A Texas Holiday Reunion

“I better do something about supper.” Annette stood.

“You don’t have to slave over us.” Colson finished the prince’s hair. “I’ll make us sandwiches or something.”

“Nonsense. Cheyenne needs more than deli meat to grow on.” She headed for the kitchen.

This hiccup would be rough on all of them. New surroundings for Cheyenne. Her biological family—still in the dark—within a stone’s throw. Dad and Annette uprooting their lives, sharing a house with Colson.

If his dad only knew the pickle Colson was in. But he’d let Dad down so much in the past. And Dad had never asked much of him. The least he could do was keep the McCall ranch running well during their absence. He’d just have to ignore Resa.

The doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it. But it feels funny answering the McCalls’ door.” Dad hurried to the front of the house.

Colson could hear a feminine voice. He couldn’t make out the words, but he knew it was definitely Resa, making herself hard to ignore. Two sets of footfalls sounded as they made their way back to the great room.

Colson stiffened. No, Dad, keep her away from Cheyenne.

Maybe he should have told him the truth. But he knew his dad would want him to tell Resa. And he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t risk losing Cheyenne.

Colson looked up, shifted his position as his old rodeo injury flared heat through his shoulder.

“Isn’t this nice.” Dad held a large red pot with hot pads. “Resa brought us chicken and dumplings. And perfect timing, since Annette was just about to rustle us up a meal. I better go head her off.” He continued toward the kitchen.

“I love to color.” Resa shoved her hands in her pockets. Awkward, but her eyes softened as she watched Cheyenne. There was no judgment or teasing toward him, even though he currently held a crayon labeled cornflower blue.

Cheyenne’s gaze never left her work; her crayon never stopped moving.

“We didn’t get to meet this morning. I’m Resa.” She strolled over, then settled across from Cheyenne.

She glanced up at Resa, her eyes widening because of this new adult invading her space, then focused once again on her picture.

“I really like the princess’s hair pink.” Resa smiled.

Seeing Cheyenne’s pale blue eyes didn’t seem to bring any new awareness to Resa.

Colson relaxed a bit.

“My teacher always wanted me to make it yellow, or brown, or black,” his daughter murmured. “But I told her pink is for girls.”

How had Resa gotten her talking? Usually Cheyenne clammed up around anyone she didn’t know.

“I like the way you think.”

Cheyenne glanced up at her again.

“I always wished I had purple hair.” Resa tentatively reached over, twirled a strand of Cheyenne’s hair around her finger.

“Really?” Cheyenne’s crayon broke. “Uh-oh.” She reached for another pink one. “But pink would be better.”

“I agree. Maybe we can color together sometime.”

“Maybe.” Cheyenne’s voice rose an octave. Interested? Or nervous?

Resa stood. “I’ll let myself out.”

The right thing to say battled in Colson’s throat. “Sure you don’t wanna stay for supper, since you cooked it?”

“I appreciate the offer. But I’m good.”

“Thanks for the dumplings.” Relief ebbed through his stiff muscles. “My favorite.”

“Yeah, I remember.” She shrugged. “And most kids like them. I didn’t know what Mom left in the fridge or if Annette had a chance to go shopping. So I thought I’d help y’all get settled in.” She scurried for the door. “See you tomorrow.”

And the next day. And the one after that. He rolled over on his back.

“Daddy, you’re not finished.”

“I know, princess. Just resting my shoulder.” She wiggled over to him, buried her head in his chest.

He’d passed the test. Resa had seen Cheyenne up close and personal. And hadn’t figured out that Emmett was his daughter’s true father.

Chapter Four

Christmas lights bordered the entire storefront, casting a glow on Jed. Rustick’s former furniture crafter had his head bent, intent on his work.

“Morning, Jed.” Resa neared the church pew that had sat outside her family’s store for as long as she could remember. The grizzled man seated there was as much of a fixture as the pew. Wood chips and curls surrounded his feet as he dug his knife into the stock of the cane, forming an intricate pattern.

He looked up from his work, gave her a wink. “Morning.”

“Got that cane about finished? I may have it sold.” She adjusted the blueprint tube under her arm.

“I’m working as fast as these hands will let me.” They were gnarled and twisted with arthritis, but that didn’t stop him.

“It’s starting to get cold. You know you’re always welcome in the workroom.”

“It’s still pleasant enough so far. Your folks’ ceremony sure was nice. How’s the cruise?”

