One Imperfect Christmas (23 page)

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Authors: Myra Johnson

Tags: #Contemporary Women, #Fiction

BOOK: One Imperfect Christmas
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“Wow, that was fun!” Lissa reached down to stroke Windy's brown-spotted withers. “What a ride, old girl!”

 

“Fun for you, maybe.” Natalie took several panting breaths and tried to subdue the tremors coursing through her entire body. “You scared me half to death.”

 

“Oh, Mom, get over it.” The laughter in Lissa's eyes faded, and she turned her horse down the hill toward the woods.

 

“You could have been hurt.” Her voice sounded hoarse from the remnants of fear. Natalie's heart still pounded as she followed her daughter across the meadow.

 

Lissa gave an exaggerated shrug. “And who told me to use the crop, huh?”

 

“And didn't I say a 'light tap,'
huh?
” Natalie swallowed down the lump in her throat. “I was coming to lead you across, if only you'd waited.”

 

Lissa twisted sideways in her saddle until she was looking straight at Natalie. Her glare could have melted the polar icecap. “If I wait around for you to fix things, nothing will ever happen.” Tossing her blonde braid, she spurred Windy into a canter and headed toward the trail through the woods.

 

Natalie could do nothing but follow and hope Rocky's knees—and her backside—held up.

 

 

Daniel shoved his gloved hands deeper into the pockets of his fleece jacket. The chilly December air nipped at him through the open barn door and gave him one more reason he wished he'd stayed home. He watched Hart saddle up a fat, shaggy brown horse that looked as if he'd much rather munch on a pile of hay or take a long snooze—anything but haul some city slicker in sweats and sneakers out on a trail ride.

 

“I can't believe I let you talk me into this.”

 

Hart slanted him a crooked smile. “I didn't exactly twist your arm.” He gave the cinch one last tug before finishing off a Western knot.

 

Daniel reached for the dusty white schooling helmet Hart had found for him and brushed off the top with his sleeve. “Yes, you did. You twisted pretty hard, actually.”

 

“So sue me. Look, you know I don't like to stick my nose into other people's business,” Hart said as he adjusted the stirrup length, “but you're family, and Christmas is coming, and I hate to see you left out in the cold.”

 

“What are you trying to say, Hart?”

 

“I just felt really bad that you didn't come out for Nat's birthday dinner. You should have been there. You had a right to be there.”

 

“No, I didn't.” He turned the helmet in his hands and fingered the buckle. “Natalie wouldn't have wanted me there. That was reason enough to stay away.”

 

Hart released a humorless chuckle. “Don't you get it, man? She
did
want you there. The whole family could see it in her eyes. It hurt her that you didn't come, and not just because you didn't bring Lissa.”

 

His brother-in-law's words seared his heart. Natalie missed him? He'd never have guessed, especially considering the way last night ended. One more argument, one more ruined evening, one more lost chance to set things right.

 

“I had no idea,” he said at last.

 

“I kind of figured.” Hart gave a soft, sad chuckle. “But I'd have thought after your date last night, you might at least have a clue.”

 

“How many ways do I have to say this? It
wasn't
a date.”

 

“And Natalie agrees with you.” Hart walked around the horse for another tack inspection. “But your daughter refuses to be convinced.”

 

That kid. He'd have to straighten things out with her eventually. He couldn't let her continue living on false hope. Now, if he could only convince his brother-in-law. “You realize Natalie will figure out you put me up to this.”

 

“Big deal. Besides, I did it as much for Dad as for you and Natalie.” Hart's teasing grin faded. “You know what a tough Christmas this is going to be for him. It could be so much better if you and my sister would get back together.”

 

“And you don't think that's what I want?”

 

“Then quit stalling and do something about it.” Hart positioned himself at the sleepy-eyed horse's head, one hand on the reins. “Here, need a leg up?”

 

Daniel glared at his brother-in-law and uttered a defeated moan before gripping the saddle horn with his left hand. “I think I can make it. He's pretty short.”

 

Setting one foot in the stirrup, he heaved himself off the ground and dropped into the scuffed, worn Western saddle with a thud. The horse gave a long, low rumble.

 

“Same to you.” Daniel wriggled his rear into a more comfortable position. “Blame it on the guy holding your bridle.”

 

Hart passed him the knotted leather reins. “You remember how to steer? Pokey's a neck-reiner. Shouldn't give you any problems.”

 

“Pokey, huh? Hope he lives up to his name.”

 

“Slow as molasses … except he can be a little spooky about sudden noises. Shouldn't be a problem on a nice afternoon like this, though.” Hart frowned and rubbed his chin. “But if you're not home by dark, just hang on, okay?”

 

Daniel gripped the saddle horn reflexively. “Why, exactly?”

 

“Because if you're not back at the barn by suppertime, you'll see just how fast a hungry old cow pony can move.”

 

“Gotcha.” Unwilling to let go of the saddle horn, Daniel gave a clumsy thumbs-up sign with his reining hand. “Okay, now that you've finagled this little rendezvous, which way to Natalie and Lissa?”

 

Hart directed him out the rear barn door and down the lane towards the stream crossing. “They've been out awhile, so you'll probably run into them before long. If not, just follow the trail to the woods.”

