Cowboy Boots for Christmas (6 page)

He set the boxes down right there on the ice-covered grass and whistled softly. The dog wagged his tail, ducked its head shyly, and sniffed Finn’s outstretched hand.

“Who are you and what are you doing on the ranch? Verdie didn’t mention a dog, and I don’t see her having a little guy like you around. I guess if Callie can bring in a stray, I can, too. It’s a big house and a big ranch. I hope you aren’t afraid of cats, but your friend there, I’m not too sure about him,” he said.

Finn’s feet slipped when he straightened up, but he got his balance before he took a tumble. Ice was so much worse than snow, and if the weatherman was right, the temperatures were going to stay below freezing for several days. It was going to be a cold tree-decorating party downtown that evening. Maybe they’d stay in after they’d decorated their tree.

He touched his lips. He’d far rather have one more kiss from Callie than go to town amongst all that feuding.

Martin looked up from the tree when Finn rounded the end of the porch. “I got it all cleaned out. I even rolled it over so I could make sure. And the only time Shotgun moved a muscle was when he got to quiverin’ and yippin’ a little while ago. I think he was chasin’ that rabbit in his dreams. It sure did get cold when that wind hit, didn’t it? What is that?”

“I expect it’s a Chihuahua,” Finn said.

“Can we keep it?” Martin’s sudden intake of breath had nothing to do with the cold. He pulled off his ragged gloves, and the old dog licked his fingers.

The parrot flew down and landed in the cedar tree branches.

“Hot damn!” it said.

“And a bird, too? Wow, Finn. We sure are a lucky bunch here on Salt Draw. How are we going to get the bird inside the house? Callie is going to love it.”

Finn looked over the tree. “Good job, Martin. The bird and dog seem to be traveling together. You think Angel will try to eat the bird if we let it in the house? Poor dog looks too old to be able to endure much of this weather. Shotgun, come over here and give us your opinion on this overgrown rat.”

Shotgun got up and slowly made his way to the newcomer. They sniffed noses and circled each other a couple of times, then the big dog put a paw on the little guy’s back and began giving him a bath.

“He likes him,” Martin yelped. “Does that mean we get to keep him?”

“I guess it does. Open the door and we’ll drag that tree in the house,” Finn said.

“You got the stuff in those boxes?” Martin asked.

“I found a stand out there in the barn and something else, but I don’t know what it is. Guess we’ll have a surprise when we open it up,” Finn answered.

Callie opened the door and took the boxes from Finn’s hands, and then the two guys dragged their tree into the house. Shotgun dashed inside, with the new dog right on his heels. And the bird flew into the house like he owned the place.

“Shut up, dog.” The bright-colored parrot lit on the curtain rod in the living room.

“Where did the dog and bird come from?” Callie asked as the bird lit on her shoulder and squawked, “Cat! Cat!”

“Guess it talks and it doesn’t like cats.” She moved slowly away from the door.

“They just appeared. They seem to be partners in crime though. The dog won’t be a problem, but we’ll have to get a birdcage for the parrot if he’s going to stick around. Or else we’ll be cleaning up after him all the time,” Finn said.

“Cat! Cat! Run, dog, run!” the bird said.

Angel peeked out from around the corner of the kitchen, all the hair on her back standing straight up. She let out a pitiful meow and ran over to Shotgun for protection.

“I’ve got an idea.” Finn hurried into the spare room in his wing of the house and drug out Shotgun’s old kennel. He set it on the dining room table and opened the door.

The Chihuahua barked twice, and the bird lit on the curtain rod above the window looking out into the front yard. “Shut up, dog. Joe needs crackers,” he said and then set about preening his pretty feathers.

“The dog talks to him,” Callie said. “I wonder how long they’ve been out in the cold. Poor little things.”

“It’s misting. You know what that means?” Finn asked.

“Ice,” she said. “The dog might have died if you hadn’t found him. And parrots are tropical birds. He wouldn’t have made it through the night. Wonder what their names are?”

“If no one claims them, we’ll have to think about that, but the bird just told you his name. He said Joe needs crackers.” Finn removed his coat and hung it on the rack inside the door. He held out his arm, and Joe lit on it and fluffed his feathers.