“I’m worrying they may decide to never come home. They’ve been sending me pictures from the ship. I can’t believe this is only the second day they’ve been gone.”

“Heard about Juan.” Jed nodded, never looking up from his task. “And the Kincaid boy.”

“You probably remember Colson when he trained with Dad and Mac here. Before we expanded to San Antonio.” Her heart did a painful thud. Why was it still hard to say his name? “I better get inside. I’m meeting with a client.”

She entered the store. There was a massive tree by the door covered in rustic wooden star, cross and dove ornaments—each intricately carved by Jed long ago. Christmas lights surrounded cedar mirrors, barnwood-framed paintings and even an ash dining table.

“Morning, Nina. The decorations look nice.”

“Thank you.” Tall, with salt-and-pepper hair and always stylish from head to toe, Nina had been with the store since Resa’s teenage years.

There were no customers yet. “Everything running smoothly here?”

“Like a well-oiled machine. Heard from your folks?”

“Having the time of their lives. Show Mrs. Birmingham to the conference room when she arrives.”

“Of course.”

Resa continued to the back of the store, entered the conference room, removed the blueprints from the tube and arranged them on the long table. Nina had been here, too. A small fiber-optic tree lit a shelf in one corner of the room.

The phone at the end of the table buzzed. An in-house call.

She grabbed it. “Resa speaking.”

“Colson Kincaid would like to see you.” Nina’s tone was all business.

But the phone almost slid from Resa’s grasp. The soft, instrumental, Christian background music usually soothed her, but every nerve ending she possessed jangled.

Nina cleared her throat on the other end of the line.

“Give me a minute.” Resa sucked in a quivery breath. “And then send him in.” She hung up, pressed her hands on the glossy live edge cypress table. Counted to ten. Out loud.

A knock sounded at the door.

She straightened, raised her chin. “Come in.”

“Sorry to bother you, but the feed store won’t let me put anything on the ranch account.” Hat clasped to his chest, Colson cocked an eyebrow.

Why could she never get enough air when he was around? His mere presence drained all oxygen from the room.

“I’m sorry. I failed to let them know you were on staff.” She grabbed a paper clip from the corner of the table, straightening and bending it between her fingers. “I have a meeting with a client, but I’ll make the call as soon as we’re finished.”

“I thought maybe you’d decided to work here to avoid me.” He sank into one of the chairs at the long table, ignoring her subtle hint for him to go.

She swallowed hard. No. She wouldn’t fall under his spell. It had been six years since he’d broken her heart. And she hadn’t missed him. Not one iota.

Even though she understood why he’d left her, he should have been man enough to tell her the truth instead of pulling a disappearing act.

“I’m not hiding.” Her mouth went taut and she gestured to the blueprints. “I’m meeting with your mother-in-law, actually.” Or was it former mother-in-law, since Felicity’s death?

“Hyacinth is coming here?” He jumped up, clamped his hat on his head.

“Any minute. I was shocked when she placed the order. Her first one with us. Always struck me as the Queen Anne type, but apparently her husband bought a cabin.”

“I have to get out of here.” He strode to the door.

The phone buzzed. “That’s probably her.” Did they not get along?

“I haven’t told her we’re here yet.” Colson scanned the room as if looking for a place to bust through the wall. “It’s complicated—I wanted to get Cheyenne settled first.”

“I’ll hold her off if you want to slip out the back.” Resa picked up the phone. “Yes, Nina.”

“Mrs. Birmingham is here.”

“Give me a few minutes.” She hung up, gestured to the back of the building. “Turn right in the hall.”

“Thanks.” He opened the door.

“Colson?” Hyacinth Birmingham said from a distance.

But not for long. Colson backed into the conference room as his mother-in-law approached.

Hyacinth stalked inside, her nose in the air. “I didn’t know you were in town.”

Nina was right on her heels.

“Thank you for showing Mrs. Birmingham in,” Resa told her. More like blasted her way in.

Nina splayed her hands, stepped out and shut the door.

“Is Cheyenne with you?” The woman, a San Antonio blue blood, was positively irate.

And Resa wanted to bolt for the door herself.

“I was going to call you.” Colson’s tone attempted to soothe.

“How long will you be here? When can we see Cheyenne?”

“I’m the foreman at Resa’s ranch until Christmas Eve. We’ll set something up soon.”

