Page 1 of Must Love Mistletoe

Chapter One

Cal Casey easedhis pickup to a stop as the school bus slowed and came to a halt at the T-intersection of highway21 and Casey’s Lane. Didn’t bother Cal as far as traffic was concerned, because once he turned onto the highway, he’d be heading in the opposite direction to the bus. No, what gave him pause was that—far as he could tell—the driver had stopped the bus for absolutely no reason.

The only school-age kid in the valley these days was his neighbor’s son, and that kid was nowhere in sight. Which meant the boy was either sick, running late, or had decided schooling could wait—again.

How many times this semester had Sam decided that farm chores were more important than school learning? Had to be a dozen that Cal knew of and probably twice as many he didn’t. The fundamental problem being that Sam’s priorities were rarely wrong. A cattle trough with a burst water pipe did need fixin’. A broken fence needed mendin’. A mare who’d been struggling to put a foal on the ground for hours couldn’t just beleft. Straying cattle needed to go back where they belonged.

And with Red Evans presumed dead and gone these past few years and his widow Beth taking every extra nursing shift at the hospital in Marietta that she could get, who else was going to do the work that needed doing?

It wasn’t unheard of for ranching kids to do a solid day’s work. If Sam had been in his teens and strong and smart and capable, it might have worked out just fine, but no.

Samuel Calvin Evans wasten.

Putting his foot to the pedal, Cal cut in closer to the bus and lowered his window. The bus doors swung open with a hiss of hydraulics to reveal driver Jennie James.

“Rebecca Green called and said she left him here not five minutes ago,” Jennie called out. “Said she stayed over to look after Sam last night but her ma had a fall and she had to leave early, and Beth’s held up on the surgical team dealing with that fatal car accident on the I3.”

First he’d heard of any of that, but, yeah. Probably.

There were rules about leaving kids waiting alone for a school bus out in the middle of nowhere in winter. Cal had no beef with such rules. Protect the little children and all that. A mantra that currently appeared to be taking over hislife, which was weird given he had no kids or even a wife. “You get moving, Jen. I’ll find him and bring him in.”

“No offence, Cal, but you’re not his parent.”

“No, but I’m his neighbor and his godfather and there’s heifers heading up the pass and they shouldn’t be, and Sam’ll be going after them. Sooner I go get themall, the better.”

“Do me a favor and put your guardianship—or whatever it is—in writing with the school, okay? I need a paper trail saying that when I talk toyou, I’ve been talking with someone who’s responsible forhim.”

“You got it.”

“Don’t forget. Because I know where you live.”

He grinned at the threat and raised his hand to wave her off before doing a U-turn and heading back the way he’d come. He hadn’t noticed footprints on his way to the turnoff, but he had noticed a disturbance in the snowbank where a kid might have pushed through and crouched down so as not to be seen. Snowfall had been especially heavy so far this October, meaning more work and early cattle feeding for everyone in the valley,and a higher shoulder of snow to either side of the road leading into the valley.

He wouldn’t be lying to say that he and most everyone else had expected Beth to leave the Evans ranch after Red had gone missing in the mountains. She had a mother and sister in Kalispell, and Red’s brother and his family lived in Calgary. None of them were close enough to help her with the ranch or even a bit of babysitting.

No one would have blamed her for getting out.

Cal had done what he could without overstepping, but Beth was stubborn and altogether too independent. Just because there was a man-sized hole in her life didn’t mean it was Cal’s job to fill it. She’d as good as told him to stop helping only last week.

Might as well tell him to stop breathing.

He saw Sam walking up ahead once he rounded the bend, and the kid looked back and had the good sense to look nervous as Cal pulled up alongside him. “Get in.”

“I saw the cows heading for the pass—”

“You and I both. Get in.” He gave the order softer this time, and Sam complied.

It had been so easy to be the boy’s favorite person when Red had been alive. No laying down the law—that was Red’s job. Only the fun stuff, the easy stuff, but nothing about Sam was easy these days. The kid was growing too fast—jeans above his ankles and his jacket barely reaching his belt. Gym shoes because he’d either made bad choices with getting dressed this morning or his boots were too small. Did Beth notnotice?

“Where’s your mom?”

“She’s in surgery helping reattach a guy’s arm.” The boy spoke with pride and, well, he should have, but a person could work too much, and Beth had been skating that edge for a while now.

Sam held his bare hands up to the dash heater and his fingertips were white.

“Where are your gloves?”

“Dude, it’s October.”