 

Pokey's slow, plodding gait soon banished the last of Daniel's nervousness. He barely even had to rein. The horse seemed perfectly content to wander at will along the well-traveled path. At the stream, Pokey didn't even lift his head, just splashed through the rippling water and up the other side as if he were sleepwalking.

 

“Atta boy.” Daniel reached forward to pat the furry brown neck. “You take care of me, and I'll take care of you. I bet I can beg an apple or a carrot or two from Bram once we get back to the barn.”

 

As they crested the hill, he glimpsed two riders trotting in his direction. Strands of blonde hair—the woman's short and wispy, the girl's a long, unraveling braid—had blown loose from beneath sleek black helmets. Daniel reined Pokey to a halt near a scraggly pine tree, and the pudgy gelding obeyed with a thankful grunt. Watching his wife and daughter approach, Daniel found himself struck silent by their grace and skill. Natalie's rising trot appeared as smooth and controlled as any pro he'd ever seen on TV's Olympics coverage. When Lissa swerved Windy to her left and sailed over a fallen log, she could have been a blonde Elizabeth Taylor from the classic movie
National Velvet
.

 

Lost in the moment, his heart bursting with love and pride, Daniel let out a spontaneous whoop. “All right, Lissa!”

 

In the same instant, Pokey shot his head up, pinned his ears, and sped off at a gallop. Panic froze Daniel's brain. Dropping the reins, he seized the saddle horn with both hands and held on for all he was worth. “Oh, no! Whoa, boy,
whoa!

 


Daniel!
” Natalie cried.

 

In his terror-filled stupor he saw Lissa canter up beside Natalie. “I don't believe it,” he heard his daughter yell. “Is that
Dad?

 

Pokey raced straight toward the other horses, with Daniel's world flashing by like a video on fast-forward. As Pokey barreled between Rocky and Windy, Daniel gathered his senses enough to shout, “Help! What do I do?”

 

“Grab the reins, you idiot!” Natalie yelled.

 

He heard their horses' hooves thundering behind him— catching up quickly, he could only hope. Surely a fat little horse like Pokey couldn't run
that
fast … or that far.

 

Why hadn't he remembered Hart's warning about loud noises?

 

Reins … reins.
They had to be down there somewhere. Releasing one hand from the saddle horn, he raked his fingers along the bushy mane until he found the leather knot. He grabbed it and yanked backward with all his strength.

 

Pokey's sudden stop almost threw him over the horse's head. The saddle horn jammed into his gut. He gasped in agony, the breath almost knocked from him.

 

“You stupid horse, you could have killed me!”

 

The now docile equine twitched his ears and leaned down to grab a mouthful of the bright green winter rye grass growing on the hillside.

 

“Way to go, Dad!” Lissa cantered over and halted beside him. “I haven't seen you ride like that in a long, long time.”

 

“And I hope you never do again.” Still struggling for air, he hauled in several deep breaths. His stomach felt like he'd been slugged with a baseball bat.

 

Natalie reached across to tousle Pokey's forelock. “What on earth are you doing out here, Daniel?”

 

“I, uh … ” Embarrassment quickly swallowed up the bitter remnants of abject terror. Why, exactly, had Hart thought this was such a good idea? Making a complete fool of himself while risking life and limb certainly wasn't part of the original plan. He drew his shoulders up and gathered what dignity he had left. “It was a nice afternoon and I, uh, I just thought … ”

 

Natalie's gaze narrowed. She sat straight in the saddle and rested her hands on the pommel. “You just thought what?”

 

Lissa nosed Windy up beside her mother on Rocky. “Obviously, he heard we were riding today and wanted to spend time with you.” She beamed a triumphant smile toward Daniel. “Isn't that right, Dad?”

 

Natalie cast her daughter a withering look. “Lissa, please.”

 

Daniel gulped. “Well, I … ”

 

“No use denying it, you two.” Lissa let out a high-pitched giggle. “So have a nice ride, and I'll see you guys at the barn!” Thumping Windy with the riding crop, she raced down the hill toward the stream and disappeared from view.

 

The silence she left behind was deafening.

 

Daniel's breath whistled out through clenched teeth. “Uh, this is awkward.”

 

Her gaze still fixed on the horizon, Natalie gave her head a small shake. “Poor Windy only thought she was in line for retirement. The old gal hasn't been ridden this hard since before … ” Her voice trailed off. Tucking a strand of tangled hair beneath her helmet strap, she turned to Daniel with a knowing frown. “Hart put you up to this, didn't he?”

 

He rubbed the saddle horn imprint on his abdomen and figured there'd be an ugly purple bruise there by the time he got home. “What was your first clue?”

 

She nodded toward the drowsing brown horse. “You obviously didn't catch and saddle Pokey all on your own.”

 

His pride stung. He squared his shoulders. “What makes you so sure?”

 

“Well, for one thing, you don't catch Pokey in the paddock unless you tempt him with at least three or four carrots. He may be fat and lazy, but he doesn't like to work and can scurry away from a halter and lead rope faster than you can say, 'Giddy-up.' “

 

“Okay, so Hart helped me … a little.”

 

She smirked. “How about a lot?”

 

“I just stood there and watched. Does that make you feel better?”

 

The gentle softening around Natalie's eyes made the whole dreadful experience worthwhile.
Almost. “
Are you sure you're okay?” Tenderness laced her tone. “You still look a little pale.”

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