Hyacinth’s fists clenched. “Almost all month. Why haven’t you called us?”

Oh dear. “Colson just arrived Sunday and it was all very last-minute,” Resa interjected. “I’m certain he’d love for you to see your granddaughter.”

Why was she defending him? Because she didn’t need this kind of drama in her store? Because she’d seen the evidence that he was a good father?

Both. But also probably because it was happening all over again—she was being drawn to him.

“Who’s watching her while you’re at work? What about school?”

“She’s with Annette and they’re staying brushed up on her preschooling, so she’ll be ready for kindergarten next year.”

“Of course.” Hyacinth looked toward the ceiling. “A woman she’s no blood relation to.”

Colson’s jaw tensed; his eyes turned steely. “Are you offering to preschool her?” His voice dripped with sarcasm.

If only Resa could melt through the floor.

“Of course not. But she could stay with us. We keep a nanny on staff.”

“Absolutely not.” He swallowed hard. “I like having her near and she loves Annette, who’s actually a teacher.”

“Just wait until Nigel hears about this.” Hyacinth propped her hands on her hips. “I can’t believe you plan to keep Cheyenne away from us. How dare you—after you killed our daughter.”

Resa swung her gaze to Colson.

All color drained from his face.

* * *

“It’s not like that, Hyacinth. I can assure you.” Colson clenched his teeth. “I was just trying to get Cheyenne settled in. You know it’s hard for her to adjust to change.” And she’s scared of you. Actually, truth be told, he was, too.

“Well, having her grandparents near would lessen the change.” Her nose went higher in the air. Still snooty.

“Mimi. Let’s go already.” Hyacinth’s other granddaughter, Jasmine, now nine or so, flounced into the conference room. Hands on hips, tapping her Gucci-clad foot, she was the spitting image of her mother—Felicity’s sister, Lucinda—in looks and attitude.

“I’m sorry.” Nina rushed in. “She got away from me.”

“Jasmine.” Hyacinth glared at Nina. “I told you to stay with the nice lady.”

“It’s okay, Nina. Babysitting isn’t in your job description.” Resa smiled at her flustered employee, then turned to her customer. “I’m sorry, but my floor manager has work to do.”

Hyacinth tugged at the hem of her thousand-dollar jacket. “I didn’t have any choice other than to bring her. The nanny just up and quit. With no notice.”

Colson had a pretty good idea why. He slipped his phone from his pocket. “Jasmine can play a game on my cell while you and Resa talk furniture.”

“Puhlease. I’ve got my own phone.” The little girl crossed her arms and perched on the edge of the sofa, as if she didn’t plan to stay long.

He couldn’t risk alienating a wealthy client like Hyacinth by giving her rude grandchild a tongue-lashing. If she left the store unhappy, half of Texas would hear about it. Besides, he needed to stay in her good graces. Make her irate enough and she just might try to take Cheyenne from him. Especially if the truth got out.

“I’m excited about your desk and I’m glad you’re here.” Resa pulled out a chair. “I’ve got some ideas I wanted to run by you.”

“Maybe I should come back once I get a new nanny. Come along, Jasmine.” Hyacinth patted her immovable hair, tucked in a perfect chignon at the base of her neck. He’d made the mistake of calling it a bun once.

The little girl spewed out an exasperated sigh and flounced to the door.

“Call me, Colson.” Hyacinth pursed her lips. “We’ll expect a visit tonight.”

“Aren’t you taking Cheyenne to the Trail of Lights tonight?” Resa asked.

Huh? Was she giving him a reprieve?

“I was so busy with my parents’ renewal service, we missed the parade,” she added. “But the lights are on until New Year’s. Why don’t you join us, Hyacinth?”

Did she just throw him under the tractor?

“Oh, I don’t know.” His mother-in-law pinched the high-dollar fabric of her skirt. “Nigel and I don’t usually bother.”

“I’ll arrange a hayride for us. Bring Jasmine along.”

“Excuse me.” The girl rolled her eyes. “I’m too old for baby stuff.”

“Well, I’m not.” Resa shot the child a wink. “We’ll see you there, Hyacinth?”

The older woman’s mouth opened, closed, opened again.

At a loss for words. Something he’d never seen. He needed to take lessons from Resa on how to handle her.

“I’m bored, Mimi,” Jasmine whined.

