Christmas Cowboy: Will of Steel / Winter Roses

“Still, you could find some unpleasant duty to assign him. Didn’t he say once that he hates being on traffic detail at ball games?”

He brightened. “You know, he did say that.”

“See? An opportunity presents itself.” She frowned. “Why are we looking for ways to punish him this time?”

“He brought in a new book on the Little Bighorn Battle and showed me where it said Crazy Horse wasn’t in the fighting.”

She gave him a droll look. “Oh, sure.”

He grimaced. “Every so often, some writer who never saw a real Native American gets a bunch of hearsay evidence together and writes a book about how he’s the only one who knows the true story of some famous battle. This guy also said that Custer was nuts and had a hand in the post trader scandal where traders were cheating the Sioux and Cheyenne.”

“Nobody who reads extensively about Custer would believe he had a hand in something so dishonest,” she scoffed. “He went to court and testified against President Ulysses S. Grant’s own brother in that corruption trial, as I recall. Why would he take such a risk if he was personally involved in it?”

“My thoughts exactly,” he said, “and I told Banes so.”

“What did Banes say to that?”

“He quoted the author’s extensive background in military history.”

She gave him a suspicious look. “Yes? What sort of background?”

“He’s an expert in the Napoleonic Wars.”

“Great! What does that have to do with the campaign on the Greasy Grass?” she asked, which referred to the Lakota name for the battle.

“Not a damned thing,” he muttered. “You can be brilliant in your own field of study, but it’s another thing to do your research from a standing start and come to all the wrong conclusions. Banes said the guy used period newspapers and magazines for part of his research.”

“The Lakota and Cheyenne, as I recall, didn’t write about current events,” she mused.

He chuckled. “No, they didn’t have newspaper reporters back then. So it was all from the cavalry’s point of view, or that of politicians. History is the story of mankind written by the victors.”

“Truly.”

He smiled. “You’re pretty good on local history.”

“That’s because I’m related to people who helped make it.”

“Me, too.” He cocked his head. “I ought to take you down to Hardin and walk the battlefield with you sometime,” he said.

Her eyes lit up. “I’d love that.”

“So would I.”

“There’s a trading post,” she recalled.

“They have some beautiful things there.”

“Made by local talent,” she agreed. She sighed. “I get so tired of so-called Native American art made in China. Nothing against the Chinese. I mean, they have aboriginal peoples, too. But if you’re going to sell things that are supposed to be made by tribes in this country, why import them? ”

“Beats me. Ask somebody better informed.”

“You’re a police chief,” she pointed out. “There isn’t supposed to be anybody better informed.”

He grinned. “Thanks.”

She curtsied.

He frowned. “Don’t you own a dress?”

“Sure. It’s in my closet.” She pursed her lips. “I wore it to graduation.”

“Spare me!”

“I guess I could buy a new one.”

“I guess you could. I mean, if we’re courting, it will look funny if you don’t wear a dress.”

“Why?”

He blinked. “You going to get married in blue jeans?”

“For the last time, I am not going to marry you.”

He took off his wide-brimmed hat and laid it on the hall table. “We can argue about that later. Right now, we need to eat some of that nice, warm, fresh bread before it gets cold and butter won’t melt on it. Shouldn’t we?” he added with a grin.

She laughed. “I guess we should.”

Two

The bread was as delicious as he’d imagined it would be. He closed his eyes, savoring the taste.

“You could cook, if you’d just try,” she said.

“Not really. I can’t measure stuff properly.”

“I could teach you.”

“Why do I need to learn how, when you do it so well already?” he asked reasonably.

“You live alone,” she began.

He raised an eyebrow. “Not for long.”

“For the tenth time today …”

“The California guy was in town today,” he said grimly. “He came by the office to see me.”

“He did?” She felt apprehensive.

He nodded as he bit into another slice of buttered bread with perfect white teeth. “He’s already approached contractors for bids to build his housing project.” He bit the words off as he was biting the bread.

“Oh.”

Jet-black eyes pierced hers. “I told him about the clause in the will.”

“What did he say?”

“That he’d heard you wouldn’t marry me.”

She grimaced.

