Brenda Minton - Her Guardian Rancher

With a wave, he headed toward the door. Jamie watched him go, snuggling into her blanket and closing her eyes. He walked down the hall, not really sure where he was heading. Of course he wouldn’t leave. He was used to pulling all-nighters. Sleep wasn’t typically his friend, because in sleep the nightmares returned.

A soft light shone from a room at the end of the unit. He headed that way, curious. When he got there and peeked in, his curiosity evaporated. The chapel. The light came from a lamp illuminating a cross. On a shelf beneath it lay a Bible. A plaque hung on the wall next to the display, with the words “Thy word is a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path. Psalm 119:105” engraved on it.

Out of habit, he took off his hat. After all, this was church. It was small. There were no pews. A minister didn’t preach here on Sunday. But the room had a comforting feeling, as if Jesus might walk in at any moment, clasp a hand on a man’s shoulder and tell him to let go of his burdens.

It was hard to let go of the burdens he’d been carrying for several years. He’d grown too accustomed to the weight.

When he thought about letting go, he wondered who he’d be without them. Without the burdens. He guessed it was wrong to think of Emma and Jamie as burdens; they weren’t. They had actually become his anchor, keeping him grounded. Because without them, he might not have wanted to survive the last few years.

He might have given in to some other ways of easing the guilt. He had plenty of friends who had found comfort in the bottom of a bottle. He also had friends who relied on faith. They seemed better off, if he was being honest.

He focused on work, and on keeping Jamie and Emma safe. Fixing a fence from time to time when she’d let him, buying Christmas gifts that he had delivered to their house, so she wouldn’t turn them away.

He eased into the seat by the window of the chapel. A picture hung on the wall with a verse about comfort. This room was meant to comfort.

He bowed his head, hat in his hands. He hadn’t prayed in a long time. He guessed he’d never been much of a praying man. He hadn’t been raised the way Boone had, going to church, having faith, believing it above all else. When he’d filled out the paperwork to join the army, he checked the Christian box because if anyone had asked, of course he believed in God.

He’d prayed for Andy to live. Now he would pray for Jamie. And God had better be listening. Because she was a little girl. She was three years old with her whole life ahead of her. She had a mom who would do anything for her. And she had a granddad who loved her “more than the stars in the sky.”

That was what Art had told her when he said goodbye to Jamie, before Boone gave the older man a ride home.

Daron hadn’t been raised going to Sunday school. He’d been to church a few times with the Wilders. That was the sum total of his experience with prayer. But he felt as if he had the basics down. Petition God. Ask the Almighty to spare a little girl.

When he heard a noise, he looked up, heat flooding his face. He stood, nearly knocking the chair over in the process. He jammed his hat back on his head and faced the person standing just inside the doorway.

Emma, head tilted, dark hair framing her face, studied him as if she’d never seen him before. “I didn’t expect to see you here.” She brushed a hand over her face and shook her head. “Not that you wouldn’t pray. That isn’t what I meant.”

He waited, a grin sneaking up on him, as she found words for what she meant. She was cute. He’d avoided that thought for a few years because Andy had been married to her and there were lines a man didn’t cross. But tonight, in a softly lit chapel, sleep still in her eyes and her dark hair a bit of a mess, he couldn’t deny it. He guessed his brain was a little sleep addled, too.

“I meant, I thought you’d come to your senses and left,” Emma finished.

“Should I be insulted that you were surprised to find me in the chapel?” Daron teased. “Or because you thought I’d leave you here alone.”

“Stop.” She held up a hand. “Please, not right now.”

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.