Nine
Chapter One
Zach Lucas stood on a weathered old porch in the small town of Deep Gulch, Montana, and scowled as the gray sky darkened even further. “It’s going to snow.”
Dr. Norris, the only vet in Deep Gulch, Montana, shrugged as he cheerfully slipped another handful of candy canes into the mail bag Zach had slung over his shoulder. “Don’t worry about the snow. The postal truck always makes it through. You’ll do fine.”
The doctor had made a bargain with Zach. It was Saturday, December 23, and Zach was to deliver the mail along the rural route outside of Deep Gulch so that the doctor, who had promised he would do his sister’s mail route in her absence, could tend to Zach’s sick horse instead.
It was a perfect bargain except for one small thing. Zach hated it.
If he wasn’t so worried about his horse, Zach would never have agreed. It wasn’t that he had anything against delivering the mail. That was no problem. What was a problem was delivering it the way the doctor’s sister wanted it done. She wanted it to look like Santa himself was out there delivering the letters this close to Christmas.
Zach pushed his Stetson hat lower on his head. He didn’t know anyone in this crazy one-stop town, but he still hoped no one saw him as he stood on the doctor’s porch. He was Zach “Lightning” Lucas and he had a reputation to uphold—a reputation that didn’t include a fuzzy red fat-suit and a plastic black belt. It was bad enough that the four-wheel-drive postal truck had a fake set of reindeer horns tied to the grill and a ball of mistletoe swinging from the antenna. He didn’t need Christmas fuzz all over him, too.
Zach grimaced as red and green flashes met his eyes. The lightbulbs hanging from the reindeer horns were on a timer. When he first saw them, he’d hoped they were merely ornamental. No such luck.
Zach didn’t know how much holiday nonsense he could take. After all, he was Zach “Lightning” Lucas. He had more gold-plated champion belt buckles than most men had ties. He had fans who knew his name—lots of fans since he’d endorsed that Ranger breakfast cereal. People recognized him in grocery stores and in laundromats. He was famous, for Pete’s sake. He was entitled to some dignity.
Unfortunately, the doctor did not care about Zach’s dignity.
And it was all because of Christmas. Not that Zach should be surprised. Christmas had been giving him trouble for years. It always depressed him with all that family stuff. Not that Zach had anything against families—it’s just that that family stuff wasn’t for a man like him.
That’s why, this year, he had made a plan.
Zach and Thunder were only passing through Montana, heading over to Interstate 15 for the long stretch down to Las Vegas. Once there, Thunder would board at a ranch some miles outside of Vegas while Zach hit the Strip. The neon lights and showgirls—well, if her return message was to be believed, one showgirl in particular—would make him forget the holidays were even here.
He and Thunder had been making good time, too, Zach thought mournfully, until Thunder got a fever.
“You’ve got the map.” The older man patted his pockets as though the slip of paper showing all the county roads might still be there instead of taped to the dashboard of the postal truck.
“Yes, sir.”
The winter air had a bite to it, but Zach was in no hurry to leave the doctor’s porch and get into that decked-out postal truck. He might as well ride around in a clown’s cart and be done with it.
“Well then, let me get that apple pie my sister baked for the Collins family.” Dr. Norris ducked inside his house, his muffled voice continuing, “That’ll be the last stop on your list. And the box in back is for them, too. Their car is broken. Radiator. So Delores said she’d pick some things up for them.” The doctor appeared again with a foil-wrapped pie. “Two of the cutest kids you’ll ever meet.”
Zach nodded. He’d already met every kid on the planet—both the cute and the ugly. The ones he missed at the rodeos he met because they ate Ranger breakfast cereal. Not that he was complaining. He liked kids better than he liked most adults.
The doctor smiled and looked at Zach slyly. “’Course, one look at their mother and you’ll see why they’re so cute.”
Zach grunted. Now that was the part of meeting kids he didn’t like—their mothers. Even the women who were married always seemed to have a scheme to get him married off to someone. You’d think there was something wrong with a man choosing to live in hotel rooms and wash his socks in bathroom sinks.
The doctor shook his head. “The poor woman. Such a pity—”
The doctor looked at Zach as though he expected some curiosity.
Zach had none.
The doctor ploughed ahead, anyway. “Jenny Collins is a widow. Not that she’s old, mind you. No, sir. Moved up here a couple of months ago—surprised us all. She’d been married to Jeb Collins’s nephew.” The doctor nodded at Zach as though Zach had known this Jeb, whoever he was. “Jeb had left the place to his nephew, but we all thought the nephew would have sense enough to sell it before he started dying of that cancer of his. But he didn’t. Don’t know what he was thinking. Surely he didn’t expect his widow to move up here with the two kids. What do you think a city woman’s gonna do with a place like that anyway?”
Zach shrugged. He didn’t like to get involved in the problems of strangers.
The doctor had no such hesitation. “Delores says the woman’s been getting magazines on farm management!” He shook his head. “She’s a game one, I’ll give her that. But it’s no place for her and the kids—even old man Collins used to move into town here for the winter months. The house doesn’t even have a decent road leading up to it. Ruts a mile deep, and it drifts closed every time there’s a blizzard.”
The doc took a breath before he continued. “Delores always drives the mail right up to the house for them. But with the next hard snow they won’t get mail for a week. The county snowplow doesn’t go that far out. Most farmers out that way have plows on their tractors or something. But all the woman’s got is that car of hers—and with the two little ones—Delores worries about their car not working.”
Delores, Zach had already learned, worried about everything and everybody.
The doctor stopped suddenly and squinted at Zach. “What Jenny Collins needs is a husband.”
Zach looked at the doctor in amazement and then pushed his hat farther down on his head. “Don’t look at me. I’m just trying to get my horse fixed up. Besides, from the sounds of it, she needs a tractor worse than she needs a husband.”
The doctor shrugged. “I doubt you’d stand a chance, anyway. I hear Max Daniel is planning to ask her out—he’s a rancher north of here. ’Course Tom Fox might beat him to the punch. A good-looking woman like Jenny can have her pick of the bachelors around here.”
