BRAD’S BORDER COLLIE, QUEENIE, HAD HER FIRST litter of puppies on Christmas Eve. The family’s usual holiday routine, upon returning from the candlelight service at church, was completely forgotten as Brad, Penny, and their dad observed the birth from the hall outside the laundry room. Any one of them was ready to step in if the dog appeared to be in distress, but the first-time mother took labor and delivery in stride, giving birth to a half dozen healthy puppies without complaint.
“Look at this one,” Penny said now as she cradled one of the newborns in the palms of her hands. “It has a lot of brown on its face. Kind of a ginger-brown shade.”
Brad couldn’t remember a time when the Cartwrights hadn’t owned at least two border collies, sometimes as many as four. All of their ranch dogs had been black with varying degrees of white markings. There’d never been one with brown markings anywhere in the mix.
“That’s what we’ll have to call it.” Penny held the puppy up a little higher. “Ginger.”
“If you have a Ginger,” his dad said, “you’re going to need a Fred too.”
“Who’s Fred?” Brad asked.
His dad laughed softly. “You know, Fred and Ginger. Like the dancers in those old movies I like to watch.”
Brad failed to understand, but it was easier to just act like he did. “You don’t even know if Ginger’s a girl.” He took up another mewling puppy. “But if it is, then we’ll call this one Fred.”
“If it’s a boy,” his dad and sister added in unison.
Brad knew right then that he wouldn’t be selling Fred or Ginger, no matter their genders. These two would remain on the ranch for their whole lives. With his dad’s help, he would train them, the same way he’d trained Queenie and Queenie’s parents.
An image of his mom, kneeling beside a box full of puppies, wafted through his memory. He could barely recall her face without the help of photographs, but he remembered her hands as she’d held one of the puppies. Hands with long, narrow fingers and a gentle touch. The way she’d drawn it close and rubbed its coat against her cheek. And the dogs had always loved her in return. In fact, they’d been obedient to all the family, but they’d been most devoted to his mom.
He glanced up at his dad. Was he remembering something similar? Could be, judging by his wistful expression.
“Come on, you two,” his dad said. “Time we were all in bed. Santa won’t come if you’re still awake.”
Brad and Penny exchanged a glance. Their dad had said similar words to them every Christmas Eve for as far back as they could remember. And it didn’t seem to matter that neither of them had believed in Santa for over a decade. He just went on saying it. Brad wouldn’t admit it to his sister, but he hoped their dad never stopped saying it. It was tradition now.
He put the black-and-white puppy into the clean bed with Queenie and its siblings. Penny followed suit a moment later with the ginger-faced pup. Then they both rose from the floor and headed for their upstairs bedrooms, Penny wrapping an arm around Brad’s waist. She used to wrap it over his shoulder, but he was the taller one now.
“That’s something I miss when I’m at college,” she said as they stopped in the hallway outside of her bedroom.
“What?”
“Seeing the baby animals born. Calves. Colts. Puppies. Kittens. Chicks. I didn’t realize how much I loved being surrounded by all the new life until I was away from it my first year.” She gave his waist a squeeze before taking a step closer to her doorway. “I’m glad I was here for this.”
Brad thought he was too old to get all mushy and sentimental with his sister. So he swallowed the threatening lump in his throat and gave her a nod to say he was glad too.
She smiled. “See you in the morning.”
“Pen?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re all right. You know that?”
“I love you too, buddy. I love you too.”