Christmas at Hope Ranch

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Christmas at Hope Ranch Page 6

by Loretta C. Rogers


  Wade pulled a plastic evidence bag from his pocket. He knelt and carefully scooped snow from around the ribbon lest he spring an animal trap. What he found was a wooden surveyor’s spike. He removed the phone from his pocket and snapped several pictures before pulling the spike out of the dirt and slipping it into the bag. He labeled the picture as number one. He searched around for a small branch to mark the spot before trudging toward Emmett.

  Emmett knelt. Like Wade, he had used caution to remove snow from around a ribbon that was a twin to the one Wade had discovered. The old man had seen animals that had literally gnawed off a paw to escape the steel jaws of a spring trap. No traps here, though. He added his discovery to the plastic bag that Wade held forward.

  Emmett brushed the snow from the knees of his pants. As he situated the hat on his head, he turned. “Well, I’ll be gawldanged, Wade. Look yonder.”

  Wade’s gaze followed where the old man pointed. He swallowed the profanity threatening to spew in response to what he saw. “We’re high up enough that this would make a perfect ski slope right straight to Nell’s back door. In fact”—he cast a view along the vista to where the Kootenay River bordered Nell’s six hundred acres of prime land—“I’m thinking someone is doing a little secret surveying to scope out Nell’s land as a spot for some sort of resort.”

  “Sonafabitch. Ain’t that trespassin’?”

  “It is, especially if it’s done without the owner’s permission.” Wade held up the plastic bag. “I might even toss in a littering charge, just for the hell of it.”

  “How are we gonna find out who’s doin’ this?”

  “We aren’t.” Wade gave the old man a stay out of my business look. “I’ll let you know if I need your help.”

  “Not a word to Nell about this, least not until you find out who the culprits are that’re tryin’ to steal her land. Probably one of them super real estate corporations that has more money than brains and doesn’t give two hoots in hell about preservin’ nature.”

  Although he agreed with the old man, Wade knew he needed to keep his thoughts to himself. Fueling Emmett’s fire wouldn’t serve any good purposes. “Don’t go making assumptions, Emmett. We don’t know that anyone’s up to no good. I’ll check it out.”

  “Yeah, well, Brenda said she hadn’t seen any strangers in town.”

  “Wade laughed. “Uh-huh, and as she also pointed out, almost everyone in town was a stranger.”

  Emmet said emphatically, “I’m here to tell you, if I find out it’s one of our locals, I’ll nail his sorry hide to the wall.”

  Wade clapped the older man on the back. “I’ve got to get back to the office.”

  Reaching where they’d left the horses, the men rode down the mountain toward Emmett’s ranch. To break the silence, Wade said, “You’re very protective of Nell. It’s none of my business, but why haven’t you asked her to marry you?”

  Emmett scowled. “You’re right. It’s none of your business.” In the next breath, he added, “Besides, who says I haven’t?”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “Nope. ’Nuff said.”

  Wade had known Emmett Oxbow his entire life. Until he took up ranching full-time, he’d been a deputy when Ward Grey was sheriff. Meadow Creek was a small town, and if anyone would have the inside scoop on old flames and forgotten romances, it would be his mother.

  Losing himself in thought had made the ride down the mountain and into the ranch yard seem shorter than when he and Emmett had first set out. Dismounting, Wade led the gelding to the barn where he unsaddled the horse and led it into a stall to be brushed down and a warming blanket tossed over its back.

  “You know, Emmett, as much as I hate to admit it, going in on horseback was enjoyable.” He rubbed his backside. “Tomorrow morning my muscles might disagree.”

  Emmett stepped out of the stall where he’d put his gelding. “Better soak in a hot tub before goin’ to bed tonight. If that doesn’t work”—the old man guffawed—“I have a bottle of horse liniment that’ll do the trick.”

  Chapter Seven

  Addison smiled as she eased the bedroom door shut. The twins had had a full morning collecting eggs and having other barn adventures that included finding and cuddling Dixie and Trixie, the barn mousers. After a midday snack, Joey and Julie didn’t argue about taking a nap. Addison planned to use this time to catch up on a few phone calls.

