6

Back at the ranch, Bragg finished his afternoon chores, bummed about Tiffany. He had romantic feelings for her, no doubt, but more than that, he worried about her. She had it all wrong, didn’t she? She’d begged her family for forgiveness and gotten none, but maybe she should start by forgiving them.

Ah, what did he know? He wasn’t much of an example himself. There was, and always would be, Tony. All he could do to ease his conscience was recall Ma, all indignant whenever Doc Berkeland told her to lose ten pounds when he needed to shed fifteen himself. Doc was weak, but had to hand out good advice.

Seemed Bragg was the same.

The painful memory of Tiffany driving off with Tony, without him, still tweaked. But heading home to the house party of stranded kindergarteners and three chaperones had helped him keep his mind off her. A little bit, at least. Ma had needed his help gussying up the place, washing the last dish, and sending the last load of munchkins back to town once the plow came through.

Finally off her feet, Ma was napping, and Rachel was safely on her way home. All in all, everything was pretty all right in Bragg’s little corner of the world. And of course, that kiss had been something.

An afternoon of thirty-nine degrees had melted some of the white stuff, enough for Bragg to release his tension on a ride. Like his brothers, nothing calmed him down like being on horseback. A quick recreational gallop on Winchester down the main road was just the thing.

Scott had already checked the cattle on the range via ATV. Cold wind dashed across Bragg’s face, his neck bundled in a muffler that brought to mind the fuzzy pink thing Tiffany had wrapped around hers. Wow, how did she manage to sneak up on him? His heart hammered. And he could still feel Matty against his chest bundled in that sling. He’d never really thought about a baby in his life, but all in all, it had been pretty cool.

And kids at Christmas? What could be better than that?

Surrounding Hearts Crossing, the snow-dashed hills, rolling ranchland, and white mountains put him in holiday mood. But thoughts of Tiffany doused him somewhat. Here she was with no place to go, on the outs with her family, and believing deep down there was no hope. Well, Christmas was hope. Getting her out to Hearts Crossing and the noisy bunch he was related to just might help. Although, he grumbled as his mustang steadily clomped through a rocky icy patch, she sure hadn’t seemed eager to come all the way home with him this afternoon.

How had the lunch date with Tony gone? Dark thoughts blurred with the bright rays of the setting sun. Was she extending it to dinnertime as well? Aaargh, Tony! The name, the man, still galled. He pondered what all he needed to do to get things better, get Tony off his chest, out of his mind.

At least he hadn’t been right about more snow on the way. Sun all but shouted from a bright blue sky after dispersing morning clouds. Scott would razz him good. Most times they could smell the weather, but other times, nature threw big surprises back at them. It wasn’t unheard of for a warm spring morning to turn to snow by two p.m. Or the occasional January day to pretend it was April.

As he cantered back to the ranch, the fresh air filling his lungs should’ve calmed him down. He wondered if Tiffany having a date with any man would have riled him as much. Because she had refused him, would any guy’s advances annoy him? Or was it the Tony factor?

Something deep down told him he’d have been just as irritated had she driven off with any man.

Joy blasted through him as Rachel’s big black SUV turned off the main road. Even though he’d trusted God that his sister was safe in His hands, last night had been tinged with worry. It sure was good to know she’d made it back safe and sound, and he breathed a prayer of thanksgiving. Mallie and Hooper’s car parked at the house let him know they’d arrived, too. And Kelley, in Sunset Hills, had finally been able to connect by phone.

Rachel blew a kiss as she turned into the Hearts Crossing drive, and his heart nearly exploded. Not just because he ached to hold Matty again, but also because Tiffany waved to him from the shotgun seat. He warmed all over at sight of her. It wouldn’t take long at all for Hearts Crossing to work its magic on her. Faith and love, that’s what the brand meant. That’s what Ma and Pa had been all about.

By the time Winchester got him back to the barn, Rachel had parked and had Matty in her arms. Tiffany juggled an armload of her own. Likely not baby gear. Ma took her grandma gig seriously and had her own stash going. As Tiffany waved, he noticed her cheeks had gone pink, but maybe it was just the cold.

