Hearts Crossing Ranch Anthology

by Tanya Hanson

  Hoop snickered. “Don’t I know. But it’s starting to snow. Easier for folks to get back home from here than the ranch. Town plows the roads right away. And she can’t always get her way, now, can she?”

  Scooting his chair close, Hoop wrapped his arm around Mallie’s shoulders. She wriggled close, never before feeling such warmth and safety. “If you had your druthers, where would you get married?” He leaned close to whisper in her ear over the chattering guests. “California?”

  Her heart pittered. Was it going to happen already? She had never been more sure about anything in her life, except now, her salvation in Christ. With her, Hoop, and Ella bound for her parents’ home shortly after Christmas, Mallie had thought he might propose there and get her father talked to at the same time. Or make a gift out of his proposal on Christmas Eve.

  Trying to act casual, she grinned and shook her head. “Oh, no. Posy’s Grove.” Not only was it the place where she and Hoop found each other for real and forever, but she also loved the story of Hoop’s ancestor making such a beautiful resting place for his faithful mule. The ashes of Daisy’s precious black Lab rested in the woods there, too. To her, the juxtaposition of graves and wedding made perfect sense, for love, loyalty, hope, and even death were all components of a well-lived life in Christ. “And just so you know. I have contracted two real clients for Wildflower Wedding Planning. Linda Morse of the C.C. Rider is getting married in June, and I’ve convinced her to have Heart Crossing’s very first destination wedding.”

  Hoop rose and gave her his hand. Reaching for it, she stood up, too. “Nope. That won’t work,” he announced with a firm stance.

  “What?” Her face muscles crunched.

  “I mean, it’ll work for the second destination wedding.”

  “What do you mean?” Mallie asked but of course she did kind of know. Through the throngs, Hoop led her to a secluded little nook set with a leather loveseat and a couple of wing chairs.

  “I mean, I’d like us to go first at the grove. April maybe. If you’ll have me, Miss Malia Cameron.”

  He knelt in front of her just like the proposal of a little girl’s dreams. Another miracle she’d once thought was out of reach. Her veins flooded with love, and her heart raced.

  “Of course, John Hooper Martin. Aw, you had me at hello.”

  He stood into her embrace, and his usual scent of man and outdoors mixed in nicely with the whiff of snow. As Pike’s best man, he looked magnificent in a Western-style tux and had polished his boots to mirror-level. Still, it didn’t matter what he wore; he always took her breath away. His hair had grown in nicely, a red-brown that had come from Grim-Gram, and she ruffled it with her fingers.

  “Thing is…” he spoke right into her waiting lips. “I want you to come with me to pick out a ring. I know how particular you are.”

  “What?” She repeated again. Anything out of a Cracker Jack box would do.

  “Well, you picked me, right?” He grinned, smug.

  “That I did.” Her arms tightened around his neck, as the strains of “Every Move I Make” filled the club. That meant Daisy and Pike were making their way in to dinner.

  The bride glided by, shimmering in silver satin. No veil; her shiny black hair ringed with a wreath Mallie had made from greenery wrapped in pearls. With long sleeves ending in V’s at her fingertips, Daisy looked like something from Camelot, and Pike, well, in his tux and silver tie, he was cowboy and knight-in-shining-armor combined.

  Tears misted in Mallie’s eyes. Soon it would be her and Hoop. God was good. He did provide, both here on earth and later, in Heaven. Most Sundays, Pastor Hale said something about the peace that passes our understanding, and tonight more than ever Mallie knew what he meant.

  “Let’s tell everybody tomorrow,” Mallie said. “This is Pike and Daisy’s day.”

  “Right.” Hoop took her hand, but she suspected if her face shone like his did right now, everybody would know anyway.

  As they reached their table where Ella waited, Hoop pointed to table eight where Bragg sat, gabbing with a pretty girl who held Rachel’s baby son in her arms. “And that would be…?”

  “I met her today. Tiffany something. Rachel’s hired her as a paralegal with au-pair duties. She needs help, you know. At the office and at home.”

  “I can imagine. Being a single parent isn’t easy.” Hoop said wryly. “Bragg deserves somebody nice. Wouldn’t be the first time magic happened at a Martin wedding.” He nibbled her ear. “Now, would it?”

