A Cowboy’s Honor Read online

  Especially a husband.

  “Believe me, I know exactly how long it’s been.” Bitterness tinged Gracie’s voice in spite of her best efforts to pretend nonchalance.

  “So why didn’t you get a divorce?”

  “Stop pushing me!” she snapped, then immediately shook her head. “I’m sorry, Dallas.”

  “It’s okay.” But it wasn’t. He wanted to figure out why she hadn’t let him go and found someone new.

  “I don’t have an answer for you. For a while I thought you’d come back, show up on the doorstep with some long-winded explanation about where you’d been, why you hadn’t called.”

  “And when I didn’t?”

  “I didn’t have the money to find out about how to get a divorce. I didn’t have the money for anything.” The dam holding back her anger broke. “I wasn’t just sitting in a chair waiting for you to show up, you know. I had to get on with my life. You were gone, my dad was gone. I had to find a way to survive.”

  “I’m sorry.” It didn’t help, but at least now he knew. “You wanted to, though, didn’t you?’

  He needed her to answer that.

  “At one point, early on, I considered divorce.” Gracie steered toward a white house tucked under a weeping willow. “It doesn’t matter now, does it?”

  “I don’t know.” Dallas pressed his hands flat against his knees.

  “This is my place.” Gracie pulled up to the house, taking great pains to align her vehicle perfectly with the post in front before she shut off the motor. She climbed out of the truck quickly, opened the rear door and lifted out her parcels. She was halfway up the path, her sandals rustling the pea gravel, before she noticed he hadn’t followed.

  “Come on, Dallas. Let’s go inside.” Gracie waited until he’d joined her. “This is what I call home now. Elizabeth gave—”

  The front door flew open. A miniature blond whirlwind appeared on the step, hopping up and down on one foot. “Did you get it? Did you get it?”

  Dallas glanced at Gracie. Love washed over her face.

  “Yes, I got it. And I want you to meet someone. But let’s go inside first.” She smiled at the little girl before motioning for him to follow her. “I’ll introduce you to Elizabeth Wisdom.”

  “Hi, Gracie. We had a lovely afternoon together.” A tall, gray-haired woman stood by the kitchen counter. She nodded at him. “I see you brought some company along. Welcome to the Bar None.”

  “Thanks.” This was the benefactor? To Dallas she looked more like a grandmother.

  “Shall I leave you now, Gracie? Or do you need me a bit longer?”

  “If it wouldn’t be too much more of an imposition, I’d like you to stay, Elizabeth. This concerns you, indirectly.” Gracie grabbed Dallas’s arm and drew him into the living room.

  He glanced around. There was not an item out of place. That deliberate neatness struck him as odd, especially with a child present. But then maybe the little girl didn’t live here.

  Elizabeth arched one brow before nodding. She studied Dallas as she took a seat on the white love seat. Foreboding rushed over him, but he pushed it away. The doctor had told him to be prepared for surprises. All he could do was silently pray for courage as he waited for Gracie to make the next move.

  “Have a seat,” his wife told him.

  Dallas chose the big armchair. Perched on the edge, he felt as if his life teetered on the edge of a precipice.

  “Who else is here, Mommy?”

  Mommy? He blinked as his wife grasped one tiny hand and led the child to stand in front of him.

  “Honey, I want you to meet Dallas.” Gracie’s pretty face went white. The next words threatened to choke her, but she forced them out anyway. “Dallas, this is Misty. My daughter.”

  “Dallas?” Misty’s halting voice held uncertainty. Her fingers curled into Gracie’s, seeking reassurance.

  “Yes, sweetheart.” Gracie’s tear-filled blue eyes begged him to understand.

  “Oh. Dallas was my daddy’s name. Are you my daddy?” The tiny girl wearing a mussed blue dress touched his knee, and in doing so, grabbed hold of Dallas’s heart.

  His daughter. Misty.

  Her voice was an immature imitation of her mom’s. Feathery golden curls spilled to her shoulders. Also like her mother’s. Perfect features in a sun-kissed face. Pink bow lips that didn’t smile or frown.

  But Misty was not all Gracie. The jut of her chin, the dimple that flickered to life at the edge of her mouth—he knew those were his gifts to her. He’d studied his own features in the mirror so often, trying to figure out who he was.

  He was a father.

  Dallas’s insides melted in wonder and intense love as he gazed into eyes that perfectly blended Misty’s parental heritage, not quite green, not quite blue.

  “Mommy?” Misty murmured, her voice uncertain, hesitant.

  “Yes, honey. Dallas is your daddy.” Gracie’s voice seemed to come from far away.

  Dallas studied his daughter, wondered how Misty could know his name.

  “I talked about you,” Gracie murmured.

  “My mommy told me a lot about you. Only she thought you were in Heaven.” Misty stared past him, unblinking. “But you’re not in Heaven. You’re right here.”

  “Yes, I am.” In that second Dallas understood what Gracie hadn’t been able to say.

  Misty was blind.

  His heart cracked, but he refused to allow pain to edge its way into his voice. Not now. Not while she waited for his reaction.

  “It’s very nice to meet you, Misty.” Dallas touched her hand, allowed her delicate fingers to wrap around his own. “You’re a very pretty girl. You look like your mommy.”

  “My mommy’s beautiful.” Misty’s smile reappeared. “I want to be just like her.”

  “I’m sure you do.” Uncertain if she’d accept a hug, Dallas kept his arms by his sides, leaving the decision to Misty. She stepped back, reaching toward her mother.

