Page 13 of The Cowboy's Christmas
Life changing. In a good way.
Savannah smiled and leaned her head back against the sofa cushions. “So much fun. I’ve rediscovered a lot of stuff I’d forgotten.” Like Breyer horses. “Rand called last week, and Sara has been able to call more often, which really helps.”
“I’m glad she’s retiring, so this doesn’t happen again.”
“We’re all glad of that. The military was good for her, but now she needs mama time.”
A brief silence hung between them, then her dad said, “You’re getting hit with a lot here, Van. Areyoudoing okay?”
Savannah hated when her parents worried about her. It hadn’t been an issue until Matt’s death, which was when she discovered that she didn’t want them to hurt for her when she was hurting enough for all of them.
“I am.” She left it at that, being a big believer in less-is-more when it came to convincing people.
“Call us if you’re not.”
“I will.”
“I have your word?”
Her father knew her well.
“Yes.”
She and her dad talked for a few more minutes, then Savannah ended the call and, after checking to see that the girls were ready for bed before granting DVD privileges, she slipped out the side door and stood in the still coldness, surveying her ranch in the moonlight. She needed a moment to gather her thoughts, remind herself of how much she had, rather than how much she’d lost. Funny how conversations with her parents made her more vulnerable to those pesky, painful thoughts she worked so hard to keep at bay.
You’re good.
She was. Her uncle had had a close call, but he was safe. The girls brought laughter to the house and a new perspective on practically everything, and, well, shewasdoing okay, all things considered.
Wrapping her coat more tightly around herself, she walked to the front yard gate. Harold, her young dog, came out from his doghouse and ambled across the yard. Savannah leaned down to stroke his silky head.
The empty space where Deke’s truck belonged reminded her that if she didn’t get the flatbed back to the ranch, they wouldn’t have a backup rig, except for the old two-ton truck that wasn’t licensed. Deke might be able to drive the beast, but it was a workout, with no power steering or brakes. Maybe Quinn could drive out with Deke in the flatbed tomorrow?
Look at you. Already making plans.
Well, she kind of had to—for vehicles if nothing else.
Unlike most ranches in the vicinity, she didn’t have a lot of extra rigs hanging around the property. Ones that ran, anyway. As with any older outfit, there were a few relics scattered about, parked along fence lines with the aging farm equipment that honestly would never be used again. She and Matt had been too busy getting on their feet to do cleanup. That was something they’d decided would come later after the fences were rebuilt or extended and the barn put back into usable condition. The roof had set them back, but the old building had been saved.
So many plans, so many…
Only to be cut off at the knees with Matt’s death.
Savannah swallowed a sigh, then paused to look at the barn where her Christmas-loving husband had hung the giant wreath the first year they’d been there. It had been dislodged and destroyed by a gale force wind, and he’d laughed about it, saying that he was going to make the next one out of sheet metal. He was a Christmas guy. Loved decorating and presents and everything involved in the Marietta holiday events.
She pushed her hands deep into her pockets. The holiday season hurt. Not as bad as before, but it was hard to embrace the magic the way she once had.
Could she do it? Pull off a happy Christmas for the girls?
She’d give it her best shot, focusing on presents rather than the traditions that stirred up memories. Baby steps. An artificial tree decorated on Christmas Eve, some cocoa and cookies, presents under the tree. And the longer she could keep the girls from realizing that the Christmas season was upon them, the better. She hoped to be able to get close to the holiday itself before acknowledging and beginning preparations. If she made it to Christmas Eve, all the better. The ranch was isolated. If she monitored television, kept them focused on the old-fashioned DVD player and discs…it might work.
But beyond Christmas concerns, there was the matter of the day-to-day operation of the place. She needed a warm body—to keep Deke in the house if nothing else.
She pulled in a deep breath of crystalized air, then headed back inside to call Jim Neary. If all went well with the call, and she couldn’t dig up anything about the man on the internet, then she was about to hire Quinn Harding as her temporary right-hand man.