  She peeked into the kitchen where Nell had just hung up the phone. The crestfallen expression tugged at Addison’s heart. “What is it?”

  Nell heaved a sigh. “I guess the meeting’s off. Edith says the roads are too slippery, Dorothy has the sniffles, Maxine… Well, everyone has an excuse.” She picked at the crust of one of the quiches. “Can’t say as I blame them. We’re all a bunch of old women. Our numbers have thinned out due to deaths, or living in nursing homes, or just too old and tired to plan the annual Christmas bazaar.” She wiped a tear before it fell. “We’ve tried to recruit younger people.” She shrugged. “These days, it seems the younger generation just isn’t interested in keeping tradition alive.” She sauntered slowly to the kitchen door. “I think I’ll go watch my programs and maybe take a nap. Help yourself to the quiche.”

  Addison longed to give her foster mother comfort and didn’t know what kept her from going to her and giving a hug to someone who desperately needed one. Instead she offered a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry, truly.”

  She automatically glanced at the phone. As if reading her mind, Nell said, “There’s a phone in my office if you’d like some privacy.”

  “Oh, I didn’t mean to imply my business was more important than talking to you.”

  Her voice dejected, Nell said, “It’s okay.” With that, she left the kitchen and headed to her combination bedroom-sitting room equipped with a television.

  Addison trailed down the hall to the small closet-like room that Nell called her office. She sat in the large black leather office chair. The antique rolltop desk was littered with unopened envelopes, old calendars, and newspaper clippings. Addison picked up the stack and filtered through article after article that followed her career. Included were articles and pictures that announced her engagement to billionaire Rowan Sarkozy, and the most recent photo of the collapsed runway. A shiver chilled Addison at the sight of her lying on the ground like a crumpled doll.

  She opened her cell phone and groaned at the no service message. She scrolled to her contacts list and, using Nell’s old-style rotary phone, dialed her agent.

  “Glamour Plus, Carl speaking.”

  “Carl, its Addison.”

  “My god, Addison, it’s good to hear from you. How in the hell are you? I haven’t seen you since you were released from the hospital, and better yet, where in the hell are you? I can’t begin to count how many times I’ve called you.”

  Addison laughed. “Take a breath, Carl. First off, I’m at my aunt’s ranch in Meadow Creek, Idaho, where there is no cell phone reception. You won’t believe it, but I’m calling you from an antique rotary phone.”

  “Rotary phone…you mean as in the Christopher Columbus days? My god, girl, you need to get back to civilization.”

  “I will…” Addison sighed. “Just as soon as I can get an appointment with a doctor to remove the stitches.”

  “Yeah, about that, if you have a pen, jot this down. It’s the name and number of a top-notch plastic surgeon. He’s in Vegas. Comes highly recommended because he makes ugly beautiful again.” Carl’s namby-pamby voice rose an octave. “As you know, scars of any kind are not a model’s friend—especially if the scars are on the face.”

  Addison blinked hard, trying to funnel her agitation. “I understand, Carl. Tell me, what are my rankings?”

  The exaggerated sigh told her more than she wanted to hear. “Dropping, my darling. You know the old saying, Out of sight…out of mind. Taylor Tagget’s rankings are moving up fast. Oh, hold on, my darling, I need to get this.”

  While she waited on hold, Addi
son absentmindedly rifled through a stack of envelopes. She noticed that the majority of them were from First Federal Holdings of Seattle. She wondered why Nell hadn’t opened the envelopes and why a mortgage company had sent her over ten letters.

  Her agent’s voice cooed, “Addison, forgive me, darling, some sort of emergency with the Egyptian shoot. Too bad you’re not available. You’d be perfect. Call me as soon as your face is fixed. Love you, ta.” She heard the smack to indicate a kiss and then the line went dead.

  “Carl…Carl…I… Shit!” Addison wanted to throw the receiver against the wall. Instead, she dialed the number of her doctor in New York only to learn that it would be four months before he had an available appointment date. Four months—to April—wouldn’t do. The stitches needed to come out. The receptionist suggested a local physician could remove the stitches.

