The Map Home (Collier’s Creek Christmas)

Chapter 6

SIX

Tad

Dakota continued to cough violently. Tad figured his face was probably bright red too, but with the flickering firelight, it was impossible to tell. He whacked Dakota on the back while leaning close again and whispering, “Sorry.”

But he wasn’t. He’d meant every word; he’d marry Dakota in a flash if he’d have him. But marrying Dakota would remain Tad’s fantasy as long as Dakota continued to deny his feelings, the feelings Tad knew he had. Well, was pretty sure. Then a thought struck him. Maybe Dakota didn’t want to get married for reasons that had nothing to with secret feelings? Dammit.

Tad frowned, irritated by his train wreck of thoughts. He’d even grown a mustache so he’d look older. Baby face was not a compliment when one guy was trying to get another guy’s attention. So far, all Dakota had said was, “Nice ’stache.”

“It’s just that Mom’s going to be on my case about the state of my life forever.”

Still coughing, but less dramatically now, Dakota waved him off. Tad glanced around to see that no one was paying attention to them. His mom was standing next to Boone, one hand on his shoulder, probably talking about wedding stuff already. Kit, Burl, Larry, and his dad were shoulder to shoulder a few feet away, and Tad guessed they were talking stock, horses, and which meadows they needed to check.

He forced himself to keep talking to Dakota and decided it was time to change the subject. He definitely wasn’t taking back what he’d said. “Guess what else happened Wednesday night? Curtis Lewis slipped on ice on his way home from Jake’s. Broke his leg.”

“Oh, crap.” Dakota frowned, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. “That’s terrible. That must be what Geraldine was talking about. She heard the sirens.”

Tad nodded. “Yeah,” Tad nodded. “Yeah, it’s bad. I stopped by the hospital to check on him. He was supposed to have surgery today, I think, and he’s asked me to cover for him at The Chronicle while he rehabs.”

“Whoa.” Dakota’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s good, right? Not good that Lewis is hurt, but you get a chance to really prove yourself.”

“Yeah.” Tad laughed quietly. “He and Honey Sweeting hate each other. He’s afraid if he’s gone too long, she’ll get her claws into everything.”

“But Curtis owns the paper, doesn’t he?”

“Yup, but it turns out Honey is a minor partner, so she has some say. Maybe he has a good reason to be worried? Honey is a force to be reckoned with—and not always in a good way.”

Tad was almost positive Honey made up most of the letters for her advice column because she was a shit-stirrer. When anyone—Curtis Lewis—tried to call her on the questionable content, she’d claim freedom of the press. He doubted that applied to gossip columns. It wasn’t as if she was reporting the news, and there was this thing called slander, after all. But what did Tad know?

Tad had been lucky to intern with Lewis at the local newspaper while finishing up his journalism degree instead of having to take a position somewhere else like Jackson or even Cheyenne. And Curtis was a good person to learn from. Even better, Tad and Honey had mutually agreed to pretend the other didn’t exist.

“I bet he’s glad you can step in. You said yes, right?”

“Of course I did. It won’t be for too long though. Just until Curtis is mobile again. Through New Year’s, he thinks, but I think it will be longer.”

“Cool, cool.”

“It means I have to go into town first thing tomorrow because I’m covering the craft fair and tree lighting. My first legit story—‘Collier’s Creek Tree Lighting Goes Up In Smoke.’ Well,” Tad added, chuckling, “hopefully not that, but I do hope something interesting happens.”

“Dude, careful what you wish for. Interesting times and all that.” Dakota sipped at what was left of his drink.

Tad stared back at him, wishing more than anything that he could lick the moisture that remained behind off of Dakota’s lips. Gah . But he couldn’t that, and not just because his whole family was sitting close by talking about premium cattle feed or, in Boone’s case, his fiancé. From almost the time they’d met, Dakota had friend-zoned Tad so hard that if Tad had been a football player, he wouldn’t have been able to see the goalposts from where he was on the field. Maybe he was in the nosebleed seats.

