A Cowboy's Honor

“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.”

That moment would stay with him for the rest of his life, but Dallas couldn’t expect someone who hadn’t lived through those horrible, empty black spaces to understand.

“And?”

“And He did. The woman came back and asked the hospital to let me work with her at an animal shelter. There was a whole lot of discussion, but finally some government agency worked out temporary identification and a place for me to stay. I earned a little bit of money. When the dreams started getting clearer, I told them I had to go. I came to Dallas on the bus. The rest you know.”

“So the dreams didn’t come till after?”

Dallas shook his head, struggling to make her understand. “From the day I woke up I began to see things, hear things. When I fell asleep they got clearer. Some I’ve managed to figure out. Some drive me crazy.” He paused, then admitted, “The worst is Mini Belle. As far as I can tell, it’s either a cheese or a car.”

Gracie doubled over in laughter.

Dallas stared at the transformation. His wife was gorgeous. Her whole face glowed. He could not look away.

But when the laughter continued too long, he frowned. “Mind sharing the joke?”

“Mini Belle isn’t a car or a ch-cheese,” Gracie sputtered.

“What is it then?” He felt stupid, awkward, out of place. He hated not getting the joke, or wondering if he was the butt of it.

“Mini Belle is a horse.” Grace sniffed, dabbed at her eyes. Seeing his disbelief, she nodded. “A miniature horse that was particularly fond of you. You once told me she greeted you by pressing her left front hoof on the toe of your boot until you gave her a carrot.”

He listened as she explained about his work with the miniature horse association in Arizona, how he’d studied the friendliness of the small horses.

“What other words have been bothering you? Maybe I can help?”

He decided to risk it.

“Fala-bella? I’m not sure I have the pronunciation quite…” Dallas stopped. He could tell from her face that she recognized the word.

“Falabella. It’s a very rare breed of miniature horse. Originally they were found only on the Falabella Farms in Argentina. I think now there are about nine hundred worldwide. In fact, we have one here at the ranch,” Gracie told him. “It was a gift from a South American group for Elizabeth’s help with some Amazonian issue.”

“Oh.” So it was work he’d been thinking about all these months. Hope deflated. He’d prayed for some clue that would unravel the past, something to link him with Gracie and Misty. This was not it.

“What else?” she asked quietly.

“Porter. I keep hearing the word porter.”

“Ray Porter was your boss. He’s retired now.”

Dallas wanted something more personal, something that would define who and what he’d been, what he’d done with his life, what meant the most to him. He told her more, but every time he repeated a word or described a dream, Gracie related it to work. Finally he chose the one that bothered him most. “Regret.”

“You mean you have regrets?”

He shook his head. “No, it’s like a title I see on the wall of my mind. Regret.”

“Could be anything.” Gracie shrugged. “You probably regretted having to leave home that last day. We’d only been married a week, but you had a meeting in Washington State, and then somewhere near Santa Fe, I think. You said you couldn’t miss them. Maybe regret was the last thing you felt.”

“When I see ‘regret’ I don’t feel emotion,” he explained, searching to understand why that word seemed so important. “It’s more like a tangible thing.”

“I don’t know how to help you.” Gracie frowned. “I suppose we could phone Ray and ask him if the word has any significance. But I’m not sure he would know more than that. You had almost finished your contract with them. You worked freelance.”

Dallas felt certain that wasn’t the answer he was looking for. But Elizabeth appeared at that moment.

“You must stay at the ranch as long as you like, Dallas.” The woman’s warm smile chased away the anxiety clawing his insides. “I don’t know what your accommodation arrangements are, but you’re welcome to stay in what I call the bunkhouse with some of our other employees. And if you need a job, we could certainly use you. How are you with horses?”

“He’s an expert,” Gracie said, before Dallas could admit he didn’t know.

Between the two ladies they had his future nailed down in two minutes. It was like being trapped between whirlwinds, but Dallas didn’t mind. He felt relief that he could stay, get to know his wife and daughter. Somehow God would reveal the next step.

