The Cowboy's Christmas Bride

by Patricia Johns

  A half-grown calf lay next to its mother. It struggled to stand again, but couldn’t. This was a much younger calf than most of the others, and Andy reined in his horse.

  “Dakota, do you see that?” Andy asked. He dismounted and gave the horse a pat before heading in the direction of the calf. A couple of cows rose and ambled a few paces off, but the mother stayed immobile, big liquid eyes regarding him.

  She knew he was here to help, and he looked back to see Dakota coming the way he had, a few paces behind him. Andy squatted next to the calf and he could see the problem. It had gotten tangled up in a piece of twine that had bound its back legs together in a painful snarl.

  “Poor thing,” Dakota said as she arrived. “Use your knife. I’ll hold its head.”

  She crouched next to him and took the calf’s head in her hands, crooning softly to it about how everything would be just fine in a minute. Andy pulled out his pocketknife and sawed at the twine until it snapped, freeing the calf from its awkward position. It immediately bounded to its feet.

  “There.” Dakota released the calf and fell back as it lunged out of her grip.

  Andy held out his hand and she put hers in his calloused grip. He boosted her to her feet. But once she was up, he didn’t let go, and she didn’t pull free, either. Maybe he was more comforting than he thought. She paused, her dark eyes glittering in the moonlight, and he flicked off the flashlight, drinking her in. What had she been going through while he’d been away? And why hadn’t she given him that chance? Why hadn’t he tried a little harder to get her attention? He’d been acting like his older brother, stepping back when the woman chose another guy, but Dwight had been a bad choice—worse than he’d ever realized.

  They walked together around the cows and back toward the horses, and he kept her hand in his own tight grip. A cold wind whipped across the plain, the whistle mingling with the river’s rush. He felt her shiver and tugged her closer against his shoulder.

  She complied. When he turned to face her, she didn’t pull back. The wind ruffled her hair around her face and as she looked up at him he found himself thinking all sorts of things he knew were out of bounds. But there was something about those dewy eyes and her parted lips... He took her face in his hands, running his thumbs over her wind-reddened cheeks.

  “I asked you out,” he said softly.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Back when you started dating Dwight, I asked you out,” he said. “And I’d been serious, you know. It wasn’t me flirting or just trying my luck. I’d had to work up my courage to ask you.”

  “I’d already started dating Dwight,” she said, shaking her head. “I wasn’t that kind of girl.”

  No, she hadn’t been. Dakota had been quality, the kind of woman who was loyal and principled. Right and wrong mattered to her, and she stood by her convictions. She’d most definitely not been the two-timing sort.

  “I wish you’d have made an exception,” he said. “Because I’d never have hurt you.”

  She pulled back and he released her. Had he offended her? It was true, though.

  “I didn’t need rescuing, Andy.”

  Dakota had never been the kind of girl who’d admit to needing rescuing. She’d had it all under control—at least the parts she let the rest of them see. She knew what she wanted and she went for it. But back then she’d been faced with a decision on who to let into her life, and she’d made the wrong choice, in his humble opinion. By the time she’d figured that out, he’d been long gone, building a life in the city.

  “Just tell me I would’ve been a better choice.” He caught her eye and held it. She pulled in a breath, and he stepped closer. “I’d be happy with that.”

  She put her hands to his chest. She only came up to his shoulder, but when she tipped her chin back to look him in the face, his lips hovered over hers. Their mingled breath was a wisp of cloud in the cold night air. She didn’t answer him and, instead of questioning it further, he did what he’d been longing to do for several days now and lowered his lips onto hers. She didn’t pull back. He kissed her gently, chastely, then stopped, looking into her face.

  “You were the better choice,” she said softly, a smile coming to her lips.

  “That’s what I’m talking about,” he said with a low laugh, and he gathered her up into his arms. This time when his lips came down onto hers, she leaned into his kiss and her eyes fluttered shut.

