No doubt a deer had pulled the top strand loose while bounding across the fence, causing the line to sag. He’d been checking all the fence lines of his ranch for the past several days. Some of the terrain was too rugged for him to use his pickup truck, his usual mode of conveyance. For the last two days he’d ridden Hercules.
Perhaps traveling around the ranch on horseback had prompted the recurrence of his memories of Patti. After all, Patti had given Hercules to him. She’d always enjoyed riding with him whenever she could get away for a few hours.
No doubt his saddling up Hercules and riding him yesterday had triggered the dreams he’d had last night.
He’d dreamed that Patti was alive. She’d been there next to him, holding him, talking to him, loving him.
His dream had seemed so real.
In it he told her that he thought she’d died. They laughed about such a silly idea. She’d held him in her arms and told him that she would never leave him. Not ever.
In the first seconds of awakening that morning he’d reached for her with joy in his heart, glad to be through with the nightmare of doing without her, only to find the other side of the bed empty.
He’d opened his eyes and realized the truth.
Patti was gone. She’d been gone for more than three years now.
No doubt his vivid dream the night before had caused the ache of missing her to be so strong today. He’d been feeling her loss all day in the same way he’d felt during those first black months when he hadn’t believed he could go on without her.
A soft whine and the familiar weight leaning against his knee called Bret back to the present. He glanced down and rubbed his hand over Rex’s head, glad for the German shepherd’s company.
Even though the dog was getting up in years, he continued to follow Bret around the ranch, generally riding in the truck cab when it was raining or cold.
“Yeah, I know, old man,” he murmured. “The wind’s picking up and we’ve got a ways to go before we’re home, with no truck heater to take the chill off.”
Bret glanced around, seeing the gusts of wind create eddies of silt around them. He readjusted his broad-brimmed hat, pulling it low over his eyes, and headed over to where the horse waited.
The creak of the leather made a familiar sound as he mounted the horse and gathered the reins in his gloved hand. He glanced to the north, narrowing his eyes as he measured the swiftness of the clouds racing toward him.
Those clouds looked ominous, threatening cold wind and icy rain. He didn’t want to get caught in the hills when the rain hit. The footing among the rocks and cacti was dangerous enough in the best of conditions. Hopefully they would make it to the ranch road before the threatened downpour reached them.
Bret started down through the heavy underbrush of the rock-strewn hillside. Rex followed close behind.
Now that he was headed home, Bret’s thoughts raced on ahead to his family, his expression growing more grim.
Chris had reminded him over breakfast this morning that they needed to get a tree before the yearly shipment of firs were all picked over. Chris, especially, insisted on keeping all the family traditions Patti had started. Even to the point of dragging out the same decorations year after year.
Thinking about the decorations reminded Bret of the year he’d suggested to Patti that they should replace the bedraggled-looking Christmas tree angel they’d found the first Christmas they were married.
The tiny figure had lost the tip of one of her wings, her dress hung limp and the glitter had long since disappeared from her halo. Patti had been shocked and incensed that he would suggest such a thing. The angel was part of the Bishop Christmas tradition.
Now the children were just as bad about adhering to tradition. Christmas season didn’t officially begin in the Bishop household until the tree was up, decorated and Bret had placed the angel with great ceremony at the top.
If Chris had his way, Bret would be up on the stepladder tonight, clutching the tiny ornament in his hand.
Bret had tried to explain that he didn’t have time to go to town today, that he had too many other things to do. That’s when Chris had asked if he could get Roy to take him to get the tree.
Bret didn’t know what he would have done during the past three years without Roy Baker. The ranch hand originally had been a part of the crew that worked for Bret’s father ever since Bret had been a teenager. When Patti died, Roy—with no commotion—had moved to Bret’s ranch and taken over the daily chores around the place. He knew as much about ranching as anybody in the district, but had never wanted the responsibility of his own place.
Roy was exactly the kind of friend Bret had needed during that black time after Patti’s death, when Bret hadn’t been certain he could survive without Patti by his side.
Roy had filled in wherever he was needed. A shy man only a few years older than Bret, Roy understood what needed to be done to keep the ranch in working order without Bret having to mention it.
Bret had been grateful for the help. They had never discussed whether the move would be temporary or permanent, but during the past three years Roy had settled into the small house that was part of the ranch buildings and become an integral part of the Bishop family circle.
Bringing a brand-new motherless child home from the hospital had been a painful and traumatic time for all of them. Bret hated to think what they would have done if fate, in the form of another lifelong friend, hadn’t come to his rescue.
Freda Wilkenson had spent her early youth caring for her invalid mother and had never had time to develop a social life of her own. A few years older than Bret, Freda, timid and soft-spoken, approached him with a suggestion a few days after he’d brought Travis home.
Her mother had recently passed away and Freda felt lost with nothing to do to fill her empty days. She offered to move out to the ranch as housekeeper and to look after the children.
Accepting her offer of help had saved his sanity.
Bret knew that he couldn’t have gotten through these past three years without the help of Roy and Freda. They had been there for him, encouraging him to establish some kind of life for his children during those days when all he’d wanted to do was to saddle up and keep on riding until he fell off the edge of the world.
