The Cowboy's Christmas Gift. Donna Alward

out what I want to do next.”

      A cold sensation ran down Carrie’s body. “What do you mean, you’re just here until...? What happens to the ranch if you leave?”

      He shrugged. “We all have to take our place at some point during the year. If we don’t, the ranch gets sold.”

      Sold out from under them all, and if things went the way they had been lately, the buyer would sell off the herd and turn the ranch land into a housing development. She’d be out of a job. Instead of Duke being some savior, it was a real possibility that this was just prolonging the inevitable. Maybe she should start looking for new employment now, so she didn’t end up scrambling. Didn’t end up defaulting on loans and payments.

      The problem was she loved Crooked Valley. It was her home. A home Duke didn’t appreciate at all.

      “I see,” she said weakly. “So why bother learning the ropes if you’re just going to pick up and move on again?”

      “What if I don’t pick up and move? As I said, I’m figuring out what to do next. Learning about the operation is interesting.”

      Carrie’s hopes were short-lived. Ranchers didn’t find things “interesting.” Ranching was part of who they were. It was something that was in the blood. It definitely wasn’t something to dabble in for fun or because you had nothing better to do. Duke would stay a few months and be gone.

      “Crooked Valley isn’t really the sort of place where you just fill some of your spare time,” she replied, her voice sharp. The headache was threatening to come back, too.

      “Hey, give me a break. I haven’t come anywhere close to making any sort of a decision. I’ve only been here a week. I’ve hardly had two seconds to wrap my head around all of this, let alone relax.”

      “Well,” she replied, “you’d better brace yourself, then, because next weekend things are going to get a lot busier and we need every pair of hands available.”

      “Get ready for what?”

      “You want a taste of what ranching is really like? We move the herd back here to the mountain pastures for the winter. The folks at the Triple B will give us a hand driving the cattle, and the next week we return the favor. It’s exhausting but huge fun, too.”

      “A cattle drive?”

      She nodded. “Yup. We overnight at the old cookhouse and ride back the next day. When your grandmother was still alive, she cooked for two straight days to feed the crew when they returned. The past few years Joe brought in sandwiches and coffee for the first night’s supper and we did a potluck on the return. All the wives bring dishes and someone generally fires up some music for a bit of dancing.” She knew there was a hint of nostalgia in her voice but she couldn’t help it. It was one of the hardest and best weekends of the year, in her opinion—second only to the branding and vaccination day in the spring.

      “I’m expected to coordinate that?” Duke’s eyebrows lifted. “Why didn’t anyone mention it?”

      She shrugged. “I thought Quinn would have told you. Until last night, you barely said two words to me all week.”

      Duke shoved his hands in his pockets. “I have no idea what I’m doing when it comes to herding cows. And I have no idea what to do about after, either. Do people expect a party?” He looked genuinely distressed. “You’ll help me, right?”

      Ah, so here it was. Now that he was stuck he realized she existed. That’s not fair, a voice inside her argued. He sure knew you existed last night.

      Yeah. He knew she existed when it came to making out in his truck or needing a social coordinator. She lifted her chin. “Forget it, Duke. I’m the cattle foreman and I’ll be heading up the drive. I’m not a party planner.”