The Cowboy's Christmas Courtship

He wasn’t crazy about them. He’d been living in Oklahoma City off and on. Had even spent some time down in Texas. Anything to avoid coming home.

“It was good to have Dad out there for the last night of the finals.” It had been even better to wake up in the hospital and see his dad sitting next to the bed.

“He was thrilled that he could be there. And so proud of you. But I would have liked for you to come home and have the surgery here instead of in Texas.” His mom touched his arm. “How is Dylan?”

Dylan was a year older than Gage, and the two brothers had always been close. Dylan had been living in Texas for about a year, avoiding the family. Mainly because he had known they wouldn’t understand what he was doing. “Mom, he’ll be home as soon as he can.”

“Why is he doing this?”

“Because Casey is his friend, and she needs someone to help her while she goes through chemo. She doesn’t have family.”

“I know but it’s a big responsibility for a young man.”

“He’s twenty-eight, and you’ve taught us all to help those in need.”

“It’s one lesson you’ve all learned.” She hooked her arm through his. “Jackson is here.”

“Good. I meant to tell him about a few bulls that are going up for sale.”

“You boys and those bucking bulls.” She shook her head. He didn’t mind that she didn’t get it. She got just about everything else that mattered. Before she walked away he hugged her again.

“I’ve missed you.”

She smiled at that, “I’ve missed you, too. Sometimes I don’t know if you know how much. Which reminds me. You missed Thanksgiving last Thursday. But you did not miss serving dinner tonight at the Back Street Community Center.”

He nearly groaned. He hadn’t timed this as well as he’d thought. Each year they had a community dinner a week after Thanksgiving.

“How long do I have?”

She patted his back. “A few hours. Don’t try to leave.”

From the kitchen he heard Jackson laugh. Gage walked into the big open room that always smelled like something good was cooking, and usually was. He ignored Jackson and opened the oven door. Rolls. He inhaled the aroma and closed the door.

“Better stay out of there or Mom will have your hide.” Jackson poured himself a cup of coffee and offered one to Gage.

“No, thanks.”

“Did I hear you say something about Layla Silver?”

Gage shook his head.

Jackson took a sip of coffee and stared at him over the rim of the cup. Gage zeroed in on the pies lined up on the counter. He went for one but his mom slapped his hand away.

“Those are for the community center.”

“I had restaurant food for Thanksgiving. Don’t I rate at least a piece of pumpkin pie?”

“Not on your life, cowboy. You could have come home.”

“I couldn’t leave Dylan.”

His mom went to the fridge and opened the door. “I have a coconut cream pie I made a couple of days ago. Knock yourself out.”

“Thanks, Mom. That’s why you’re the best. Where’s Dad?”

“He took a load of cattle to Tulsa. He’s staying there tonight.”

Gage grabbed a fork and headed for the table to finish off the pie. “So, you guys have fun at the community center.”

He knew he wouldn’t get away with skating out on helping. He thought it would be fun to try. He took a bite of pie, closing his eyes just briefly to savor the taste. His mom’s pies were the best.

“You’re going with me,” his mom said from the kitchen as she opened the oven door and removed the homemade rolls. “Jackson, Madeline and Jade are helping, too.”

“You know I can’t stand for long periods of time.” He grinned as he tried out his last excuse, pointing to the knee he’d had surgery on.

“We’ll get you a chair to sit on.”

He’d lost. He knew when to let it go.

Jackson sat down next to him. “Lucky for you, Layla Silver will be there, too.”

“Thanks...that makes it all better.” Gage finished off his pie. “I’m going to get cleaned up.”

He made it upstairs to his room and collapsed on the bed that had the same bedspread he’d used as a teen. The posters on the walls were of bull riders he’d looked up to as a kid. Justin McBride, J. W. Hart and Chris Shivers. He crooked one arm behind his head and thought about how life had changed. He’d wanted to be them. Now he rode in some of the same events they’d ridden in. But he was still running from life.

Since he had time he flipped on the TV and searched for reruns of the finals. He didn’t find them so he settled for a few minutes of a popular sitcom. A guy who had made mistakes and was trying to make amends to the people he’d hurt. Gage thought about how much he had in common with the guy in that show. Since his bull wreck at the finals, he’d been thinking a lot about his list of wrongs.

How did he make amends to the people he’d hurt? Where did he start? He sighed, because he knew that he needed to start with the person he’d hurt the most. The person who liked him the least.

How did he do that without giving her the wrong idea?

* * *

The parking lot at Back Street Community Center held about fifty cars. So far there were only a dozen or so. Layla parked her old truck and reached for the green bean casserole she’d brought. In the passenger seat, Brandon looked miserable and almost as green as the casserole.

“Come on. You can help serve.” She handed him the dish. “Don’t drop it.”

“I think I can manage to carry a pan.” He had that sullen, teen look on his face. She ignored it because she knew he wanted to get a rise out of her.

“Let’s go, then.”

“Why can’t I help the guys put together the buildings for the nativity?” He nodded in the direction of Bethlehem, or at least the Dawson version.

As they walked by, the star over the manger lit up briefly, flickered and went out again. Someone yelled that they’d found the short in the cord.

Brandon slowed, probably hoping she’d tell him to do what he wanted. She shook her head.

“You’re going inside.”