The Cowboy's Christmas Bride. Patricia Johns

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       Chapter Two

      Dakota put her truck into reverse and pulled a three-point turn before heading out the drive that lead to the main road. She steered around a pothole, the dried fingertips of bushes scratching across the side of her vehicle. Mission accomplished: she’d secured the job. When Chet had called several days ago asking her to lend a hand on their late cattle drive for a decent sum, she’d been relieved. They needed the extra money rather badly, especially with Christmas coming up. Sometimes blessings came in the form of hard work.

      Andy had been a surprise, though.

      She turned onto the main road and heaved a sigh. She’d been more nervous than she’d thought when she realized she’d be dealing with Andy and not his more likeable brother. But a job was a job, and with her mother’s medical bills for her emergency hysterectomy last year and the down payment they needed to put down for the new hydration system, she’d take a paycheck any way she could get it, and this drover position was paying relatively well. Chet was like that. He knew better than to offer the Masons charity, but he’d offer a job for fair pay. That was the sort of kindness Dakota could accept.

      The road divided the land—one side an endless, rippling carpet of golden wheat, the other what used to be the Granger’s pasture, a mixture of maize yellow with olive green and sienna—the different grasses maturing together into a rich expanse, the beauty of which was marred by muddy roads. The growl of large machinery surfed the breeze, tractors creeping along the ground in the distance, and every time she looked at them, a new wave of anger swept over her. Lordship Land Developers had friends in powerful places to get the zoning for this eyesore, and all the petitions she’d filed had made no difference at all. Apparently money spoke louder than righteous indignation. And Dakota had plenty of righteous indignation.

      This county—this road—was as much a part of her as her own blood, and seeing it torn apart hurt on a gut level. Andy had seemed properly surprised at the impact his choice had had on their ranch, but it didn’t change where the blame lay. He’d had one foot out of town for as long as she’d known him. Again, a lot like Nina Harpe—the woman engaged to her brother, Brody...whom her brother still believed he’d marry. Except, Nina had up and married Brody’s best friend while he was stationed overseas with the army. Nina was more than beautiful—she was voluptuous and sexy, a Marilyn Monroe singing Happy Birthday to the president. Apparently, one of her virtues wasn’t patience.

      Dakota wasn’t given to petty grudges. She believed in second chances and people’s ability to grow, unless that person had singlehandedly impoverished her family’s land or broken her brother’s heart. Her benevolence had a limit. To be fair, Brody’s heart wasn’t broken yet...but that clock was ticking.

      And yet, in one small corner of her own heart, she found herself pitying Andy. He deserved what he got—there was no ambivalence there—yet the softer side of her still hated to see someone suffer. Even Andy Granger.

      A few miles farther led to her own drive and she slowed to make the turn. As her tires crunched over the gravel, her phone chirped on the seat beside her. It was an incoming email. She glanced down and saw that it was from Brody. It was always a treat to hear from him, except lately, when he was asking more persistently about Nina. There was more to that story and she couldn’t be the one to tell him.

      Dakota and Brody always had been close as kids. She’d been fiercely protective of her quiet big brother, and he’d never really treated her like a little kid. Before he’d left, they’d discussed the future of the ranch in depth together, and it felt weird to have him so far away. But this was what Brody had always dreamed of, joining the army and protecting his country.

      A brown, floppy-eared mutt raced after the truck as she pulled to a stop next to the single-level ranch house. Shelby bounced excitedly, planting several muddy footprints into Dakota’s jeans when she opened the door.

      “Hi, girl,” she said, scratching the dog behind the ears.

      “That you, Dakota?” Her mother’s voice came from the house and then she appeared at the screen door. Her sweater was rolled up to the elbows, her front covered in a floral print apron and her hands—held up like a surgeon’s—were covered in flour.

      “Hi, Mom.”

      “Where were you?”

      “I was just lining things up with the Grangers for their cattle drive.” Dakota gave Shelby another rub and then headed toward the house. She kicked her boots against the step on her way in.

      She glanced down at her phone and skimmed her brother’s email as she came in past the screen door.

      “What are you reading?” her mother asked, glancing over her shoulder. She was working on some cinnamon buns, rolling out the fluffy dough with a heavy, wooden rolling pin.

      “Email from Brody.”

      “How’s he doing?”

      They all missed Brody. He’d been gone a full year now, and anyone who heard from him was honor-bound to share with the rest of the family. He was serving the country, and Dakota was so proud of him it almost hurt sometimes, but that only made their secret here at home all the heavier.

      “He’s asking about Nina again,” Dakota said as she came into the kitchen, and she and her mother exchanged a look.

      “What did you say?” her mother asked, reaching for the butter plate.

      “I haven’t answered him.” Dakota sighed. “I really don’t like lying to him, Mom. He’s going to hate us for this.”

      Brody СКАЧАТЬ