Merry Cowboy Christmas (9 page)

“Your granny Irene was my best friend. I miss her.”

“What's that got to do with you trying to tell me what to do?” Fiona snapped.

It started as a chuckle and grew into a laugh that had every one of Dora June's three chins wiggling. She finally wiped her eyes with the tail of an old faded apron that had evidently come from the church clothes closet.

“You do have her temper. Nobody ever told Irene how to run her life. I always wished I could have gotten some of that for myself.”

“Never too late,” Fiona said. “Want to make some cookies tonight?”

“No, I do not! I'm going to wash a load of underwear so me and Truman can have clean things after our shower. I never wear under-britches right out of the packages and it was a real leap of faith for me to put on the ones I got at the church last night, but when you ain't got anything else, you learn to be grateful for what you can get.”

“I'm going to make cookies and I'll finish cleaning up the kitchen. You can get your laundry started,” Fiona said.

“Are you telling me what to do now?” Dora June raised a gray eyebrow.

“Yes, ma'am, I am.”

The older lady pursed her lips and settled her chins together in one big blob under her chin as she tilted her head down and looked up at Fiona over the top of her wire-rimmed glasses. “Just like Irene. Bossy as the devil. And look where it got her. Her mind is gone and she don't even know her family.”

“Living with Truman, I'd think you would be praying that you'd get Granny's dementia so you wouldn't know him,” Fiona told her.

“Hmmmph!” Dora June snorted but her eyes twinkled in merriment. “Living with you ain't goin' to be easy.”

F
iona ate one cookie out of each bunch that came from the oven, so by the time the six dozen were finished, there were only five and a half left. Of that, she placed six on a plate and the rest in an airtight container and left them on the counter in case Dora June or Truman wanted a late evening snack.

She filled a quart jar with milk, twisted the lid on it, and took it along with the cookies up the stairs. If there was no light shining from under Jud's door, she'd take the treats to her room. If there was, she'd set them on the floor, knock gently, and go on to her room.

His door was wide open. Jud was lying back in the recliner with a laptop resting on his knees and the wires from earbuds hanging down past his shoulders. He grinned and motioned her inside.

With a few flicks of the wrists, whatever was on the laptop disappeared and the earbuds were gone. “Hey, is that what I hope it is? I left the door open so none of the smell would be wasted.”

“Chocolate chip cookies and milk.” She set them on the nightstand beside his chair.

“Stay a while and talk to me. I was watching a show because I'm bored. If it hadn't started snowing and wasn't so damned cold, I'd be out on the porch or taking a drive.”

She sat down on the edge of the bed. “What were you watching?”

“Some episodes of
Justified
. I really like the first season. I hated it when the series ended, so I bought all six seasons.” He bit into a cookie and smiled. “Just like Mama makes and warm right from the oven.”

“That's when they're best,” she said. “So on a normal Monday night in your life before the Lucky Penny, what would you be doing?”

“Probably sitting in the living room watching television. Maybe drifting off to sleep because I'd partied too hard over the weekend. You?”

“Didn't have the money or the friends to party with over the weekend. So I would probably be propped up on my bed reading. The television in the furnished apartment I rented didn't have cable and only got one channel that usually played cartoons. The library was a block down from the coffee shop where I worked. On Saturday morning before my shift started, I'd go by and check out half a dozen books.”

He picked up the second cookie. “What do you read?”

“I like romance, but not paranormal. And mystery, but not the cozy stuff. Recently I've gotten into some cowboy romance by Katie Lane and Laura Drake.”

“Oh, so you like cowboys?” His eyes took on that dreamy I-would-love-to-take-you-to-bed look.

“I like to read about fictional cowboys. Real ones are a whole different story.” She paused and then went on. “Jud, do you think people or even places change in the course of time?”

He twisted the lid off the milk and took a few gulps. “Now, that's an interesting change of subject. I was about to say that I'm fond of Jeffery Deaver and James Patterson and I did like Nicholas Sparks's
The Longest Ride
. It's about a cowboy. Now back to your question about change over the course of time. Water can turn to ice if it's kept in the freezer long enough or it can change into steam if it's boiled. According to the circumstances, things can change,” he said.

“You think you can turn the Lucky Penny's reputation?”

