It's a Christmas Thing (The Christmas Tree Ranch #2)(67)

The audience, who’d stopped dancing to listen, applauded wildly. As the clapping faded, she gave them a smile, nodded to the band, and began to sing “Jolene.”

She was pretty good, Rush conceded. Not Patsy Cline or Dolly Parton good, but good enough for Branding Iron on a Saturday night. She’d chosen great songs, and the audience seemed to love her.

Rush kept an eye on Conner. With Ronda May hanging on to him like an anchor, the man was visibly suffering. It was a pleasure to watch him.

The mystery woman sang two more songs, then walked off the stage and vanished. As the applause faded, the band took up a lively dance tune. Ronda May had pulled Conner back onto the dance floor. Short of shoving her away—and he was too much of a gentleman for that—Conner was helpless to go after the woman who’d cast a spell on him.

“We should check on Clara,” Tracy said.

They walked back up the hallway to the room where the children were being entertained. When she saw them in the doorway, Clara ran to meet them.

“Look at the necklace I made!” Eyes sparkling, she showed them the string of macaroni that hung around her neck. “I’m making a bracelet now. And I have a new friend. Her name’s Brandy.”

“It sounds like you’re having a good time,” Tracy said. “Are you ready to go home yet?”

“Do we have to go now? I want to stay and play a little longer. Okay?”

“Okay,” Rush said. “We’ll give you another half hour. By then it’ll be past your bedtime.”

He caught Tracy’s hand as they hurried back down the hall. “Another half hour to dance with you. Let’s not waste a single minute of it.”

By the time they went back to get Clara, she was tired. Her new friend had already gone home, so she didn’t mind leaving. Rush carried her outside. By the time they made it to Tracy’s car, she was almost asleep.

At Tracy’s he transferred the booster seat to the Hummer and buckled Clara into it before he turned back to Tracy. She melted into his arms for a lingering kiss. “This was a perfect evening,” she murmured.

“Yes, it was. Thank you.” He kissed her again for good measure. “I’ll see you in the morning when I come to vaccinate the kittens.”

“I’ll have breakfast ready for you,” she said.

He left her and drove back to the ranch, humming Christmas songs along with the radio. Things couldn’t have gone better tonight. Dancing with Tracy in his arms had been a dream. He was already looking forward to seeing her tomorrow. And Clara had enjoyed a grand time, too.

A smile tugged at his lips. He could hardly wait to hear what Conner had to say about finding his dream woman.

Travis’s truck and Conner’s Jeep were still gone from the driveway. The house was as he’d left it, with the porch light on and no sign of activity inside. Clara was awake. He could hear her unfastening her safety belt. He climbed out of the Hummer and went around to lift her out of the booster seat.

“Come on, princess, time for bed.” He carried her up the steps, opened the front door with his free hand, and stopped short, frozen in shock.

By lamplight, the living room was a disaster. Clothes and bedding spilled out through the open tent flap and lay strung across the floor. Hunks of scattered white fuzz clung to the furniture and the rug.

“Oh, no!” Clara raced into the room when he put her down. “No, no, no!”

She picked up something off the floor that looked to Rush like a lumpy white rag. His heart sank as he recognized it. It was the ripped outer covering of Snowflake, her beloved toy cat.

Bucket!

But even then, Rush knew that this mess wasn’t Bucket’s fault. It was the nature of a dog to scatter, play, and chew on things. The real fault was his own. In his hurry to leave tonight, he had left Clara’s tent flap unzipped, with Bucket alone in the house.

Clutching the ragged remains of her favorite toy, Clara began to cry—not just her usual sniffling sobs, but a full-blown wail of childish grief that went on and on.

Heartsick, Rush gathered her into his arms and held her until her wails became quiet sobs. “It’ll be all right, sweetheart,” he murmured. “We’ll go shopping tomorrow. I’ll buy you a new cat.”

“But a new cat won’t be the same! It won’t be Snowflake. He was mine. He was special.” She looked up at Rush, her eyes swollen, her face stained with tears. “It was Bucket, wasn’t it? I’m so mad at that dog!”

Rush sighed and patted her small, quivering back. “Bucket was just playing. He didn’t know any better. If you want to be mad at somebody, be mad at me. I was the one who let Bucket in the house and forgot to zip your tent.”

She stared up at him, her eyes brimming. “Oh, Daddy.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “So, so sorry. I’ll do anything to make it up to you.”

But even as he said the words, Rush knew there was nothing he could do.

Bucket came slinking into the room, head down, tail drooping, as if he knew he was in trouble. Bits of white stuffing clung to his muzzle. “Look at him, Clara,” Rush said. “You can tell he’s sorry for what he did. Can you forgive him?”

Clara looked down at the guilty dog. “Maybe later. But I need to stay mad at him for a while.”

“And me? Do you need to stay mad at me, too? If you do, I’ll understand.”