A Cowboy's Honor

“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?”

Dallas never thought about that day if he could help it. But Gracie had asked a question. At the very least he owed her whatever explanation he could offer.

“Apparently I suffered some kind of head trauma. My body had pretty much healed by the time I woke up. I knew how to read and write, I could answer normal questions.” He grimaced. “It took a little longer to accept that I’d lost a huge amount of time.”

“And that no one had come looking for you?” she prodded softly.

If only she knew how that hurt.

“At first I fussed about it. And a lot of other things. But one day, before I was released, I met a woman. She’d just lost her husband and she was going to the chapel. She knew about me—knew I’d been in the coma. Probably everyone in the hospital did.” He’d hated being medicine’s newest case study. “Anyway, she invited me to pray with her.”

An expression Dallas couldn’t interpret flitted across Gracie’s pretty face. Then she pulled her mask back into place.

“Go on.”

“I went with her. There wasn’t a lot to do in the hospital. I was well, except for my memory. I was sick of the never-ending tests and I was bored.”

“I guess that’s as good a reason as any to go to church.”

Dallas laughed at her comment.

“It’s not a very good reason at all, Gracie. But that’s why I went. Only it wasn’t a church. It was a chapel. A quiet sanctuary amidst all the suffering.”

Lilies. He remembered Easter lilies. As soon as he’d pushed the solid oak door open their aromatic blooms had gorged his senses.

“I sat with her and I felt this peace, solemnity, if you want. After a while I noticed a verse written in some kind of calligraphy across one of the lit windows. It was from Romans and the last part of it said, ‘…and we confidently and joyfully look forward to becoming all that God has had in mind for us to be.’”

“I see.” Gracie studied him the way a nurse observes a psychiatric patient.

“I know it’s hard to understand, but I sensed a kind of reassurance that no matter what, God would take care of me. I still knew Him and He knew me.”