***
Callie moved her shoulders to the beat of the music and sang along with the lyrics, asking if you’d ever seen Santa in cowboy boots two-steppin’ around the Christmas tree.
Finn chuckled. “When I was a little boy, Grandpa O’Donnell would dress up as Santa, but he always wore his cowboy boots. He’d grab Grandma after he’d handed out the presents, and they’d dance around the tree. She’d pretend to be embarrassed and say that Grandpa would be mad if she danced with another man even if it was Santa Claus.”
“Tanya Tucker,” Callie said when the next song started.
“‘Christmas to Christmas,’” he said. “This is one of my mama’s favorites.”
Tanya sang about having someone to watch each Christmas come and go with, and then the lyrics continued with “love is always in season.”
“Oh, hush,” he muttered.
“You talkin’ to me?” Callie asked.
“No, ma’am, I’m arguing with myself,” he answered honestly.
“Do that often?”
“More than I like to admit.”
“Well, I do every day. Be careful about answering that voice in your head. Some folks don’t understand us, O’Donnell.”
“So I’m O’Donnell instead of Finn?” he asked.
“We’re complicated. We started out as partners, and we will never be able to get away from that. Then we were friends, and now I’m not sure what we are, but sometimes we’ll always be O’Donnell and Brewster, like when we’re doing our morning workout. Sometimes we’ll be Callie and Finn. And sometimes…” She paused.
“We’ll be darlin’ but never honey?” He grinned.
“You understand perfectly, just like I knew you would.” She nodded.
She’d been right. The feed store had a section of work clothing, and that’s where she headed while he told the clerk what to load up in the big black truck parked right out there in front.
It didn’t take her long to pick out a mustard-colored work coat and carry it back to where Finn had found the small boot section. “Looking at boots always reminds me of Christmas. That’s when I got a new pair and got to relegate my old ones to the utility room for work boots. Unless they were too little, and then Mama polished them up and passed them on down to brothers, sisters, or cousins, in my case, since I was the youngest in the family.”
He picked up a pair that looked about right for Martin and inspected them. “These look like some good sturdy boots that might last through two or three boys.”
“I said no,” she told him.
“A person gives what they want to give for Christmas, and I want Martin to have a pair of nice boots for Sunday. A rancher is known by his boots,” Finn said.
“So is a cowboy.” She made a beeline for the checkout counter.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” He was only a step behind her. “I understand why you don’t want to have a relationship with a cowboy, since that’s what kind of men your sister was drawn to all the time, but what’s wrong with Martin having boots?”
“What if Martin acts just like his father, who didn’t stick around? I won’t encourage him to be a cowboy.”
Finn laid a hand on her shoulder. “It’s not all genetics, Callie. Environment does play a role. And besides, he’s just a little kid. A pair of new boots isn’t going to make him fall in love or get a girl pregnant.”
She laid the coat on the counter, and the cashier rang up the price. Callie handed her the hundred-dollar bill and she counted back less than three dollars in change.
“Don’t bother with a bag. If you’ll remove the price tags, I’ll just wear it out of here,” Callie said.
The lady snipped a couple of strings, tossed the tags in the trash, and handed Callie the sales receipt. “It really is cold out there. You looked about half-frozen when you came in here. Do they not have northers where you come from?”
“Not so much, and my last job just required that I get from car to office or from car to apartment. I didn’t have to be out in it when the north wind decided to get serious,” Callie answered.
“Well, that coat will keep you warm. You need gloves?”
“Not today,” Callie said. The cheapest pair of leather-palm work gloves cost a hell of a lot more than two dollars and fifty-seven cents.
“Yes, she does. Those right there.” Finn pointed at an expensive leather pair as he pulled out his wallet. “And give me a pair of the cheaper ones in a size small. Don’t look at me like that. I’m just protecting my interests. If your fingers get frostbit, I won’t even get any cookin’ out of you. And I’m not taking Martin out in the weather another day without decent gloves.”
