A Cowgirl's Christmas (14 page)

“Zorro?” Callan looked concerned. “Does Red have any idea what’s wrong?”

“No. He’s asked the vet to stop by tomorrow.”

“I’ll go take a look at him now.”

“Red has him in the barn for the night. Let me grab a flashlight and I’ll come with you.”

“It’s not necessary.”

But this time he was the one not putting up with an argument. He stacked the boxes inside and found a torch which fortunately had working batteries. By the time he was back outside Callan was already fifty paces ahead of him and he had to hurry to catch up.

“How old is Zorro?” he asked her.

“I’m not sure. You’d have to check the stock records in Red’s office. At least twenty. Maybe closer to twenty-five.”

The horses nickered as they approached the paddocks. For once Callan didn’t stop to say hi to Montana Sapphire, instead hurrying inside. She hit the light switch for the central corridor and they left their torches by the door.

The equestrian barn, like everything on the Circle C, was well built and maintained but with no fancy extras or expensive finishes.  The high ceiling was equipped with several fans to keep circulation moving and operated on a different switch from the lighting.

Zorro was in the first stall on the left. The giant gelding was lying down on his bed of wood chips but raised his head when Callan entered the stall.

“Hey, old boy. What’s going on?” She checked his food and water then crouched beside him and patted his neck, smoothing her fingers through his mane. “Not hungry huh? I wonder if you’ve been drinking. How about you stand for a bit so I can take a look at you?”

Court was amazed when Zorro responded and struggled up to his feet.

“Atta boy. You’re tired, aren’t you? Your eyes look a bit foggy. Let me see your teeth. That’s a good boy.”

Court leaned against the gate and watched, transfixed by this tender side of Callan. He’d hoped his time away from the Circle C had would help him sort out his feelings for her. This attraction was a complicating factor and he wished he could shake it.

But he couldn’t.

Instead of cooling off, he was more drawn to her than ever.

She took her time with the older horse, examining him carefully then shaking her head.

“I can’t see anything obvious that’s wrong. Hopefully the vet will figure this out. We should be monitoring his water. Do you know when his bucket was last filled?”

Court had to admit that he didn’t. Up until now he hadn’t much to do with old Zorro. Starting tomorrow, though, he was going to keep a close eye on him.

“You don’t suppose he misses Hawksley?” Court asked.

She tensed. “That could be part of the problem. Zorro is used to being ridden regularly. Someone should take him out for a bit tomorrow. That might perk him up. But I’d wait to get the go ahead from the vet, first.”

“Good idea. I’ll talk to Red about it in the morning.”

Callan stepped back from the horse and stood watching him for a bit. After a while Zorro’s head drooped. “He’s sleeping,” she said.

Court held the stall door open for her. As she passed by, he brushed woodchips off her arm. She paused and looked up at him. The sadness in her eyes made his gut ache. She had so much heart. When it came to animals, she wasn’t afraid to show it. But what about people? What about him?

He was afraid he knew the answer. In the best of circumstances, Callan would be a hard woman to win over. And he was in the very worst.

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allan didn’t sleep well that night. Worry about Zorro’s unexplained lack of appetite was part of the problem. But she also couldn’t stop thinking about Court and the way she felt when he was around. It was a weird combination of being off-balance and yet completely comfortable. The two things didn’t go together, which was what made it all so strange.

That moment when she’d been leaving Zorro’s stall and he’d touched her arm. She’d felt such an instant heat in her body. Which was crazy. He’d just been brushing off the bedding she’d picked up from Zorro’s stall.

And then there was the look she’d seen in his eyes. It had seemed as if he understood what Zorro meant to her and shared her concern for the old horse.

Which, of course, was also nuts. Court had no history with the old horse. He might care, but not to the degree that she did.

At dawn Callan dragged herself from bed. Checking out the window she saw that she’d been right about the snow. About an inch covered the tree branches and roofs of the outbuildings. And the fat, lazy flakes were still falling.

In the kitchen she made herself coffee, trying not to think about the many, many mornings she’d shared in this place, at this exact time of day, with Hawksley. It made no sense that she missed him because they’d barely said two words to each other.

But. She did.

Fortified by the coffee, she headed out to the horse barn. As she tracked through the fresh snow she noticed the light was already on inside. Expecting to see Derek, who often took care of the horses, she was surprised to find Court changing the bedding in Zorro’s stall.

“Good morning,” he said.

She glanced away, feeling a little flustered. “Did Zorro eat anything last night?”

“Afraid not. He did drink a bit of water this morning, though.”

“I’ll try mixing him some gruel.” By the time she’d heated the water and mixed in the grain, Zorro was back in his freshly cleaned stall lying down again, and the vet had arrived. Arch Landen was in his sixties, a little rough around the edges, but he knew what he was doing.

“Hey, Arch. Thanks for coming out here.”

“No problem. I’m shoeing horses for the MacCreadies later, anyway.” Arch took his vet bag into the stall and began his examination.

Too anxious to stand and watch, Callan went outside to check the water for the horses out in the paddock. A few of them were hiding out from the snow in the loafing shelter, but the majority didn’t seem to mind the turn in the weather.

Twenty minutes later, Arch called her back to the barn. Court was still there, looking concerned.

