Merry Cowboy Christmas by Carolyn Brown Read Free Book Online

potluck dinner in the fellowship hall. So be thinking along those lines and bring your leftovers to the potluck that evening for some time of fellowship. Please open your Bibles to Matthew 22, where Jesus said for us to love our neighbors as ourselves. Would you hurt yourself? Would you say mean words to yourself? Would you deny yourself food or shelter?”
    Fiona drifted away from the preacher’s booming voice. She felt someone staring at her from the pew behind her. She glanced over her shoulder to see Truman O’Dell and his wife, Dora June, both giving her the evil eye. Dora June, God bless all three of her chins, had decided to step in and give her sisters advice since Granny was in a care facility and had damn sure rubbed them the wrong way.
    But what in the hell had Fiona done to bring the wrath of the O’Dells down upon her? She’d only been in town three days. Surely a year-old divorce wouldn’t be enough to bring out the cross and nails to crucify her. Those two old codgers should be taking in the sermon and thinking of being nice to their neighbors.
    “In this upcoming season of love, we should remember to treat our neighbor right, even if they treat us wrong. When our Lord and Savior was on the cross, he asked his Heavenly Father to forgive the people who done that horrible deed to him,” the preacher went on.
    Finally, the preacher asked Truman O’Dell to deliver the benediction. The roof came nigh to rising up a good three inches when everyone in the church sighed. Not because the sermon went five minutes over twelve o’clock but because Truman always thanked the almighty for everything from the snow that would bring extra nutrients to the soil, to his goats, to the church building, and the offering that morning. The roast beef in most folks’ ovens would be dried up into jerky by the time they got home to Sunday dinner.
    Fiona imagined the church roof lowering back into place when Truman raised his head and said, “Amen.” The quietness ended and folks began to talk in low tones as they moved toward the door where they’d shake hands with the preacher. Then they’d brave the bitter north wind to their vehicles and drive like bats set loose from the bowels of hell to get home and save what was left of the dinner.
    Somehow Fiona got separated from the rest of the family when Lucy Hudson grabbed her arm and gave her a hug. “Lord, honey, I hate it when Truman gives the final prayer, but I suppose Preacher Lyle was trying to get him to see that he’s been a horse’s ass the past year.”
    Fiona raised an eyebrow.
    “You look like your granny Irene when you do that,” Lucy giggled. “Don’t tell me your sisters haven’t told you about his vendetta against the Lucky Penny. He’s strutted around like a peacock talkin’ crap about how he’d buy that ranch yet from them when they got tired of hard work and moved away.” Her eyes shot toward the ceiling. “Forgive me, Lord, but it’s not judgin’; it’s the Gospel truth. Anyway, he’s been talkin’ bad about the Dawsons ever since they got here.”
    “Why?” Fiona asked.
    “No one wanted the Lucky Penny, what with its reputation for being so unlucky for anyone who buys it. But Truman wanted it real bad, only he’s tighter with his money than a bull’s butt in fly season and he was trying to hold out for a better price when the Dawsons showed up and bought it,” Lucy whispered.
    “That’s no reason to be ugly to Blake and Toby and now Jud.”
    Lucy nodded emphatically, the gray bun on top of her head bobbing as if it would tumble off and go flying across the pews. “I know and everyone else in town knows but Truman and about three women. I won’t call any names but one of the women is Truman’s wife and the other two are her friends. Dora June don’t give a damn”—another eye roll to the ceiling and the sign of the cross over her heart—“about the ranch but she’s upset because Allie and Lizzy wouldn’t listen to them