“He was strutting around town like a tom turkey,” he added. He finished the bread and sipped coffee. His eyes closed as he savored it. “You make great coffee, Jake!” he exclaimed. “Most people wave the coffee over water. You could stand up a spoon in this.”

“I like it strong, too,” she agreed. She studied his hard, lean face. “I guess you live on it when you have cases that keep you out all night tracking. There have been two or three of those this month alone.”

He nodded. “Our winter festival brings in people from all over the country. Some of them see the mining company’s bankroll as a prime target.”

“Not to mention the skeet-and-trap-shooting regional championships,” she said. “I’ve heard that thieves actually follow the shooters around and get license plate numbers of cars whose owners have the expensive guns.”

“They’re targets, all right.”

“Why would somebody pay five figures for a gun?” she wondered out loud.

He laughed. “You don’t shoot in competition, so it’s no use trying to explain it to you.”

“You compete,” she pointed out. “You don’t have a gun that expensive and you’re a triple-A shooter.”

He shrugged. “It isn’t that I wouldn’t like to have one. But unless I take up bank robbing, I’m not likely to be able to afford one, either. The best I can do is borrow one for the big competitions.”

Her eyes popped. “You know somebody who’ll loan you a fifty-thousand-dollar shotgun?”

He laughed. “Well, actually, yes, I do. He’s police chief of a small town down in Texas. He used to do shotgun competitions when he was younger, and he still has the hardware.”

“And he loans you the gun.”

“He isn’t attached to it, like some owners are. Although, you’d never get him to loan his sniper kit,” he chuckled.

“Excuse me?”

He leaned toward her. “He was a covert assassin in his shady past.”

“Really?” She was excited by the news.

He frowned. “What do women find so fascinating about men who shoot people?”

She blinked. “It’s not that.”

“Then what is it?”

She hesitated, trying to put it into words. “Men who have been in battles have tested themselves in a way most people never have to,” she began slowly. “They learn their own natures. They … I can’t exactly express it… .”

“They learn what they’re made of, right where they live and breathe,” he commented. “Under fire, you’re always afraid. But you harness the fear and use it, attack when you’d rather run. You learn the meaning of courage. It isn’t the absence of fear. It’s fear management, at its best. You do your duty.”

“Nicely said, Chief Graves,” she said admiringly, and grinned.

“Well, I know a thing or two about being shot at,” he reminded her. “I was in the first wave in the second incursion in the Middle East. Then I became a police officer and then a police chief.”

“You met the other police chief at one of those conventions, I’ll bet,” she commented.

“Actually I met him at the FBI academy during a training session on hostage negotiation,” he corrected. “He was teaching it.”

“My goodness. He can negotiate?”

“He did most of his negotiations with a gun before he was a Texas Ranger,” he laughed.

“He was a Ranger, too?”

“Yes. And a cyber-crime expert for a Texas D.A., and a merc, and half a dozen other interesting things. He can also dance. He won a tango contest in Argentina, and that’s saying something. Tango and Argentina go together like coffee and cream.”

She propped her chin in her hands. “A man who can do the tango. It boggles the mind. I’ve only ever seen a couple of men do it in movies.” She smiled. “Al Pacino in Scent of a Woman was my favorite.”

He grinned. “Not the ‘governator’ in True Lies?“

She glared at him. “I’m sure he was doing his best.”

He shook his head. “I watched Rudolph Valentino do it in an old silent film,” he sighed. “Real style.”

“It’s a beautiful dance.”

He gave her a long look. “There’s a new Latin dance club in Billings.”

“What?” she exclaimed with pure surprise.

“No kidding. A guy from New York moved out here to retire. He’d been in ballroom competition most of his life and he got bored. So he organized a dance band and opened up a dance club. People come up from Wyoming and across from the Dakotas just to hear the band and do the dances.” He toyed with his coffee cup. “Suppose you and I go up there and try it out? I can teach you the tango.”

Her heart skipped. It was the first time, despite all the banter, that he’d ever suggested taking her on a date.

He scowled when she hesitated.

“I’d love to,” she blurted out.

His face relaxed. He smiled again. “Okay. Saturday?”

She nodded. Her heart was racing. She felt breathless.

She was so young, he thought, looking at her. He hesitated.

