always bought a Christmas present for her mother and her brother. She’d wrap them and put them under her tree, and then a couple of days before Christmas she donated them to charity.
While they were under her tree she’d remember her love for her mother and her older brother, and she’d mourn the fact that her family had fallen apart when Regina Wright had passed away after battling cancer.
She rounded an aisle with her shopping cart and nearly bumped into Dillon Bowie and Cassie Peterson. “Hey, guys. Christmas shopping?”
“Just getting some ideas,” Cassie replied. She leaned into Dillon with a happy smile. “He won’t tell me what he wants, so I’m trying to find out if anything we see sparks his interest.”
“So far she’s told me at least a dozen things that she’d like to have,” Dillon replied with a teasing grin at the petite blonde next to him. “Besides, I keep telling her that I’ve got all I want. I have her.”
“Ah, that’s so sweet,” Mandy replied. Dillon and Cassie were the newest happy couple in Bitterroot. Through all the drama that had taken place at the Holiday Ranch, they had come together in love. Mandy thought it was all wildly romantic.
“Thank goodness most of the snow is gone,” Cassie said.
“It definitely makes it easier to get around,” Mandy replied.
“How’s the kissing booth going?” Cassie asked.
“I think once it’s over Seth is going to be pleased with the money raised,” Mandy replied. “We have some generous people in this town.”
“Bitterroot has always been a charitable town,” Cassie agreed.
The three of them visited for just a few more minutes and then Mandy continued her quest for perfect Christmas gifts. By the time she made her way home, she’d bought a beautiful eternity scarf for her mother, a bottle of cologne for her brother and a black leather wallet for her father. He’d probably hate it, but at least she’d tried.
She’d also picked up a pair of earrings in the shape of reindeer that lit up for Daisy. The flamboyant café owner would get a hoot out of them. With Mandy’s packages in a large shopping bag, she headed home.
The studio apartment above the detached garage had originally been rented out to make extra money, but four years ago the last tenant had moved out and Mandy had convinced her father to rent it to her.
It wasn’t huge, but there was a living room space with a sofa, a chair and a small kitchenette. There was still enough room left over for her queen-size bed shoved against a wall, a dresser and the bathroom.
The Wright ranch was relatively large, with lots of good pasture and a wooded area with beautiful shade trees. But it had been years since her father had actually worked the ranch. Now he preferred either sitting in his recliner and complaining about his life, or heading to the Watering Hole, where he could try to drink away those complaints.
As she prepared to wrap the silky scarf in shiny silver paper, her thoughts turned to her mother. Mandy had only a few memories of the woman who had given birth to her, and all of them were pleasant ones. Her mother had loved music and often sang as she cleaned or cooked. She had also been a beautiful woman and Mandy had been told by people in town that she looked just like her.
Her brother, Graham, had been a terrific big brother until the day he’d left. At first she’d thought he’d come back to get her, but she’d given up on that belief years ago.
By nine o’clock the tree was up on a small table in the living room area and all the presents were wrapped and under the tree. She sat on the sofa for a few minutes and admired the way the little white lights shone on the silver-and-red ornaments.
Christmas could be a little depressing for her since most of the time she celebrated alone. But she always tried to focus on positive things to keep the blues away.
With the tree up and the presents wrapped, she ate a chicken salad sandwich and changed into her pajamas. Finally she got into bed with her cell phone and considered calling Brody.
It would be nice to end the pleasant night as she had the night before, with Brody’s deep voice the last sound she heard before falling asleep. She decided not to call him. She didn’t want to seem too forward and wind up pushing him away.
She slept without dreams and awakened to the sound of her alarm. It was six fifteen. She would have loved to linger in bed, but her father was usually an early riser and liked his breakfast around seven.
She showered and dressed in the yellow T-shirt and black slacks that were her café uniform, then grabbed her purse and headed toward the big two-story house in the distance.
Over the past couple of years she’d tried to convince her father to sell the ranch and move closer to town. He didn’t need the land or the huge house, but he’d refused to consider it. She’d thought about moving into an apartment in town but knew her father depended on her rent money to help pay the bills.
The eastern sky was just starting to light as she unlocked the back door and stepped into the large kitchen. The sound of the television drifting in from the living room let her know her father was already up.
She shrugged off her coat and hung it on the back of a chair at the table, then moved to the coffee maker on the counter. Before greeting him she needed to get the coffee going. George Wright without his morning coffee was definitely an irritable bear.
As she waited, she looked around the kitchen, remembering the old days when they sat at the table as a family, the old days when her mother had been alive and Graham had been home.
When there was enough fresh brew, she filled a cup and left the kitchen. “Morning, Dad,” she said cheerfully as she entered the living room.
She could see the back of his head above the black leather recliner chair that faced the television, but he didn’t answer her.
Great, he wasn’t speaking to her...again. He was probably mad at her for going shopping the night before and leaving him to warm up his own dinner.
“Dad?” She rounded the chair and froze in horror.
Her father’s brown eyes stared blankly forward. His slashed throat gaped wide and blood had splashed down the front of him. There was no question that he was dead.
“No.” The cup of coffee slipped from her hand and crashed to the hardwood floor as a scream released from her.
* * *
Brody lingered over a cup of coffee in the cowboy dining room, listening as Sawyer and Mac McBride discussed the weather and the forecast for a dryer winter than usual.
If it had been springtime the men would already be out of here and doing morning chores in the field, but in winter the schedule was far more lax.
Aside from providing feed and water for the cattle and taking care of the horses, they spent most of their time repairing and maintaining equipment.
He tuned out their conversation and instead found himself thinking about Mandy. He’d been surprised when she’d called him two nights before just to chat. Brody didn’t just “chat” with anyone, but he’d found it impossible to remain stoic and
