The Christmas Room

by Catherine Anderson

  • • •

  Dinner was over and the kitchen was clean in what seemed to Maddie a blink.

  Caleb dried the last skillet and then turned to them. “Let’s take the dogs for a walk,” he said. “It’s, like, still way light out. We’ve got time.”

  “I walked a huge ranch today, son. Can we save it for tomorrow night?”

  Caleb groaned, which made Cam sigh.

  “All right,” Cam said. “I’m in, but no farther than the slough tonight. Deal?”

  Cam quickly laid a fire in the woodstove so that the wall tent would be toasty warm when they returned. Along the river, it grew cold as the sun went down, and of an evening, they liked to sit in here to catch up on each other’s day. Cam had found upholstered swivel rockers and created a comfortable conversation area. Sometimes Caleb did his homework while they chatted. Other nights he went to the prefab cabin that he and his father shared as sleeping quarters to watch TV on Cam’s sixty-inch flat-screen. High-speed Internet had been installed shortly after Maddie had arrived in mid-August.

  As they set off for their walk, Maddie and Cam set a slower pace while Caleb raced ahead with the dogs, Boomer, Bingo, and Bear, all three black-tri Australian shepherds. Maddie’s six cats joined the parade at varying distances. Cam had ordered an eight-by-eight shed to house the felines, and Maddie went out each day to care for them. Coyotes were numerous around their land, so she put her cats inside at night to keep them safe.

  “Oh, how I love it here,” Maddie said.

  “I’m glad you like it, Mom. When I brought you here, I worried that it wouldn’t be your cup of tea. It’s a big change.”

  “It’s gorgeous, and I have no regrets,” Maddie assured him.

  And it truly was gorgeous. The cottonwood and aspen leaves added lighter dollops of green to the verdant slough terrain. To her left, Cam and Caleb had fenced nearly twenty acres for the horses, and the equines were enjoying their newfound freedom. All four of them came running to the barrier to greet them. Maddie and her son stopped to pet them before resuming their pace. She was glad Cam was tired and walking slowly. That allowed her to watch her step and protect her knee. She had no idea what was wrong with it, only that it didn’t trouble her all the time.

  Her arm bumped Cam’s as they ambled along. “Caleb’s right, Mom. You’re getting thin. I just felt your shoulder bone.”

  Maddie forced a laugh. “Bless your heart. But the truth is, I still can’t feel my ribs.”

  He sighed. “I know you want to be a good sport about our move, but you’ll tell me if you aren’t feeling well. Right?”

  Maddie evaded giving a direct answer. “I’m feeling as fit as a fiddle!”

  “Well, I’m glad. And it’ll be much nicer for you once our residences are built.”

  He bent his head, watching his feet as he walked. Normally he threw sticks for the dogs or played around with Caleb, but that evening he seemed to be in a thoughtful mood.

  “What is it, Cam? Did something go wrong during the land showing?”

  His hair lifted in the breeze and shone like shellacked hickory in the fading sunlight. “Not during the showing, but afterward.”

  She studied his profile. He had his father’s chiseled features and generous mouth. “Want to talk about it?”

  A hint of a smile curved his lips. “I was starving on the way home and stopped at the Cowboy Tree for a bite to eat. I met a beautiful young woman while I was there. She asked me to sit at her table, and I really enjoyed chatting with her.” He watched Caleb romping with the dogs. The teen had grown muscular over the summer, filling out his jeans and Western shirt in places he previously hadn’t. “Have you ever met a perfect stranger and started talking as if you’d been friends for years?”

  Maddie nodded. “How do you think I ended up with your dad? So this lady is pretty special, I take it.”

  “I think so. I shared things with her that I’d never blurt out to other people, and she reciprocated. But as intriguing as I found her to be, I can’t see her again.”

  “Why?” Mystified, Maddie sent him a questioning look. “You finally meet someone appealing and put the kibosh on the possibilities without going on a date?”

  “Her name is Kirstin Conacher.”

