Sullivan's Ridge: A Christmas Tale Page 2

  Did he hold her hand a moment longer than necessary? Did she blush just a tad when she glanced away from him? Perhaps. And she kept her gaze on the front porch when she asked him to “Please see to Maggie.”

  While he helped lift down the other woman—Maggie McFadden, as she introduced herself—he watched Miss Sullivan enter the house, a bit hesitantly. Maggie, in turn, lifted down the little boy, who Nick now saw shared his mother’s freckles and tousled hair. He welcomed Joshua—that was his name—and his mother to Sullivan’s Ridge, and helped Timmy carry the trunks up to the front porch. Red crossed from the barn, so Nick left Maggie and Joshua with Timmy and the big Irishman, and went inside to find Miss Sullivan.

  She was standing in the large parlor, in front of the fireplace, tears in her eyes. She was staring up at a painting above the mantel, an amateurish watercolor Nick knew she herself had painted of the ranch before leaving for St. Louis. He wondered if she cried for her father, her circumstances, or her lack of talent.

  When she noticed him enter, she swiftly wiped at her cheeks, and marshaled her emotions. She gave him a weak smile over one shoulder, and immediately swept into the next room, as if she hadn’t paused in her perusal of the house.

  Unfortunately, this room was Billy’s study, and it obviously had an even greater effect on her. Nick watched as she lost the battle with her ladylike posture, and her shoulders slumped. She crossed the room hesitantly, as if she expected her father to appear, and ran her fingers across the polished pine desk. She picked up a framed photo on the desktop, brushed her fingers across a leather portfolio of records, and took a deep breath.

  Without turning, she said, “It’s so good to be home. But I always imagined he’d be here with me.”

  Nick nodded. He wasn’t sure what else to say. How to offer condolences when he was aching just as much? How to tell her that he’d lost a father-figure as well?

  “Miss Sullivan…”

  “’Missus,’ actually.” She turned. Her comment derailed Nick’s train of thought, and his confusion must have showed. She had the good grace to blush as she deliberately peeled off first her right, then her left glove.

  There was a gold ring on the fourth finger on her left hand, and as she reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind one ear, it caught a glint of sunlight coming through the window. Nick couldn’t help but stare at it, and he knew his shock was obvious.

  She stuck out one hand, like a man. Dazedly, he shook it. “Constance Lane. Feel free to call me ‘Connie’, though.”

  “I.. Your father…”

  She quickly looked away, and then moved behind the desk, as if surveying her new territory. “Never approved of Daniel, I’m afraid. We’re newlyweds, so I can understand why Papa never mentioned it.” She wasn’t looking at him at all.

  Nick felt like he’d been kicked in the gut. She was married?

  How had Billy forgotten to mention that important detail? Even if he hadn’t liked this Daniel Lane fellow, Nick would’ve expected Billy to at least complain about him aloud. But no, he never once mentioned that his daughter had married! Even when he was dictating that last letter, even when he was explaining to Nick how he wanted the younger man to stay on at Sullivan’s Ridge and help Connie… he never once thought to mention that Connie already had a husband to help her.

  Nick felt almost…betrayed. He’d known and respected Billy for years; and finding out that the man had kept such an important fact a secret had stunned him. Not that it was a piece of information vital to the running of the ranch or anything; but when Nick remembered the long evenings they’d spent talking about anything and everything, he was hurt and disappointed to find out that Billy hadn’t trusted him with this little tidbit. His daughter’s marriage to a man he obviously disliked.

  Nick might have been disappointed, but he wasn’t at all surprised to find out such a gem like Connie Sulli—Lane had been snatched up. She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever met; he knew that she was also intelligent and accomplished. Her father had liked to brag about her ideas and her achievements; Nick knew that she’d had far more schooling than he himself had, and probably knew just as much about running this ranch. Combine that brain with her beauty, and she would have had men beating down her grandmother’s door to court her.

  Still, he watched her twisting that ring around her finger, staring at the spines of the books on the shelf beside her, and he felt another pang of disappointment. She deserved a man who would treat her like a queen, and Billy must have been pretty angry when she chose a man he didn’t like.