  “No. And the magic is interstate. Once my brother found out Katie only lives an hour away, he’s been burning up the freeway.“

  “Ah, love stories. Ain’t they grand?” Hoop did the drawl thing again, took her hand to his lips and planted a kiss where he’d eventually place his ring.

  “Yes.” Mallie’s heart skittered. “As long as they have happy endings. Um...” She kissed his hand. “No matter how long or how short they may be.”

  Hoop nodded. “With God on our side, it couldn’t be any other way.”

  “Forever and ever. Amen.”

  Right to Bragg

  1

  A storm might be brewing, but all Bragg Martin had left to do on this Friday afternoon was chuck off his boots and settle in for a long winter’s nap. Horses ridden, cattle tended, chores done and year-end accounts worked on, and he’d even gotten the dreaded Christmas shopping over and done with.

  After he threw on a load of logs, he sprawled happily on the couch in the ranch house’s big front room. The phone rang. Not a muscle moved. With the giant family he had, there was always somebody else to do things he didn’t really want to.

  Like get up and answer it.

  But the ugly thing didn’t shut up, and with a groan, he hauled his bones to the land line in Pa’s office. Well, it was his big brother’s office now, but Hooper and his new fiancée Mallie were off decorating her aunt and uncle’s Christmas tree. He sprawled all over this couch and mumbled into the receiver.

  “Hearts Crossing.”

  “Who is this? Bragg?” His sister Rachel came over the line, amped up, which wasn’t one whit like her. Her mannerisms were always cool, logical attorney.

  “Yep. You OK?” For a flash, some alarm tweaked him.

  “Yeah, I just need a favor.”

  “All righty.” It was the season of giving, after all.

  Relief rattled her voice. “Thank God. Ma and Mrs. Densmore are off on that one-horse-open-sleigh caroling thing with Ella’s kindergarten class.”

  Bragg smiled at mention of his little niece.

  “And I can’t find Scott.”

  “Off shopping.” Bragg sniffed at the poor sap.

  “Then it’s you. I need you to go babysit Matty.”

  “What?” Babysit Matty? His five-month old nephew? Sure Bragg had been raised by equal-opportunity parents, but babysitting an infant wasn’t exactly stuff for a single guy.

  “I’m stuck in Rustic Canyon at a deposition. We’re running late. Chelsea’s with him now, but she’s got a date.”

  Their other sister Kelley wasn’t due back in town until Christmas Eve, but he had one more brother to ramrod into the task since the newlywed Pike was still on his honeymoon.

  “You got the wrong dude, sis. Get Kenn. He and Christy’ll be having kids of their own someday.”

  “No. They’ve got Kenn’s faculty Christmas party. It’s you. You’re the only one left. Please? It’s just until Tiffany gets back.”

  He grunted. Last week Rachel’s new paralegal slash au-pair had flirted with him with great enthusiasm at Pike and Daisy’s wedding reception, but downright snubbed him when he asked her out. Not number one on his favorite person list, because things like that just didn’t happen to Bragg Martin.

  “So where’s she now?”

  “Tiffany asked for a personal day.”

  A personal day already? What, after two weeks? He tried hard to wiggle out. “Can’t you find somebody from church? I don’t know how to change a diaper.
”

  Rachel laughed, so he reckoned she believed he’d caved, and she started her closing arguments. “Now, now. You put the little cloth tee-pee over his you-know-what so he doesn’t shower you. If it’s the other, there’s plenty of wet wipes. Then you tape up the sides of the dy-dee. It’s not rocket science.”

  “Aw…”

  “And there’s plenty of breast milk in little bottles in the fridge…”

  That did it. “Raaaaaache…” he wailed.

  Rachel ignored him “…to put in the microwave for thirty seconds.”

  He groaned. Nothing against nature, but…

  His big sister went all attorney, now. “Grow up, Bragg. It looks and works like any other milk. Now, hurry. Chelsea can show you where everything is before she leaves. And sweetie, thanks. I owe you.”

  “That you do.” Then he recalled where she was. The icy road from Rustic Canyon could be a hard one in rough weather. “Rache, be careful out there. I think we’ve got a storm coming in.”

