The Cowboy's Family Christmas

Chapter One

It was a surprisingly balmy Tuesday for November. Fall seemed reluctant to leave and Leanne Walsh was fine with that. She had too much to do on the ranch.

Late afternoon sunshine softened the day, creating gentle shadows on the Porcupine Hills of Alberta. A chill cooled the air, a threat of winter coming. Leanne hoped it hung off for at least a week. They still had cows to move down from the upper pastures and then had to process them.

Her son, Austin, sat astride the palomino mare his grandfather purchased a half a year ago when Austin was only two. Leanne had protested the expense but George Walsh insisted that Walshes learned to ride a proper horse as young as possible.

Now Austin was laughing down at her, his shock of brown hair falling over his forehead, his chubby hands clutching the saddle horn, the cowboy hat he’d gotten a couple of weeks ago clamped firmly on his head. Since George had given it to Austin, he’d worn it nonstop.

He looks comfortable up there. George stood by the fence, his arms hooked over the top rail, his battered cowboy hat pushed back on his head. Though he was only fifty-eight, Leanne’s father-in-law looked twenty years older.

Life had knocked a lot out of the man, Leanne thought, acknowledging his gruff comment with a tight nod. He’d lost his first wife to cancer and was left with a young son, then he was abandoned by the second wife, leaving him with another young son. Dirk, his eldest son and Leanne’s late husband, now lay buried in the graveyard abutting the church in Cedar Ridge, and the son of his second marriage, Reuben was so far out of George’s life, he may as well be dead.

Is that mare favoring her one leg? George asked, concern edging his voice.

Leanne watched more carefully as the horse walked, each footfall of Heart’s Delight’s hooves raising small puffs of dust in the round pen. I can’t see it, she said glancing up at her son again, the sight of him pulling her mouth into a full smile. But I’ll keep an eye out.

Not always easy for someone like you to catch that kind of thing.

Someone like you.

Though Leanne knew he spoke of her ability to read horses, those three simple words had the power to make her shoulders hunch and her hands clench the halter rope.

Those three words held a weight of history behind them. George had tossed them at her when he discovered that she, a Rennie, daughter of one of the most hated and useless men in Cedar Ridge, dared to think she could date his favored son, Dirk Walsh, let alone marry him.

I know enough about horses to see if one is lame or not, she finally returned. And if you have any further concerns, we can bring it to see Tabitha or Morgan. Her sister held an equine specialist degree and her fiancé, Morgan Walsh, was a vet. Together they were starting a new vet clinic on some acreage Tabitha owned close to town.

Morgan doesn’t even have his clinic done yet, George groused.

It will be. But for now they can still diagnose any problems Heart’s Delight might have.

George’s only reply was a slight curl of his lip and she fought the urge to defend her sister. Leanne knew it was only because of her marriage to Dirk and because of his grandson, Austin, that George tolerated her presence.

Which had made her even more determined to prove herself to him. Prove she was worthy. As a result she spent every available minute working on the ranch. Showing that she could ride and rope better than any hired hand they had, including their latest, Chad. She did the bookkeeping and dealt with the accountant.

Is Chad coming again tomorrow? Leanne asked.

Their new hired hand had started a couple of days ago but hadn’t come to work yesterday and called in sick today. Which made her wonder if she would have to start looking for another hired hand all over again.

He said he would. Though I don’t know why you hired him. He doesn’t know much about cows or horses, George grumbled.

He’s willing and I think he can be trained. She wanted to say more but the sound of a truck engine caught both their attentions.

The ranch was nestled in a valley, well off the main road snaking through the hills. People arriving at the ranch had to drive along a switchback road that traversed the hill leading down to the ranch. If they didn’t know the road, it could be trouble. And this person was driving far too fast.

Idiot is going to overshoot the second turn, George muttered, pushing away from the fence, irritation edging his voice. Probably some salesman who doesn’t know how to drive his fancy truck in the back of the beyond.

But whoever it was seemed to know the road because, in spite of the speed of the vehicle, the truck easily made it around the corner and then down the tree-lined road toward the ranch. It suddenly slowed at the cattle guard, and as it rattled across, unease niggled through Leanne.

Though the driver seemed familiar with the approach to the Bar W Ranch, Leanne didn’t recognize the black truck with the gleaming grill getting coated with dust.

It made the tight bend past the house, then came toward the corrals. As the driver killed the engine, silence fell again.

The door opened and a tall, broad-shouldered man stepped out wearing a cowboy hat over his collar-length hair. Sunglasses shaded his face and he dropped a cell phone into the pocket of a worn twill shirt, the sleeves rolled up over muscular forearms. Faded blue jeans hugged his hips and his boots were scuffed and worn at the heel.