“They don’t have grammar school on Saturdays,” she quipped, “so I won’t need an excuse from the principal to skip class.”

He burst out laughing. “Is that how I looked? Sorry.”

“I’m almost twenty-one,” she pointed out. “I know that seems young to you, but I’ve had a lot of responsibility. Uncle John could be a handful, and I was the only person taking care of him for most of my life.”

“That’s true. Responsibility matures people pretty quick.”

“You’d know,” she said softly, because he’d taken wonderful care of his grandmother and then the uncle who’d owned half this ranch.

He shrugged. “I don’t think there’s a choice about looking after people you love.”

“Neither do I.”

He gave her an appraising look. “You going to the club in blue jeans and a shirt?” he asked. “Because if you are, I plan to wear my uniform.”

She raised both eyebrows.

“Or have you forgotten what happened the last time I wore my uniform to a social event?” he added.

She glowered at him.

“Is it my fault if people think of me as a target the minute they realize what I do for a living?” he asked.

“You didn’t have to anoint him with punch.”

“Sure I did. He was so hot under the collar about a speeding ticket my officer gave him that he needed instant cooling off.”

She laughed. “Your patrolman is still telling that story.”

“With some exaggerations he added to it,” Theodore chuckled.

“It cured the guy of complaining to you.”

“Yes, it did. But if I wear my uniform to a dance club where people drink, there’s bound to be at least one guy who thinks I’m a target.”

She sighed.

“And since you’re with me, you’d be right in the thick of it.” He pursed his lips. “You wouldn’t like to be featured in a riot, would you?”

“Not in Billings, no,” she agreed.

“Then you could wear a skirt, couldn’t you?”

“I guess it wouldn’t kill me,” she said, but reluctantly.

He narrowed his eyes as he looked at her. There was some reason she didn’t like dressing like a woman. He wished he could ask her about it, but she was obviously uncomfortable discussing personal issues with him. Maybe it was too soon. He did wonder if she still had scars from her encounter with the auditor.

He smiled gently. “Something demure,” he added. “I won’t expect you to look like a pole dancer, okay?”

She laughed. “Okay.”

He loved the way she looked when she smiled. Her whole face took on a radiance that made her pretty. She didn’t smile often. Well, neither did he. His job was a somber one, most of the time.

“I’ll see you about six, then.”

She nodded. She was wondering how she was going to afford something new to wear to a fancy nightclub, but she would never have admitted it to him.

She ran into Sassy Callister in town while she was trying to find something presentable on the bargain table at the single women’s clothing store.

“You’re looking for a dress?” Sassy exclaimed. She’d known Jillian all her life, and she’d never seen her in anything except jeans and shirts. She even wore a pantsuit to church when she went.

Jillian glared at her. “I do have legs.”

“That wasn’t what I meant.” She chuckled. “I gather Ted’s taking you out on a real date, huh?”

Jillian went scarlet. “I never said …!”

“Oh, we all know about the will,” Sassy replied easily. “It’s sensible, for the two of you to get married and keep the ranch in the family. Nobody wants to see some fancy resort being set up here,” she added, “with outsiders meddling in our local politics and throwing money around to get things the way they think they should be.”

Jillian’s eyes twinkled. “Imagine you complaining about the rich, when you just married one of the richest men in Montana.”

“You know what I mean,” Sassy laughed. “And I’ll remind you that I didn’t know he was rich when I accepted his proposal.”

“A multimillionaire pretending to be a ranch foreman.”

Jillian shook her head. “It came as a shock to a lot of us when we found out who he really was.”

“I assure you that it was more of a shock to me,” came the amused reply. “I tried to back out of it, but he wouldn’t let me. He said that money was an accessory, not a character trait. You should meet his brother and sister-in-law,” she added with a grin. “Her parents were missionaries and her aunt is a nun. Oh, and her godfather is one of the most notorious ex-mercenaries who ever used a gun.”

“My goodness!”

“But they’re all very down-to-earth. They don’t strut, is what I mean.”

Jillian giggled. “I get it.”

Sassy gave her a wise look. “You want something nice for that date, but you’re strained to the gills trying to manage on what your uncle left you.”

