The Map Home (Collier’s Creek Christmas)

Chapter 5

FIVE

Dakota

Black Friday, Dakota thought grimly as he slowed to barely a crawl, keeping his truck from sliding off the road into the dark canyon to his right, is the perfect name for this day.

Between the Last Puppy In The Shop face from Tad and then from Tad’s mom, Penny—Tad had learned from a maestro—Dakota had officially caved and agreed to the bonfire. Saying no to both of them was impossible.

“You’re like an adopted son, you know that, and the brother Tad loves best. Not that he doesn’t love Boone,” she added, always the loyal mom. “But Boone and Tad are as different as apple pie and New York cheesecake.”

She welcomed Dakota with one comment and warned him off with the other. Reminding him that he wasn’t blood. Penny didn’t have a mean bone in her body, but her words were a reminder that he was the outsider, and Dakota couldn’t help but think that, when she used the word son, it was just Penny being nice.

What would she do if she suspected Dakota’s hidden feelings? He didn’t want to find out. He’d rather be Tad’s friend forever than risk losing the only people he considered family. Niall Hamarsson was too new to his life to trust that he’d stay. Dakota glared out the windshield at the falling snow as if it was to blame for the fact that he wanted Tad and couldn’t have him.

The truck powered its way up the two-lane highway outside of Collier’s Creek toward the Gillespie ranch. Dakota was later than he’d planned due to a series of accidents in town, this time involving cars loaded down with shopping bags stuffed full of gifts and drivers who’d taken corners too fast or were just not paying attention. Only bumps and bruises, thankfully, but he’d had to fill out dreaded paperwork.

Dakota’s phone, safely tucked away in his coat pocket, buzzed and vibrated against his ribs. He didn’t need to look at it to know who was texting him.

Another text came through just as Dakota turned onto the gravel driveway leading up to Waylon and Penny Gillespie’s home. Again, he ignored it. Soon enough, Tad would know he’d arrived.

Elbowing the door of his beat-up truck open, Dakota hopped out. His boots crunched hard against the gravel and snow covering the frozen ground. Night came early in the late Wyoming fall, making it easy to see the crackling bonfire in the distance.

Straightening his shoulders and pulling his cap further down over his ears, Dakota slammed the truck door shut. The sound echoed across the parking area.

“Why did I agree to this?” Dakota muttered, but he knew full well why and for whom. Those damn puppy eyes.

Tromping across the snowy ground, Dakota went through the rest of the mental list he’d made of things to remember for the evening. Admittedly, his list was mostly filled with reasons not to get sucked in to an argument with Boone. The first was deceptively simple: Do not argue over song lyrics. Boone still insisted it was “kiss this guy.” Sorry, Hendrix .

Additionally, Dakota’d made a little bet with himself over how long it would be before Boone asked Dakota if he’d shot anyone yet. He was estimating five minutes. Boone thought he was very funny. He was not.

Slowing his pace, Dakota sucked in a deep breath. He’d been preparing himself the entire drive from town—really, ever since Penny called last night. The Gillespies were a lot, and Dakota owed them everything. And he cared for all of them—maybe not Boone as much—which, frankly, made things even more complicated.

Dakota did not like complicated.

Dragging in one last lungful of oxygen, Dakota emerged from the shadows and into the dancing firelight.

“There you are!” exclaimed Tad. He’d obviously been keeping an eye out and clearly had already downed a few of the Gillespie special cocktails. Waylon and Penny made them strong. Based on past experience, Dakota would have to sneakily dump every other one out or commit to staying the night.

He reminded himself he wasn’t staying the night.

“I’m here.” Dakota spread his hands. “Just like I said I would be.” After two days, Tad was a sight for sore eyes, even if he still had that damn mustache hanging around on his upper lip.

“I saved you a seat.” Tad patted the vacant folding camp chair next to his.

“Evening, Kota,” Waylon greeted him with an easy smile.

“Evening, Kota,” was repeated by grizzled Burl Montgomery, the cook for Twisted Pine. Next to him was Kit Larson, the local veterinarian. The two men looked cozy and not for the first time Dakota wondered if they were a couple, or if they were poly with Robin, the owner of Twisted Pine—not that it mattered, or was any of his business. Most people deserved to be happy. Kit nodded and waved vaguely his direction with the hand not wrapped protectively around a tin mug filled to the brim with liquid.