  “Oh, great…just great!” She reached into her sling and withdrew Wade’s business card, flipped it over, and dialed the number for Dr. Ava Grey-Montgomery.

  Addison breathed a sigh of relief. “Yes, I’m sure Friday at one o’clock will work. However, Nell doesn’t drive. She may insist on bringing us to town in the sleigh.”

  The good-natured voice on the other end said, “It won’t be the first time Nell has come to town driving her sleigh. She’s one of Meadow Creek’s more colorful characters, but she’s also one of the most loved. I don’t think there’s a citizen in this town that she hasn’t helped in one way or another. So, if you’re a little late, don’t worry. Your appointment is set, and we look forward to meeting you, Miss James.”

  Addison added the appointment to her phone’s calendar. She leaned back in the chair and closed her eyes. The news that her archrival, Taylor Tagget, stood to replace her as top model stung. Part of her dreaded getting the stitches removed and seeing how badly her face was scarred, and part of her…what? No, she couldn’t believe she was actually thinking that a scarred face would give her an excuse to retire from days of subsisting on cucumber water and plain yogurt to maintain her size four figure, from doing bikini shoots in freezing waters during the winter months, or posing in ski outfits during July’s summer heat, and always expected to look fresh after eighty-hour work weeks and twelve-hour flights from one country to the next.

  This brought another thought—what would she do with her life if her career came to an end? She wasn’t sure what she felt…relief, skepticism…worry?

  Maybe she should swallow her pride and call Rowan. No! That was begging, and begging was beneath her. She would never be that desperate.

  Tears stung her eyes. She blinked them away, telling herself to get over it. She eyed the stack of unopened envelopes. Glancing at the open door, Addison listened closely until she was satisfied that Nell’s television was still on. Part of her felt like a sneak thief as she reached for one of the envelopes, but the curious part of her slid the letter opener under the flap and carefully wiggled it downward and then upward until she was able to open the envelope without tearing it. Once she peeked at the contents, she would glue the flap shut. No one would be the wiser. Except her, of course.

  To reassure that Nell was still occupied, Addison glanced again at the door. She turned her attention to the letter. The gasp sounded overly loud in the small room.

  The hell with it. She grabbed another letter and looked at the date, then decided to stack the envelopes in chronological order by date mailed. One by one, she opened them, each one a notice of arrears on the mortgage, the more recent ones threatening foreclosure if payment wasn’t received, and the last on the pile stated that foreclosure was imminent if the arrears were not brought current by… Addison opened her phone calendar. “Oh, no, that’s in three days!”

  She lifted the old-fashioned desk phone’s yellow receiver and dialed.

  “Sheriff’s office. Millie Mann speaking.”

  “May I speak to Sheriff Grey?”

  “Sorry, he’s on a call. If this is an emergency, I can send Deputy Sumner.”

  “No, the deputy won’t do. I need to speak to the sheriff immediately. It’s…a personal matter, but important. Well, maybe it’s an emergency…sort of.”

  “I can send Deputy Sumner, ma’am. He can be at your location in less than an hour.”

  Addison let her head fall back against the chair. “When do you expect the sheriff?”

  “Can’t say, ma’am. He’s in the field doing some investigating. If you’d like to leave your name and number, I’ll have him call you as soon as he returns.”

  “Yes…no, wait. Maybe I should talk to him in person. This is Addison James. I’m a guest at—ˮ

  “Oh, Addison, this is Millie Mann. Remember me? Well, it’s been eons since you left Meadow Creek.”

  “Hi, Millie. Of course, you and Nell were best friends. Really, I do need to speak with Sheriff Grey as soon as possible.”

  The tone of Millie’s voice changed from affable to serious. “Is Nell okay…the twins hurt?”

  “No, nothing like that. It’s…just tell him it’s personal but needs immediate attention. Really, it can’t wait.”

  She heard Millie suck in a breath. “He’s with Emmett Oxbow. I’ll give Emmett a call and relay your message. That’s the best I can do.”

  The thought of seeing Wade caused her heart to pound. “Thank you, Millie. It’s good speaking to you.”

