Mistletoe CowboyBy: Carolyn Brown
Sage’s favorite cuss word bounced around inside her van like marbles in a tin can, sounding and resounding in her ears.
She had slowed down to a snail’s pace and was about to drop off the face of the earth into the Palo Duro Canyon when two men dragged sawhorses and a “ROAD CLOSED” sign toward the middle of the road. She stepped on the gas and slid between the sawhorses, slinging wet snow all over the highway workers.
The last things she saw in her rearview mirror were shaking fists and angry faces before the driving snow obliterated them. They could cuss all they wanted and even slap one of those fines double where workers are present on her if they wanted. She didn’t have time to fiddle-fart around in Claude waiting for eight to ten inches of snow to fall and then melt. She had urgent business at home that would not wait, and she was going home if she had to crawl through the blowing snow and wind on her hands and knees.
She’d driven all night and barely stayed ahead of the storm’s path until she was twenty miles from Claude and got the first full blast of the blinding snow making a kaleidoscope out of her headlights. If she was going to stop, she would have done so then, but she had to get home and talk her grandmother out of the biggest mistake of her life. With the snowstorm and the closed roads into and out of the canyon, Grand wouldn’t be making her afternoon flight for sure. Maybe that would give Sage time to talk her out of selling the ranch to a complete stranger.
“Dammit!” she swore again and didn’t even feel guilty about it. “And right here at Christmas when it’s supposed to be about family and friends and parties and love. She can’t leave me now. I should have listened to her.”
What was Grand thinking anyway? The Rockin’ C had been in the Presley family since the days of the Alamo. It was one of the first ranches ever staked out in the canyon, and her grandfather would roll over in his grave if he thought Grand was selling it to an outsider. Had the old girl completely lost her mind?
“Merry freakin’ Christmas!” she moaned as she gripped the steering wheel tightly on the downhill grade. The van went into a long greasy slide and she took her foot off the gas pedal and gently tapped the brakes to hold it back. She didn’t have to stay in her lane. The roads were closed and no one in their right mind would be driving in such a frightful mess with zero visibility.
Sage could find her way to the Rockin’ C with her eyes closed, and she might have to prove it because she couldn’t see a damn thing except white. From the inside of her house, it might have been beautiful, but from the inside of her van, it was eerie.
Sage laid her cell phone on the console, pressed the button for speakerphone, and hit the speed dial for the landline at the ranch. Nothing happened, which meant the snow had already knocked out the power for both the landline and the cell towers. Grand kept an old rotary phone that worked when the electricity was out, but if the phone power was gone, nothing worked.
Neither surprised her. The next to go would be the electricity. She just hoped that Grand had listened to the weather report and hooked up the generator to the well pump so there would be water in the house.
She was crawling along at less than five miles an hour when she turned into the lane leading to the house at the Rockin’ C, and the van still slid sideways for a few minutes before it straightened up. She slowed down even further and crept down the dirt lane, the engine growling at the abuse.
“Don’t stop now,” she said.
The quarter mile had never seemed so long, but if the van stopped she could walk the rest of the way. She’d even ruin her brand new cowboy boots if she had to. A warm house and her own bed were right up ahead and she was meaner than the storm anyway.