“Hot damn! Time to dance.” Joe wiggled his head and body from side to side.

“I bet he’d really dance to music.” Martin laughed.

“I’m going to ease him into the cage,” Finn said.

It was easily said, but when he got close to the cage, the bird went crazy. “Run, dog, run. Cops. Prison. Run.” He flapped his wings and flew around the room squawking about somebody killing him, dropping specks of crap on the table, on the floor, and even on Shotgun’s back. The Chihuahua got all excited and started howling, and Angel screeched like someone was wringing her tail as she headed for safety under the kitchen table. Martin tried to talk the bird into lighting on his arm, but Joe wasn’t having any part of it. He finally lit on his curtain rod perch and gave Finn the old stink eye.

“Guess he don’t like a cage.” Callie grabbed paper towels to clean up the mess.

Callie was so cute in that red plaid flannel shirt and jeans that Finn wanted to forget about the damn bird, cuddle up with her on the sofa again, and hold her close as the embers crackled in the fireplace.

Callie finished the cleanup and whispered, “Let him alone until he calms down. Maybe we could get a leg ring and attach it to a perch in the window. Just go about your business like he’s not there. Now, what’s in the boxes?”

“Don’t know, but they were marked
Christmas
, so I brought them inside. Hopefully, there really is a tree stand in that one.” Finn shivered.

“Hot chocolate is ready. I’ve got it poured up, so go warm your hands and then we’ll dig into them together,” she said.

Martin shucked out of his coat and hung it on the lowest hook of the rack. Finn kicked off his boots and set them beside the door. Martin did the same with his shoes, which had seen better days, but then, they were his work gear, not those ugly neon-green things he would have to wear to school the next day. Maybe if the boy forgot to change shoes when they cleaned horse stables and he ruined the shoes, then Callie wouldn’t fuss about new ones.

Martin dropped down on his knees and held his hand out to the new dog. “Look, he likes me. I think we should name him Pistol. That would go with Shotgun, wouldn’t it?”

“Well, shit! Guns. Hit the ground, punk!” Joe hung upside down on the perch and shut his eyes.

Finn wrapped his cold hands around the mug of chocolate and sipped at it. “Tastes wonderful, and the dog does look like a Pistol, so we’ll call him that until we see if someone claims him. Welcome to Salt Draw, Pistol and Joe.”

Angel slithered out from under the kitchen table and walked sideways on her tiptoes toward the dog. It ignored her completely until she was just inches away and then it flopped down on its belly and wagged its tail. Angel sniffed its nose and then licked it up across the face.

“Looks like Shotgun and Angel think he needs a bath,” Finn said.

“They’re just making friends with him. He’s sure enough different than Shotgun,” Callie said, smiling. “I’ve always wanted pets, but an apartment isn’t the place to have them.”

“I don’t reckon he’ll be much good at herding cows, but he might be real good as an alarm system.” Finn would have gathered up every stray in the county just to see her smile like that every day.

“How is a dog an alarm system?” Martin asked.

“Well, if someone comes around, I bet he lets the whole house know it.”

“Sue the bastards.” The bird flew down, lit on Martin’s head, and deposited a dollop of bird crap on his back.

Callie grabbed another paper towel and wiped it away. “We’ve got to get him settled somewhere. I’ve got a necklace that might work for a chain, but we need a perch.”

“I know.” Martin got up slowly and motioned for them to follow him to the utility room. He pointed at a foldout clothes-drying rack made of dowel rods. “If we set that up in front of the window and put a chain on his leg, he could move from one end to the other. It looks like four rods all the same height, so he could even hop from one to the other if the chain wasn’t too short.”

“With newspaper under it to catch all the droppings,” Finn said. “It just might work.”

“Will you take care of keeping the newspaper changed?” Callie asked Martin.

“I sure will.” Martin beamed.

Finn carried the rack to the living room with Martin and Joe right behind him. Callie went off to her bedroom to get the leg-irons.

They managed to get the chain around his leg, but then he figured out what was going on and threw a hissy fit. “Run, dog. Police. They’re killin’ me. Sue the bastards.” Joe hopped from one rung to the other and back again.

