The Cowboy's Christmas Lullaby. Stella Bagwell
“I mean, an outside job.”
“Yes. She’s a waitress in a downtown restaurant. Believe it or not, she used to have a nice office job as a secretary to a banker. But it was too stressful. She likes being out among people.”
“And your father?”
“He works for a real estate firm over in Sacramento. He never cared for farming like his father up in Redding.”
“So your parents aren’t together anymore?”
She shook her head. “No. They divorced when Spence and I were teenagers. They’re still friendly, though. And neither one of them ever remarried. I think they still love each other, but throw them together for more than two hours and an argument will break out. You’re very lucky, you know, that your parents are still together and work together. I think that’s so nice.”
Lucky. Yes, in so many ways Denver knew he was blessed. But there were plenty of times, like tonight, when he looked at the Calhoun brothers with their devoted wives and growing families, that he felt like a man with a missing limb. He was surviving without any problems. But a part of him longed to feel whole again.
“Yes. My parents are special,” he replied.
She rose from the chair and backed up to the fire. Denver tried not to notice how the firelight silhouetted her curvy shape or the way it turned her auburn hair into a fiery glow around her head.
“You must like your job here on the Silver Horn a lot,” she said.
“Guess it’s obvious.”
She smiled faintly. “You’ve been here a long time. Twelve years, didn’t you say?”
“That’s right. When I first came here, I wasn’t sure I would like it. I’d never worked on a ranch this big before. But the Calhouns are special people. They made it feel like home. And made it clear that I was appreciated. That means a lot.”
Her expression sober, she nodded. “I guess you must have been here when Claudia, Orin’s wife, died.”
In spite of the fire, Denver suddenly felt cold inside. He’d been working here on the ranch for only two years when Claudia had taken that tragic fall down the staircase and fatally injured her head. Seeing Orin lose his wife so soon after Denver had lost Christa had been like being hit by an avalanche. He’d had to dig himself out of the misery all over again.
“Yes,” he said stiffly. “It was tragic for him. For the whole family.”
“I’m glad he’s dating Noreen now,” she commented. “But frankly, I’m surprised he hasn’t married her yet.”
“I’m not,” he said bluntly.
Her brows arched slightly, and Denver knew his remark had surprised her.
“Oh. You say that as if you know what’s holding him back.”
“I do. You see, I’m a widower, too.”
She stared at him as everything from shock to empathy flickered across her face. “I’m sorry. I had no idea.”
He shrugged. “Don’t be sorry. You didn’t say anything wrong. Besides...it happened a long time ago.”
She let out a heavy breath. “Well, I feel awful anyway. If I’d known, I wouldn’t have mentioned anything about Claudia and Orin.”
“Forget it,” he said quietly, then added, “Please.”
She hugged her arms to her and Denver realized she must be getting cold.
He said, “If you’re getting chilly, I can build up the fire.”
“No. I should probably be going back in. I told Ava and Lilly I’d visit the kids for just a few minutes. If I don’t show up soon, they’ll be going upstairs after me.”
He didn’t want her to go. He wanted to sit here with her for hours. Just the two of them alone. He wanted to keep hearing her voice and smelling her flowery scent. He wanted to touch her and feel her touching him.
Had he suddenly lost his mind? Or was he just now waking up after a long sleep? Either way, she was shaking him in ways that were downright scary.
Rising to his feet, he stood next to her and stared into the flames licking around the chunks of mesquite and pine.
“Yeah, I guess I should go back inside, too,” he admitted. “Orin and Clancy still haven’t brought up the subject of the feed program. I think they’ve forgotten the reason I’m here for this gathering tonight.”
She cleared her throat. “I don’t think they’ve forgotten.”
Intrigued by her comment, he turned his head and allowed his gaze to slide over her profile. “What do you mean?”
After a brief hesitation, she said, “I’m not sure. Actually, what I’m thinking is...almost too embarrassing to repeat. But I’m beginning to think I should.”
He stepped in front of her. “What are you thinking?”
“It’s a good thing we’re standing in the dark,” she mumbled. “Or you’d see that my face is actually the same color as the fire.”
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