A Cowboy Christmas Miracle (Burnt Boot, Texas Book 4) (7 page)

“Is she okay?” Declan asked.

“They’re keeping her a few hours for observation, but everything looks fine. I’d call Rhett, but he’s over at Fiddle Creek with Sawyer, helping fix a tractor.”

“I’m also in town. I’ll swing by and pick you up,” he said.

“I’m in the maternity waiting room.”

“I’ll find it,” he said.

He asked for directions at the front desk and only got lost once on his way, but when he stepped inside, the first thing he saw was a flamboyant red ponytail and gorgeous green eyes looking up at him.

“What are you doing here?” Naomi Gallagher asked. “One of your girlfriends having a baby? I might have known you’d have little bastards all over the north part of Texas.”

He shot a sly wink toward Betsy and then turned to look Naomi right in the eye. “Two of them actually. Nice of them to go into labor the same night, wasn’t it?”

“Don’t you be smart with me,” Naomi said. “Why are you really here?”

Leah stepped out of the ladies’ room on the far side of the waiting area and smiled. “That was quick. I’ll go check on Callie one more time before we leave, if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. I’ll be right here. Tell her and Finn that if they need anything at all to give me a call,” Declan said.

The only empty seat was next to Betsy, so he eased into it. The chairs were locked together, leaving no space between them, so no matter how much he crunched his wide shoulder, it still touched Betsy’s. Naomi glared at him, but if she’d had horns and a pitchfork, he couldn’t make his shoulders smaller.

“So who are you here to see?” he asked.

“Angela is having a baby boy.” Betsy’s voice sounded thin and strained.

“Well, you will probably be here all night. I’m just here to give Leah a ride home, since Verdie made her drive.”

“Why didn’t Finn drive?” Naomi asked.

“Callie slipped and fell. Verdie was afraid it would hurt the baby, so she made Leah drive her to the hospital with Finn in the backseat with Callie,” he explained.

Naomi continued to stare at him as if he were a cockroach under a microscope.

“Callie’s tough. She’ll be all right,” she said.

“I hope so. She and Finn are pretty excited about another baby, and their other children are counting the days,” Declan said. “I see Leah on her way, so you ladies have a good evening, and I do hope everything goes well for Angela.”

He escaped before Naomi could say another word. Leah looped her arm through his, and together they headed out of the hospital.

Leah kept glancing over her shoulder all the way to the hospital parking lot. “I keep expecting to see a Gallagher behind us. In my mind, they’ve got sawed-off shotguns shoved down the legs of their pants.”

“Hey, they’re interested in the new baby, not us. Callie okay?”

“Doctor says that she’s fine, but as a precaution, they’ll keep her hooked up to the baby monitor thing for another few hours. She should get home by midnight, and the doc’s saying she should have bed rest for a couple of days—at least through the weekend. Verdie will see to it that she obeys,” Betsy said.

Declan opened the door for her. “They’re good for each other out there on Salt Draw.”

“Funny how things work out, isn’t it?”

Declan drove out of the parking lot and onto the highway, made a few turns, and was on the way back to Burnt Boot in a few minutes. “Do you believe in fate, Leah?”

“Yes, I do,” Leah said.

“Really?”

“If I didn’t before, I would now. Sorry to leave you in that rattlesnake den back there. Confession time: I didn’t need to be in the bathroom, but I couldn’t stand all those Gallaghers giving me dirty looks, so I hid out until I heard your voice.” She giggled nervously.

“All those Gallaghers? I only saw Betsy and the grand matriarch, Naomi.”

“Did you have on blinders? There were at least a dozen in there.”

“Guess I did,” he chuckled.

On the way home, he worried about Betsy and then scolded himself silently for feeling that way. She was a bet, for God’s sake, not a date. He’d win the money from her by gathering more Christmas stuff and give it to Tanner to pay off his debt, since he had no intentions of sleeping with her. Heaven help Texas if that happened. One kiss came close to sending the movie theater up in blazes. Sex would burn down the state.

Two wild folks like Declan Brennan and Betsy Gallagher did not belong together. Besides, she wasn’t his type. He liked short, blond-haired women with big, blue eyes and sweet dispositions. Someone who made him feel like he was macho and who needed him to protect her. He sure didn’t need a woman who could scare the horns off Lucifer.

“What are you thinking about? It looks like you are arguing with yourself.” Leah laid a hand on his arm.

“You know me too well, Sis. I’ve got a little deal going but it has to be a secret. You can tell Rhett because I wouldn’t want you to keep things from him but…”

Leah sighed. “You’ve fallen in love.”

“Oh, no!” he said too quickly.

