It's a Christmas Thing (The Christmas Tree Ranch 2)

“Come on, princess, time for bed.” He carried her up the steps, opened the front door with his free hand, and stopped short, frozen in shock.

By lamplight, the living room was a disaster. Clothes and bedding spilled out through the open tent flap and lay strung across the floor. Hunks of scattered white fuzz clung to the furniture and the rug.

“Oh, no!” Clara raced into the room when he put her down. “No, no, no!”

She picked up something off the floor that looked to Rush like a lumpy white rag. His heart sank as he recognized it. It was the ripped outer covering of Snowflake, her beloved toy cat.

Bucket!

But even then, Rush knew that this mess wasn’t Bucket’s fault. It was the nature of a dog to scatter, play, and chew on things. The real fault was his own. In his hurry to leave tonight, he had left Clara’s tent flap unzipped, with Bucket alone in the house.

Clutching the ragged remains of her favorite toy, Clara began to cry—not just her usual sniffling sobs, but a full-blown wail of childish grief that went on and on.

Heartsick, Rush gathered her into his arms and held her until her wails became quiet sobs. “It’ll be all right, sweetheart,” he murmured. “We’ll go shopping tomorrow. I’ll buy you a new cat.”

“But a new cat won’t be the same! It won’t be Snowflake. He was mine. He was special.” She looked up at Rush, her eyes swollen, her face stained with tears. “It was Bucket, wasn’t it? I’m so mad at that dog!”

Rush sighed and patted her small, quivering back. “Bucket was just playing. He didn’t know any better. If you want to be mad at somebody, be mad at me. I was the one who let Bucket in the house and forgot to zip your tent.”

She stared up at him, her eyes brimming. “Oh, Daddy.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “So, so sorry. I’ll do anything to make it up to you.”

But even as he said the words, Rush knew there was nothing he could do.

Bucket came slinking into the room, head down, tail drooping, as if he knew he was in trouble. Bits of white stuffing clung to his muzzle. “Look at him, Clara,” Rush said. “You can tell he’s sorry for what he did. Can you forgive him?”

Clara looked down at the guilty dog. “Maybe later. But I need to stay mad at him for a while.”

“And me? Do you need to stay mad at me, too? If you do, I’ll understand.”

She gave him a stern look. “Is it okay if I stay mad at you, too? I’ll still love you. I’ll just be mad.”

“Sure. Just tell me when you’re through being mad.” He gave her a quick hug. “You’ve had a long day. Let’s get you ready for bed.”

He helped her out of the princess costume and laid it over a chair. While she was getting into her pajamas and brushing her teeth, he gathered up her scattered clothes, folded them, and put them back in her suitcase.

After he’d tucked her in and zipped the tent flap, he finished picking up the fuzzy remnants of the toy cat. Then he sat by the tent for a time, until he could be sure Clara was sound asleep.

After checking on her one last time, he wandered back to his room. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he worked his cowboy boots off his tired feet. The day had been so good. It was a life lesson, he supposed, that his own mistake had added a sad ending.

He had just stretched out in bed and was drifting off to sleep when his phone rang. Without switching on a light, Rush turned over and reached for it. It could be Tracy, calling to say good night. But it was more likely somebody with a sick or injured animal.

“Hullo,” he muttered. “This is Dr. Rushford.”

“Rush.” The all-too-familiar voice seemed to drop his heart into his stomach

. He sat up and swung his feet to the floor.

“What is it, Sonya? Where are you?”

“I’m home. I’m back from the cruise,” his ex-wife said. “We need to have a talk.”

Chapter 15

Something in Sonya’s voice tightened the cold knot in Rush’s stomach. Her power over Clara gave her power over him. The woman was aware of this, and Rush knew that she would use it to her advantage. This time she’d caught him off guard. But he couldn’t afford to let her get the upper hand.

“Just so you won’t have to ask, Clara is fine,” he said. “She’s been having a good time here.”