The Cowboy Who Saved Christmas - Jodi Thomas Page 0,79

reminded him of his life.

Leaning back, he drank his coffee as he thought about the many times his mother sat in that chair sewing when he was a young boy. She was an excellent seamstress and often made dresses for other women. Glancing back down at the doll in his hand, he thought someone had probably asked her to make a new dress for the sad little figure. After he finished his coffee, he stood and returned the doll to the chair. He roamed around the house until he finally made his way back to his mother’s bedroom, where he sat on the side of the bed and picked up her Bible from the bedside table. He smiled at the memory of her quoting a scripture or two when she thought he needed to hear something in particular. A strip of old leather was sticking out between the pages, marking what he assumed was a passage his mother had been reading. He recognized the old, worn bookmark he’d made for her when he was five years old. On one side, he’d written the verse, Honor thy mother and father. I love you Ma. A folded piece of paper tucked between the pages drifted to his lap. He picked it up and recognized the note was written in his mother’s hand.

Son, if you are reading this I know you have found your way home. Please do one last favor for me and find Amelia Wakeland. I want you to help her if she is in need. I have never met a sweeter soul, and I’m worried about her.

Your loving mother

Clint read the note several times before tucking it into his shirt pocket. He placed the bookmark back in the Bible and returned it to the table. Walking from the room, he thought he’d done little over the last few years to show his mother how much she meant to him. What a fool he’d been. He’d do this one last thing she’d asked of him.

Feeling as if the walls were closing in on him, Clint walked outside to look over the ranch. He thought about his future without his family. Even though he’d been far away, he always knew he had a place to call home. But could the ranch be a home without his family? He didn’t think so. He walked until he was exhausted, mentally and physically. That night, after he checked on his horses once last time, he returned to the house and tossed his bedroll on the floor in front of the fireplace. But sleep didn’t come.

* * *

The next morning before dawn, Clint was on his way to the Wakeland ranch. As he approached the house, he looked over the land. Like his ranch, it appeared desolate, no cows or horses grazing in the pasture. It felt like every person and animal had disappeared from the face of the earth. He was just about to rein in at the house when a man walked from the stable.

“Can I help you with something?”

“Hope so.” Clint took the man’s measure. He looked to be younger, but he was almost as tall as he was, just not as muscled. He looked none too pleased by the interruption. Clint pushed back his hat on his head and rested his hands on the saddle horn. “I’m Clint Mitchum. I’m looking for Amelia Wakeland.”

If the man recognized Clint’s name, he gave no indication. “She left with Tom Nelson two weeks back. Headed to the Llano River.”

“That river covers some territory,” Clint replied.

“That’s all I know,” the man responded curtly.

Clint could tell he didn’t want to offer more information. “Thanks.” He turned Reb back in the direction of his ranch. His mother had asked one last thing of him. He’d failed her when she was alive; he wouldn’t fail her in death. He’d find Amelia Wakeland no matter how long it took.

* * *

Returning to his ranch, Clint walked to his mother’s bedroom, picked up her Bible and headed for the door. He stopped in the front room, his eyes drawn to that raggedy little doll in the rocking chair. Something seemed to be telling him to take the doll with him. It was just a brief thought that made no logical sense, but he walked to the rocker and grabbed the doll. After he stuffed both items in his saddlebag, he loaded his packs on Champ and rode out. He didn’t know if he was leaving the ranch for the last time.