“Methinks the man is protesting too loudly,” she said.

“No, it’s the truth. Why settle with one piece of sea foam fudge when there’s a whole candy shop at your disposal? I can’t tell you why, but I’m gathering up used or new or anywhere-in-between things that have to do with Christmas. You want to donate something?”

“Sure.” She nodded.

“That was quick. You didn’t even make me beg.”

“Well, I am a schoolteacher, and we always have tons of stuff that we store from year to year. I was going through my school things the other day and ran across three plastic door covers. Anyway, I only need one door cover, and I’m using the life-size Santa Claus this year, so you can have the two others. One is a nativity and the other is a skyline view of Bethlehem with the Star of David in the sky. And you will tell me later why you want this, right?”

“You’ll know before Christmas,” he said.

“I’ll bring them to you on Monday or you can pick them up at the school. Want me to ask the other teachers if they’ve got anything?”

He grinned. “That would be wonderful.”

* * *

The baby was born at one minute after midnight, and the first person Angela asked for was Betsy. Jody brought the red-haired baby boy out to show the family and then the nurse whisked him away for skin-on-skin bonding time with Angela.

Betsy peeked inside the window of the labor-and-delivery room before she stepped over the threshold. Jody was sitting beside Angela, and the baby was cuddled up next to his mama’s bare skin, both of them wrapped snugly in a blue blanket. Betsy’s eyes misted as she waited in envy for one of them to motion her inside.

Angela saw her first and her smile was probably every bit as beautiful as Mary’s was the day that Jesus was born. “Come in and meet Christian. He has your red hair, and he’s going to be a perfect baby Jesus at the program this year.”

“Now, darlin’—” Jody started.

“Yes, he will,” Betsy said as she crossed the room. “He’s beautiful. Looks like Jody, doesn’t he? Only with red hair.”

“I thought so,” Angela said.

“And how are you?” Betsy asked.

“Fine. I took the drugs and it was a breeze. I may have another one next year,” Angela said.

“It might not be the time to bring it up, but I’m working on something that could help the cause in the long run. It’s a secret so you can’t tell a single soul that you donated anything, but would you be willing to give something with a Christmas theme to my secret cause?”

Angela nodded seriously. “I want to give a tree topper. My granny crocheted an angel for my mama’s tree years ago. We were going through what we had for decorations when I went into labor and I saw it there. They’ll probably let me go home tomorrow, so come on by the house and pick it up anytime. And neither one of us will tell. I want this program to happen so badly, so my Christian can be baby Jesus, I’d keep a secret from God if I had to.”

The Gallaghers waited an extra hour for the baby to go to the nursery, where they could see him through the glass and exclaim about his red hair. According to Naomi, he was the first red-haired child to be born into the family since Betsy, and that made him very special.

“And now I’m ready to go have breakfast at the all-night waffle house and go home,” Naomi said. “I’m not good at waiting. You won’t make me sit in an uncomfortable chair when you have your babies. You’ll have them like I did. One hour in the hospital and the baby will be here.”

“You sure about that?”

“Positive.”

Betsy shook her head slowly. “Why didn’t you make that decree for Angela?”

“She’s not a Gallagher. She only married into the family,” Naomi said.

“Granny!”

“I’m hungry and I’m tired and I’m cranky. Let’s go,” Naomi said crossly.

“Aren’t you going to stop in and see Angela and Jody?” Betsy asked as they headed down the hallway.

“Already did. I slipped in after you left. Never heard of them putting the baby up on the mama like that. They sure do things different nowadays. When you was born, they took you straight to the nursery and your mama didn’t see you until you had a diaper and a little shirt on your scrawny body. You only weighed five pounds, so you looked more like a red-haired monkey than a baby.”

“Well, thank you so much for that. If I’d known you were going to insult me, I would have let you ride home with someone else,” Betsy said.

“Don’t threaten me, young lady. And while we’re arguing, I saw the way you looked at that Declan Brennan. Don’t think your glances his way got past me.”

“I’m going to call him to come over to Wild Horse for a booty call soon as I get you home.”

Naomi slapped her on the arm. “That’s not a joking matter. Go get the truck and pick me up at the door. I don’t feel like walking all that way.”

When Betsy drove up, Naomi crawled inside the passenger side. When her grandmother was mad, she puffed up and always reminded Betsy more of a bullfrog than a bulldog, but both had the word
bull
in them, and that part was right because Naomi was definitely
bullheaded
! Her chin tucked down into the layers that made up her neck. Her shoulders hunched forward, and air seemed to inflate her whole body into a round ball, with skinny arms and legs protruding at strange angles.

