Darn Good Cowboy Christmas (5 page)

“Come over sometime and I'll get out the cards and do a real reading for you. I might even put on my costume and dance for you,” she said.

“Still not biting!” He waved over his shoulder.

She finished her tea and tossed a couple of bills on the table for a tip. She'd planned to grab a hamburger at the Dairy Queen and hit Walmart for supplies when she left Ringgold that morning. But she'd seen the café on the west side of the highway as she came into town, and there were two police cars as well as dozens of trucks in the parking lot. Any place where ranchers and police both ate had to be good, and she had not been disappointed. Besides, she'd just had lunch with Raylen.

She fished her phone from her purse and punched in the first number on speed dial. Blaze picked up on the first ring.

“Hey, so was I right? Are you on your way home?” he asked.

“Hell, no, you weren't right and you had no right to yell at me. But I couldn't wait for you to stop sulking to tell you about Raylen.” She laughed and went on to tell him about Raylen being there and the past two days. “And I've got a job starting in the morning.”

“You won't last,” Blaze said. “Some people are born to be still. Others to travel. Me and you are travelers, sweetheart.”

“Want to bet?” she asked.

“No, I don't want to take your money. You're goin' to need it to buy a trailer.”

“I'm hanging up on that note. Good-bye, Blaze,” she said.

“Bye, sweetheart,” he said.

A warm wind blew up from the south, swirling leaves around her truck tires. Black birds hopped around in search of free food but found very little. Liz wished she'd tucked the leftover corn bread into her purse to give them. Next time she'd remember that they were there.

She opened the door to the Silverado truck and slid into the driver's seat. She put in a Christmas CD called
Now That's What I Call a Country Christmas
that she'd gotten the year before. Kellie Pickler made Liz smile when she sang “Santa Baby” and talked about her Christmas list. Liz's list wasn't long. Maybe, just maybe, Santa would have time to throw that last item in the sleigh and she'd get her cowboy by Christmas.

She'd gone through the house and made a list of household items along with dog food, cat food, and laundry detergent. It would be strange to wash clothes at home. Monday morning was wash time in their carnival business. The crew tore down the carnival, got the animals into the trucks, and got everything ready to roll to the next location. Those who weren't busy with that job used the time to visit the local coin operated laundry. Tuesday and Wednesday were travel days, with the hopes of arriving at their next gig sometime before dark on Wednesday. From the time they pulled into the parking lot, pasture, or wherever they were paid to set up, a flurry of activity took place to get things ready for the opening night, which was usually Thursday. Then it was nonstop work until Sunday evening when they turned off the lights and started tearing down again.

Laundry day was the day that Liz had time to look through magazines. Even if they were years old, she loved poring over the pictures of the insides of houses, especially the before and after ones. Now she had a house of her own and she could redo it any way she wanted. But other than moving around the furniture, she wasn't sure she wanted to do anything at all to the house.

She talked to herself as she drove. “Nothing other than decorate it for Christmas with twinkling lights and lots of stuff. Plain old Christmas stuff that I can keep from one year to the next. I don't care if I have a whole room full of it. Right now there are two empty bedrooms and I can store it all there.”

Walmart was all the way across town, but she wasn't in a big hurry so she drove slowly, taking a long look at the storefronts. She'd been in Bowie once a year ever since she was born. She knew where the grocery store was located, right along with Walmart, the old location and the new one, the laundry, and the Dairy Queen. Aside from that, until that day, nothing else mattered. But now she noticed a couple of furniture stores, a western wear store, banks, and several other places that looked interesting.

She snagged a parking place close to the door and checked the price of gas. It was two cents cheaper at the place next to Walmart than in town so she made a mental note to fill up before she left town. Tomorrow, she'd get up early and go to work at Jasmine's Chicken Fried café, but that afternoon she took her time in the store, looking at the new fall shirts and jackets before she started filling her cart with items from her list.

She didn't even see Becca until their carts came within an inch of crashing together as she rounded the end of an aisle and came face-to-face with her.

“Well, hello again, Libby,” Becca said.

“It's Liz, not Libby. And hello to you,” Liz said.

Becca leaned on her overloaded cart filled with large bags of dog food. “So you all moved into Haskell's place?”

Liz pushed her cart to one side. “Yes, I am. It was nice seeing you again, Becca.”

Becca reached out and grabbed the side of the cart. “Sure you don't want to sell?”

Liz shook her head. “I'm very sure. It's not even mine until spring. Uncle Haskell is letting me live there, but I still have the option of changing my mind.”

“And if you stay?” Becca asked.

“Then it's my property,” Liz said.

