Yuletide Cowboy

“Momma, we like him,” Jack said the minute he climbed into the seat and buckled his seat belt.

“Yeah,” Gavin added, meeting her gaze in the rearview. “Maybe he can teach me how to bull ride.”

“There won’t be any bull riding for you, mister.”

“Aw, Momma. I ain’t gonna git myself kilt or anything. Chance ain’t dead and neither is Bob or Trace.”

Bob Jacobs had been a bull fighter and Trace Crawford had ridden bulls, too. Both men had survived and many other cowboys around town had, too. Still the thought of her little boys growing up to be bull riders didn’t sit well with her. “You concentrate on being a little boy and leave the bull riding to the men.”

“Aw, Momma, you ain’t got to worry. Don’tcha know I’m gonna be the best there ever was.”

The hair at the back of her neck prickled but she decided the best thing for now was to let it go. The less said on this subject the better. At least she prayed that was so.

“Well, sugar baby, I think you’re the best there ever was already.”

“What about me, Momma?” Jack asked.

She turned in her seat. “You know I’m talking about you, too. God must have thought I was pretty special to have blessed me with the two best boys in all of the world.”

Chapter Two

“So how are you? Did you get settled into the stagecoach house all right?” Wyatt asked.

Chance hadn’t wasted any time getting back to the ranch after his meeting with Lynn Perry and her twins. He’d just climbed into the saddle when Wyatt rode into the yard.

“I’m fine. And yes, I’m settled. How are you? You’re looking good. And I’m happy to see you in the saddle again.”

Wyatt had insisted on saddling a horse and riding with him. Wyatt sitting in the saddle was a good thing to see, since less than six months ago after his plane crash he’d been relegated to a wheelchair.

Wyatt’s lip hitched as he urged his horse forward. “I have the best physical therapist in the world.”

Wyatt’s wife was his PT. They’d met when she’d come to help him recover. Chance had performed their wedding just a few months earlier and had never expected to be here now. “You don’t look like you’re doing all right,” Wyatt said, shooting Chance one of his penetrating looks. “So don’t tell me you’re fine. Look, Chance, I know you feel responsible somehow for that bull rider’s death but you know as well as I do that it’s a profession full of risks.”

Perspiration beaded beneath the brim of his hat and his fingers clenched the reins too tightly. Willing himself to relax, Chance studied the flat pasture and welcomed the cold wind on his cheeks and the sting in his eyes. It gave him a barrier to the bitter chill that ran through him each time he thought of Randy. How could he sweat bullets and feel cold to the bone at the same time? Guilt, that’s how. Gut-wrenching, soul-shredding guilt could make him sick as a dog it tore him up so bad.

“Talk to me, Chance.”

“I let him die. Nothing you can say will convince me that I didn’t do what I should have done.” I’m just not ready, had been Randy’s last words to Chance before he’d climbed over the rail and settled onto the bull’s back. For the last five years Chance had held services every Sunday morning before a rodeo and then he’d stood on the platform with any cowboy who asked. Randy had wanted him there until a few weeks before his death. He’d stopped attending services and avoided him for weeks prior to his last ride. Instead of seeking Randy out, Chance had let other things distract him from going to Randy and showing his concern. Chance knew he was hanging with a rough crowd. He’d known Randy was in danger and yet he hadn’t gone the extra mile to try and help him.

“Randy didn’t give his life to the Lord. Never accepted the gift of salvation that Jesus offers every person.” Wyatt listened intently. “It haunts me.” Chance lowered his head for a minute with the weight of the guilt. “I didn’t step up when he needed me the most.”

“But you were there on his last ride.”

He jerked his head up. “Yeah, I was. But he still wasn’t ready to commit. I don’t know why he asked me that night. It’s like he knew in his gut that his time was running out but he couldn’t do it. I don’t know, Wyatt. I have been over it and over it a thousand times in my mind and I can’t figure out what I did wrong. I presented him with every verse and concept about salvation that I could come up with. And I always come up empty…and he always comes up dead. I can’t shake knowing that I should have done more. At least stopped him from getting on that bull when I knew he might be doing drugs. It—”

“You can’t hold yourself accountable for that.”

But he did, and the assortment of prescription drugs that had been found in Randy’s gear only made it worse.

