by Terri Farley
“I know you’re busy with your friends,” Dad apologized. “But I was watching you from across the room and you look so pretty…I figured if I wanted to be the first to dance with you in a long fancy dress, I’d better quit wastin’ time.”
Dad swept the crowded reception hall with a glare.
“Guys aren’t exactly waiting in line.” Sam giggled.
“Only because I got here first,” Dad told her.
He swept her into a dance. The slow, sweet song was something she almost recognized. At least her ears recognized it. Sam wasn’t so sure about her feet.
Dad must have noticed her looking toward her high heels.
“You’re doin’ fine, honey,” Dad said. “And you look so grown up and lovely, I just…” Dad’s voice trailed off.
He pressed his cheek to the top of her head. As Dad guided her in smooth steps, friends and relatives passed in a colorful whirl and Sam pressed her hand against Dad’s back for balance. The crisp black cloth of the tuxedo jacket felt so different from Dad’s flannel shirts.
“I’ll be home before you know it,” Dad said, but Sam heard a catch in his voice. The little bow he performed as he left her with Jen was so unlike Dad, Sam almost didn’t notice how hard his jaw was set as he walked away.
Back toward Brynna, Sam thought a little sadly. But then she saw Brynna dab her eyes with a bride’s lace handkerchief. And then Brynna blew Sam a kiss.
“She’ll probably be good, as stepmothers go,” Jen admitted. “At least she knows about horses.”
Suddenly, Sam knew how to cheer Jen up again.
“Callie’s adopting a mustang,” Sam announced.
“Poor horse,” Jen sneered. “She’ll probably have it wearing crystals and love beads instead of a bridle.”
Sam shifted her feet, listening to the rustle of her skirts. She was kind of mad at Jen for being so moody. In fact, she was about to give up on being the world’s most determined best friend, when there was clapping and laughter from the other side of the room.
Sam stood on tiptoe, peering past the guests. “They’re cutting the cake!”
She didn’t let Jen resist. She grabbed her friend’s wrist and tugged her into a jog.
“Excuse me, Mrs. Allen.” Sam smiled in regret as she passed Trudy Allen, who’d recently opened the Blind Faith Mustang Sanctuary. She should have stopped to talk, but this was her last chance at making Jen smile.
Sam towed Jen past friends and neighbors. Some said how nice she looked. But Sam kept moving, even when she sideswiped Jake’s brother, who was six feet tall and solid as a cottonwood tree.
“Sorry, Brian,” Sam apologized as she dragged a protesting Jen across the reception hall, then veered around two little kids and a lady carrying a tray full of dishes. Sam had no intention of slowing down.
Maybe if they were first in line, they’d get huge pieces of Gram’s three-tiered, white-frosted fudge cake. If that didn’t sweeten Jen’s disposition, nothing would.
But Jen’s attitude stayed sour until they hugged good-bye.
“Have fun in Utah,” Sam said.
“I don’t think that’s possible,” Jen answered. “But thanks for being a pal. I hope I didn’t wreck your evening.”
“Of course not,” Sam assured her friend, but by the time Sam started for the parking lot and the serenity of Aunt Sue’s minivan to go home, she was exhausted.
Aunt Sue was already in the driver’s seat and the warning light from the open passenger’s door made Sam walk a little faster, until she heard someone call her name.
“Samantha!”
Sam froze. The parking lot was pretty dark, but she didn’t need to turn around to see who’d called.
Her hair might have dried, but her temper hadn’t cooled, and that low voice could only belong to one person.
She wouldn’t speak to that person even if he was the last human being on the face of the earth. If she were dying of thirst and he had the last cup of water, she wouldn’t ask him for a sip. If she were drowning and he had the only life raft, she wouldn’t shout “ahoy!”
Jake’s boot steps crossed the asphalt parking lot. His hand touched her shoulder. Sam spun around with something like a growl rising in her throat.
“Don’t bite my head off, Brat.” He held both palms out as if warding off an attack. “I just want to talk.”
“I’m not speaking to you.”
