The Cowboy Who Saved Christmas - Jodi Thomas Page 0,35

them to take on a hobbled cattle ranch as a dowry and bail me out, the Lucky B would belong to the bank on New Year’s Day.

My stomach roiled just thinking about it. My father would turn over in his grave.

Lila was right about something else as well. At least it wasn’t Christmas Eve, my birthday. That would have been too much. Benjamin’s uncle, Travis Mason, had always held this “community get-together”—that was what he’d called it—on the holiday itself back in his day. When Benjamin inherited the ranch and married, he’d carried on the tradition at first. Since his wife died giving birth to his daughter shortly afterward, however, he’d changed it to a few days prior. Probably in mourning over the love of his life. As if he knew what love was.

I shifted in my seat. Malcolm, the last stable manager left who I could afford to pay, insisted on driving for propriety’s sake, and sat silently as we jostled and listened to the carriage horse’s hooves. As with Lila, I let him have his way. Most of the time. They were only looking out for the woman they still saw as a girl. To be honest, I kind of felt like that girl again as we crossed the bridge that once connected our separate properties. Before Benjamin Mason made it his.

I’d made it a point not to come here except in passing, to inspect the fencing over the last five years, but once upon a time that young woman who’d thought she was all grown up then, met up with a certain ranch hand just on the other side on a fairly regular basis. To the little stone formations that were hidden from the eye on the other side, that made their way down to the water and a little cubby under the bridge. A beautiful, private spot.

That young woman had been a fool.

Chapter 2

1899 (five years earlier)

Josie

I slid down from my saddle, running a loving hand over Daisy’s neck. She turned to nuzzle my cheek, and I chuckled. Anyone could say whatever they wanted—and they usually did—but horses were the best kinds of friends. Loyal to a fault, silly when they wanted to be, fiery when they needed to be, and they were the absolute best keeper of secrets.

Daisy knew all of mine.

Being the only girl my age among a world of cattlemen didn’t provide much in female companionship, so when the mysterious new ranch hand arrived at the Lucky B, she heard all my thoughts.

Ben—I never asked for a last name, and he never offered one—was different from the others. Quiet and to himself. A little dark and sulky, maybe, but oh so beautiful. Light hair that wasn’t quite blond but not brown either, peeked out in wavy locks from beneath his wide-brimmed dark hat. Hazel, gold-flecked eyes gazed at me boldly when I’d gotten close enough to see them the first time, sending my insides into a flutter I’d never experienced before.

And at eighteen, I’d had plenty of opportunity lately.

My grandparents on my mother’s side were active in Houston’s social circle, and hell-bent on pulling me from “that ranch life” that they felt was beneath me. It was beneath them, really. I couldn’t wrap my head around the endless galas and dinners and teas and formal etiquette they loved so much. I’d find myself on the other end of some boring so-and-so’s son’s diatribe about what he was going to college to do, or what business his father or uncle or grandfather was in to . . . and staring out a window at the land in the distance. Fantasizing about being back on my land. Sitting under the pecan groves and feeling the grass under my fingers. Riding Daisy until my hair shook loose from my perpetual braid.

My father insisted I go. I knew it was to keep the peace with his in-laws. Maybe even assuage some guilt that my mother left them behind and then died having me . . . I didn’t know exactly what his reasons were. But he told me to keep my mind open, and that I could do both. I could love the ranch and still be cultured in polite society. I could marry a suitable businessman and still be connected to my own family’s legacy. The ranch was doing well, rising in status every year in the cattle auction circles. The Lucky B was making a significant name for itself, and I would be considered quite