A Cowboy Family Christmas

All I’ve ever wanted was to fall in love and get married, but now my heart is broken, and my life is a wreck.

“Tell me about it,” Lainie muttered. Well, not the broken heart. She’d gone out with Craig only three times, but the rest of it sounded pretty darned familiar.

Then, a few weeks ago, a woman who works at John’s office started hitting on him and lured him away from me.

Lainie leaned back in the chair and shook her head. From the comments left on the YouTube video of her that night at the Houston hotel, it seemed everyone in the rodeo world thought she’d targeted a married man and tried to lure him away.

During the blowup, his wife had told him off, implying that he was a serial cheater, a secret he apparently kept from his legion of fans.

“Aw, come on,” Lainie scolded herself. “Focus on this woman, this letter, this problem.”

Yet how could she? She was the last person in the world who should offer romantic advice to anyone, let alone a stranger who hoped for an easy fix.

Darn it. No matter how badly she’d wanted a job at the Gazette—and she needed one if she wanted to support herself—she’d been crazy to agree to taking over for Dear Debbie.

Footsteps sounded in the doorway, drawing her from her reading. She glanced up to see Otis “Sully” Sullivan enter the kitchen. The sweet, kindhearted old man had a jolly way about him. Each time she laid eyes on the retired cowboy, she couldn’t help but smile. With a head of thick white hair and a full beard, he reminded her of Santa Claus, especially today when he wore a solid red flannel shirt.

“Hey, Sully.”

“I’m sorry to bother you, but is there any more coffee?”

Lainie set aside the letter she’d been reading, pushed back her chair and got to her feet. “It’s no bother at all. And you’re in luck. There’s still at least a cup left.”

She poured the last of the carafe into a white mug. “I could make a fresh pot.”

“No need for you to go to any extra trouble.” Sully took the mug she gave him, gripping it with gnarled hands, and thanked her. “That was a nice breakfast you fixed us today. I haven’t had good chilaquiles in a long time. My late wife used to make them for me every Sunday morning, but she usually overcooked them.”

Lainie laughed. “Did she? How were mine?”

“Best I’ve ever had. Nice, crispy tortillas. Perfectly scrambled eggs. Mmm, mmm, mmm.”

Lainie beamed at the compliment. She wasn’t used to getting many. “Thanks, I’m glad you liked them. When I was a little girl, my grandmother used to make them for me and my sister.”

“You got a sister?”

“Yes, a twin.”

Sully brightened. “Where is she?”

Lainie had no idea. The two of them had been separated years ago, when Lainie had been taken from the group home and sent to the hospital to be treated for an undetected congenital heart defect. It had taken a while for the doctors to decide upon a treatment plan, and by the time Lainie recovered from her lifesaving surgery, a couple arrived at the children’s home, adopted the healthy girl and left the sickly one behind. From what Lainie had gathered, her sister’s new parents had been afraid to assume financial responsibility of a child with such serious medical issues.

As a result, she hadn’t seen her twin since, but she offered Sully the happy outcome she’d imagined for Erica. “She’s happily married to her high school sweetheart and has a two-year-old daughter.”

Before Sully could press further, Lainie turned the conversation back to the chilaquiles. “Anyway, my grandmother passed away before she could pass on her recipe. But when I got older, I did some research and a little experimenting until I came up with a batch that tasted nearly as good as hers. I hope they weren’t too spicy.”

“No,” he said, “not at all. The salsa was perfect. In fact, that was one of the tastiest meals I’ve had since I moved in here. Not that Joy, our regular cook, isn’t a good one, but she’s more of a down-home, meat-and-potatoes gal. And I like good Mexican food once in a while.”

“That’s a relief. I knew I’d have some big shoes to fill, taking Joy’s place in the kitchen while she’s on her honeymoon.”

“I haven’t heard any complaints yet. And that’s saying a lot, considering some of the old geezers who live here. They rarely keep their opinions to themselves.” Sully glanced at the letters on the table. “I didn’t mean to bother you. I’ll just take my coffee into the living room and let you get back to whatever it was you were doing.”

