A Montana Christmas Read online

She gave a rueful laugh. “That would be the place. I need to decide if I can do some rehab and sell it as a family home. Otherwise, Eric claims it’s bulldozer-worthy.”

  “What—”

  “With that, I really need to get going,” she said firmly. She took a final sip of the soda and dropped the can in the recycle bin outside the tack room door. “Decisions and a lot of work await.”

  “Good luck, then.” He watched her hurry toward her pickup and drive away.

  The good Lord knew he was no knight in shining armor to anyone—the end of his long engagement last year had proven that. Still, something about Kristen felt like a magnetic pull and he’d wondered, if just for a moment, she’d felt it too.

  That old house was probably in worse shape than she even realized, and with the start of another Montana winter already approaching, maybe she’d welcome a little help or at least some advice about the local craftsmen. He’d had several of them work on his clinic, and not all of them had been good.

  With a bit of luck, he might even get the elusive Kristen Jones to slow down a little and enjoy being here. He might like that very much.

  CHAPTER THREE

  It was a relief to know that Tucker had a clean, roomy stall, in a stable that had earned such good feedback on its Facebook page. He’d be warm and safe and comfy. As for herself, the jury was still out.

  It was six o’clock and dusk was settling in as Kristen pulled into the driveway behind Grandma Tilly’s house. Now, it looked almost foreboding, with all of the windows dark and several of them covered in plywood. Why hadn’t she checked the light switches to make sure the power was still on? If not, was there even a motel in this town?

  Saying a prayer under her breath, she climbed out of the truck and walked up to the back door, tried several keys until finding one that worked, then pushed it open. Dust swirled into the air, making her sneeze. With another heartfelt prayer, she groped along the wall for the light switch. The kitchen light blazed on and she gasped.

  The single bare bulb dangling from a cord in the center of the room revealed a jumble of empty boxes, heaps of old clothing and shoes scattered across the floor. The kitchen cupboard doors hung open, revealing random boxes of food that had been gnawed open by rodents. A single chair with a broken leg lay on the floor. The floor and counters were filthy, with boxes of rodent bait scattered here and there.

  Earlier today, her rushed assessment of the house hadn’t included the kitchen, not with Tucker anxiously pawing in the trailer. Since she already knew things would be bad elsewhere inside, she’d hurried back outside to her truck...not fully realizing just how creepy the place would be at night. If only her beloved Golden Retriever Bob was still with her, she would’ve at least felt safe and at ease in this rundown place, but she’d been too heart-broken to look for another dog ever since he died.

  At a tentative knock at the front door, she crossed through the dining room into a central hallway leading to the front entryway and flipped on the porch lights. Lane and Becca stood outside, an extra-large pizza box in Lane’s hands. Becca held two buckets overflowing with cleaning supplies. A mop and broom were already leaning against the door.

  Kristen’s heart skipped a beat as she opened the front door. “I-is Tucker all right?”

  Becca smiled. “Perfectly fine. But from what we hear, things aren’t so good for you on your first night in town.”

  Kristen closed her eyes briefly in relief, then looked between the two of them, perplexed. “But why...what...”

  “Lane mentioned that you were moving in and planning to fix the place up, so I asked our aunt Lucy if it was even habitable.”

  “She hadn’t seen the interior for a year,” Lane added. “But even back then it was rough. We thought we’d come over to offer some help so you at least can settle in a little. And we figured we should all start with some pizza.”

  Kristen lifted a hand to her lips, overwhelmed by their offer and embarrassed by the mess surrounding her. “This is too much. I—I can’t expect anyone to come in here. It’s horrible.”

  “We’ve seen much worse, believe me.” Becca rolled her eyes. “One of our maiden aunts refused all visitors for years, and when we finally got a judge to intervene, we found her place could have been featured on a TV show about hoarders.”

  Lane glanced around the front room and shrugged. “Looks like mostly trash, and furniture for the landfill. No big deal.”

