Holidays on the Ranch (Burnt Boot, Texas #1)(86)

“I’ve picked out my three. It’s your turn,” Finn said.

She scanned down through the listing and picked out her quarter’s worth, then turned around and put her arms around his neck. Brad Paisley started off the six songs with “Good Morning Beautiful.”

“I thought this was all old songs by old artists,” she said.

“Verdie told me that if Polly likes a song, she figures out a way to get it on a 45 so it’ll go in the jukebox, and this is my song to you, Callie Brewster,” he breathed into her ear.

The lyrics said that he never worried if it was raining outside because inside with her the sun always shined and his night was wonderful with her by his side—that when he opened his eyes to see her beside him, it was a good morning, beautiful day.

He twirled her and brought her back to his chest as the song ended.

“Well, this one is my song to you,” she said as Sammi Smith sang “Help Me Make It Through the Night.”

The first lyrics said for him to take the ribbons from her hair, to shake it loose and let it fall, to lay it soft against his skin like the shadows on the wall. She asked him to lie down by her side until the early morning light and to help her make it through the night. She said that it was sad to be alone, and Callie could relate to that. She didn’t want to be alone, but Finn deserved so much more than she was or could give.

Finn tipped her chin up for a soft kiss. “I’m here, Callie, forever, amen, and I would have played that one, but it’s not on the jukebox. I recognize this tune. I’m just a plain old country bumpkin. I don’t wear three-piece suits, but this could be our song if you want it to be.”

Cal Smith’s “Country Bumpkin” told the tale of a couple’s life from the time that a cowboy came into the bar and parked his lanky frame upon a tall bar stool. The barroom girl with knowing eyes looked him up and down and wondered how a country bumpkin like that even found his way to town. By the time the song got to the part about them bringing their first son into the world, tears were flowing down Callie’s cheeks and leaving marks on Finn’s white shirt. It went on to forty years later when she was on her deathbed knowing her race was almost done, and she looked into the eyes of her son and husband and told her country bumpkins good-bye. And Callie wept even harder.

“It’s us if you want it to be,” Finn said.

“Forty years isn’t enough, Finn. And I could never leave you,” Callie said.

“Then think hard about making this thing permanent,” he said. “Oh, the next one is my last song. It’s my story, in a way, but it brought you into my life, Callie. If I’d have been satisfied where I was on the ranch, if I hadn’t wanted something more than cows and corn, I would have never met you. I thought of this song a lot and played it often, both by Waylon and Travis, when we were over there. It almost happened just like this with me and Daddy sitting on the porch and him not wanting me to go to the army but to stay in Texas and be a rancher.”

The twang of the guitar started the song, and then Waylon began to sing that he wanted a life where corn don’t grow. More tears dammed up behind her lashes as she thought of Finn telling his daddy that he wanted to leave the ranch. She could feel the emotion in Finn’s body when the lyrics said that the weeds were high in the land where corn don’t grow. It said that hard times were real and dusty fields were there no matter where you go.

“It was dusty, and corn damn sure didn’t grow over there in Afghanistan,” she said.

“Our kids might want to get away from it, Callie, but if we give them a good foundation, they’ll come back,” he said.

“I don’t think Martin will ever leave the ranch. He’s seen the world where corn don’t grow, and he didn’t like it,” she said. “And this one is definitely for both of us.”

Merle Haggard’s “That’s the Way Love Goes” started, and she looped both her arms around Finn’s neck.

Haggard sang that he’d spent his whole life searching for that four-leaf clover, that she’d run with him chasing that rainbow, and that’s the music God made for the world to sing.

“I do love you, Finn,” she said.

“That’s enough for tonight. Let’s drink the rest of our beer before it goes flat and gets warm.” He led her back to the bar.

A tall cowboy went to the jukebox and put in his quarter, and several other cowboys and cowgirls joined him on the dance floor as they did a line dance to Elvis Presley’s “Burning Love.”

“Guess they’re ready to shake it up a little, but y’all sure looked cute out there making love with your eyes,” Polly said. “And here come the Brennans. Okay, folks, let’s get something straight. This is neutral ground. One nasty little trick, and me and my shotgun will take care of it,” Polly yelled.

Gallaghers, some still dressed in fancy clothing, plowed in behind them.

“That goes for the whole lot of you. Be civil or get the hell out of my bar,” Polly said. “Now where were we? Oh, I was sayin’ that y’all looked cute out there. I bet you could do some fancy fast dancin’, too.”

The Brennans claimed the south end of the bar, and the Gallaghers took the north end. Wicked looks went back and forth, and for damn sure, they did not dance with one another, but no one started anything. Evidently Polly and her shotgun were a formidable couple.