“Actually, I don’t mind the interruption.” Although she really should. With each tick and tock of the kitchen clock, her midnight deadline drew closer. And who knew if the ranch internet would work? She might have to drive into town and find Wi-Fi somewhere. Darn it.

“You look fretful, which doesn’t do your pretty face any good. What’s bothering you?” Sully nodded toward the stack of letters. “I hope it isn’t bad news.”

“It’s just...a friend with a problem.” Lainie chewed her fingernail and stared at the pile of unanswered letters. “I’m trying to come up with some wise advice, but I’m not feeling very wise.”

Sully’s smile softened the lines in his craggy face. “Wisdom comes with age and experience. Back when I was in my twenties, heck, thirties, too, I was under the false notion that I was as smart as I’d ever get.”

Lainie had thought the same thing after her college graduation, which wasn’t very long ago. Then Craig had taken her for a ride, leaving her with an unearned bad reputation and distrustful of sweet-talking men who couldn’t tell the truth to save their souls. She’d learned a big lesson the hard way, but that hadn’t made her an expert at facing romantic dilemmas.

“Want me to give it a shot?” Sully asked.

Was he offering his advice? Lainie wasn’t sure what the dear old man might have to say, but at this point, she’d take all the help she could get. “Sure, if you don’t mind.”

Sully pulled out a chair, took a seat and rested his steaming hot mug on the table. “What’s the problem?”

Lainie scanned the opening of the letter and caught him up to speed, revealing that her “friend” was twenty-four years old, relatively nice-looking with a decent job and a good sense of humor. Then she read the rest of it out loud.

“Three weeks ago, I found out the guy I was living with, the man of my dreams, was seeing another woman. We had a big fight, and he moved out. I’ve been crying every day, and I’m desperate to win him back.”

Sully clucked his tongue. “A man who cheats on his partner, romantic or otherwise, isn’t a prize worth winning back. That’s what I’d tell her.”

Lainie had once thought Craig was a prize, and boy, had she been wrong about that. It’s a shame she hadn’t had Sully nearby when she’d been taken in by that liar’s soft Southern drawl. But Sully was here now. And providing the wisdom this letter writer needed.

“That’s a good point,” Lainie said. It was clever, too, and a good response for the column. “I’ll mention that to...my friend.”

Male voices sounded outside, growing louder until the mudroom door squeaked open. A second later, Nate Gallagher, the acting foreman, entered the kitchen.

Sully acknowledged Nate with a nod, but Lainie focused on the man walking behind him. She guessed him to be a rancher or horseman, since his stylish Western wear suggested he could afford to hire someone to do the dirty work. He was in his early to midthirties, tall and nice looking, with broad shoulders and a rugged build.

He removed his black Stetson, revealing sandy-blond hair, which he wore longer than most of the rodeo cowboys she’d met. Not that she’d ever been a buckle bunny or even attracted to that kind of guy before she’d met Craig.

And after that awful night, she’d sworn off men indefinitely. Yet she found herself stirred by this one’s presence. He also looked familiar. Had she met him before?

“Meet Drew Madison,” Nate said. “He’s handling the Rocking Chair Rodeo promotion.”

Just the word rodeo sent Lainie’s heart slamming into her chest. Had she seen him while on one of the few dates she’d had with Craig?

No, she’d never forget a man like him.

But if he and Craig ran in the same circles, he might recognize her. For that reason, she’d better get out of here. She didn’t mind being around the older cowboys, some of whom had ridden in the rodeo back in the days before cable television and social media. But a recent connection spelled trouble—and further humiliation.

Nevertheless, she wouldn’t be rude to a ranch visitor. So she placed the letter she’d been holding upside down on the rest of the stack on the table. Then she got to her feet and said, “It’s nice to meet you. I’ll put on a pot of coffee.”

Then she did just that. If there was one thing she’d learned in her short time at the Rocking C, it was that the cowboys, young and old, loved a fresh brew.

As the coffee began to perk, Lainie studied the pot as if it might bounce off the countertop if she didn’t stand guard.