Snowbound in Montana
Page 13
Callan didn’t want to put one more problem on her plate. But this sort of news—it had to be told. And she was relieved when Dani reacted with characteristic calm logic.
“Well, we’d all seen a decline in him this past year so I can’t say the news is a shock. I’ll book my flight right away, but Eliot will probably want to come so we won’t arrive until tomorrow.”
Callan took a deep breath. Dani had always had a settling effect on her. Probably because after their mother died it had been second-eldest Dani who had stepped into the role of caregiver to herself and Sage, since Mattie was already married with babies of her own.
“Leave the arrangements until I get there,” Dani continued.
It took a moment for Callan to understand what Dani met, and then she almost moaned. The funeral. That’s what Dani meant by ‘arrangements.’ She definitely did not want to deal with that. “Okay.”
“Good. And don’t worry about food or changing linens on the beds or anything else. Sage, Mattie and I will take care of all of that. You just take care of yourself.”
“You’re talking like I’m some sort of baby.”
“Hardly. But you are the youngest. And you were definitely the closest to Dad.”
Callan couldn’t argue with either point. She’d just turned twenty-six, but she would always be the youngest Carrigan sister. And she knew very well that her other sisters—especially Mattie and Dani—had serious issues with their father. Not just because he hadn’t been the warmest or kindest man. No, they resented him for how he’d treated their mother. But Callan had been so young when her mother died, those memories weren’t as strong for her.
Callan tucked her phone back into her pocket, feeling exhausted. The call to Dani had lasted only ten minutes. That meant it would still be about fifty minutes before Sage arrived. She ought to do something with that time. Despite her promise to Dani, she could at least freshen the linens in her sisters’ old bedrooms. Or take something out of the freezer for dinner.
But she couldn’t get that last glimpse of her father out of her mind.
How could it have happened so fast? One minute her dad was smiling at her. And then he was collapsed on the ground. It seemed so…arbitrary. And unfair. If only…
Callan shook her head, not wanting to let the same thoughts circle round and round her brain but unable to stop them.
Only hard work would distract her. Maybe she should go out and help with the fencing. She was on her way to the mud room to get her work gloves when the damn phone rang.
She paused. Had word gotten out about Hawksley’s death already? She didn’t want to deal with sympathy calls yet. But she had to check in case it was one of her sisters, so she pulled out the phone.
Ren Fletcher’s name popped out at her.
Dad’s lawyer.
She leaned her back against the mudroom wall and hit “talk.”
“Callan here.”
“Hi, Callan, this is Ren Fletcher. I’ve heard the news about your father. I’m terribly sorry.”
“Yeah.” She could only trust herself to utter one syllable without crying.
“I’d like to come by the ranch and talk to you and your family, if you don’t mind. Hawksley left his final instructions with me, as well as his will.”
“Oh.” This was good. This meant they wouldn’t have to make all the choices about the funeral themselves. “My sisters should be here by tomorrow afternoon. So if you could come around four that would work.”
Ren cleared his throat. “Your sisters…yes, that’s good. I’d also like your cousin from St. Paul to be there.”
She was drawing a blank again. And then she remembered. Yes, the cousin from St. Paul. “You mean Aaron McAllister?” Aaron and her dad had spent their boyhood summers together on the Circle C. The cousin was married and had a son of his own, but that was all she recalled. “I’ll have to check Dad’s papers. Hopefully he has their phone number written somewhere.”
“No need, Callan. I’ve already called them.”
“You have?”
“Your father mentioned you and your sisters have never met that side of the family. Part of his instructions to me were that immediately upon his death I was to call Aaron McAllister myself.”
“Okay. Well thanks. Do you think he and his wife will come for the funeral?”
There was a pause at the other end. “Aaron’s wife June had a stroke a few months ago and he’s unable to leave her. Their son is coming, however. His name is Court.”
Court McAllister. She wondered what he was like and how well had he known her father. It was a long way to travel for someone he would have seen only once a year. “With my sisters home we won’t have much room at the house.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that. I’ve booked him a room at the Graff Hotel.”
Pricey place. Her cousin must be well off. “He should only need to stay a few days. I imagine my sisters will want to have the funeral as soon as possible.”
Ren cleared his throat again. “Yes, well, we need to talk about that. I strongly suggest you not plan anything until our meeting tomorrow afternoon.”
Find out what happens next in A Cowgirl’s Christmas
The Carrigans of Circle C
Hawksley Carrigan, owner of the Circle C Ranch south of Marietta, Montana, always wanted a son to carry on the family name. Unfortunately for him, he ended up with four daughters
Book 1: Promise Me, Cowboy
Sage Carrigan’s story
Book 2: Good Together
Mattie Carrigan’s story
Book 3: Close to Her Heart
Dani Carrigan’s story
Book 4: Snowbound in Montana
Eliza Bramble’s story
Book 5: A Cowgirl’s Christmas
Callan Carrigan’s story
About the Author
Hard to imagine a more glamorous life than being an accountant, isn’t it? Still, I gave up the thrills of income tax forms and double entry book-keeping when I sold my first book in 1998. Hard to believe I’ve now written more than 40 (2 of which were nominated for RITAs).
When I’m not writing I love to be out hiking, cross-country skiing or biking. I’m not athletic—I just enjoy the outdoors, especially here in Calgary, where I live, and on Flathead Lake, Montana, where we have a cottage. My partner Mike and I share this in common. We also love to play cribbage and Scrabble. If a glass of wine is on the table, so much the better!
Visit C.J.’s website at CJCarmichael.com
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