“Take the cost of both pairs out of my Friday night paycheck,” she said.
***
“Want a burger or a taco or maybe we could stop by the pizza bar on the way home?” he asked when they were in the truck.
“A big old greasy hamburger sounds great,” she said.
“Remember the ones we used to grill on that little hibachi thing over in Afghanistan?”
“I’d shut my eyes and pretend we were eating them next to a lake in Texas rather than over there in that place,” she said.
“Was it hard for you to fall back into civilian life?” Finn asked.
“Martin was a newborn baby when I joined the army,” she answered.
“That’s not what I asked,” Finn said.
“I’m getting around to the answer,” she told him. “He’d just finished kindergarten when my enlistment was up and he came to live with me. I don’t think I ever had the time to adjust to civilian life. Everything was thrust upon me so fast that I just had to endure, not adjust. I missed the army. I might have considered reenlistment, but you were already gone, and I didn’t want another partner. Besides, Martin needed me.”
“You missed the friends you made. For the first time in your life you had good friends who had your back, Callie. That’s what you really missed.”
She couldn’t tell him that the real reason she wanted to go back into the army was because she missed him and that the reason she didn’t reenlist was because she knew he wouldn’t be there.
“I started getting moody a couple of days ago. I think it’s what my sister had. Do you think I’m bipolar or something, Finn?”
“Hell no! I get the same moods. It’s got something to do with what we did and our jobs over there. Last year I went on a monthlong cattle drive. It was a trial run for that new Chisholm Trail reality show on television.”
“You are part of that O’Donnell family?” She jerked her head around to stare at him. Yes, he did look like the boss on the trail drive. What was his name? It was strange sounding. “Dewar,” she muttered.
“My cousin.” Finn smiled. “By the time it was over, I figured out that I was just hunting for an escape, thinking that it would cure all my nightmares and somewhere out there was the perfect place where there was peace. Took me awhile to realize that the peace has to come from within. It’s not a place and no one else can bring it to you. You got to do that for yourself.”
“And?” she asked.
“I decided to find a ranch that felt right. I looked at dozens, but when I drove down the lane at Salt Draw, it felt right. You know the rest,” he answered. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that when you come up to that fence that separates you from the grass on the other side, you got to look around in your own pasture and realize that what you’ve got is just as good as what’s between the fence and the road or the next ranch over.”
“Then why are you still hanging on to your anger at Lala?” she asked bluntly.
He braked so hard that the truck slid several feet before it came to a halt. He turned around in the seat and stared at her for several seconds before he opened his mouth. “What makes you say that? I’m over her. It’s been more than two years, for God’s sake.”
“You trying to convince me or you, O’Donnell?” she asked.
“That’s not a fair ques
tion.”
She shrugged. “You don’t have to answer it, but you do need to face off with it and get the thing over with. I know you, and there’s a little bit of something holding you back. I think it’s Lala.”
“It’s not easy to know that I was played for a fool,” he finally whispered.
“Guess we’ve both got a lot of baggage, don’t we?” she said.
He eased his foot over to the gas pedal and started back down the curvy, twisting road toward Burnt Boot. “Yes, we do, but O’Donnell and Brewster can take out the enemy together, can’t they?”
A dozen deer stood in the pasture right across the fence. The big buck held his head proud and tall, antlers gathering snow as he watched over his harem.
“Isn’t he majestic?” She turned around so she could keep an eye on him longer.
“Not as majestic as you look in that coat,” he said.
“It’s a work coat, for God’s sake, Finn, and that’s a horrible pickup line.”
“Just stating facts. I always liked you in camo with just those pretty eyes of yours peeking out, but a rancher woman, now that’s just about the sexiest thing I’ve seen you in,” he said.
“Well, then I’ll have to save my money and buy a pair of Carhartt coveralls. I bet you’d really go wild if I got all dressed up in them. But don’t hold your breath. I still don’t like ranchin’.” She laughed.