“I’ll ask our sheriff to come over a little later. He’s a friend of mine and I’m sure he’ll help us figure out a way to locate your family.” Elizabeth surveyed his shabby clothes. “Camp staff usually wear jeans and camp shirts, which we provide. You can pick some up tomorrow morning, or Gracie can show you this evening. She’ll know where to find some boots, as well.”

Though he searched her face, Dallas found no hesitancy in Elizabeth’s manner toward him. The ranch owner obviously valued Gracie’s opinion and would accept Dallas on her word.

“I’ll do my best to make sure you’re not disappointed,” he promised. But Elizabeth didn’t return his smile.

Her brown eyes darkened.

“Don’t worry about disappointing me,” she murmured, an iron inflection backing the softly voiced words. “Worry about them.” She inclined her head toward the house, where Gracie had run inside to answer Misty’s call. “They’re more important than anything.”

“I know that. It will be hard for Gracie to have me back after such a long time,” he admitted.

“But you will stay?”

“Ms. Wisdom, you couldn’t pay me to move, now that I’ve found my family.”

“Good. God created families to support and love each other. He’s brought you here for a reason, Dallas. I’m going to pray you find it.”

“Thank you.”

Elizabeth patted his shoulder, then walked out of the yard toward the main buildings, whistling a little tune as she went.

Dallas sank back into his chair and sipped his tea, watery now that the ice had melted.

“I sure hope You know what You’re doing here, Lord,” he said, trying to ignore the call Gracie’s swimming pool sent his weary body. “Because I haven’t got a clue.”

He tilted his head back, closed his eyes and waited for the shadows to come. But for the first time since he could remember, no whispers haunted him.

Chapter Three

Gracie swam through the pool with smooth, easy strokes, stretching every muscle, hoping the effort would clear her mind, leave her body limp and ready to rest.

So far it was not working.

Earlier, Elizabeth had insisted her personal physician come out to the ranch, examine Dallas and contact the hospital that had cared for him in Los Angeles. Only after the doctor had certified that Dallas was physically fine had Elizabeth allowed the meeting with her sheriff friend. He’d already been in contact with the L.A. authorities who’d questioned Dallas extensively when he’d first awakened. But L.A. had little to pass on other than that he’d been found unconscious, without identification, and no one had called to inquire. The sheriff left after offering to help locate Dallas’s parents.

Gracie had decided it would be easier, and less taxing on her emotions, if they all ate dinner in the big mess hall with the rest of the staff and some of the regular students. That knocked Misty’s routine off-kilter, so it took a while to answer her many questions and get her into bed. By then Dallas had gone with Elizabeth to inspect his new quarters, and Gracie was alone in her house.

All she could think about were Dallas’s parents and how long it would take the sheriff to find them.

How long she had until her world changed again.

Now, here in the dark, with only a few yard lights glowing in the distance, and a big Texas moon overhead, Gracie could finally admit what a shock she felt.

Dallas was back.

Her entire body recognized him with a burst of longing. Her skin knew his voice. Even her eyes couldn’t tear themselves away from watching him. But in her heart Gracie knew this wasn’t the man she’d loved. This wasn’t the husband who knew her thoughts before she said them, who’d shared her dreams.

Gracie had spent the past six years burying memories. She’d worked long and hard to finish her training. She was on the cusp of achieving the future she’d struggled so hard to reach.

Why was Dallas back now, when she’d finally found a safe place for Misty to grow and experience life? And worse, how long would he stay?

Not that Gracie wanted Dallas to leave. She couldn’t stop imagining his arms around her. She yearned to hear his low whispers of love once more, ached to finally have the family she’d dreamed of.

It would have been easier if she could hate Dallas, if he’d done something hurtful, deliberately abandoned her, disowned Misty. But he hadn’t. He’d simply lost his memory.