“I should have stepped in. Rumor had it that it he’d got ten hooked on painkillers after his shoulder injury. His eyes were glazed when I looked at him the moment be fore the gate opened. And I didn’t say anything.”

Saying the words was hard for him. Chance knew that logically Randy’s death wasn’t his fault but that didn’t change the way he felt.

“What could you have said? The ride was already in motion. You have to let it go, Chance. I’m telling you it’s not your fault.” Wyatt’s expression was etched with determination. That was Wyatt, always wanting to charge in and save the day. But not this time.

Chance gave a short shake of his head and stared into the distant horizon. He’d messed up. There was no way to wash Randy’s blood from his hands. “By omission I let that kid die both physically and spiritually. How am I supposed to live with that?”

“That isn’t true,” Wyatt snapped, his eyes flashing.

“It isn’t. You aren’t a superhero. The kid was on drugs and he was avoiding you. I get that you hold yourself up to a higher standard, but come on, Chance, let it go.”

“I can’t, Wyatt. And until I can come to terms with it, there’s no way I can stand up in front of a bunch of cowboys or a congregation feeling the way I do. Knowing what I’ve done.”

“Lynn, you need to bid on a bachelor tomorrow night.”

Lynn looked up from the centerpiece she was arranging for one of the many tables set up in rows in the community center. Several ladies were scattered about decorating the room for tomorrow night’s fundraiser for the women’s shelter.

“I’m helping with the benefit, Norma Sue, but I’m not taking part. I’ve already told you that.”

Norma Sue Jenkins hooked her thumb around the strap of her ample overalls, tilted her kinky gray head to the side and grunted, “Hogwash.”

“Now, Norma, none of that,” Adela Ledbetter-Green admonished in a gentle voice that always made Lynn think of the sugar and spice and everything nice that little girls were made of. God’s goodness and grace just radiated from her with a sincerity that made everyone around her feel happier just by being there. It was that loving, sweet spirit that could be misleading to some at times. Because within the elegant, almost fragile-looking form of Adela beat the strong heart of a woman of wisdom, unafraid to speak her mind and give advice and direction whenever she felt the need. Obviously she felt the need, and for that Lynn was grateful.

“Thank you,” Lynn said, more than glad to have her support.

Adela smiled and studied her with vibrant peacock-blue eyes. “Well, dear, I didn’t say I didn’t agree with Norma Sue. I do. I simply think she should be more tempered in her encouragement.”

And here Lynn had been thinking all these good thoughts about her!

“Honey, don’t look at me so surprised. We just love you to death and want you to be happy.”

“I am happy. I just don’t want to be pushed.” Not even by these ladies she loved so much. And she knew how they could push when they got it in their heads that a woman needed to be matched up and married off.

“There will be plenty of women here for y’all to mix and match without me.”

“But what about your boys?” Esther Mae Wilcox, their third partner in crime, huffed as she scooted from the table on the other side of Norma Sue. She wore a red velour warm-up suit that clashed totally with her bright, reddish-orange hair. “Don’t you think it’s time to at least go on one date?” At her impatient tone she glanced Adela’s way. “Yes, I know I’m pushing when we said we were going to go at this nice and easy. But Adela, I just can’t.” She hit Lynn with her green eyes.

“You were the strongest woman who climbed off that bus two years ago. You have jumped into life here in town with ease and have given your moral support and encouragement to all the other women who have passed through the doors of No Place Like Home. You are al ways working to help others move forward with their lives and yet you don’t.”

Lynn couldn’t deny any of this. It was true. She’d at tended every class at the shelter on overcoming being a battered wife. Every class on coping. Every class under any name, anything that would help her be the woman she needed to be for her boys. She could tell others how to do it and she could help her friends when they needed her. Outwardly she seemed to have her act together and so everyone assumed she did. “Esther Mae, I just moved my boys into their very own home. That’s moving forward. I’m happy. I’m content and I’m not bidding on a bachelor.”

“Did I hear you say you weren’t bidding?” Lacy Brown Matlock asked, coming up behind Lynn. The hugely pregnant hair stylist pulled out a chair beside Lynn and eased down into it. “I’m telling y’all that the doc says this little gal of mine is coming no sooner than two weeks out, but mark my word it’ll be sooner rather than later. This baby has a mind of her own and is trying to kick her way out right now!”