  Maddie stopped dead in her tracks. Cam slowed to a halt and turned to face her. “You see? That put chocks in front of your wheels, just like it did mine. I know what you’re thinking: that seeing her only once could mean big trouble for me. But I didn’t know who she was until after I sat down with her.”

  “Yes, it could mean trouble,” Maddie agreed. “With a few negative comments about you to key people, Conacher could ruin your reputation across this valley before you get your first sale.”

  “So you’ve heard about what he does to guys who mess with his daughter.” Cam didn’t phrase it as a question.

  “Everyone in this valley has heard about it. I may stay busy with my work, but I do get out sometimes. I go to book club meetings at the Rustlers’ Gulch Library now. I play bingo. I visit the little bookstore and chat with people. Everyone knows we bought the land that borders his, and I’ve been told more than once not to get on his bad side.”

  Cam nodded. “That’s why I told her I couldn’t see her again. She didn’t seem angry, but I could tell she was disappointed.”

  “And?” Maddie prodded.

  “The minute I told her, I wondered if it was a mistake.”

  Maddie huffed out a breath and gazed off through the trees. She wanted so badly for her son to stop putting everyone else first and follow his heart for once. But Sam Conacher could destroy him. “I’ve seen her in town, driving a pickup with the name of her father’s ranch painted on the door. Though I suspect she’s a spoiled brat, she appeared to be friendly with everyone she encountered, so maybe I’m wrong about her. And I have to admit she is lovely.”

  “I thought she’d be spoiled, too. But she’s not. It’s too bad she’s Conacher’s daughter. If she weren’t, I’d be like a bear after honey.”

  A wave of regret washed over Maddie. Was she really going to let Cam put his own life on the back burner again? She was a firm believer that some people were fated to be together. What if Cam passed on the opportunity to get better acquainted with Kirstin and never met another young lady who intrigued him as much?

  Maddie’s income could cover their expenses. Besides, even if Conacher did his worst, Cam could always practice his profession in Idaho, where he also had a license. It would be rough on him to travel back and forth, but he could roll with the punches and eventually recover.

  “You rarely meet a woman and feel this interested.”

  He shrugged. “It’s no big deal. There are other fish in the sea.”

  “Yes, but when are you going to find one that makes you happy?”

  “What are you saying, that I should risk ruining my future in this valley? She seems nice, but dating often comes with promising starts and dismal endings. Not to mention that Conacher would squash me like a bug as the finale. I’ve heard stories that curl my hair. Some young car salesman ended up losing his job for riding with Kirstin when she took a Corvette off the lot for a spin. When Conacher heard about it, he got him fired.”

  “And you’re going to take a pass just because her father’s a jerk.”

  Cam gave Maddie a bewildered look that made her laugh.

  “Think about it, Cam. My income will cover us during a slump, and you can always travel south to sell property. What would your father say if he were here?”

  Cam shoved his hands into his back pockets. “That I’ve got a fabulous chance to be successful here and not to blow it.”

  “Graham McLendon never backed down from anyone,” Maddie reminded him. “Men like Sam Conacher are bullies, and he hated bullies. If he were here right now, he’d tell you to see the lady again, and to hell with her father.
”

  Cam finally smiled. “He would, wouldn’t he? I can almost hear him.” After a moment, he added, “I got her phone number. Maybe we can arrange to meet again somewhere. If so, I’ll be extra careful.”

  “Careful as in careful not to be seen with her?” Maddie hated the thought of that, but she also understood Cam’s sense of obligation to her and his son. “It’s beautiful weather. A long walk and a picnic would be fun. You could walk over the bridge and meet her across the river. That way, your vehicles wouldn’t be seen together.”

  “That’s a great idea.”

  Maddie heard the dogs moving toward them. Both she and her son turned to watch Caleb circle the bounding balls of multicolored fur as he ran. She could only pray that Cam could satisfy his curiosity about Kirstin without crossing swords with her father. People who lived in Rustlers’ Gulch referred to Sam Conacher as an ornery old son of a bitch.

  • • •

  Cam had no real estate appointments the following day, so he texted Kirstin.