This afternoon Dallas had gone to great lengths to reassure Misty.

But he wanted more.

Gracie knew it as surely as she knew that six years ago she’d given him her heart.

That was then.

She couldn’t afford to love again.

Nights were the worst.

That’s when shadows crept out from their hideaways and ghosts from an unseen past teased.

Walking was Dallas’s preferred therapy. In L.A. he’d walked through the hottest days, through rainstorms, through the smoke from hill fires. He walked as long as his body would keep going, until he could finally collapse in sleep.

At every bus stop on the way here he’d gotten out and walked. He’d walked as hard and as fast as he could to stop the thoughts from swarming his brain. He’d walked until his body weakened and he had to hide in a corner of the bus stop coffee shop and sip tea while his limbs recouped.

Anything but dream.

Tonight was no different, except that here on the ranch, Dallas felt freer to wander. Elizabeth had said he could go almost anywhere he pleased. There would be a lot of speculation tomorrow. Curious staff would have questions. But he’d gone through that in the hospital. People soon gave up asking questions when you had no answers to give them.

Tonight he walked briskly, savoring the soft night breeze and the scents it carried. The ranch boasted a glass-walled indoor facility with hydro therapies, whirlpools, training pools—he couldn’t remember what else Misty had told him about. He passed that building, came to an outdoor pool surrounded by a fence hidden by prickly rosebushes. Not only would the thorns prevent the seeing and physically impaired from stumbling into the pool, but the heady scent of the paths differed in texture, so that footsteps made distinct sounds on each. Yet all were built to accommodate wheelchairs, crutches, canes and scooters. Sweet-scented floral borders also worked as a signal—lavender to the left, alyssum to the right. Children like Misty would soon learn independence.

Dallas chose a path that bordered the playground. He meandered through it, not bothering to examine the state-of-the-art equipment as he allowed his thoughts to roam where they wanted.

They wanted to think about Gracie.

Beautiful Gracie, who couldn’t or wouldn’t let herself relax. Surely all her fear wasn’t due solely to Misty’s situation. If only he could remember something about their past, something that would help her.

After relentlessly probing his locked brain for answers it wouldn’t release, Dallas glanced up and realized he’d walked in a circle toward Gracie’s house, this time approaching from the rear. He saw glints of pool reflections on the house, heard a lone swimmer cut through the water in a steady rhythm.

So Gracie couldn’t sleep, either.

Dallas didn’t call out, chose instead to muffle his steps on the grass beside the path. She always managed to mask her expression when she looked at him. He needed to catch her unaware, to discern what was really going on behind that beautiful facade, to see whether she hated him for coming back.

Gracie swam with the same lithe grace she did most things. Only her head was visible, her hair a slick silver helmet in the moonlight. The pool lights had been dimmed, the yard light switched off.

Dallas watched wordlessly until she finally climbed from the pool, toweled herself off.

“You don’t have to stand in the shadows, Dallas. There’s a latch on the gate at this end. You can come in if you want.”

Now he knew where Misty got her acute hearing.

“Sorry.” He let himself into her yard, shame burning his cheeks. “You must think I’m a Peeping Tom.”

“I think you probably have a thousand questions and couldn’t sleep because of them.”

“Is that your excuse?”

“I like to swim at night.” She pulled on a thick terry robe, motioned him to a chair. “I made some mint tea. Would you like a cup?”

“No, thanks.” He watched her pour steaming liquid from a thermos. “Do you swim at night a lot?”

“If I can.” She cupped the mug between her hands, studied him from behind the steam that rose from it. “I’ve always loved the water, and this is the first time I’ve had a pool in my own backyard. My days are filled, and when Misty comes home I’m busy with her. Nights seem the best.”

“Surely you have some free time?” He couldn’t accept that she’d been locked away from life for the past six years, not a beautiful woman like her.

“Misty is a full-time job.”

One he’d missed.

“Misty is five now, right?”

“Her birthday was in February.”

