LITMIR.BIZ

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there had been a family. Somehow having her with them once again gave him a sense of peace and a degree of normalcy to the unusual day. Nothing seemed quite as bad as before.

      Brenda was the first to turn away, still holding Travis’s hand. “You want me to put Travis to bed, Dad?”

      “Thank you, honey, but Travis and I’ll manage just fine, won’t we?” Bret replied, smiling at his son. He held out his hand to Travis, who took it with a nod.

      Spending time with Travis was always a pleasure to Bret. He enjoyed looking at the world through a three-year-old’s eyes. The girls were patient with their little brother, but he didn’t want them to feel overwhelmed with the responsibility of looking after him.

      No matter how tired or sore Bret was each evening he made a point of spending the last hour of Travis’s day with the boy.

      His youngest scampered up the stairs, no doubt racing ahead to find a story for Bret to read to him while the girls chattered about school as they left the room. Bret decided to leave the tree lights on for Chris when he came in. Roy would probably wait until morning to give him an updated report from the hospital. Bret knew he wouldn’t sleep until he heard Chris come in, anyway.

      By the time Bret heard Chris come up the stairs, Travis had fallen asleep—his giraffe tucked next to him.

      Pausing in the doorway of his own room, Bret watched his oldest son come down the hallway toward him. Roy was right. Chris was growing fast, and not only in height. He was losing his boy-child look. His face appeared to be changing—his features looked sharper and more defined.

      “How’s it going, Dad?” he asked, following Bret into the room and sprawling out on the bed with a sigh.

      Bret began to unbutton his shirt. “All right. How’s Freda?”

      “She was asleep when we left. The doctor gave her something for the pain. She’s got a nasty sprain in her left ankle—probably caused when she tried to stop her fall—as well as a broken right leg. I was glad they gave her something. I could tell she was really hurting when we took her in, but she wouldn’t complain.”

      “Did the doctor have any idea when she’d be able to leave the hospital?”

      “He wants to keep her at least a week, maybe longer. He said they may put her leg in traction because—” He paused because Travis was trotting down the hallway toward them.

      “I thought you were asleep,” Bret said gruffly, shaking his head.

      Travis ignored him and made a beeline for his brother. “The angel’s here,” Travis announced to Chris, crawling up on the bed beside him.

      Chris glanced at Bret with a question in his eyes.

      “We spent the evening decorating the tree,” Bret explained.

      Understanding flared in Chris’s eyes. “Oh! So the angel’s here, is she?” he asked Travis, pulling him over to hug him. “Were you glad to see her?”

      Travis nodded vigorously. “She always talks to me.”

      Chris’s eyes met his dad’s before he smiled at Travis and said, “I know, Travis. She used to talk to me, too.”

      Travis frowned. “Doesn’t she talk to you anymore?”

      Chris thought about that for a moment. “Good question. Maybe I haven’t been listening as close as I used to,” he admitted.

      “C’mon, son,” Bret said, picking Travis up and carrying him back to his bedroom. “It’s way past your bedtime.” He tucked him into bed once more, gave him a kiss and closed the door behind him.

      He found Chris waiting for him in the hallway.

      “What are we going to do now, Dad?”

      “We’ll manage somehow, son. I’ll keep Travis with me. You and the girls are old enough to look after yourselves.”

      “I was really scared today. I mean, everything happened so fast. We heard Freda give a surprised cry, then we heard a big thump and pans clattering.” He shook his head. “I was really glad Roy was here.”

      “Me, too. I’m also glad you were able to get the tree. At least it helped to keep the younger ones occupied tonight.”

      “Were you able to finish checking all the fences?”

      “The worst ones, I think. The rest will have to wait.” He patted his son’s shoulder. “Things will work out. You’ll see.” He looked at his watch. “You’re going to have a short night, son. Morning’s going to come awful early for you.”

      Chris smiled at Bret, his eyes shadowed with concern. “I could stay home and help you if you’d like.”

      Bret shook his head. “We’ll be fine, but I appreciate the offer. Good night, Chris,” he said, turning away before Chris could glimpse the emotion he was feeling. His oldest son was no longer a child. He was rapidly becoming a fine young man. Wasn’t it too soon? Did he have to grow up quite so fast?

      Bret went back into his bedroom and finished undressing. Stripping out of his work clothes, he went into his bathroom for a shower. The hot spray felt wonderful to his sore muscles.

      “You’d be proud of our children, Patti,” he whispered, now that he was alone. “They handled today’s emergency just fine.”

      He’d gotten in the habit of talking to Patti at times when his mind was in a turmoil. It seemed to help him sort through everything going on inside his head. He’d fill her in on his day, share with her his concerns about the ranch and the children.

      Some folks would consider him crazy. They were probably right. But somehow he felt closer to her that way. By reviewing his day in this manner he sometimes saw solutions that he might have otherwise overlooked.

      He was drying off when he remembered Travis’s remark about the angel talking to him. Kids could say some of the most unexpected things. They must be born with a wild imagination.

      All the children talked to Travis about his mother in an effort to make her real to the boy. Bret had placed a framed photograph of Patti beside Travis’s bed. He wasn’t certain how much Travis understood what had happened to his mother. Bret hadn’t wanted Travis to feel as though he were to blame for the loss of Patti. The doctor had been careful to explain to Bret and the three older children that her heart might have stopped whether she’d been in labor or not.

      Bret reentered his bedroom and slipped on a clean pair of jeans. He zipped them, but didn’t bother with the button since he was only going downstairs to make sure Chris had locked up when he came in. He’d forgotten to ask him if he’d looked in on the tree. Not that it mattered. Chris could always see it tomorrow. In the meanwhile Bret wanted to make certain the lights were turned off.

      The house still retained the heat of the previous days’ warm weather, although with this new cold front, he’d better make sure the thermostat on the furnace was set to come on.

      Silently Bret made his way down the hallway, pausing only long enough to make certain the children were all in bed. Even Chris’s light was out.

      Bret went downstairs, found the back door locked and the thermostat set. He decided to set up the coffeepot, so that it would brew early in the morning. He’d have to get the children off to school before doing his regular chores. A fresh cup of coffee first thing would help to keep him going.

      He paused in the doorway and gave the kitchen a last glance before he headed down the hallway to the living room. When he reached the doorway he came to an abrupt halt, staring at the figure in front of the fireplace with total disbelief.

      A young woman stood on the braided rug, looking around the room with interest. From the light given off by the tree, he would guess her to be in her twenties. She was slim, with white-blond hair wrapped in a coil on her neck. She looked to be of average height and wore jeans, a plaid shirt and sensible low-heel shoes.

      For

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