He started walking toward them with the easy rolling gait of a man who had spent time on a horse. Definitely not a salesman.

Can I help you? George asked, the irritation in his voice shifting to aggression.

Leanne groaned. Please, Lord, she prayed as she led Austin and his horse to the rail fence, don’t let this be one of the officials from the association who promised to come and visit someday.

Seeing George in full-on Walsh mode wouldn’t help their cause. She was the temporary secretary for the Cedar Ridge Rodeo Group. For the past couple years the group had tried to get their town’s rodeo to be a part of the larger Milk River Rodeo Association. They needed all the goodwill they could muster.

This is private land, George continued as the man drew closer.

Here, punkin, why don’t you come down? Leanne asked, tying up the horse and reaching for Austin. She had to intervene before George took a notion to grab the shotgun stashed in the barn behind them.

Leanne lifted her son over the fence, clambered over herself, picked Austin up, then hurried over to where her father-in-law stood, hands planted on his hips, head thrust forward in an aggressive gesture. What’s your business here? George growled.

But the stranger was unfazed by George’s belligerence. A slow smile crawled across his well-shaped mouth, shaded by a scruff of whiskers, and the unease in Leanne grew.

Hey, George, the man said, sweeping his sunglasses off, tucking them in the pocket of his shirt and flicking his cowboy hat back. Been a few years.

Leanne’s legs suddenly went numb. Her heart turned to ice at the sound of that voice. At the sight of those brown eyes, crinkled at the corners.

Reuben Walsh.

Prodigal son come home.

And right behind all her initial reactions came a wave of anger so fierce it threatened to swamp her.

* * *

Reuben Walsh had known his father wouldn’t throw out the welcome mat when he saw him nor kill the fatted calf when he arrived. And he had guessed Leanne wouldn’t be thrilled either.

But the blatant rage in her narrowed eyes was unexpected.

The last time he’d seen her, she’d been lying in a hospital bed, her auburn hair tied up in a tangled ponytail he knew would have driven her crazy. Leanne always wore her thick hair loose, hanging halfway down her back. Always had her nails perfectly done. Always looked amazing even in the simple clothes she tended to wear.

But at that time she lay unconscious, her pale features slack as if she were as dead as her husband, Dirk, was. His brother, Dirk.

She and Dirk had been on their way back from their honeymoon after a quick and unexpected wedding that happened before Reuben had flown back to Cedar Ridge.

To propose to Leanne himself.

He stopped in at the hospital to see her after his brother’s funeral, stood by her bed, the angry questions swirling around his mind unable to be asked, and then he left. Taking his ring and his broken heart with him. He hadn’t been back since. Nor had he and Leanne been in contact.

What could they possibly have to say to each other?

Hey, Leanne, he said, surprised at the hitch in his voice when their eyes met.

To his surprise and disappointment, old feelings gripped his heart.

For years she had occupied his waking thoughts and drifted through his dreams. Now here she stood, Dirk’s widow, with his nephew resting on her hip. Two reminders of the distance between them.

Hey, Reuben.

Her voice was cool and clipped. He felt his own ire rise up, wondering what right she had to be bent out of shape.

What are you doing here? His father’s gruff voice grated and once again Reuben fought the old inferiority his father always created in him.

When Reuben received the email from Owen Herne, chairman of the Cedar Ridge Rodeo Group, asking him to assess the unfinished arena for them, he’d been tempted to delete it. He had no desire to return to Cedar Ridge and face the woman he had loved, now the widow of his forever-favored older brother. And why would he deliberately put himself in the line of his father’s constant disapproval? He had lived with that long enough when he was a teenager.

The last time he was in Cedar Ridge was three years ago to attend his brother’s funeral. George had been so bitter, he hadn’t acknowledged Reuben’s presence. No personal greeting. No question about how he was doing. No recognition of Reuben’s own pain at the loss of a brother.

As for Leanne, she’d still been unconscious and in the hospital. While seeing her so incapacitated had gutted him, in some twisted way it was probably for the best. Reuben wouldn’t have known what to say to her after she’d left him for his brother.

But the tiny part of him that still clung to hope pushed him to come home.

Owen asked me to come talk to the Rodeo Group. About the arena, Reuben said, determined not to let these two show how much influence they had over his life and emotions.

He never said anything to me, George complained.

You’ll have to take that up with him, Reuben said, trying to keep his tone light and conversational. But the ranch was on my way to town. I thought I would stop by and say hello.

It’s been a long time since you were here, George said.

On this point Reuben couldn’t fault him, though he stifled a beat of resentment at his father’s frowning disapproval. Didn’t matter what he did when he was growing up, George criticized him.