“I have a question,” Jake went on, as if he hadn’t heard her. Then he waited for a response. When he didn’t get one, he sighed. “Your hair got dirty…”
Jake hesitated and his cowboy bravado fell away. His boots shifted in shy discomfort as he noticed Aunt Sue watching and eavesdropping from inside the van.
Like it or not, Sam knew she’d have to be a good listener if she wanted to understand what Jake had to say. Around strangers, he used sentences that were so short, they were like code.
Not that she felt sorry for him.
Sam crossed her arms at her waist, and let her head tilt to the side.
“You were just ‘riding along minding your own business,’ you said.” Jake swallowed with such discomfort, Sam heard him.
But she didn’t explain what had happened.
Let him suffer. She’d been willing to relate the details of the stampede before he’d doused her over the horse trough. If he thought she was torturing him now, he was wrong. She hadn’t even started to pay him back.
Jake cracked his knuckles and watched his shiny black boot toe as it rearranged the parking lot gravel.
“D’you get thrown again?” he muttered.
“I got off”—Sam wanted to kick herself for speaking. Jake looked up quickly. She couldn’t see his expression, but she’d bet he was looking all protective and brotherly—“in a hurry,” she said.
“This have to do with that stud horse?” Jake’s tone of voice warned that it had better not.
“Sam?” Aunt Sue called from inside the car. “I’m ready to take off these high heels and have a cup of tea, honey. Can this wait?”
“Sure, Aunt Sue,” Sam made her voice cheery, then added, “after all, it is Christmas Eve.”
Jake didn’t take the hint.
“Brynna told me about the mare,” he said. “Don’t be goin’ out alone, looking for her.”
Sam longed to imitate Jake’s tough-guy tone and tell him she’d do whatever she pleased. Dad wouldn’t be around to ride herd on her, and that meant freedom. There was no way she’d let Jake take Dad’s place.
Wordless, Sam climbed into the minivan. As they drove away, she kept her eyes fixed on the rearview mirror. Jake still stood there alone and it looked like he was slamming his right fist into the palm of his left hand, over and over again.
It was only eight o’clock when they reached River Bend Ranch.
Little white holiday lights blinked around the windows on the two-story ranch house. The horses in the ten-acre pasture were dark shadows racing along the fence. Blaze, the Border collie, yapped six times as he stood on the front porch of the ranch house, keeping watch.
He must have been confused by the day’s commotion, because usually he ran out to inspect strange vehicles. Or maybe Dallas, who’d left the reception early, had just given Blaze dinner and the dog was guarding his food dish.
The first thing Sam heard as she climbed out of the minivan was Ace. His lonely, melodic neigh floated overhead.
“Later, boy,” Sam shouted toward the barn.
Aunt Sue’s high heels crunched and her keys jingled as she came around the front of the van. “Does the horse know what you mean?” she asked.
“That was Ace,” Sam said. “He’s my horse and, well, even if he can’t tell what ‘later’ means, he knows I heard him and returned his hello.”
Sam leaned her head back and stared up at the night sky. Black and strewn with silver stars, it looked exactly the way a Christmas Eve sky should. There were only a few more nights left in a year that had been crowded with adventure. She’d moved fro
m San Francisco to the ranch, and found Blackie, who’d turned from her long-lost colt into a wild white stallion with a band of his own. She’d battled wild horse rustlers, a disreputable rodeo contractor, and an orphaned cougar that thought she was lunch….
Sam rolled her shoulders, vaguely aware that Aunt Sue had opened the back doors of her van. Sam was looking forward to a week of peace and quiet with Aunt Sue. She’d had enough excitement this year. And enough work.
This week, she wouldn’t have to help Gram with the house and meals and Dad wouldn’t be telling her to do more than her share of ranch chores.
“Two entire weeks without homework,” Sam said with a sigh.
Aunt Sue chuckled. “I didn’t bring mine, either. I have a stack of papers to grade at home, but they’ll wait until I return home next week. I decided to make this week a real vacation.”
“Do you need help carrying things?” Sam asked as Aunt Sue tugged her suitcase out of the back of the van.
“Actually, that nice man Dallas left the reception early so that he could bring most of it here for us.”
