As upset as he had been that they couldn’t make it home tonight, Clove had done him a favor–she’d given him time to change her mind about him, the ranch, and Felix.
As much as he would have loved to haul Hannah and Felix home and then let Clove catch up to them there, her angry arrival would have brought a sleigh load of trouble for him–especially with his mom. And if there was one woman on the planet, he didn’t want to upset it was Mom. She had more than enough to worry about with the ranch failing, Christmas coming, grandbabies, and Dad not fully recovered almost a year later. Maybe he never would get back to his old self. That alone put pressure on Mom to check in on Drake and his brothers, and was enough of a reason for him to figure out how to get along with the frosty reindeer owner.
He sighed loudly as he went to knock on Hannah’s window again.. “I’m going to see if I can get the trailer over there,” he told her as he pointed to the darkest part of the parking lot. “Then I’ll unhitch and we can head over to the bed-and-breakfast.”
She glanced over her shoulder at the trailer.
“I’ll put Felix on the lead rope and you can hold it out your window. We’ll drive real slow, okay?” He’d sat on a tailgate while holding a lead rope plenty of times but hadn’t attempted it out of an open window with a rank reindeer.
Yes, Felix was rank. He’d been allowed to roam free, never having fences, a barn, or so much as a halter on before. He flew at will and may or may not have the control needed to maneuver around chimneys or land on a roof without making a clatter.
All of which was good, in a way. Reindeer Wrangler Ranch needed Felix more than Santa’s stables needed him. They also needed to be able to work with Felix, though, and that meant training.
A lead rope was very basic training.
“That’ll be just fine, dear.” She began putting her knitting away. She’d made a lot of progress since they’d left the cabin.
“What are you making?” He nodded at her project.
“A blanket.” She ran her hand over the soft-looking yarn. It was red and white striped like a candy cane and as fuzzy as a teddy bear.
“Looks like a good one.” He smiled.
“I hope so. I don’t use patterns and I never quite know how something will turn out until I’ve seen it all the way through. In the beginning, it’s just a bunch of stitches and not beautiful at all. But if you keep going, it turns into something worth holding close.”
She looked out the window to where Clove pulled her four-wheel-drive onto the main road, letting her words sit there like a model of wisdom she hoped he was smart enough to pick up.
He got the message. He just wasn’t sure what to do about it. He hadn’t come to Montana to find a girlfriend, he’d come for a reindeer.
What if you got both?asked a little voice in his head.
He gripped the window. He didn’twanta girlfriend. He wanted freedom. Making friends with Clove and convincing her to let Felix stay at the ranch was enough for him.
But–started the voice, and he cut it off. See, he could cut off the blunt honesty when he wanted to. He just had to figure out how to do that around Clove and everything would be fine.
CHAPTEREIGHT
Clove sat on the queen sized bed in the two story home that was too large for the jolly woman who lived here. Judy had hair that must have been salt and pepper at some time in her life but had gone to snow and thunderclouds. She was short, with round hips and a quick smile. Her pixie haircut, holiday sweater, and black leggings were the image of Christmas cheer.
She’d thrown open her door to Clove and welcomed the three of them to her home as if they were her long-lost cousins. What followed was a half hour of touring the house, finding towels, discussing meals, and sharing a plate of kiss-topped peanut butter cookies that could give an elf a sugar rush. They had just the right balance of peanut butter and chocolate, and she’d eaten two more than she should have.
Now that things had settled down, she debated on whom to call to take care of her chickens, turn on the furnace to keep the pipes from freezing, and run the dishwasher so the dirty dishes didn’t stink to the rafters by the time they got home–hopefully tomorrow. All these chores meant that the person she called would have to go inside the house.
She went through her options.
Pastor Tom was her first thought. While she could trust the aged man in her home, she didn’t quite trust his ability to get up the winding snow path and back down it without breaking a hip. Since he turned seventy, he stayed closer to home and closer to the parish church in the winters.
Sheriff Allen. He was on the right side of the law, and she should be able to trust him in her house. Although he might become suspicious about the state of it, considering her phone call about Grandma. Had she really called him less than three hours ago? It felt like a lifetime ago.
Truly, she was in a different life here. Instead of taking care of their place, doing daily chores, making meals, and all the other things she did to keep their homestead going, someone else would make her bed tomorrow. Judy insisted. In a way, she felt like an imposter here—although another part of her liked knowing that the whole world didn’t rest on her shoulders.
Allen was young enough to make the trek up and back, as evidenced by the fact that he’d done that very thing earlier in the week. The trouble with asking Allen was that it implied they were friends–er, well, acquaintances. Friendly acquaintances that she’d been able to keep some distance with despite his advances for more. She suddenly felt bad for pushing him away all the time. If he needed a friend, she could be that friend. Why did she always assume he was after her for a relationship?
??“...Jingle bells…” ??Grandma’s voice rang out from the shared bathroom next door. She always sang in the shower and it–apparently–didn’t matter if they were in a public-ish building or not.
Also, Grandma saw romance in every single man that came through town. She’d often teased Clove that what she needed was a summer of tourist boyfriends to loosen her up; kissing twenty men without commitment would do her some good. Clove wasn’t interested in a man that didn’t have a commitment bone in his body. She’d had a father like that, and that was enough of that kind of man to last a lifetime.
Not that she could say all that to Grandma. She was Dad’s mom after all and bad-mouthing a woman’s child only put her on the defensive. However, Grandma could say anything she wanted to say about Dad’s wanderlust, and no one got mad at her. Most of the time Clove added a quick amen to the end of Grandma’s my-son-is-a-terror speech.
