5

Sleeping in my mom’s girlhood bed all night had me thinking a lot rather than dreaming. How different my childhood had been from Brodie’s and Ilka’s. Now, I too had been blessed with material advantage most people didn’t have—Daddy is wildly successful. But mostly I get to do things the way I want. I don’t have to worry about a sneak-attack photo op while wearing the wrong color nail polish. Or smiling too big or too small, or having to be incognito at college. I guess I’d never thought about that side of being royal.

I’m not sounding selfish here. I help at the horse rescue and train new volunteers. I’d taught Sunday school to three-years-olds all through high school and played the handbells in church.

Not that I’m so great. But I do these things in gratitude to God, to serve Him, to make my faith alive. To help guide me in those things I do for me in His name. Not because I have an image to protect.

Brodie hung close to me in my thoughts, and I tried my best to understand him. Did he lament his life while not recognizing its beauty? I mean, he had little freedom and a lot of rules and an unconventional family life, but he also had tremendous opportunities that most people didn’t. And he was obviously smart. Surely he could figure out honoring his country’s traditions and serving his own ambitions. I prayed before finally snatching one quick dream of him, that he might seek out God to guide him.

He never lets us down.

Anyway, because I’d pontificated so much inside my head all night, I woke up tired even after my splendid Brodie dream. It had lasted just one second and didn’t tell a story or have my heart beat—just his beautiful face framed by the Rockies. But that was a photo-op I’d keep. At the same time, my veins heated a little when I realized he had promised to see me today. If nothing else, I would be his friend, protect him, keep his secret with all the relatives due to arrive.

I splashed through a quick shower. Mom hadn’t grown up with an en suite bathroom. It had been added for tourists when Hearts Crossing morphed into part-guest ranch to increase income during a spate of financial losses. Many guests had slept, and would sleep, in this charming room with its magnificent view. Talk about something becoming wildly successful! Then I slid into a pair of good jeans and zipped them while heading to my suitcase to see what I’d packed to wear.

On the way, surrounded with pinecones on the mantel, I saw a picture of Mom, her first husband, and Matty when he was a baby. Rachel’s first husband Nick had been deployed in the Middle East when his son was born, and my uncle Scott had managed to digitally add his picture—handsome in his uniform—with one of Mom holding their child. It had been her Christmas present that year. Nick came home a war hero, awarded the Silver Star, but had died in a foolish accident just a few months later. To make it worse, they’d been having problems and let them fester. I know in her ways, my stepmom still grieved over the lost time, the lost opportunities. What her experience told me? —not that you’d eventually find love in unexpected places like she’d found with Daddy—but that not a minute of the life God has given should be wasted. Don’t put off what needs to be done.

So today was the day. For all my truths to be told.

In the end, I settled on a simple red sweater but paired it with earrings made from teeny glass ornaments and my green plaid eyeglass frames. Then I paused for longer than ever before for make-up and curling iron, and headed downstairs for my boots and breakfast. And Brodie.

Loud male voices from the giant kitchen informed me the hands were eating breakfast in the house this morning. Sometimes an old-timer made them pioneer stuff in the bunkhouse, but Gram-Elaine usually cooked a feast for anybody who wanted to show up at the breakfast table.

Of course, I hoped one of those masculine voices belonged to Brodie. On the sideboard in the nearby dining room, Gram-Elaine’s typical fare had already been dug into like an archeological site. Ham, bacon, sausage patties and links. Country potatoes, three types of eggs including spinach-tomato omelets. Oh, and a big bowl of blueberry-basil compote. (Grams grew her own herbs and blueberry bushes, of course.)

And there he was, holding a plate, leaning against the center island, jawing with Nate, several of the cowboys—all of whom I knew and one I didn’t, which I suspected was Fred. They all howled out a “morning, Addie,” Brodie and Fred included. A tad flustered, I turned my back and headed for the coffee urn. Gram-Elaine’s wagon-wheel sized cinnamon rolls were all but gone, so I cut the last one in fourths. It would do me just fine.

From the big kitchen window, I noticed that it had snowed lightly in the night. Soft whiteness covered everything, hiding dirty ice, rocks, rusted chains…reminded me like always how God’s love made the old new, the ugly better. If you trusted Him. He never let you down and never sent a burden too heavy. Never set you on a course without being close by to hold you up or lend a hand if you got lost along the way. It was my morning prayer that Brodie could see the way and the light.

At that second, the rising sun tossed a ray on the snow that reflected straight at me. And Brodie was at my side by the window, bringing a scent of pine and almost sky.

“Hey, Addie.” He put a big cup of coffee to his lips as if wondering what to say next.