  She felt warm and small in his embrace, and as she strained upward toward his kiss, he felt a wave of protective longing. This was what he wanted—this impossible moment right here. He wanted wind and space, cattle and horses, and he wanted this woman in his arms. He wanted her so badly that his whole body ached with it.

  When she pulled back, he reluctantly released her and his arms feeling cold and empty, the dampness of her lips still warm on his mouth.

  “Wow...” she breathed.

  Standing there in the cold Montana wind, the scrub grass rippling in the force of the gale, Dakota’s hair whipping out to the side, her lips plump from his kiss, he had to agree that “wow” pretty much covered it. He’d never been affected by a kiss like that before, feeling it all the way down to his toes.

  “We’d better get back on patrol,” she said quickly, moving toward Barney.

  “Dakota.”

  She turned, her cheeks pink with what might have been embarrassment; he wasn’t sure. He just didn’t want it to end like this, with embarrassment or retreat. That kiss had meant something—maybe something neither of them had a right to, but it had still meant something.

  “You don’t have to be nervous being alone with me.”

  She didn’t need to be jerked around or to have her emotions go through the wringer. She certainly didn’t need to be uncomfortable around him for the rest of the drive. He’d look out for her and make sure that no one gave her any trouble. Beyond that, he wasn’t planning on sticking around Hope, and he knew better than to toy with a good woman. He’d kissed her, and she’d kissed him back, but she didn’t owe him anything.

  “Okay.” She nodded.

  “I won’t do that again.”

  A long, low howl echoed across the plains, but wind whipped the sound into a tangle so that he couldn’t tell the direction it was coming from. The horses danced nervously.

  “We’d better get moving,” she said. “There are wolves out there.”

  He wasn’t sure if she was referring the howling beasts in the distance or the ones closer to home that betrayed her trust, but Dakota was safe with him, even if that meant restraining himself from doing the one thing he wanted most right now—kissing her all over again. As they mounted their horses once more, the first stinging pellets of rain began to fall.

  Chapter Eight

  It rained for the most of the night and when Dakota awoke the next morning to the sound of voices, her body ached from the previous day’s work. She rolled out of her warm sleeping bag, fully dressed, and pulled on her jacket, zipping it up with a shiver. As she unzipped her tent and stepped outside, she sucked in a deep breath of cold morning air.

  That kiss last night had happened—something she’d questioned a couple of times before morning. She and Andy had done the rest of the patrol together and, after rubbing down their horses, Andy had paused with her in the darkness.

  “What’s that old rhyme? If wishes were horses...?” His voice was low and soft in her ear.

  “Beggars would ride.” She finished the line.

  His hand brushed against hers, his fingers moving lightly down hers, ever so close to entwining them together.

  “Ever wish you had a do-over?” he asked quietly. “Ever wish you could go back and make a different choice and see how your life would have turned out?”

  Dakota thought for a moment then slowly shook her head. “I wouldn’t
be the same woman I am today.”

  He nodded slowly. “That’s a good thing, to live without regrets.”

  “What about you?” she whispered.

  “I guess that leaves me a beggar who dreams of riding.” He touched her cheek with the back of his finger. “Good night, Dakota.”

  What had he meant by that? She had a feeling he had a few unfulfilled wishes of his own. Heaven knew she did. But wishes weren’t enough for ambitions or for the heart—and old nursery rhymes strove to teach the children that very truth. Wishes got you nowhere. Hard work, on the other hand, produced something.

  When she’d crawled into her sleeping bag, she’d lain there for a long time, remembering the feel of his lips on hers. She’d never imagined kissing Andy Granger would feel quite so sweet. His first kiss had made her feel safe, and the second had awakened feelings inside her she’d thought were dormant. The memory warmed her in spite of the damp weather.

