The Cowboy's Christmas Lullaby

by Stella Bagwell

  “So would I. But we’re mature adults. We’ve both been married. If things aren’t working out with us, I think we have enough sense to end things long before one of us ends up with a broken heart. Don’t you?”

  She hardly looked convinced, and for a moment Denver thought she was going to tell him to get lost. Instead, she stepped forward and rested her palms against the middle of his chest. Her nearness had every cell in his body screaming to pull her even closer, to kiss her lips and throat, to wrap his fingers around her red hair and hold her head fast to his.

  “No. I don’t believe any of that,” she answered. “But I’m going to pretend that I do. Because the idea of never seeing you again is—well, very unacceptable to me.”

  If Denver was a smart man, he’d be running backward right about now. And he wouldn’t stop running until he was out of the house and away from the sight of her. At the very least, he should be flooded with fear. Instead, he was overwhelmed with happy excitement.

  “I’m glad, Marcella. I like you and your sons very much. And it’s been a long, long time since I’ve had a connection with a woman. One that makes me feel good.”

  “I’m glad, too.” The soft smile tilting the corners of her lips turned impish. “So now that you’ve decided to stay, let’s go to the kitchen. I’ll make us some coffee while we clean up the rest of the dinner mess.”

  “Sounds good.”

  She curled her hand around his, and as they started to the kitchen, Denver wondered if he’d just made the best decision of his life, or become the biggest fool in the state of Nevada.

  * * *

  “Exactly who is this cowboy who’s put these stars in your eyes?”

  The question came from Marcella’s mother, Saundra. At fifty-three, she was still youthful-looking with strawberry blond hair that brushed the tops of her shoulders and blue eyes similar to Marcella’s. Careful attention to her diet maintained a slim figure, while equal dedication to skin care had kept most of the wrinkles at bay. But Saundra Benson’s appealing surface hid a very contrary demeanor.

  Ignoring the tinge of sarcasm in her mother’s voice, Marcella sat down on the side of the bed and watched her pull a clean uniform from the closet. The thick knit dress of burgundy and pink could never pass for attractive and Saundra hated it, but so far she hadn’t managed to get the restaurant to change the uniform just to please her.

  Sighing, Marcella said, “Denver is more than a cowboy, Mom. He’s a ramrod. He oversees the whole cow/calf operation on the Silver Horn. In case you didn’t know, that’s a huge ranch. The biggest in Nevada.”

  Saundra sat down on a dressing stool and began to pull on a pair of panty hose. “That’s nice, dear. But you don’t know anything about cowboys. They’re coarse and uneducated. Most of them hardly have good table manners. Why would you possibly want to associate yourself with a man of that caliber?”

  And why would you want to go out with a cheap tire salesman who uses bad grammar and wears garish ties? Marcella wanted to ask. Biting back the tart question, she said, “Denver isn’t like anything you’re describing. And how would you know about cowboys, anyway?”

  With a mocking little laugh, Saundra stood and adjusted the panty hose at her waist. “Honey, I ought to know about them. I serve them every day. They either mumble or talk obnoxiously loud. Now, if you’re actually wanting to find a good man, Marcella, I have several I’ve been keeping my eye on for you. The main one being a loan officer at Nevada Bank and Trust. He’s very clean-cut and always wears three-piece suits. Nice ones. And he eats the same thing every day for lunch. Grilled cheese on rye. What could you possibly have against that?”

  Marcella didn’t have time for her mother’s nonsense. Denver would be picking her up at seven this evening after she finished a split shift at the hospital. She needed to make arrangements for a babysitter before she left for work. “Sounds dangerous. I might die of excitement if I went out with him.”

  Saundra shot her a droll look. “All right, smarty, I’m sure you’d like cleaning cow manure off your heels better.”

  “Actually, it would be more interesting.” She glanced at her watch. “I have to go, Mom. I need to be at the hospital in thirty minutes. Look, if you’d rather not keep Harry and Peter tonight, I can make other arrangements. Geena is always wanting the boys to come over and stay with her and Vince and baby Emma.”

