The Christmas Room Page 10

  Suddenly his front door flew open and slapped against something, emitting a resounding thump. Sam couldn’t see who had come inside until Kirstin stepped from the entry hall. He couldn’t resist saying, “Aw, Marcy must have taken a sudden turn for the better. Too bad. Now you’re all slicked up with nowhere to go.”

  Fists clenched at her sides, she marched across the spacious living room to stand in front of his chair. Black hair tousled from the wind, she looked angry enough to chew nails and spit out screws. Her eyes were the same color as a rifle barrel, much like his, but for a moment he could have sworn his Annie had returned from the grave. Kirstin had gotten her coloring from Sam, but in every other way she was her mama all over again.

  “You are an irascible, sharp-tongued, heartless, arrogant”—she broke off to drag in a deep breath—“impossible, cantankerous, bitter man and without any feeling!”

  “Excuse me for pointing it out, but you’re getting redundant.” Sam laid his open book facedown on the arm of his recliner and released the footrest so he could stand. “What the Sam Hill did I do to get you so riled?”

  Kirstin’s face turned so red he worried for a moment that she might physically attack him. “You went over to visit our new neighbors and upset Cam’s mother. You took shots at her!”

  “I wasn’t carrying a weapon.”

  “Your mouth qualifies! I don’t know for sure what you said to her, but it must have been awful.”

  “So that’s his name, Cam. Good to know. Next time I can add that to my long list of unflattering adjectives.”

  Kirstin jabbed a finger in the general direction of his nose. “There won’t be a next time! You have no right to interfere with my life!”

  Sam sank back down on his chair. “I admit I wasn’t at my best this afternoon, Kirstin, but if I hadn’t seen you swabbing that man’s tonsils with your tongue on the riverbank yesterday and if you hadn’t been going for walks so much before that, I might have been in a better humor.”

  “Like I’m responsible for your humor?” She bunched her muscles as if she might spring at him. Though she was a woman of diminutive stature, Sam didn’t discount her strength. While doing ranch work, she held her own against most men. “My tongue and where I decide to stick it are nobody’s business but mine. I’m sick-to-death tired of being monitored as if I’m sixteen. I’m twenty-six, soon to be twenty-seven. You act as if I’m still a baby. Well, news flash, Dad. My biological clock is ticking. I want to meet the right man, fall in love, and maybe have babies like nearly every other young woman on the planet!”

  Sam rose from the chair again and jabbed a finger at her impertinent little nose. “Not with that jackass next door, you won’t!”

  She grabbed his hand and shoved it away from her face. “You know nothing about him! And I’m finished with your nonsense. This is my life, and I’m going to live it my way. The way you treated his mother today is inexcusable. Despicable!”

  Sam knew he had no ground to stand on. He’d already reached that conclusion and felt rotten about the way he had behaved. “Kirstin, I’m sorry, really sorry.”

  “Not good enough!” she shouted. And then she started jabbing his chest with a skinny finger. For the first time, Sam realized that she had inherited his temper. “From now on, you are not allowed at the ranch manager’s house. I may be entertaining a gentleman friend there. If you crack open the door and stick your nose in my business, I’ll smack it!”

  “I will allow no such thing on Conacher land!” he yelled back. “A gentleman friend? Over my dead body! You’ll honor the rules when you’re living under my roof.”

  “I don’t live here.” She glared at him and squared her shoulders. “I work hard for my wages and my right to live in the ranch manager’s house! It may sit on your land, but technically the house belongs to me for as long as I work here. Out in my yard or within my own walls, I’ll do whatever I please. And if you so much as try to interfere, I’ll pack my bags and leave. Do you understand?”

  Sam’s heart squeezed. She was his little girl. He had walked the floors with her when she was a baby. He had rushed her to urgent care when she ran high fevers. Night after night, he’d read her bedtime stories until she drifted off to sleep. If she left the ranch, he’d be alone. He’d have no one who gave a shit about him and no one to love.

