Rancher's Covert Christmas. Beth Cornelison
over to the tree that the family decorated each year with a copious number of lights and large red glass balls. The glass decorations were already hung on the tree.
“Um...” Erin said as she approached the tree, putting her glove back on. “Can I make a suggestion?”
Brady turned to face their guest, taking a moment to blow warmth into his hands. “Uh, sure.”
Zane jogged a few steps to catch up to Erin and made the introduction to his new brother-in-law. After niceties were exchanged, Erin waved a gloved hand toward the spruce. “It’s easier to put lights on a tree if you do them before the other decorations.”
“Told you!” another male voice said, and Zane angled his head to see their ranch hand coming out of the stable with an extension cord looped over his arm. Zane introduced Erin to the hand, Dave Giblan, and Dave gave her a smile and a nod of greeting, adding, “We went through this last year, too. But Mr. The-Order-Doesn’t-Make-A-Difference didn’t remember the hassle we had with the lights last time.”
“I don’t mean to butt in. I’ve just learned from experience,” Erin said and grinned brightly at Dave.
He was not jealous of the spark of attraction he saw in her eyes as she replied to the ranch hand, Zane told himself, despite the niggle of irritation in his gut.
Brady grunted and cast Dave a hooded side glance. “Whatever.”
As Brady began plucking the glass decorations off the tree, the ranch foreman joined the crowd, as well. Roy Summers, Brady’s father and long-time ranch employee, frowned at the group. “Is this like a lightbulb riddle? How many ranchers does it take to decorate a Christmas tree?” He cast a startled glance at Erin. “Oh, hello, young lady. You must be the writer.”
More introductions were made, and Roy put a hand on Brady’s shoulder. “Come on, son. Someone’s got to do the real business of the ranch. Give me a hand tending the abscessed hoof on that calf I brought in earlier.”
“Be there in a minute,” Brady said, and Roy firmed his mouth in displeasure.
“I’d say a hurting calf takes priority over some baubles on a tree, son.” He nudged Brady more insistently. “Let’s go.”
“Fine,” Brady replied grudgingly, and he handed off the glass balls he’d gathered to Dave. “Okay, Santa Claus. I’m out. You have the conn.”
Dave responded with a snort and an eye-roll that made Erin chuckle. He repositioned the ladder, which rattled and creaked as he settled it closer to the tree.
“I can’t wait to see it all decorated and the lights glowing.” She turned to Zane, her face lit with enthusiasm, her cheeks and nose pink from the cold. “I love Christmas. Even more than spring. And my birthday’s in spring, so that’s saying something, because I really love celebrating my birthday.”
His chest tightened as he gazed at her. Her eyes reflected a childlike glee that reminded him of Christmases past, rising before the sun with his brother and sister, filled with exuberance and anticipation. As she stood in the winter sun, gazing up at the spruce tree, her breath clouding in the chilled air, Zane finished his earlier interrupted thought. Spruce green. Erin’s eyes were the same color as a Christmas tree, he decided as a he felt a small hiccup in his pulse.
He gave himself a mental finger-thump to the forehead. Don’t go all hearts and flowers over her in the first five minutes, dork. Such an impetuous reaction to a woman was more his flirtatious brother’s style than his own. Zane preferred time to build an opinion based on his interaction with a person.
Pragmatic. Reasoned. Grounded. He prided himself on being everything an oldest sibling should be, even if his age advantage was only five minutes. So why did Erin evoke such a visceral reaction from him?
He cleared his throat and tipped his head toward the guesthouse. “I’ll just put your luggage inside. Then, whenever you’re ready, I can—”
A loud snap crackled through the winter air like a gunshot. In the next instant, the tall step ladder where Dave perched buckled and collapsed. He toppled to the ground, landing with a thud and a feral cry of pain.
Erin gasped her shock and concern as the handsome ranch hand crashed to the frozen ground. If his guttural shout left any doubt to his injury, the odd angle of his leg did not.
She clapped a hand over her mouth as a wave of nausea roiled through her at the gruesome sight. Zane abandoned her bags and brushed past her as he rushed to aid his friend.
“Call 9-1-1!” he yelled to no one in particular.
Pulling her glove off with her teeth, Erin fumbled her cell phone from her purse and tapped in her security code with a trembling finger. She squinted at the screen, trying to make out the image against the glare of the winter sun. Her signal reception was weak at best.
Josh hustled past her. “Landline’s more reliable. I’m on it.”
As Zane’s brother ran toward the main house, Erin faced Zane and Dave again, her heart in her throat. Surely she could do something to help. Yanking her knit scarf from under the collar of her coat, she balled the scarf as she dropped to her knees across from Zane. “Here,” she said, handing him the messily folded neckwear. “Put this under his head.”
A pillow may be a small thing under the circumstances, but she had little else to offer at the moment. And standing idly by while the cowboy suffered was not her style. Action was her go-to mode, and her brain was ticking through more options for the crisis, even as Zane tucked the knit scarf under Dave’s head.
As if sensing something was amiss, the dogs barked and paced the yard. When the black-and-white dog tried to nose in next to him, Zane pushed the dog back. “No, Ace. Lie down.”
The foreman and Brady appeared at the door of the barn across the yard.
“What happened?” Brady called as he trotted toward them.
“Ladder collapsed. Dave broke his leg, maybe more,” Zane returned in a clipped, efficient tone, despite his obvious worry. With a wave of his hand, he directed the father and son to, respectively, fetch someone named Helen and to go to the end of the driveway to flag down the ambulance when it arrived.
Zane’s take-charge leadership impressed Erin, as well as the way that the other men followed his directives without demurring. Zane’s father had indicated as much, as well. Though the McCall siblings and Brady Summers were equal partners in McCall Adventure Ranch, Zane was the gatekeeper, it seemed.
Zane held one of the injured man’s hands, letting Dave squeeze his fingers as he writhed and groaned. “Stay still, buddy. I know it hurts. Help’s coming.”
Seeing Dave’s other hand at his side, his fingers clenched in a tight ball, Erin lifted his fist into her lap. Cupping his fist between her palms, she stroked his taut knuckles with her thumb and muttered, “Hang in there, cowboy.”
Zane’s gaze darted to her, then dropped to her comforting gesture as Dave loosened his balled fingers to grip her hand.
“Thanks,” Dave rasped, casting a quick side glance to her before scrunching his eyes closed in pain. His breathing was shallow and rapid, and she didn’t need to be a nurse to know hyperventilating was not what Dave needed.
“Hey, Dave,” she said, jostling his hand to get his attention. “Will you try something with me?”
Both Zane and Dave peered at her with curious looks.
“You need to calm your breathing, so I thought we could do some yoga breathing together. Will you do it with me?”
The injured cowboy furrowed his brow and stared at her with shock in his eyes. “Yoga?”
Though