A Cowboy's Honor

“It’s very nice to meet you, Misty.” Dallas touched her hand, allowed her delicate fingers to wrap around his own. “You’re a very pretty girl. You look like your mommy.”

“My mommy’s beautiful.” Misty’s smile reappeared. “I want to be just like her.”

“I’m sure you do.” Uncertain if she’d accept a hug, Dallas kept his arms by his sides, leaving the decision to Misty. She stepped back, reaching toward her mother.

Gracie grasped her hand but did not try to draw Misty away from him. Dallas was grateful for that. He wanted to know more about his daughter, he just wasn’t sure where to start.

“Are you sure you’re my daddy?”

He nodded, realized Misty wouldn’t see that. It would take time to get used to the situation, but even though he’d only met her, he knew he’d go to any lengths to protect this beautiful child.

My daughter.

“Yes, Misty. I really am your father. I’m Dallas Henderson.” He glanced at Gracie, trying to silently communicate his appreciation for the way she was allowing them to find their own way.

“Oh.” Misty frowned, bow lips pursed in a peevish frown. “Didn’t you want to have a girl like me? Is that why you didn’t come visit us sooner?”

Like me. The cautious question sent a message. Misty was afraid he wouldn’t love her. Because she was blind.

The knowledge hit low and deep. Dallas steeled himself, turned his pain into a prayer, as he had ever since he’d woken from his coma.

Oh, Lord, if only I’d been here for her, been able to reassure her that I’ll love her no matter what. Help me now.

“No, Misty. That’s not why I didn’t come.” He knelt in front of her, pushed a golden strand off her face. “I couldn’t come because I didn’t remember anything about your mommy and I didn’t know how to find her. That’s why I never met you until now. I’m sorry.”

Five years of his daughter’s life had passed without him, and there was nothing Dallas could do about that. He had to focus on now, on what they could have—if he handled this right.

“Are you all better now?” She bumped against his arm like an awkward colt.

“Mostly all better. I would have come sooner if I could have, Misty. Don’t ever think I wasn’t with you because I didn’t want to be.”

“Okay.” She stood silent for several moments. Waiting.

Though Dallas searched her face, he could not discern her reaction to his words. She hid her emotions well, just like her mother.

We need time together, Lord.

A whisper-soft sound from the love seat drew Misty’s attention. Dallas realized suddenly that though she couldn’t see, his daughter’s heightened senses made her aware of everything in the room. Misty would miss very little.

“I have trouble with my memory,” he explained. “It’s kind of…broken.”

“Like my dollhouse,” she said knowingly. “Your voice is sad. You’re not smiling.”

“In my heart I’m wearing a very big smile,” he told her softly. “A little while ago I didn’t know I had a daughter. Now I can hardly believe I didn’t know it a long time ago.” Dallas glanced at Gracie, saw the tears in her eyes and knew she had thought about this moment many times.

Probably feared it, too.

Which would explain her reluctance to bring him here without preparing her daughter ahead of time. For it was very clear to him that Gracie loved this child more than anything.

“Can I see you?” Misty asked quietly.

Gracie opened her mouth to explain, but Dallas shook his head at her. He knew exactly what Misty meant.

“Of course you can.” When she held out her tiny hand, he took it and guided it to his face. “Go ahead, Misty.”

The moment her baby-soft skin touched his cheek, Dallas closed his eyes and soaked in the sensations. Like stick men, her fingers walked over his forehead, slid around to “see” the shape of his face, the length of his nose, his cheekbones and his mouth. He smiled when she brushed his ear, and her fingers quickly slid back across his lips, found the dimple that matched her own.

“Mommy doesn’t have these,” she said.

Dallas blinked, studied his wife.

True, but Gracie had everything else a woman could ask for. A perfect figure, sun-streaked golden-brown hair that tipped up at her chin in a perky style. A model’s oval face boasting a natural, barely tanned glow.

“You got hurt.”

Misty’s careful probing gentled on his scalp. She’d missed nothing.

“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.”