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Chapter One
If anyone needed a merry Christmas that year it was Dana. But the chances of that were slim. Eight years ago, on the day she was born, Daddy had left her and Mama and not even the remotest cousins knew where to forward his mail any longer—nor did they care. Then Mama had left just two weeks ago. But everyone knew what her forwarding address was for sure: heaven. After that, Mama's friend Miss Milly had put Dana on a plane for a place called Kansas City and between tears and hugs and kisses had promised to write.
The little girl's flight arrived early in the morning. She was groggy with sleep when the flight attendant woke her and tried to help her shoulder a pink and green backpack. But standing tall in all of her four-foot dignity she shook off the hovering hands and put it on herself.
I don't need help, she thought. I'm eight years old and on my own. I can take care of myself just fine.
Two stubby blonde braids and patches of stray hair stuck out wildly beneath her blue cloche hat. She looked exactly like a sorry little scarecrow, freed from its poles to sag all alone in a cornfield. Trudging out of the plane with the other somber passengers, she kept her eyes trained on the wheels of a suitcase in front of her. One wheel, which was off a bit, made a whirring noise like a tiny, toy helicopter. I wish I could fly up to heaven right now and see Mama, she thought to herself.
The gate area was stunningly bright, with a hundred rays of morning light reflecting off the glass. Dana shaded her eyes and almost walked past the special service attendant who was supposed to hand her and the documents over to her grandfather.
The two of them sat down and waited and waited, but there was no sign of him. Families around them squealed with delight and laughter. She watched them hug and kiss and slap one another on the back. The attendant tried to be friendly but Dana ignored her, searching beyond the smiling faces for a thatch of gray hair.
"Are you sure your grandpa knew when to meet you?" the attendant asked, pacing back and forth now in front of Dana's chair.
"Yes, he knew. Miss Milly said he'd be here. She's Mama's friend."
"We've been waiting twenty minutes. Where could he be?"
"I don't know."
"Let's go on down to baggage claim. He'll just have to find us there. I've got to meet another flight in ten minutes."
Even as the suitcases tumbled onto the baggage carousel Dana kept peering around bodies and over heads for the face in the photo on Mama's desk. When the crowd dispersed, just her two bags were left going round and round and round until a porter finally lifted them off.
"Are these your bags, little miss?" he asked in a jaunty voice.
She swallowed hard and nodded.
"Shame to let your bags spin round like that. They might get dizzy." He winked with a grin, lay the bags beside her, and walked off.
The attendant sat with her legs crossed and bounced one up and down while tapping the arm of the chair impatiently with long, red fingernails. She sighed and looked at her watch.
"Where can he be?" She was starting to sound angry.
Dana sat down on one of her bags and swallowed hard. Don't cry, she scolded herself fiercely. Don't be a baby. She put her head down and pushed her knuckles into her eyes to hold back the tears. Just then she felt a heavy hand on her head and heard a soft grunt.
"Sorry I'm late. Took me an hour and half to get here. The rain and sleet's got traffic backed up for miles ... and the Christmas shoppers only add to the confusion."
"Well, better late than never." The attendant chattered with relief. She handed Grandpa the papers to sign and took off running for the escalators.
Dana looked up to a creamy grizzled beard that nearly hid a strong wrinkled face just the color of gingerbread. He flashed a quick smile, then promptly buried it back in the beard. Dana hopped up and grabbed her backpack.
By now she was no longer scared or embarrassed, she was just plain mad. "You're late!"
"I know. I just said I was. Also said I'm sorry. Are these two bags all your stuff, little girlie?"
Dana nodded and followed him out into the cold morning air. He was wearing a crisp black cowboy hat that had two little pins on it. One said "Kansas" inset in a shape of the state. The other said, "Jesus Loves You." The letters were red and white. She craned her neck to read them.
He was a short, burly man, and she noticed he walked with a limp, which gave her a peculiar feeling cause she wasn't expecting it. Mama had never talked about him much, and you couldn't tell that sort of thing from a photo. I wish he wouldn't call me "little girlie," she thought to herself. I'm NOT little!
They headed out to the barren, snow-gray parking lot, Dana scrambling to keep up with the rapid, uneven gait of his boots. Grandfather walked to a red truck, snapped down the back, and stacked the suitcases neatly inside. When he opened the door and tried to help her into the cab she shook him off. She didn't need help from him or anybody else. He looked at her, puzzled for a moment, then thought to himself. We're not getting off to a very good start, well. She's tired and hurting, like a little doe that's been pawed by a mountain lion. I'll have to give her time ... If things don't work out ... Pastor Ben said they'd have room for her at the Youth Ranch in Cottonport ... but I do admire her gumption.
Dana spent the trip purposefully looking out the window away from Grandfather while the suburbs gave way to country towns, and four-lane roads turned to muddy, farm tracks. He made small talk for a while but got tired of the one-way conversation and turned instead to the safe, familiar world of his own thoughts. What kind of mess have I got myself into this time? I'm all she's got left in this world but that's no bargain. And how can an old rancher like me take care of a young girl from the city, anyway? I'm afraid this is going to be a very long, cold winter ... whether we get more snow or not!
At last they turned in past a John Deere tractor mailbox down a long gravel drive. The truck lurched over bumps and holes and slid to a stop in front of the house—an old country house with a broad front porch. It was white, bleached from all the years of laying in the sun at the end of the drive like a cat with a flattened tail, gazing through half-shut eyes at the woods nearby. Nestled at its back was a small, red barn, and on its western side, in front of the barn, lay a large fenced pasture. As Dana slid out of the truck, something caught her eye. She looked back quickly and sucked in her breath. At the far end of the field a black mare, tall and stately, was galloping in wide circles. Her legs were slim and strong and her coat gleamed in the bright rays of sun breaking through the clouds.
Grandfather turned in surprise to see Dana staring at the horse. "That's Rhiannon," he explained eagerly. "She's a good horse. Used to be your grandmother Rosie's. Your mother loved to ride her, too, ... before she moved to the city ... and got married ..." His voice trailed off.
They watched the horse for a moment, both lost in thought. Grandfather rested his eyes on the little girl at his side. She's such a tiny little thing, but full of spunk. Just like her mother at that age. I'll bet she loves horses like her mama did too. The puckered frown had slid off her face for one brief moment, and there was a spark of light in her sad green eyes.
He shook himself out of the reverie. "Let's go inside and get something to eat."
(Continues...)
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