“Hey back.” I said after swallowing my bite of cinnamon roll.

Brodie snickered in approval. “Those things are brilliant. I’ll have to get the recipe for our chef.”

I laughed out loud. “Dream on. Grams and my aunt Kelley keep their recipes secret. Top secret.”

“Even for a prince?” He fake-pouted, and I laughed again. Realized his secret was no secret among the wranglers. As if on cue, Fred caught my eye and gave me the same hi-bye salute Brodie had upon leaving me last night.

And that reminded me. “Not to be nosy, but, um, did it go OK with your sister?”

Sudden sadness dulled his golden-brown eyes. I was sorry to have changed the subject. “Yes and no. Let’s take this outside.”

“Sure.” We headed toward the back door.

On cue, the guys collectively emitted “aw” in different tones and volumes. As if we were a couple or something. With a chuckle, Brodie rolled his eyes at them, and I noticed Nate give me a sweet smile.

Wrapped in our jackets, we stepped outside, and the icy morning blasted our faces, Immediately, my glasses fogged up against my hot cheeks. I was flustered from the cowboys. Of course, I am used to Colorado. But Brodie gasped as the frosty temperature while I wiped my lenses. Setting his coffee cup on the back porch railing, he turned up the collar of his thick jacket and jammed gloves from his pocket on his fingers and a beanie on his head.

“Brrrrrr.” Brodie shivered, but it was just a regular day for me.

We headed toward the corral. “Now, now,” I teased. “Surely you’re joking. You explained Dornfeld is near Iceland. ICE-land, your royal highness.”

“But we have volcanoes and hot springs everywhere,” he responded. “Besides, I’ve just come from Los Angeles.”

“OK, I get it.” And I did. Growing up there, a cold winter day was about fifty degrees. Above zero.

He gave me a smile a million times sweeter than Nate’s. “I’m sorry about last night, Addie. Running off like that.”

His gentle voice swished over me like a warm spring breeze. But hard regret darkened his eyes. Seeing it kind of warmed me, too.

But he had to know. “No need, Brodie. You don’t owe me any kind of apology. Family always comes first around here.” I hesitated, but pushed on. “I just hoped and prayed you’re both doing OK.”

“I know,” he said with a shrug. “But I guess I’m just disappointed.”

“Why?” I wanted the reason to be me.

“You said we won’t have another chance….”

To be alone, I finished inside my head. My heart started to sing. Brodie’s lips moved as though he might say something else, but right on cue again, the mob of wranglers interrupted us with their whoops and noise. They dashed past us down the back porch steps, waving and whistling, dashing out down the steps to finish their chores.

At the same time, hurtling down the ranch’s mile-long driveway from the highway, the first carload of kin from Grampa-Doyle’s High Noon Ranch honked, arms waving and voices shrieking from rolled-down windows.

I knew what had to be done, or within seconds, Brodie and I would be beset with hugs, introductions, and gossip that would keep us trapped for an hour. I’d give them all that later. Grampa-Doyle’s niece Kitty and I had gotten along like BFFs from the second we met years ago, but she and I could hang out any time. Brodie, he’d be gone soon. My heart did its funny little ping again.

“Listen,” I told him taking his hand. “There’s only one way out of this. Let’s take a trail ride.”

He beamed like all the kids, even me, would do on Christmas morning. “You’re on.”

Still hanging on to his hand, I pulled him, running and laughing, toward the barn to saddle up. Even with his gloves, my fingers sparked.



Brodie sat a horse so perfectly he was a cowboy, centaur, knight in shining armor, and Olympic equestrian wrapped into one Christmas package. To complete his look, I’d plunked somebody’s leftover Stetson atop his beanie.

“I’d love a grand tour of this place,” he said humbly, and I got it. At home, he probably only had to bark an order to get obeyed. One thing, even though I’d only known him one day, he never behaved pushy or snooty. In fact, his manners and humility and, well, normalness, had stolen special places in my heart.

“You’re on.” My whole body, my whole self, gleamed in the morning sun.

By the time we passed the corral again, wrangler Topeka had it full of horses and was busy putting reindeer antlers on their noble heads. But nothing, not even fake plush racks, could ever water down a horse’s beauty.

“What? Antlers?” Brodie burst into a laugh that turned white on the cold air.

“Everybody gets in the Christmas spirit here at the ranch,” I chuckled. “There will be lots of kids here, and we all turn to kids at Christmas, right? There will be sleigh rides, gingerbread houses, taffy pulls. Millions of cookies to decorate. The works. So you’re gonna need to cowboy up.”