Relieved to have someone else join in the conversation, Lynn chuckled. “She’s independent like her mom ma.” And they didn’t come any more independent than Lacy. She’d moved to Mule Hollow after reading the matchmakers’ ad in the newspaper. Just like that, the spunky blonde had followed her heart, determined that if women answered the ad for wives they would not only need their hair and nails done to catch their men, but also they just might need the Lord. Lynn had arrived at the shelter, spirit verging on broken, and gained much inspiration from Lacy. She also knew that Lacy was as much a cupid as the other three ladies. “Independent is the truth,” Norma Sue echoed. “I have a feeling Lacy’s baby girl is going to hit the ground running.”

Esther Mae grinned. “None of us will be able to keep up with the live wire she’s destined to be.”

“Lacy will,” Adela added, reaching across to pat Lacy’s arm. “You do look tired though.”

She did. Lynn could see fatigue in the high-octane blue of Lacy’s eyes. She was glad for the distraction from the subject of Chance, but she wished Lacy didn’t look so weary. “Are you sleeping?”

Lacy waved a cherry-pink-tipped hand. “Sleep, what’s that? I gave that up weeks ago.” She laughed good-naturedly. “Clint says the baby is taking after me with its impetuous nature. We never know when she’s going to settle down and when she’s not. If I knew, then maybe I’d get some sleep. But when I lay down—at night or even for a little nap—she starts kicking.”

“How’s Clint holding up?” Lynn liked Clint. The hard-working cattleman sometimes looked at a loss for the things his wife came up with, but there was always a glowing admiration and love in his eyes…even though she’d seen a time or two when he was exasperated. Lacy tended to do that to people though. She got so caught up in what she envisioned for couples that she often acted before thinking things through. Despite that, he loved her…or actually, from what Lynn observed, he loved her because of it. Lynn wouldn’t know what that was like. In her marriage she’d learned, slowly, not to voice her opinion, much less make an impulsive move. It had happened over time, practically sneaking up on her. The mental abuse started long before the beatings had occurred.

“Lynn, so you aren’t going to bid?”

Lacy’s words pelted through the fog of memory like buckshot. “No. I’m not.” She braced herself for Lacy to jump on the bandwagon.

“Too bad. I’ve been praying God would lead the right man to town for you and your boys.” Lacy rubbed her extended belly and took a long breath.

“Lacy, you look really tired,” Lynn said, concerned.

“Why don’t you call it a night?” Norma Sue called out. “You’re standing on your feet too much.”

Lacy gave a smile—not her normally exuberant one but a smile nonetheless. “You’ve been talking to Sheri! I sit down when I need to—”

“Ha!” Sheri exclaimed from her perch on a ladder across the room. She cocked her spiky brown head to the side and looked down from where she’d been tacking up red-and-blue bandanna decorations. “You lie, Lacy Matlock! You don’t sit down nearly as much as you should. If it were up to me I’d hog-tie you to a couch and make you stay there till our baby comes.”

Lacy laughed. “Okay, okay, I get it. I’ve promised Clint that I’m going to start taking it easy so y’all relax and let me talk to Lynn.” Lacy’s eyes twinkled like they usually did when she was inspired. “You should bid on Chance. If not for yourself then for him. The man could use some distraction, I think. And you and your sweet boys might just be what the doc upstairs has in mind for him.”

Inwardly Lynn groaned as all eyes returned to her. Lacy, the sneak, was trying to turn the tables on her. “I’m not bidding on Chance or anyone else…”

Chance pulled into a parking space in front of Sam’s Diner and got out of the truck. There was no way he could come home and not drop by for breakfast at Sam’s. His cousins’ trucks were lined up along the plank sidewalk and he knew he was running late. Hurrying, he pushed open the diner’s heavy swinging door to find Lynn Perry standing on the other side. She was carrying a stack of carryout boxes and coffee in a paper cup. When she saw him she stopped in her tracks.

For a little while the day before, he’d rolled over their meeting in his head, and for the life of him he couldn’t stop thinking about her. There was something about her that had edged under his collar and wouldn’t let go. She was pretty, with her dark hair and shimmering midnight eyes, but he’d sensed a tough girl underneath her soft image. A tough girl determined to make it for herself and her boys. He liked that.