  Saundra tugged the knit uniform over her head before she turned a frown on Marcella. “Geena has enough on her plate with taking care of little Emma Rose and new baby George. I’ll watch my grandsons. Will they be staying overnight?”

  Marcella walked to the door of her mother’s bedroom. “I don’t plan on being out that late, but I’m sure the boys are expecting to sleep over. You know how much they like having your French toast for breakfast.”

  “Fine,” she said. “At least I won’t be spending my Saturday night alone.”

  Marcella impatiently shook her head. “Mother, you’re always trying to find me a man. You’re still young and attractive. Why don’t you put all that effort into finding someone for yourself? And I’m not talking about just for one or two dates. I mean someone to spend the rest of your life with.”

  Sighing, Saundra stood in front of the dresser mirror and adjusted the uniform until it fell to a spot just above her knees. “You know me, honey. I can attract a man, but I can’t keep one.”

  “And we both know why.”

  Saundra grimaced at her own image. “Listen, Marcella, I don’t want to spend my life biting my tongue or taking orders from a man. I have one boss. I don’t want two. Besides, look who’s talking about having a husband. You made a giant mistake marrying Gordon and wasted years trying to get past it.”

  Even though her mother’s assessment of her was probably correct, Marcella didn’t have time to discuss an issue that had been beaten to death over the years.

  “I’m trying to get past it now,” Marcella reasoned. “Now I’ve got to go. I’ll walk the boys down about six thirty.”

  She was halfway down the hallway when her mother’s head popped around the bedroom door.

  “Marcella! Are you telling me you’re getting serious about this cowboy?”

  Was she? For the past week Marcella had been telling her heart to be cautious and smart. She’d been assuring herself that she wasn’t about to let herself become totally captivated over a man she was just now beginning to know. Yet the more time she spent with Denver, the more she longed to be with him.

  “It’s far too soon to be asking me that question.”

  Saundra snorted. “I married your father two weeks after I met him.”

  “Yes, and where is he now?” Before her mother could make a retort to that question, Marcella left the house and hurriedly walked the two short blocks to her own house.

  * * *

  Later that night, in a little Mexican café on the outskirts of the city, Marcella sipped her drink while silently chiding herself for ordering a margarita. Sitting across the intimate table from Denver was enough to tilt her senses without adding tequila to the mix.

  “I’m really surprised that Harry and Peter didn’t want to come along tonight. Did I make them angry or something?”

  When Denver had called about going out tonight, his plan had been to take the three of them to a G-rated movie and out for fast food. But for some reason Harry and Peter had insisted they wanted to spend the evening with their grandmother. A decision that Marcella still found very suspicious.

  Now the two of them were sitting in this tiny cantina with little more than a fat candle lighting their table and flamenco music playing softly in the background. The rich food on her plate was delicious, and so was his company.

  “Harry and Peter are definitely not angry at you. In fact, they both made me promise to tell you hello and they’d see you next time. They’re st
ill talking about the picnic and the golf. And they’re especially talking about you. I think they believe you’re wearing a big S underneath your Western shirt.”

  Last weekend, Denver had taken the four of them on a picnic to Washoe Lake, then wrapped up the day back in Carson City with a round of miniature golf. The boys had been so thrilled with the outing they were still talking about it. As for Marcella, that halcyon day had been like a dream, one that she’d never wanted to end.

  A wry smile on his lips, Denver dipped a corn chip into a bowl of avocado dip. “Well, I would’ve sworn they had a good time last weekend. But sometimes kids are good at hiding their feelings. Maybe they just pretended to be having fun to be nice to me.”

  Marcella laughed. “Now, that is funny. That trip to Washoe was thrilling for them. In fact, I’m betting they’re probably getting it on their mind to beg you to take them camping. Just a warning, so you can have an excuse ready.”