He chuckled. “Don’t hold me responsible for what might happen if you put on a pair of coveralls. Hot damn, Callie! That would be too much for my poor old heart to take.”
“You mean you might kiss me again?”
“Oh, honey, all you’d need would be a pair of boots and I’d do more than kiss you,” he teased.
“Finn O’Donnell, you are full of bullshit. We were going to stop and get something to eat, weren’t we?”
“I figured we’d get a burger at Polly’s place in Burnt Boot. She makes the biggest, greasiest ones I’ve ever eaten. If we unload the feed first, we could sit up to the bar and eat it, drink a couple of beers, and then pick Martin up at school. And we’re past those deer. I was afraid there would be a stray fawn and you’d want to take him home and name him Bambi. The way you are about strays, you’d want to keep him in the house.”
“Yes, I would. Poor little thing. I bet Angel would just love him,” she said. “I have no doubt you would be the one bringing a stray fawn home, and you’d keep it in your room. So don’t tell me I’m guilty of hauling strays to the farm when you’re just as bad. Now drive on back to the barn, and I’ll help unload this feed. I’ve got a brand-new coat, so I won’t freeze to death. And with two of us working, we can go to Polly’s faster. That burger and beer is sounding better every minute.”
He pulled the truck right into the wide doors of the barn, got out, and tossed the bag with the two pairs of gloves in it at her. “I don’t turn down any kind of help, and if I’d known you were going to offer, I’d have bought you a stocking hat to go with the gloves. And about that deer, you’re probably right.”
“Not a cowboy hat?” she asked.
“What about a hat?”
“If you were going to buy me a stocking hat, why not a cowboy hat?”
“You have to earn it. You have to tell me that you’ve changed your mind about ranchin’ and cowboys to get a cowboy hat, darlin’.”
“I’d like to go to Polly’s for a burger, but Martin needs to learn to ride the bus every day,” she said.
“Bus might have trouble turnin’ around at the end of our lane,” Finn said.
Our lane.
He said our lane, not the lane or my lane.
Chapter 11
A bright red cardinal lit on the windowsill as Callie was cleaning up the kitchen after breakfast. Its feathers were brilliant against the white snow banked up against the glass, and its inquisitive little eye looked like someone had painted a perfect black circle around it.
“Angel, you want to see something pretty?” she whispered.
She reached down and set the cat on the windowsill. Angel made a funny noise down in her throat, something between a purr and a chortle.
“Pretty bird. Pretty bird.” Joe whistled, and the cardinal chirped back at the noise.
Callie glanced over her shoulder to see Joe watching a different cardinal out on the front porch. She smiled and fussed at herself for even thinking that blasted parrot could see through walls.
The ringing of the phone startled her, but Angel didn’t move. Callie picked up the receiver of the old wall phone and leaned against the doorjamb.
“Hello,” she said.
“This is Verdie McElroy. Where is Finn?” Her voice had enough grain in it to suggest that she was a longtime smoker, yet nothing in the house gave testimony to that. No smoke smell, no ashtrays, not even a cigarette butt in the yard.
“He’s out doing chores,” Callie answered.
“Then you are Callie Brewster, right?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“See that chair right there beside you?”
“I do.”
“Well, it’s sittin’ there so folks can sit down to put on their boots or take them off or sit down to visit on the phone. Have a seat and tell me about Salt Draw. I’m so homesick I’ve been crying, and this tough old bitch don’t cry for nothing,” Verdie said.
Callie pulled the chair over a few more inches.
“Cord will reach just fine without you scootin’ it around,” Verdie said.
Callie sat down. “What do you want to know about Salt Draw?”
“Everything. Start with the room where the bunk beds are. That’s where Martin sleeps, ain’t it? Don’t get all worried. Burnt Boot is a little place and y’all are the new kids in town, so you are the topic for gossip until something else comes along. Gladys and Polly and I keep on top of things. We got to filter out what’s shit and what’s real. And after we talk about the ranch, we’ll go on to the feud. I can’t believe that damned Honey and Betsy are dragging you into their shit pile.”