  I knew I’d regret not seeing you again. Is there any way you can meet me tomorrow for a walk along the river and a picnic afterward? I’ll bring the food and drink.

  She didn’t text back right away, and Cam sat staring at his phone like an idiot. When it finally hummed a notification tone, he jerked as if he’d been stuck with a pin.

  I can only get away around noon, our lunch hour. I can tell Dad that I’m taking two hours and work late tomorrow night. Where should we meet?

  Cam smiled. As crazy as it was, he felt better now. He sensed that they had a lot in common, and he hated when he liked the first part of a story and never got to find out how it ended.

  • • •

  Just before noon the next morning the farrier came. Kirstin’s father said that he didn’t want a bunch of stuff going on around the horses while they were being reshod. A few of them were still green and got nervous. He gave both Kirstin and Miguel a large chunk of the afternoon off. Kirstin feigned reluctance to be gone for so long, saying she’d planned to do this or that. He waved her away and told her to get her hair cut or something.

  Kirstin couldn’t believe her good luck. She could spend more time with Cam than she’d hoped. She arrived before he did and left her truck where she had parked it the prior afternoon. Then she moved into the cover of the trees to wait for him. Leaning against the rough bark of a ponderosa, she watched the roadside pullout for his vehicle to appear. Instead he arrived on foot, carrying a medium-size cooler in one hand. The blue lid matched the deep color of his eyes.

  Her heart leaped, and excitement coursed through her. Today he wore old jeans, faded with wear, and a denim shirt, sleeves rolled back over his thick forearms, tails tucked in at the waist to reveal his Western belt and shiny buckle. When he reached the forest and caught sight of her, he waved. Sunlight slanted through the tree boughs, dappling his hair and making it gleam one moment, then casting him in shadow the next.

  “Hey!” he called out.

  “Hey, yourself.” She walked to meet him. When they drew close, he flashed her a grin that sent shivers down her spine. What was it about him that made her feel like this? “This was a fabulous suggestion, Cam. It’s a great day for a walk and a picnic.”

  “I’d like to leave this where we’re going to eat.” He lifted the cooler slightly. “You have any ideas?”

  Kirstin knew this side of the riverbank by heart. “Farther downstream, there’s a grassy knoll that would be perfect. It’s a little too close to our ranch proper for comfort, but Dad’s supervising the farrier. I’m pretty sure he won’t go riding and possibly see us.”

  “Sounds perfect.”

  They struck off, walking side by side. The occasional brushes of his sleeve against hers made her acutely aware of him. He moved with an easy grace, as sure-footed on the rocks as she was. Faint hints of warmth emanated from his solid body. She caught the scent of his woodsy cologne and suspected that he’d shaved recently.

  “You’ve got a better view of our camp from here,” he told her. “What do you think?”

  She stopped to study the Hillbilly Village even though she’d done so only yesterday. He described how he had buried a three-hundred-gallon tank at the other side of his mother’s trailer to serve as a makeshift septic tank and regularly filled another tank the same size to supply them with water.

  He pointed out where their first building would go up. “It’ll be a huge workshop. Some might call it a barn, I guess. We’ll have residences at the front—one upstairs, which will be mine and my son’s, and one downstairs for Mom. It’ll be nice, with wood siding and shingled rooflines. I think we’ll be happy there. Later we plan to build a nice home.”

  “What’ll happen with the shop residences afterward?”

  “We have a conservation easement in our riparian area, so the rules are strict to protect the property. But I talked with a conservation agent, and it’ll be okay if we rent them out.”

  “Awesome. It’s always good if a property produces income. Will you farm the land?”

  “Oh, yeah, although I may not do it myself. I’m better off selling real estate. But I’ve been approached by a couple of guys who might grow alfalfa each year for a large percentage of the cuts. That works for me. It won’t cost me a fortune to feed my horses and cows over the winter, and I won’t be neglecting my career.”

  “You have cows?”

  “I sold them before coming here, but I plan to buy more.”