“Declan has always been a good-looking cowboy, and that’s why women flock to him like flies on honey,” Naomi finally said.

Traffic was almost nonexistent at that time of night, so Betsy pulled out onto the highway and headed toward the waffle house. “No argument here.”

“I don’t like it when you give him that once-over that says you like what you see.”

Betsy’s shoulder raised an inch. “I love to look at all the Christmas ornaments in the stores this time of year. It doesn’t mean I’m going to buy them all.”

Naomi sighed, and the bullfrog disappeared. “But you might buy one, right? And when you get it home, it might be the wrong one.”

“Or it might be the one that I’ll put on my tree for the next fifty years. Stop worrying, Granny. Just because Leah Brennan moved away from River Bend doesn’t mean you’re going to lose me.” Betsy reached across the console and patted Naomi’s hand.

“I feel a change in the air, and I hate change,” Naomi said.

“Everything changes, and the more they change, the more they stay the same.”

“That sounds like a load of philosophical bull. Forget the waffle house. I want to go home and have a shot of Jameson and go straight to bed.”

“Sounds good to me.” Betsy took the next exit, made a loop, and caught the highway north toward Burnt Boot.

The heart might want what the heart wants, but sometimes it has to be trained to want something else. Betsy’s heart was about to get its first lesson in cross-training and learn to forget that steamy kiss she’d shared with Declan. For the past forty-eight hours, she’d pined for him, but now she realized it was nothing more than a game. Even the Christmas decorations were a competition, and everything else most likely had something to do with the feud. The Brennans were trying to stir up trouble in the Gallagher court so Mavis could one-up Naomi at Christmas.

The Brennans, including Declan, were not to be trusted.

It was time to suck it up and stop letting her heart lead her around by her hormones. And there wasn’t a better night to get the job done than a Saturday night at the Burnt Boot bar. One single shot of Jameson was all she would have, so her grandmother wouldn’t fuss. The place would be hopping with cowboys, so her plan was simple: dance with a dozen or more good-lookin’ guys and take the one that made her forget all about Declan home for the night. Sneaking a one-night stand in and out of the big house right under her grandmother’s nose held enough danger and excitement, even for Betsy.

She turned around slowly in front of the floor-length mirror. Rhinestones created the outline of a cowboy hat and boots on the back of her shirt. She’d tucked it in to show off the blinged-out pockets on her designer jeans as well as the belt that sparkled even more than the shirt and jeans. Makeup was perfect, hair down and curled, and expensive perfume settled on her like a fine mist.

She repeated her mother’s words. “Spray it in the air and walk through it.”

And you should be going to dinner with her and your dad, rather than trying to find a one-night stand
—the voice in her head belonged to Tanner.

“If you knew what was really going on, you’d be out there hunting down a stranger for me, Tanner Gallagher,” she mumbled. “I’m going to Sunday dinner at home tomorrow, and I promise not to have a hangover, so hush. Mama and Daddy would both be willing to kill their firstborn to keep them from hooking up with a Brennan, and since I’m the firstborn, I need to get him out of my mind.”

She grabbed a fancy denim duster, picked up her hat, and made it out of the big house without Naomi catching her in the foyer. Tanner’s voice in her head had gone silent. Those were both good signs, weren’t they?

The two-foot layer of smoke hugging the ceiling of the bar was so heavy that the ceiling fan didn’t do anything but stir it a bit. Blake Shelton was belting out “Goodbye Time” from the jukebox. All of the lyrics didn’t relate to Betsy’s situation, but the one where he sang that it was good-bye time sounded loud and clear in her heart.

She slid into the only empty bar stool, pointed to the Jameson, and held up one finger. Rosalie set a red plastic cup in front of her and generously poured more than two fingers, wiped the moisture from a longneck bottle of beer, and put it on the bar.

“You know me too well, but no beer tonight. Just a shot of Mr. Jameson to warm me up.” Betsy smiled.

“I know when you’re all dressed up like that you are on the prowl, and I haven’t seen a cowboy in here tonight that will take your eye without twice that much whiskey and two or three beers in your gut. Pickin’s are slim, darlin’, unless you want to take a peek at the Brennan table. That Declan would give a holy woman a case of hot flashes.” Rosalie smiled.

Betsy sipped the whiskey, letting the warmth slide down her throat. It didn’t create the fire that Declan’s kiss had, but the night was young.

“I came to dance,” she said.

“Vertically or horizontally?”

“Depends on who wins.”

“Who’s in the fight?” Rosalie asked.

“Heart and mind.”

“You might want to rethink that one-shot idea. That’s a tough fight. You know what they say about the heart, right?”