  He could hear her smile over the line. All his brothers protected their womenfolk no matter how loud the gals roared. “I will, little brother. Nick’s got me the best snow tires there are. And I’ve driven in these parts longer than you. Now, Tiffany should be there by six. You can handle it.”

  Or not. Hanging up, spirits dark, he climbed back into his boots. Not that he didn’t just love the little guy to death. But what a time for all his siblings to have their own agendas.

  Nobody locked doors around here, but he did switch on the Christmas lights, even though it wasn’t exactly dark yet. Just to welcome everybody when they finally made their way back. Plus, Hearts Crossing looked pretty, all lit up. Climbing into a thick wool jacket with fleece lining, he tossed on his Stetson and set off for Mountain Cove, about eight miles away. Driving his big truck under the post gate hung with its brand –two interlocking hearts with intersecting cross— always calmed him down. Today was even better, all strung with lights. This ranch was home, and he was blessed to live here.

  No snow yet. Even with the deep gray sky, the ride to town pleased him like it always did. Mountains already wore snow, and foothills with white-tipped pine, spruce, and winter-brown aspen branches reached high toward God. Every half mile or so, wind grabbed the truck. Still, nowhere on earth was there a better place to live than smack dab right here, at Hearts Crossing Ranch.

  He had time to think. His brother-in-law Nick had deployed to the Middle East just weeks before his son’s birth, and even a single guy saw how circumstances grated on Rachel. But she met every day with smiles and prayers. She and Nick had a fine, newish condo on the east side of town in a small group of about twelve townhomes built to match the western flavor of their historic ranching town.

  Although his brother Kenn and new wife Christy lived on the ranch, Kenn spent time in town as a teacher at Mountain Cove High School. But this afternoon, he wasn’t here.

  The irony didn’t escape Bragg, and he burst out laughing. Irony. He’d been in Kenn’s English classes long ago and obviously remembered at least one literary term.

  His teeth clenched. Those years had seen him do some bad things, and these days, he tried hard to make up for everything. With God’s guidance, he was making headway.

  Even if he had lost two clients who had trusted him completely. With a sigh, he knew he had miles to go. Figuratively.

  Another literary term. Wow, was he back in high school? Well, there was Tiffany.

  Sorry. I can’t go out with you. Pretty, but prissy, little mouth.

  Got a boyfriend? She hadn’t acted attached. No ring. No nun’s habit. Flirted bigtime until he popped the go-out-with-me question.

  No, but I don’t date. Anyone.

  At least she’d looked a bit abashed. His teeth clenched again. In a couple hours, she’d be showing her face. Whew. His truck snarled into town, wrapped up tight against the chill. Strings of Christmas bells arched from one side of the street to the other, thrashing in the wind. Hopefully Ma had brought that sleighful of kindergartners in from the cold.

  Hopefully Rachel would get home OK.

  He parked the truck in her driveway and ran to the front door with stomping feet.

  “Brrrrrrrr.” Chelsea let him in, and he grumped right away. “It’s only four. What are you in such a rush for about a date tonight?”

  “Shhhhhh. Matty’s asleep.” She was already twisting a long scarf around her neck. “John’s getting me at seven. Everybody’s home from college. We have our first mini-reunion out at the Double D…”

  Mini-reunion? What was that about? She’d been out of high school, what, six months?

  “…and I’m heading toward the Bumble Bee for a manicure and highlights in my hair.”

  “What’s wrong with your hair the way it is?” Bragg asked, frowning at her long curls wound tight like a scrub pad. Of all the kids, only she had gotten Grim-Gram’s dark red hair.

  A big-time eye roll. “I gotta go. Matty’s been a real good boy. He won’t be a bit of trouble.”

  “I hope not.” He noticed Rachel’s unlit fireplace. “I was all set for a long winter’s nap.”

  “Then get back to it.” She grabbed her purse. “Get some shut eye in while he naps.”

  “What?” News to him. Didn’t a babysitter watch out every second?