“I can’t find anything obvious. No sores in the mouth, his teeth seem good. Doesn’t seem to have any pain in the belly, or other injuries. I’ve taken some samples and we’ll run some tests. But for now I’d say try to tempt his appetite with his favorite foods, and give him some extra attention.”

It was the answer Callan had expected. There were few instant cures in animal husbandry. But she was still disappointed. Especially when Zorro refused even the gruel.

“I’ll try feed him again in a few hours,” Court said.  “Maybe all this attention has made him a little tense.”

“Thank you.” As she trudged back to the house, she gave herself a lecture. She shouldn’t let herself care so much. After all, Zorro was Court’s horse now.

An hour later Callan had showered, eaten a bit of breakfast and driven to Marietta. She was glad that Sage seemed to need her help at Copper Mountain Chocolates. It was good to have a job to do every day, even if it was one she didn’t know much about.

Sage’s shop was on Main Street, but since it wouldn’t open for another hour Callan went in the back entrance. The welcoming sweet-and-rich cocoa aroma was so thick, just breathing it probably added calories. Playing softly in the background was Sage’s favorite country music station.

“I’m here,” Callan called out over Keith Urban’s cheerful,
Who Wouldn’t Want To Be Me
.

“Hey, Callan,” her sister answered. Sage’s beautiful red hair—which Callan had always secretly coveted, before discovering it was inherited from a Scottish sperm donor—was tied back in a tight bun and she was wearing her trademark apron. “Sure is cold this morning. Did you get snow out at the ranch?”

“A skiff, but it’s still coming.” Callan exchanged her boots and jacket for clogs and an apron, then tied up her hair and washed her hands. “Zorro is off his feed. That’s why I’m late. I stayed to hear what the vet had to say.” She didn’t mention anything about Court. He wasn’t relevant to the news.

“I wonder if he’s missing Dad?”

Callan tried to ignore the tug Sage’s words gave to her heartstrings. Zorro was Court’s problem. Not hers. She wrapped the apron ties around her waist then glanced around. The kitchen was twice as big as the showroom out front, and looked more like an industrial factory. Sage did everything back here, from roasting and cracking the cacao beans to the final tempering and molding.

“What smells so good?”

“Orange and ginger truffles. I’m mixing up a batch now.”

“May I help?”

“I’m fine for now. But those chocolates you molded yesterday need to be packaged. Or you could chop nuts for the next batch of fruit and nut bark?”

“I’ll do the packaging first, the bark next.” Callan went to get a stack of the copper boxes.

“Thanks, Callan. This is so awesome, having your help. Especially at this time of year.”

“I’m glad to do it. So how are you feeling?”

“Ugh.” Sage made a face. “I just lost my breakfast about ten minutes ago. Who would have guessed the smell of chocolate would ever make me feel sick?”

“That is ironic. But I’m sorry you were sick. Maybe you should take a break.”

“I’m okay now. The nausea comes in waves. My doctor says it might pass altogether once I’m through the first trimester. I hope so. I can’t imagine Christmas without chocolate.” Sage put on a pair of clear plastic gloves, preparing to hand roll the truffle mixture.

“God that smells good. Can I try some?”

“Go ahead, I’d love for you to test this batch since I can’t.” She dipped a spoon into the mixture, then passed it over.

Callan placed the smooth, succulent mixture on her tongue. Immediately it began to melt and the flavors of orange, chocolate and ginger swam over her taste buds. “Yummmm.”

Sage smiled. “I’ll assume that means it passes the taste test.”

“Oh, yeah. In fact, I’d better take a box of those home with me tonight.”

“Speaking of home...how is it going living in the house alone?”

“It’s not that bad.” Which was a lie. She hated eating dinner by herself in the silent kitchen. She couldn’t turn on the TV because it made her think of Hawksley. At night she had trouble falling asleep and when she did, had awful dreams about that day on the ridge.

“Are you sure? Mattie called last night and we got to wondering if we were being selfish asking you to stay at the ranch just so we could have one last Christmas there.”

“I don’t think you were being selfish. It’s your home, too. But I hope you’ll help me get it ready for Christmas.” The idea of putting up lights and decorating a tree on her own made her feel super-depressed.

“We definitely will,” Sage promised. “Dawson, Savannah and I will come over and make a party of it. So don’t you worry about Christmas. But I am wondering what you want to do about Thanksgiving. Last night Mattie said she’d like us all to go to her and Nat’s place. What do you think? Might be fun.”

Callan had never seen the Double D Ranch, but from all accounts it was quite the showplace. Most other times she would have jumped at the offer for a tour and to spend more time with her family. But she wasn’t sure she had the mental energy for a trip right now. “Maybe. I appreciate the invite.”

Sage looked at her with obvious worry in her eyes. But she didn’t press the point.

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omputerizing the financial records of the Circle C ranch preoccupied Court’s evenings for the next three weeks. He worked on them from the time he finished his dinner until after midnight without a break.

The project took over the cabin. Stacks of paper and banker boxes were on chairs, in corners, and all over the kitchen table and counters.

Hawksley had been a terrible record-keeper. Invoices and receipts weren’t categorized, the bank balance was never reconciled and sometimes the only record of a transaction Court could find was a note on the back of a discarded envelope.

Fortunately Hawksley had been smart enough to hire a qualified accountant to do his taxes, or God only knew what sort of mess he’d be in with Internal Revenue. Plus, payroll was handled through the bank, so employee deductions weren’t a problem, either.