“I think Joe has watched too much television.” Finn laughed.

“Where’s the remote? Damn police. Joe wants doughnuts.” He went as far as the chain would let him and pecked at the edge of the curtains.

“One problem solved, now let’s go back to the Christmas tree,” Finn said.

“He’s very vocal. I’ve never seen a bird that could say so many words.” Callie sat down on the floor in front of the fireplace, and the new dog crawled up in her lap.

Finn joined her, thigh against hers, the sizzle there every single time. “I think he’s taken to you.”

She picked up the dog and held him up to her face. He promptly licked her from chin to forehead. “You do look like a Pistol. I like this little guy. The bird belongs to you guys. I don’t even like canaries and parakeets, so I sure don’t want a bird.”

“Hot damn! Joe needs a cracker,” the bird said.

“His name is Joe for sure,” Callie said.

“Well, Mary!”

Callie laughed out loud. “I bet his owner is married to Mary. That should narrow down the list, right?”

Pistol wiggled out of her arms, sniffed the air, and followed his nose to the food bowl in the utility room. Angel romped along behind him, hackles up and meowing like someone had rocked on her tail.

“She wants him to play,” Callie said.

“Either that or she’s warning him not to eat all that food.” Finn stole sideways glances at Callie. She’d aged little in the past two years, but there was a more mature look to her. Maybe instant motherhood did that to a woman. Whatever, it damn sure looked good on her.

Callie dragged one of the boxes over to her side and opened it carefully. “It’s a red metal tree stand and a quilted tree skirt. Wonder why Verdie left these behind?”

Finn stood up and crossed the great room into the kitchen area. He put his empty cup in the dishwasher and settled in on the end of the sofa. “Maybe where she moved to doesn’t have room for a big tree that requires water.”

Callie ripped open the other box and said, “Look. It’s a strand of those big old lights folks used to put on trees. And this used to be strung popcorn, but the string is so old that it’s falling apart. This other thing is cranberries that have turned into raisins.”

Finn patted the sofa beside him. “We could string popcorn and cranberries, but if we want to go to the Christmas tree lighting, we’ll have to put that part of the decorating off until tomorrow evening. It’s your choice.”

“Popcorn. Popcorn. Joe wants popcorn.” Joe made noises like corn popping in the microwave, complete with a ding like a timer going off.

“Please, can we go to town?” Martin begged. “I might meet some kids that like me, and tomorrow won’t be so scary.”

“We can string popcorn and cranberries another day,” Callie said.

It was the right thing to let the boy meet other kids, but Finn’s heart took a nosedive. He really would have rather stayed home with Callie than mix and mingle with people who didn’t even like each other.

A couple of hours later, Finn stood back and looked at their tree. It looked kind of pitiful with one strand of lights and a couple of paper decorations that Martin made at the last minute.

“Oh, I forgot something. I’ll be right back.”

He was only gone a few minutes before he returned with a small boot in his hand. He handed it to Callie. “You can put it on the tree.”

Her eyes widened at the sight of the small ornament. “You kept that thing all this time?”

“Of course. It was our only real ornament, remember? The last ornament the base store had to offer on Christmas Eve.” His arm went around her shoulders. “You said it would have to be something like a damned old cowboy would buy.”

He could tell by the instant sparkle in her eyes that she really did remember.

“Y’all had a Christmas tree together before this one?” Martin asked.

“Yes, we did.” Callie nodded.

While she circled the tree four or five times, she told him about going to the base store and the boot being the only ornament left. She cocked her head this way and that way and finally came back to the front and gave the boot the most visible place on the tree—front and center.

“The crowning glory,” she said. “Now it’s time to eat supper and get bundled up to go see this Christmas tree thing they were talking about in church this morning.”

“Gladys whispered to me that there was lots of refreshments, so we need to save room for them,” Martin said.

“I’ve already had my dessert, out there under the pecan tree,” Finn whispered for Callie’s ears only.

Gladys was watching an old Western movie on television when her phone rang. She grabbed it on the fourth ring and said, “Hello, Honey.”

“Have you heard anything about the Christmas tree lighting?”

“After that catfight you and Betsy had in church this morning, I’ve been hearing plenty. There could be a problem at the lighting, but you’d best make sure nothing happens in my store.”

