Christmas With the Mustang Man (13 page)

Boone awkwardly cleared his throat. “It would have to be very soon. Dallas will be leaving in the next two or three days.”

“Oh.” The priest appeared disappointed by the news, but when he turned back to Dallas, he bestowed her with a gentle reassuring smile that made her wonder if he could sense the turmoil that was beginning to build in her heart. “Just remember, Ms. Donovan, a road always travels both ways.”

“Thank you, Father. I'll remember.”

Inside the church, they found a seat on one of the long wooden pews. As Dallas settled next to him, he could only imagine what was going through Father O'Quinn's mind. For more years than Boone wanted to think about, the man had been urging him to remarry and build a family. No doubt, he'd clearly seen Dallas as wife material for Boone. But then, Father Aiden O'Quinn believed in miracles. And that's just what it would take for Dallas to ever become Mrs. Boone Barnett, he thought dismally.

 

The Christmas program, made up of a cast of children only, turned out to be a beautiful spectacle with the manger scene surrounded by real animals. When Hayley and three more winged angels appeared to sing joyful hymns, Boone had been filled with immense pride and love for his daughter. He'd also felt something more—something deep and bittersweet—as Dallas had momentarily reached over and covered his hand with hers as though she'd wanted to share the special moment with him.

Now, as they drove home in the quiet night, Boone realized he was treading on dangerous ground. He didn't know when or how it had happened, but at some point he'd stopped thinking of Dallas as a guest, as a horse
buyer and nothing more. He could only think of her as a beautiful, desirable woman. A woman who made his daughter happy, and a woman who filled up the loneliness in his heart.

“I think Hayley has fallen asleep,” Dallas remarked as the lights of the ranch house finally came into view.

“No. I'm not asleep.” The girl sat up on the edge of the seat and yawned. “But I'm pretty tired. I didn't know acting was so exhausting.”

“You weren't acting,” Boone corrected. “You were singing.”

“Well, I was acting like I could sing,” the girl countered.

“You sounded beautiful,” Dallas assured her. “I heard all the high notes.”

Boone parked the truck at the back of the house and as they started toward the porch, Queenie ran up to greet them, then trotted along at Dallas's side as though she'd lived there for years rather than days.

Damned dog, Boone thought. She wasn't any smarter than he was.

When they entered the kitchen, Hayley yawned again and quickly excused herself for bed. But before she got halfway out of the room, she turned and rushed back to Dallas.

Boone stood awkwardly to one side as his daughter flung her arms around Dallas's waist and hugged her tightly.

“Thank you coming to see the play, Dallas. It felt really nice to know you were watching,” she said.

Dallas bent her head and kissed the top of Hayley's head. “It felt really nice to be there,” she assured the girl.

Hayley smiled up at her, then quickly left the room.
Once the girl was out of sight, Boone let out a long breath.

“I want to thank you, too,” he said lowly. “For making a special effort to be kind to my daughter.”

Dallas shook her head and for the hundredth or more time tonight, he could only think how beautiful and feminine she looked in her long skirt and with her hair coiled up on her head. The diamonds dangling from her ears glittered like real gems and he realized they most likely were. The expensive jewelry was a reminder that she lived more than a thousand miles away from him. She lived a world away from him.

“I didn't have to make any effort. Hayley is easy to love.”

Easy to love.
At one time in his life Boone had found it easy to love people. But that had all changed as, one by one, he'd lost those that he'd cared about the most. For years now he'd done his best to keep his heart shut tight toward anything or anyone, except for Hayley. His love for his daughter would never change. Then there were the horses, so wild and frightened at first and then so trusting and giving once they'd bonded with him. He kept more of them than he should, simply because it hurt too much to see them leave.

Now there was Dallas. And with each minute that ticked away he was beginning to feel the pain of loss looming ahead of him. He didn't want to like her, want or need her. And he damned well didn't want to love her. But something about her was turning him into a softhearted fool.