“Great,” Sam said, though she knew that Dallas had been uncomfortable about being part of the wedding from the beginning. He’d only dressed up and acted as Dad’s best man because he saw it as a test of their friendship. He’d probably jumped at the chance to leave early.
“Can you make the dog step aside?” Aunt Sue asked as Blaze advanced on her, tail wagging.
“He’s friendly,” Sam assured her.
“I’m not afraid of him,” Aunt Sue said. She placed her suitcase between herself and Blaze. “And I don’t want to hurt his feelings, but he’s a dirty dog and this red suit represents two weeks of my salary. Once I change into something more casual, I’ll pet him so he knows I’m not the enemy.”
Sam called Blaze away and considered Aunt Sue’s attitude. Aunt Sue’s only pets were a tank of well-behaved goldfish with long, silken fins. She treated all other animals like, well, animals.
Sam opened the door. Aunt Sue’s presence made her newly aware of the smells of cinnamon, wood smoke, and the fresh pine scent of the Christmas tree. To her, the aromas meant home.
“The door wasn’t locked.”
Aunt Sue froze in the doorway, looking back into the dark ranch yard.
“We probably should lock it, but we don’t,” Sam said. “It’s sort of a Western thing, I guess.”
“A dangerous thing,” Aunt Sue said. She whisked inside and locked the door behind them. “Out here all alone, without a neighbor in sight. You do have a telephone though, I see.”
“And running water,” Sam joked.
“I know you think I’m a hopeless city girl,” Aunt Sue said, “but I have no desire to change. I’m going to leave all the ranch stuff to Dallas, just as your dad said, and spend my time spoiling you.”
Sam tripped over her flounced hem as she hurried to hug Aunt Sue.
“You were so nice to give Dad and Brynna your apartment for their honeymoon,” Sam said into her aunt’s shoulder. “You’re not even related to them, and well, Brynna—I mean—” Sam stopped. She’d had a rough time trying not to see Brynna as her mother’s replacement.
Aunt Sue was Mom’s sister, so how could she not feel the same?
“It’s nothing,” Aunt Sue said. She held Sam off at arm’s length, but kept her hands on her shoulders. “I loved your mother. She loved Wyatt and I love you. It makes a perfect circle, and a great opportunity for us to spend some time together.” Aunt Sue cleared her throat and rubbed her hands together in anticipation. “Now, what shall we do with the rest of our Christmas Eve?”
Chapter Five
Sam and Aunt Sue changed into cozy sweats and slippers.
Aunt Sue was staying in Gram’s room for the week. As they met at the top of the stairs, they both realized they’d been too busy and excited to eat much at the wedding reception.
“I’ve decided calories don’t exist this week,” Aunt Sue said. “So, how does a mountain of popcorn sound? Covered with salt and butter, of course.”
“Wonderful,” Sam answered. “Bet I can beat you to the kitchen.”
Fifteen minutes later, just as they settled on the living room couch with a big wooden bowl of popcorn, Cougar decided to introduce himself.
The brown-striped kitten suddenly appeared on the arm of the couch. He launched himself into Sam’s lap and, instead of settling down, took one look at Aunt Sue, arched his back, and hissed.
At the same time, Blaze jumped to his feet. Eyes bleary with sleep, the Border collie shook his head and began barking.
“What in the world?” Aunt Sue swept the popcorn bowl out of reach of the kitten, but she needn’t have bothered.
“Ow!” Sam yelped as Cougar dug in his tiny claws to steady himself before jumping toward the Christmas tree. “Oh no you don’t!” she shouted, then jumped up and bolted after the kitten.
She must have sounded serious, because Cougar paused in his attempt to climb to the very top of the tree. Sam looked past the shiny ornaments to see Cougar clinging to the trunk, about halfway up. He met her eyes in a frustrated stare, gave a “pity me” mew, then skittered back down the trunk and vanished in the direction of the stairs.
“Blaze, stay,” Sam ordered.
Walking stiff-legged, Blaze crossed to the rug in front of the fireplace. He turned around twice, then flung himself down. He gave a disgusted grunt, as if he couldn’t believe Sam didn’t want his help disciplining the fluffy juvenile delinquent.