“Betsy isn’t getting away with putting me down in front of Finn like that. Even if I didn’t want him, I’ll have him now that she does. We’re lighting our tree first. If they do something, they’ll be damn sorry. Call Polly and see what she knows. And nothing will happen inside the store. They might try something like burning our tree, but they wouldn’t dare do anything in the store,” Honey said.

“You know I don’t like spying,” Gladys said.

“Yes, you do. It keeps you young.” Honey laughed. “And besides, you know that we all consider you family.”

“All the butterin’ up in the world won’t make me sell you Fiddle Creek,” Gladys said.

“I’ve given up hope for that to ever happen, but I would like to know ahead of time if those hussies who’ll back up Betsy are planning something evil. Please find out for me. I’ll owe you big time,” Honey pleaded.

“Yes, you will,” Gladys said.

She didn’t even put the phone back on the end table when Honey hung up but promptly hit the speed dial button for Polly. She heard all kinds of things in the bar, and she’d know if there was trouble brewing in the Gallagher court.

When Polly didn’t answer, she left a message after the beep and went back to watching television. It was still several hours until tree lighting time, so she didn’t have to rush right back to Honey. It would do her good to learn a little patience after the way she’d acted in church. For two cents, Gladys would stop being her spy, but then blood was thicker than water, and Honey’s mama was Gladys’s cousin’s kid.

***

Polly had just lain down for a nap when her phone rang, sounding like a marching band coming right down the middle of her bed. She grabbed for it and came close to falling off the bed before she got her balance.

“This better damn sure be good,” she growled.

“Miz Polly, darlin’,” Betsy said sweetly. “Are we going to have trouble at the Christmas tree lighting tonight?”

“Don’t you go sweet-talkin’ me with the same mouth you used in church this mornin’, Betsy Gallagher. I don’t care if I do have a family member in your clan. I was about to take a Sunday afternoon nap, and I don’t give a shit if the Brennans set fire to your Christmas tree.”

“Oh, they are?” Betsy gasped.

“I said I didn’t give a shit. I didn’t say that I know if they are or aren’t,” Polly said. She shouldn’t have answered the phone. She hadn’t picked it up when Gladys called, and she was her best friend.

“But they’re gettin’ ready for war, aren’t they?” Betsy asked.

“I damn sure would be. Y’all better load your guns, check your ammo supply, and count your cows.”

“Would you call Gladys and find out what they’re really doing? People talk in the store, and she hears things.”

Polly sighed. “Okay, but only since I’m already awake, and I’ll call you after we talk a spell. Don’t be callin’ me. I hate it when I’m trying to talk and those beeps cut off the words.”

“I’ll be waiting right here,” Betsy said.

Polly pressed the button to end the conversation and immediately hit the speed dial for her sister-in-law. Lord, she wished that her cousin’s son hadn’t married into that wild bunch of Gallaghers. She felt like she was in bed with the devil every time she pumped Gladys for information.

“Why’d you take so long to call me back?” Gladys answered.

“I was tryin’ to take a nap but I couldn’t get to sleep,” Polly said. “And then I got to thinkin’ about that dustup in the church this morning. Do you think it was just the tip of the iceberg and they’re about to get serious? It’s been awhile since the feud has fired up real good.”

“You know I hear things in the store just like you hear things in the bar. I believe they’ve just been lookin’ for a reason to fan the fires. Well, I think the Brennans are fearful that the Gallaghers are going to sabotage the Christmas tree thing tonight. What do you reckon they’ll do?”

“Hell if I know, but I’m damn sure going to be there because I overheard a Gallagher sayin’ that if they set fire to their tree, then they’ll retaliate,” Polly said.

“I sure wish Verdie was here. She’ll miss all the fun. She always thought we ought to make the Brennans and Gallaghers put both their trees on the churchyard since it’s neutral territory.”

Polly laughed. “Verdie tries to be a peacemaker, and there ain’t been no peace in Burnt Boot for very long at a time.”