Oh yeah, he could already tell the drinks were extra strong tonight.

“There’s hot buttered rum over there,” Tad said, “and some toddy makings too.”

Penny jumped up from her spot next to the stack of chopped wood to wrap Dakota in a tight embrace. Dakota squeezed her back; it was impossible not to. She smelled like wood smoke and pine needles.

“It’s so good to see you, Dakota,” she said. “Let me make you a drink.”

“You just saw him in town a few days ago,” grumbled Waylon.

“That’s different. This is family, not the Seed and Feed. Were you giving Marcus Jones a ticket? He is a terrible driver,” Penny asked. “Do you want a whiskey, or a hot buttered rum?”

“Let the boy answer at least one of your questions before you ask another,” Larry Beddam said. Larry was Penny’s younger brother and also part owner of the ranch. The two of them had bought out their two younger sisters, who loved the ranch but didn’t want to run it, years ago. “A person can’t get a word in edgewise around here.”

Penny laughed and swatted her brother. “Edgewise, that’s such a silly saying. Word? What do you want to drink, Dakota?”

“A hot buttered rum sounds good.” He’d have one and pour out the others that would be pressed into his hand.

While the siblings teased each other, Dakota took the spot next to Tad. He unbuttoned his jacket but didn’t take it off. The key to sitting around a massive fire was keeping your back warm without roasting your front. It was an art, one he’d perfected during his years living on the ranch and hadn’t forgotten after he’d moved to town.

Tad scooted his chair close enough to Dakota that their shoulders pressed together.

“You showed up!” Tad whispered, not at all quietly.

“As if I’d ever hear the end of it if I didn’t,” Dakota replied, accepting the mug of rum with a tiny bit of hit batter floating in it from Penny. He carefully sipped it. “Jeez, Mrs. G, we aren’t pirates. This is almost pure rum.”

Penny laughed as she made her way back to her spot. “Pirate cowboys! That sounds like a book I need to read.”

“I’m going to have to build you a new bookcase,” Waylon fake-grumbled.

Everyone knew that Waylon would do anything in the world for Penny. It was a little depressing for Dakota to spend time around the Gillespie family, even though they didn’t purposefully try to make him feel like the odd man out. What did he have to offer them? He wasn’t a carpenter or rancher. He’d been forced on them by a mother who’d left him there when he was barely fourteen. They’d taken him in when they could have called Child Protective Services and let the state take care of everything. Dakota could never allow himself to forget how much he owed them.

“That’s true love for ya,” Penny said with a happy sigh. “A new bookcase. I knew I got the best one. Dakota, you just missed Nash and Max, so nice to catch up with them. Robin was here for a bit too.”

“They escaped, you mean,” muttered Dakota. Beside him, Tad snickered. Max Stone was a nice guy, but Nash Vigil, his partner, was on the surly side. Dakota figured that it had been Max who wanted to join the year-end celebration and Nash had reluctantly obliged. Max must make Nash happy, because before they got together, he rarely accepted invitations for social events.

Waylon stood up and tossed a few more logs onto the fire before returning to sit next to Penny. Wrapping one arm around her shoulders, he hugged her close to him. She smiled up at her husband, and Dakota felt the familiar pinch of longing.

Across from him, Kit’s and Burl’s heads were now close together. Whatever they were talking about seemed intense, but he couldn’t hear anything over the crackle of the flames. He didn’t know them well, but he liked both men. He was oddly fascinated by the ease they navigated their world. They were what Penny called gentle giants, the types who wouldn’t hurt a fly—unless a person threatened someone close to them. They were also in their sixties, so perhaps less giant than they used to be.

The fire snapped and licked its way across the fresh fuel. Sparks flew and popped up toward the dark night sky; some drifted back down slowly, some shot up like wayward comets and disappearing from view.

It had stopped snowing, for now anyway. A few clouds remained, a hint they might have more where that came from. Dakota squinted, looking up at the stars, but it was hard to see any but the brightest of them with the firelight blazing.

