had been fresh out of school and eager to put down his own roots in Rust Creek Falls independent of the grandparents who had let him and Bella live with them in town but never showed them an ounce of affection. He was also familiar with the Circle K because he’d worked as a ranch hand for Dierk in the summers during high school. The old man had taught him a lot about ranch management, and though Jamie had felt uncomfortable taking advantage of his misfortune, Dierk assured him that he’d be happy knowing the ranch was in the hands of someone who cared about the land and wouldn’t turn it into some kind of tourist attraction for the Hollywood types who had been flocking to Montana in recent years to pretend to be cowboys.
So Jamie had scraped together enough money for the down payment, financed the rest of the purchase and taken what was left of the Kruegers’ herd on a consignment basis. He renamed the property The Short Hills Ranch in recognition of its topography, then he’d refurbished the house and moved in with his new bride.
He’d been happy then—and so full of hope for the future. Now he was just trying to get by, one day at a time.
That was the problem with physical work—it left his mind free to wander without direction. Usually he appreciated the mundane tasks that he could perform without thinking, but today, Fallon’s desire to cut down a tree suddenly had him thinking of Christmases past.
He had fond memories of holidays with his family during the first fifteen years of his life, before his parents had been killed in a car wreck. Hiking out into the woods to find the perfect tree, arguing over who got to cut it down—and then who had to lug it back to the house.
While his father set up the tree, his mother would make hot chocolate, rich and creamy, and float little marshmallows on top. When the chocolate had been drunk, they’d work together to decorate the towering evergreen. Lights. Garland. Ornaments. And then, finally, the serious countdown toward Christmas would begin.
With seven kids in the family, there was always a pile of presents under the tree. Never anything too expensive or impractical, of course, but there was always something that was needed—like an extra pair of long johns or a new razor—and something that was wanted—a coveted toy or favorite treat. And his mother always knitted a new sweater for each of her seven children.
The first Christmas after his parents were gone had been starkly different for Jamie and all of his siblings. Agnes and Matthew Baldwin—their maternal grandparents—were their only living relatives, and they had not been pleased by the prospect of taking in seven grandchildren.
Luke, Daniel and Bailey made it easy on them—opting to leave Rust Creek Falls to make their own way in the world. Because the three eldest siblings were all of legal age, their grandparents couldn’t stop them. But Jamie knew that they didn’t even try, that they were relieved by this immediate lessening of their responsibilities.
And still, four kids were a lot for the older couple to take in, especially when they lived in a modestly sized house in the center of town. Without any consultation—or even any warning, Agnes and Matthew had signed the two youngest siblings over to the local child welfare authorities to be adopted. Jamie remembered saying goodbye to Dana and Liza before he left for school early one morning, and when he returned home that afternoon, they were gone.
Only Jamie and Bella—too young to be independent like their brothers and too old to be considered adoptable like their sisters—were left. Was it any wonder that he and Bella had adopted a “you and me against the world” mentality? Or that they’d never felt close to the grandparents who had reluctantly taken them in?
Their first holiday with the grandparents had been an eye-opener. Agnes and Matthew hadn’t bothered with a real tree for years and didn’t see any reason to change their tradition of putting out a ceramic tree on the coffee table. There were a few other decorations scattered around the house and a holly wreath on the exterior door.
He’d thought that was quite possibly the worst Christmas ever. He’d been wrong.
He scrubbed a gloved hand over his face as the cold wind swirled around him, making his eyes water, and forced his attention back to the fence.
A sound came from somewhere in the distance—something that sounded like a dog barking.
He didn’t have a dog. He’d always planned to get one, but when he’d suggested to Paula that they make a trip to the nearest shelter to pick one out, she’d balked. If they were going to bring an animal into the house, she didn’t want it to be what she called a flea-infested mongrel. And maybe that should have been one of his first clues that their differences were greater than their similarities, but he’d ignored the concerns, so certain that they could make their marriage work.
He heard the bark again—far in the distance. Near the end of the summer, he’d noticed a dog skirting the edges of the property. A once-beautiful golden retriever now with matted fur and distrustful eyes. He didn’t know if she’d been abused or abandoned, but she hadn’t let him coax her to come near. After a few weeks, he noticed that she hadn’t ventured too far away, either.
So he’d put a couple of stainless-steel bowls outside of the barn, ensuring one was always filled with fresh water and the other with kibble he’d picked up when he was at the feed store. And he’d hammered together some spare boards into a makeshift shelter that he’d set out on the north side of the property, where she seemed to linger.
Though he’d never seen her inside, he felt better knowing that it was there, that she had an escape from the elements if she chose to use it. And though he’d never seen her at the barn, the water and food needed to be replenished on a regular basis.
He’d immediately thought of her as a she, though he didn’t know for sure. But any uncertainty as to her gender had been put to rest early in October when he’d seen her hovering at the edge of the woods. She was pregnant.
So before the first snowfall, he’d tossed a couple of old blankets into the shelter he’d built, hoping she would take refuge there when her birthing time was near. He wished he could do more. He wished he had the time to track her down and bring her in out of the cold to ensure that she and her puppies were safe, but he had all he could handle taking care of his own kids—and then some.
And now Fallon had launched a Christmas campaign to get him in the spirit of the holidays. He appreciated that her heart was in the right place—he just wished he could make her understand that his was still battered and bruised. He did want HJK’s first Christmas to be a memorable one, and he was confident that Fallon would make it so. He was less certain that anything could change his own “bah, humbug” attitude this year, though he was almost tempted to let her try.
* * *
Fallon had just finished programming the slow cooker when she heard one of the babies stirring. Wiping her hands on a towel, she quickly climbed the steps to the upper level, eager to get to whoever was awake before he or she woke the others.
She’d been part of the baby chain since the beginning and she’d fallen in love with Henry, Jared and Katie almost instantly. She loved taking care of them and, on the rare days that she didn’t see them—and their dad—she missed them all unbearably. On days like today, while she was tending to the children, tidying the house and preparing meals while Jamie worked on the ranch, it was all too easy to pretend that this was her life—that Jamie was her husband and his children were her children, too. But that was only a fantasy. The reality was that when he came in from his chores at the end of the day, she would say goodbye and go back to her regularly-scheduled, lonely life. But today, the fantasy would be extended just a little bit longer, because when Jamie came back, they were going to cut down a Christmas tree together.
After
