Pamela Tracy - Second Chance Christmas

They’d been close ever since.

“Pistol needs his exercise,” Harold mentioned. “Harry Potter’s kept me busy all morning.”

Elise looked out the stable door and to her truck. Then she looked out the back of the stable, to the arena, and saw Pistol tied to the fence, waiting his turn. If she went for a ride, she’d wind up staying the night. She’d stayed the night for Eva’s wedding. That would be two nights this year. Zero nights for the previous nine.

You’re needed in Apache Creek.

“I’ll do it. Let me go change clothes and tell Dad I’m staying.”

“Good girl,” Harold said, in exactly the same tone that he used for the horses.

Twenty minutes later, Elise had on her rain gear and opened the gate to the arena. Pistol stood still for a few moments. Then he started pounding the ground with his left front hoof. His body pressed into the fence as he tried to turn.

“You never forget me. Do you, boy?”

The quick ride turned into three hours. Something about the rainbow, about the small streams forming in the ground, and the way the air smelled, kept her going. When Elise returned to the stable, she removed his tack, groomed him and put him in his stall before heading to the main house just in time for supper.

Eva would be pleased.

Elise, the tension gone from her shoulders, and feeling a good sort of tired, was pleased, too. The warm feeling carried her through supper and through an hour of family time in the Arizona room—where everyone was careful not to make too much of Elise’s staying the night.

“Where’s Jesse?” Elise asked after Dad finished sharing Emily’s latest endeavor. As part of an honor’s project, she was working for the Grand Canyon Trust to build homes for Native Americans. She lived farther away from the Lost Dutchman than Elise, but she made it home every few months and every school vacation.

“He’s looking into buying a horse from Sunshine Stables over in Queen Creek. The truck broke down near a couple of hours ago. He’s getting it fixed. Guess it’s pouring there.” Dad checked his watch.

From her spot kneeling in front of the loom, Eva said, “I thought he’d be back by now. I’ve called twice and texted once.”

“He’s probably by a mountain,” Timmy said, sounding just like Jacob, and at six already a well-informed cell phone user. When Elise went to bed just after ten, Jesse still wasn’t home. This visit, since the Lost Dutchman was sold out, she was sleeping in Eva’s old room. Eva and Jesse were building a home on the west side of the property. Dad had given them the master bedroom until it was finished. He was using the apartment over the stable that had been Jesse and Timmy’s when they first moved to the ranch because Eva’s bedroom was “too plumb small!” Even smaller was Emily’s old bedroom—now converted into a bedroom for Timmy, just as Elise’s old room had been turned into an office.

After what felt like just a few hours of sleep, someone rapped on the door. The sound was soft, polite, at first. Then it got louder, a heavy knocking on the door until she muttered, “Come in.”

Timmy opened the door, stuck his head in and then tiptoed over. “It’s five in the morning. You’re going to miss breakfast.”

Elise doubted that’s what had him here, waking her up, sounding so much like her dad.

“Thanks.” She closed her eyes and turned over.

Timmy didn’t leave. Neither did his puppy, Goober, who jumped on the bed and landed next to Elise, his head on the pillow next to hers. Timmy cleared his throat. “Daddy got home an hour ago. He’s sleeping. Grandpa says we’re full up, and he can’t get away. Eva said to ask you.”

“Ask me what?” Elise mumbled into her pillow, figuring her one attempt at sleeping late had just ended.

“If you’ll take me on the gold-panning ride this morning.” Then his words came tumbling out. “If you do, I’ll never ask you for anything again, and I’ll forgive you for not getting me a present last Christmas.”

“I got you a present,” she protested, still talking to her pillow.

“A whole week after Christmas!”

“I’m going back to Two Mules today, honey. I can’t.”

In the hallway came Eva’s voice, soft but firm. “Can’t or won’t?”

“I’ve got things to do.” Elise rolled over and stared at the ceiling, wide awake now and trying to think fast.

“More important than your nephew?”

“You know that’s not the case.”

“You’re right.” Eva stepped to the door. “What has you the most scared is going on a ride with Cooper. Stepping into your old life. Helping out the family. We’ve got three horses in a trailer needing to be delivered to him. Guess the ride’s full. Say the word and we’ll load Pistol as well as Timmy’s horse.”

“I’m riding Harry Potter. He can really fly,” Timmy bragged.

This is why I don’t come home.

“I’m not scared of anything.” Now, Elise realized, she sounded very much like a middle child who always rose to the occasion when Eva baited her. Timmy’s head ping-ponged as he watched the sisters. Goober ignored them all and jumped on Elise’s stomach as if saying “You might as well get up.” Elise’s dogs often did the same thing.

“Prove it,” Eva said.

“I don’t have to prove anything.”

“Tell me, then, one thing you have on your appointment calendar that absolutely has to get done today or the world will end. I’ll add you to the church prayer list. You’ll receive a hundred cards. Then you’ll get phone calls.”

Elise threw off the blanket.

“Please, Aunt Elise, I need you to say yes. I want to go.”

Apache Creek needs you.

Looked as if she’d be going on a ride.

As the early morning fuzz cleared from her head and she looked out the window at the Arizona sunshine, she could only wonder about the power of prayer.

She knew for a fact that her father had prayed she’d stay the whole weekend.

Funny how this was working out.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.