The Christmas Cradle

She inhaled deeply, but it didn’t stop the memories. When her mother had returned home and found her gone, she’d called Stacy, who was then back in New York, and got the whole story—that Marisa had decided to stay in Nevada and was getting married. Announcing the news was like putting a match to gasoline, and the scenes that had followed were not pleasant. It had been the beginning of Marisa’s nightmare.

A sob left her throat and she forced herself to look at the directions in her hand. She turned off the highway onto a blacktop country road. As she did, she noticed the dark thunderclouds. A storm was brewing, as Cari had said, but she’d be back in Dallas before it broke. Dinner with her mother would be an ironic ending to the task ahead of her.

TULLEY CAME THROUGH the back door, removed his hat and folded himself into a chair opposite Colter. Jackson Tulley was like a father to him. Everything Colter knew about riding, Tulley had taught him. He’d been there for every win and every loss. He also understood every hurt and pain Colter suffered, because he suffered them, too.

Tulley and Colter’s father, James Kincaid, had been best friends, riding the rodeo circuit in their off time. James died when Colter was ten, and Tulley nurtured the boy’s rodeo interest with his mother’s approval. Looking back, Colter didn’t know what he would’ve done without Tulley in his life.

“You still brooding about seeing her today?” Tulley asked, watching Colter’s dark expression.

Colter tightened the hold on the cup. “I can’t get it out of my mind. I turned around and there she was. I couldn’t make myself walk away from her. I wanted to say so many things, but I’m not sure what I actually said. I just don’t know what she was doing there.”

Tulley ran one hand through his thinning gray hair. “Think about it, boy.”

Colter raised his head. “What?”

“Marisa Preston.”

“Yeah. What are you getting at?”

“Either you’re getting dense or you have a mental block.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Tulley?”

“Richard Preston, owner of Dalton’s Department Stores. Marisa Preston. There has to be a connection.”

“God, I never put it together.” Colter ran both hands over his face. “She said her father lived in Texas, but she never mentioned what he did.”

“Back then you two didn’t do much talking.”

Colter thought they had, but in reality Tulley was right. They had hardly known each other. He couldn’t understand why his memories of her were still so strong.

“So what are you going to do?”

“Nothing,” Colter replied. “She’s obviously working for her father now. What happened to the pianist career I don’t know, nor do I care. She’s not going to get her hooks into me again.”

Tulley’s eyebrows shot up. “Did she show any interest?”

“No, not really. She wanted to tell me something about the past and I didn’t want to hear it.” He ran his hands over his face again. “God, Tulley, why can’t I forget her? It’s been years and yet—”

“You know the answer to that.”

“Yeah.” Colter gazed out the window, his eyes matching the dark clouds gathering outside. “When I won at the finals in Vegas and she was there, I felt like king of the world. I spent a lot of my winnings on a ring, and when I got back to the motel room, she was gone. I hit the ground so hard, I’ve never recovered. No other woman ever made me feel like that. Not even Ellie’s birth dimmed it.”

Tulley just nodded. He’d heard the story before, and he cursed the young girl who had the power to hurt this man so much. Changing the subject seemed like the best thing to do.

“Becky got everything set for the stores in Austin?”

Colter took a long breath. “Yeah. She’s worked nonstop to get Kincaid Boots into more western stores.”

“That girl has a good head on her shoulders. Both girls do. You’ve done great with your sisters.”

Colter’s mother had died when he was eighteen and he’d become solely responsible for his two younger sisters, Jennifer and Rebecca. Tulley and his wife, Cora, had moved in with them and Cora had stayed with the girls while the men were on the circuit. But his sisters had always been level-headed and responsible and never given him any problems.

Becky and Jen had business degrees, and together they ran the Kincaid Boot Company. Colter put his expertise into the design of the boot, and Bart, Jen’s husband, who had a marketing degree, had turned Kincaid Boots into a thriving enterprise. Thanks to Becky’s drive, Jen’s management skills and Bart’s commercial savvy, a lot of western stores were carrying the Kincaid Boot. Accessories had recently been added.

Years ago they’d all lived in a small three-bedroom house, and when Colter had built this house he’d wanted it big, with enough room for everyone. But by then everyone was older and going off in different directions.

The girls were in college when Cora passed away. It had been a difficult time for all of them, but they’d had each other, and had adjusted. Jen was already dating Bart and soon married him. Becky lived in the house for a while, but then she became so involved in making Kincaid Boots a success that she was gone a lot. He’d encouraged her to rent an apartment in town because he didn’t want her to feel honor-bound to stay because of Ellie.

Ellie was his responsibility, and Becky deserved her own life. After many discussions, she finally rented a place not far from the Kincaid offices, but he still kept a room for her and Jen to use whenever they wanted to come home. It was just the three of them there now—Ellie, Tulley and him.

Colter took a sip of coffee. “I’m very proud of them. They’ve done wonders with Kincaid Boots. Of course, Bart helped a lot, too.”

“I think your name had a little something to do with it.”

“Yeah, but they did all the work.” He stared at his cup. “I was busy raising Ellie.”

There was silence for a second.

Tulley cleared his throat. “Jen will probably spend less and less time on the business now that she and Bart are expecting.”

“Jennifer’s always been a homebody, and if she wants to stay home with her baby, then I’m all for that. A baby needs a mother.”

Silence again.

“Dammit, Colt, boy,” Tulley said, reading his mind. “Shorty’s fine without a mother.” That was what he called Ellie—and had since the first day he held her.

“I don’t know. She has a dog that she insists talks to her and she writes all these letters to Santa. I’ve mailed four already this year. I’m at a loss as to how to deal with some of these problems.”

“She’s a little girl and she’ll outgrow them. All I see is a happy, imaginative child—and so should you.”

“Speaking of my child, where is she?”

“She’s at the corral looking at that new horse you bought.”

Colter jumped to his feet. “I don’t want her anywhere near that horse. He’s not broke.”

Tulley shook his head. “Lordy, boy, you’re jumpy. Give Ellie some credit. She knows not to get in a pen with an un-broke horse. We taught her better than that.”

Colter sank back into his chair with a groan. “I’m not thinking straight and I’m all keyed up.”

Before Tulley could answer, Ellie and Sooner came charging through the back door. Ellie rarely walked; she was always in a run, her ponytail bouncing. She slid onto Colter’s lap, and Colter held her tight, maybe a little too tight.

“That horse is real mean, Daddy,” she told him. “He’s pawing the ground, and Sooner growled at him. Sooner said he’s not scared of him, but I think he’s lying.”

Sooner barked.

“Yes, you are, Sooner,” Ellie said, and Colter closed his eyes briefly. He didn’t want to have another conversation about whether or not she could hear Sooner talk, not today. He had to get rid of this restless energy.