Blaze would like Becca for sure. He tended to go for women with blond hair and green eyes, and he really liked tall, tough women who dressed like Becca. Blaze and Becca… it even sounded good together. She fit all the criteria, but Blaze didn't stick with anyone more than a week or two, so the bubble in her imagination about Becca running off to help in a carnival burst with a loud bang.

“So what kind of work do you do?” Becca asked.

Becca was being downright nosy and it didn't sit well with Liz, who was tempted to blurt out her whole life story just to watch Becca's jaw hit the floor.

“Right now I'm going to work as a waitress at the Chicken Fried café for Jasmine. I start work in the morning,” Liz answered.

“How long have you known Raylen?” Becca asked.

Now
we
get
to
the
real
reason
she's created this cart wreck in the middle of the store. I would do the same thing for Blaze.

“If you count from the first time we met, about fifteen years. But I'd only seen him twice before I moved into Uncle Haskell's house,” Liz said.

Aunt Tressa's advice was loud and clear in her mind.
Keep
a
poker
face
and
don't give away jack shit. Watch their expressions and you'll learn enough to give you a good reading.

Becca cocked her head to one side and frowned.
Confusion. Disbelief.

Liz turned the tables and watched Becca's expressions. “So you went to school with him and you have always lived in this area?”

“That's right. Raylen and I have roots that go deep,” Becca said. At the mention of his name her eyes should have lit up like a tilt-a-whirl, but they didn't. Her mouth said words; her eyes didn't back them up.

“Well, I'd better be going. I've got a ton of work to do before work time tomorrow morning,” Liz said.

Becca didn't move her cart.

“Waitress, huh?” She smiled again.
Pure
happiness.
Evidently she figured Raylen would never be interested in a waitress.

“That's right. You ever eat at Chicken Fried?” Liz asked.

“Oh, yeah. Love Jasmine's food. She has chocolate cream pie on Friday, so that's my regular day. Raylen loves it. He and Dewar usually drop by on that day. Raylen is a chicken fried steak guy and Dewar likes Jasmine's double cheeseburgers,” Becca said.

Happiness
brings
about
confidence,
Aunt Tressa said.
Confidence
loosens
the
tongue, and that's when you keep your mouth shut and listen.

Liz nodded. “Maybe I'll see you there at the end of the week, then.”

An upward tilt of the chin said she'd won the fight. “Oh, I'm sure you will. Raylen and I eat there pretty often.”

Liz pushed her cart to the right and disappeared around the end of the next aisle as quickly as possible.

“Well, hello,” Colleen said.

Liz flashed a brilliant smile but inside she was groaning. All she did was eat lunch with Raylen. It wasn't even a date. She'd paid for her own dinner and simply sat with him. Why did she feel like she was being punished?

Colleen studied her like she was a bug under a microscope. “I hear you had lunch with my brother.”

Liz tried to keep a blank expression like she'd been taught, but it was impossible.

Colleen shrugged. “He called to tell me to pick up a few things since I'm already here.”

“Well, rats! If I'd known you were shopping for the neighborhood, I'd have called you with my list,” Liz teased.

Colleen shook her head. “It's only because he's my brother that he can weasel me into getting him dish soap and a bag of potatoes. Anything more and he'd be in here himself.”

“Well, I've got to get back to the pet aisle. See you around,” Liz said.

“You take that job at Jasmine's place?” Colleen asked.

Liz nodded.

“You always been a waitress?”

“Of sorts.”

“Where?” Colleen asked.

“All over the state of Texas, some in Oklahoma, and over in Arkansas. We traveled a lot.” Liz pushed her cart past Colleen's and hurried to the back of the store.

Her phone rang when she was safely hidden in the aisle with the pet food. She dug it out of her purse, saw that it was her mother, and pushed the button to answer it.

“Hello, Momma,” she said.

“We're on the move. Next stop is Bells, Texas. You always liked that little town. Why don't you meet us there and give up this notion of living like the rest of the world?”

“After only two days? No, thank you. Besides, I've got a job. I'm going to work at the Chicken Fried café in the morning.” Liz picked up a dozen cans of fancy cat food and put them in her cart.

“Doing what?” Marva Jo asked.

“Waitress for minimum wage,” Liz told her.

Marva Jo laughed so loud that Liz held the phone out from her ear.

“What's so funny?”

Marva hiccupped. “Now I know you'll come home to the carnival where you belong. You doing waitress work… girl, you haven't worked for that kind of money since you were fourteen. I couldn't have asked for a better job to teach you a lesson.”

“I don't need the money, so it doesn't matter,” Liz argued.