  But the cocoon of night had evaporated and morning came as it always did. The rain had stopped, but everything was drenched and the sunrise looked more like a silver haze than the actual start of a day. Harley had managed to get a smoky fire started, but it wouldn’t last long if it started raining again. Fog rolled along the scrub grass, the cows looking like shadows in the mist. Dakota’s breath hung in the air and she rubbed her hands together against the chill. She looked around the camp and spotted Andy with the horses under a tarp. He hoisted the saddle up onto Romeo’s back.

  “Morning,” Andy said. “How’d you sleep?”

  “Not great,” she admitted.

  “My fault?” he asked, warm eyes meeting hers.

  She felt the blush rise in her cheeks but before she could answer, he added, “We’re starting early today, before the rain hits us.”

  “Okay,” she said. “I’ll be ready.”

  He turned back to buckling straps and adjusting the saddle. He hadn’t known about Dwight’s violent streak—hadn’t even suspected—and that had been reassuring. He’d made her feel safe last night. Desired. He’d gotten right past all of her bravado and when his lips came down onto hers...that was something she hadn’t allowed a man to do since Dwight. But none of those feelings changed how her family felt about Andy, and her loyalty had to be to them first. Even if Andy wasn’t the jerk they all believed him to be, he was still the reason her father constantly worried about losing his land. They wouldn’t understand; they’d be furious.

  All she was certain of right now was that Andy had kissed her and she’d kissed him back.

  Dakota took down her tent. The other drovers emerged from their own soon after and followed suit. It didn’t take long to load up the pack horses and they ate a quick breakfast of leftover biscuits and hot coffee as they worked. They all stashed what they could to carry with them for later—their next proper meal wouldn’t be until evening. The sooner they got the cattle across the river, the sooner they could head toward home, where they could dry out and get paid.

  And getting paid was the point of this whole trip. For some reason she kept forgetting that. As she mounted her horse again that morning, Andy caught her eye with a small smile before easing his horse forward.

  The kiss had meant something to him, it seemed, and she felt a wave of uncertainty. Feeling anything at all for Andy hadn’t been part of the plan, and she couldn’t help but remember her words to her mother that she could handle Andy Granger. She felt like a fraud. What was it about the open land that changed people?

  The next hour the fog dissipated and the sky brightened, although the clouds hung low and refused to be pushed away. Dakota warmed up the best way she knew how—with work, and they herded the cattle and brought them to the river’s edge. The river had swelled over night from the deluge of rain and it thundered between the banks in a brown, broiling swell. It had obviously rained up in the mountains, as well, and crossing the river again wasn’t going to be as easy as the first time. Dakota looked toward Andy and saw the same expression of concern on his face. She kicked her horse into motion and cantered closer.

  “Will we make it across?” she asked, raising her voice above the whistle of the wind.

  A mist of light rain blew into her face and her horse pranced beneath her, anxious to get moving again.

  “We’ll have to try,” he said and then raised his voice so the other drovers could hear him. “Okay, boys, let’s get rolling!”

  That was all they needed. The drovers started doing what they did best—whooping and shouting and pushing the herd from behind until the first cows were nudged forward and they plunged into the water and started the manic swim for the opposite shore. When the lead few made it to the middle, the rest tumbled into the water after them and for a long while the water was filled with mooing, bawling, thrashing, writhing life.

  When they made it to the other bank, the cattle stumbled and scrambled to get a foothold in the mud before pulling themselves onto the land, being pushed forward from behind. They ran into the opposite field, dripping dirty water, their wide bodies streaked with mud.

  So far the cattle were all making it across safely. There had been a few close calls when some of the large calves had struggled to keep up with their mothers, but they’d made it in the end, and Dakota breathed a sigh of relief. Losing cattle on the drive wasn’t something a drover took pride in, and she felt compassion for the cattle, too. They were gentle creatures and a lost calf or comrade would be hard on them.

  Dave and Finn crossed the river as the herd on their side began to thin out, leading the remaining cattle by example. Elliot, Harley, Andy and Dakota stayed behind, urging the cattle forward and into the water. It was a team effort and the hardest part of the drive by far.