By the time he unsaddled and curried Winchester, and got the gelding comfy in his stall, Kenn and Christy had arrived. Everyone, including Tiffany, crowded around the enormous Christmas tree inside. The fire blazed, and contentment surged through Bragg’s veins. With folks balancing eggnogs or mugs of hot chocolate, he made his way to Tiffany’s side. Ma beamed, and he sensed her matchmaking skills were revving up. Everybody laughed when baby Matty grabbed a tight handful of Chelsea’s flowing red curls.

“How did lunch go?” Bragg asked it without one trace of snide.

“Good.” Tiffany smiled, as if to relieve him. “The Butterbean does it right.” Her lips pursed so adorably he restrained a quick kiss. Too many folks around and she might slap him, anyway.

He ached to ask more about Tony, and she must have sensed it. “Your mom wanted everybody to come for supper, and she invited me, too. Want to show me around?”

“Sure. No dinner date, then.” He felt something like relief brush his face.

“No, but Tony did ask me to church tomorrow.”

“Church? Tony?” Disappointment clogged him. He’d wanted her to go with him.

“And brunch.” Tiffany mumbled, then looked into her steaming cup. “He’s trying to find his way. I am, too. And I like Pastor Hale. Can’t hurt.”

Of course it couldn’t hurt, and she needed to find the true God. And since His truth was true, Tony did, too. Bragg wanted to be the Lord’s beacon and be the one to take her there, to watch her face light up at the sparkly Christmas trees and the snowcapped mountains rising beyond that giant picture window. All of it showed God taking the form of a little human who’d faced lots of clashes living like one of them.

His heart panged. Of course, anybody finding the Lord was a matter for rejoicing. It was just…hadn’t he sort of asked her first?

“Anyway, wanna show me Hearts Crossing?” she asked again. Her mouth, bright and enthusiastic, smiled at him like a kid’s.

He grinned back. He could drown in those eyes.

“Come on.” In the entryway, they wrapped up warm, Bragg reminding himself this was ‘just friends’ as he dumped his hat on his head. Cold air slapped at them, but they stopped on the big front porch so Tiffany could take it all in. Come summertime, tourists and visitors made good use of the log furniture now wearing leftover clumps of snow.

“All those hills and mountains are like big shoulders holding you close,” she mumbled, in a poetic schoolteacher way Kenn would have admired. “I can see why you all love it so much.”

“Well, it’s more than just landscape. It’s a home and family, too.” Love for his kin swam through his veins, but then he halted in apology. Here was a woman abandoned and alone, troubled by her loss and not knowing where to turn. Of course, Bragg knew she should turn to God, but that was something she had to realize on her own. As for him, he needed to be more sensitive, so he rushed on, pointing past the big house to the west. “That little log house is where Hoop lives with Ella. And there” –he pointed over a rise studded with the brown skeletons of aspen and the green branches of fir—“that’s where Pike brought in a modular home for Daisy. Easier than starting from scratch.”

“So you’re all pretty close. Must be nice.”

Her voice turned wistful but for once, he didn’t hear pain. Maybe she was realizing the magic; that happiness could happen when folks worked at it.

Or…he felt himself blush from head to toe. When they found The One. His brothers had all recently fallen for their womenfolk quick, too quick some might say, but Bragg himself believed in love at first sight. Or, soon thereafter. He couldn’t say Tiffany was anything permanent, but he wanted to be with her, didn’t want anybody else to be, and had to convince her to at least give him a shot.

As for Tony…

Well, he’d save that thought for another day. “Do you ride?” He asked as she took in the sights around them, mouth open in something like wonder.

“Ah, what a view.” Then she chuckled. “No riding. I grew up in the Denver suburbs. Mountains were close enough to get to ski a few times a week, but no horses on our cul-de-sac.”

“Well, I could teach you.” He wanted to. Not just to get close physically and spend time emotionally, but to help impart some of the peace he felt when he cantered or trotted through God’s creation.

She peeked up at him and his heart skipped a beat. “You sure? In the snow and everything?”

“Of course.” He chuckled back. “Let me show you.”

Holding out his hand, he thrilled when she placed hers in it. The spark jolted through his bones to the toes inside his boots. Looking down, he saw she wore decent boots, and they didn’t look brand new. They strode tandem through spatters of snow to the barn.

“Like your boots,” he said casually. A girl in boots was one of his favorite sights. “You look like a downright cowgirl.”

“Ah, these? Well, I am a Colorado girl. But I confess. I got ’em for a Brooks and Dunn concert.”