Jillian started to deny it, but she gave up. Sassy was too sweet to lie to. “Yes,” she confessed. “I was working for old Mrs. Rogers at the florist shop. Then she died and the shop closed.” She sighed. “Not many jobs going in a town this small. You’d know all about that,” she added, because Sassy had worked for a feed store and was assaulted by her boss. Fortunately she was rescued by her soon-to-be husband and the perpetrator had been sent to jail. But it was the only job Sassy could get. Hollister was very small.

Sassy nodded. “I wouldn’t want to live anyplace else, though. Even if I had to commute back and forth to Billings to get a job.” She laughed. “I considered that, but I didn’t think my old truck would get me that far.” Her eyes twinkled. “Chief Graves said that if he owned a piece of junk like I was driving, he’d be the first to agree to marry a man who could afford to replace it for me.”

Jillian burst out laughing. “I can imagine what you said to that.”

She laughed, too. “I just expressed the thought that he wouldn’t marry John Callister for a truck.” She cocked her head. “He really is a catch, you know. Theodore Graves is the stuff of legends around here. He’s honest and kindhearted and a very mean man to make an enemy of. He’d take care of you.”

“Well, he needs more taking care of than I do,” came the droll reply. “At least I can cook.”

“Didn’t you apply for the cook’s job at the restaurant?”

“I did. I got it, too, but you can’t tell Theodore.”

“I won’t. But why can’t I?”

Jillian sighed. “In case things don’t work out, I want to have a means of supporting myself. He’ll take it personally if he thinks I got a job before he even proposed.”

“He’s old-fashioned.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” Jillian replied with a smile.

“Of course not. It’s just that some men have to be hit over the head so they’ll accept that modern women can have outside interests without giving up family. Come over here.”

She took Jillian’s arm and pulled her to one side. “Everything in here is a three-hundred-percent markup,” she said under her breath. “I love Jessie, but she’s overpriced. You’re coming home with me. We’re the same size and I’ve got a closet full of stuff you can wear. You can borrow anything you like. Heck, you can have what you like. I’ll never wear all of it anyway.”

Jillian flushed red and stammered, “No, I couldn’t …!”

“You could and you’re going to. Now come on!”

Jillian was transported to the Callister ranch in a Jaguar. She was so fascinated with it that she didn’t hear half of what her friend was saying.

“Look at all these gadgets!” she exclaimed. “And this is real wood on the dash!”

“Yes,” Sassy laughed. “I acted the same as you, the first time I rode in it. My old battered truck seemed so pitiful afterward.”

“I like my old car. But this is amazing,” she replied, touching the silky wood.

“I know.”

“It’s so nice of you to do this,” Jillian replied. “Theodore wanted me to wear a skirt. I don’t even own one.”

Sassy looked at her briefly. “You should tell him, Jilly.”

She flushed and averted her eyes. “Nobody knows but you and your mother. And I know you won’t say anything.”

“Not unless you said I could,” Sassy replied. “But it could cause you some problems later on. Especially after you’re married.”

Jillian clenched her teeth. “I’ll cross that bridge if I come to it. I may not marry Theodore. We may be able to find a way to break the will.”

“One, maybe. Two, never.”

That was true. Both old men had left ironclad wills with clauses about the disposition of the property if Theodore and Jillian refused to get married.

“The old buzzards!” Jillian burst out. “Why did they have to complicate things like that? Theodore and I could have found a way to deal with the problem on our own!”

“I don’t know. Neither of you is well-off, and that California developer has tons of money. I’ll bet he’s already trying to find a way to get to one of you about buying the ranch outright once you inherit.”

“He’ll never get it,” she said stubbornly.

Sassy was going to comment that rich people with intent sometimes knew shady ways to make people do what they wanted them to. But the developer wasn’t local and he didn’t have any information he could use to blackmail either Theodore or Jillian, so he probably couldn’t force them to sell to him. He’d just sit and wait and hope they couldn’t afford to keep it. Fat chance, Sassy thought solemly. She and John would bail them out if they had to. No way was some out-of-state fat cat taking over Jillian’s land. Not after all she’d gone through in her young life.