“What are you two talking about over here?” his mom asked, coming to stand next to Tad. All innocent, as if she hadn’t been doing her best to eavesdrop.

“The tree lighting and fair tomorrow,” Tad said quickly.

“It’s going to be so much fun this year!” his mom gushed. “I’m so excited.”

“Mom, it’ll be the same as every year,” he said, rolling his eyes dramatically. “There’ll be the speech, and then at dusk, the mayor or his ‘celebrity guest’ will flip the switch and the tree will light up. Whoop.”

Secretly, Tad loved this time of year, especially when the Christmas tree showed up in the town square. At night, the whole area lit up with a soft glow from the thousands of lights wrapped around it. It was too easy for him to imagine an alternate universe where he and Kota were together, maybe walking hand in hand, all wrapped up in heavy coats and scarves, with just their noses and eyes showing. If it was late, maybe he’d be brave and kiss Kota.

“Don’t be so grinchy,” Penny scoffed, interrupting his little fantasy. “Many of the local businesses will have booths out on the sidewalk, and there are tons of independent crafters too, more than we’ve had in the past. This year, there’ll be a beer garden on one side of the square and an outside speakeasy sponsored by Odette’s on the other. We’re going to go into town for the day and then get the decorations up at the house later.”

Odette’s was a new European-style bar in town. The owner had found old-fashioned French posters to hang on the exposed brick walls of the building’s interior. The food was supposed to be great and the atmosphere was laid-back but still classy. Sometimes on the weekends they even had live jazz. At first, some of the old-timers had pronounced it too fancy, but they’d quickly changed their minds.

Penny kept her finger on the pulse of Collier’s Creek, and she was a huge fan of the new bar with its art nouveau posters, funky artwork, and, from what Tad had heard, excellent food.

“Great,” he heard Dakota mutter, “booze on both ends of the event guarantees chaos.”

“I heard they’re saving the beer garden for the Holiday Bash,” Tad offered.

The Bash was the last Saturday before Christmas and, in Tad’s opinion, was really just a way for all the perennially late shoppers to go to one spot in town and buy everything at the last minute. Or maybe it was tradition, and the last-minute folks liked the endorphin rush they got while panic-shopping.

Penny ignored both observations. “Plus, the Kids-In-Need program will be kicking off with donations from you know who!” She grinned and pointed at herself. “Dad and I bought a whole bunch of special stuffed bears this year. They have cowboy hats on their heads, little boots on their feet, and are hugging a little bear of their own.” His mom sighed dramatically. “They almost makes me wish you and Boonie still liked that sort of thing.”

“That’s nice of you, Mrs. G,” Dakota said diplomatically. “Kids will love those.”

Tad opened his mouth to tell his mom about Curtis being in the hospital. But at that moment, a log popped loudly and sent sparks up into the sky. Most everyone stopped talking to watch them, so they all heard Burl say, “—heard the other day.”

“Oh, dear,” said Penny, while Waylon, Kit, Boone, and Larry all exploded into variations of “What the fuck?” as well as, “That is not fucking happening.” His mom didn’t even give the older men a hard time for bad language.

“What’s going on?” Tad asked Waylon.

“I didn’t want to say anything about it tonight, but”—Waylon sighed, looking around at everyone—“Burl and Nash have heard a rumor that some developer wants to build a housing development on the plateau between our land and the Simpsons.”

“Shit, really? How did that happen? And this is the first we’re hearing of it?” Dakota asked. “I thought there was all sorts of environmental stuff that needed to happen first?”

“There is,” Penny said hotly. “But this jerk thinks he can convince someone in the county or state government—or both— that he’s got a great plan. We don’t know how he got ahold of the land either. There was a dispute over his will after Carter Pickering passed away, and as far as we knew, it hadn’t been settled yet. Guess we were wrong.”

“This is terrible news,” Tad said quietly.

“This is bullshit!” Boone was insisting. “We’ll fight it. We all know there’s just not enough water to support another damn housing development.”