“Absolutely. We've already started. In three generations, what they say about it will be urban legend. By the time I have grandkids, folks will be flocking to this area
because
of the Lucky Penny. It will raise the best beef cattle in the state and possibly be pumping enough oil to put Dry Creek back on the map. Main Street will be several blocks long and every store building will be full and the population will be ten times what it is now,” he said seriously.

“All the way up to five thousand?” A smile toyed at the edges of her mouth.

“Maybe more.” He nodded.

“Optimistic, aren't you?”

“Beats the hell out of pessimism. What else you got on your mind tonight?”

She shrugged. “You think people can change. I was sure hoping that Truman could change. I hate the tension when he is at the table. Just knowing he's in the house right here at Christmas puts a damper on the whole holiday. He's worse than Scrooge. What was Mama thinking? They could have lived in the church. It's got a kitchen, and when they redid the nursery they put a shower and a sofa bed in there in case visiting preachers needed a place to stay.”

“Maybe it's time to turn ice into steam,” Jud answered. “And, yes, people can change. It's got to do with whether they want to down deep in their hearts but nothing, not one single thing, is permanent on this earth. Not green grass or attitudes.”

“Thank you,” she said. “But Truman is frozen pretty solid. How do we even get him out of the ice tray?”

“What'd you do with the rest of the cookies?” Jud pushed the footrest down and stood and twisted his back, working out the kinks of the day.

He could stand in front of her and do nothing but move like that for an hour and she'd be content to watch the show. It was far sexier than any dance move she'd ever seen and the way his biceps flexed—well, that reminded her of the way his arms felt around her when they were kissing, and her imagination created images that made her blush.

“I put them in a container but I left some on the counter,” she answered.

“That's a step in the right direction. Nothing starts to unfreeze a feller like good cookies. Let's make it our Christmas mission to unthaw that old codger.”

She pushed up off the bed. “I'm not sure there's enough Christmas magic to turn that old scrooge into anything but a bigger old scrooge.”

He held out his hand toward her. “We need a plan. Come on, I'll walk you to your door. Never know what might be lurking out there in the shadows of the hall.”

She put her hand in his and he laced their fingers together. His calloused fingertips caused bursts of warmth throughout her whole body. Big hands like that would protect a woman as well as make love to her. She wished it were a quarter of a mile to her room instead of less than ten feet so she could examine all the feelings that his touch evoked.

“Thank you for the cookies and milk,” he whispered.

“You are so welcome. Thank you for the conversation.” She opened her door and let go of his hand.

“No good night kiss?” he asked.

“Jud, I—”

She didn't get another word out because his lips were on hers, moving expertly and erasing every sane thought from her head.

“Good night, Fiona,” he breathed into her ear when the kiss ended.

“No, Jud! Not good night. We've got to talk about whatever this thing is that has sprung up between us.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

He put a finger over her lips and she had to concentrate to keep from losing every shred of common sense in her body.

“One thing at a time, darlin'. Right now we've got to turn Scrooge into Santa Claus.”

Then he crossed the landing and shut his bedroom door behind him. For the second night in a row, she threw herself backward onto her bed and stared at the ceiling.

Truman didn't look too happy for Jud to be joining him and Dora June for breakfast but he didn't say anything other than to tell Dora June that he'd take three over easy eggs with his bacon and biscuits that morning.

“And you?” Dora June asked Jud.

“Same as Truman is having.” Jud poured himself a cup of coffee, topped off Truman's, and then sat down at the table.

“What made you get up so early?” Dora June cracked three eggs into a big cast-iron skillet.

“Have a problem I need some help with and was hoping Truman might be willing to hear me out.”

“I got work to do. Ain't got time for none of you Dawsons' problems. Got enough of my own,” Truman said coldly.

“Then I'll help you with chores this morning so you'll have the time. It's just a matter of a little hike. If you're too old to do much walkin', I guess I could just tell you what the problem is.”

“Boy”—Truman set his jaws in a clench— “I could outwalk you any day of the week. I'm used to hard work.”

“We'll see about that.” Jud smiled. “I'll help you get your work done and then we'll see if you get winded on the hike back to the place I want you to take a look at.”

“Hmmph,” Truman snorted.

Jud pushed back his chair, hurried across the kitchen floor, and took the two plates from Dora June. He set one in front of Truman and the other across the table. “I'll ride with you and then we can come back here when we're done. The place I need you to see can't be reached by truck. You'll need to bundle up so you don't get sick.”

