A Cowboy Family Christmas

She had ground beef in the fridge. Hamburgers with all the fixings wouldn’t be too difficult to pull off. By the time she’d gotten across the yard and near the house, she had a menu planned. Thank goodness for the canned beans in the pantry and the ice cream she’d stored in the freezer.

She’d no more than reached the back porch of the main ranch house when she spotted Sully and Rex, another old-timer, sitting outside, swaying away the afternoon in rocking chairs. They were watching—or rather critiquing—a younger cowboy working with a horse in the corral.

“Damn fool kid,” Rex said. “Someone had better fire his ass before he gets himself killed.”

“You got that right.” Sully slowly shook his head.

“Aw, hell.” Rex got to his feet and reached for his cane. “I’m going to find Nate. This is crazy. That kid shouldn’t be left to work on his own.”

Rex had no more than taken a single step when he spotted Lainie and tipped his worn cowboy hat at her. “Little lady. If you’ll excuse me?”

“Of course,” she said.

Rex grumbled something under his breath as he took off in search of the acting foreman.

“So,” Sully said. “I see you’re finally home after your trip to town.”

“Yes, I got back a little while ago. I’ve been helping Drew get settled in the cabin on the knoll.”

Sully glanced at his wristwatch. “Looks like it’s about time for dinner.”

Yes, and if she didn’t get inside quickly, she wouldn’t have it on the table by five o’clock. Joy had warned her that the men were in the habit of eating at set times—and not one minute later.

“I know you’re probably busy,” Sully said, “but I thought about something after we discussed your friend’s problem.”

For a moment, the only problem Lainie could remember was her own. What normal woman dropped her pants in front of a stranger, and all because of a tiny mouse? But Sully hadn’t been privy to that secret. At least, not yet.

“What problem is that?” she asked.

“You know,” he said, as he got up from his rocker and followed her into the kitchen. “The friend who wrote you the letter about having her heart broken.”

“Oh, yes.”

“I thought about something else you can tell her,” Sully said.

Too late. The column was already in Mr. Carlton’s inbox. But Lainie wasn’t about to turn down any sage advice she might be able to use later. “What’s that?”

“You can’t expect someone else to make you happy. You’ll only end up miserable if you do because the time will come when the two of you will part ways, through death or divorce or whatever.”

Wasn’t that the truth? Time and again since childhood, Lainie had learned that lesson the hard way. She never knew her mother, and her father died before she and her twin entered kindergarten. Three years later, her grandmother followed suit and left them wards of the state. Then Erica was adopted and snatched away. Even while Lainie was in the hospital for her heart surgery, the nurses kept changing, thanks to their varied shifts.

So if there was anything to count on, it was that life was unpredictable. And the only one who could make her happy was herself.

She’d thought her luck might have changed when she met Craig, but she’d never expected him to make her happy. She had, however, expected him to be honest with her.

“When my wife died,” Sully said, “I missed her so much. For a while, I thought my life was over. I couldn’t see a purpose for it after she was gone. But my buddies stepped in and gave me a kick in the backside. They told me to quit feeling sorry for myself and to focus on others.”

Lainie opened the commercial-sized refrigerator and pulled out a huge package of ground beef. “What did you do?”

“I volunteered at a local soup kitchen. And it made all the difference in the world. Tell your friend to find something to do that’s bigger than herself. Once she gets off the pity train, she’ll be surprised at how good she’ll feel.”

“More wise advice,” Lainie said. And more fodder for a future column.

“You might want to give her some options, like volunteering at the animal shelter or collecting blankets and toiletry items for the homeless.”

Actually, that’s exactly what Lainie would so. She’d go to the library and do some online research about the needs in the community. Then, when she found an opportunity to make a suggestion like that to someone, she’d have a good-size list of volunteer possibilities to provide as a wrap to the column.

“That’s a great idea, Sully. I’ll make that suggestion the next time I talk to my friend.” She offered him a warm, appreciative smile, dropped the meat on the counter then opened the pantry and pulled out several packages of buns. “Thanks again for the advice.”

“Sure. Anytime. Say, you need any help?”

Boy, did she. And on so many levels. But he was talking about dinner—and the need for her to get it on the table by five. “Sure, would you mind firing up the gas grill?”

“I’d be delighted.” Sully went outside to the deck.

Before forming the meat into patties, Lainie washed her hands at the sink, then dried them with the dish towel that had been resting on the counter. She couldn’t help glancing out the kitchen window at the cabin on the knoll. Her hand lifted, and she fingered the length of the scar that hid under the cotton and denim.

She’d just about reached her wit’s end when it came to dealing with handsome men, especially those who left her feeling guilty or embarrassed or lacking in any way. Fortunately, she’d be moving on again soon. Only this time, when she chose a new job, it might be best to consider one at a convent.

* * *

Lainie had just finished wiping down the countertops and putting away the last of the breakfast dishes when the ranch telephone rang. She snatched the receiver from its wall-mounted cradle. The cord, stretched from years of use, dangled to her knees. “Rocking Chair Ranch. This is Lainie.”

“Hey, kid.”

She was more than a little surprised to hear Mr. Carlton’s voice on the other end.

“I knew you could do it,” he said, his tone almost jubilant. “That column you sent to me yesterday was great. In fact, it was everything I’d hoped it would be.”

Thank goodness. Or rather, in this case, thank Sully. Either way, she was relieved to know she’d hit the mark. “Thank you, Mr. Carlton.”

“You mentioned the internet service wasn’t very good at the ranch, so I hope you received the additional letters I sent. I hadn’t gotten your column yet, but I had a good feeling.”

“Yes, I did. I had to go into town to find Wi-Fi so I could send it to you. And while I was there, I checked my email and downloaded them onto my laptop.” She hadn’t looked at them yet. She was waiting until she found both the time and the enthusiasm to tackle the chore. But her boss didn’t need to know that. “I’ll read them over the weekend.”

“Good, but you might want to get started on them right away. I’ll need your next column turned in by Monday at noon.”

“So soon?” Monday was only a few days away. She leaned against the wall and wrapped the curly phone cord around her index finger. “I thought my deadlines were on Wednesdays.”

“Now that we’re back on track, I’ll need more time to review your column.”

“I’m afraid I’m not following you.”

“When the last Dear Debbie quit without notice, I had to find a replacement and make adjustments. The column comes out every Friday, so I pushed your deadline back to give you time to write it. But that meant I had to review it quickly. I’ll admit that your column isn’t a huge priority to me, especially since the readership isn’t that big. But the fans we do have are very loyal. And they’re vocal.”

Lainie didn’t doubt that the lovelorn column was at the bottom of the editor’s priority list. Not that she knew what was at the top. She had no idea what the Brighton Valley residents expected to see in terms of news and special interest stories. At least, not yet. She’d have a much better idea after she researched her new community and the various organizations needing volunteers the next time she went to town. She’d even take her camera with her. Who knew what photo op she might find? Or what interesting tidbit she might learn. There were sure to be plenty of people or activities going on that she could use for a future article.

Mr. Carlton cleared his throat. “A Monday deadline isn’t going to be a problem for you, is it?”