A blast of cold air brought four cowboys into the bar and let a little of the smoke escape at the same time. A tall, dark one with brown eyes, scuffed boots, and a sexy swagger took her eye. He hung his hat and denim jacket on an empty hook and slung a bar towel over his shoulder.

“Looks like you really do need some help, Miz Rosalie,” he said.

“Betsy, I’d like to introduce my son-in-law, Bart. Married to my oldest daughter. He’s going to run the bar tonight and let me do the cookin’.” Rosalie grinned.

“Just my luck,” Betsy said.

“What was that?” Bart asked.

“Pleased to meet you,” she said over the top of the fast song on the jukebox.

She slid a couple of bills toward him. “I’m paying for a double shot of Jameson.”

“Thanks,” Bart said.

She hopped down from the bar stool, picked up her red cup, and headed back to where several Gallaghers had claimed a table. Tanner pointed to an empty chair, but a cowboy caught her on the way, wrapped his hands around her waist, and started swaying to an old song called “Country Bumpkin.”

“I’ll be your country bumpkin, darlin’, for tonight or forever. God, you’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever laid my eyes on. My name is Jimmy Ray, and I hail from over the river up in Grandfield, Oklahoma. Go home with me and I’ll be the luckiest man on the earth.”

She nodded toward Tanner and her cousins. “Nice to meet you, Jimmy Ray from Grandfield. My family is waiting for me.”

“You are Betsy Gallagher? I heard you was the prettiest thing this side of the Red River, but they was lyin’. You are the most gorgeous woman in the whole state,” Jimmy Ray stuttered.

“Thanks for the compliments.”

“Here, let me carry your drink to the table and, Miz Betsy, may I have this dance? They’re playin’ our song.”

Left standing in the middle of the crowded dance floor, she scanned the room for the Brennan table. Sure enough, there was Declan, sitting with his back to the wall. Her chest tightened. Declan was dressed in all black that night: black jeans that hugged his thighs, shined black boots, and a black shirt with white pearl snaps glowing in the semidarkness. His sandy hair was feathered back, but one sexy, little strand had fallen down on his forehead. Her mouth went dry when he winked slyly. Her heart fluttered, letting her know that it hadn’t thrown in the towel just yet and that the battle with it and common sense was not over by any means.

Time stood still and even though it was seconds before Jimmy Ray returned, it felt like she and Declan had lived a whole lifetime in those moments. Then suddenly, Jimmy Ray, with his dark-brown hair worn a little too long, green eyes, and cute little goatee, had her in his arms, and they were swing dancing to “Honky Tonk Christmas.”

“How did this get to be our song?” She smiled up at him.

“I came here to get over a woman who left me last spring, just like this song says, and you’re going to put her out of my mind. We’re in a honky-tonk and it’s talkin’ about playin’ Christmas records on the jukebox in an old honky-tonk. You are my lucky charm,” he said.

“But what if you aren’t my charm?” she asked.

“That’s up to you to decide, but if you give me a chance, darlin’, I can charm you seven ways to Sunday,” Jimmy Ray said.

“I’ll think about it,” she said.

“One more dance, then. This could be our song too.”

“How do you know that?”

“I’m the one who loaded the jukebox, and this is the last song I plugged in, so it’s my lucky song.” George Strait’s voice came through loud and clear as he sang “When It’s Christmas Time in Texas.”

Jimmy Ray swung her out, lost grip of her hand, and suddenly, another cowboy grabbed it and brought her to his chest.

“Hello, Miz Betsy,” Declan said.

Her hand tingled, her pulse raced, jitters danced around in her stomach, and she couldn’t take her eyes off his lips.

“You are gorgeous tonight. See you later.”

He twirled her out, and she landed back in Jimmy Ray’s arms. The flutters stopped as suddenly as they’d begun.

“One for the heart. Zero for the mind,” she said.

“What was that?” Jimmy Ray asked.

“I’m thirsty. After this one, I’m sitting out a couple.”

“Then I’ll work on making you jealous by dancing with a few more women, but, honey, I swear you’ve got the winning ticket. You just tap me on the shoulder and I’ll follow you anywhere.”

“How long you been practicing that line?”

“Five years. Since my first date, when I was a sophomore in high school.”

Sweet Jesus! The kid was barely old enough to drink.

She laughed. “Well, you keep practicin’ a few more years, honey, and I bet it works for you someday but not this one. You have yourself a good night and good luck.”

His hand went over his heart and he shut his eyes. “And I didn’t even get a kiss. Couldn’t I just have one kiss for all the leather I’ve danced off my boots?”

Betsy shook her head. “No, sir. Not even one kiss.”

