby in the manger. “Silent Night” brought out the shepherds, and then a little boy did a good job of keeping time on his drum set when the choir broke into “The Little Drummer Boy.”

  “You reckon that boy will be in my school?” Martin asked.

  She nodded. “He looks to be about your age.”

  “Keith Gallagher,” Gladys said softly.

  The service ended with the preacher raising his hands for everyone to stand. “We’ll close our program with ‘Do You Hear What I Hear.’ It’s on a special sheet right inside the hymnals. Don’t hold back. Sing loud enough that even the courts of heaven can hear your voices.”

  Gladys stooped enough that Martin could share her music. Finn moved even closer to Callie, and they each held a side of the paper to keep it steady.

  “Do you see what I see, a star, a star, dancing in the night,” Callie sang, and she could imagine stars very easily while standing there with one of Finn’s arms around her shoulders and sharing a music sheet with him.

  “Do you hear what I hear, ringing in the sky,” Finn’s deep voice rang out, sending a whole different kind of shiver up her spine. He could easily have been a star in the music industry with a voice like that.

  “He will bring us goodness and light,” Martin’s thin voice blended with the whole crowd. The way he was smiling as he sang, it was plain that he was happier than he’d ever been.

  The last notes of the song drifted away, and quietness prevailed for a few seconds before everyone started talking at once. The preacher was already busy shaking hands with the people as they filed out. Those who’d played a part in the program disappeared through an opening behind the choir where they’d most likely shed their costumes.

  A couple of men from the Gallagher side of the church cornered Finn when he stepped out into the aisle and were talking to him about Salt Draw and telling him that if he decided to sell they’d sure be interested in buying him out.

  Gladys reached across Martin and touched Callie on the shoulder. “Don’t think because Finn shared the song paper with you that they won’t come after him.”

  “What?” Callie asked.

  “The Brennan women and the Gallagher women won’t let you stand in their way, darlin’. They’ll be coming after Finn O’Donnell, probably starting real soon. Just thought you ought to be ready for the feud to get hot,” Gladys said.

  “Why?” Callie asked.

  Gladys’s old eyes sparkled. “He’s new blood, and them dark, smolderin’ looks and them blue eyes sure make it even better. He’s a damn fine rancher, and they’ve already spit on their knuckles and started taking bets as to which clan will wind up with him. Betsy Gallagher is braggin’ that she could have him cornered by Valentine’s, but she’s going to have to fight her way past Honey Brennan to get to him. Betsy is a scrapper, but Honey is meaner than a junkyard dog.”

  “Aren’t there any other men in Burnt Boot?” Callie asked.

  “Oh yeah, but he’s a prize, and believe me, Salt Draw is a bigger one. They couldn’t buy it from Verdie, but one of them could claim it through marriage.”

  “Just how rough will it get?” Callie said.

  “Oh, darlin’, it’s like that fightin’ stuff they do in cages. No rules and no whinin’. There’s a feel in the air when the feud is gettin’ fueled up for another round. It’s been a while since it got real stinky but it’s comin’. They’re both just itchin’ for the other side to start something. I forgot to ask, what happened to that kitten?” Gladys said.

  “The kitten is Shotgun’s new buddy. Its name is Angel.”

  She nodded. “It’s a very good name for a Christmas girl cat.”

  Finn threw an arm loosely around Callie’s shoulder and drew her close to his side. “I’d like you to meet Callie, my number one hand at the ranch. Declan has invited us to the River Bend Ranch for dinner, but I told him you have dinner in the oven waiting for us.”

  The cowboy tipped his hat toward her. His dark sapphire-blue eyes scanned her from her black high heels to a red skirt that just skimmed her knees, up past the black shirt and to her dark hair. “I’m right pleased to make your acquaintance. Y’all are welcome at River Bend Ranch any time. We’d be glad to take Martin into our private school if you want to enroll him there.”

  “Thank you, but I reckon he’ll do just fine in the public school,” Callie said.