“That's nice of you to say,” he said huskily, then cleared his throat, stepped around her and walked over to the cabinets. “I think I'll have a cup of coffee before I go to bed. Want one?”

“Sure. I'll find some cookies or something to go with it.”

A few short minutes later Boone carried a tray with their drinks and snacks to the family room. While he placed the refreshments on the coffee table in front of the couch, Dallas plugged in the lights on the Christmas tree.

“We might as well enjoy the lights while we drink our coffee,” Dallas said as she sank down on the couch, a cushion away from his.

He looked over at the decorated pine as mixed emotions rolled through him. “There hasn't been a Christmas tree in this house since my mother was alive,” he admitted.

“Yes. Hayley told me.”

He grimaced as he reached for a cookie. “She wasn't the best of mothers. But she tried in her own way. I miss her.”

“I'm sure you do,” she murmured, then asked, “Do you mind telling me what she was like?”

He shrugged. “She was one of those free-spirited types. A carryover, you might say, from the flower child era of the sixties. The only thing that anchored her was Newt, which never made sense. There's not a solid, dependable cell in my father's body. But she loved him blindly and in spite of his problems with alcohol.”

He could feel her green eyes studying him thoughtfully and their touch disturbed him. “Is that why you don't get along with the man? Because of his drinking?”

“Mainly. But mostly because he shunned his responsibility as a father.”

“So you think he never loved you.”

Boone let out a cynical grunt. “I'm not sure if Newt is capable of loving anyone but himself.” Turning his head, he locked his gaze with hers. “By the time I was five,
my grandparents could see that I wasn't being raised in a normal family atmosphere and they literally took me out of my parents' house and into theirs.”

“You think that was the right thing for them to do?”

Her question had him looking at her with amazement. “Right? Hell, I'm glad someone stepped up to care for me. Half the time we had no electricity in the house because Newt didn't work enough to pay the bill. I remember having meals of nothing but jelly beans and potato chips. And in winter the house would be so cold my mother would constantly cough.”

With a rueful shake of her head, she half whispered, “I can't imagine you living as a child in those conditions, Boone. And I guess I don't understand, either. Why did Newt not try to do better?”

His gaze dropped to the steaming brown liquid in his cup. “Who knows why anyone turns worthless? But I think he wasn't always that way. From what I've gathered, my father and grandfather got into it when Newt was a teenager and they still lived in Arizona. He wanted the family to stay there, where Burt, my grandfather, made good money as a miner. He balked at the idea of his parents getting a ranch out in the middle of nowhere in Nevada.”

“I remember you saying that your father didn't care for ranching. I take it that didn't change over the years.”

Grimacing, he sipped his coffee. “No. Newt left home as soon as he was legally able, but he didn't move back to Arizona. He married Elsa and they lived in Reno until I was born, then they showed up in Pioche. Because they needed money, or so my grandparents told me.”

“Did they give it to him?” Dallas asked, then shook her head. “I'm sorry. I keep asking you these personal
questions. You don't have to tell me if it bothers you to talk about it.”

He let out a cynical grunt. “What difference does it make now? You've already heard my family's dirty laundry. And to answer your question, yes, they made the mistake of giving him money—because of me. They wanted me cared for. But in the end they could see that their son was using me and them. So they took charge of me and cut off Newt from any financial aid.”

“Any way you look at it…well, it must have been an awful situation,” Dallas remarked.

He sighed. “Yeah. And when my grandparents were killed Newt was right there demanding the will be read and his part dished out to him. He threw a hell of a fit when he learned he had no part. Burt and Elsa had cut him out completely and willed everything to me.”

Disbelief parted her lips. “Oh, my. I'll bet that has caused some problems between the two of you.”

“I was fifteen at the time, so the ranch wasn't legally handed over to me until I was twenty-one. Before the transfer happened Newt did his best to persuade me to sell this place and give him part of the money.”

“Hmm. Why did he think he deserved it?”

Boone tried to chuckle but the sound was more like a sickened gag. “He's always moaned about sacrificing everything he'd ever wanted when he had to leave Arizona. I'm not exactly sure what it was that he wanted so much—but he claims the move ruined his life. Anyway, Newt believed that gave him a right to inherit something.”

