Christmas in Cowboy Country Read Free Page A

flipping the dish towel over her shoulder. “What’s the matter?”
    â€œI promised Nell Dighton that I’d bring her these forms for the Christmas fund-raiser and I completely forgot. She needs them tonight.”
    â€œI’ll take them to her,” Annie offered.
    â€œBut you already drove to the big supermarket and back.”
    â€œIt felt good to get out. Besides, Velde is a lot closer. And I don’t feel like watching TV or reading.”
    â€œAre you sure?”
    Annie hung up the dish towel neatly. “Hand ’em over. Be back in a flash.”
    Â 
    Â 
    Annie switched off the radio in the truck before the sad song was over and clambered out as soon as she’d parked. The neon sign that marked the town’s vintage saloon glowed a cheerful red. The odd mood she’d fallen into on the short drive vanished.
    Annie pushed open the swinging doors, enjoying the authentic creak. Her boot heels clunked pleasantly on the old plank floor of the entryway, which led to the saloon’s real doors. Handsomely framed and made of weatherized glass, they offered a glimpse of the climate-controlled interior, which she knew was nice and cozy.
    Old and new. That was her little hometown all over. The proprietress, Nell Dighton, had been her high-school English teacher before she’d retired and bought the saloon several years ago. Which was why Annie never met any of her dates here. But she loved the place.
    Annie still hesitated to call Nell by her first name. In Annie’s mind, she was still Mrs. Dighton and would always be Mrs. Dighton, a widow and pillar of the community, plus a real stickler for good grammar and proper language. Though that seemed to be changing. Maybe the influence of her grown son Harold had done that. The two of them were close and he liked to tease her when she lost her temper in public and burst out in not-so-proper language.
    Like right now.
    Nell seemed to be locked in the storage closet, judging by the unladylike curses issuing from behind its closed door.
    Annie walked that way and put a hand on the doorknob, noticing the door wasn’t really shut just as Nell backed out of it, her arms piled high with miscellaneous boxes marked Xmas and Fragile and Don’t Peek . On the very top of the pile was a small box with a big question mark on the side.
    â€œLet me help you,” Annie said, laughing.
    â€œOh, goodness. Thanks.” Nell blew the dust off the top box. “There’s just so much stuff. Decorations, garlands, ornaments—I didn’t sort it out before I put it away in January. But I do know that bottom one has the lights. I wanted to test them.”
    â€œGood idea to get an early start.” Annie relieved Nell of some of her burden, settling several boxes on a round table by the piano.
    â€œWell, yes. Whew. But if I don’t have everything I need and have to shop for something, the sales start before Thanksgiving nowadays. I do want to be ready.” Nell looked curiously at her, as if she’d just realized that Annie didn’t often come in at night. “What brings you here at this hour?”
    â€œMy mom forgot to give you the fund-raising forms. And—oh, heck. I just forgot to bring them in. They’re out in my truck.”
    Annie wasn’t usually so absentminded. Brooding about her nonexistent love life on a lonely road with country music on the radio was never a good idea. But Nell Dighton was the forgiving type.
    â€œThat’s great. I was about to call her.”
    â€œWell, before I bring them home again, let me go get ’em.”
    â€œYou do that. Thanks, honey.”
    When Annie came back in, Nell was still checking out the various boxes. She lifted a half-crushed lid and peered inside. “There are the lights. Got a minute to help me straighten them out?”
    â€œSure.”
    Annie reached in and drew out a complicated tangle of dark green wires and big fat Christmas