Maybe it was a good thing Theodore didn’t know everything about his future potential wife. But Jillian was setting herself up for some real heartbreak if she didn’t level with him. After all, he was in law enforcement. He could dig into court records and find things that most people didn’t have access to. He hadn’t been in town when Jillian faced her problems, he’d been away at the FBI Academy on a training mission. And since only Sassy and her mother, Mrs. Peale, had been involved, nobody else except the prosecuting attorney and the judge and the public defender had knowledge about the case. Not that any of them would disclose it.

She was probably worrying unnecessarily. She smiled at Jillian. “You are right. He’ll never get the ranch,” she agreed.

They pulled up at the house. It had been given a makeover and it looked glorious.

“You’ve done a lot of work on this place,” Jillian commented. “I remember what it looked like before.”

“So do I. John wanted to go totally green here, so we have solar power and wind generators. And the electricity in the barn runs on methane from the cattle refuse.”

“It’s just fantastic,” Jillian commented. “Expensive, too, I’ll bet.”

“That’s true, but the initial capital outlay was the highest. It will pay for itself over the years.”

“And you’ll have lower utility bills than the rest of us,” Jillian sighed, thinking about her upcoming one. It had been a colder than usual winter. Heating oil was expensive.

“Stop worrying,” Sassy told her. “Things work out.”

“You think?”

They walked down the hall toward the master bedroom. “How’s your mother?” Jillian asked.

“Doing great. She got glowing reports from her last checkup,” Sassy said. The cancer had been contained and her mother hadn’t had a recurrence, thanks to John’s interference at a critical time. “She always asks about you.”

“Your mother is the nicest person I know, next to you. How about Selene?”

The little girl was one Mrs. Peale had adopted. She was in grammar school, very intelligent and with definite goals. “She’s reading books about the Air Force,” Sassy laughed. “She wants to be a fighter pilot.”

“Wow!”

“That’s what we said, but she’s very focused. She’s good at math and science, too. We think she may end up being an engineer.”

“She’s smart.”

“Very.”

Sassy opened the closet and started pulling out dresses and skirts and blouses in every color under the sun.

Jillian just stared at them, stunned. “I’ve never seen so many clothes outside a department store,” she stammered.

Sassy chuckled. “Neither did I before I married John. He spoils me rotten. Every birthday and holiday I get presents from him. Pick something out.”

“You must have favorites that you don’t want to loan,” Jillian began.

“I do. That’s why they’re still in the closet,” she said with a grin.

“Oh.”

Sassy was eyeing her and then the clothes on the bed. “How about this?” She picked up a patterned blue skirt, very long and silky, with a pale blue silk blouse that had puffy sleeves and a rounded neckline. It looked demure, but it was a witchy ensemble. “Try that on. Let’s see how it looks.”

Jillian’s hands fumbled. She’d never put on something so expensive. It fit her like a glove, and it felt good to move in, as so many clothes didn’t. She remarked on that.

“Most clothes on the rack aren’t constructed to fit exactly, and the less expensive they are, the worse the fit,” Sassy said. “I know, because I bought clothes off the sales rack all my life before I married. I was shocked to find that expensive clothes actually fit. And when they do, they make you look better. You can see for yourself.”

Jillian did. Glancing in the mirror, she was shocked to find that the skirt put less emphasis on her full hips and more on her narrow waist. The blouse, on the other hand, made her small breasts look just a little bigger.

“Now, with your hair actually down and curled, instead of screwed up into that bun,” Sassy continued, pulling out hairpins as she went and reaching for a brush, “you’ll look so different that Ted may not even recognize you. What a difference!”

It was. With her long blond hair curling around her shoulders, she looked really pretty.

“Is that me?” she asked, shocked.

Sassy grinned. “Sure is.”

She turned to her friend, fighting tears. “It’s so nice of you,” she began.

Sassy hugged her. “Friends look out for each other.”

They hadn’t been close friends, because Sassy’s home problems had made that impossible before her marriage. But they were growing closer now. It was nice to have someone she could talk to.

She drew away and wiped at her eyes. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to do that.”

“You’re a nice person, Jilly,” Sassy told her gently. “You’d do the same for me in a heartbeat, if our situations were reversed, and you know it.”