“Okay, let's talk about the cowboy next door. Did you tell him that you don't have to work, that you have an inheritance big enough to buy his piece of Texas dirt?” Marva changed the subject.

“I had lunch with him. And yesterday I went to his parent's house for Sunday dinner and music afterwards. And no, I didn't tell him anything about money. Why would I? I don't think it would be right to say, ‘Hey, Raylen, I'm rich.' But he did damn near beat me in a fiddlin' contest,” Liz said.

“Dammit!” Marva Jo exclaimed.

“Is that not as funny as the minimum wage?” Liz asked.

“No, it is not! You slow that wagon down, girl. You know very well that you don't belong with a
gadjo
.”

Liz sucked in a lung full of air and got ready for the age old argument. “We are carnies, not gypsies. You married a
gadjo
. So what's to say if I fall in love with a
gadjo
that it…”

Aunt Tressa butted into the conversation. “Don't argue with your momma, and learn from her mistakes. She married a
gadjo
and it did not work. I don't care if you grow potatoes and marry a dirt farmer, but you will be nice to your momma. She misses you and wants you to come back where you belong. And Haskell might have mentioned that his niece has a nice big bank account, so be sure that
gadjo
isn't angling for more than twenty acres of tumbleweeds and chiggers.”

“You riding with her, are you? And Raylen isn't that kind of man. If he loved a woman he wouldn't care if she had a dime or a million dollars,” Liz said.

“Yes, I am, and you can't out-argue two old gypsy gals, so give it up.”

“I'm hanging up and getting my shopping finished. Love you both. Oh, oh! I see the Christmas aisle. Can't wait to see you next month. I'm putting up the Christmas tree early so you can see it.”

Liz unloaded all her purchases, which included three bags of Christmas ornaments for her tree. She laid them on the kitchen table and admired each and every one of the bright shiny bells and balls. She'd looked at a six-foot tree but couldn't make up her mind whether to get a tall skinny one or one of those huge fat ones. She left the kitchen and looked at the living room. If she scooted the sofa back, there would be plenty of room for a big, round tree with lots and lots of ornaments and a star on top.

She put her hand on her cheek and drew her eyes down, envisioning a real cedar tree in the spot. No, as long as she planned to leave a tree up, a real one would be entirely too messy. She went back to the kitchen and was stacking cans of cat and dog food in the pantry when the phone rang. Thinking it was her mother and Tressa again, she ignored it, but when it started again after less than a minute interval she fished it out of her purse.

“Hello,” she said.

“Hey, kid. Thought I'd check on Hooter and Blister. I forgot to tell you that their vet papers are in the drawer beside the refrigerator. Hooter will need his shots in February and Blister gets hers in March,” Haskell said.

“Okay, guess what? I bought ornaments for my Christmas tree today and there's plenty of room for me to store them, and do you have a fake tree hiding somewhere or did you cut a real one every year, and…”

“Whoa!” Haskell laughed. “Slow down, Lizelle! You know how Sara liked Christmas, or maybe you didn't since you were so little. Them days, I always cut a real tree. But the last few years, I just put up a little bought one because the real ones shed so bad. Can't keep enough water in the pan to keep them happy.”

“That's what I figured. I'm going to buy a big one and I'm going to have a house that puts the stars to shame,” she said.

Haskell laughed. “Then, darlin', go out to the barn and look in the tack room and the loft. There's surprises out there for you.”

“What barn?” Liz asked.

“The one behind the house.”

“I thought that was O'Donnell property.”

Haskell laughed again. “Kind of hard to picture twenty acres when you've lived in a trailer your whole life, isn't it?”

“I figured it went from fence to fence after I left the highway and then to the back side of the yard,” she said.

“You're right until you get to the back side of the yard. Now go on back to the barn and then to the fence back behind that. Then you've got twenty acres. The Christmas stuff is in boxes, and they are all marked.”

Liz squealed. “You mean I've got a whole barn to put stuff in? I may go back to Walmart this afternoon.”

“So you like it there?” Haskell asked.

“Been here two days and I'm not ready to run yet,” she said. “And I go to work tomorrow morning.”

“Lizelle, you don't have to work,” Haskell said.

“I know, but I want to. It'll get me acquainted with more folks than the O'Donnells. Did I tell you that I had Sunday dinner with them yesterday and I played my fiddle and Raylen and I had a contest? I beat that cowboy, but his grandma called it a tie,” she said.

Haskell chuckled again. “They are good people, the O'Donnells. Been fine neighbors all these years. Raise some of the best horses in the whole state. You could be ridin' horses, exercising them for the O'Donnells instead of working at a café,” he said.