  Before he could think of what he might say to mend fences with her, she retreated a step and cast a scathing look at the paperback he’d accidentally knocked off onto the floor. Then a nasty little smirk peeled her lips back from her teeth. She left the house in much the same manner as she had entered, slamming the door so hard that the walls shook.

  Sam sat down and stared stupidly at the floor. He was losing his daughter. The handwriting was on the wall. And whose fault was that? That horny bastard next door was responsible. Feeling older than he was, Sam turned off the lights and went to his upstairs bedroom. For years, he and Annie had used this suite. He’d been unable to sleep up here after her death, but he’d stuck it out until rest no longer evaded him. Another win for Sam Conacher, he thought. But in all honesty, he could admit, if only to himself, that he’d used alcohol as a sedative in order to pass out.

  Before he stripped down to his briefs and undershirt, he couldn’t resist stepping to the window and carefully parting the curtains to see if a second vehicle was parked in front of Kirstin’s house. If that jackass showed up, Sam vowed that he’d kick his ass good and proper. He would allow no man to defile his beautiful daughter on Conacher land.

  After peeling off his clothes, Sam crawled into his bed. He punched his pillow. He lay on one side and then on the other. Every time he nearly dozed off, he thought he heard Annie’s voice. Sam, sweetheart, you have to let her go. Set her free.

  Sam, lying on his back, pulled up each end of his pillow to cover his ears. But he wasn’t hearing Annie with his damned ears. Her voice was inside his head.

  “Of course it’s all in my head,” he grumped. “I stood over her grave. Dead people can’t talk.”

  But as Sam finally drifted off to sleep, he knew in his heart of hearts that if anyone would come back to defend her child, it would be Annie.

  • • •

  The next afternoon Maddie went out to the cat building to clean litter boxes, top off the food dishes, and freshen the water bowl. It was only a temporary home for her kitties. The water that Cam hauled in had to be used judiciously, making it necessary that she wash the cat bedding only rarely, and then it was so thick with fur that it plugged up the washer. She swept their shed as often as she could, but the floor was a scant eight-by-eight, leaving precious little room for anything but beds, blankets, bowls, and litter boxes. Cam insisted that the building was well insulated and the felines would be just fine even in winter with an electric heater. Maddie knew it was true. Many cats slept in barns and lean-tos, enduring freezing temperatures and even hunting for their own food. By comparison, her felines were pampered. But this building wasn’t up to the standards of living to which her babies had become accustomed.

  As she emerged from the shelter, she was half startled out of her wits when she found Sam Conacher outside, once again staring down at her from the back of his horse. Her first thought was that the dogs had gone to the slough again. They loved playing down there in the water, and she didn’t mind that they went often. But while they romped, they weren’t on duty to warn her of interlopers.

  He inclined his head at the structure. “From a distance, I figured this to be your pump house, but it’s obviously not.”

  “It’s the cathouse.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “Hang a red light on it. Maybe you’ll get some business.”

  Maddie’s spine stiffened. “Why are you here, Mr. Conacher? If it’s to nettle me, I’m in no mood for it today.”

  He rubbed his jaw. Then he took off his hat, revealing a thick head of white hair. “I—um—came to apologiz
e for my behavior yesterday. I forgot my manners and was way out of line.”

  To her ears, his apology rang sincere even though she could tell that he’d struggled to push out the words. She said nothing. When a man came to eat crow, a smart woman made sure he swallowed it, feathers, bones, and all.

  “It had nothing to do with you,” he added. “My beef is with that jackass son of yours.”

  “Do you honestly think I’m willing to make peace with a man who’s still calling my son names? And on my turf? I think not, Mr. Conacher.” She lifted her chin. “Please, get off my land.”

  He looked at her as if he couldn’t quite believe what she’d said. “Are you kicking me off your property?”

  Maddie pointed toward his ranch. “That’s how white trash people deal with obnoxious, foulmouthed neighbors. Make tracks, Mr. Conacher. If you trespass again, I’ll call the cops.”

