Mistletoe Twins. Lois Richer
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that he’d been born and raised on a ranch but had lost it all after his father died.
“I really hope your sister pushes him to try her trail ride idea. Mac needs a new venture to test his skills and help him forget his troubles.” Then Gabe tipped his hat and strode away.
What troubles? Adele didn’t get the impression the foreman was talking about Mac’s indecision about taking over the ranch, so what—
“Look at me, Delly!” Francie was riding by herself. Mac stood to one side, watching her intently but not interfering, though he did call out occasional directions.
Adele pulled out her phone and snapped several pictures, suddenly aware that she was including Mac in every frame. Well, why not? Francie should have memories of such a great teacher, she justified as she snapped several more. The one she liked best caught Mac midlaugh as the little girl whooped for joy.
“This one could ride the broncs, Delly,” he called to her, his grin wide.
Adele caught her breath. For a moment he looked exactly like the old Mac, carefree, enjoying the moment. Then his face grew more serious as he called a halt to the ride. Francie flung her arms around Mac’s neck as he helped her slide off, eyes shining with delight.
“Thank you. That was so fun!” She raced toward Adele and her brother. “You gotta try.”
“I think you’ll like it, Franklyn,” Mac said quietly when the boy hesitated.
After some cheering words from his sister and Mac’s repeated reassurances, which Adele knew were most effective because they had to do with the boy’s ability to brag that he’d been horseback riding, Franklyn tentatively walked forward. Though Adele couldn’t hear exactly what Mac said, as Franklyn climbed on the little horse he lost the trepidation she’d seen just moments before. Within seconds he was trotting around the paddock, calling encouragement to Esther and trying to one-up Francie.
Again Adele took a host of pictures, and again she included Mac in most of them. Then she took a final one, a close-up preserving Franklyn’s disappointed expression at the end of the session and Mac’s soft wistful smile. Mac and kids. He’d always adored them.
“When can I go again?” Francie’s eagerness was unmistakable.
“Another day for sure,” Mac said. “Want to say thank-you for the ride?”
“Horses don’t know people talk,” Francie asserted. Then, uncertainly, “Do they?”
“Yes.” When both kids frowned at Mac, he showed them the apples he’d left in a sack outside the pen and told the children to each get one. “They understand the tone of your voice, especially when you say thank-you.”
“Thank you for the ride, Esther.” Francie giggled as the horse snatched the apple, gobbled it down and then bumped her head against the little girl. Esther did the same with Franklyn.
“That’s how Esther says you’re welcome,” Mac told them with a chuckle.
Something inside Adele jumped for joy at the tender expression on his face as he brushed the horse’s shaggy mane with his hand. It had been the right choice to come here with the kids. This was the real Mac, not that pretend person who wanted her to believe he was fine.
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