“All right.” Hyacinth took her by the hand. “I guess we’ll see you tonight.”

“You can’t make me go,” the girl wailed as Hyacinth ushered her out.

When the door shut behind them, Colson blew out a big breath. “That’s why I haven’t called them. I don’t want Hyacinth turning Cheyenne into a snooty copy of herself.”

Or discovering the truth. “Felicity had her faults, but she was nothing like the other women in her family. They’ve seen Cheyenne exactly three times, and Hyacinth only clamored for more because she had an audience today. Cheyenne’s afraid of her.” A bitter laugh escaped him. “I kind of am, too.”

“Me, too.” Resa giggled. “But I don’t mind taking her money.”

Colson squeezed his eyes closed, tried to block out the image. “I didn’t kill Felicity.”

“I know.”

“You do?”

“You’d be in jail if you did.”

“She was taking a horse I’d recently broken for a ride. We had an argument and she took off. The horse threw her.” Clear as the day it happened he could still see Felicity lying there, her neck at an odd angle. “I should have known the horse wasn’t safe.”

“You couldn’t have known. Horses are unpredictable. Not even you can read their minds.”

“I shouldn’t have argued with her. Not with her on the horse. I probably agitated him.”

Resa’s slim hand touched his arm. “It’s not your fault.”

He met her gaze. Her hand fell away. His guilt didn’t budge.

“Why did you give me the perfect excuse to avoid Hyacinth tonight and then insist she come along?”

“If you don’t arrange for Cheyenne to spend time with her, the woman might get ugly about it.”

True enough. She might take him to court. Which might lead to DNA testing. Which would prove he had no claim on Cheyenne.

“This way, your daughter will enjoy herself, even though Hyacinth will be there. I figured it was better than a one-on-one situation.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“So are you and Cheyenne coming?”

“We’re in.” It went against all his plans of keeping Cheyenne away from her biological family. But Resa obviously hadn’t caught on—even though Cheyenne was a miniature version of her. “We’ll meet you there.”

“See you around seven?”

“We’ll be there.”

“In the meantime, don’t you have a ranch to run?”

“The feed store.”

“Oh yes. Sorry.” Resa rolled up the blueprints, stashed them in a cardboard tube and tucked it under her arm. “I’m done here, so let’s just go there.”

He followed her out. He had to keep the Birminghams happy. And clueless. His gut did a sick twist. If they somehow learned the truth, Hyacinth would stop at nothing to get custody of Cheyenne. To let a nanny raise her. To add the child to her possessions.

Over his dead body.

But Resa couldn’t learn the truth, either. A delicate tightrope stretched taut underneath him. And the wire kept shifting under his feet.

* * *

Despite Colson, his dad and Annette surrounding her, Cheyenne had gone silent and withdrawn when she’d seen Hyacinth.

Resa absorbed all Colson’s tension. Cheyenne’s discomfort was her fault.

Hyacinth reluctantly sat on a hay bale and paid more attention to the damage the straws supposedly made in her pricey pantsuit than to her granddaughter. Jasmine had pulled a no-show. Probably a good thing. Resa’s friends Landry and Chase, along with his parents, made up the rest of the crew. Putting some space between Resa and Colson.

The ranch truck pulling the wagon rounded the corner and they got the first glimpse of the lights. Cheyenne audibly gasped and seemed to forget all about her grandmother.

Nigel Birmingham, just as down-to-earth as his wife was snooty, focused completely on his granddaughter. “There’s a cowboy boot bigger than would fit any cowboy I’ve ever known.” He was clearly intent on soothing her with his heartwarming, silly running commentary on each display.

The little girl giggled, obviously at ease with her grandfather.

“Except Big Tex. You ever been to the State Fair of Texas?”

Cheyenne’s eyes widened. “Daddy took me this year. Big Tex is really big and I was scared of him cause he talks. But Daddy says he’s just a big old statue with a recorded voice and they take him apart and put him in a truck once the fair is over.”

“I think somebody stole Big Tex’s boot. What do you think?”

She giggled again.

“Which one’s yours, Resa?” Nigel asked.

“The nativity.”

“Ah.” He grinned. “It’s nice.”

“Do you have one?”

The wagon hit a pothole, jostling them a bit.

“The angels overlooking the nativity.”

“We have a display?” Hyacinth whipped around to face her husband.

“For years. It doesn’t cost much. You can’t have a nativity without angels, and it makes people happy. You can’t put a price on that, dear.”

