One Cowboy, One Christmas

“Even so…”

They sounded familiar, these voices. Familiar to him and with him. Breathing? Check. Color? Approved.

Even so?

“They don’t like doctors, these guys. Doctors tell them all kinds of stuff they don’t want to hear.”

“Nobody wants to be told his toes might fall off.”

Zach pulled the flowery quilt into his lap as he looked down at his dangling feet. He counted ten toes, all attached. In a minute he’d try moving them.

“Heard on the radio the temperature dropped more than thirty degrees last night. Old-timers say the winter’s gonna be one for the record books.”

“They say that every fall.”

“Sometimes they’re right.”

“All the times they were wrong didn’t get recorded.”

Zach smiled inside his head. His face wasn’t ready. Cracking wasn’t out of the question. But he was a cowboy, and like all dying breeds of men, he was particularly fond of old-timers. Kind women with soft voices gave him a good feeling, too, and the survivor in him was bent on rounding up all the good feelings he could find.

“If he isn’t sick, he’s probably hungry. Either way…”

A tentative fist knocked on the door.

“Both, but hungry’s in the lead,” Zach answered.

The door swung open, and an angel appeared.

Where had that come from? Zach had used some sappy lines in his life, but angel wasn’t a word likely to leap off his tongue. Still, it fit. The mass of golden curls surrounded her doll’s face like a halo, and she looked so slight in her crisp white top and slim jeans that he could picture her taking flight in the right kind of updraft.

“Oh!” She pinked up real pretty when she laid eyes on him. Doll face. He’d never say anything like that, either, but it sure fit. “You’re up,” she observed, considerably down the scale from her oh! “How…how are you feeling?”

“Dazed and clueless.” He bunched up the quilt for better coverage below his waist. “Last I remember I was headed for Texas.”

“You still have a long way to go, then.”

“Ran outta gas.” He glanced at a bright window with frilly see-through curtains, looking for a hint. Tree branches didn’t cut it. “I’m pretty sure that’s a corner piece to this whole puzzle.”

“Hoolie says it’s more than that, but the important thing is—”

Tree outside the window. Tree inside the window.

“Is it Christmas already?”

“We have almost a month yet.” She glanced over her shoulder as she pushed the door wide. Back to him. “I think you should see a doctor. Do you need help getting dressed?”

“I need to know where I am.”

“You’re at the Double D Ranch in South Dakota, cowboy.” Voice number two rolled in on a wheelchair. “Sally Drexler,” she announced and then nodded toward the angel. “My sister, Ann.”

“Drexler, the stock contractor? I remember the name.”

“And I remember Zach Beaudry. I’ve been sidelined for quite a while now, but we’ve actually met before. Back when I was sassy and nimble.”

“Hey, I hear you, Sally. Rodeo’s a cruel mistress. One good kick in the nimble and all you’ve got left is sass.” And his was kinda twisting naked in the wind here.

“That’s the Zach Beaudry I remember,” Sally said with a slightly off-balance smile. “You’re a poet and you know it. Especially when those sports commentators come at you with a microphone.”

“Not anymore. I don’t like questions that begin with how disappointing is it, and they generally don’t like my answers.” He turned to Angel Ann. “Now, your question was…”

“Do you want to see a doctor?”

“Hell, no. But that wasn’t the question. Something about helping me get dressed, which is an offer that’s hard to refuse.”

“I’ll get Hoolie.”

“What’s a Hoolie?”

“You’ll like him,” Sally said. “He’s a cowboy, too.”

“Do I have clothes somewhere?” Zach returned the lopsided smile. “‘Cause if I don’t have an outfit, Hoolie might not like me.”

“We dried them.” Ann transferred a short stack of neatly folded clothes from her sister’s knees to the bed, about six inches from Zach’s hand. Like she was afraid to get too close. “Actually, we washed and dried them. I hope you don’t mind.”

“No, that’s great. Thanks.” He could see he was going to have to ditch the subtle humor. She’d missed his little I-see-by-your-outfit joke. “I didn’t think I was gonna make it. I remember that now. How far did I walk?”

“Three miles. We’re three miles off the road, and it dipped down below zero last night.”

“Hip still giving you trouble?” Sally asked. “I’m not in the business anymore, but I still watch and read all things rodeo. You know what I thought when Red Bull cleaned your clock that night?”

“That I was a dead man,” Zach guessed.

“That I was an idiot. I sold that bull to the Chase Brothers when he was a yearling.”

“He’s been Bull of the Year twice.” Zach grinned. “Congratulations. You’ve got yourself some good breeding stock.”

“I sold most of that, too. In this business you either have to be a fortune-teller or a fortune inheritor. I inherited a dream, and all I can tell you is, you never can tell.”

“Which is why you can’t be counted out until you are a dead man.” He laid his hand on the folded clothes. “I’ll get myself dressed and see what I can do about getting out of your way this morning.”

“No rush,” Sally said as she wheeled back on one side for a turnaround. “I have business to attend to. When Hoolie comes in, send him back to the office, will you, Annie?”

Ann stepped aside for Sally’s chair, manning the door as she spoke. “I have breakfast ready for you, and Hoolie wants to know whether to pull your pickup in.”

“You got a can and a couple gallons of gas I could buy?” At a dollar-fifty a gallon? Unless they wanted to cash a check for him. He’d have to call the bank first, save himself from adding insult to injury.

“You can discuss that with Hoolie. He’s already had a look at the pickup. I gave him your keys.” She paused, doorknob in hand. “I hope you don’t mind.”