  Nick felt himself bristle at the thought of this Daniel Lane coming here to Sullivan’s Ridge and trying to run the ranch that had been Billy’s pride and joy. Billy hadn’t wanted his son-in-law involved, Nick was sure, or he’d have mentioned something in his letter or will. No, he’d wanted Connie to have the ranch, and now there was no one here to make sure Daniel Lane kept his greedy hands off it.

  Connie fiddled with her mother’s ring and looked everywhere but at Nick. In that second after she’d blurted out her lie, she’d seen the hurt in his eyes, and was feeling horrendously guilty over it. Was he hurt because she was married? Or because he thought her father hadn’t approved? Or was it wishful thinking that he might have been harboring some hope on his own behalf…?

  One thing about Nick Anderson; he wasn’t very good at hiding his emotions. Her father had been like that, wearing his heart on his sleeve. Neither man was weak, but they didn’t see any shame in letting others know what they were feeling.

  And right now, Nick was angry. She could see it in his eyes. Those remarkable eyes blazed, and she wasn’t sure why. He couldn’t possibly be angry that she was married, could he? Did he have plans she hadn’t known about? She wouldn’t put it past her father to have conspired with this handsome foreman.

  She sucked on her bottom lip in consternation, and dragged her eyes back to his when she heard his slight groan. He was staring at her mouth, and looked uncomfortable.

  She was in charge here, and her marital status wasn’t relevant. She shouldn’t be made to feel guilty over it. She squared her shoulders, concerned they’d gotten off on the wrong foot.

  “Please sit down, Mr. Anderson.” She settled into her father’s big chair, and he sat across from her, automatically saying only “Nick, please.”

  She nodded, and marshaled her thoughts. “Nick, I know things are going to change a bit, and I appreciate your being flexible. Now, I understand that you have a room in the bunkhouse? Are you satisfied with it?” She thought his nod was a little dazed. “Good. Then I think I’ll leave you and the men as they are—I’d like to meet them this afternoon, if possible—and Maggie and I will move in here. She and Joshua can have my room, and I suppose I’ll take my father’s. That will still leave the small room available for guests—I’m assuming Papa kept it as a bedroom? He hasn’t changed anything much, has he?”

  His response was a little slow, as if he was trying to figure out what she was talking about. “Ma’am, your father was a creature of habit. He didn’t change anything if he could help it.”

  She couldn’t help the fond smile that dashed across her lips. “Yes, that’s what I thought. Good, I’m glad things are still the way I remember, it’ll be easier to settle in.”

  “Ma’am?”

  “Please, call me Connie.” She’d been thinking about this. In order to maintain a professional relationship with her staff, it made sense to insist on an honorific. But she couldn’t bring herself to insist on a name that wasn’t her own. Besides, she was used to being called Connie—she insisted on it from almost everyone.

  “No ma’am. It’s not right, you being married.”

  “Oh, I don’t think David will mind.” His brows dipped in confusion, but she didn’t stop to wonder why. “Now, I understand that you’re used to cooking for my father?”

  Her father had been hopeless in the kitchen. When they’d first moved here, there’d been an adorable older woman, Mrs. Steinholt
z, who would drop food off for them every other day. Connie and her father had kept house well enough, but they relied on others to cook for them. By the time she’d left for St. Louis, they would eat dinner in town at the hotel more often than not. A few years after she left, Papa had hired Nick Anderson, a man who counted cooking among his many skills. Most cowboys could cook a few basic dishes, because they often had to rely on only themselves to survive. But to hear Papa tell it, Nick had surpassed even Mrs. Steinholtz.

  Nick seemed proud of his skill. “Yep. Billy seemed to like my dinners well enough. We’d eat late, but it was easier to just all eat together.”

  “Here in the dining room?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Red has his own house between here and town, but he’d eat with us more often than not. Timmy and Old Abe would rather eat with us than in the bunkhouse, because it can get lonely over there.”

