Holidays on the Ranch (Burnt Boot, Texas #1)(31)

Joe said, “Cat. Cat. Run, dog, run.”

“He doesn’t need a bit of coaxing to talk, does he?” Callie asked.

“Well, dammit, Mary! Joe wants apples!” He rattled on as he pranced back and forth.

“Hey, Joe, how you doin’, old man? I think they all missed me, Callie. Poor things had to stay home all day and wonder if I was comin’ back.” He kissed Shotgun right on the nose and got a big slurpy kiss up his cheek for his efforts. “I’ll change out the newspaper soon as I get something to eat. I’m starving.”

“So I don’t see black eyes or a bloody nose. You must’ve got along all right.” Finn patted Callie on the back as he talked.

“And I see your old work shoes on your feet,” Callie fussed.

“Ahh, Callie, I couldn’t wear them others to the first day of school. I like my teacher, but I don’t like all them girls except for Olivia. She’s okay because she’s real smart, and me and her tied for the math test today. We was the only ones who made a hundred.”

“Sounds to me like you had a pretty good day,” Finn said.

“I did, and tomorrow I get to ride the bus with Adam and Ricky and Olivia. They’re my new best friends. I’m going to put on my old jeans so me and Shotgun can go outside and play.” Martin ran off to his room to change.

“Shotgun! Hit the dirt, scumbag,” Joe yelled.





Chapter 9


Callie grabbed the blanket from her bed and trailed it behind her on the way to the porch. She wasn’t in Afghanistan. She was on a ranch in north Texas. But it wouldn’t be real until she was out of the house and could feel the cold against her skin, know that she was for sure on Finn’s ranch, and discern the difference between nightmare and reality.

She tiptoed past Joe. His head was tucked under his wing, and for once he didn’t start yelling or making gun noises. She’d gone for weeks without the dreams, and this was the second night of them in less than a week. Martin was doing well in school, making friends, and she and Finn settled into their routine. He was constantly hugging her or touching her hand or her shoulder, and there’d been a few more kisses, but mostly it was workouts in the morning, work on the ranch in the afternoon, entertain Martin in the evening. So why tonight?

A raccoon half the size of Shotgun ambled across the porch, down the steps, and out into the night. She checked for other wild varmints before she eased down in the corner, drew her knees up to her chest, and tucked the blanket in tightly around her body. Those were real snowflakes falling from the sky, and the landscape said she was in Texas. This was Salt Draw for sure, and the vivid pictures in her mind had been a nightmare.

A cow bawled in the distance, and a coyote howled up to the north of the ranch. No cows and coyotes where she’d been stationed. She’d just sit there a little while longer to let her heart settle, and then hopefully when she went back to bed, she’d sleep peacefully until morning.

***

Shotgun cold-nosed Finn right on the cheek and his eyes snapped open. Slowly, his eyes adjusted to the darkness, and he could see the hackles on Shotgun’s back standing straight up. A low growl came from Pistol over beside the fireplace, and Angel’s eyes were trained on the window. A slight bump against the outside wall brought Finn to a sitting position.

He tiptoed across the room, peeked through the blinds, and saw a big raccoon making his way down the steps. “Just a coon, boy, and, no, I will not let you out to chase him.”

Then he saw Callie slide down into the corner and roll up in a ball. He jammed his legs into a pair of flannel lounging pants, his bare feet down into cold boots, and his arms into the work jacket hanging on the bedpost. When he reached Callie, he sat down, pulled her into his lap, and wrapped his arms tightly around her.

Heart pounded against heart. Snow whirled around in a kaleidoscope of patterns under the dim moonlight. Words weren’t necessary. Finn knew exactly why Callie was on the porch at three o’clock in the morning.

Shotgun made two passes through the yard, nose to the ground, before he gave up and came back to rest his head in Callie’s lap. She pulled one hand free of the blanket and scratched his ears.

“Must’ve been a bad one,” Finn finally said.

She nodded.

“Want to talk about it? Therapist says that talking helps. I’m a good listener.”

“Therapist is full of shit.”

“I’m still a good listener.”

“You know without me talking,” she said.

He hugged her closer. “I do, Callie, but if and when you want to talk, I’m here.”

“I know, Finn, and I don’t mean to be bitchy. What we did over there, just tell me it was for the greater good.”

He tipped her chin up and his lips felt oh, so warm when they touched her cold mouth. “It was definitely for the greater good. That’s the only way to think if we want to stay sane.”

“Okay, then let’s go inside where it’s warm. I’m convinced now that I’m not over there on a mission.” She pushed out of Finn’s lap and went into the house.

Shotgun raced inside ahead of Finn and dropped like a chunk of lead in front of the fireplace beside Callie. One side of her face was in shadow, the other side dimly lit by the glow of the dying embers. Finn had seen her like that lots of times on midnight missions, but never had she looked as beautiful as she did right then.