The Cowboy's Christmas Bride. Patricia Johns
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shot back, “if you’d shown that you cared about this land at all.”
“And if I were punctual.” He gave her a look of mock seriousness. “So very punctual.”
He was making fun of her now and she shook her head. Andy had been late for that horse show, and she’d told him off for it when he finally did arrive. It was that joking attitude of his that rubbed her the wrong way—it always had. Always joking, never saying anything of any substance. In her own humble opinion, Andy’s father had made the right call in who got the ranch.
“You were late, and I came in first at that show,” she said. She’d enjoyed beating him.
“I was late and I still came in third,” he quipped. “Imagine what I could’ve done if I’d arrived on time.”
“Yes,” she retorted. “Imagine.”
The thing was Andy hadn’t lacked in skill or talent, just focus. At least that was the way she saw it. And he hadn’t focused because he hadn’t cared about ranching life. But Dakota did—she cared more than a guy like Andy could ever imagine, and while he was horsing around and flirting with girls, she’d been working hard. It wasn’t just a junior horse show, it was a matter of pride.
“I was joking.” He came to a stop in front of the house and shoved his hands into his pockets. He didn’t sober entirely, that smile still teasing at the corners of his mouth. “You’ll get used to it.”
From where they stood she could see the barn on one side and the drive leading toward the main road on the other. It wound through bushes of amber and nut brown, a few cattails growing in the ditch where water collected. The cluck of the chickens mingled with the faraway call of a lone V of geese that soared overhead. She could see the beauty here—the life, the rotation of the seasons, the work to be done and the harvest to be enjoyed. She could see things she was quite sure Andy didn’t. The land wasn’t a joke, it was a responsibility.
“I’m already used to it,” she retorted. “You’re acting like I don’t know you. If you want to know why people are so ticked with you, this is it. This is all a joke for you, just a way to pass the time. But for the rest of us, this is our life, something we care enough about to dedicate every waking hour. When you sold that land, you made a dent in this community and it’s affected us all—my family especially. You might be joking around, but the rest of us are dead serious, and we’re left paying for it.”
“And I doubt there’s any way you’ll forgive me, is there?” He’d sobered finally, the joking look evaporating from his face, leaving those chiseled Granger good looks to drill straight into her.
“Probably not.” Dakota sucked in a breath and nodded in the direction of the corral. “I still recommend Patty, for the record. Not that I expect it to matter to you.”
“Noted. And I should add that just because I joke around doesn’t mean I’m not dead serious about some things, this cattle drive included.”
“Good.” She swallowed, uncertain of what else to say. There was nothing left, really. She’d stated her position and he’d stated his. They weren’t friends. They weren’t anything, really, except two people forced to work together for a few days. What he thought of this land didn’t much matter. It didn’t belong to him.
“So I’ll see you Monday morning,” he said. “I want to start riding at sunup.”
“I’ll see you then,” she said and turned toward her truck.
“Dakota—” She turned back and he shrugged. “Thanks for meeting me halfway.”
Halfway at civil. It wasn’t much, but it seemed to mean something to him. Melancholy swam in those green eyes and then he gave her a nod of farewell and turned back toward the house. For all of his joking around, he was carrying a heavier load than she’d given him credit for. While she’d always hoped he’d live to regret what he’d done to this town by selling out, she’d never considered what it would mean to see that regret reflected in his face. Karma was best reported secondhand, not witnessed...something she’d already learned with Dwight.
A few years ago, right around Christmastime, she remembered putting up the family tree in the living room with her brother. She’d been dating Dwight at the time, and no one knew about his violent outburst yet, but apparently, his boozing had put up some warning flags. Brody had given her some sound advice. “Don’t get caught up with a guy who will ruin your future,” he’d told her seriously. “You already know what you want. Dwight doesn’t—and even if he did, he’d have to stop drinking if he wanted to achieve anything. So you’d better put together the life you want. No guy is going to give it to you, least of all Dwight. You need to dump his sorry butt before it’s too late.”
That advice still applied—both about steering clear of Dwight and any other guy who didn’t share her priorities. The wrong man could demolish everything she’d worked for.
Dakota put her truck into reverse and pulled a three-point turn before heading out the drive that lead to the main road. She steered around a pothole, the dried fingertips of bushes scratching across the side of her vehicle. Mission accomplished: she’d secured the job. When Chet had called several days ago asking her to lend a hand on their late cattle drive for a decent sum, she’d been relieved. They needed the extra money rather badly, especially with Christmas coming up. Sometimes blessings came in the form of hard work.
Andy had been a surprise, though.
She turned onto the main road and heaved a sigh. She’d been more nervous than she’d thought when she realized she’d be dealing with Andy and not his more likeable brother. But a job was a job, and with her mother’s medical bills for her emergency hysterectomy last year and the down payment they needed to put down for the new hydration system, she’d take a paycheck any way she could get it, and this drover position was paying relatively well. Chet was like that. He knew better than to offer the Masons charity, but he’d offer a job for fair pay. That was the sort of kindness Dakota could accept.
The road divided the land—one side an endless, rippling carpet of golden wheat, the other what used to be the Granger’s pasture, a mixture of maize yellow with olive green and sienna—the different grasses maturing together into a rich expanse, the beauty of which was marred by muddy roads. The growl of large machinery surfed the breeze, tractors creeping along the ground in the distance, and every time she looked at them, a new wave of anger swept over her. Lordship Land Developers had friends in powerful places to get the zoning for this eyesore, and all the petitions she’d filed had made no difference at all. Apparently money spoke louder than righteous indignation. And Dakota had plenty of righteous indignation.
This county—this road—was as much a part of her as her own blood, and seeing it torn apart hurt on a gut level. Andy had seemed properly surprised at the impact his choice had had on their ranch, but it didn’t change where the blame lay. He’d had one foot out of town for as long as she’d known him. Again, a lot like Nina Harpe—the woman engaged to her brother, Brody...whom her brother still believed he’d marry. Except, Nina had up and married Brody’s best friend while he was stationed overseas with the army. Nina was more than beautiful—she was voluptuous and sexy, a Marilyn Monroe singing Happy Birthday to the president. Apparently, one of her virtues wasn’t patience.
Dakota wasn’t given to petty grudges. She believed in second chances and people’s ability to grow, unless that person had singlehandedly impoverished her family’s land or broken her brother’s heart. Her benevolence had a limit. To be fair, Brody’s heart wasn’t broken yet...but that clock was ticking.
And yet, in one small corner of her own heart, she found herself pitying Andy. He deserved what he got—there was no ambivalence there—yet the softer side of her still hated to see someone suffer. Even Andy Granger.
A few miles farther led to her own drive and she slowed to