  Kristen felt her lower lip tremble. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Say, it’s time for the best pizza in town,” he said with a wink. He lifted the lid of the pizza box, releasing a cloud of mouth-watering aroma. “And if the three of us all work until ten or so, we can make a real difference.”

  IT WAS ALMOST MIDNIGHT when Becca finally tossed her sponge back into a bucket of hot water and stretched. “I think I’m done for now. So, what do you think?”

  “I just don’t know what to say. You and Lane are amazing. How can I ever thank you?”

  Becca shrugged away the thanks. “No big deal. At least you’ve got a start here.”

  She and Kristen had focused on the kitchen. All of the cupboards had been emptied and scrubbed, the countertops—except for a burn mark from a hot pan—looked much better. Lane had hauled uncounted trash bags out to the curb, along with some old mattresses and most of the rickety old furniture more suited for a bonfire than use.

  A single end table and one wooden chair remained, plus whatever was stored away in the attic, if renters hadn’t breached the lock, anyway.

  Lane came through the front door and pulled off his leather gloves. ”Will you be okay staying here alone tonight?”

  “You could come home with us and stay at the ranch for a few days,” Becca said with a smile. “We’ve got three guest rooms and it would be no bother at all. We’d love having you.”

  Overwhelmed by their kindness, she managed to shake her head. “No, but thanks anyway. I’ll be fine.”

  “Told you so,” Lane said under his breath, looking at his sister. “Just in case, we brought something you can use until you get settled. It’s a fold-away guest bed, never been used. Not sure how comfy it is, but it has to be better than sleeping on the floor.”

  He disappeared out the front door.

  “After I came back to Montana to take over our parents’ ranch, folks around here were just as helpful to me,” Becca said as she shouldered on her puffy down jacket. “Same when Lane came back to town last year to open his clinic. You might find yourself with all sorts of company and more ‘welcome to Salt Creek’ casseroles than you can possibly eat. I hope that fridge and freezer are working.”

  Kristen had plugged it in a couple hours and it had been humming ever since. “It seems to be—so far.”

  “So, what do you want to know about the town?” Becca pursed her lips. “Lots of touristy places are downtown. But for the locals, there’s a decent grocery store. Two gas stations. Decent mom & pop café. We actually have a medical clinic now, though the doc is only here on Mondays and Wednesdays, and otherwise there’s a nurse practitioner in the office. If you need some inexpensive, temporary furniture, there a nice consignment store twenty miles from here. And let’s see...”

  “Is there an animal shelter in town?”

  Becca glanced up from zipping her jacket and frowned. “Are you dropping off or adopting?”

  “I...I lost my old dog last spring, and it broke my heart. I just wasn’t ready to go looking. But now, well...” Kristen glanced around the dimly lit living room, the curtainless windows. “I think I’m ready to find a friend.”

  Becca’s expression cleared. “If you head north, there’s a small one about ten miles from here. Foothills Animal Rescue.”

  Lane blew in the front door burdened with the folding bed and a large carryall filled with blankets. “Becca tucked a set of sheets in the fold of the mattress, so you should be set for a while.”

  “Could you leave Tank here tonight, for a little company?” Becc
a pulled on a pair of gloves. “She’s going to look for one to adopt, but still...”

  “Really—that’s not necessary,” Kristen protested. “I’ll be fine.”

  But Lane had already spun on his heel and gone back outside.

  “Tank goes everywhere with him,” Becca murmured. “But tonight Lane left him inside the truck so he wouldn’t be in the way.”

  “All these hours?”

  “Goodness, no. That dog has been out in your yard to potty and run around more than he’s been sleeping in the truck. The entire yard is fenced in chain link, so he was safe.”

  The front door opened once again and a massive black and white spotted dog bounded in, skidded on the rug in the entryway, then galloped up to Becca and planted his forefeet on her shoulders for a slobbery kiss. After spinning in circles a few times, the shaggy creature loped around the living room sniffing the floor and following invisible trails only he could see. “What on earth is he?”

  Following his big galoot of a dog inside, Lane laughed. “Probably too many breeds to count.”