  They reached the grassy knoll and left the cooler while they continued to walk. She hadn’t misjudged him in the bar yesterday. He could walk at a fast clip over rugged terrain without getting winded. Their conversation bounced like a Ping-Pong ball from one topic to another, an easy flow of exchanges that relaxed her. Then he slowed the pace a bit. “You have only two hours. We should probably go back now to eat.”

  Kirstin told him how she’d gotten an unexpected leave of absence for the afternoon. “Dad thinks I’m getting a haircut.”

  “Won’t he notice if you don’t?”

  “I only get the ends trimmed when I go in. He won’t notice.”

  He shot her an irresistible grin.

  When they struck off walking again, it was her turn to point out and identify different parts of the Conacher Ranch, which now lay across the river from them. When he saw the post-and-beam houses and the outbuildings in the distance, he whistled.

  “Wow. That stable is incredible. Not that the homes aren’t. Only I can’t help but think your horses have better digs than we will when our place is finished.”

  She laughed. “You’ll have a great home, all that you need, anyway. I get lost in the ranch manager’s house. It’s too big for one person. I’d rather have a small bungalow.”

  • • •

  Later they sat side by side on the grassy knoll with the cooler in front of them. Cam was glad that he’d decided to see her again. She was absolutely beautiful, and he still had the feeling that she was one of a kind. He knew for certain now that he should make it a point to get better acquainted with her. He liked her down-to-earth view of life. She’d proven herself to be a good walking partner, fit enough to give him a run for his money, yet still feminine. There was so much about her that appealed to him, especially her low-key laugh, which rang with sincere humor and wasn’t loud or obnoxious. He’d dated a gal once who sounded like a horse neighing. Her laughter had seemed forced and had driven him crazy.

  Kirstin complimented him on the picnic offerings, simple fare but homemade. Thick turkey sandwiches with all the trimmings; potato salad made from scratch, a portion of which he would serve to his family that night; a light cucumber salsa; and a cream cheese dip, accompanied by corn tortilla chips. He’d brought chilled white wine and canned soda as well. She chose to have wine, which he poured into red plastic cups.

  “This is fabulous, Cam.”

&nb
sp; She ate as if she were starving, and he liked that about her, too. Women who picked at food and pretended to have no appetite bothered him. He enjoyed cooking, and food, it seemed to him, should be appreciated, not necessarily in large amounts, but with enthusiasm.

  When she tasted his cucumber salsa, she closed her eyes with a blissful expression on her face. “Oh, my God, that’s good. Recipe, please. Sometimes, just for the heck of it, I cook for myself at my place, and I’d love to make that. It would be great as a veggie dip.”

  “I’ll text it to you,” he promised. “Why don’t you cook more often?”

  “My father has a housekeeper who prepares all his meals, so I mostly eat at his place. But I don’t want to end up being a person who can’t put a meal together, so at least once a week I make a nice dinner, cutting down the recipe as much as I can. I do leftovers only twice.” She held up two fingers. “No matter how good something is, I can’t stomach anything for more than three days.”

  “I’m the same way.” Cam studied her profile as she dabbed the corners of her mouth with a section from a paper towel roll. “What kind of stuff do you cook?”

  “I’m clear across the board.” She talked about surfing the Internet for dishes that sounded good. He chuckled when she shared stories about her abysmal failures, his favorite being a homemade bread recipe to which she’d added three times more yeast than needed, resulting in dough overflowing the bowl inside her oven. “What a mess! Now I make sure that I’ve read the amounts correctly.”

  She sobered, fell quiet, and stared at the river. Cam hoped he hadn’t said or done something to offend her. Finally she said, “I feel kind of bad about yesterday, the things I said about my dad. I thought it was important to be honest with you, but now I wonder if I was entirely fair to him.” A flush rode her cheeks. “I shouldn’t talk negatively about my father. He’s a good person at heart, and there are underlying reasons for his behavior that I didn’t mention yesterday.”

  Cam could think of no good reason for a man to hold his daughter hostage at home. “Well, nothing you said about him differed much from things I’d already heard.”