“Do you think that’s the end of the circus for the evening?” Aunt Sue placed the popcorn bowl back on the couch between them, but she still held the television’s remote control.
“I’m pretty sure,” Sam said.
After that, they ate each kernel of popcorn, washed it down with cherry Cokes, and watched three cartoon Christmas specials Aunt Sue had copied onto videotape.
It was nearly midnight when Aunt Sue stretched and declared it was time for bed.
“Santa Claus won’t come if you don’t go nighty-night,” she said, smiling.
Sam couldn’t help glancing at the Christmas tree. She missed Dad already. She, Dad, and Brynna had agreed to open their presents after the honeymoon, but she noticed the mound of gifts had grown larger since this morning.
“You want to open one?” Aunt Sue asked.
“No, it’s not that,” Sam said.
She didn’t want to be a demanding kid, but there was something she hadn’t done in two years. She’d been looking forward to her first Christmas Eve back home, and even without Dad, she longed to resume one special tradition. Aunt Sue didn’t have to go with her, if she didn’t feel like it.
“We have this family custom,” Sam said. “Have you ever heard the legend that animals can talk on Christmas Eve?”
“No, I can’t say that I have. But it sounds like something an elementary school teacher like me should know,” Aunt Sue said, encouraging Sam.
“The story goes that on the first Christmas, the baby was born in a barn and laid in a manger—I mean, we have mangers,” Sam gestured toward the barn. “The horses eat out of them. And, anyway, all the animals knew something special had happened. Not just the cows and sheep and the donkey, but wild animals gathered at the barn door to gaze inside. They all kept watch over the baby. And for their”—Sam’s hands spun in the air as she tried to think of the right word—“devotion, they were given the gift of being able to talk to the angels, one night each year.”
“And tonight’s the night,” Aunt Sue said.
“Yeah,” Sam said. “It’s not that I really—”
“I think it sounds lovely,” Aunt Sue said, cutting off Sam’s excuses. “Did Louise do this with you when you were little?”
“Yes. And Dad and Gram, too,” Sam said, but she couldn’t manage to tell even Aunt Sue why the tradition was so important. Instead, she added, “We usually bring carrots for the horses.”
“Lead the way,” Aunt Sue said.
T
hey turned off the porch light. No brightness shone through the bunkhouse windows, so Dallas must be asleep.
Together, Sam and Aunt Sue made their way across the ranch yard, lighting their way with candles. They’d have to blow out the flames before entering the barn, of course, but until then, they moved in small puddles of golden light.
As they were walking, a coyote howled. Aunt Sue gasped, but she didn’t stop.
Starlight turned the sky silver-black and their breaths hung like mist around them. The night felt magical.
“Do we sing?” Aunt Sue asked quietly.
“We could,” Sam answered. “I think sometimes we did.”
Aunt Sue began humming, “Away in a Manger.”
“It seems appropriate,” she said.
“Perfect,” Sam managed a single word, but that was all. Her chest was full of some feeling that brought tears to her eyes.
The candle flame blurred before her, and all at once she thought about the Phantom. Once he’d lived in the warm barn. Sam remembered a Christmas Eve when he’d been a tiny black foal tucked next to his mother, a sorrel mustang named Princess Kitty. Now, he and his herd were on the cold range.
A strangely warm breeze swept across the ranch yard. It snuffed the candles and blew Sam’s hair into her eyes. An owl hooted from the cottonwood tree in the big pasture. She knew the stallion would be safe and he’d take care of his mares and foals. She blinked away her worry and her tears as they walked inside the barn.
Straw rustled and big shapes moved at their approach. Sam clicked on the dim light in the tack room.
For a minute, it seemed there were only two colors in the barn: gold and dark charcoal gray. Sam breathed in the tang of saddle soap, the cereal smell of grain, and the sweet leathery scent of animals.
“That’s Ace,” Sam said, pointing out her horse. “And that’s Sweetheart. She’s an old girl,” Sam said, as the pinto thrust her nose past Ace to sniff in Aunt Sue’s direction. “She’s Gram’s horse, but Mom used to ride her.” Sam’s words caught in her throat for a minute, but Aunt Sue pretended not to notice.