A Snowglobe Christmas. Линда Гуднайт

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      Chapter Six

      “He’s thinking of selling out next spring,” Rafe said as he and Amy left the last of the remote homes, a forlorn-looking ranch house with smoke spiraling from the chimney. “Economic times are hard enough and now winter’s taken a toll on his animals.”

      “It must be incredibly hard for him to ranch and care for three kids since his wife died.”

      While Rafe had talked with the rancher and warmed himself by the woodstove Amy had played with the motherless baby. Her heart ached for the man and his children.

      “He seemed pretty down—embarrassed, too.” Vapor clouds puffed from his lips like smoke rings. “A real man doesn’t like taking charity, but he wanted his kids to have Christmas.”

      “I’m so sad for all of them. I wish I knew some other way to help. The ranch is so far out here, he can’t have many visitors.”

      “The life of a Montana rancher.” Rafe pulled his helmet into place and mounted the snowmobile.

      “I suppose.” Still, she wanted to do more. The smiles and gratitude of the other families had blessed her, but the proud rancher and his kids tugged at her heart. “It was nice of you to offer to come up and drive them to the church drama.”

      He shrugged a thickly clad shoulder, the silky material whispering. “I have the equipment. Not a big deal.”

      “It was to them.” She spun the snowmobile around and started back along the tracks they’d made coming in, thinking. About her blessings. About the rancher’s plight. About Rafe.

      They rode for a mile or two, road wind flapping around them, snow spitting up from the ground. After a bit, Rafe gunned his engine and passed her, lifting one gloved hand to point behind him. She got his message. He could beat her even pulling a passenger sled. Challenged, Amy caught up and returned the favor, mood elevated a little to play in the great Montana outdoors with Rafe.

      Miles and miles of pristine snow frosted the meadows and forests. In places, drifts many feet high stacked against the cliffs and mountains. They’d carved a route on their way up but even now, snow flew around them like a blizzard until her vision was obscured. It was a wonderland of beauty and treachery.

      As they neared the outskirts of Snowglobe, the land flattened into an area sparsely populated. In the powder bowl ahead, the amber lights of town and home glowed like angel halos. Rafe pulled alongside her and motioned for her to stop.

      Curious, Amy followed his lead and drove across a bumpy thicket of snow, through a scattering of tall pines toward...nothing. An empty snowy meadow. Rafe stopped and killed his engine, straddling the snowmobile.

      Amy pulled up next to him and flipped up her visor. “Why are we stopping?”

      Rafe ripped off his helmet and speared her with an incomprehensible look, gaze as gray and intense as the sky above. “Wanted to show you something.”

      Amy parked her ride and dismounted, the rumble of the machine still humming through her muscles though she’d shut down the engine.

      Rafe came up beside her. “Look around at this place. What do you think?”

      She looked at him first, saw an eager hope and knew he was showing her something important. Taking her time, she turned slowly, gazing over the ripples and hills of snow, taking in the mountain backdrop, the forest, the panorama of sky above and valley below.

      “In spring a creek runs along the back,” he said, pointing, “through that line of trees and down toward the valley. The land is fairly flat here, plenty of space.”

      And then she knew. A lump formed in her throat. “You bought it.”

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