A Cowboy's Honor. Lois Richer

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      “I hurt my head a while ago.”

      “Is it sore?” she asked, gently touching the rumpled edges of healed tissue buried just beneath his hairline.

      “No, not anymore.”

      “How did you get it?”

      “I don’t know,” he told her simply. “I can’t remember.”

      Dallas glanced up at a wall of photographs. A picture of Gracie holding her brand-new baby forced home exactly what he’d forgotten. Until now he’d known he was missing details, but faced with the visual progression of his daughter’s life, he suddenly realized the totality of what he’d lost and could never recapture.

      Why, God?

      “You’re looking at my wall, aren’t you?” Misty’s chest puffed out.

      “Your wall?” Stupid question. Dallas could clearly see that the pictures all centered on Misty. “Yes, I am. I never knew anybody who had a whole wall of their own. It’s very interesting.”

      “Interesting is a word adults use when they can’t think of anything else to say.” Her fingertips brushed his cheek again before she dropped her arm to her side. “Mommy, did you get the part for my dollhouse?”

      “Yes, I did. I put it on the counter by the cookie jar. Perhaps Elizabeth will help you. I want to talk to Dallas for a few minutes.”

      “Okay.” Misty walked purposefully toward the kitchen, felt unerringly for the bag next to a brown ceramic bear, then shifted toward the love seat. “Elizabeth, will you please help me?”

      So easily she dismissed him. Dallas wanted to weep.

      “I’d love to help, dear. Though you’ll have to show me what to do. I’ve never fixed a dollhouse before.”

      “Don’t worry, I have. I know exactly how to do it.” Misty paused in the doorway. “Will I see you later, Dallas? Is he staying for dinner, Mommy?”

      “I’m not sure yet. We’ll have to see. Be careful of the sharp places, honey.”

      “I’m always careful. You don’t have to tell me so much,” Misty grumbled before waggling a hand in his direction. “Bye, Dallas.” She walked out of the room and down the hall.

      Dallas. Not Daddy.

      But then, he hadn’t been her father. He was just a strange man who’d suddenly appeared in her life. Dallas didn’t know who he had been, but in that moment he prayed he could be a good father to this special child.

      “It’s a bit late, but I’d like you to meet Elizabeth Wisdom, Dallas. She’s been a wonderful friend to Misty and me.”

      “A pleasure to meet you.” He shook her hand, patiently bearing her intense scrutiny.

      “I’m glad Gracie found you.” Elizabeth opened her mouth to continue, but Misty called to her. “I’m sure we’ll talk later,” the woman added.

      Dallas wasn’t sure if that was a promise or a threat, but he found an odd comfort in knowing that she cared enough for his family to check him out.

      “I look forward to it.” He watched her walk away, then turned toward Gracie. His wife.

      How odd that sounded.

      And how wonderful.

      “Do you mind if we sit outside?” Gracie walked toward the kitchen. “I have some iced tea.”

      “Sure.” Dallas followed, accepted a glass from her and trailed behind through a set of French doors to a deck that overlooked a small green yard. To the left lay an oval pool. He whistled under his breath. “Nice.”

      “Yes, it is. Elizabeth has been very generous.” Gracie pointed to a lawn chair. “Have a seat. I thought we could talk more freely out here.”

      “More freely?” he repeated.

      “Misty’s hearing is very acute. She’s also very curious. I’d prefer we speak without her listening. For now.”

      Misty was a gorgeous child, bright, inquisitive. He wanted the chance to be more than a visiting stranger.

      “Did your father know Misty?” he asked.

      Gracie’s fingers clenched around the arms of her chair. She licked her lips, but it took another moment before she finally spoke. “She was born two weeks after he died.”

      So she’d had a newborn to care for all by herself.

      “I wish I’d been there, Gracie. I wish I could have helped you.”

      After a moment her color returned. She sipped her tea. “It wasn’t your fault.”

      “Maybe not. But still.” Dallas wasn’t sure how much to ask, but curiosity forced the question from him. “Was Misty blind from birth?”

      Gracie nodded. “Nobody knows why. The pregnancy was normal. There were no indications, no reason for it.”

      But she’d had a hard time. He could see it written all over her face.

      “When did you find out?”

      “The day after she was born. I had a Caesarian. I don’t remember much about the first night. The next morning they did a battery of tests. I hoped and prayed someone had made a mistake, that they’d find a cure, that there was an operation that could change it.” A wry smile twisted her lovely lips. “There wasn’t. Misty is blind and nothing can change that. Or the fact that I love her.”

      “That’s obvious. So is the fact you’ve found a way to help her enjoy her life, to experience everything she can.”

      “Not everything. Some things she will never do. I’ve accepted that. Now I try to keep her environment as safe as possible, to protect her.”

      A sense of dread underlay Gracie’s words. Dallas wanted to know why.

      “Which means? Surely on a ranch that’s especially for blind children Misty isn’t in any danger?”

      “It’s not just for blind children. There are a number of disabled kids the Bar None works with.” Gracie avoided his stare. “But that’s why I accepted Elizabeth’s offer to work here for six months. It’s an opportunity to prepare Misty for the future. I want to make sure she gets every opportunity to handle the challenges she’ll face.”

      “I imagine that’s normal for every mother.” The niceties were finished. He set down his glass and leaned forward. “You really wanted to come out here so you could ask me questions, Gracie. Go ahead.”

      “I have thousands,” she admitted.

      “Start wherever you like.”

      “Why don’t you tell me what happened when you woke up in hospital?”

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