“But I want to work at the café. I can't wait. It's going to be so much fun,” Liz said.

“How's Blister and Hooter?” Haskell changed the subject.

“Spoiled and I'm making them even worse. How are you doing out there, Uncle Haskell? Tell me the truth.”

“Much better than I thought. Dad and I are getting along and looking forward to the girls being here a couple of months. We're cleaning up the big barn so we can pull in a trailer at a time and do some serious repainting and repair. He's excited about all three of us being here together and he's even considering letting me underpin his trailer before serious winter sets in.”

“Wow! That's a miracle.” Liz breathed a very quiet sigh of relief. Uncle Haskell sounded busy and happy so he wouldn't want his land and house back in the spring, hopefully!

“I thought so too, but he's minding the cold more since he's older and I told him it would make his trailer warmer. Got to go now. I see him headed out to the repair barn. If I don't get out there soon, he'll do too much.”

She barely had time to utter “love you” before Haskell cut the connection. She hurried to the kitchen window and looked out at the barn… her barn. She couldn't wait to snoop around, so she rushed back to her bedroom, kicked off her shoes, stomped her feet down into cowboy boots, and grabbed her denim jacket.

“Merry Christmas to me,” she sang as she headed out the back door toward the big metal barn. Not only did she have a house without wheels, she had a barn, which meant that she didn't have to be careful about what she hauled onto the place because she had tons of storage room. Hell's bells, she could park the carnie trailer that she'd lived in her entire life inside that big building and have room left over.

She slid the door back and the smell of hay, feed, and leather all hit her nose at the same time. She'd grown up accustomed to that odor, only it came from a small pen where the riding ponies were kept. They'd had Shetland ponies when she was a little girl, but as they got too old for the carnival, Tressa had replaced them with Gypsy Vanner horses, and Liz had fallen in love with them. The extra tuft of hair on their feet made them look like they were flying when they pranced.

“I could have some right here. I could breed Gypsy Vanners and have baby colts. There's plenty of room for a pair.” She wandered through the big building, discovering a riding lawn mower and a small tractor. And a momma cat with a litter of kittens hid in the back corner, but they were all so wild that she couldn't get near them.

Located in the northeast corner of the barn, the tack room was about the size of her living room. Shelves lined the walls, and the leather smell overpowered the hay and feed smell when she opened the door. Boxes of every size and shape were shoved in the shelves and were labeled in Haskell's spidery handwriting.

She pulled an old ladder-back chair with chipped paint over from the table where Haskell repaired and cleaned saddles, bits, and bridles. She hopped up on it and grabbed the first box she could reach. It wasn't heavy, but when she moved it the dust flew into her hair, her nose, and eyes. Once the box was on the table she opened it with a knife she found on a bottom shelf.

The squeal rivaled the one when she found out the barn was hers. Inside the box she found old-fashioned Christmas lights. The kind with big, multicolored bulbs, and they had been wrapped carefully around a cardboard tube. She wouldn't even have to waste hours and hours untangling them when she got ready to put them up.

“Bless your heart,” Liz said as she looked up to see dozens of other boxes marked Christmas.

The next one she removed very gently so the dust didn't gag or blind her. It held more lights, as did the third, fourth, and fifth ones. The sixth one was filled with ornaments wrapped individually in newspaper. She undid each one, lining them up on the table as she did. The next one had a nativity scene that would look lovely on the mantel, just like she'd imagined.

“It's Christmas before Christmas,” she said.

***

Glorious Danny Boy, a solid black quarter horse, pulled at the reins, but Raylen kept him to a steady trot the first time around the pasture. Danny Boy had put the O'Donnell Horse Ranch on the map that year, and when Maddie and Cash won the title again the next year with Major Jack, it became famous. Nowadays, Maddie and Cash raised horses but didn't race them. Glorious Danny Boy and Major Jack had such sought after bloodlines that she was particular about what mares she'd even allowed to carry one of their colts. And each year, she sold half a dozen of her own prize colts sired by Danny Boy or Jack.

Raylen finally gave the big black stud enough rein to let him gallop around the pasture.

“Feel like you are back in the race, do you?” Raylen asked.

Danny Boy slowed down to a slow walk and went straight for the pasture fence. He neighed and several mares raised their heads.

“Checkin' on your harem? I can barely keep up with one woman at a time, old man.” Raylen chuckled.

He hooked a leg over the saddle horn and let Danny Boy visit with his women for a spell while he thought of Liz. He remembered Wil telling him about the night his wife, Pearl, convinced him that her full name was Minnie Pearl Richland.

