Guest Post: Carolyn Brown’s Christmas
Christmas! Whether writing, thinking about presents or cooking, we’re thinking red, green, gold and maybe even silver, but not PINK! Right?
Several months ago four cowboys showed up in my virtual world. Now in my world the cowboys are so real that the lines between real and virtual do get blurred on a daily basis. I knew those cowboys after we talked for a while but the heroines were a different matter—okay, I promise there is a point to this digression away from the lovely, bright colors that spell Christmas.
So Natalie Clark and I had to get to know each other before I could write about the conflicts she and Lucas were about to get into, right?
Now I come from a long DNA line of those folks who are superstitious so it seemed little to ask that one of my ancestors send me a sign.
Any kind of sign would do. Mistletoe would be nice…no, that wouldn’t work. Last year’s Christmas book was all about Mistletoe. How about a lovely little ornament that brought Natalie and Lucas together the first day she arrived in Savoy, Texas? Something sentimental that one of them hung on the tree and when they looked at each other, their eyes caught and bingo, they knew they were meant for each other. The ancestors just giggled and told me that if I wanted a sign then I’d take what they decided to give me and they were still in conference about what that would be. So I waited, which is not easy for me. But I did trust them. Surely they could send me something red, green, gold or silver that would spark an idea about Miz Natalie. After all, they all loved Christmas!
About that time a good friend of mine posted a picture of a big rattlesnake on her FB page. It was stretched out there on the hot concrete and she’d shot it with her pink pistol.
And I wanted to wring my ancestors’ necks. It wasn’t fair that they give me the gene for slight superstition and then send me a danged pink pistol. I couldn’t even figure out a way to hang a pink pistol ornament on the tree. And boom…the first line of The Cowboy’s Christmas Baby popped into my head and my ancestors redeemed themselves:
There she stood with a dead coyote at her feet, a pink pistol in her right hand, three blue tick hound pups cowering behind her and cradling a baby in her left arm.
Natalie was more than a name. She had grit. She had sass. No coyote was going to hurt the feisty pups, not when she had a pink pistol and she was a crack shot. And Lucas was going to have his hands full from the first minute in the book.
My genes had not failed me. Pink was the brand new color for Christmas!