  “Would they like to go camping? I remember Harry asking me if I knew how to fish.”

  Marcella smiled wanly. “They’ve never gotten to go camping before. Except for camping in the backyard. I bought them a tent and a bit of outdoor gear for that. I know it’s not the same, so sooner or later I’m going to have to make good on my promises to take them on a real camping adventure.”

  He shook his head with disbelief. “I can’t believe the boys haven’t been camping. Your ex has never offered to take Harry, at least?”

  She let out a short, cynical laugh. “Are you kidding? What he knows about camping you could put in your eye. And even if he was familiar with the outdoor pastime, he wouldn’t offer. He lives in another part of the state and doesn’t even bother to acknowledge Harry’s birthday or ever see him.”

  “What a loss,” Denver murmured.

  “The man is clueless as to what he’s missing.” She sighed as she scooped up the last bite of enchilada with her fork. “But he does pay his child support—to avoid doing jail time.”

  A few moments of silence passed as both of them resumed eating. Then finally Denver spoke in a quiet voice, “Well, as much as I like Harry and Peter’s company, I’m grateful to have you to myself tonight.”

  Marcella glanced over to see that his dark gaze was making a slow survey of her face, and suddenly she was reliving those few passionate moments on the couch when he’d kissed her. Since then, he hadn’t tried to kiss her again and Marcella could only guess as to the reason. True, the children had accompanied them last weekend. But there had been a few occasions when the two of them had been alone long enough to exchange a kiss. It hadn’t happened, and she was beginning to wonder if Denver had decided the two of them would be better off simply being friends.

  But he wasn’t looking at her like a friend. And whenever she gazed back at him, she certainly wasn’t feeling friendly. Every inch of her was feeling like a woman.

  “Yes, it’s nice being able to talk. Just the two of us. The only time I get that is when I’m at work. And the conversation there is generally of a different kind—about injuries and wounds and treatments, living and dying. It gets pretty stressful at times.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know how you deal with it,” he said admirably. “I couldn’t.”

  “I’ve been trained to deal with it,” she said easily. “Just like you’ve been trained to do your job on the ranch. I couldn’t rope a bull or deliver a calf.”

  “I wouldn’t say that. There are plenty of women ranchers who can do those things. Like Sassy and Evan Calhoun’s wife, Noelle.”

  The mention of the two Calhoun women had her casting him an impish smile. “Sassy and Noelle are exceptions. They not only know their way around a cattle pen, they do it all with a baby on their hip.”

  “That’s true. Evan and Noelle’s son, Little Bart, is only about seven months old,” Denver said.

  Before she could stop it, a wistful sigh slipped past her lips. “I got to see Little Bart at the Halloween party. He’s so cute. I’d love to have another little boy to go with my two. Surprisingly, my guys are crazy about my friend Geena’s baby girl. They’d love to have a sister. But...that’s just a dream.”

  He leveled a sober look at her, and for a moment Marcella got the impression she’d said something wrong. But that didn’t make sense. She’d only been talking about babies.

  “So you’d like to have another child?” he asked stiffly.

  She grimaced. “The way you ask that—well, you sound like I’ve shocked you.”

  His gaze dropped to his plate. “You already have two boys and they’re half-grown. I’m just surprised that you’d want to start over with a baby.”

  “Well, hang on to your fork so you won’t drop it. But I want more than one more baby. I’d love to have two or three more. I’m only thirty-three. So I have enough fertile years left. But I’m sure that dream will never happen,” she conceded, then added with an awkward laugh, “No man wants to take on two half-grown boys, much less add three more to the family.”

  Thick black lashes partially hid his brown eyes as he glanced over at her.

  “Is having a big family something you’ve always wanted?”

  Reaching for her drink, she nodded. “When Spence and I were just little kids, I would beg our mother for another sister or brother. Then our parents got divorced and Dad moved to California. Losing him really hurt, and in my child’s mind I kept thinking he would’ve never left if I’d had lots of brothers and sisters. That maybe just the two of us weren’t enough for him. Of course, a dozen kids wouldn’t have kept my parents together. But I never lost the desire for a big family. Maybe that’s because I’ve never had a whole one. What about you?”