But she had a keep-your-distance wall erected around her and it was firmly in place right now, even though she was smiling at him.

He tipped his hat and gave her his best smile. “How are you this morning?”

“Great. How are you? I hope you didn’t have any lingering aches and pains from yesterday. The boys really didn’t mean to lay you out like that.”

“I’m fine. Don’t worry about me. I’ve been thrown from horses and bulls that make being taken out by two pint-sized four-year-olds a piece of cake.”

She flinched prettily. “It still had to hurt, but I’m glad to see you aren’t limping.”

“Like I said before, only my pride was hurt.”

“Yes, well, that’s good—I mean it’s good that’s all that was hurt.”

She sidestepped him to go out the door. “Here, let me,” he said, pressing his back to the swinging door and opening it. She edged past him and he got the sweet scent of chocolate as she passed. He couldn’t help but lean her way—just his luck, she turned and caught him. “You, ahhh—” What? “You smell good. Is that choc o late?” Slick, Turner. Way to stick a boot in your mouth.

She colored rose-pink and he could tell he’d flustered her. He’d flustered himself! He could flirt with the best of them but it had been a while since he’d done it. He was about as rusty as a bucket of wet nails.

“I’ve been mixing chocolate bars since seven.”

“Sweet. I mean, sweet job.”

He figured she was probably ready to toss her coffee on him but she chuckled instead and walked off without another word. She probably thought he was a lost cause. Come to think of it, maybe he was. He watched her cross the street and push open the door to the candy store.

“You jest gonna stand thar and stare all day or ya gonna come in and have a bite to eat?”

He should have known Applegate Thornton would be sitting at his usual seat by the window. The old coot’s booming voice probably could be heard across the street at the candy store. But at least it had Chance moving back inside and not standing halfway out on the side walk.

Ignoring the laughter from the table in the center of the room where his cousins were sitting, he strode to the window table to see App and his buddy Stanley Orr. “It’s good to see you two are still holding down the fort. How’s it going?”

Applegate grinned. “We ain’t doin’ nearly as good as you, son. Lynn was lookin’ mighty sweet at you. Stanley, you ever seen Lynn lookin’ at anybody like that?”

Stanley was slightly balding, plump and about the easiest-going man Chance had ever been around. “Nope, can’t say I have. You got a ticket to the steak dinner tomorrow night?”

“Yes, he has a ticket,” Cole called from the table where he, Wyatt and Seth were watching Chance like hawks.

“I didn’t buy a ticket.”

“The ranch bought it for you,” Seth said.

He took the fourth cane-backed chair at the table and sank into it. “I don’t remember saying I wanted to at tend a steak dinner.”

“It’s for a good cause,” Seth said, taking a drink of his coffee, just as Sam, the owner of the diner, came striding toward their table with coffeepot in hand.

Small and wiry, with a quick step, Sam gave a hearty smile. “It’s good ta see ya, son!” He set a coffee mug in front of Chance then shook his hand fiercely. “I was sure sorry ta hear about that bull rider. A cry’n shame is what that was.” Shaking his head he poured coffee into the mug.

Chance wrapped his hands around the warm cup and felt the stab of deep regret. “Yeah, it was.” All eyes were on him right now. He didn’t want to discuss this.

“All you could be was there fer them if they needed you.”

Chance met Sam’s wise, gray eyes. How could he say that he hadn’t been there for Randy? That in his heart of hearts he felt—

“Yor taken his death pretty hard, ain’t ya?”

“Yes, he is,” Cole answered for him.

Chance met his gaze across the table. His cousin had been running hard from his past for years after his fiancée’s death. He was settled and happy now, thanks to a beautiful country vet named Susan. Cole was more content than he’d ever been and he and Susan were planning on starting a family soon. He’d been through a lot and found solace in helping disaster victims rebuild their homes during the time that he lost his way. Chance stared into the black coffee and wondered if that was what he’d done…lost his way. Ever since that horrible night he just couldn’t think of himself as a pastor. It ate at him.

“That’s what makes you good at what you do, Chance,” Cole continued. “You care. You can’t be a pastor, a shepherd to your sheep, and not care.”

