nice,” Amelia agreed.
“Mr. Mitchum wants nightingales for his horses.”
“Nightingales?” Amelia glanced at Clint, and he grinned at her.
Katie corrected her sister. “They are martingales, and Mr. Mitchum is going to show us what they are after dinner.”
Amelia patiently listened as Annie and Katie recounted their entire conversation with Clint. Instead of sounding disappointed there would be no presents this year, they seemed content to believe in the magic of Christmas. As the girls prattled on about Clint, Amelia found herself glancing his way. All the boys were now surrounding him, asking him question after question and hanging on his every word. Like the girls, the boys were just as smitten with the tall cowboy. And who could blame them? Clint was the type of man she’d dreamed of meeting one day. Of course, that was before she’d married, before her fanciful dreams had faded away. While she didn’t regret the choices she’d made, she still wished she’d known the love of a man. A man like Clint. Everyone told her that few men would want to marry a woman with a ready-made family. She loved the girls with all her heart, and if she had to spend the remainder of her life without a husband, she would still have her girls.
The magic of Christmas. How nice that sounded. She was thankful that Clint had given the children hope. If she believed in those things now, she’d dream of a man like Clint falling in love with her. A man who could put a smile on the faces of children; a man who encouraged children to dream regardless of the discouraging facts of their situations; a man who made the children feel safe. Clint managed to do this in a short period of time even though he was dealing with his own worries about his mother. Men like Clint were few and far between in her opinion.
Katie and Annie didn’t really know their father. Amelia doubted if he’d ever spent more than five minutes alone with the girls in their lives. It wasn’t his fault; he’d been away at war, and when he came home, he was ill until the day he died. The girls hadn’t known a man like Clint, a man who would take the time to really talk with them. Amelia smiled to herself, thinking about Clint walking back from the lake tonight with Annie sitting on his shoulders, laughing as though she was having the best time of her short life.
* * *
Annie and Katie were helping Amelia clean the pans after dinner when Clint approached them, his saddlebag slung over one shoulder. “Miss Annie, I have something in my saddlebag you need to see.”
Looking up at him, Annie’s eyes widened in surprise. “What is it?”
Clint opened the flap on the saddlebag and held it down for her to look inside.
“Lucy!” She reached into the saddlebag and pulled out her doll. “Where did you find her?”
“She was sitting in the rocking chair in front of the fireplace at my home.”
Annie clutched Lucy to her. “Thank you for bringing her to me, Mr. Mitchum!”
“How did you know the doll belonged to Annie?” Amelia asked.
“I didn’t, until Annie mentioned her earlier today. I had forgotten I put the doll in my saddlebag when I left the ranch.”
Amelia gave Clint a warm smile. “She’s really missed her doll.”
* * *
Later that night when it was time for the girls to go to bed, Amelia found them with Clint, watching him care for his horses.
When Amelia joined them, Annie pointed to a well-worn leather strap hanging across a log. “Ma, that’s a nightingale.”
“Martingale,” Katie corrected.
Amelia smiled, replying, “I know.” She stayed with Clint and the girls a few more minutes before she told them it was their bedtime. “It’s time to say good night to Mr. Mitchum.”
“ ’Night, Mr. Mitchum.” Annie walked to him and yanked on his shirtsleeve. When Clint looked at her, she whispered, “Can I kiss you good night?”
A lump formed in Clint’s throat as he leaned over. “I’d be honored.”
Annie kissed one cheek and Katie kissed his other cheek.
“Good night, girls. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Clint finished with his horses and walked to the fire. He saw Amelia and the girls placing their blankets near Bo and Boone, who were already asleep. Whitt was sitting by the fire, drinking coffee.
“The boys must have worn themselves out,” Clint commented to Whitt as he poured himself some coffee.
Whitt laughed. “I’m surprised they haven’t worn out your ears.”
Clint sat