Eventually he’d learned a very important lesson—a person couldn’t feel sorry for himself for long when he had four children who needed his attention and care.
He still saw Patti in the silvery-gray flash of Chris’s eyes…and caught a glimpse of her sparkling mischievousness in Brenda and Sally. But it was Travis who repeatedly pulled at his heartstrings. As though to make up for her loss, Patti had somehow passed on to her youngest son not only her black curls and features, but her gentle and loving personality as well.
Travis didn’t talk much. With three older siblings, he didn’t have to, since all of them had a habit of anticipating his every want and need. Despite the attention, he wasn’t spoiled. He was just a happy little boy who offered his unconditional love to everyone around him.
Travis had listened to the girls over breakfast that morning as they asked when they were going to go shopping. He had stopped them all by asking if he was going to get to see Santa at the mall again this year. No one had thought Travis could have remembered his visit last Christmas, but obviously he had.
In an effort to gain some time, Bret had agreed to let Chris ask Roy to take him to town today to buy a tree, but only if Roy didn’t have something else he needed to do.
Bret knew he was being a coward. He knew he should have agreed to take Chris into town, himself. It was just that Christmas never seemed to get any easier for him. He wished he could disappear until all the fuss of the season was behind him for another year.
He hated having to go into town for supplies between Thanksgiving and New Year’s. Shiny tinsel streamers and giant red bells arched across the main streets of the small ranching community where they did most of their shopping. Every store he entered had its
own display, generally accompanied by Christmas music.
There was just no getting away from the music. Even the country music station he listened to in the truck interspersed the current hits being played with familiar voices singing traditional songs.
A person couldn’t get away from the reminders, no matter how much he tried.
A strong gust of wind grabbing at his hat brought Bret jarringly back to the present. He reached up and once more tugged the brim down low over his eyes.
Looking around, he noticed that while he’d been lost in thought, they’d managed to reach the dirt road that led back to the ranch buildings. Bret signaled the horse by subtly shifting his weight. Hercules immediately responded with ground-eating strides and Rex loped along beside them.
They reached the ranch buildings minutes before the storm hit. Safely inside the barn, Bret watched from the wide doorway as large hail bounced off the ground and the surrounding buildings. He breathed a thankful prayer that he’d gotten home when he did.
He took his time unsaddling Hercules and cooling him down before he wiped the horse dry and fed him. Although he could always explain to Freda and the kids that he’d been waiting for the first of the front to pass by, he knew the truth.
He dreaded going inside. If Roy hadn’t taken Chris to town when he got home from school, then Bret knew he’d have to do so as soon as they ate.
If Roy had taken Chris to town, then Bret would have to help decorate the tree tonight. He knew he was putting off the inevitable. Sooner or later he would have to go into the house and face whatever festivities the family had planned for the evening.
By the time Bret sprinted across the wide expanse between the barn and house the hail had been replaced by pounding, icy rain splashing mud and turning the ground into a slippery quagmire.
He took the back-porch steps two at a time, then paused beneath the shelter of the roof to wipe off the bottoms of his boots before entering Freda’s spotless kitchen. He removed his gloves and opened the door, already anticipating a cup of Freda’s coffee to help remove the chill.
The first thing he noticed when he opened the door was the dark kitchen. The kitchen was the heart of their home, and its light generally came on first thing in the morning and stayed on until the last thing at night.
Today it was dark and deserted.
Bret absently brushed his hat off his head and hung it and his coat on a set of hooks beside the back door, next to the children’s jackets. He noted that Chris’s coat wasn’t there, which probably meant that Chris and Roy hadn’t returned from town, but didn’t explain why Freda wasn’t in the kitchen preparing supper.
“Hello?” he called. “Anybody home?”
Bret heard scrambling upstairs and the clattering of feet on the wooden stairs. At least somebody was here.
Eleven-year-old Brenda was the first to appear. Her golden eyes were wide with concern. Bret had a sudden sense of unease flash over him, which was confirmed with her first words.
“Dad! Thank goodness you’re home! You’ll never guess what happened this afternoon!”
Since his daughter was known for speaking in exclamations whenever she was excited, Bret tried not to let her delivery cause him to jump to premature conclusions before hearing some details. Obviously something had happened out of their normal routine.
Eight-year-old Sally arrived immediately behind her sister, looking worried. However, Bret felt a strong sense of unease when three-year-old Travis came in clutching his familiar stuffed giraffe by its long neck, his eyes red from crying and his face pale. Bret knelt down on one knee and Travis ran into his arms, burying his face in Bret’s neck.
Bret fought a surge of panic. The three younger children were obviously all right. It had to be…
“What happened? Is Chris—”
Brenda rushed into speech. “Chris and Roy had to take Freda to the hospital a while ago. She fell and Roy’s afraid maybe she broke her leg or her hip or something. Oh, Dad! It was awful! She was in the kitchen and Roy thinks she must have stepped on some tree needles or something that dropped on the floor when they brought the tree inside and she didn’t see it. Roy checked her as best as he could, then he called the doctor and the doctor said for him to get her to the hospital.” She finally had to pause for a breath.