Come home with good marks?

Well, he could have done better.

Ride the rankest bronc in the rodeo?

Could have scored higher.

Never as good as his brother. Never as good as Dirk.

It has been a while, Reuben agreed. He wasn’t apologizing for his lack. As the son of the wife who had taken off, Reuben often felt his father held him to account for his mother’s behavior. And Reuben had taken that on, as well, always trying to find ways to earn his gruff father’s approval.

But it never happened. In fact George had made it clear Dirk would take over the ranch when he was old enough and that there was no place for Reuben in spite of all the work he had done here year after year. Reuben left home as soon as he graduated high school. He rode rodeo in the summer and took on any odd job to help pay for his structural engineering classes. He was determined to show his father he could go it alone. Now he had a degree and had already racked up some impressive jobs. Though his heart had always been here in Cedar Ridge, once he discovered that Dirk and Leanne had had a baby, he shelved any hope of coming back.

His eyes drifted again to Leanne, the woman who, at one time, he had dared to weave dreams and plans around.

So, here we are, he said.

Instead of responding, she set his nephew, Austin, on his feet and clung to his chubby little hand. She adjusted the little cowboy hat he wore, then glanced over at George.

Looking everywhere but at him as a tense silence fell between them.

Since she’d moved here with her sister, Tabitha, and her father when she was in high school, Leanne Rennie had only had eyes for his older brother, Dirk. And he knew why. Dirk was the good brother. Steady. Solid. Dependable. A Christian.

Reuben knew exactly who he was. The irresponsible younger brother who could only worship Leanne from afar.

Though Leanne had dated his brother for years and been engaged to Dirk for four of them, Reuben had never been able to completely let go of his feelings for her.

But Dirk held off on setting a wedding date for four years. Then, as if she couldn’t wait any longer, Leanne broke up with Dirk. His brother left for Europe, and he and Leanne met up at his cousin’s destination wedding in Costa Rica. They’d spent two glorious weeks together. She’d confessed that, while she had always wanted the security Dirk could offer, she had a hard time denying her changing feelings for Reuben.

They decided they wanted to be together but she had said that she needed to tell Dirk first. Reuben couldn’t figure out why, but he gave Leanne the space she asked for.

Then when Dirk came back from his trip, the next thing he heard, via his cousin Cord, was that Dirk and Leanne had eloped. Reuben was devastated, hurt, then the anger kicked in and he threw himself into his work. He was determined to prove he didn’t need anyone. That he could be successful.

And he had accomplished that. In two weeks he would be starting with a company that promised him prestige and financial independence.

He thought he had put Leanne out of his mind for good, but seeing her now, even more beautiful than he remembered, created an unwelcome hitch in his heart.

In the uncomfortable silence that lingered, a bird warbled, and the wind rustled through the trees sheltering the house beyond them. No one said anything more.

Well, just thought I’d stop by and say hi. He looked away from his father and Leanne, then crouched down in front of Austin. And I thought I would get to know you, little guy. I’m your uncle Reuben.

Austin pursed his lips, frowning slightly, as if he didn’t believe he had an uncle.

The idea that his only nephew didn’t even know who he was cut almost as deep as Leanne’s chilly attitude.

Wooben, Austin said finally. Uncle Wooben.

That’s right.

Austin stared at him then pointed at Reuben’s hat, then his own, looking proud. My hat. I have my hat.

It’s a pretty cool hat, Reuben agreed.

But then Austin looked up at Leanne, no longer interested in his uncle. Firsty, Mommy.

We’ll get something in a minute, sweetheart. Leanne hesitated, then glanced over at Reuben, her eyes barely skimming over him. Would you like some tea?

He might not have time, his father said, as if Reuben was no more than a salesman whom George felt he had to be polite to.

Reuben pushed himself up, glancing from his father back to Leanne. He guessed her invitation was more a formality than anything. That his father could be so cool to him he fully understood. Nothing new there.

But Leanne? The woman he had, at one time, thought would be his?

No. I should get going, Reuben said, fighting down his own resentment and anger.

Good thing the opinion of other people had never mattered to him. Otherwise this could have been a genuinely painful moment.

Will you be coming by again? his father asked.

I’ll have to see how things go was all he would say. No sense in pushing himself on either his father or his sister-in-law if he didn’t have to.

George turned to Leanne. I’m going back to the house.

Then without another word to Reuben, he walked away, shoulders bent, head down.

He looked much older than the last time Reuben had seen him, and in spite of his father’s lack of welcome and veiled animosity, Reuben felt the sting of remorse that he’d stayed away so long.

It wasn’t your fault.

Maybe not, but he should have been the bigger man. Should