“Nice try, Liz Hanson. You might be a carnie but belly dancin'? Come on, lady, I didn't just fall off the hay wagon, and you are not going to snooker me like Pearl did Wil,” he said.

Was Liz's last name Hanson? Haskell's last name was Hanson, so it stood to reason that her mother and aunt were Hansons. But if her mother was married, then Liz's name wouldn't be Hanson. She hadn't mentioned a father, not even when she was trying to make him believe that bunch of bullshit about belly dancing.

“I bet if I'd said I'd be over at six thirty for a belly dancin' demonstration she would have backtracked, by damn,” he said.

Danny Boy took a step backwards. His mares were all fine and there was a fence between him and them so he was ready to run some more. Raylen had just made the second round in the pasture when he noticed the barn door over at Haskell's place was wide open. He reined in and dismounted.

“My turn,” he told the horse as he looped the reins to the rail fence.

He jumped the fence and was almost to the barn when he heard a squeal. He picked up the pace and followed the next scream to the tack room. It was most likely fear of a mouse, but it could be that she'd fallen or hurt herself. He slung open the door to find her with half a dozen open boxes surrounding her on the floor as well as on the table.

“Liz, are you okay?” he asked.

She jumped and squealed again. “Dammit! Raylen, you scared the hell out of me.”

“Well, you scared me. I heard you yelp and thought you were hurt,” he said.

“It was excitement, not hurt,” she said. “I found all these gorgeous old decorations so I can make my house pretty for Christmas. Want to help me?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Tonight?”

“No, but before Thanksgiving. Momma and Aunt Tressa are coming the week before Thanksgiving and I want it decorated by then.” She held up a gold ornament to glitter in the light from the window.

“Sure,” he said.

“What are you doing over here? Have you been riding?”

“Exercising horses. That's my afternoon job several days a week. Why? Do I smell like a horse?”

“Little bit. I'll trade off help. You help me get my house decorated by the time my family gets here, and after Thanksgiving I'll help you exercise the horses. I love horses.”

“You ride?” That was as believable as belly dancing.

She laid her ornaments to the side. “Our carnival has pony rides for the kids. We used to have Shetlands, but now we have Gypsy Vanners. Ever heard of them? I ride in the winter months every single day. And Poppa has bigger horses out on the property, the ones that we can't use for the carnival but he can't bring himself to sell. So, yes, I ride.”

He threw up his palms. “Sorry I doubted you. And yes, I've heard of Gypsy Vanners. Dewar could talk for hours about Vanner horses. He's been buggin' Momma to invest in a pair, but she won't have none of it. She told him if he wanted to play with the fancy horses then to go ahead, but to keep them on his property. And I'll take you up on that offer. I'll help decorate the house if you'll help me exercise the horses,” Raylen said.

“Good. Dewar will have to come to the carnival and see Aunt Tressa's four Vanners. They're spoiled rotten, and she treats them like babies.”

Liz's pulse picked up the tempo and her hands began to sweat. If Raylen O'Donnell knew how many times she'd whispered his name in the past eleven years, he'd scoot right back across the fence and never come back. Back when she was fourteen she'd wanted him to kiss her so bad that she dreamed about it. And now the feeling was back with all the ache and pain that went with it.

Raylen leaned on the edge of the table and pretended interest in the boxes. But what really made his blood race was Liz in those cowboy boots and snug fitting jeans. She'd been dressed like that when they were both teenagers that fall when he'd exercised Major Jack, getting him ready for the big race. He'd wanted to be a jockey but even though he was the shortest O'Donnell brother at five feet ten inches, he was still too big to qualify as a jockey. But what he'd wanted more than that was to show off for the pretty girl who hung on the fence rail and watched him. Her eyes had mesmerized him even then, and he'd wanted so badly to taste those sexy lips.

“Well, I left my horse out back, tied up to the fence. Saw the barn door open and thought I'd better check on things,” Raylen said.

Liz moved around the table. “I'll walk with you. Is it the same horse you rode back when we were kids?”

He nodded.

She fell into step beside him. “Uncle Haskell said y'all have two over there that folks stand in line to get a chance at their bloodlines. He told me their names but I forgot.”

“Glorious Danny Boy. That'd be him right there.” Raylen pointed. “And Major Jack. They both won the Texas Heritage Stakes and made the ranch what it is today. O'Donnell Ranch has a dozen blue blooded mares that Momma and Daddy use to raise colts from those two. She's got a long list of folks interested in buying a colt from either one of them.”

Liz reached up and ran her hand down the length of his nose and he nuzzled her hair.

“He's a beauty,” she said.

“You like horses, do you?”