  “Well, I don’t see any reason to change. Maggie has some skill in the cooking department, and since you’ll have more to do with my father gone, perhaps you’d like to consider turning dinner responsibilities over to her. I’m all thumbs in the kitchen, so I think it best for everyone if I just stayed away.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He was smirking slightly, and she narrowed her eyes, wondering if her father had told him some of the stories about her culinary disasters.

  “’Connie,’ please.”

  “Ma’am.”

  “Hmm.” She supposed that would have to do. It was probably better for everyone if this handsome foreman of hers maintained a bit of distance. Speaking of which, he hadn’t yet formally accepted the position.

  “Nick, my father spoke highly of you. And as you might know, he urged me to keep you on as foreman after he was gone. I realize that it’ll be a little odd, to continue the same job without Papa, but honestly, I’m not capable of leading the men in herding cattle. I need someone who knows them, who knows Sullivan’s Ridge, and who knows ranching. I need someone Papa trusted. I hope you’re planning on staying on.”

  Those blue-grey eyes were melancholy, but he smiled.

  Goodness. Her brows rose in surprise. That was quite a smile. He had dimples, and laugh-lines around his eyes. She felt herself growing warm, and quite unconsciously fanned her face with her left hand. My word. Had she thought him handsome before? It’s a good thing he insisted on some formality between them, to keep space, because if he smiled again, she wasn’t sure she could trust herself!

  “More than almost anything else in the world, I want to stay, ma’am. This is my home, and Billy was my friend. I helped him grow this place to the size it is now, and I put my heart and soul into it, almost as much as he did. I love Sullivan’s Ridge, and I’d be honored to stay on as the foreman.”

  Papa had been right. Nick Anderson was the best man to help run Sullivan’s Ridge. She was pleased he cared about this place so much; it meant that he was invested in its success. But she wanted to make sure he didn’t get his priorities confused.

  She leaned forward, placing her elbows on the desk in a position she’d often seen businessmen employ, but her grandmother would’ve hated. “Good. However, Nick, I need to set some things straight.” She looked him square in the eyes. “I might be a woman, but this is my home. I was raised here, and I know quite a lot about ranching. I will be running this ranch. I need you to pass that message on to Red and Timmy and Abe. I may be a woman, but I am not weak. If there’s any man among you who doesn’t feel like taking orders from a woman, or who thinks their way of doing things is better, they’re welcome to walk away. Or I can ask them to leave—politely, at first.”

  She leaned back, and just managed to control her self-satisfied grin at her implied threat. She was quite proud of herself, the way she must have intimidated Nick.

  Until she really looked at him. His face was carefully blank, as if he was biting his tongue, but she could see the laughter dancing in his eyes. Hmmm. Apparently she hadn’t impressed him at all. He was laughing at her!

  She raised a brow in challenge, and he gave her a small smile. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll be sure to let the men know that. I don’t think you’ll have any problem with them. Besides, they know that Mr. Lane will be arriving soon, I assume?”

  Shoot. He was more perceptive than she’d expected. “Oh, I don’t know exactly when Daniel will be arriving. He’s rather busy with his investing, you know. I’m sure he’ll be here when he’s able.” The laughter in his eyes had quickly turned to confusion, and Connie thought back over her sentence. No, it all made sense, hadn’t it?

  He opened his mouth hesitantly, but slowly shut it again. She smiled tightly. “Yes?”

  He floundered, and then recovered. “Do you want to meet with the men this afternoon?”

  “No, I think dinner will be soon enough. No need to upset schedules. By the way, did our arrival keep you from something important?”

  “No, Timmy and Old Abe are working on some posts that needed fixing. I thought I’d ride over when you were done with me and help them finish up. We’ll be done well before dinner.”

  “Excellent. I’ll send Maggie in to help you, then. She enjoys the work, so I hope you’ll let her help. Her breads are superb.” Her words sounded stilted and awkward to her own ears.

  He nodded. “Is there anything else, before I head out?”

  “No…Wait, yes!” Nick had stood up, and Connie rushed to stop him before he reached the door. “The Christmas decorations?