  Sandy hair, broad shoulders, a silver belt buckle that said he’d done some bull riding, and that full-body scan should have jump-started her hormones into overdrive, but the only person in the church who had an effect on Callie was standing beside her, their hands brushing with every step.

  Martin tugged at her hand. “Can I go outside and wait? I might get to talk to that boy who had the drum.”

  “Sure you can. Just don’t leave the church parking lot. We’ll be out in a minute,” Callie said.

  A red-haired woman came from the other side of the church, weaving her way through people. She made it to the end about the same time that Callie and Finn took a couple of steps forward. She ignored Callie and smiled up at Finn. “Hello. I’m Betsy Gallagher. Wanted to introduce myself and tell you to drop by Wild Horse Ranch sometime to visit.”

  A tall, dark-haired woman with crystal-clear blue eyes pushed her way between Finn and Betsy. “I’m Honey Brennan, and you can ride with me over to River Bend to dinner. I’ll see to it that you get home this evening by chore time.”

  Betsy tapped her on the shoulder and said, “You’re a day late and a dollar short, Honey. He’s going to Wild Horse today.”

  Honey’s hands turned into fists and her eyes were barely slits. Betsy tilted her chin up, and her body language said that she dared the woman to take the first punch.

  “Ladies, this is church,” Gladys said. “Remember the rules.”

  “You’d better not cross me outside this place,” Honey said.

  “You’d do well to stay on your own shit farm and keep away from me,” Betsy hissed.

  “You’ll pay for saying that about River Bend.” Honey bowed up to her.

  “Get out your big-girl panties and bring it on. I could take your sorry ass with one hand tied behind my back and a blindfold over my eyes,” Betsy said.

  “We’ll see about that.” Honey whipped around and marched out of the church.

  Betsy laughed. “She’s all bitch and no power. Don’t pay no attention to her. That boy belong to you?” Betsy asked.

  “He’s my nephew,” Callie answered.

  “We’ve got a private school over on Wild Horse. We’ll be glad to have him. Just bring him on over there and we’ll get him enrolled in the morning.”

  “Thank you, but he’s going to public school.”

  “What grade is he in?”

  “Third.”

  “You�
��ll be sorry. The third-grade teacher is old and outdated. She should have retired ten years ago, and the classes are so small that he’ll have to be in her room.”

  “Small classes are a blessing, and older teachers are pretty wise,” Callie said.

  “Your loss.” Betsy shrugged and looked back up at Finn. “I’ll be over tomorrow morning with a pie, Finn. You got any particular kind that you like best? I’m hell on wheels when it comes to baking, and apple pie is my specialty.”

  “Nothing comes to mind,” Finn said.

  “You get the coffee ready, and I’ll be there in the middle of the morning with a pie right out of the oven. And if you change your mind about that kid coming to Wild Horse school, just call the ranch number and let Granny know,” Betsy said and moved away into a sea of people.

  “Did that just happen?” Finn drew Callie closer to his side.

  “Looks like that bit about protecting you might come into play pretty quick.” Callie laughed nervously. “Kind of feels like we’re back in the war between the feuding families over in Afghanistan, doesn’t it?”

  “I could work with that scenario better than this one,” Finn said.

  “Girl, you ain’t big enough to protect him if they go to war over him,” Gladys said.

  “We’re not getting into this feud, Gladys,” Finn said sternly. “We’ll keep to ourselves over on Salt Draw, and they can do whatever the hell it is that feuding families do.”

  “Good luck with that.” Gladys chuckled.

  ***

  Finn had tried his damnedest to pay attention to the Christmas program, but it hadn’t been easy. The tension surrounding him felt like the stillness right before a tornado drops out of the sky and rips apart everything from outhouse to hog sheds. It partly came from sitting in church between two families who’d like to shoot each other if only the law would make homicide legal. But the other part came from within his heart. He couldn’t keep his hands off Callie, and he was a grown man, not a sophomore in high school. He knew her well enough to know that she wouldn’t take to smothering. She’d always needed her space, and yet, even now his hand was on the small of her back. This new chemistry between them was hotter than July in Texas, and he flat-out liked the way it felt.