He felt as far away from being a shepherd as he could possibly get. Talk about a gulf…

“So don’t keep beating yourself up with things that were out of your control,” Seth, the control freak of the Turners, added. Chance looked at him in disbelief. Seth grinned. “Yeah, you heard right. That coming from me. I’ve been learning to let God handle things more. Not that it’s been a bed of roses. Old habits are hard to break. But I’m working on it.”

Chance had been handing out advice right and left, thinking he was making sense. Funny how it all seemed out of focus to him right now. “Can we talk about something else?” He didn’t want to be rude but he felt like he was swinging zeros.

Sam squeezed his shoulder. “You were reckless but you always was one to take the world on yor shoulders. You got a big heart, Chance, even after all you went through. I gotta git back ta work, but you listen ta these boys and pull yourself out of this spot yor in. My eggs and bacon’ll help ya. That all right by y’all?”

Everyone gave hearty agreement and Sam strode off on his bowlegs. Chance knew Sam had been referring to Chance’s childhood…he’d long ago come to terms with the fact that his dad had had better things to do than raise his son. Chance had been hard to deal with at an early age and his mother hadn’t known what to do with him. He’d spent many summers here in Mule Hollow with his cousins. Their dad had loved him and treated him like his own, worked him hard and given him as much direction and love as he gave his own sons. But in his early teens Chance had rebelled against his dad’s lack of interest and he’d hit the road…it had been a hard time. Too heavy for him to think about right now.

“Look, Chance, take it from my experience.” Seth glanced around the table at his brothers. “God is in control even when we don’t understand or don’t agree. You’ve given us all that advice at some point in time.”

“Yeah, I was pretty liberal handing it out, wasn’t I?” He grunted, his mood taking a downhill turn and picking up speed.

Wyatt frowned. “You hand out great advice. I owe you and there’s no two ways about it. God sent you to me with the advice I needed to hear just when I needed to hear it. I was about as low as a man can get and you helped me see what I needed to do to help Amanda. You just have to heed your own good advice and give this over to the Lord. We’ve all been where you’re at, and it’s not a fun place to be.”

Applegate and Stanley had been pretending like they were engrossed in their morning checkers game—why they were even pretending was a mystery to Chance. For two men who couldn’t hear they heard everything. It was a miracle beyond understanding, which made Chance smile—some much-needed relief from the downturn of this conversation. App spat a sunflower seed into the brass spittoon at his feet and Stanley did the same. Both hit the opening in the conversation dead-on.

“Sounds ta me like that steak dinner is jest the place you need ta be. Don’t you thank so, Stanley?”

“Yup. Ain’t nothin’ like a good steak and the company of pretty women ta pull a man out of the dumps.”

“A woman is the last thing I need to be thinking about.”

“It ain’t us that caused Lynn ta blush,” App grunted.

“You got a free ticket and a woebegone attitude that needs sprucing up. Put on some starched jeans and a crisp shirt, slap on a little smell-good and join the festivities.”

Sam came out of the kitchen loaded down with plates. Chance had never been so glad to see a plate of eggs in all his life. Maybe putting food in their stomachs would get them off him.

“And speaking of other thangs,” App drawled, his lean face cascading into a dour look. “We need a preacher. No two ways about it. I been thankin’ that thar is the reason the good Lord brought you home.” App had made it clear at Wyatt’s wedding that he thought Chance should come home to Mule Hollow and become the past or of the church. Chance had told him then that he didn’t feel called to preach in a local church. That should have ended the discussion, but App wasn’t known for letting go of things and it looked like he hadn’t let this go either. “So what do ya say?”

Chance looked at the steaming breakfast plate and took a long, slow breath. So much for thinking the food was going to get him off the hot seat.

Chapter Three

The morning after Chance had flustered her by telling her she smelled sweet, Lynn dreamed about him! Oh yeah, but thankfully she was awakened from dreaming about the hunky, dark-haired bachelor by her horse of a dog, Tiny. Her unlikely hero bounded onto her bed and pounced on her with all four of his huge paws! The power of the attack knocked the wind and the dream right out of her.

“Thank you,” she gasped, trying to get her breath back as she stared into Tiny’s pale face. His excited are-you-ready-to-play eyes danced as he gaped at her. She relaxed, relieved to be awake…it wasn’t unusual for her to have nightmares. Though they had slowly become less frequent and they were always about her ex-husband…Dreaming about Chance Turner was disturbing on an entirely different level. Thank goodness for Tiny.