Linda Warren - The Texan's Christmas

“Rosa does not do all the cooking at our house,” she told him. Rosa and Felix Delgado had raised Jessie since she was seven. They now lived next door in a house that Cadde had built for them. They were Jessie’s protectors. Her family. When Roscoe’s niece had been kidnapped and murdered, he made sure that no one could get to his daughter. Roscoe was more than paranoid about her safety. But that was all behind them and he knew how important it was for Jessie to have a life. A family. He should have kept his mouth shut.

“I’m sorry, Jessie. I’ve had a rough day.”

She walked over and kissed his cheek. “You’re forgiven.”

After Jessie left, Cadde sat on the sofa with Jacob resting against him, his legs locked around Cadde’s waist.

“Stop aggravating my wife.”

“I seem to be pissing off everyone today—without even trying.”

Cadde rubbed his son’s back, kissing his fat cheek.

As Kid watched his brother with his son, he felt a blow to his chest. This was what he wanted; a child rushing to the door in excitement to greet him, a woman who had eyes only for him. He wanted his own family.

“From the look on your face I’d say that you managed to piss off Lucky.”

It took a moment for him to focus. He shifted in his chair. “She’d rather tar and feather me and then set fire to me before leasing to Shilah.”

“I’ll talk to her.”

“No. I just need to regroup.”

He could feel Cadde’s eyes on him. “Maybe you need to start with an apology.”

“It’s been twenty years. What do I have to apologize for?” He stood in an angry movement. “We didn’t even know what love was.”

“Do you now?”

“Hell, no.”

“The Kid I know would have sweet-talked his way through this, but somehow Lucky is a stumbling block for you. Why?”

“I don’t know. All these memories seem to crowd in on me.”

“Guilt, maybe?”

Kid ignored that. “I just can’t figure out why she’s running her dad’s place.”

“Why does it matter?”

“I’m going down to Chance’s to talk to him.” He was going to kiss Jacob but saw he was asleep.

“Kid,” Cadde called as his brother walked away.

He glanced back.

“Let me or Chance handle this. We need the lease signed.”

“I said I’d do it and I will.”

In less than a minute Kid was in his truck and headed down the road to Chance’s. He had stayed in High Cotton longer than any of the brothers. He probably knew more about Lucky than anyone, and Kid planned to be prepared the next time he saw her. Today she’d knocked him for a loop. That wasn’t going to happen again.

Cadde had built a big two-story house to the right of their parents’ old house. To the left was Chance and Shay’s house, a sprawling one story with a barn and a corral. Because of Jessie’s animals Cadde also had a barn and pens. The Hardin boys had come home in a big way.

Pulling over to the side of the road, he gazed at the old home place for a moment. The decaying white frame house sat on Kid’s part of the land. Some day soon they’d have to do something about the house. For years they’d been putting it off. They might be grown men but they were afraid to open the door and face the demons of their youth. Or maybe it was the memories they didn’t want to face. Memories that were perfect in their minds, but maybe in reality they weren’t.

Whatever it was, Kid decided he had enough demons to face. One in particular was Lucinda Littlefield.

Kid saw Chance and Darcy at the roping pen so he drove there. Darcy was throwing a rope at a dummy calf while Chance leaned on the fence watching her and giving instructions. Tiny, Darcy’s Chihuahua, sat at Chance’s feet.

“Twirl it,” Chance shouted to his daughter. “Use your wrist.”

Eleven-year-old Darcy flung the rope toward the dummy and it missed by an inch. “Shoot.” She stomped her foot.

“Try again,” Chance said.

Kid joined his younger brother at the pipe fence. “Are we having a rodeo or something?”

“Nah. Just showing Darcy a little extra attention. Everyone makes a fuss over the baby and I don’t want her to feel left out.”

Darcy was adopted, but no one would ever guess that by the way Chance doted on her.

“Hey, Uncle Kid.” Darcy waved. “Watch me.”

“Hey, hotshot.” He waved back. Hotshot was Chance’s nickname for her. Now everyone called her that. It fit. The girl was spunky and didn’t have a shy bone in her body.

She swung the rope and it landed in a perfect loop over the dummy. “Daddy, Daddy, did you see?” Darcy jumped up and down.

“That’s my girl.”

Darcy ran and jumped on the fence. Chance lifted his daughter over the top.

“I’m good, huh, Daddy?” Darcy pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose.

“You’re the best.” Chance hugged her and kissed the top of her head.

“Here comes Mommy.” Darcy drew away and dashed to meet Shay who was walking across the lawn, holding baby Cody. Wearing denim shorts and a tank top, Shay looked beautiful, as always.

“He was asleep earlier,” Shay said, handing the baby dressed in a blue outfit and cap to him. “Now he wants to see his uncle Kid.”

Kid stared down at the three-month-old baby. Cody moved his head around, his greenish-brown eyes wide-open as he flailed his hands and legs.

“I just nursed him and he wants more.”

Chance kissed his son’s forehead. “Enough, buddy.”

“Can I hold him, Mommy?” Darcy wanted to know.

“When we get back to the house.”

“Does anyone notice how much Cody looks like Jacob?” he asked, studying the chubby cheeks and cap of brown hair.

“Yeah,” Chance replied, “except Jacob has Jessie’s black eyes. Cody’s will probably be brown like mine.”

Kid cradled the baby in the crook of his arm and there it was again. That feeling. Suddenly he could put a name to it. Loneliness. His brothers, his running partners, were married and settled with families. He was the odd one out—alone and unattached. Holding their children filled that loneliness inside him. But it wasn’t enough. The thought startled him.

“Shay.”

Shay’s cousin, Nettie, strolled toward them. The woman wore a long full skirt and a gypsy blouse with her long gray hair flowing down her back. A purple scarf was tied around her head. Beads of every color were around her neck and on her wrists. She professed to be a gypsy-witch and took some getting used to. But she and Kid were now friends.

From the start, Shay had wanted Nettie to move in with them because Nettie had raised her and Shay didn’t want her to be alone. Nettie, not wanting to horn in on newlyweds, refused. She liked her independence. When Shay became pregnant, Nettie changed her mind. She moved in about four months ago and took care of Cody while Shay taught school.

“It’s too hot out here for the baby,” Nettie said.

“The sun’s going down and it’s only for a few minutes,” Shay told her, glancing at her son. “He’s asleep so you can put him down. How’s that?”

“I know I’m a little overprotective.” Nettie’s beads jangled as she talked.

“A little?” Chance laughed.

Kid handed off the precious bundle to Nettie, who immediately pulled the cap over Cody’s forehead.

“Hey, Nettie, how about telling my future?” Nettie read palms and Kid thought he could use some help.

“It’s right in front of your face.”

“What? You haven’t even looked at my palm.”

“I don’t need to. Your life line is long and leads to home, but it will not be a pleasant journey.”

Kid frowned. “Are you yanking my chain?”

Nettie smiled and walked toward the house with Cody.