One Cowboy, One Christmas. Kathleen Eagle

poor memory left Ann’s good one in control. Maybe she’d remind him, just to see how he reacted. Maybe she wouldn’t. It would all play out soon enough, and it would be her call.

      She was lining up the last dripping strips of fried bacon on paper towels when she heard the back door close. Hoolie Hoolihan announced himself with his signature two-note whistle from the mudroom, and she responded in kind. It was one of those routines that went way back. As far as Ann knew, her father had carved Hoolie from a Double D fence post and whistled him to life. That was the old hired man’s story, anyway, and he was sticking to it.

      “How’s your patient?”

      “He’s out of the woods.” Ann cracked an egg into the iron skillet, ignoring the gnarled, leathery hand that pulled a bacon soldier from her carefully arranged rank and file. “Soon to be headed for Texas.”

      “Not if he’s countin’ on the ride he left sittin’ out there on the highway. Is he gonna let me tow her? Like I says, she was sittin’ on Easy, but I gave her a little juice, and she still wouldn’t turn over.”

      “You can ask him after you check in with Sally. She’s back in the—”

      “You can ask him now.” He favored his left side as he ambled across the tile floor and stuck out his hand. “Zach Beaudry. You must be the man they keep referring me to. Hoolie?”

      “Gas ain’t gonna do ‘er. You got Triple A?”

      Zach chuckled and shook his head.

      “The last guy we had broke down out here, he told me he had Triple A. One of them fancy foreign jobs. Good luck gettin’ parts around here for one o’ them babies. But he was gone next I looked, so I guess the Force was with him, huh? Satellite, beamer-upper, club card, something. ‘Course, you wouldn’t be freezin’ your ass off walkin’ in from the highway…”

      “…if I hadn’t left home without the card. Next time I’m takin’ the Beamer and the satellite.”

      “You can always get a horse. You’ll still freeze your ass off.” Hoolie looked up expectantly, eyes twinkling.

      “But it sure beats walkin’.” Zach clapped a hand on the wiry old cowboy’s shoulder. The men shared a laugh while Ann smiled to herself and tended to the eggs. “How much gas did you put in? I’m beginning to think she’s got a hollow leg.”

      “I put in five gallons, but no go. I can pull ‘er into the shop here and have a look later on. Long as she’s American made, I can prob’ly get ‘er goin’. Or you can use my tools if you’re in a hurry.”

      “I’m on your schedule, Hoolie, thanks. Gotta say, I hope your schedule includes breakfast.”

      Ann took her cue to glance up. Zach smiled. He was clueless, all right.

      “It did,” Hoolie said. “Three hours ago. You walked in from the road with that gimpy leg?”

      “Hell, no. I borrowed one of Annie’s.”

      More instant-compadre humor.

      “Ann.” She slid two fried eggs on to a shiny white plate and presented it to Zach, who questioned her with a look. She gave a perfunctory smile. “It’s just Ann. My sister gets a pass because it’s better than what she used to call me.”

      “Gotcha. I got an older brother.”

      She added buttered toast to his plate. “Help yourself to the bacon.”

      He took two pieces.

      “It’s all yours,” she said, and he claimed one more with quiet thanks as she turned to open a cupboard.

      “I don’t know how I walked in from the road, Hoolie,” Zach said as he seated himself at the place she’d set at the breakfast counter. Some part of him gave an inhuman click, and he winced. “Feels like some of my replacement parts gave out. You got any extra sockets in your toolbox?”

      “We can sure check.” Hoolie turned to Ann and nodded toward the hallway. “How’s she feelin’ this morning?”

      “Other than a little extra fatigue, given all the excitement, herself seems to be feeling herself.” Ann handed Hoolie a cup of coffee. “But that doesn’t mean she can take on the world, and don’t you let her forget it, Hoolie. She listens to you.”

      “She wants to take in more horses.”

      “I know.”

      He shrugged, sipped, shrugged again, avoiding Ann’s eyes. “She says the Bureau of Land Management is offering a pretty good deal on a one-year contract with extension options. We can handle a few more.”

      “Hoo-Lie,” she warned as she grabbed another coffee mug from the open cabinet.

      “I’m with you,” he pled quickly. “We’re full up.”

      “And when I’m not around, you’re with her.”

      “Well, she can make a lot of sense when you’re not around.” Hoolie leaned closer to Zach’s ear. “I try to please, but there’s only one of me and two of them.”

      “You gotta love the one you’re with,” Zach said as he mopped a puddle of egg yolk off his plate with the corner of a wheat-toast triangle.

      “I just do what I’m told,” Hoolie muttered, head down, headed for the hallway. “Try to, anyway.”

      “Now you’ve embarrassed him.” Ann set a mug of black coffee near Zach’s plate.

      “He knows I’m joshin’ ‘im.” He closed his eyes and mmm’ed over his first taste of her coffee. She’d passed the ultimate test. He came up smiling. “How long has he been with you?”

      “Hoolie came with the ranch. He worked for my father.”

      “So you inherited him?”

      “Of course not.” On second thought, her indignation dissipated. “I should have said Hoolie’s with the Double D. I don’t know what we’d do without him. Maybe he inherited us.”

      “I guess I did embarrass him. Love can be a touchy word when it hits home. I thought he was just workin’ for wages.” He chewed on his bacon while she puzzled over what line he might have crossed between cowboys. “Maybe I can help him out today. I can’t go anywhere until I get my pickup fixed. What kind of horses you run here?”

      “Wild ones.”

      “The best kind.” He sipped his coffee while she poured herself a cup. “Switching from bulls to horses?”

      “We’re taking in wild horses. We’re kind of a sanctuary for unadoptable mustangs culled from wild herds on Federal land. They’re protected by law, so they have to be put somewhere.” She raised her green coffee mug in tribute. “Give us your old, your injured, your perennially rejected.”

      “Your can’t live with ‘em, can’t shoot ‘em,” he supplied.

      She seated herself on the counter stool beside him. “If you’re a rancher, your choices can seem almost that impossible. We used to be ranchers. Our father did, anyway. Now we’re more like…” she thought for a moment, couldn’t come up with anything better than “…a sanctuary. That’s what we’ve become.”

      “You get paid to take in these useless horses?”

      “The BLM helps with the upkeep, yes, but we’re, um…”

      “Doin’ charity work?” He drew an air sign. “Bless you, sisters.” And he grinned. “I really mean that. A buddy of mine works for the BLM out in Wyoming. Took me up in the hills one time, and we caught up with a band of mustangs. One of the prettiest sights I’ve ever seen. Usefulness is definitely overrated. Hell, look at me.”

      “You have wild horses in Montana, don’t you?”

      “Montana?”