Page 7 of A Tiny House Christmas

With tears in her eyes, Karlene rolled over, wondering if she was stupid to have run. She was hiding away, freezing her butt off like a big old chicken.

She shuddered, thinking how she hadn’t even provided Thomas with the dignity of an explanation before she’d run away.

She pulled the blankets up further, contemplating how she was going to forgive herself for this one.

Karlene rolled over and felt around in the nearby star bag, digging out Joey’s radio. She turned it on, its tiny green light casting a faint glow. She longed to press the Talk button, to hear a steady voice on the other end.

She wanted to talk to somebody who understood her, her dreams and fears, but most of all, wouldn’t be angry with her. The man who’d given her permission to run away. The man who must see the bigger picture she was failing to grasp right now. The man who knew that somehow it was all going to be okay.

She turned the radio off again, knowing Joey wasn’t the only one who used the open airways. People would be worried, angry and confused, and anything she said to Joey wouldn’t be private.

After little sleep, she re-saddled up Cavalcade and rode through the predawn light and over the frosted land, back down out of the hills. With the blanket from her bedroll wrapped around her shoulders like a shawl, she let the horse pick the best route, and soon Joey’s barn was a welcoming sight on the horizon.

As the horse picked his way through the yard, Joey emerged from the large red structure in a checkered shirt and jeans as though he’d been expecting her.

She felt like she was coming home.

Joey watched Karlene slide off his horse, his clothes curving around her body in a way that would distract any man. She led Cavalcade to the barn, and it took him a moment to catch up with the fact she’d returned from the cabin so early.

“You look cold,” he stated.

She nodded. There were circles under her eyes, and he was certain it was more than just smeared mascara—a sign that yesterday’s actions were weighing on her. He slowed his steps, hating that he was soon going to add to that weight.

“Get any sleep?”

She shrugged, her messy hair fluttering in the morning breeze.

Joey opened the barn door and wordlessly they went inside. He removed the saddle and placed the star bag in its spot, making a mental note to restock it, while Karlene brushed down Cavalcade. While he waited for her to be done, he did chores nearby, trying to get a read on how she was doing. He’d never seen her quite like this before, moving as though her body felt too heavy to bear.

Finally she turned, her dawdled and overly-perfected jobs completed.

“Hungry?” Joey asked.

“Yeah. A bit.”

He headed back to the house, knowing she’d follow.

As she fell into step beside him, he changed directions and purpose. “There’s the tiny house.”

“I know my way around your yard, Joey,” she said, her tone slightly unforgiving.

She’d always been able to read him well, and right now seemed to be sensing the bad news he had in store. Her shoulders were already pushing back, her face becoming a stony mask. This felt like those times when her brother Blake would make Joey pass on the message that Karlene wasn’t welcome to tag along with them.

He veered toward the tiny home, directly across the driveway from his sprawling ranch house. It mimicked the style with a sharp peak above the front living area, giving the space a vaulted feeling. They were both a yellowish-orange log color and had big windows.

However, where Joey’s home expanded out to the sides with five bedrooms, a massive kitchen and loft he’d made into his man cave, the tiny house went straight back. It was fifteen feet deep and thirteen feet wide, the entire living space compacted into three rooms. The living room and entry flowed into the galley kitchen, and at the rear was a bedroom and bathroom. One and done, as he liked to say.

“My hired hand moved out,” he said, opening the door. “Got a modeling job in Cali.”

“Did not.” Karlene scoffed.

“That’s the story he’s sticking with.” The ranch hand was decently handsome, but not what Joey figured a model should look like.

“He went to jail, didn’t he?” she joked, her tone flat.

Joey chuckled, low and deep. “Let me show you what’s what.”

She narrowed her eyes, arms crossed, but cautiously followed him inside. She’d been here when the tiny home had first arrived on the truck. They’d even raided the local second-hand stores together to get it outfitted for staff to stay in. It had been surprisingly fun, Karlene finding it all a grand challenge of balancing cowboy practicality, homey warmth and necessary minimalism.

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