“You’re right. It’s been goin’ on too long now to ever expect an end. Wouldn’t surprise me if the Brennans don’t fire the first shot at this one after the way Betsy went after Finn this morning. Honey’s been sayin’ for two days that she was takin’ him home for Sunday dinner. Betsy had to know and she stepped over the line.”

That’s all Polly needed to know. The Brennans were planning to start the war in retaliation. Well, they’d started a new episode in the past for a lot less, and once she reported to Betsy, Polly still had time for a nap before the ceremonies that evening.

***

Red satin tablecloths covered two long refreshment tables right inside the General Store doors. Candles burned brightly in the centerpieces, and two women kept busy helping the folks with hot chocolate, coffee, and spiced cider from silver carafes and red punch from a crystal punch bowl. Every square inch of both tables were filled with finger foods of all descriptions.

“It is a big spread,” Callie said.

“It’s pretty, ain’t it?” Gladys said. “Try one of those decorated Christmas cookies. Leah Brennan makes them, and she don’t share her recipe.”

“This is the Brennan party, then?” Callie asked.

“Yes, they always put their tree in front of my store, and the Gallaghers set theirs up over at the bar. You’ll have to go to both, but don’t forget to have a cookie. I heard that Honey has asked her to make a couple dozen in the morning to bring over to Salt Draw,” Gladys whispered.

“They might have a bigger tree, but ours is prettier,” Finn whispered so close behind Callie that his breath warmed her neck and shot all kinds of delicious little shivers down her backbone.

With his hand on her upper arm, he led her to the window to get a better look at the tree in the parking lot. It was covered with huge Christmas bulbs and gold tinsel that the north wind kept in constant movement.

“I agree,” she said. “Where’s Martin?”

Finn nodded toward the end of the table where Martin was talking to a little girl about his age. “He’s fine.”

“I’m going to get a cup of something hot. Can I get you one?” She wiggled free of his embrace and started toward the end of the table with the hot cider.

“Coffee, please,” he said.

Honey passed her on the way. Callie caught the look in her eye and stopped in her tracks. Forget the coffee and cider; Finn might need her.

Honey looped her arm through his and pressed her body against his. She was dressed in a skintight red velvet dress that looked like it had been spray painted onto her skin. Callie took a couple of steps in that direction and heard her say, “Finn, I’m so glad to see you again. I’ve got a surprise for you tomorrow morning.”

“And what is that?” he asked.

She kissed him on the cheek and whispered something Callie couldn’t hear, but Finn’s expression said that it was downright sinful. With those long red fingernails, the woman reminded Callie of a giant hawk with its claws out to pick up a helpless kitten.

“Finn,” Callie yelled over the noise of a store full of people.

His eyes darted around until they found her. He walked away from Honey, his eyes never leaving Callie’s. “Yes?”

“It’s getting hot in here. Let’s go on outside,” she said.

“Oh, darlin’, it will get much hotter before the week is out. That’s a promise you can take to the bank.” Honey laughed.

Finn laced his fingers with Callie’s and motioned to Martin, who nodded. They were all three about to push the door open when suddenly the two lovely ladies serving refreshments started screaming, stomping, and carrying on like they were possessed or else going into seizures. They held their arms out to the sides and shivered from head to toe.

“Mouse,” one of them finally gasped.

And sure enough, a little brown furry creature ran out the loose-fitting arm of her flowing shirt and jumped straight into the punch bowl. The other woman shook her arms so hard that they were nothing but a blur, and another mouse dropped out on the table and ran across the cookies and cupcakes.

Like a flying squirrel, the critter bailed off the table, all four legs stretched to the sides and its tail straight as a ramrod. It landed about waist level on Honey’s pretty red velvet dress, scurried upward, and came to rest on her head. She did a combination break dance and a series of clumsy acrobatic moves as she tried to swat the thing off her head without touching it.

In all the commotion of women screaming and men running to help poor Honey, someone grabbed the edge of the table holding the punch bowl with the first mouse doing laps around it and yanked. Coffee, hot chocolate, and punch went every which way, and the people who’d been trying to help Honey retreated to the back of the store.

