Page 33 of Christmas with Three Cowboys

“Doesn’t matter. What matters is you should try again.”

“Didn’t you just hear me earlier? I did say we should go to a honky-tonk together.”

“You don’t take your future wife to a honky-tonk, Sammy. Dinner and a movie. Or dinner and drinks. Somewhere nice and fancy. There’s a new place on 7th Street in Long Pine. An Italian restaurant. Why don’t you try that?”

Sammy shakes his head. “It’s not my style.”

“It’s Darla’s,” Melissa gently chimes in. “She loves Italian food. She actually said she’d love to try that place…”

“My Lord, my relationship with Darla is the talk of the entire ranch, ain’t it?” Sammy gasps, giving Melissa a troubled frown.

“What relationship?” I say and laugh again.

He curses under his breath and gets up from the table. “I’ll take care of that fence today,” he says, then looks at Melissa. “Save me a lunch plate, will ya’, darlin’? I’m not sure when I’ll be back, but I saw that turkey in the fridge, and I know you make a mean cranberry sauce.”

“Sure thing, Sammy,” Melissa promises with a little smile.

Minutes pass in a sweet but awkward kind of silence while she finishes cleaning the worktable in the kitchen and I scarf down the rest of my plate before she clears the table and brews her coffee. I watch her, quietly admiring her curves beneath those jeans—high-waisted and held up with a wide leather belt. Shelooks good in green plaid. She’s starting to look more and more like one of us with each passing day, although her Latin American heritage gives her a particular charm. It makes her more of a rare gem in these parts.

“Their story goes way back, huh?” Melissa asks, joining me at the breakfast table with her steaming mug.

Again, I’m mesmerized as she lifts the mug to her lips and takes a long, cautious sip, her facial muscles instantly relaxing as the drink works its magic on her taste buds.

“For as long as I can remember,” I reply, half-smiling. Memories of those earlier days are mostly faded, but I can clearly remember some moments.

“You came here when you were a little boy, right?” Melissa asks.

“Yeah. I’d just turned six,” I tell her. “The circumstances of my coming here may have been tragic, but the life I built here… I don’t regret a single thing.”

“Sammy and Darla were on the ranch, though.”

“Yeah, stealing glances at each other. Tamara was still healthy. They were the three musketeers, as old man Avery called them. In their late twenties and still causing trouble here and there. Getting into fights with the neighbors, mostly.”

“What for?”

“The fence. That same old fence they’re still patching up today,” I laugh. “All it takes is one section being compromised, and the neighbors take advantage of it. They sneak in and steal our cattle.”

“Oh, wow, that’s totally disrespectful,” Melissa exclaims.

I shrug, used to the reality of running a ranch in these parts of Nebraska. “Oh, it’s better now. Back then, they used to settle these issues with rifles or sugar in the gas tanks. Darla was a fan of the sugar method.”

“She was a piece of work, huh?”

“Still is. She just targets it elsewhere,” I say. “Thing is, Sammy and Tamara were married when I came here. They seemed to be in love and were trying—and failing—to have kids. Darla was always rooting for them. As I grew up, I could see there were things left unspoken between them.”

“Between Darla and Sammy?”

I nod slowly. “Stolen glances. They’d spend too much time together, especially after Sammy and Tamara would have an argument. Darla tried to broker peace between them every time, but she never got involved, never made a pass at Sammy… you know, she’s a good and righteous woman. She would never settle for someone else’s crumbs.”

“I like Darla,” Melissa says, admiration twinkling in her eyes.

“Yeah. She’s one of those rare birds. Too beautiful, too smart, too strong for most men. Tammy had more of a soft side, I guess. It drew Sammy in, but I know… I don’t usually say it, and I never said it to Sammy anyway, but I’ve always thought, deep down, he regretted marrying Tamara. But I know he loved her.”

“There are different kinds of love,” Melissa replies. “I get it. But I agree, it would be nice if the two of them could resolve their differences. It’s a shame to spend the sunset of your life alone when there’s close by, hoping and waiting for another chance.”

“Oh, Sammy isn’t a saint either,” I say. “They tried. About three years back, Darla and Sammy were a couple and it was great for a while.”

Melissa gives me a curious look. “You told Sammy you’d warned him…”

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