Daddy's Angel. Annette Broadrick

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      In it he told her that he thought she’d died. They laughed about such a silly idea. She’d held him in her arms and told him that she would never leave him. Not ever.

      In the first seconds of awakening that morning he’d reached for her with joy in his heart, glad to be through with the nightmare of doing without her, only to find the other side of the bed empty.

      He’d opened his eyes and realized the truth.

      Patti was gone. She’d been gone for more than three years now.

      No doubt his vivid dream the night before had caused the ache of missing her to be so strong today. He’d been feeling her loss all day in the same way he’d felt during those first black months when he hadn’t believed he could go on without her.

      A soft whine and the familiar weight leaning against his knee called Bret back to the present. He glanced down and rubbed his hand over Rex’s head, glad for the German shepherd’s company.

      Even though the dog was getting up in years, he continued to follow Bret around the ranch, generally riding in the truck cab when it was raining or cold.

      “Yeah, I know, old man,” he murmured. “The wind’s picking up and we’ve got a ways to go before we’re home, with no truck heater to take the chill off.”

      Bret glanced around, seeing the gusts of wind create eddies of silt around them. He readjusted his broad-brimmed hat, pulling it low over his eyes, and headed over to where the horse waited.

      The creak of the leather made a familiar sound as he mounted the horse and gathered the reins in his gloved hand. He glanced to the north, narrowing his eyes as he measured the swiftness of the clouds racing toward him.

      Those clouds looked ominous, threatening cold wind and icy rain. He didn’t want to get caught in the hills when the rain hit. The footing among the rocks and cacti was dangerous enough in the best of conditions. Hopefully they would make it to the ranch road before the threatened downpour reached them.

      Bret started down through the heavy underbrush of the rock-strewn hillside. Rex followed close behind.

      Now that he was headed home, Bret’s thoughts raced on ahead to his family, his expression growing more grim.

      Chris had reminded him over breakfast this morning that they needed to get a tree before the yearly shipment of firs were all picked over. Chris, especially, insisted on keeping all the family traditions Patti had started. Even to the point of dragging out the same decorations year after year.

      Thinking about the decorations reminded Bret of the year he’d suggested to Patti that they should replace the bedraggled-looking Christmas tree angel they’d found the first Christmas they were married.

      The tiny figure had lost the tip of one of her wings, her dress hung limp and the glitter had long since disappeared from her halo. Patti had been shocked and incensed that he would suggest such a thing. The angel was part of the Bishop Christmas tradition.

      Now the children were just as bad about adhering to tradition. Christmas season didn’t officially begin in the Bishop household until the tree was up, decorated and Bret had placed the angel with great ceremony at the top.

      If Chris had his way, Bret would be up on the stepladder tonight, clutching the tiny ornament in his hand.

      Bret had tried to explain that he didn’t have time to go to town today, that he had too many other things to do. That’s when Chris had asked if he could get Roy to take him to get the tree.

      Bret didn’t know what he would have done during the past three years without Roy Baker. The ranch hand originally had been a part of the crew that worked for Bret’s father ever since Bret had been a teenager. When Patti died, Roy—with no commotion—had moved to Bret’s ranch and taken over the daily chores around the place. He knew as much about ranching as anybody in the district, but had never wanted the responsibility of his own place.

      Roy was exactly the kind of friend Bret had needed during that black time after Patti’s death, when Bret hadn’t been certain he could survive without Patti by his side.

      Roy had filled in wherever he was needed. A shy man only a few years older than Bret, Roy understood what needed to be done to keep the ranch in working order without Bret having to mention it.

      Bret had been grateful for the help. They had never discussed whether the move would be temporary or permanent, but during the past three years Roy had settled into the small house that was part of the ranch buildings and become an integral part of the Bishop family circle.

      Bringing a brand-new motherless child home from the hospital had been a painful and traumatic time for all of them. Bret hated to think what they would have done if fate, in the form of another lifelong friend, hadn’t come to his rescue.

      Freda Wilkenson had spent her early youth caring for her invalid mother and had never had time to develop a social life of her own. A few years older than Bret, Freda, timid and soft-spoken, approached him with a suggestion a few days after he’d brought Travis home.

      Her mother had recently passed away and Freda felt lost with nothing to do to fill her empty days. She offered to move out to the ranch as housekeeper and to look after the children.

      Accepting her offer of help had saved his sanity.

      Bret knew that he couldn’t have gotten through these past three years without the help of Roy and Freda. They had been there for him, encouraging him to establish some kind of life for his children during those days when all he’d wanted to do was to saddle up and keep on riding until he fell off the edge of the world.

      Eventually he’d learned a very important lesson—a person couldn’t feel sorry for himself for long when he had four children who needed his attention and care.

      He still saw Patti in the silvery-gray flash of Chris’s eyes…and caught a glimpse of her sparkling mischievousness in Brenda and Sally. But it was Travis who repeatedly pulled at his heartstrings. As though to make up for her loss, Patti had somehow passed on to her youngest son not only her black curls and features, but her gentle and loving personality as well.

      Travis didn’t talk much. With three older siblings, he didn’t have to, since all of them had a habit of anticipating his every want and need. Despite the attention, he wasn’t spoiled. He was just a happy little boy who offered his unconditional love to everyone around him.

      Travis had listened to the girls over breakfast that morning as they asked when they were going to go shopping. He had stopped them all by asking if he was going to get to see Santa at the mall again this year. No one had thought Travis could have remembered his visit last Christmas, but obviously he had.

      In an effort to gain some time, Bret had agreed to let Chris ask Roy to take him to town today to buy a tree, but only if Roy didn’t have something else he needed to do.

      Bret knew he was being a coward. He knew he should have agreed to take Chris into town, himself. It was just that Christmas never seemed to get any easier for him. He wished he could disappear until all the fuss of the season was behind him for another year.

      He hated having to go into town for supplies between Thanksgiving and New Year’s. Shiny tinsel streamers and giant red bells arched across the main streets of the СКАЧАТЬ