Bret stood, still holding Travis in his arms. In a quiet voice, which effectively disguised his growing sense of panic, he asked, “How long ago did this happen?”
Sally was the one who answered. “Almost two hours ago. We promised Freda we’d keep Travis entertained until you got back home and we did, but now he’s saying he’s hungry and we weren’t sure what we should do.”
Brenda responded. “Of course we knew what to do, Dad. It isn’t like I don’t know how to cook or anything. But you told us not to have any fire going when an adult wasn’t here, so I’ve been waiting, thinking you’d be home soon.”
Bret stroked her head with his hand. “Thanks, honey. I’m glad you remembered.”
“We could have sandwiches, couldn’t we?” Sally asked, glaring at her sister.
“That’s a good idea,” Bret said. “Why don’t you make some while I call the hospital and see what I can find out about Freda?” He gave Travis a quick hug, then set him in his high chair. With quick strides Bret headed down the hallway to his office, where he could talk in private.
The closest hospital was almost fifty miles away. Although the facility was small, several doctors drove from the surrounding large cities—Austin and San Antonio—to provide additional services to the sparsely populated hill country. He knew that Freda would receive excellent care there. What he was concerned about at the moment was the seriousness of her injuries.
As soon as he got through to the hospital Bret had Roy paged. He drummed his fingers on the desk, waiting what seemed like hours before Roy finally came on the line.
“How is she?”
Roy laughed, which eased Bret’s tension considerably. “That woman’s too feisty for her own good, boss. She’s insisting she’s got to get back home tonight, that she’s got too much to do and that the children shouldn’t be left alone. You know what she’s like.”
“Can you tell me what happened? The girls were a little excited and I’m not sure I understood.”
“She stepped on something slippery and her foot went out from under her. Me and Chris had been trailing back and forth through there, bringing in the tree and all, and it’s my guess we tracked something inside the house and she didn’t see it in time to avoid it. It wouldn’t have been so bad but she fell wrong—all awkwardlike. From the pain she was in I pretty much figured she’d broke a bone.”
“Is that what the doctors say?”
“Yep, her leg’s definitely broken. They’re ordering further tests, including more X rays, to look for anything else that might have been injured. I called Freda’s sister in Austin to let her know about it, so she’s on her way over here to sit with her.”
“Did the doctor say how long she would need to stay in the hospital?”
“He wants to keep her for several days, which has got Freda all upset, let me tell you.”
“You tell Freda that I want her to stop worrying about me and the kids. We’ll do just fine. I want her to rest and recuperate. Tell her to lie back and enjoy being waited on for a change…to pretend she’s on vacation.”
“Some vacation,” Roy muttered.
“I know. I take it that Chris is still there with you?”
“You bet he is. I don’t know what I would have done without that boy this afternoon. He was right there helping me with Freda as calm as you please just like he was a growed up man and knew exactly what to do. I was downright impressed by the way he kept his head and all. That son of yours is growing up real fast.”
“I know.”
“I never realized it until we was helpin’ to get Freda in my truck, but that dang kid is almost as tall as I am,” Roy said, his amazement plain. “When did that happen?”
<
br /> “I noticed the same thing a day or so ago, Roy. I guess that’s what happens when you keep feedin’ ’em.”
“I keep threat’ning to put a brick on his head, but it don’t seem to do much good.”
Bret looked at his watch. “How much longer do you intend to stay at the hospital?”
“Until the doctor tells me what these last X-rays show. Then I’ll take the kid out and buy him something to eat before we head home.”
Bret massaged his forehead, absently noting a headache he hadn’t been aware of until now. “Sounds like a good plan to me.”
“At least we managed to get that tree set in its stand before Freda fell. Maybe you and the girls can get the thing decorated and help keep ’em entertained that way. They were real upset over Freda, you know.”
“Yes, I know. But they handled everything very well. Brenda’s feeding them now.” He sighed, resigned to the inevitable. “Yeah, you’re right. I guess I’ll get up in the attic and find those decorations.”
“Fine. Then we’ll be seeing you after a while.”
“Tell Freda I’m really sorry about the accident. Tell her I’ll be up to see her in the morning once I get the kids off to school.”
Bret hung up and stared at the phone. A broken leg, at least. Maybe something even more serious. Why did something like this have to happen? It didn’t make any sense. None of it. Now Freda was in the hospital, suffering, and he was here at home trying to figure out what to do next.
The three older ones were in school during the day, at least until Christmas break. He would just have to take Travis around the ranch with him, or postpone his work until he could find someone to come in and look after the boy.
Who could he find, especially at this time of year? Everybody was busy with their own families.
He dropped his head into his hand and sat there at the desk, trying not to feel his weariness. He still had to get upstairs and find those blasted decorations, help the kids decorate the tree, give Travis his bath and make sure the girls got to bed at a decent hour.
“Oh, Patti,” he whispered. “I need you so much.”
Daddy's Angel Page 2