Shocked, Tad stared at Boone. It was always mildly surprising when his brother’s brain cells came online.

“Of course we’ll fight it, Boone,” Burl assured him. “It’s just going to be long and ugly, and someone needs to keep tabs on Kline because he might pull a fast one. That’s probably how he got the land in the first place—if he really has it.”

“It’s not Kline we need to worry about,” said Larry. “It’s the politicians who say one thing and do another. Those guys in Cheyenne, they don’t care about anything but their wallets.”

“Alright, boys,” Penny interjected before Burl and Larry could get into it. “Now that you’ve ruined my end-of-year bonfire with real-life news, can we get back to the regular programming? This is a no-argument zone.”

“Unless it’s you and Dad,” Tad pointed out. “And FYI, there is no regular programming. It’s all streaming these days.”

“You know exactly what I mean, smart ass. And the two of us arguing,” his mother said with a cocky grin, “is our own special love language. Doesn’t count. Now, who’s ready for another cocktail?”

There was a chorus of I am and yes please and me first . Shaking her head but obviously pleased, Penny turned her attention to the makeshift bar and began taking requests.

Beside him, Dakota was watching and listening to the various conversations. That was such a Dakota thing. He was generally quiet around most everyone, with the exception of Tad, as if one of the lessons life had taught him was to observe first and ask questions later—maybe. Truthfully, it had been.

“So anyway,” Tad said to Dakota, “I’m going into The Chronicle’s building early tomorrow to make sure that Curtis’s passwords and all that haven’t been messed with. I’d like to think he’s just being paranoid, but I don’t like Honey much either.”

“I’m pulling a double,” Dakota said. “Everyone is. Sheriff Morgan is twitchy about the fair and the tree lighting. He’s sure something will happen.”

As far as Tad knew, the annual tree lighting ceremony had generally been trouble-free but, he supposed, there was always a first time.

“Hopefully, it will just be the lights turning on and everyone oohing and aahing.”

“Yeah, hopefully.” Dakota tipped the last of his drink back and licked the last of the rum off his lips. Was he trying to kill Tad? “I’m gonna take off. Are you staying with your folks?”

Tad nodded as he attempted to adjust himself and recover from imagining Dakota’s tongue sliding across his lips. “Be careful driving into town. That highway is fucking slick.”

“As if I didn’t know that,” Dakota retorted.

After sitting around the fire until late and arguing with Boone about which John Wick movie was the best—obviously, the first one was the only right answer—Tad headed to his childhood bedroom.

Did he wish Dakota was there with him? Yes, he did.

Dakota Green had appeared in Tad’s life when he was almost fifteen years old and had changed it forever. After watching and, unfortunately, listening to his brother woo every eligible girl in the area, Tad had begun to wonder if he was attracted to men instead of women. Girls just did nothing for him.

Then Dakota had showed up at the ranch and a teenaged Tad had his answer. He’d thought he’d done a pretty good job hiding his attraction and just focusing on being a friend, because even adolescent Tad had recognized that Dakota needed a friend more than anything else.

But his mom figured him out pretty fast. Penny Gillespie was nobody’s fool. After a mortifying conversation about safe sex and other things that Tad had had to scrub from his memory banks, his mom had hugged him and said, “Your dad and I have suspected for a while now, Tad. We both love you so much, and we just want you to be happy.” Almost as an afterthought, she’d added, “Dakota seems like a nice boy. He has a lot going on in his life though.”

To this day, Tad continued to thank the entire universe that his dad had chosen to let Penny do the talking. Although his dad had given Tad a manly fist bump the next time he’d seen him. Equally embarrassing.

The next morning, Tad woke up earlier than he’d expected to, low-key excited for the tree lighting and whatever else the day brought him. He got to be a journalist today, even if it was covering an event in his own tiny hometown. Who knew, maybe he’d see it differently covering it as a reporter.