He leaned forward. “But when you walked in the door, I bet all my friends over there at that table I could get a dance with you and a kiss before I left the dance floor.”

“Pay ’em up, sweetheart. And don’t ever make a bet that relies on anything from a redheaded woman. We’re meaner than a den of hungry rattlesnakes.” She pinched his cheek and tousled his hair. “You are cute, but you were still playing in a sandbox when I went off to college.”

“Age is just numbers on paper,” he argued.

“Nice try, Jimmy Ray. Enjoy your Saturday night.” She turned around, took two steps, and sat down in the chair beside Tanner.

Eli handed him five dollars.

“What’s that all about?”

“Kid told us he had a bet going with his friends. Crazy fools thought you’d feel sorry for him and kiss him. I know you better.” Tanner chuckled.

She whipped the bill from his hand and tucked it into her pocket. “Don’t ever use me to make money on a bet, Cousin, or it will come back and bite you square on the butt.”

* * *

A drummer without a sense of rhythm was beating out a rock tune in Declan’s head when he awoke on Sunday morning. The mother of all hangovers reminded him of why he should not chase every shot of Jack Daniels with a bottle of beer. He inched his hand across the sheets before he even opened his eyes. He didn’t remember leaving Burnt Boot Bar and Grill with a woman, but it could have happened.

The coast was clear, so he opened one eye, expecting to be in a motel either in Gainesville or across the Red River at the casino hotel if he’d really been wiped out.

He sat up so quick that the room did a triple spin right along with his stomach. “Thank God!” he mumbled when he realized he was in his own bed, right there on Wild Horse.

“I’m a lucky man,” he said as he reached for his jeans and checked his wallet to make sure all the credit cards and money were still there.

“Yes, you are.” His father, Russell, poked his head in the door. “I heard you staggering up the steps last night. Let you sleep until the chores were done, but now it’s time to get ready for church or explain to your grandmother why you aren’t going.”

“Tell her I have a headache. It’s not a lie.”

“There’re bananas on the buffet, and eggs. Don’t forget to take three aspirin with you.” Russell leaned against the doorjamb. “What’s her name?”

“Who?”

“Whatever woman has you this messed up.”

“No one. I’m fine. I’ll be down soon as I get a shower and brush my teeth.”

Russell chuckled. “A woman is the only thing that would make you stagger and come home singing something about the more you drink.”

Declan held his head in his hands. “Blake Shelton. It’s all his fault.”

“The country singer? Was he at the bar last night?”

“Only on the jukebox. I didn’t intend to drink a drop. I just went for a good time. And then…well, then I got frustrated and started doing shots with beer backs.”

Russell shook his head. “I’m just glad there’s not a big brunette in your bed.”

“So you’ve heard the song?”

“Yep, but Blake does a better job of it than you do. Who brought you home?”

“I drove myself. Real slow, with Quaid driving right behind me. He offered to help me in the house, but I didn’t think I was that drunk,” Declan said.

“Well, Son, it’s time to get downstairs to breakfast, or else your grandmother will be up here fussin’ at you for the way your eyes look,” Russell said as he closed the door.

“Banana and then eggs and three aspirin,” Declan recited his father’s remedy for a hangover. Just thinking about eating a banana turned his stomach, but it had worked in the past, and he had confidence that by the time the preacher got wound up in the Sunday morning service, his headache would be gone. Maybe when the headache was gone, it would take the heartache with it.

Dream on, big brother
, Leah’s voice said loud and clearly in his head.

“This bet is going to kill me,” he said as he stood under the shower. “I should have listened to Quaid—both at the poker game and last night when he told me it was time to stop drinking.”

* * *

Betsy was wedged between Tanner and her grandmother that morning in church. She’d picked out a cowboy old enough to take home when the bar shut down, but when they got to the parking lot and he laughed at her pink truck, it was like ice water had been poured on the whole thing. She’d sent him packing without even kiss.

Now she was cranky and wished she had someone to talk to about this whole mess. Tanner had always been her person, the cousin who was more like a brother that she’d talked everything out with, from boyfriends to which bull to buy for her own private herd. But she couldn’t say a word to him or he’d find a way to kill Declan Brennan. The choir sang a song about putting your problems in a basket and taking them to Jesus. Betsy didn’t have a basket, and besides, she’d learned from past experiences that it took too long for answers to come back from heaven.

She stole a glance across the middle section, where the O’Donnell families were all lined up on three different pews. Betsy’s eyes kept wandering until she spotted Declan on the far side of the church. Every time Honey Brennan hit a high note in the choir, Declan shivered. So he had a hangover. Well, praise the Lord and let Honey sing louder. He was suffering too, even if his was physical and her pain was down deep in her heart.