Chapter 5
Ty had managed the shower, found a t-shirt and a pair of sweat-pants that looked long enough in the leg for a ten-foot-tall man, and got ready for bed without taking a slug of whiskey that he’d spotted in the cupboard while looking for a glass to take a drink of water.
After he turned out the bedside lamp and crawled into the very comfortable queen-sized bed, he relaxed his head on the pillows, and watched while the darkness in the room grew.
Then that darkness eased into a faint glow coming from the kitchen into the bedroom, produced by the clock over the stove, perhaps, or the single unblinking green eye of the smoke detector somewhere in the very short hallway leading to the living room.
At least the light was gentle, the whisper of the mini split unobtrusive, so he was able to fall asleep inside of minutes, rather than the hours it usually took.
And in the morning, after he pulled on his now-dry blue jeans, he discovered, as he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, that he’d missed two phone calls and a text message, all from Bill.
We’re at the barn, and Bea couldn’t wait for presents, but we will wait breakfast for you.
Ty scrambled into his clothes, breathless, pulled on his flannel shirt and down vest, stomped into his boots, and stepped out onto the front porch.
The sun was up, the sky bright as a shining blue stone, the sun a spotlight of gold. The air was utterly still. Frost speckled the air and when he took a deep breath the cold reached all the way inside of him.
He hurried up the path, half erased by the blowing winds the night before, and stepped into the barn.
There, by the doorway to Leland’s office, was a paper bag full of crumpled holiday wrapping paper.
A metal pail held ash from the fire pit the night, cold and gray and still, and his heart dipped because he’d missed Christmas.
Near one of the box stalls stood Bea and Austin, and just inside the open door to the box stall was Cinders. Her head was down, curved in a gentle way, and Bea’s two hands cupped her muzzle, an expression of warmth and love all at the same time.
By the faint tear streaks on Bea’s face it was easy to see the little girl was upset.
Ty figured the same issue from the night before was the cause. He went closer, even as he knew there was nothing he could do about the air of dejection that hung about her like a cloud.
“Bea,” said Austin, steadily. “We talked about this. The winds will come and scour away the snow but there’s just too much of it now.”
“But if I fall off, the snow will make it soft,” Bea insisted, like she’d been saying this since the sun came up.
“It’s not about you, Bea,” said Austin, more sternly now. “It’s about Cinders.”
Bill came out of Leland’s office. He was holding out a small wrapped package that Ty knew in his heart was a present that had been snagged from someone else’s pile. Still, he appreciated the gesture and held his hand out for it.
“Thank you,” he said as he unwrapped the present.
“You gotta have something to open on Christmas morning,” said Bill, swiping his thumb across his gray mustache, silent, warmly watchful.
The present was a warm red wool scarf that looked hand knitted. The tassel ends were tightly done, the red threads silky. As Ty wrapped the scarf around his neck, a shiver of warmth went through him, and he smiled at Bill, feeling a small joy at the moment.
“But Dad,” said Bea, tears still in her voice. “I’ll just ask Daddy Clay.”
“Daddy Clay says the same,” said Clay as he came out of the tack room with a soft body brush for Cinders. “You can brush her down, and then walk her up and down inside the barn a little.”
“Why can’t she ride Cinders this morning?” asked Ty, his heart oddly wrenching at the thought of the little girl being unable to have her heart’s desire on Christmas morning.
“It’s cold,” said Bill. “But more than that, the snow is deep, and the tractor we normally use to plow the road is on the fritz.”
“Oh,” said Ty, feeling useless as he stood there while Bill went into Leland’s office and came out with two cups of hot coffee from the new Keurig machine.
Ty tasted his, it was creamy and tasted of hazelnut and was a bit on the sweet side, but he was grateful for it, just the same.
“Yeah,” said Bill as he watched Clay petting Cinders’ soft nose.
“Normally Jasper, our blacksmith, he’d already have taken care of it, but he’s stuck in his cabin down the road.
But he’s been busy making more of those fire pits, like the one we got here.
That and jewelry made out of horseshoe nails and suchlike so some of the general mechanical maintenance has fallen by the wayside. ”
Not sounding like he was blaming Jasper at all, Bill gestured to the as yet unlit fire pit sitting cold and still in the middle of the barn.
Ty worked his jaw. He knew he could fix that tractor and plow the road clear in under half an hour. But was it his place? He wasn’t either of Bea’s two dads, so he should keep his mouth shut and mark the time until he could reach someone to pull his rig out of the ditch it was currently in.
Or….
Or he could make an offer to fix the tractor and plow the road, only to have it turned down.
Or….
Or he could simply find the tractor, fix it, and plow the road, all without asking permission, and let the chips fall where they might.
It was the least he could do to repay the ranch’s kindness for taking him in for the night. Not to mention, his own heart was about to break at the sight of Bea’s face, and those big green eyes so desperate with the hope that one of her two dads would change their mind.
He walked into Leland’s office and put his half-finished cup of coffee on the desk, then came out again, zipping up his down vest, pulling his gloves out of his pocket, tightening the scarf around his neck.
“Bill,” he said, low, so only Bill could hear what he had to say. “Where’s that tractor?”
“Can you fix it?” asked Bill, his mouth barely moving from behind the edge of his coffee cup, his eyes never moving from Cinders in her box stall.
“I can try,” said Ty, a bit of brightness building in his chest. His own life might be in tatters but that didn’t mean that Bea and Cinders couldn’t have a terrific Christmas morning.