  Chelsea shrugged. “It’s what mommies do. Catch some Z’s while the baby sleeps. You’ll hear him on the baby monitor.” She hugged him quick and pointed toward something he vaguely recognized from her babyhood. Ma and Pa’s little afterthought, there were sixteen years between her and their oldest brother Hooper, and seven between him, second youngest, and her.

  “All righty. You take care out there. I think something wicked this way comes.”

  Her eyes grew big. “Sounds like a horror movie.”

  “Blizzard. Feel it in my bones.” He kissed her cheek and she left. After hanging his thick jacket and hat on a rack, then set to building a fire.

  Snow started to fall. Well, Chelsea was no slouch driving in it. Tricks of the trade when you lived in these parts. The fire took hold quick after he lit the piped-in gas, and he guffawed, recalling campfires he started from scratch on the family’s city-slicker wagon train tours. Rachel had one of those silly blankets with arms hanging off the back of the couch, and he climbed in it and curled up. Ah, kinda cozy. Maybe it wasn’t such a silly thing at all. His eyes closed.

  Suddenly he was jerked back into real life when freezing air blasted his face and a baby’s howls smacked his ears. But the fuzz of sleep still clogged him. Who was the dream angel bending over him?

  Tiffany Vickers. His heart hammered—both from being startled and because of how pretty she looked. Brown hair paintbrushed by the sun, gray eyes flecked with gold like the dark of dawn giving way to sunrise.

  “What…what’s going on?” He pushed her away and struggled to get up, all tied up in the yards of fleece.

  “Just a sec.” She left in a whiff of perfume. “I’ll get Matt.”

  Finally on his feet, Bragg started after her. The baby was his responsibility, after all.

  “You know each other, don’t you?” She called out.

  Then somebody shut the front door, and Bragg turned to see who. Whom. The man facing him had Bragg’s heart drumming now in beats of rage.

  Tony O’Neal. The swim coach who had led him down the road of steroid temptation. Oh yeah. Bragg knew him. Tony O’Neal had also brought Daisy, Pike’s new bride, to heartbreak and ridicule.

  What was Tiffany Vickers, who didn’t date anybody, doing with the worst thing ever to happen to Mountain Cove?

  ****

  Comforting the precious-smelling bundle against her shoulder, Tiffany breathed deep of the warm air inside the house and hurried back to the living room. Sure beat the raging weather outside. When she beheld Bragg Martin, sleep-rumpled and drowsy-eyed, her heart tumbled to her toes for its second time in as many minutes. He might as well hire out as a cover model.

  Bu
t he was way off limits. She’d only been in Mountain Cove a short time, but she already understood how highly-regarded his family was, how strong in faith and conviction. They sure didn’t need somebody like her to drag them down.

  Now her heart thudded with pangs of grief and lost cause. Back in Lakewood, Paul hadn’t even answered the door. She’d dumped the presents on the porch and headed straight back to Mountain Cove in a torrent of sobs.

  Three hundred miles round trip. Ah well. Tonight in her pillow she could continue to cry after Matty slept tight. Right now, she had a job to do.

  Here inside the tidy, warm townhouse, the men were doing some kind of macho showdown, she could tell. Well, her years as a paralegal had taught her how to diffuse angry people. And tending childlike males such as her brother was something she’d gotten very good at.

  Well, other than today. Likely the snowstorm would hit the Denver area with this same amount of muscle and smother the presents with a dozen icy inches. Eyelashes fluttered away her tears.

  Enough of that. She had a baby to tend.

  “What’s he doing here?” Bragg’s tight tone and shoulders grabbed her attention.

  Tony headed toward a big lounge chair like nothing weird was going on. “Didn’t expect to find you here, either.” Tony shrugged. His face was a tad red. Maybe embarrassment, although it could be leftover warmth from the blazing heater in his truck.

  “It is my sister’s house.” Bragg said, flat. “I do have things to say, O’Neal, but this isn’t the place.” Then he turned back to Tiffany, hands raised in the time-honored “what’s going on?” gesture.

  She couldn’t help noticing Tony’s smirk.

  Ah, well, not my problem. She swayed back and forth with the baby. How she missed little Connor. Deep down, she admitted baby Matthew was a big reason she’d answered Rachel’s want ad for nanny/part-time paralegal. She hugged him close, and he cooed, already accustomed to her voice.