The Cowboy's Christmas Lullaby. Stella Bagwell
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“You ranchers are dealing with the raw elements.”
She felt a tug on her arm and glanced around to see Harry holding up the television remote. “The movie is over, Mom, and the stuff showing now is no good. Would you change the channel?”
“Excuse me,” she said to Denver, then turned her attention to finding some sort of program to hold the boys’ attention. After a moment, she parked the channel on a child-appropriate sitcom. “There. That’s the best I can do.”
“Aw, Mom, that’s goofy stuff for girls,” Peter complained.
“Yeah,” Harry seconded his brother. “We want to see cops and car chases.”
“Yeah,” Peter chimed in. “Or spaceships and laser fights.”
“Sorry, boys. Take it or leave it,” Marcella said firmly.
A pout came over Peter’s face and he looked to Denver for support. “I’ll bet when you were a kid you got to watch good stuff. Not boring stuff like giggling girls.”
Marcella watched Denver glance her way, before he turned his attention to Peter.
“Actually, I never watched much TV,” he said.
“You didn’t?” Harry asked, clearly mystified by the rancher’s statement. “What did you do? Play computer games?”
Denver chuckled and Marcella was struck by the sound. It was rich and warm and so pleasant she wished she could hear it again.
“No,” he answered Harry. “Back when I was your age, we didn’t have a computer at home. Or smartphones. Sometimes, when I went to town, I’d play video games with my friends.”
“You didn’t live in town?” Peter asked. “Where did you live? Here?”
He shook his head, and though Marcella knew she should scold the boys for asking personal questions, she was just as curious as they were about their unexpected rescuer.
“No. I lived on a ranch in Wyoming with my parents. I mostly stayed busy helping my dad with ranching chores. When I wasn’t doing that, I was riding horses or doing my homework.”
“Homework. Ugh!” Peter complained. “Nobody but bookworms likes that stuff.”
“Nobody wants to be dumb,” Denver reasoned. “And you need to do your homework to get smarter.”
“Me and Harry don’t have a dad,” Harry said with a shrug. “We just have Mom. She plays baseball with us. But she doesn’t know all that much about boy things. Like fishing. Do you know how to fish—for trout?”
“I’ve done a little fishing. Not much.”
Peter scooted to the edge of the couch. “I don’t want to learn how to fish. I want to learn how to ride a horse and run really fast! As fast as the wind!”
Harry looked at his brother and rolled his eyes as though he was eons older rather than a mere eight months. “You’re just saying that because of Mr. Yates. Yesterday you said you wanted to be a doctor.”
Peter’s head tilted from side to side in contemplation. “I still do. I wanta make people well, like Mom does. But I can do that and ride a horse, too. Can’t I, Denver?”
He exchanged a knowing glance with Marcella before he answered Peter’s question. “Sure. Doctors can ride horses, too. So can people who fish for trout.”
Harry thought about that for a moment, then said, “Yeah, I guess it would be fun to run fast. As long as I didn’t fall off.”
Marcella said, “You have to learn how to walk the horse before you run it. I’m sure Mr. Yates didn’t run the first pony he got on.”
Denver chuckled again and the sound came as a relief to Marcella. Maybe she and the boys weren’t getting on his nerves too badly. The idea had her studying him from beneath her lashes and wondering things she shouldn’t be wondering. Like why he wasn’t married. And why he had no children of his own. A man like him would have no trouble finding a woman who’d be more than willing to give him a family.
Maybe he’d already tried marriage and had gotten a divorce, Marcella silently contemplated. Or could be some woman had soured him on love and put him off the idea of marriage. Or perhaps he simply wanted to keep his freedom. Whatever the reason for his bachelorhood, Denver’s personal life was none of her business.
“I was a baby when my dad put me on a pony,” Denver spoke up. “So I don’t remember the occasion. But I can assure you there wasn’t any galloping done that day.”
“Orin told us ghost stories,” Harry said. “One was about Little Joe the wrangler who was trampled in a stampede. He said his ghost rides the hills and the desert flats. Have you ever seen him?”
“A few times,” Denver said, then tossed her a sly smile.
Marcella felt as enthralled by this man as her sons seemed to be, which should have made her feel foolish, but it didn’t. Tonight was a party night for fun, and it had been a long, long time since she’d spent a few enjoyable moments in a man’s company.
“Really?” she asked impishly.
“Cross my heart,” he said with feigned seriousness. “He wears a black-oiled duster and rides a white horse.”
Peter jumped to his feet with excitement. “That’s right! And the horse’s mane and tail looks like flames! When did you see him? At night?”
“Usually at night. But once, some of the ranch hands and I saw him in the late afternoon riding through a patch of Joshua trees. A big storm had blown up and turned the sky dark. Lightning was flashing everywhere and jumping like streaks of blue fire off the horns of the cattle. The herd stampeded and we raced our horses after them.”
“What happened?”
The question came from both boys, and as Marcella studied their mesmerized faces, she couldn’t help but dream and wish that she could give them the father they needed and deserved. Her mother was constantly harping for her to date, to make an effort to find a man willing to marry her and be a father to her sons. But Marcella didn’t want a marriage of convenience. She wanted love. For herself and her boys. They deserved nothing less.
Denver said, “The cattle were running straight toward a deep gorge and going so fast we couldn’t catch up. They were all going to fall over the cliff and die. Then suddenly out of nowhere Little Joe appeared from the black, boiling clouds. His white horse was so fast it was a blur in the wind and they turned the herd just in time.”
“Wow! That must’ve been cool!” Peter exclaimed.
“What happened then?” Harry asked. “Did you see Little Joe up close?”
Denver shook his head. “By the time we reached the gorge, he was gone. But we thought we heard the sound of his horse’s hooves echoing down in the canyon. It gave us all the shivers.”
“That’s awesome!” Harry spoke in a breathless rush, then turned an excited look on his mother. “Mom, did you hear that? Mr. Yates saw a ghost! A real ghost!”
“Well, I’m sure Mr. Yates has seen a lot of...strange things out on the range,” she reasoned.
“Tell us some more, Mr. Yates,” Harry pleaded. “Orin told us about a headless prospector and he walks around with a pickax. Have you seen him?”
“Boys, that’s enough for now. Mr. Yates has had a long day. And—”
Before she could finish, Denver’s cell phone rang. Marcella and the boys went quiet while he answered the call.
Once he tapped the face of his phone to end the conversation, he looked over at Marcella. “The mechanic is finished with your car. So if you and the boys are ready, I’ll drive you back to it.”
When the car had gone kaput, she’d been thinking