Callie seriously considered climbing on the checkout counter, but one of the mice took off in that direction, so she made an abrupt turn and headed for the door. A kid who she recognized as Keith Gallagher brushed past her and made his way outside with the scrambling crowd. She watched him flee into the shadows between two cars and squat down. If he was the culprit in turning those mice loose in Gladys’s store, he should be grounded for eternity plus three days. She shivered, not from the cold as much as from the fact that those damned mice were so close to her feet. She would have fainted dead if one of them had run up inside her clothing.

“What the hell just happened in here?” Gladys yelled. “I don’t have mice in my store. The Gallaghers put someone up to this shit.”

“I saw one of their brats running out of the store,” Honey screamed. “I’ll tar and feather the little bastard if I catch him.”

Declan Brennan, bless his heart, attempted to salvage the rest of the party. He turned on the microphone and said, “Looks like there was a little mishap with the refreshments inside, but it’s time to light the Brennan family tree. We’d like to welcome everyone. We’ve done this for a hundred years right here in Burnt Boot, and we’re glad you could join us.” He picked up the plug and the long extension cord running electricity from the store and made a big show of connecting the two.

Callie was busy watching the kid in the shadows rather than the tree. He stood up and hurled what looked like a rolled newspaper toward the big fancy tree. The flame on the end sent her adrenaline into overload for a split second until she figured out it wasn’t a stick of dynamite, but a whole package of firecrackers. She covered her ears when they went off, and everyone hit the ground or ran toward their cars.

“What the hell?” Finn pulled both Callie and Martin close to his sides. “Where’s the shooter?”

“It’s firecrackers,” Callie yelled, but it sounded so much like machine-gun fire that her blood ran cold.

Gladys laid a hand on Callie’s shoulder. “I was afraid something like this would happen. War has been declared.”

“I guess everyone will go home now and the Gallaghers’ party will be a bust,” Callie said breathlessly.

“Oh no! We’ll all go see what the Brennans can come up with on the spur of the moment. Paybacks are hell,” Gladys said. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

“What about the mess in your store?”

“The Brennans will clean it up. Let’s go on over to the bar,” Gladys said.

“Lord, I thought we’d really gotten between the Hatfield and McCoy bunch there for a minute,” Callie said.

“I know,” Finn said. “It did sound like machine-gun fire when we were that close to it.”

“Would you look at that tree?” Callie quickly changed the subject. Too much talk about guns and Martin would have a nightmare for sure.

“Do you think they’ll have cookies, too?” Martin asked. “I never did get one, and I sure didn’t want one after that mouse ran all over them.”

Finn laid his hand over Callie’s on the console. “I imagine they’ll have something good to eat. They won’t let the Brennans outdo them.”

“He’ll remember the mice more than the firecrackers,” Finn said in a low voice as he gave Callie’s hand a gentle squeeze.

The tree out in front of the bar was a foot or so taller than the one in front of the store. It sported a star on top instead of an angel, and it had lots of garland that would probably be blown away by the north wind before a week was out. But right then it was as pretty as the Brennans’ tree.

The Gallaghers had set up a flatbed out in the middle of the pasture right beside the bar with upbeat holiday music coming through the big speakers. Several young folks were dancing to “Merry Christmas Baby,” performed as a duet by Elvis Presley and Gretchen Wilson.

“May I have this dance?” Finn asked when they were out of the truck. “Maybe if everyone sees us dancing, those two women will think we’re a couple.”

Callie looped her arms around his neck, and Finn executed some very fine two-stepping. “That’s not the way it works. They’ll just put me in their crosshairs to get rid of the competition.”

“Santa Claus,” Martin gasped.

“Where?” Callie turned quickly.

Martin pointed toward the bar. Two little boys ran out with paper sacks in their hands and there was a flash of a red suit before the door slammed shut. “Can we go inside now, Callie? I really need to talk to him.”

“Of course we can,” Finn answered. “Are you going to sit on Santa’s lap, Callie?”

“Only if he’s wearing cowboy boots and has blue eyes,” she flirted.

Santa Claus was set up at the end of the bar. Elves led folks of all ages through the candy cane–lined lane to sit on his knee and have their picture taken with him. Then, while other elves took them out another way to get a brown paper bag filled with fruit, nuts, and candy, a Gallagher with lots of computer savvy printed the picture and passed it off to an elf who took it to the guests.