“Well, you did good.”

The fragrances inside the barn always filled his nose in a most delightful way. Hay and oats, animals, and leather. During the summer, with the horses happy in the corrals or busy with wagon trains, Ma gussied up the barn and held hoedowns inside for their city-slicker visitors and anybody else who wanted to come on over. But in winter, the structure was solely a work area and stable.

Tiffany poked her head over the stalls, reading every horse’s name. Whenever he had time, Kenn burned the names in scraps of wood. Outlaw. Alamo. Joe Montana. Crazy Horse. Sugarfoot. Winchester.

“Peach Cobbler?’” She burst out with a laugh at the pretty Carmelo.

“Ma’s.”

“Ah, it fits somehow. Right as I walked in the front door, your mom handed me a plate of apple-cranberry pie.”

“You can call the horse Peachy. She’s a real gentle one. Ma wouldn’t have it otherwise.” He chatted to the horse as he led her out of the stall, held up a foot, and explained.

“See the studs? Horses have to wear their winter shoes. Slippery surfaces are very dangerous. Daisy’s dad is the farrier here and for lots of the ranches. He’s added screw-in studs for traction. They can be removed, kind of like chains on car tires.”

“Ah. I get it.”

“And Mr. Densmore—Joel—adds a pad of plastic so the horse doesn’t ‘snowball.’ This happens when mixtures of snow, mud, and even hay get trapped behind the shoe and stack up in the sole.” For a second, he crooned gently to the horse. “So it’s like the horse is trying to balance on balls of ice. This can harm their fetlocks and legs.”

“Very interesting.” She peered as he explained, then dazzled him again. “I’m a shoe girl myself.”

Bragg explained the saddling of the horse.

“But how am I going to get up? She might be a girl, but she’s pretty tall.”

“Got a mounting block outside for you greenhorns. Let’s get going while it’s still light enough.”

****

Left foot in the stirrup, she grabbed the horn tight and swung her right leg over the saddle with both nerves and enthusiasm.

“Good job! Sure you haven’t done this before?” Bragg grinned as he adjusted the stirrups and explained how to hold the reins. “The horn is for mounting and dismounting.” He gestured to her clenched fists.

“All right. But I think I’ll need to hang on for dear life,” she told him, meaning it, despite how gentle Peachy was as they clip-clopped through the snow on the plowed drive.

Even in the cold air, Tiffany felt warm with Bragg so close. His pine scent drifted up her nose.

“You’re doing great.” He watched her from beneath his Stetson, his half-lidded smile making her breath catch. At least she fit well in the saddle, and her backside wasn’t taking much of a pounding.

He pointed to some large white-roofed buildings well past the corrals and barn. “That’s where we store the covered wagons during the winter. That barn is for the draft horses. They pull the wagons all summer, then do sleigh rides all winter.”

“As in one-horse open?”

“Yep. They love to work. There’s a herd of elk that overwinters near here, have done so for years. We have a contract from the national forest for the rides, which includes making sure the animals have enough food.”

“It all sounds so perfect. I’m a suburb sort of girl. I feel kind of sheltered.”

“Well, you’re here now. I’ll make sure you get to see and do everything.”

Everything. Ah. She loved the idea, but there was so much in the way.

They turned on the main road to follow it for a while. Bragg had explained it as an easy ride for a first-timer.

“Do you mind me going out with Tony?” she asked suddenly, regretting the words almost instantly. What had gotten into her?

He started somewhat, and turned to her with eyebrows rising high into the brim of his hat. “Well, not my business, now, is it? You’re single and free. We’re just friends. Right?”

The tone of his last word, and the look in his eyes before he turned away, assured her he would like to be more. Her heart collided with about eight ribs. Was the Rachel-employer thing really much of an excuse? The family baggage? Was it possible she deserved somebody nice?

But, no. There was that God thing.

Normally she was good at explanations, could simplify terms and make logical sense, but lately she ended up bawling in Bragg’s arms like a high school prom queen who had lost her crown. Self-control had always been her name and her game.

“Yeah. We’re friends. Of course.” It hurt to agree, but she’d started it all, refusing his date last week. “It’s just…my baggage is so heavy, Bragg. And Tony, well, we seem a good fit. He’s a mess, too.”

Bragg shook his head. “You should be with someone who lifts you up.”