  She felt even more like a thief when she gathered the letters, tucked them inside her sling, and slipped toward the door.

  The phone’s obnoxious ring caused Addison to jump. She was nearly out of the office and raced back to grab the phone before Nell came charging out of her room to answer it.

  “Hello?”

  “Addison, this is Wade. Millie said you had an emergency.”

  She kept her voice to a low whisper. “Can you hear me?”

  “Yes. What’s all the mystery?”

  “Can you come over right away? I don’t want to risk Nell hearing our conversation. Wade, it’s terrible. I mean it’s really awful.”

  “You’re scaring me, Addison. Do I need to have Millie get an ambulance out there?”

  “No, it’s not that kind of emergency. It’s of a personal nature. But when you get here, act normal. Nell doesn’t know about this, and I’d prefer to keep it private until after I’ve talked with you.”

  “Okay, get dressed. I’m taking you to lunch.”

  “Perfect. Oh, what should I wear? I don’t have flannel shirts and jeans.”

  She thought he snorted…a sound of disgust, probably. “Nothing fancy. You remember Smitty’s?”

  She thought her jaw dropped. “Smitty’s Pub? That’s not a restaurant. It’s a bar.”

  “I never said I was taking you to a restaurant. Besides it’s the only place in town loud enough to drown out private conversations. And the hamburgers are dynamite. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

  Ten minutes. It took at least an hour just to put on makeup. Not to speak of trying to do something with her hair. She raced up the stairs and hid the letters inside her large designer purse. Then she walked to the stair rail and yelled, “Nell, I need your help.” She laughed delightedly. “No need to come up here. I’ll bring everything down to your room.”

  She felt like a giddy teenager getting ready for her first date. It dawned on her that Rowan had never had this effect on her.

  Addison adjusted the sling as Nell tidied the long blonde braid. “Nell, why are some couples happy together and others not?”

  Nell glanced at their reflections in the mirror. “I suppose some people just aren’t right for each other.”

  Addison watched Nell watching her. “I saw the newspaper clippings on your desk. I wasn’t snooping. They were just there.”

  “That fiancé of yours sure was a handsome man. I guess you’d be referring to him and you, about being right for each other?”

  The tears surprised Addison. She thought she was over Rowan. “It still hurts more than I realized.” She dabbed the moisture with the tips of h
er fingers. “If I don’t stop this foolishness, I’ll ruin my makeup.”

  “Addy?”

  “Someday, Nell, I’ll tell you. All of it. Just not today.”

  Boomer rose from the round braided rug and trotted to the window. He loudly announced they had a visitor. Nell scolded, “Shush, Boomer. You’ll wake the twins.”

  “Hello,” Wade called from the foyer.

  There he stood. All six foot two inches. He wore jeans, cowboy boots, and a long-sleeved tan shirt, and he smelled slightly of horse, an aroma that mingled sensually with his musk aftershave. He reminded her of a young Tom Selleck—rugged—manly—sexy as hell.

  She didn’t miss his survey of her. Long and male, but his smile made it polite and not suggestive.

  Chapter Eight

  Smitty’s was busy, especially for a weekday, and mostly filled with tourists. Leo Smith stood behind the bar. He looked up when Wade entered, nodded, and cut his eyes toward a booth in a darkened corner. Wade answered the discreet nod and led Addison to his usual place. Leo followed.

  “You on duty, Wade?”

  “Yep. My usual.”

  Addison looked at him. “What is your usual?”

  “Coffee—black. Hamburger, ketchup and mustard, extra pickles, hold the onions, fries crisp.”

  She glanced at the bald man whose nose looked as if he’d lost one too many fights. “I’ll have the same, except no bread and no fries, no ketchup, and a glass of water with lemon.”

  Leo rolled his eyes and walked away.

  There was an awkward silence before Wade asked, “So what’s the big emergency?”

  “These.” Addison opened her purse and lifted out the stack of envelopes. “Nell is on the verge of losing the ranch. All of it.” She shoved the letters toward Wade. “She would have my hide if she knew I’d snooped through her personal stuff. I didn’t mean to, but they were right there in the open. So I looked.”

 

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