“Hey, everybody. Dakota,” a familiar voice said from outside the ring of light.

It really had been too much to hope that Boone had also already left the party.

“Boone,” Dakota said, lifting his chin in Boone’s general direction.

When Waylon and Penny retired, Boone was supposed to take over and run the ranch with his uncle. As long as he didn’t get taken in by some scammer selling a bridge in Brooklyn or something like that before then, Dakota thought darkly. Luckily, it didn’t seem as if Waylon or Penny were anywhere close to retiring. Larry was only one person, and it took at least two to keep Boone in line.

Ages ago, when Dakota had asked Tad if he was jealous of his brother, Tad had insisted that he didn’t want to run the ranch. He was perfectly happy with Boone being in the spotlight. But sometimes, when Boone was being especially annoying, Dakota wondered if Tad regretted being secondborn.

“I hear you’re a sheriff’s deputy now.”

That was Boone, master of stating the obvious.

“Yep.” Dakota sounded the ‘p’ with a definitive pop before taking a sip of the hot rum drink. “Ended my probationary period a few months ago.”

“Nice. Shoot anybody yet?”

Dakota repressed a groan. Later on, he’d tell Tad about his little bet and how he’d lost to himself because he’d estimated it would take Boone at least a few minutes to ask him that question, not less than sixty seconds.

Tad elbowed Dakota in the ribs, almost falling out of his chair in the process. Dakota rolled his eyes and didn’t answer. Instead, he threw his arm across Tad’s chest and pinned him to the camp chair so he didn’t end up in the fire pit.

“Seriously? Boone, you are such an idiot. Sometimes I wonder if you really are my brother. Of course Dakota hasn’t shot anyone!” Tad huffed once he was stable again. “Furthermore, most police and deputies go their entire careers without ever drawing their weapon, much less shooting anyone.”

“Really?” Boone stroked his thick beard in a way he probably thought made him look smart. Maybe that’s where Tad had gotten the idea of a mustache from, although why Tad would trust any choice Boone made, Dakota couldn’t begin to understand. “Huh, that’s something you’d know, newsboy.”

“Screw off, Boone. Dakota’s already solved a case too.”

“Tad…” Dakota said in a warning tone.

“Well, you have. Admit it. If you hadn’t spotted Mike and Sam Treadle lurking around the town square last week, clearly up to no good, they would have gotten away with stealing the lights for the tree lighting.”

Larry barked a laugh. “They thought they were stealing copper wire and would be able to resell it for fast cash. Fucking idiots.”

The curse of a small town was that just about everyone knew the details of stuff they shouldn’t, and sometimes they all knew before law enforcement could even flip on the red and blues.

“Those two need a keeper,” Burl interjected. “Been in trouble since the day they learned to walk.”

“I heard Nick and Jordan have been getting in a fuckton of trouble lately, too,” Tad added.

“Tad,” admonished Penny.

“I think you mean only Jordan. Nick Levine is usually more levelheaded—so says Sheriff Morgan anyway,” Dakota said.

That whole group of friends was up to no good constantly. Low-grade pranks and a lot of alcohol for the most part. Dakota had heard Sheriff Morgan complain more than once that he hadn’t hired another new deputy just to follow them around.

“Do you want hot buttered rum or a hot toddy?” Waylon asked his eldest.

Boone cocked his head toward Tad and his hot rum drink. “One of those.”

“Anyway, Dakota’s achievement is more than nice. It’s great,” Tad said fiercely, bringing the conversation back around. “Dakota worked really hard to get where he is. Sheriff Morgan didn’t have to hire him, there were other qualified applicants. But Dakota was the best.”

Dakota rolled his eyes at Tad’s words even as he secretly enjoyed the praise. He’d worked his ass off and was proud of landing the deputy position. He hadn’t known there were others up for the job—Tad had his ways of ferreting out this kind of information. He still could be a pity hire, but odds were that Sheriff Morgan believed he was the right person. Dakota had to admit that he didn’t see him handing out jobs because he felt sorry for someone. It still felt weird, like he was wearing someone else’s clothes though.

“Here’s your drink, son,” said Waylon. “Pull up a chair and sit down.”