  “Let me remind you that this is a very small valley,” he said. “And your son is just starting out here.”

  The implication to Maddie was that Sam was saying he had the power to ruin Cam professionally. And she saw red. “Yes, it’s a small valley. But listen up, buster. You’d better think twice before you start slinging dirt, because I have a pretty strong throwing arm in this area myself. Your reputation will be just as tarnished as my son’s before I’m done with you.”

  Maddie wished she could stomp away, but she was still recovering from her fall in the gravel. No grand exit for her. The same wasn’t true for Sam. He nudged his gorgeous mount into a gallop. Maddie gazed after him, unable to decide which was more magnificent, the horse or the man. Then Sam suddenly wheeled the gelding around and rode back toward her.

  Sliding hooves sent up dust as he brought the animal to a halt. “Who the hell are you?”

  Maddie bit back a grin. “Nobody special, but if you mess with me or mine, you’ll come to know me as your worst nightmare.”

  • • •

  Sam rode home scratching his head. He knew a bluff when he saw one, and that feisty little woman wasn’t bluffing. She’d looked him dead in the eye without a single twitch of her facial muscles. Who the hell was she? She seemed to think she was somebody important—important enough to go toe-to-toe with him in a dirt-slinging contest. Sam no longer spoke with many people. Other ranchers who’d once been his friends had abandoned ship after Annie died. All but one of his hired hands had quit. So he didn’t hear all the latest scuttlebutt anymore. He hadn’t known the land next to his had sold until he noticed squatters on it. Even then he hadn’t cared enough to learn anything about them. His ranch proper rested clear at the end of Fox Hollow Road, a far piece from that hog-wallow camp. Sam had known he’d have to drive by their property regularly, but he’d had no intention of mingling with them or taking them a welcome cake. Hell, no. That had been Annie’s specialty.

  Curiosity nettled him, though. That woman had just thrown down a glove, daring him to mess with her. She had to be somebody. Otherwise she never would have issued that challenge. He needed to find out her name. Sam preferred to know everything possible about his enemies.

  • • •

  Cam was accustomed to texting a lot in his business, but he’d never texted as much as he was now with Kirstin. They didn’t dare meet by the river again, and they felt cut off from each other. Over the last twenty-four hours, they had messaged each other close to a hundred times. Fortunately, Cam had Bluetooth and voice recognition in his truck, enabling him to listen to her texts and reply by voice while he drove around the valley to check out expired ranch listings.

  Kirstin told him about her confrontation with her dad the previous night. She apologized profusely for Sam’s behavior. Cam wanted to remain angry. But the man felt responsible for his wife’s death, and in Cam’s opinion, that would mess with anybody’s head. The ornery old bastard needed counseling, but he’d probably never get it. He was too damned stubborn.

  When it came to his mom, Cam was extremely protective, though, and Kirstin’s father had made a bad mistake by upsetting her. Cam said nothing to Kirstin of his conflicted feelings toward her dad. It seemed better to keep their exchanges about him light.

  But that was nearly impossible with Kirstin. Their texts were personal, and through them, he learned more and more about her, just as she did about him. He wished that she could call him. He wanted to hear her voice. But she was working with her dad, and she didn’t want her conversations with Cam to be overheard.

  Was it possible to fall even more in love with a woman while texting? Cam’s first thought was no, but as the day progressed, his feelings for Kirstin deepened. She wrote to him about the dog she’d borrowed from her dad’s place. He was a red merle Australian shepherd, and her father, unimaginatively, had named him Red. Red slept with her at night. When she needed a confidant, he was always there to listen. And, working with her dad, she had plenty of reason to vent her feelings on a regular basis. Her old mare, Marigold, had stepped in a hole that morning and strained her hock. Kirstin had wrapped the leg and put the horse in a stall until morning. If she still limped tomorrow, the vet would be called.

