Page 75 of Whiskey and Wildfire

“It’s our first Christmas together,” I replied, leaning into him. “I wanted it to be special.”

“Gonna be special either way with you here.”

I smiled from ear to ear. “Same goes for you.”

“Boys!” my mother yelled from the door. “Come on!”

“Don’t you wanna look at the lights?” I called back.

She let out a long sigh, like I was forcing her to do something ridiculous. Wrapping a shawl around her shoulders, she stepped out into the front yard, standing beside us as she looked up at the house. She gave it a good five seconds before she patted me on the shoulder.

“It’s beautiful,” she said. “Good job. Now get in the house.”

“Yes ma’am,” Logan laughed, watching her go.

“Ever since she moved in here, she’s been such a pain in the neck,” I whispered to Logan. “A real tyrant.”

“That’s my mother rubbing off on her.”

“Why did she ask my mom to move in again?”

“Probably because they’re conspiring to drive Daddy crazy.”

I couldn’t help but giggle as we headed up the porch stairs. He was probably right. My mom had lived in the Baker house for nearly two months now. She didn’t want to leave Sagebrush but was having a hard time finding an apartment anywhere nearby. As soon as Mrs. Baker heard about it, she moved her into the guest room permanently. And Logan, not wanting to be stuck in the house withtwomothers, moved into my cabin almost immediately. It was a bit of a kerfuffle, but in the end, everyone seemed exceptionally happy with the situation.

“What’s taking you boys so long?”

“Christmas isn’t for another four days Mrs. Parker,” Logan called out, taking his hat off and hanging it next to mine. “We’ll make it in time.”

“It’s miss now,” she called back. “And at this rate we’ll be going to bed before you get to the table.”

The dining table was full, even with Caroline gone. She was down in Amarillo for a couple days visiting her rodeo friend who was coming up to the ranch in the spring, but she promised to be home in time for Christmas. Supper was a talkative affairas always. Daddy wanted to know how preparations were going with the arena and how far we’d gotten on the expansion of my cabin. He could’ve just glanced out the window, but it was nice to see him so interested. His recovery was going well, and he kept threatening to get out there and help us, although Mrs. Baker had yet to sign off on such an adventure.

“How’s Dustin doing?” Mrs. Baker asked. “Did y’all go out and check on him today?”

“He’s fine, mama,” Logan sighed. “The man paid for this entire ranch so he could have some peace and privacy. I doubt he wants us buggin’ him every single day.”

“Well, be that as it may, I’m gonna pack up some food for you to take out to him after supper. That boy is too skinny.”

Logan started to argue, but I put a hand on his thigh under the table. “We’d be happy to,” I said, answering for him.

He shot me a quizzical look, but didn’t push the subject.

After supper, Logan and I bundled up against the chilly night air and headed out to Dustin’s cabin with a basket of leftovers from Mrs. Baker. The stars twinkled brightly overhead as we walked hand in hand down the dirt path, our breath forming little clouds in front of us.

“You know, we don’t have to keep checking on him like this,” Logan said, a hint of annoyance in his voice. “He’s a grown man, not some stray puppy we took in.”

I squeezed his hand. “I know, but your mama means well. And besides, I kind of like our little visits out here. It’s peaceful.”

Logan’s expression softened. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right. It is nice to get away from all the hustle and bustle back at the main house sometimes.”

As we approached Dustin’s tiny house, we could see a warm glow coming from the windows. Smoke curled lazily from the small chimney, drifting up into the starry night sky. I knocked gently on the door, balancing the basket of food in my other arm.

After a few moments, we heard shuffling inside and then the door creaked open. Dustin stood there, looking a bit disheveled in flannel pajama pants and an old t-shirt. His eyes widened slightly when he saw us.

“Oh, uh, evening fellas,” he said, running a hand through his messy hair. “Wasn’t expecting company.”

“Sorry to bother you,” I said quickly. “Mrs. Baker just wanted us to bring you some leftovers from supper.”

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