Boone stepped into the firelight to accept the mug from his dad. He didn’t sit down though, just continued to stand and shift his weight from one foot to the other.

He was nervous, Dakota realized. What the hell had Boone done now?

“Sit down already,” said Tad. “Your looming is making my neck hurt.”

“ImgonnaaskAmandatomarryme,” Boone blurted quickly, as if he was scared he wouldn’t get the words out otherwise.

“What?” asked Burl and Kit in unison. Their expressions matched just about everyone else’s around the fire.

“Say that again, son,” was Waylon’s response.

Dakota doubted that was humanly possible.

“Boone Warren Gillespie,” Penny exclaimed, jumping up from her seat, “you finally woke up and realized Amanda is the one for you! It’s about dang time!”

A chorus of congratulatory whoops exploded from everyone except Dakota. Yippee, Boone was getting married. Yee-Haw . Unsurprisingly, Penny hopped up from her chair again to give her eldest a big hug. That was Penny, a hugger.

Tad nudged him with his elbow, giving Dakota a reason to avert his eyes from the Boone lovefest.

“How long before Mom asks when I’m going to get hitched?” Tad asked out of the side of his mouth.

“Any minute now,” Dakota replied as he watched Penny with her oldest son.

As predicted, Penny turned from her oldest to face Tad. “Now we just need to get you settled, Tad.” She clapped her hands together in anticipation and gave a fake little shiver.

Dakota managed to not snort, but it took an incredible amount of self-control. What was it with parents wanting their children “settled”? Couldn’t kids just live their lives, grow up and do the thing? Probably he was a bit jaded. Ana leaving him behind at G-Bar to fend for himself was not every kid’s life experience. Who knew, maybe she’d hoped that Penny and Waylon would step in? Maybe Ana had recognized good people even if she couldn’t stop her own need to run away. Had she been doing the Ana Green version of trying to get him settled?

Fuck , this whole adult thing was tiring and complicated.

Tad threw his head back and groaned, bringing Dakota back to the matter at hand. “Ugh. Why me? I’m not a bank account, why do I need to be settled? Why can’t you just enjoy Boone’s news for two minutes? If Amanda says yes anyway,” he said with a laugh. “At least Amanda has a degree in accounting, so one of them knows how to do the books.”

“She’ll say yes. Well, I’m pretty sure,” Boone countered, already recovered from his rare bout of nerves and humanness. “We’ve talked about it, but I want to do it right.”

“Remember that you have Grandma Gillespie’s ring if you haven’t picked one out yet. She left it to you, after all.”

Boone protested, “ Mom , I’m not an idiot.”

Tad snorted again, leaning into Dakota, his chair tipping precariously again. “Did he just say that? Do we have a recording?”

Tad’s feelings had not been hurt about the ring going to Boone, he’d told Dakota. Tad’s Grandma Gillespie had bequeathed him her pristine antique Singer sewing machine and ten thousand dollars that he’d smartly stashed away in an investment account so he “wouldn’t spend it.” The ring didn’t matter—he’d been thrilled to get the sewing machine. He’d spent many long winter hours learning to sew from his grandma on that very machine. He knew how to repair clothing, fasten buttons and zippers, and once he’d made custom canvas bags for when he was out riding.

“Tad? Are you seeing anyone we don’t know about?” Trust Penny not to get sidetracked.

Tad shook his head and shot Dakota an undecipherable glance. “No, but Dakota and I made a pact a while back. If we aren’t married to someone else by the time we’re thirty, we’ll marry each other. It’s not like I don’t already know he snores and leaves his dirty socks around his apartment.”

Everyone started to laugh. Chuckling, Boone collapsed into the chair on the other side of his brother, as if the stress of announcing he was going to ask his girlfriend to marry him was too much and he deserved a rest. Burl and Kit eyed Dakota from across the flames, amusement in their gazes, and Larry slapped his thigh as if this was the funniest thing he’d ever heard.

Dakota, who’d been about to sip his hot buttered rum, inhaled the drink instead. The warm liquid burned down his esophagus, bringing tears to his eyes.

“Mother—holy,” he coughed. “Jesus, Tad, warn a guy, why don’t you?” he finally managed.