  She seemed to adore every animal on the place. Cam admired her for that. And, as he already knew, she also loved nature. She wrote to him about what she saw and smelled: fluffy white clouds against an incredibly blue sky, craggy mountains tiered with variegated green, a yearling deer with gigantic eyes and a twitching nose, and the scent of freshly cut grass from the yard of a neighbor down the road. Cam, an incurable nature enthusiast, texted her back about sighting a bighorn sheep, getting caught in a traffic jam caused by cows instead of cars, and how crisp and clean the air smelled with his window down. He also asked why someone would mow a lawn so late in the season. She never replied. He suspected she got busy with work and couldn’t use her phone.

  Then she texted him again. My friend Marcy is very sick. I’ll be sitting with her all night, or at least I think I have my dad convinced of that. Going with you to Missoula calls to me. Can you possibly get away?

  Cam hated that Kirstin had been forced to pretend she was sitting with a sick friend in order to get away from her father. He seldom left his family overnight on the new land, but he had done it for business trips. Everything had gone well during his absences. Caleb had also had a day to get over his anger with Kirstin’s father. It was unlikely that the boy would confront the older man now.

  Sure, he texted back.

  He and Kirstin agreed to meet, hide her pickup somewhere, and go to the city, where she could blend in with a crowd. They planned to go out for dinner and then find a nightspot with a live band so they could dance. That was something they hadn’t done together yet. Maybe they’d even see a film before the evening was over. They both agreed that it was too soon for them to engage in physical intimacy. The situation with Kirstin’s father was still unresolved. Cam hoped to establish some measure of peace with the man before making love to his daughter. Cam also wanted to be absolutely sure of his feelings for Kirstin, and hers for him, before they took their relationship to that level.

  That night, Cam and Kirstin made their great escape. In Missoula they dined at a fabulous Thai restaurant. They both had so much to say that they talked around bites of food, listened intently to each other, and laughed at each other’s stories. Cam enjoyed how easy it was to converse with her. There was no tense period when they saw each other again. Somehow they just picked up where they’d left off. He’d never felt so comfortable with a woman he found to be attractive. She echoed the same sentiment.

  Conversationally they were all over the board, discussing their educations, their parents, childhood memories, and dreams for the future. Cam pictured himself becoming successful in real estate sales and raising cattle on a small scale. Kirstin wanted to take over the ranch for her dad, hire a large crew, and return the operation to its former glory. Their goals didn’t conflict, Cam realized. If they built a life together, they
could both be happy. He wondered if she was thinking the same thing.

  When they finished their meal, they visited a nightspot renowned for hosting great live bands. It was too noisy for them to talk, so they danced to every slow song. While Kirstin went to the ladies’ room, Cam approached the lead singer with a special request and offered a generous tip if the band could play it. When Kirstin returned, he led her straight to the dance floor.

  Kirstin grinned up at him as they moved in time with the music. One number ended, and after only a brief pause, the lead singer said, “This next song is by special request for a lady named Kirstin.”

  Kirstin went motionless in Cam’s arms as the man hummed the opening refrain of “The Way We Were.” Tears filled her eyes. Cam grinned, pulled her snugly against him, and murmured near her ear, “I hope we never look back with any regrets.”

  She pressed her face against his shirt, relaxed, and moved with him. At the end of the song, she again looked up. “No mistakes and no regrets. I hope we’re together until we’re old and gray, and that when we hear this song, we remember being young, happy, and madly in love.”

  After dancing almost nonstop for more than an hour, they adjourned to a quieter establishment to have a nightcap. The atmosphere there was cozy, with other couples all around them, yet their booth offered them privacy. After exhausting several topics of conversation, Kirstin asked for more details about Caleb’s mother.

  Cam smiled. “Becky was a sweet girl. We both thought we were in love, and in a juvenile way, I believe we were. Unfortunately, it’s hard on a teenage girl when she gets a baby bump that grows bigger and bigger. She no longer felt pretty and swore that I flirted with other girls. I had to work at night, and that made things worse. She thought I was stepping out on her.”