  “Lane thought about running a DNA on him, but decided Tank would rather ‘preserve his air of mystery,’” Becca said wryly. “As it is, there seems to be a running joke about his parentage between the clients at his clinic.”

  Tank disappeared around the corner and seconds later he erupted in fierce barking.

  Kristen felt her heartbeat stutter. Surely there’d be no intruders brazen enough to break in now, with the lights all blazing and extra adults in the house...could there? But what did she know about this area anymore? She remembered Salt Creek as the quintessential small town, but things could change.

  When Lane strode toward the deafening sound of Tank’s barking, she followed at his heels, through the parlor, dining room, and up the open staircase to the darkened second floor, her pulse hammering.

  The sound of barking stopped and toenails scrabbled down the hardwood floor of the hallway. Lane halted abruptly at the top of the stairs and she bumbled into him, losing her balance. Swaying, she flailed wildly for the banister but came up with only air as she started to topple backwards.

  A scream died in her throat when two strong hands grabbed her upper arms and pulled her to safety against Lane’s broad, hard-muscled chest. “Ooof!”

  He backed up and pivoted, holding her still for a moment as he searched her face. “Are you all right?”

  Tank lurched down the hall to throw himself against them both and Lane held her tighter for another moment, then released her well away from the yawning chasm of the stairwell.

  “Uh...sorry about that,” he murmured, his gaze still locked on hers. “He’s not usually this crazy.”

  “I...thank you.” Her arms still tingled where he’d held her, sending a rush of warmth into her cheeks and her pulse into overdrive. She managed an embarrassed little laugh. “That might’ve been my last trip down those stairs. Ever.”

  Tank danced around them, then took off down the hall, his nails slipping and sliding on the wood as if he were on ice skates. The second he disappeared into the farthest bedroom, he started barking again.

  “I’d better check this out before he has a stroke,” Lane said ruefully as he flipped on the hall light switch. “I was up here earlier hauling out the trash and didn’t see anything, so it’s probably just a dust bunny. But maybe you’d better stay here.”

  Kristen followed him anyway. At the doorway, Lane reached inside and turned on the light, then pushed the door wide open with the toe of his boot. A blast of cold air rushed into the hallway. Across the room, tattered curtains danced high on the breeze.

  It had appeared that the windows were all sealed shut with old, heavy coats of paint when she’d been up here earlier...

  But now they were wide open.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Tank sat quietly in front of the window, looking over his shoulder as Lane approached, clearly satisfied now that his guard duties had brought reinforcements. The room was empty, save for a metal bed frame in the corner. The other two upstairs bedrooms were the same.

  “I didn’t open that window,” Lane said quietly. “Did you?”

  Starkly illuminated by the harsh overhead light, Kristen’s lovely face paled, leaving a scattering of tiny freckles over her nose in sharp relief. He fought the urge to enfold her in his arms to offer comfort.

  “Nope. The only time I came upstairs today was when I did a quick run-through before I took Tucker out to the ranch. The windows were all closed tight and the whole upstairs smelled musty, like it had been closed up for a year. Which it had been. There sure didn’t seem to be anything of value lying around that could interest a thief.”

  “Agreed. Tonight I filled trash sacks with litter and junk from upstairs and tossed the three mattresses. There was nothing worth saving—I’m sure the past renters made certain of that. Anyway, if someone was going to break in, they would’ve been smarter to hit the place during the year it stood empty.”

  “Maybe they did, given that two windows are boarded up.” She bit her lower lip as she studied the window. “So why now—tonight—when there’s finally some activity in the house? Why risk getting caught?”

  “If you want to call Eric, he probably has records on how recently those other windows were broken.” Lane lifted his cell from his back jeans pocket. “While you do that, I can call the sheriff.”

  “But there wasn’t anything to steal, no vandalism,” Kristen protested, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. “So nothing is missing. The window wasn’t even damaged—just open.”