He meant himself. She wasn’t fool enough to think otherwise. But she knew he would talk about God again. As he reined up a little rise, she followed.

“Lean forward in the saddle,” he ordered, and she did so, recalling his instructions of leaning forward when going up, leaning back when going down.

When they got back to the flat path, she figured he needed to know for sure. “Bragg, your way, your family’s way, just isn’t my way. God is too important to you for the likes of me.”

“What?” He pulled up and looked down, eyes soft, but mouth stern, and her heart did crazy things. “God’s for everybody. ’Specially when you’re down. You reach for His hand, lean against Him when you stumble.”

“Maybe that works for you. But He’s never been there for me.” The sadness lay heavy on the cold air.

“Tiffany, He sent His own Son to become one of us. Jesus understands. He’s here. Right now.” Bragg waved a hand to indicate the magnificent terrain around them, then placed that hand on his chest. “And here. And everywhere.”

Then he pulled off his glove, and his beautiful hand reached out to touch her cheek. “Did you ever ask Him for help?”

She laid her mittened fingers over his, wishing it was flesh to flesh. “You just said it. Isn’t He all around?”

“Well, yeah. But you gotta ask. And another thing…” His voice fumbled off on the breeze and he looked away.

Suddenly she got it. As confident as he was in his beliefs, Bragg was finding it hard to preach to her. Well, make that share with her. Preach sounded so judgmental, like a lecture, and that wasn’t at all what was going on. He was trying to show her a glimpse of his heart. She decided to help him along. “What’s that?”

“You say you’ve begged your family to forgive you.”

Pain smacked her between the eyes, clamped so hard around her heart she couldn’t breathe. If he hadn’t been in the way on a stretch narrowed by snowdrifts, and if she hadn’t been sitting on a horse for the first time in her life, she would have trotted away. Why did he have to toss this at her? Didn’t she deserve one day without the agony of the past assailing her?

His warm hand touched her again, and her pique almost evaporated. She almost ached for more. His fingers lay gentle, the calluses soft against the skin underneath the scarf at her neck, but she couldn’t, wouldn’t, give in to his touch .He’d removed his glove and somehow the gesture begged for her to trust him.

“Ask them to forgive me? Yes, I have.” She told him true, not mincing a thing. “A bunch of times. And nada. Nada, nada, nada!” Bitterness swamped her and she slumped in the saddle, aching for Bragg, for something to uplift her.

Bragg’s fingers stroked her beneath the fuzzy wool, then cupped her jaw, holding her face steady so she couldn’t look away. “Well, have you ever forgiven them?”

Her neck stiffened with shock, but he held firm. Underneath her, Peachy shifted, restless, apparently eager to continue her walk. Frosty air whiffed around them as the late afternoon wind kicked up, but the warmth of Bragg’s gaze and fingers sufficed.

“Forgive them? For what?” She managed before she drowned completely in his champagne eyes.

“For abandoning you. For blaming you. For casting you out.” His voice softened to a whisper over the wind. “They wronged you, too.”

No. In her hurt and loneliness, in her retreat, doing so had never occurred to her. Her mouth opened and cold air rushed in. All she’d done was cry and run away.

Just then, a whirring on the wind immediately drew their attention. From the nearest hills, a black speck quickly morphed into a helicopter, sparing her an answer. For now.

While she knew Bragg wouldn’t let the subject drop, her heart lightened. He’d certainly brought a new kind of peace upon her.

He drew close, over both their horses, and pulled her opened mouth against his for a quick but staggering kiss. The taste of winter melted to summer, and her heart thrummed. As he pulled back without a word and headed home to Hearts Crossing, she reckoned if he ever pulled her close for a real man-woman kiss, not one based on her wreck of a life, she might just collapse.

The helicopter landed in a flat area past the barn. Bragg turned in his saddle, his face lit with joy. “It’s Kelley! Praise God. It’s Kelley!”

Kelley, the sister who had restaurant in Sunset Hills. Tiffany had met her briefly at Pike and Daisy’s wedding, but Rachel had mentioned her younger sister wouldn’t be arriving until Christmas Eve.

Tiffany could anticipate the shrieks of joy inside the house.

From the big front porch, Mrs. Martin’s substantial arms would wave in joy.

