Ann Roth - A Rancher's Christmas

There weren’t many people he counted as friends, and losing Lucky hurt. He would sorely miss the old man who had taken him in and mentored him in ways his own father never had.

He and Redd entered the baggage claim area, which was noisy and full of passengers awaiting their luggage.

After a moment, Redd pointed to a woman across the way. “There she is.”

In high-heeled suede boots and a stylish camel hair coat over pants, she looked pretty much as Zach had pictured her, though taller. Her light brown hair was parted on the side and hung almost to her shoulders in a straight, sophisticated style. With big eyes, full lips and an air of self-confidence, she was knockout beautiful. Lucky had neglected to mention that.

“Uncle Redd,” she said, hugging Redd tight. Her eyes flooded before she squeezed them shut.

Feeling like a voyeur, Zach stood back and averted his gaze, giving them privacy.

Finally, Redd let go of her and wiped his eyes. “Gina, this is Zach Horton—he’s the foreman at the Lucky A.”

She raised her watery gaze to Zach. Makeup had smeared under her grief-stricken eyes. For some reason, that made his chest hurt.

He whipped off his hat and extended his arm. “Pleased to meet you.”

She had delicate fingers and a firm grip, her skin soft against his callused palm. “I’m sorry about Lucky,” Zach said, sounding gruff to his own ears. He cleared his throat. “He talked about you quite a bit.”

“He told me about you, too. I remember how happy he was when he hired you several years ago. He was always talking about how much he liked and respected you. I loved him so much.” Her eyes filled.

As the tears spilled over, Zach’s throat tightened, pressure building behind his own eyes. He turned away and nodded at the conveyor belt. “Here come the bags. Which one is yours?”

“I checked three—two big and one smaller. They’re red with cream trim.”

She was staying what? Ten days? This wasn’t a vacation, and little Saddlers Prairie had only one real restaurant. What did she need all that stuff for? Zach didn’t miss the laptop peeking out from her huge shoulder bag. She must be planning to work from the ranch. He’d expected that.

Gina pulled the smaller of the three bags from the conveyor belt and Zach grabbed the remaining two. Redd reached out to take one, but Zach shook his head. “Leave those to me.”

“I’ll take the other one, then.” Redd pulled the smaller bag from Gina’s grasp.

“Thank you both.” She hooked her free arm through Redd’s. They bowed their heads and made their way toward the exit.

* * *

SHIVERING, GINA TUCKED her cashmere scarf into her coat collar as she, Uncle Redd and Zach made their way toward her uncle’s old station wagon. The icy Montana wind was every bit as biting as she remembered—not much different from Chicago in late November.

Snow flurries danced in the glow of the parking lot’s perimeter lights. A few flakes could easily turn into a deluge, and she hoped they made it to the ranch while the roads were still passable.

“You sit in the front with Zach,” Uncle Redd said, the breath puffing from his lips like smoke while Zach loaded the luggage into the cargo area.

Tired from lack of sleep and the long travel day, and feeling emotionally raw, Gina preferred to sit in the back and just be. “You take the front, Uncle Redd,” she said. “I’m fine sitting in the back.”

“That’s where the dogs ride. You don’t want to get dog hair on those pretty clothes.”

He had a point.

Zach slammed the cargo door closed and headed toward the passenger side of the car. “Hop in,” he said, opening the door for her.

He was big and muscular and movie-star good-looking, with a strong chin and wide forehead, and he was tall enough that even in boots with three-inch heels, she had to tip her head up to meet his gaze. She’d noticed his striking silvery-blue eyes halfway across the crowded baggage-claim area.

Despite her grief, and despite the fact that she was usually attracted to corporate-executive types, she was hyperaware of him.

What drew her most was the sorrow evident in his face. No one had expected her still-spry Uncle Lucky to die at seventy-four. His loss would no doubt be keenly felt by Zach and everyone in town.

She slid onto the bench-style front seat—Uncle Redd’s car was that old. In an attempt to get warm, she hunched down and hugged herself.

Zach got into the driver’s side with a fluid grace she hadn’t expected of a man his size, shut his door and started the car. “Once the engine warms up, I’ll turn the heat up high,” he said.

As he rolled toward the exit, she glanced in the rearview mirror at her uncle. “I’ve missed Sugar and Bit. Are they still inseparable?”

“Pretty much. You’ll see them at the house. If you want, you can keep them with you tonight for company. Wish I had the room at my place, but I don’t.”

The thought of staying alone at Uncle Lucky’s didn’t bother Gina. “Thanks, but your dogs won’t even remember me. I’ll be okay by myself.”

“Probably better off without them.” Uncle Redd chuckled. “Bit still thinks he’s human, and that always gets Sugar’s goat. They’re like an old married couple.”

“Sort of like Gloria and Sophie?” Gina teased. Her elderly cousins, widowed sisters, lived together and bickered constantly.

“Exactly, and almost as old in dog years. Bit’s almost ten and Sugar just turned nine.” Redd sighed. “We’re all gettin’ up there—present company excluded.”

“Don’t forget, I recently turned thirty,” Gina said. “That’s not so young.”

Zach made a sound that could’ve been a laugh. “You’re just a kid.”

She scoffed. “You can’t be much older than me.”

“Four years. That may not seem like a big difference, but trust me, I’ve been around the block a lot more than you have.”

“I’m not exactly naive,” she argued.

“From where I sit, you’re both still babies,” Uncle Redd quipped from the back.

Gina shared a look with Zach, both of them acknowledging that today, they felt old and weary.

At last Zach cranked up the heat, and a welcome blast of warm air hit Gina. The highway was dark and deserted, with only the car headlights lighting the way. No one spoke. The combination of warm air, darkness, silence and exhaustion was impossible to resist. Gina’s eyes drifted shut. She was almost asleep when Uncle Redd broke the silence.

“Gina grew up here.”

Zach glanced at her, his face shadowed in the dash lights. “Lucky said that after you graduated from high school, you left town.”

She remembered that day well. Her parents had both been alive then, and excited about her future, yet sad to see her go. She’d been the opposite—desperate to leave Saddlers Prairie, get her education and start fresh in a big city. All her life, her parents had fought about money and struggled to make ends meet. From the time she was in grade school, Gina had vowed to leave town someday and find a high-paying job. She had no interest in ever coming back, except for occasional visits.

“She’s the first one in our family to graduate college, let alone earn a master’s degree,” Uncle Redd said with pride. “She’s a smart one and pretty, too.”

“Uncle Redd!” Gina said, embarrassed.

“Well, you are.”

She snuck a glance at Zach. His gaze never left the road, but his lips twitched, and she thought he might even crack a smile.

“Since the day she left she hasn’t been back to visit but three times,” Uncle Redd went on. “Once over Christmas break that first year in college and again when her dad—my oldest brother, Beau—passed that summer. After that, we didn’t see her for another four years, when her mama took sick with pneumonia. Marie was forty-two when she had Gina. She and Beau had been married almost twenty years and didn’t think they’d ever have kids. When Gina came along, they were over the moon. We all were. Of the three of us brothers, Beau was the only one to have a child.”