  Gracie grasped her hand but did not try to draw Misty away from him. Dallas was grateful for that. He wanted to know more about his daughter, he just wasn’t sure where to start.

  “Are you sure you’re my daddy?”

  He nodded, realized Misty wouldn’t see that. It would take time to get used to the situation, but even though he’d only met her, he knew he’d go to any lengths to protect this beautiful child.

  My daughter.

  “Yes, Misty. I really am your father. I’m Dallas Henderson.” He glanced at Gracie, trying to silently communicate his appreciation for the way she was allowing them to find their own way.

  “Oh.” Misty frowned, bow lips pursed in a peevish frown. “Didn’t you want to have a girl like me? Is that why you didn’t come visit us sooner?”

  Like me. The cautious question sent a message. Misty was afraid he wouldn’t love her. Because she was blind.

  The knowledge hit low and deep. Dallas steeled himself, turned his pain into a prayer, as he had ever since he’d woken from his coma.

  Oh, Lord, if only I’d been here for her, been able to reassure her that I’ll love her no matter what. Help me now.

  “No, Misty. That’s not why I didn’t come.” He knelt in front of her, pushed a golden strand off her face. “I couldn’t come because I didn’t remember anything about your mommy and I didn’t know how to find her. That’s why I never met you until now. I’m sorry.”

  Five years of his daughter’s life had passed without him, and there was nothing Dallas could do about that. He had to focus on now, on what they could have—if he handled this right.

  “Are you all better now?” She bumped against his arm like an awkward colt.

  “Mostly all better. I would have come sooner if I could have, Misty. Don’t ever think I wasn’t with you because I didn’t want to be.”

  “Okay.” She stood silent for several moments. Waiting.

  Though Dallas searched her face, he could not discern her reaction to his words. She hid her emotions well, jus
t like her mother.

  We need time together, Lord.

  A whisper-soft sound from the love seat drew Misty’s attention. Dallas realized suddenly that though she couldn’t see, his daughter’s heightened senses made her aware of everything in the room. Misty would miss very little.

  “I have trouble with my memory,” he explained. “It’s kind of…broken.”

  “Like my dollhouse,” she said knowingly. “Your voice is sad. You’re not smiling.”

  “In my heart I’m wearing a very big smile,” he told her softly. “A little while ago I didn’t know I had a daughter. Now I can hardly believe I didn’t know it a long time ago.” Dallas glanced at Gracie, saw the tears in her eyes and knew she had thought about this moment many times.

  Probably feared it, too.

  Which would explain her reluctance to bring him here without preparing her daughter ahead of time. For it was very clear to him that Gracie loved this child more than anything.

  “Can I see you?” Misty asked quietly.

  Gracie opened her mouth to explain, but Dallas shook his head at her. He knew exactly what Misty meant.

  “Of course you can.” When she held out her tiny hand, he took it and guided it to his face. “Go ahead, Misty.”

  The moment her baby-soft skin touched his cheek, Dallas closed his eyes and soaked in the sensations. Like stick men, her fingers walked over his forehead, slid around to “see” the shape of his face, the length of his nose, his cheekbones and his mouth. He smiled when she brushed his ear, and her fingers quickly slid back across his lips, found the dimple that matched her own.

  “Mommy doesn’t have these,” she said.

  Dallas blinked, studied his wife.

  True, but Gracie had everything else a woman could ask for. A perfect figure, sun-streaked golden-brown hair that tipped up at her chin in a perky style. A model’s oval face boasting a natural, barely tanned glow.

  “You got hurt.”

  Misty’s careful probing gentled on his scalp. She’d missed nothing.

  “I hurt my head a while ago.”

  “Is it sore?” she asked, gently touching the rumpled edges of healed tissue buried just beneath his hairline.

  “No, not anymore.”

  “How did you get it?”

  “I don’t know,” he told her simply. “I can’t remember.”

  Dallas glanced up at a wall of photographs. A picture of Gracie holding her brand-new baby forced home exactly what he’d forgotten. Until now he’d known he was missing details, but faced with the visual progression of his daughter’s life, he suddenly realized the totality of what he’d lost and could never recapture.

  Why, God?

  “You’re looking at my wall, aren’t you?” Misty’s chest puffed out.

  “Your wall?” Stupid question. Dallas could clearly see that the pictures all centered on Misty. “Yes, I am. I never knew anybody who had a whole wall of their own. It’s very interesting.”

  “Interesting is a word adults use when they can’t think of anything else to say.” Her fingertips brushed his cheek again before she dropped her arm to her side. “Mommy, did you get the part for my dollhouse?”

  “Yes, I did. I put it on the counter by the cookie jar. Perhaps Elizabeth will help you. I want to talk to Dallas for a few minutes.”

  “Okay.” Misty walked purposefully toward the kitchen, felt unerringly for the bag next to a brown ceramic bear, then shifted toward the love seat. “Elizabeth, will you please help me?”

  So easily she dismissed him. Dallas wanted to weep.

  “I’d love to help, dear. Though you’ll have to show me what to do. I’ve never fixed a dollhouse before.”

  “Don’t worry, I have. I know exactly how to do it.” Misty paused in the doorway. “Will I see you later, Dallas? Is he staying for dinner, Mommy?”

  “I’m not sure yet. We’ll have to see. Be careful of the sharp places, honey.”

  “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 as
k 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.