  He dunked another corn chip into the creamy avocado, and though he appeared casual and relaxed, Marcella got the feeling the talk of family had made him more than uncomfortable.

  That shouldn’t surprise you, Marcella. The man is a widower. He’s already told you he isn’t in the market for a wife and family. He probably feels like you’ve thrown a pack of cigarettes onto the tabletop and shone a bright light in his eyes.

  She was about to tell him he didn’t have to answer her question when he said, “I never really thought about having a bunch of kids. I guess I was always too busy making a living for me and my wife. Then after she died—well, none of it really mattered.”

  “I probably shouldn’t ask, but how did your wife die? An accident?”

  His gaze slipped to a spot across the room where a man was sitting alone at the end of the bar. Marcella noticed that the beer drinker’s expression looked as stark as Denver’s.

  Denver said, “She developed diabetes—a severe case. Over time she quit following doctor’s orders and died of complications.”

  “It’s an unforgiving disease.”

  “Yes. I learned exactly how unforgiving,” he said, his voice tinged with bitterness.

  The glow of the candlelight etched his rugged features with a soft gold color, and as Marcella studied his face, she wondered about the woman he’d loved and married all those years ago. In spite of her untimely death, she’d been a very lucky woman. At least for a little while.

  She took another sip of her drink in hopes it would ease the thickness in her throat. “Life is short and unpredictable,” she said gently. “Sometimes it doesn’t turn out the way we plan or hope it will. Mine has certainly thrown me plenty of curveballs.”

  “Yes,” he murmured. “We have to move on. Whether we want to or not.”

  She wasn’t sure if he was talking about losing his wife or simply life in general. Either way, she wasn’t going to push or prod him to open up old scars. She wanted this night to be easy and special for both of them.

  Smiling brightly now, she said, “Tell me about your parents’ ranch. What was it like for you growing up there?”

  A glow of pleasure re
turned to his eyes and the sight of it filled her with relief. She wanted Denver to be happy. As happy as he’d made her and the boys.

  “It was the best place in the world. For me, at least. Lots of cattle on wide-open spaces with plenty of horses to ride and dogs and cats for buddies. My parents had to work very hard to make ends meet, but they always made sure my sister and I had the things we needed.”

  “You got along well with them?”

  “I adored Mom and Dad. Still do. They taught me so much. Not just about ranching but about becoming a man, owning up to my responsibilities and keeping a strong work ethic.”

  “Hmm. It makes me wonder why you’re not still there. Working the ranch with your father.”

  A wry smile touched his lips. “Trust me, Marcella. If the Yates ranch had been big enough for the both of us, I’d still be there. But it’s a small operation. Just big enough to support one family. I needed to get out on my own.”

  “I understand. So do you go back very often to visit?”

  “Twice a year,” he said with a regretful shake of his head. “Now that my parents are getting older, I keep promising myself to go more often. But it seems like we’re always swamped on the Horn and I hate to leave Rafe shorthanded.”

  “Yes, that’s the way it is with me. I wish I could go see my grandparents more often, but work doesn’t allow me enough time to leave town.”

  She placed her drink back on the tabletop and Denver gestured to her plate. “If you’re finished, we ought to be leaving. The movie will be starting soon and we’re at least twenty minutes away from the theater.”

  Nodding, Marcella removed the napkin from her lap and reached for the handbag she’d placed under her chair. “Yes, I’m finished.”

  He motioned for the waitress, and while he took care of the bill, Marcella made a quick trip to the ladies’ room. Minutes later, they stepped out of the restaurant to be greeted by a strong north wind and a spattering of rain.

  “I have my hat to keep me dry. You stay here under the porch entrance and I’ll pull the truck around,” he told Marcella.