He showered, dressed, kissed his mom, hugged his dad, and headed out to the farm truck he’d inherited from his dad—via Boone, of course. Supposedly, Boone was popping the question to Amanda today, or this weekend anyway. Tad had to admit that regardless of his stupid “married at thirty” comment last night, he was glad not to be the center of his parents’ attention at the breakfast table. Ha, ha on Boone.

“I’ll see you later!” his mom called out the open front door. “Dad and I are bringing the teddy bears in and dropping them at the tree, then we’re having a quick drink at Odette’s.”

“Have fun. See ya later, Mom.”

Tad was tempted to text Dakota before he headed in but decided against it. Dakota didn’t need Tad bugging him when he was working. Instead, he started the engine and called Curtis on speaker, doubting the older man would be asleep, surgery or not.

As expected, Curtis answered immediately with a gruff, “Morning, Tad.”

“Heya, Curtis. How’re you feeling today?”

“Like somebody ran me over, backed up, and ran me over again. I still don’t know how I slipped. I’ve walked that sidewalk a million times, could do it in my sleep. And yet, here I am, held together with pins and wrapped in cotton.” Curtis sounded pissed off, which Tad could totally understand.

“Dang. Is there anything more I can do?” Tad maneuvered the truck onto the highway. The snow had stopped falling and the snowplows and had already been through clearing away the white stuff followed by the gritters spreading sand and salt in their wake.

“You’re already doing the most important thing,” Curtis said. “Cover any stories, big or small. Make sure to interview some cute little kids for the tree lighting, they’re aways fun and the parent almost always okays it. Keep an eye on Honey if you can. This is the one time I’m glad the paper is a weekly and not a daily. By the time you’re ready to lay out the front page for next Wednesday, I should be able to take a look at it.”

“Of course. When are they letting you out of there?”

“Bastard doctors claim I can’t take care of myself. I’m being forced to go to the recovery facility.”

“You do live alone, Curtis,” Tad pointed out. “I’d rather you healed up and not fall again. I bet as soon as you can do the important things on your own, they’ll let you go home. It’s probably just a few days.”

They both knew it was probably longer; the docs had already said Curtis couldn’t put weight on his leg for twelve weeks. But once he was handy on crutches, Tad figured they’d probably let him go home.

“Yeah, yeah,” Curtis grumbled.

Tad knew this road like the back of his hand, but he was still driving slow and keeping an eye out for icy spots. Carefully taking the sharp curve around a wide valley blanketed by fresh snow, he spotted a herd of elk off in the distance moving across a meadow. The huge animals never failed to amaze him.

“I was thinking about interviewing a few of the crafters and the owners of Odette’s too.”

“That sounds good to me.”

He was about to say goodbye when a thought struck him. “Hey, Curtis, what do you know about possible construction out near my folks’ spread?”

Curtis’s eyes narrowed and his expression dark. “It’s fucking Peter Kline, isn’t it? I knew he was up to something.” Curtis spat the name out like it tasted bad in his mouth.

“What’s his deal?” Tad asked.

“I suspect he’s a fast-talk-no-substance kind of guy. Unfortunately,” Curtis continued, “some people on the county council are interested in his snake oil. Easy money, they think. He’s been glad-handing, making opaque promises about more housing—which, yes, we need—but I think what he’s really talking about is an upscale development. Which is not what Collier’s Creek needs.”

“Fuckery. I guess his company just got preliminary approval.” This was not good. He’d hoped the news last night had been an exaggeration.

“I know he’s not from around here. Came from California.” Curtis made California sound like hell on earth. “Where is this land he’s hoping to pillage?”

“He supposedly snagged those fifty acres on the plateau between my folks’ place and Twisted Pine, the old Pickering place.”

“What?” Curtis sounded outraged. “That’s horseshit. Carter Pickering never wanted that. Screw ’em. How the hell did Kline get his hands on that land? That’s my first question. That part of the valley is heavily protected. That story about water rights I mentioned? I’d been planning on spreading it out over a few weeks—god damn snow and ice. The environmental protections list takes years for developers to get them all ticked off, if ever. And, if the will hasn’t been settled yet, how can he own it?”