“I'm used to the weather, so don't tell me how to dress. Maybe I don't want you to ride with me. Can't you get it through your thick head that I don't like you or your kin? And what's to say that after you work for me that I turn around and don't go with you?” Truman dug into the breakfast Dora June set before him.

“You might be a jackass, Truman, but you are an honest man, so if I work for you, then you will do what I ask,” Jud said.

Dora June brought a plate of muffins to the table and sat down beside Truman.

He buttered a muffin and laid it on the side of his plate, then shot a dirty look across the table at Jud. “Jackass, am I?”

“I didn't stutter,” Jud said.

“Well, if you're going to ride with me, you'd better get to eatin' because I'm not waitin' for you,” Truman said.

Jud had never shoveled food in so fast or gotten his boots and coat on in such a hurry. When Truman came out of the house, Jud was leaning on the fender of the old guy's truck. The look on Truman's face was absolutely priceless.

“It ain't locked,” Truman said. “I only open the doors for Dora June.”

Jud nodded seriously and crawled inside. Truman got in, ignored the seat belt, and started the engine.

“I reckon we're in for a hell of a winter. Only hope I've got enough hay in the barn to carry me through,” Truman said. “You boys are going to be hurtin' big-time.”

“I don't think so. We put up enough for the herd in the worst conditions and then added another forty big bales to that number, plus we always use some cattle feed to keep the weight on them in the cold weather,” Jud countered.

Truman turned right at the end of the lane. The Lucky Penny lay to the right, and down the road a bit was Deke's new place over on the left. Just past that, Truman turned into his lane, drove past the charred remains of what used to be his home, and drove on out to the barn.

“What kind of stock are you runnin'?” Jud asked.

“Twenty goats and a hundred head of cattle.”

“Why goats?” Jud asked.

“Dora June thinks the babies are cute in the spring and I sell off the stock in August. It gives her a little extra money to put in her jar.”

Jud opened the door and got out of the truck. “What does she do with the money?”

“Never asked. It's hers and it's her business.”

“Okay, goats first and then cattle?” Jud asked.

Truman nodded. “Load up two bags of them pellets and we'll drive over to the goat pen.”

Jud hoisted a bag up on each shoulder and tossed them over into the back of Truman's truck. “Now what?” he asked.

Truman almost smiled. “I'll drive and you can dump it in their feeder. Be careful around that old billy goat. Dora June is the only person he likes. He's put me over the fence more'n once.”

Jud fought the urge to pump his fist in the air. A smile from Truman was a hell of a lot of progress for one morning's work.

“Okay. You want me and my cousins to bring the dozer over here when this weather clears up and take care of that fire mess?”

“Hell no!” Truman raised his voice. “Insurance ain't decided what they're going to do yet. Don't know why they're actin' like it was arson. It was that damned old Christmas tree Dora June puts up every single year.”

“Did you hear that the whole family is coming over for supper tonight and we're putting up decorations?” Jud asked.

“I ain't goin' to be involved in that shit. I'll stay in my room,” he said.

“Why?”

“I hate Christmas,” Truman said.

“That's sad.”

“I don't need your pity. I can hate it if I want to,” Truman declared.

“I guess that's your choice. I love Christmas. It's my favorite holiday.”

Truman grunted.

It wasn't far to the goat pen and the herd seemed oblivious to snowflakes drifting down from the cold gray skies. The younger ones romped around playing king of the mountain on a couple of hay bales. The older ones pawed at the snow so they could get at the brown grass beneath it. The two bags filled the feed trough and the billy goat was far too interested in eating to mess with Jud.

That job finished, he hopped into the truck, removed his gloves, and rubbed his hands together. “It's getting colder by the minute. The flakes aren't wet anymore but dry and they're coming down faster.”

“We're in for another bad winter. Dora June's knee hurts when the weather is changin' and she's right every time,” Truman said. “Let's check on them cows now. I put several bales out yesterday mornin' but it's been cold. Probably need to load up another one and take it out to them.”

“So you use the small square bales?” Jud asked. “Most ranchers have gone to the big round ones.”

“I ain't spendin' my money for all that equipment to make the big bales when this size has worked my whole life. Ain't you strong enough to throw a few bales off the back of a truck?” Truman said without even cracking a smile.

“To get you to answer my questions, I'll restack the whole barn for you,” Jud shot back at him.

Truman's eyes twinkled even if he didn't smile. “I won't ask you to do that but you can load the truck and ride in the back so you can throw the bales off when I stop.”