“But obviously you didn't want to sell.”

“Not on your life,” he muttered. “My grandparents worked their rears off to make this place go. It was their life. And I've made it mine, too.”

“Yes. I can see that.”

His gaze swept back to her face. “You think that's a crime or something?”

A wan smile tilted her lips as she shook her head. “Not at all. I just meant that I can see where your devotion lies.”

He let out a heavy breath, then shook his head. “Maybe I seem greedy to you, Dallas. After all, there's a lot of land with this ranch. I could sell part of it and give the money to Newt. But what would that accomplish? He'd simply drink it away and kill himself more quickly in the process. I can't see that being a smart move on my part.”

Her gaze fell to her lap. “No,” she said with a sigh, “that wouldn't be smart at all. I just wish—” She glanced up at him. “There was some way you two could patch up your differences. Do you visit with him at all?”

He placed his mug back on the tray. “Funny, isn't it, you'd think I'd find it easy to completely turn my back on him. But I can't. Whenever I drive into town, I usually drop by to check in on him. I tell myself I'm doing it for my mother. But deep down, I guess there's a part of me that wishes someday I'll walk in and find him a changed man.”

A gentle smile tilted her lips and Boone's gaze automatically zeroed in on them just as they had for most of the night. The taste of her, the feel of her, was haunting his senses and all he wanted to do was pull her into his arms and let himself forget every word, every wall that stood between them.

“Change is hard for some people. And Newt probably believes he can't be any other way than what he is. Does he have anything to do with Hayley?”

“I won't let her go around him unless he's been off
the hooch for a day or two. So that's not very often. She loves him simply because he's her grandfather and about the only other relative, other than me, that she has. But I… It doesn't come that easy for me.”

His restless thoughts pushed him to his feet and without thinking he walked over to the twinkling Christmas tree. The sight of it warmed him. Or was it Dallas's presence making everything seem special?

He looked over his shoulder at her and as he did, the telephone sitting near her elbow caught his eye. Since lunch, he'd not bothered to check his messages. For all he knew, horse clients were waiting on a return call from him.

“Did you check the answering machine this evening before we left for town?” he asked as he strode back over to where she sat.

“Why, no. I wouldn't feel right listening to your personal messages,” she told him.

“I never receive a message that personal,” he assured her, then punched the play button on the machine.

Three messages had been left. The first one by a woman looking to purchase a buckskin mare. The second was Marti, informing Dallas that the part for her truck had arrived, but the company had shipped him the wrong one. He'd ordered another pump and expected it to arrive tomorrow afternoon. The third call was from Dallas's sister-in-law, Lass.

“Hi, Dallas! Did Fiona give you the news about the babies? Brady is over the moon—especially with Johnny and Bridget expecting at the same time!”
She giggled, then said,
“Grandmother Kate says if this keeps up, she's moving out to the horse barn. But all joking aside, things are great here. All the kids rode yesterday and I remembered to put Peter on Tumbleweed. We're getting ready
for the employee party tomorrow night. I hope you can be home by then. Gosh, I miss you so much! Love you, Dallas. Bye.”

The recorder clicked off and Boone looked down to see Dallas wiping fingers beneath her eyes. The display of emotion not only surprised him, but it also stabbed him right in the middle of his chest.

“Dallas, are you crying?”

She sniffed and did her best to offer him a wobbly smile. “I'm sorry, Boone. I don't usually sprout waterworks. And I understand they grate on a man.” She drew in a deep breath and let it out. “It's just that hearing Lass's voice…got to me.”

Moving around the coffee table, he sank down on the cushion next to her and reached for her hand. “You're homesick.”

“Maybe a little,” she conceded, then looked almost apologetic. “But I'm enjoying my time here, Boone. Please don't think that I'm not. This day has been wonderful. Getting the tree this morning. Our dinner and the play tonight. I'll never forget any of it,” she added huskily.