“You helped put up the lights, Poppy?” Cheyenne moved a bit closer.

“Nope. I just pay to have the angels put up every year. But there are lots of Christmas festivities to come. We could get in on Singing in the Saddle in a few weeks.”

“Really, Nigel, don’t encourage her.” Hyacinth scoffed.

“What’s Singing in the Saddle?” Cheyenne, her face aglow from the lights surrounding them, ignored her grandmother.

“It’s a trail ride of sorts with caroling. People ride horses or wagons around Bandera.”

“But I don’t want to ride a horse.”

“How about a wagon?” Resa patted the hay bale where she sat. “You can ride in this very wagon.”

“Can we go, Daddy? Can we?”

“We’ll see.”

“It wouldn’t be Christmas caroling without you.” Nigel sent Colson a hopeful smile. “But just in case, we can sing now.” Nigel started “Silent Night” off, his deep rich baritone echoing through the crisp air.

As voices joined, Landry elbowed Resa. “So why is the cowboy still here?”

Resa whispered the explanation.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because it’s no big deal.”

“And the little girl is his?”

“He was married. But his wife died two years ago.”

“Hmm.”

“There’s no ‘hmm.’”

“So why did you invite him on the hayride if you don’t like him?”

“I invited Cheyenne on the hayride.” She whispered the whole thing about Hyacinth demanding a visit.

“And you care about this child because?”

“I don’t know.” Resa shrugged. “She’s just a little girl. Who lost her mother. And now she’s had to move away from everything she’s ever known because of me. The least I can do is ease her discomfort with Christmas lights.”

“Hmm.”

“You already said that. It’s temporary. They’ll only be here until my parents get back. And then they’ll move back to Kingsville.”

So why did that thought make her feel sad and lonely?

Chapter Five

Colson pulled into the lit church parking lot and parked.

“Do we have to go here, Daddy?” The insecure little voice from the back seat tugged at his insides.

“God wants us to gather for worship and fellowship.” And maybe there would be kids her age to make friends with and help with her transition.

“I know. But it’s big and scary.”

“Church isn’t scary. You may not know the people here, but church folks are usually nice. Grandpa Mac and Nette will be here.” He closed his eyes. “And Resa.”

“Really?”

“Yep.”

“Okay.”

He got out, opened the back door and helped her down from her car seat, which she’d already unfastened. Hand in hand, they crossed the parking lot and slipped inside. Several people greeted them and he immediately felt welcomed, just as when he’d attended six years before. But none of the greeters had any children with them. And as each person spoke to them, Cheyenne withdrew more.

Resa was already here, flanked by Landry and Chase on one side, Annette and his dad on the other. She looked up when he took his seat beside Dad. Colson flashed her a smile. She waved as he settled Cheyenne in his lap. Thankfully, the pianist started up and the song director called out a page number.

The stained glass windows splashed multicolored prisms on the walls. Not much had changed. The hundred-year-old church was like a time capsule. If only it could comfort Cheyenne the way it did him.

Three songs later, all the kids and a few adults got up and headed for the back of the sanctuary. Except Cheyenne. Apparently they had classes on Wednesday night, but he knew she’d never go.

A kind-eyed lady stopped at their pew. “I’m Marilyn Whitlow.”

“I’m Colson Kincaid and this is Cheyenne.” Little arms wrapped around his neck.

“What a pretty name. You look just about the age to come to my class. We’ll read a story about Jesus, maybe do some coloring and sing some songs. Would you like to join us?”

Cheyenne buried her face in his chest.

“Maybe next time.”

“Of course.” Marilyn turned away.

“Is she gone?” The muffled question was warm against his heart.

“Yes. But she seemed really nice and you love to color. Wouldn’t you rather go have fun with kids than stay here with me?”

“Don’t make me go.”

“It’s okay. You can stay with me.” He rubbed her back.

“Can I sit in Resa’s lap?”

The breath went out of his lungs. “I’m not sure she’s up for that.” He sure wasn’t.

“Please.”

He leaned forward, looked around Dad and Annette.

Resa noticed him.

She wants to sit with you, he mouthed.

A smile took over her entire face and she nodded.

“She said yes.”

Cheyenne pulled away from him, taking a piece of his heart with her. She clambered down, over Dad’s and Annette’s feet, and Resa helped his child into her lap.