“Rooms first, right?” Callie laughed.
“That’s right. Feud takes second place to my homesickness.”
“Martin loves the bunkhouse room, and he’s been trying to read the books. Some of them are above his pay grade, but he’ll grow into them.”
Verdie sighed. “The ranch needs kids, has for a long time. Now tell me about your bedroom. Do you like that one?”
“I do,” Callie said.
“It was my sister’s room. And mine was the other one on that wing. There were six boys and two girls who grew up in that house. The four youngest boys got the bunk room. Two of the older boys shared the other bedroom, and my sister got the third one. I came along when Mama had given up on having any more kids. The older boys had left home, but the younger ones were content in the bunk room, so when I got old enough to move from the nursery, I got the room with the twin beds. My sister was the next one up the sibling ladder and she was ten years older than me, so it wasn’t long until I was the only one in that part of the house.”
“Was it lonely?” Callie asked.
“Not a single day. I could read all the boy’s books and I had my own, too. Television came into the house when I was a teenager, but it didn’t amount to much there at first. Then I got married and Mama died that same week. Oscar was already working as foreman on the ranch, so we just moved from our little bitty cabin on the back forty in with Daddy. We raised our boys there,” she said.
It didn’t take much prompting to keep Verdie talking. Callie was able to stretch the cord to the kitchen bar and hold the receiver on her shoulder while she made a pot of chili.
“What are you doing? I hear you moving around,” Verdie asked.
“Just putting together Finn’s dinner. We have the big meal of the day in the evening, since Martin is in school,” she answered.
“Why ain’t you out there helpin’ him?”
“I helped with the feeding. Now he’s cleaning the tack room and working on that old gre
en tractor, and I’m doing housework,” she answered.
“And you were his partner when he was over there in the war?” Verdie changed subjects.
“I was.”
“What are you now?”
Callie gasped. “I’m a hired hand.”
“Are you slow-witted or blind?” Verdie asked.
“Pardon me?”
“You heard me. You got to be one of them things. That boy is damn fine-lookin’ and he’s a hardworkin’ cowboy and you are livin’ under the same roof with him. If I was your age, I’d be figuring out a way to get him to bed. God, I miss the ranch.” The sigh would have been audible from Dallas even if they weren’t connected with a phone.
“Next time you’re in Burnt Boot, you are more than welcome to visit Salt Draw. We’ll bust out a pitcher of sweet tea, and I’ll make some cookies. And you can meet Angel and Pistol. Have you met Shotgun? Did Finn bring him along when he signed the papers?”
“Haven’t met any of the animals. I heard that you rescued a cat at the general store. Are you serious about me visiting Salt Draw?” Verdie asked.
“Yes, ma’am, I am serious. I’d love to meet you.”
“Cops! Cuff him, Mary!” Joe held up a foot and hopped along the perch on one leg.
“Who is Mary? And what about cops?” Verdie asked.
“It’s this damned parrot that came with the Chihuahua.” Callie went on to tell Verdie the story of the dog and the bird.
“Little black-and-tan older dog?” Verdie asked.
“Do you know who he belongs to?”
“Belonged to, not belongs. Old man Rawling died about two weeks ago. His family intended to have Pete and Joe put to sleep the day after the funeral, but they both vanished. Those two made their way from a couple a miles away to Salt Draw. You say they’re in the house?”
“Finn brought the dog in and the bird followed him. He threw a squawkin’ fit when we tried to put him in a cage, so we made a roost from an old folding clothes-drying rack,” Callie answered.
“Dickie bought that crazy bird for his wife, Mary, about six years ago. He’d promised her that someday he’d take her to a tropical island, but then she got cancer and he couldn’t take her, so he bought her the bird. She died about a year later,” Verdie told her.
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