The Cowboy's Christmas Miracle

“Our mom sent us.” Apparently, Kip’s trauma of a few days earlier had been forgotten. He seemed to consider Carson his best friend, judging by the wattage of the gap-toothed grin he offered that should have looked ridiculous but seemed rather appealing instead.

“This is for you.” Hayden barely looked at him as he thrust out the parcels and Carson now saw they were clear holiday patterned plastic containers filled with some kind of food items.

“We’re supposed to tell you to put the spinach rolls in the refrigerator. The cookies you can leave out.”

“I hope she gave you snickerdoodles,” Kip said with that grin again. “They’re my favorite.”

“Okay.” He had no idea how to respond to this unexpected visit or to their offerings.

“Tell him what we’re supposed to say,” Drew hissed to his older brother.

Hayden scowled, then spoke in a monotone. “We’re supposed to tell you we’re sorry for trespassing the other day and thank you for bringing Kip home when he fell off the fence and for pulling out our van yesterday when Mom got stuck in the snow.”

“Uh, you’re welcome.” He had absolutely no experience with neighbors who thought they had to bring him cookies. It was a Mayberry moment he found unexpected and a bit surreal. Still, just the thought of having the chance to enjoy more of Jenna Wheeler’s cooking made his mouth water.

“Your house is big,” Kip said, looking around the two-story entry that led to the great room. “It’s like a castle.”

“Grandma Pat says it’s a monster city up here.” The oldest one stated the insult matter-of-factly. “She says you’re only stroking your ego.”

It took him a few moments to figure out “monster city” probably meant monstrosity. Either way, it annoyed him.

“Does she?” he asked evenly, wondering who the hell Grandma Pat might be.

Drew studied him, those green eyes behind the glasses wary. “Is that something mean? What Grandma Pat said?”

Again, Carson felt out of his depth and wondered the best way to usher his bothersome little visitors out the door. “I guess that depends.”

“Grandma Pat says mean stuff like that all the time,” he said, apology in his voice.

“She does not, moron. Shut up.” Hayden punched his shoulder hard enough to make Drew wobble a little and Carson fought the urge to sit the boy down for a long lecture about not mistreating anybody, particularly smaller brothers.

Drew righted himself and stepped out of reach of his brother. “Mom says not to listen to her when she says something mean because she can’t help it. She doesn’t always think about what she’s saying.”

Hayden opened his mouth to defend Grandma Pat but before he could, Kip called out to them from inside the great room. “Hey, where’s your Christmas tree?”

How had the kid wandered away so quickly? One minute he’d been there grinning at him, the next he was halfway across the house. Like wayward puppies, his brothers followed him and Carson had no choice but to head after them.

“Don’t you have a tree?” Drew asked, his voice shocked.

“I have a little one in the family room off the kitchen.” A fourfoot grapevine tree his interior designer had left at Thanksgiving, when he visited last.

“Can we see it?” Drew asked.

“Why don’t you have a big one in here?” Hayden asked, with that inexplicable truculence in his voice.

“I guess I just haven’t gotten around to it.”

“Don’t you like Christmas?” Kip asked, looking astonished at the very idea.

How did he explain to these innocent-looking boys that the magic of the holidays disappeared mighty damn fast when you lived in the backseat of your druggie mother’s Chevy Vega?

“Sure, I like Christmas. I have a tree at my other house in California.” One that his housekeeper there insisted on decorating, but he decided he didn’t need to give the Wheeler boys that information. “I just haven’t had time to put one up here. I’ve only been here a few days and I’ve had other things to do.”

“We could help you cut one down.” Drew’s features sparkled with excitement. “We know where the good ones are. We always cut one down right by where the creek comes down and makes the big turn.”

“Only this year we couldn’t,” Hayden muttered. “Mom said it would be stealing since it’s on your land now. We had to go with our Uncle Paul to get one from the people selling them at his feed store. We couldn’t find a good one, though. They were all scrawny.”

The kid’s beef was with his mother for selling the land, not with him, Carson reminded himself, even as he bristled.

“You want us to show you where the good trees are?” his brother asked eagerly.

“Drew,” Hayden hissed.

“What? Maybe he doesn’t know. It would be fun. Just like when we used to go with…with Dad.”

The boy’s voice wobbled a little on the last word and Carson’s insides clenched. He didn’t need a bunch of fatherless boys coming into his life, making him feel sorry for them and guilty that he’d had the effrontery to pay their mother a substantial sum to buy their family’s ranch.

“We could take you on Peppy,” the youngest beamed. “Peppy’s the pony me and Drew share.”

“Like three people can fit on Pep,” Hayden scoffed. “He’s so old, he can barely carry the two of you.”

“Maybe he could ride his own horse,” Drew suggested. “It’s not far. So do you want us to help you? We already have our warm clothes on and everything.”

“Don’t be such a dork. Why would he want our help?”

Hayden’s surliness and his brother’s contrasting eagerness both tugged at something deep inside him, a tiny flicker of memory of the one Christmas he had been blessed to stay with his grandparents. He had been nine years old, trying to act as tough as Hayden. His grandfather had driven him on a snowmobile to the Forest Service land above their small ranch and the two of them had gone off in search of a Christmas tree.

He had forgotten that moment, had buried the memory deep. But now it all came flooding back—the citrusy tang of the pine trees, the cold wind rushing past, the crunch of the snow underfoot. The sheer thrill of walking past tree after tree until he and his grandfather picked out the perfect one.

He could still remember the joy of hauling it back to his grandparents’ home and the thrill as his grandmother had exclaimed over it, proclaiming it to be the most beautiful tree they had ever had.

He and his grandfather had hung the lights later that night and he had helped put the decorations up. He had a sudden distinct memory of sneaking out of bed later that night and going out to the living room, plugging in the lights and lying under the tree, watching the flickering lights change from red to green to purple to gold and wondering if he had ever seen anything so magical.

The next Christmas, he had been back with his mother and had spent the holiday in a dingy apartment in Barstow. The only lights had been headlights on the interstate.

He pushed the memory aside and focused on the three boys watching him with varying expressions on their similar features.

He really did need a Christmas tree. It was a glaring omission, one he couldn’t believe he hadn’t caught before now when he had been trying to make sure every detail at Raven’s Nest was perfect. He had guests coming in the next day who would be sure to wonder why he didn’t have one.

He had no good explanation he could offer the Hertzogs, other than his own negligence. He just hadn’t thought of it, since Christmas wasn’t really even on his radar.

He didn’t dislike the holidays, they were mostly just an inconvenience—a time when the whole world seemed to stop working, whether they celebrated Christmas or not.

On the other hand, where the hell was he going to get lights and decorations for a Christmas tree just five days before the holiday?

Carrianne could take care of that, he was quite certain. She would have the whole thing arranged in a few hours, even from California.

“You probably don’t even know how to ride a horse, do you?” Hayden scoffed. “That’s what Grandma Pat said. She says you probably don’t know the back end of a horse from a hole in the ground.”