Lois Richer - A Cowboy's Honor

He decided to risk it.

“Fala-bella? I’m not sure I have the pronunciation quite…” Dallas stopped. He could tell from her face that she recognized the word.

“Falabella. It’s a very rare breed of miniature horse. Originally they were found only on the Falabella Farms in Argentina. I think now there are about nine hundred worldwide. In fact, we have one here at the ranch,” Gracie told him. “It was a gift from a South American group for Elizabeth’s help with some Amazonian issue.”

“Oh.” So it was work he’d been thinking about all these months. Hope deflated. He’d prayed for some clue that would unravel the past, something to link him with Gracie and Misty. This was not it.

“What else?” she asked quietly.

“Porter. I keep hearing the word porter.”

“Ray Porter was your boss. He’s retired now.”

Dallas wanted something more personal, something that would define who and what he’d been, what he’d done with his life, what meant the most to him. He told her more, but every time he repeated a word or described a dream, Gracie related it to work. Finally he chose the one that bothered him most. “Regret.”

“You mean you have regrets?”

He shook his head. “No, it’s like a title I see on the wall of my mind. Regret.”

“Could be anything.” Gracie shrugged. “You probably regretted having to leave home that last day. We’d only been married a week, but you had a meeting in Washington State, and then somewhere near Santa Fe, I think. You said you couldn’t miss them. Maybe regret was the last thing you felt.”

“When I see ‘regret’ I don’t feel emotion,” he explained, searching to understand why that word seemed so important. “It’s more like a tangible thing.”

“I don’t know how to help you.” Gracie frowned. “I suppose we could phone Ray and ask him if the word has any significance. But I’m not sure he would know more than that. You had almost finished your contract with them. You worked freelance.”

Dallas felt certain that wasn’t the answer he was looking for. But Elizabeth appeared at that moment.

“You must stay at the ranch as long as you like, Dallas.” The woman’s warm smile chased away the anxiety clawing his insides. “I don’t know what your accommodation arrangements are, but you’re welcome to stay in what I call the bunkhouse with some of our other employees. And if you need a job, we could certainly use you. How are you with horses?”

“He’s an expert,” Gracie said, before Dallas could admit he didn’t know.

Between the two ladies they had his future nailed down in two minutes. It was like being trapped between whirlwinds, but Dallas didn’t mind. He felt relief that he could stay, get to know his wife and daughter. Somehow God would reveal the next step.

“I’ll ask our sheriff to come over a little later. He’s a friend of mine and I’m sure he’ll help us figure out a way to locate your family.” Elizabeth surveyed his shabby clothes. “Camp staff usually wear jeans and camp shirts, which we provide. You can pick some up tomorrow morning, or Gracie can show you this evening. She’ll know where to find some boots, as well.”

Though he searched her face, Dallas found no hesitancy in Elizabeth’s manner toward him. The ranch owner obviously valued Gracie’s opinion and would accept Dallas on her word.

“I’ll do my best to make sure you’re not disappointed,” he promised. But Elizabeth didn’t return his smile.

Her brown eyes darkened.

“Don’t worry about disappointing me,” she murmured, an iron inflection backing the softly voiced words. “Worry about them.” She inclined her head toward the house, where Gracie had run inside to answer Misty’s call. “They’re more important than anything.”

“I know that. It will be hard for Gracie to have me back after such a long time,” he admitted.

“But you will stay?”

“Ms. Wisdom, you couldn’t pay me to move, now that I’ve found my family.”

“Good. God created families to support and love each other. He’s brought you here for a reason, Dallas. I’m going to pray you find it.”

“Thank you.”

Elizabeth patted his shoulder, then walked out of the yard toward the main buildings, whistling a little tune as she went.

Dallas sank back into his chair and sipped his tea, watery now that the ice had melted.

“I sure hope You know what You’re doing here, Lord,” he said, trying to ignore the call Gracie’s swimming pool sent his weary body. “Because I haven’t got a clue.”

He tilted his head back, closed his eyes and waited for the shadows to come. But for the first time since he could remember, no whispers haunted him.

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