Read Online A Cowboy Christmas Miracle (Burnt Boot, Texas Book 4) by Carolyn Brown - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Carolyn Brown
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except Quaid, are sixty years old and married. You think she’s having an affair with Quaid?”
Mavis laid a palm over her heart and gasped. “He’d best not be flittin’ around that woman. I’ll have him neutered. I swear to God I will. Why’d you have to put that picture in my mind? Leah has brought down enough shame on this family, marryin’ that hippie cowboy like she did.”
Declan set his food on the table and started to eat. “If it is Quaid, can Leah come back home? After all, she didn’t get hooked up with a Gallagher.”
Mavis’s hand left her chest and waved in the air like a frayed flag on a windy day. “She’s made her bed and now she can lie in it. You might do well to remember that, Declan. Which reminds me, it’s high time you started thinking about settling down. Honey can’t run this ranch by herself. She’ll need a strong male presence.”
“Then tell her to get married. I’m not interested,” Declan said.
Suddenly, he wasn’t hungry. He carried his plate to the sink, scraped it off, and turned on the garbage disposal.
“You are wasting good food!” Mavis shouted above the noise.
“Yep. See you later today.”
He grabbed a notepad with the ranch logo on the top on the way to his truck and wrote the first message to put into the can:
Have to figure out some other way to get this done. Someone saw you last night. Meet me in Gainesville tonight. Movie theater. Back row at the show that starts at seven thirty.
Chapter 5
Betsy could feel her grandmother’s glare the minute she walked into the country kitchen that morning. Since only four or five people had breakfast at the big house on Wild Horse, each person made their own and sat around the old oak table that had been in the family since before the feud started. Tension was so thick that a sharp machete couldn’t have cut through it, but Betsy wasn’t saying a word until she figured out who had already pissed in Naomi’s coffee that morning.
“I hear that Quaid Brennan picked you up behind the bar last night. Y’all went to the church, back into the nursery, and spent about fifteen minutes there and then you went back to your truck,” Naomi said in an ice-cold voice.
Betsy poured a cup of coffee and carried it to the table. “You heard wrong. I was at the church, but not with Quaid.”
“With who, then?”
“My college friend Iris. I left the old work truck at the bar and she picked me up.” She was thankful for her imaginary college friend, Iris. If the poor girl had been real, Betsy would have owed her too many favors to count.
“The mail doesn’t run on Thanksgiving,” Naomi said.
“The mail doesn’t bring the programs. The UPS man delivers them and puts them on the back porch, but he didn’t bring them yesterday after all, since it was a holiday. I left a note for Kyle and I’ll pick them up today and put them in the church. I’m hungry so I’m going to make my morning smoothie. You want one?” That wasn’t a lie; anxiety always made Betsy hungry.
“You should be eating eggs and bacon, not those glorified shakes.” A little of the ice had thawed in Naomi’s tone.
“I put protein into the shake, and it doesn’t have all those fat grams.”
“Promise me that you weren’t at that church with Quaid Brennan.”
Betsy dumped two tablespoons of protein powder into the blender, added yogurt and a banana, and looked right into Naomi’s eyes. “Do we need the Bible for me to put my right hand on?” she asked.
Naomi slapped the table so hard that the salt and pepper shakers rattled. “Stop stalling and give me your word.”
In a few strides, Betsy was standing in front of Naomi, right hand raised and eyes locked solidly with her grandmother’s. “I solemnly swear, right here before God and you—and please know that I’m far more afraid to lie to you than him—that I was not at the church with Quaid last night, and I have no intentions of ever being there with him other than Sunday
Mavis laid a palm over her heart and gasped. “He’d best not be flittin’ around that woman. I’ll have him neutered. I swear to God I will. Why’d you have to put that picture in my mind? Leah has brought down enough shame on this family, marryin’ that hippie cowboy like she did.”
Declan set his food on the table and started to eat. “If it is Quaid, can Leah come back home? After all, she didn’t get hooked up with a Gallagher.”
Mavis’s hand left her chest and waved in the air like a frayed flag on a windy day. “She’s made her bed and now she can lie in it. You might do well to remember that, Declan. Which reminds me, it’s high time you started thinking about settling down. Honey can’t run this ranch by herself. She’ll need a strong male presence.”
“Then tell her to get married. I’m not interested,” Declan said.
Suddenly, he wasn’t hungry. He carried his plate to the sink, scraped it off, and turned on the garbage disposal.
“You are wasting good food!” Mavis shouted above the noise.
“Yep. See you later today.”
He grabbed a notepad with the ranch logo on the top on the way to his truck and wrote the first message to put into the can:
Have to figure out some other way to get this done. Someone saw you last night. Meet me in Gainesville tonight. Movie theater. Back row at the show that starts at seven thirty.
Chapter 5
Betsy could feel her grandmother’s glare the minute she walked into the country kitchen that morning. Since only four or five people had breakfast at the big house on Wild Horse, each person made their own and sat around the old oak table that had been in the family since before the feud started. Tension was so thick that a sharp machete couldn’t have cut through it, but Betsy wasn’t saying a word until she figured out who had already pissed in Naomi’s coffee that morning.
“I hear that Quaid Brennan picked you up behind the bar last night. Y’all went to the church, back into the nursery, and spent about fifteen minutes there and then you went back to your truck,” Naomi said in an ice-cold voice.
Betsy poured a cup of coffee and carried it to the table. “You heard wrong. I was at the church, but not with Quaid.”
“With who, then?”
“My college friend Iris. I left the old work truck at the bar and she picked me up.” She was thankful for her imaginary college friend, Iris. If the poor girl had been real, Betsy would have owed her too many favors to count.
“The mail doesn’t run on Thanksgiving,” Naomi said.
“The mail doesn’t bring the programs. The UPS man delivers them and puts them on the back porch, but he didn’t bring them yesterday after all, since it was a holiday. I left a note for Kyle and I’ll pick them up today and put them in the church. I’m hungry so I’m going to make my morning smoothie. You want one?” That wasn’t a lie; anxiety always made Betsy hungry.
“You should be eating eggs and bacon, not those glorified shakes.” A little of the ice had thawed in Naomi’s tone.
“I put protein into the shake, and it doesn’t have all those fat grams.”
“Promise me that you weren’t at that church with Quaid Brennan.”
Betsy dumped two tablespoons of protein powder into the blender, added yogurt and a banana, and looked right into Naomi’s eyes. “Do we need the Bible for me to put my right hand on?” she asked.
Naomi slapped the table so hard that the salt and pepper shakers rattled. “Stop stalling and give me your word.”
In a few strides, Betsy was standing in front of Naomi, right hand raised and eyes locked solidly with her grandmother’s. “I solemnly swear, right here before God and you—and please know that I’m far more afraid to lie to you than him—that I was not at the church with Quaid last night, and I have no intentions of ever being there with him other than Sunday
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