“Surely that’s old enough to allow you some freedom. From what I saw today, the children who use this facility are taught to become independent.”

“There is always someone watching them. Maybe you missed that.” An edge crept into Gracie’s voice, a defensiveness he hadn’t counted on. Or maybe he was the problem.

“Did I do something wrong, Gracie?”

“Why do you ask that?”

“Because it feels like I’m walking through a minefield.”

“It’s not you, Dallas.” Defeat weighted her shoulders, added to the dullness of her eyes. “It’s just…” She shook her head, sipped her tea. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does. I’m her father. Your husband.” How strange that sounded. “I want to know if I said or did something that was out of place or hurt her. Or you.”

“It’s not you, Dallas. It’s Misty. She’s blind.”

“Yes.” He nodded. “I know.”

“But do you realize what that entails?” Gracie set down her cup. “I’m her security. I’m who she turns to when something’s wrong in her world. I can’t decide one afternoon that I need a time-out, and disappear.”

“You did this afternoon.”

She shook her head. “That was different. And besides, Elizabeth was here. Misty is always cared for when I work. I never leave her alone.”

“I’m sure you’re a great parent. But I’m here now. I can help.”

“You’re the problem.”

Her comment hit him squarely in the chest. She didn’t want him here.

“Fine. I’ll leave tomorrow morning, if that’s what you want.” Dallas clenched his jaw, swallowed his anger. “But I will continue to see my daughter. Now that I’ve found Misty, I’m not walking away from her.”

“I don’t want you to go!” Gracie shook her head. “That’s not what I mean.”

“Then you’d better explain,” he snapped, frustrated by the dead ends he kept running into. “Because I am completely lost. As usual.”

Her quick gasp, the way she huddled into her chair, her drawn miserable face struck him deeply, and his heart relented.

Dallas knelt in front of her, wrapped his hands around hers and waited for her to look at him. When she did, tears glittered on her lashes. He released one hand, lifted his fingers and brushed the wetness away, fingertips tingling at the contact with her skin.

“Gracie, I’m not trying to push you out of the way or take over. You’ve spent five years raising our child and I haven’t been here much more than five hours. I wouldn’t dream of undermining you. Why would I? You’ve done a wonderful job. She’s a daughter any man would love to call his own.”

A tremulous smile curved Gracie’s mouth briefly. “Thank you.”

He touched the damp strands that tumbled forward, pushed them away from her eyes so he could see more clearly. “I only want to share Misty with you.”

“I know.” She cupped her palm against his jaw. “I understand you want to help. But that brings its own problems.”

“Why?” Using every ounce of strength he had, Dallas resisted the urge to lay his head on her knees.

“Because Misty will want more.” Her hand pulled away from his, the other dropped from his cheek.

A keen sense of loss washed over him.

“From the time she could speak, Misty has talked about wanting a family. I try to give her everything, but I can’t give her that.” Gracie stopped, chewed her bottom lip. When she spoke again her voice had dropped. “I also can’t guarantee that you won’t hurt her.”

“I won’t.”

“Not intentionally, maybe, but when your memory comes back…” She met his gaze and did not look away. “I don’t want my daughter to suffer, Dallas.”

“I’m not going to hurt her,” he declared angrily, then told himself to calm down. She was a mother protecting her baby. “But nobody gets through life without some scars, Gracie.”

“I know that. Yet it’s hard to explain to a five-year-old.” A winsome smile tilted her lips up at the corners. “Awfully hard.”

“I’m sure. But your point is moot. I’m not going anywhere. And we already are a family.”

She shook her head slowly. “We were never a family,” she murmured, a note of sadness lacing her voice. “We didn’t have time.”

The words were devastating to hear.

Dallas had longed for things to be the way they had been before—when he assumed his life had been normal, had made sense. But did he even have what it would take to be a father to Misty, to one day be the kind of husband Gracie wanted, needed?

The past months had taught him many things, foremost that he was not a quitter.

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