Brodie laughed again and hooted at Topeka as we rode by. “Where’re your antlers, Tope?”

The cowboy grinned, flushed beneath his beard. “Your day’s a’coming, princey boy.” He waggled a set. “Got your antlers right here. Now y’all have a great ride.”

“We sure will,” Brodie called back with a loud laugh.

Like I said, nothing stuck-up at all about Brodie.

We trotted toward the west trails, out of sight of any oncoming carloads. Strings of lights outlined every fence we passed and every outbuilding.

Brodie pointed at some. “Last night, it was like Hearts Crossing was wrapped in fallen stars. Must take the whole of January taking all those lights down.”

“Everybody helps. See those warehouses?” I pointed. Giant wreathes hung on massive doors. “That’s where we store the covered wagons and chuck wagons during the winter. We run tours all summer long.”

Brodie sighed another frozen burst of air. “Something out of a Wild West movie, for sure. You ever go along?”

“Of course. It’s awesome.” And I meant it. The wagon train trips were legendry. “The whole family takes part in everything all summer long. We get paid, too. A built-in summer job. I’m gonna miss the first month of tours this year, though.” Because of the holidays, mostly because of Brodie, I hadn’t thought too far ahead in my future.

“Why? Summer classes?”

But England was suddenly staring me in the face, jangling my nerves a little. “In a way. I’m leaving in early January for a six-month study abroad. Won’t be getting back home until late June. Our wagon train tours start in May.”

“Study abroad? Hmmmm. Where?”

“Sussex. England.”

“Hmmmm.” He started a bit ahead of me, riding the wonderful Joe Montana as if in such deep thought he didn’t realize we were no longer side by side. I maneuvered ahead of him on Big Red, one of our oldest therapy horses who deserved some free time after his long career helping kids.

“Follow me.” I led Brodie up a slowly-elevating trail toward the white, curvy foothills. Above us, the Rockies shone like the spires of a heavenly mansion, the clouds streaming with cold and sun, parting like archangels leaving God’s throne.

Silvery branches of winter-bare aspen reached for us from one side of the trail. From the other, snow-covered boulders fenced us in, almost like dismembered snowman parts. The next overlook, we’d have the ranch’s best view of Old Joe’s Hole, a jewel of a mountain lake named for the ancestor who first homesteaded here long ago.

It was also the place for Hearts Crossing destination weddings, with its grotto of hand-hewn log benches roofed by pine branches.

I explained it all to Brodie, who listened as if I had important things to say and a soothing voice to hear. I rolled my own eyes at the indulgent thought.

“Rache—Mom, and Dad got married there.”

“I can sure see why.”

“I was only twelve, but I was maid of honor.”

“Sweet! I take it Nate was best man?”

“Yup. We’d just adopted a retired military dog, and he wore a bow tie and came, too.”

“Sounds like quite a day.”

“Oh, it was. But I’ve saved the best for last.” I reined in Red, standing stock still for drama.

“And that would be…?” Brodie awaited with the start of a smile.

“It was a double wedding with Gram-Elaine and Grampa-Doyle.”

His eyes squinted, and not from the cold, but as if he was trying to imagine such a spectacle. “Did your grams—

I read his mind. “No, ‘course not. She did not wear a fancy white gown and veil. But she was so beautiful in her own way. A very elaborate hat and a bouquet to throw. Grampa-Doyle shuttled them back to the reception at the ranch in his helicopter. Everybody else rode horses or sat in the wagons. It was great. Hearts Crossing has its own way of doing things.”

“I’ll say.” Then he said nothing at all. Had I said something to make him clam up?

I’d just go with the flow. Maybe I’d blown things after his sad stories about royal marriages, talking about two happy ones. In silence, we let the wind sing around us. A flash of red dashed from bare tree to another.

“Pretty bird.” He pointed.

I nodded. “Red-headed grosbeak.”

“You a bird watcher?”

“Just a factoid I needed to learn as a tour leader,” I laughed back, relaxed again. He had that way about him. The pretty little bird seemed the perfect addition to our hushed, snow-filled ride. “Many of our tourists are city-slickers who want to learn everything about nature, horses. Colorado.”

Then he drew up by my side. “Sorry. I got lost in my woes for a second there.”

Uh-oh. “Woes? That’s a word a girl doesn’t need to hear on a trail ride.”

“Oh no, Addie. I should have aided my sister. When you mentioned weddings, it hit home again.”

I huffed out hot breath that turned white in the cold air. I wanted to be a good listener, like I’d been taught in pre-school. To be a good friend, but I also wanted to just enjoy the ride.

And his company.

“If you wanna talk about it, Brodie. I know just the place.”