  He turned around, confused. “Decorations?”

  “My father’s decorations. For the tree, and for the house?” When he continued to stare, her heart skipped a beat. “Surely he told you where he stores them?”

  “Ma’am, I’ve never seen your father decorate for Christmas, ever. He wasn’t one to celebrate.”

  She knew that her mouth was hanging open in shock, and snapped it shut. Her grandmother would be horrified by such a display. But it was justified. Papa didn’t celebrate? That wasn’t true at all! Some of her fondest childhood memories were of them decorating for Christmas, together! Those decorations—handmade garlands, heirloom ornaments, and seasonal games—had been lugged from St. Louis the first time around. Some had been in Papa’s family for generations! Reverently unpacking them and greeting each old friend every year had been a highlight of her childhood, because it meant time spent with her father!

  Some of her distress must have shown, despite her attempts to marshal her emotions, because Nick volunteered, “Were they stored in trunks? I’ll poke around for you.” She nodded, distracted, and he offered a smile. “Don’t worry, ma’am, there’s still a week and a half left. If you say there’s a bunch of decorations around here, we’ll find them.”

  He placed his hat on his head, and pulled at the brim respectfully, like he’d done in the churchyard. But Connie was too upset to notice the way that sweet smile once again lit up his face.

  She was too busy thinking about her Papa. What had happened to their decorations?

  The fence posting wasn’t too difficult, and Nick found himself distracted by thoughts of Connie. Good God the woman was beautiful! But sneaky. She was up to something, and Nick didn’t know her well enough to know what. She was just too evasive, too embarrassed when he asked about her husband. And was it his imagination, or had she gotten his name confused? Was she married to a Daniel, or a David?

  He cut out early, and headed back to the barn to take care of his horse and clean up. He started dinner earlier than expected. The arrangement he’d had with Billy had been unusual; who ever heard of a ranch foreman who cooked? But it had started when it’d just been the two of them, and they set their own schedule. As they hired more men—first Red, who lived nearby on his own little plot of land, then Old Abe, and most recently Timmy—they just sort of adapted. By that point, Billy had been fond enough of his cooking for some reason, and Nick enjoyed the added responsibility of being second in command. Red occasionally ribbed Nick about it, but no one saw the need to hire a cook, when they could make do themselve
s.

  Anyhow, dinner was beef, cooked up with some potatoes and vegetables. Not Nick’s favorite, but filling enough, and easy with what was on hand. Maggie’s bread was what made the meal, really; the house had been wreathed in the delicious smell of baking rolls all afternoon.

  Connie had been right; she was an amazing cook. And a nice lady. Nick really enjoyed her sense of humor, and her ability to tell stories with perfectly-timed jokes. He heard all about their trip from St. Louis, and even chuckled out loud a few times.

  Her son joined them. The boy was cautious around strangers, but eventually warmed up to him. Nick supposed it hadn’t hurt that he’d peeled the boy an apple and arranged it just so on a fancy plate. Then his mother gave him some of the stew—Nick protested that it wasn’t done yet, but Maggie poo-pooed him—and a thick slice of the still-warm bread, smothered in jam. Poor little Joshua could hardly keep his eyes open. Nick knew they ate late on the ranch, so he told Maggie he’d finish setting the table, and she took her son up to bed.

  She came back downstairs with Connie, and Lord did she look fine tonight. She’d changed her gown; nothing that could be considered ‘formal’, but it sure was fancier than any of them were used to seeing. It was a dark blue, with little pearl buttons, and watching the way those little dots curved up her torso made Nick want to undo them all.

  And then he flushed with anger and made himself turn away. She wasn’t some available young miss! He had absolutely no right in the world to ogle her like that, to think those thoughts about her. Not only was she the daughter of his mentor and friend—who wasn’t around anymore to stand up for her!—but she was married. He wouldn’t sully Billy’s trust by taking advantage of his married daughter, no matter how lovely she was.

  And the thoughts he was thinking meant that just looking was ‘taking advantage’.