As Tiffany guided Peachy into the corral, she watched Bragg jump off Winchester to run to Kelley’s side. They hugged like there was no tomorrow, and Tiffany held off hot tears as the breach with Paul broke her heart one more time. He’d held her just that way on his wedding day, and when she’d graduated from college. The day Connor was born.

The pilot, vaguely familiar, got out and lifted a suitcase in each arm.

As if remembering the greenhorn still stuck on Peach Cobbler, Bragg loped back to Tiffany, his face red. “Sorry, sweetie. Now stand up in the left stirrup, hang on the horn, swing your right leg over until you hit the ground. Then bring your left leg down.”

Once she was safely on terra firma, Bragg yelled “good job” and the helicopter’s new arrivals reached them.

He took the reins of both horses. “Kelley, you remember Tiffany Vickers, Rachel’s nanny-paralegal?”

Kelley bounced forward and hugged Tiffany like she was a sister. “Of course. Rachel talks about you all the time. All good. You know that means you’re one of us now.”

Tiffany was no such thing, but she couldn’t help a smile as she hugged back, shoving Paul far back into the emptiness.

Kelley addressed everybody. “We’re snowbound in Sunset Hills. I haven’t had a customer for two days.” Her voice darkened. “Well, make that three days. Tofu molded into a turkey shape, and honey-baked veggie bacon doesn’t quite cut it for holiday fare in ranch country. So I sent the fresh stuff home with my wait staff for their Christmas dinners and closed shop.”

When Bragg tensed, Tiffany suspected there was more to this story than Kelley was revealing, but he had the good manners not to pursue. Instead, he gestured to the tall man next to his sister. The guy wore a fleecy jacket with a buffalo plaid scarf, but a regular New York Yankees hat sat atop his head, and Tiffany recognized, but couldn’t place him. Maybe he was a client of Rachel’s.

“So I hitched a ride with Doyle here.” Kelley affectionately squeezed the man’s arm.

Bragg continued the introductions. “Tiffany Vickers, meet Doyle Calhoun, better known as The Last Real Rancher.”

Of course! The reality show Paul had loved beyond any football game. The cable channel Nature Time featured a regular ranching family’s every-day activities on an hour-long show Thursday nights. Doyle, in his mid-sixties, rode herd on his fifty-thousand acres via ’copter, as well as ATV and horseback. He was one of only a handful of ranchers certified to perform Caesarean births on struggling heifers when a veterinarian such as Pike Martin was unavailable.

“Oh, my goodness me. My brother’s a slave to your show!” She couldn’t hold back her exuberance as she recalled Paul’s happy face, but pain soon roiled through her.

“Y’all cowpokes, then?” Doyle Calhoun winked at her.

“Aw, no. Paul works for a small PR firm in Denver.”

“Hmmm. PR now.” He sort of tasted the words. “The producers are always hounding me to get a publicist. Website. Blog. T-shirts. Nonsense like that.”

Tiffany recalled her manners and held out her hand, and Doyle Calhoun encased it heartily in his own.

“How do you do, Mr. Calhoun.” Tiffany found herself more star-struck at meeting this regular guy-famous person than any favorite country music star.

“I’m Doyle, pretty lady. And I couldn’t bear this other pretty lady getting stuck in them thar hills when she has to get Christmas dinner ready here at the ranch.” He squeezed her hand again and tossed Kelley an enormous grin. “I’m out and about getting my ma at the airport in Walden, so no big never mind. Right on my way. Let me get inside and say halloo to Kelley’s mama before I take off.”

“It’s not going to be that easy, you know that.” Bragg laughed. “She won’t let you escape without a four-course meal. If you’re in a hurry, don’t even…”

“Aw, it’s Christmas. I got time.”

“I’ll get the horses put away.” Bragg gave Tiffany a smile that set her blood pounding as he headed to the corral, and she took off for the house, arms across her fluttering tummy.

Kelley and Doyle chatted happily at her side, and she was more than glad for their chatter, for her brain relived Bragg greeting his sister like there was no tomorrow. But in the end, she couldn’t hold back either the memory or the tears as she strode up the porch steps.

There was no tomorrow for her and Paul. And there could be no Christmas with Bragg here at Hearts Crossing. Her heart slid to her toes. She still had a Sunday date with Tony to get through. Not just an hour’s worth of worship, but a whole Sunday brunch, too.