“How about I poke around? Maybe we can add to your piece, find out a little more about Kline.” Tad knew Curtis wouldn’t be able to say no to the suggestion. It was probably a good thing Tad had brought it up; Curtis would now have something to do while he was recuperating from his accident.

“Damn right. We’re gonna dig deep and make sure everything about the deal is on the up and up. Or stop it from happening.”

“ I’m going to do the investigating,” Tad emphasized. “ You are going to recover.” There was no way Curtis could stay away from the story, but Tad would be able to do the legwork.

“I hate this.”

Tad could tell from his tone that Curtis was scowling.

“After the tree lighting, I’ll get started on the story and keep you updated.”

“Call me the minute you find something. And, Tad?”

“Yeah?”

“Watch your step. You never know who doesn’t want a journalist sniffing around.”

Ending the call, Tad wondered if someone else maybe hadn’t wanted an older newspaperman sniffing around. What if Curtis’s fall hadn’t been the accident they thought it was?

Tad parked his truck in the alley behind Cooper Ellis’s leatherworks store. Parking was bound to be at a premium today since it seemed like everybody in the county was coming into town for the festivities.

Hitching the backpack with his camera lenses and other equipment tucked inside it onto his shoulder, Tad walked over to the town square, figuring he’d slowly make his way around to the tree and then back up the other side. His favorite camera hung from a strap around his neck, and as he strolled along, enjoying the decorations and scent of pine in the air, he took candid shots of the folks milling around.

Officially, the craft market opened at ten, but there were already dozens of curious shoppers. Some vendors were still setting up and decorating their stalls, and there was an excited hustle and bustle in the air. After checking with their mom, he snapped an especially adorable photo of two little girls admiring the antique wooden sleigh set up near the tree.

Santa was nowhere to be seen, but his bag had been left enticingly open, and the girls were trying to guess what the wrapped gifts were and who they might be for.

“Nothing for Brody,” said the taller of the two. “He fed his dinner to the cat last night, and Mom stepped right in it this morning.”

“Gross!”

“She said the F word too. Maybe she won’t get anything from Santa either?”

Hearing the exchange, the mom rolled her eyes. “Kids don’t let you get away with anything.”

All Tad wanted from Santa was a tall, quiet, sheriff’s deputy with a wicked sense of humor that almost no one but Tad got to experience, who also—inexplicably—loved sausage, onion, black olives, and spicy salami on his pizza. Tad hated black olives with his entire heart. But he didn’t think he was going to get what he wanted, either.

The temperatures were cold, but the sky was clear and the city had cleared the streets of last night’s snow, making it safer for pedestrians and drivers. Holiday music played from one of the stores, adding even more holiday cheer—Tad loved it. This was his favorite time of year. Even better than Jingle Bells filling the air, Tad saw that CCs Coffee was open, although there was a long line. He needed a massive dose of caffeine but decided to wait until the line went down.

As he wandered along the square, he mentally picked out the spots he wanted to return to once more people had arrived. He also wondered if he’d run into Dakota doing his rounds—he hoped so.

Unfortunately, it was Curtis’s archnemesis, Honey Sweeting, who Tad spotted around the corner from Ellis Books. She appeared to be in a deep discussion with a dark-haired man he didn’t immediately recognize. Curiosity getting the better of him, Tad lifted his camera mid-chest and took a couple quick shots.

Honey didn’t notice Tad, but the man she was talking to possibly had. Darting a hard glance in Tad’s direction, he took off, walking quickly in the other direction. Tad stepped back, pretending to look at the selection of holiday books on display. A few seconds later, Honey came around the corner. Her pace slowed when she saw him, but she didn’t acknowledge him. Tad watched her reflection in the window as she made her way toward The Chronicle’s building.

What the hell was Honey Sweeting up to?