Holidays on the Ranch (Burnt Boot, Texas #1)(32)

He went to his room, kicked off his boots, changed damp pajama bottoms for a pair of jeans, tossed his coat over the back of a rocking chair, and dug a thermal shirt from a drawer. He padded barefoot back to the kitchen, where he made two cups of strong, hot tea in the microwave and carried them to the living room.

He sat down beside her and put a cup in her hands.

“Thanks,” she mumbled.

“Drink it. It’ll warm you from the inside,” he said.

Finn scooted his feet toward the fireplace. “Remember when my cousin Sawyer sent me the whiskey in a mouthwash bottle?”

A smile played at the corners of her mouth and lifted his spirits. He knew how hard it was to shake off the nightmares.

“We saved it for just the right time,” he said.

She nodded. “And after that Christmas, we figured since we’d missed the turkey, we might as well drink the whiskey.”

“And you got drunk as a skunk. I swear you can’t hold your liquor worth a damn,” Finn said.

“That’s because you let me drink the whole damn thing except for two shots,” she said.

He moved closer so that his feet were against hers. “Well, you were the one bitching about not getting to eat the big turkey dinner, and I was being a gentleman, letting you have all you wanted so you’d be happy. I bet it was even frozen turkey and the gravy was that canned shit.”

“You couldn’t see past Lala in those days, cowboy. I didn’t give a shit about the dinner itself. I just wanted to share it with you,” she said.

“Why didn’t you say something?” he asked.

“You were up in Lala’s brown eyes,” Callie said.

He set his half-empty cup on the coffee table and took hers from her hands and put it beside his. Then he laced his fingers in her hands and leaned in closer, gazing right into her eyes.

“Right now I only see Callie Brewster,” he whispered.

“Good. I never did like Lala. I knew something wasn’t right with that woman,” she whispered.

His lips were still cool when they landed on hers. His hands moved up under her shirt to massage the tight muscles in her back. She groaned.

He backed off. “Did I hurt you?”

“God, no! It felt wonderful,” she said. “Hold me, Finn. I don’t want to go to bed alone.”

He picked her up and carried her to the recliner, where he sat down with her in his lap and then pulled the lever. They faced each other, her body pressed against his, his face buried in her hair. “I’m right here, Callie. All night if you need me to be.”

Sleep didn’t come when he shut his eyes. Instead he got a picture of Callie lying beside him in the sand, camouflage covering everything but their eyes as they watched a truck approaching. Together they took out the target. Together they made it back to base in one piece. But it wasn’t until time and experiences brought them both to Salt Draw that they were really together.

He’d barely shut his eyes when all hell broke loose. Joe started squawking about police and coroners. Pistol added his high-pitched barking, and poor old Shotgun went crazy, running from the window to the door, howling like a rabid coyote at the full moon. Callie’s cussing over the top of it all came through loud and clear.

Finn jerked the lever and Callie was suddenly standing in the middle of the floor.

“What is going on out there? It sounds like Big Foot is on our porch,” Callie said.

Finn threw the door open. “It’s cattle and a lot of them. Looks like another stampede, only this time it stopped in our front yard.”

She flipped on the porch light. Shotgun pawed at the storm door, and Joe started yelling about crackers and cats, as if he couldn’t figure out what he wanted.

“There’s a big hindquarter pressed up against the door, and I can see a brand. Looks like these came from River Bend Ranch because there’s an RBR right there in plain sight. I guess we call them, right?”

“The Gallaghers are getting back at the Brennans for ruining Santa Claus and their tree. Dammit, Callie. I thought we were through with this feud. Call the sheriff and get him out here before you call anyone else,” Finn said. “Me and Shotgun will get them off the porch.”

“Looks like more than a hundred of them, but how did they wind up in our yard?” Callie asked.

“I expect that Betsy is sending you and Honey a message,” Finn said. “And to think I came to Burnt Boot for peace and quiet.”

She found the sheriff’s number in the old phone book on top of the refrigerator and poked the numbers into her cell phone.

“Sheriff Orville Newberry here,” he answered.

“Hello, this is Callie Brewster out at Salt Draw. We’ve got cattle all over the ranch with the River Bend brand. They’re even on our porch. I expect when we call the Brennans there’s going to be a problem because they’re going to blame the Gallaghers for turning their cattle loose,” she said.

“Go on and call them. I’ll be there right soon. And, Callie, it’s nice to hear your voice again,” the sheriff said.

With modern-day technology lending a helping hand to the gossip grapevine, news traveled faster than the speed of light, even at midnight on a cloudy night. The Brennans, led by Honey and Declan, showed up at Salt Draw before Finn and Shotgun shooed the last cranky heifer off the porch.