  An hour slid by as Dakota whooped and herded, Barney’s hooves slipping in the mud as she pulled him around to cut off an escaping steer.

  Overhead a peal of thunder boomed and for a moment she heard nothing but ringing in her ears. Only a few cows were left on the bank of the river—cows and the smallest of the calves. As the thunder exploded, the cows turned and stampeded away from the water, heading for the distant tree line, their calves trailing behind.

  Andy wheeled his horse around and Dakota followed his example, hooves pounding as they raced after the fleeing cows. Dakota leaned low as Barney galloped ahead of the cows, then she pulled him around and cut off the leader. Andy did the same for a steer and soon they had the cows stopped and mooing in frustration. There were at least seventy or eighty adult cows and nine of the smallest calves, and as they herded them back toward the river, Andy shot her a grin.

  “You’re really good at this,” he said.

  “Told you.” She laughed. “This is the fun part.”

  “You keep saying.”

  Harley was waiting for them at the river’s edge, his attention focused on the swirling water. When Andy and Dakota arrived behind the protesting cattle, Dakota could see the problem. The banks had collapsed from the hooves of three-hundred-odd cows and the onslaught of water hadn’t abated. The adult cows might make it across the river, but the calves didn’t have a chance. On the other side, the drovers had herded the cattle into a closer unit, waiting for Andy’s orders.

  “Boss!” Finn shouted. “What’s the plan?”

  The plan. Anyone raised in the country knew that there had to be a plan. Nothing worked without one. Wishes and dreams had no place on a ranch. From a distance, grazing cattle and peaceful scenery might seem pastoral and relaxing, but a rancher never relaxed. She was always looking at the next step, preparing for the next season, the next hurdle.

  If wishes were horses...

  In her experience, wishes were a waste of time. If wishes held any kind of clout with local government instead of that blasted Lordship Land Developers... If wishes were dollars... If wishes could hydrate a parched field... If wishes could bring Brody home safely... I
f wishes could change her family’s view of this complicated man in front of her... Wishes didn’t count for much.

  Andy looked over at Dakota, green eyes meeting hers in a silent request. He needed her advice and, right now, she was the one he trusted.

  “The calves won’t make it,” Dakota said, keeping her tone low. “We can either wait it out here or go downstream and see if we can find a shallower spot. It’s your call.”

  Andy nodded, was silent for a beat and then raised his voice. “We’re going to take these downstream and see if we can find some shallower water for the calves. Carry on toward the camp. Lydia and Bob will be there tonight, and if we don’t join you by morning, send someone.”

  “Sure thing!” Finn shouted back. “Good luck!”

  The drovers on the opposite bank turned away and Dakota pushed her hat more firmly onto her head, pulling her chin down to protect her face from the driving drizzle.

  If wishes were horses, Dwight would never have started drinking and she’d be married right now with a few kids of her own. And maybe that would have been good enough, even if Dwight had never aroused the kind of passion inside her that Andy seemed to manage last night. It would have been the life she’d always pictured, and she wouldn’t be facing all these challenges and complications by herself.

  She had her family, and that counted for a whole lot, except her family had no idea she’d kissed the enemy and that she was empathizing with Andy in spite of her best intentions. When it came to Andy, she was one hundred percent alone.

  And, ironically, when it came to life in Hope, so was Andy.

  * * *

  THE SKY CLEARED the farther they rode downstream and by the time midmorning arrived, sunlight beamed down on the sodden countryside, making the drops of water shine like diamonds. Copses of leafless trees lined the banks of the river, some trees leaning heavily toward the water but still miraculously staying rooted as the rush of water ate away at the earthen banks. The cows trotted complacently ahead of them. A blue jay squawked overhead, followed by the twitter of smaller birds. These were the kinds of scenes he was afraid to let himself miss.