  “But if someone was trying to break in, maybe we scared them off. You want to make the sheriff aware of the situation, get it documented and have some patrol cars cruise by now and then. That alone could be a deterrent.”

  Kristen looked back at the window and sighed. “All right...I guess.”

  Lane tapped 911 into his phone, spoke to the dispatcher, then shoved the phone back in his pocket. “It’s a quiet night, and Carl Foster is here in town. He can stop by in a few minutes.”

  Footsteps came up the stairs, and Becca appeared at the door. “I’ve got the kitchen straightened up and took our cleaning supplies to the truck. What’s going on up here?”

  While Kristen texted Eric, Lane explained the situation. “So, I’m uneasy about heading for home before the deputy gets here.”

  Kristen shook her head. “You two don’t have to stay any later. The doors all have deadbolts—I checked that first thing. I’ve got my cell, and it’s charged. If you leave Tank overnight I’ll be perfectly fine.” She eyed the window. “Tomorrow, I’m going to start looking for a home security system and a dog of my own.”

  “We’re in no rush to get home,” Becca said firmly. “We’ll wait with you.”

  Kristen gave her a warm smile that was every bit as firm. “You’ve been here since six, and now it’s almost one in the morning. You’ve gone above and beyond already. How can I thank you enough?”

  At the sound of a vehicle pulling to a stop outside, they hurried downstairs and met Deputy Foster at the door. He toured the house, taking statements, then went outside to check the yard with his flashlight. When he finally came back inside, his cheeks and nose were rosy from the cold.

  “Too bad we don’t have any snow. Might’ve had tracks to follow.” He frowned, looking at his notes. “As it is, the ground is frozen too hard to reveal footprints or any evidence of a ladder at that window. It does look like it was pried open from the outside, though with the lights on downstairs and the three of you visible through those uncurtained windows, why would someone risk such a break-in? And for what? The house has been vacant a long while.”

  “Have any other problems been reported?” Kristen asked. “I was just wondering since a couple of windows have been boarded up.”

  “I checked, but there’ve been no records of any criminal complaints at this address, so I don’t have an explanation for those windows. You might want to check with the rental age
nt who managed the property after Mrs. Barnes moved out. He probably knows.” The deputy studied her over the top of his clipboard. “So Mrs. Barnes was your...”

  “Grandma Tilly. My mom grew up in this house, but she married in college and has lived in Minnesota ever since.”

  “And you’ll be in town for how long?”

  Kristen lifted a shoulder. “Not sure just yet. It hasn’t exactly been the best start, but I’m checking into security systems tomorrow and also want to find a nice, noisy dog. In the meantime, Lane is loaning me Tank.”

  Massive as a sofa, Tank sidled up to her and leaned against her leg as if to confirm the plan, his tail sweeping the floor and his tongue lolling out of his mouth. The deputy looked down at the woolly dog and snorted. “Young lady like you needs more than a carpet on legs. The county doesn’t always have deputies close by, so it can take some time to answer 911 calls. Always lock the doors and windows. Keep your front and back porch lights on. Leave some interior lights on too, even if you’re out for the evening. I’ll write this call up with the recommendation that we cruise by your house at night whenever we can—at least a couple times a week.”

  After the deputy left, Becca headed for the door as well, but every protective fiber of Lane’s being ordered him to stay put and not leave Kristen alone in this rambling old house.

  She was having none of it.

  “Go—both of you. Over half the night is gone and you must be exhausted. You need to get home.” She looked weary herself when she leaned into Becca for a grateful hug, hesitated, then rested her hand on Lane’s arm and looked up at him, her green eyes warm with emotion. “Thank you—for everything. You’ve both been such a blessing today.”

  He’d rather have had the hug she’d given to Becca, preferably longer and even more heartfelt, but he corralled those wayward wishes along with the others that had been sneaking into his thoughts today. What was he thinking? He barely knew her. She was clearly a classy city girl whom he suspected might have a sad and difficult situation lurking in her past—one that precluded any sort of interest in connecting with someone with unbreakable ties to this part of Montana. But still...