Page 18 of Soldier's Chrismas Hope
RIVER
River walked back across the fields to the farmhouse just after dawn the next morning. The snow crunched under his boots, and the cold breeze was fresh and sweet.
As the owner of the place, it was hard not to notice everything that needed doing. Faded, peeling paint on the old barn, a loose shutter hanging from an attic window on the house, and years of deferred maintenance on the cottage where he was staying were just the beginning. But he loved it all anyway.
And he would get the work done, either by learning how himself or with help from others.
He’d been volunteering at the veterans center in town since he got home a week or so ago. He enjoyed the chance to socialize, and he also knew he’d be asking for plenty of advice and maybe even some donated labor here and there as he learned how to take care of the farm. He figured it might feel better to accept help if he’d paid it forward first.
Though his volunteering so far paled in comparison to what some of the other vets were doing. He thought specifically of Dalton Tyler. The man was a literal saint.
All the guys from Trinity Falls had been brokenhearted when their old friend, Andy Bennett died in the line of duty. But Dalton had been closer than anyone with Andy, and he had even promised to come back to Trinity Falls and help out on Andy’s family farm if anything ever happened to his friend. It was the kind of thing that was easy to say in the moment, and no one had really expected Dalton to follow through. But sure enough, as soon as his tour was up, Dalton had appeared at the Bennett farm, sleeves rolled up and ready to work, and as far as River knew, he hadn’t looked back since.
It was good they were all on an Army schedule. Farming was for early birds, but River knew that every one of the guys coming home from service was prepared to wake up before sunlight and tackle physical labor.
Normally even he wasn’t up quite as early as he had been today, but once his eyes had opened and his mind had started thinking about the day ahead, he knew he wasn’t getting any more rest and just got up to get things started. The horses had been glad to see him, even if they’d been a little sleepy while he got them taken care of. He found that he enjoyed the morning routine of mucking out the stalls, brushing the horses down, feeding them, and bringing them out to the pasture to enjoy their day.
He’d put a blanket on Tinkerbell. She was really a pony, and not a horse, though she had a very big personality. River had promised the kids a ride on horseback,and he figured they might feel more comfortable with the idea of riding the smaller of the two. But he was probably going to saddle up Peter for them instead. Peter was a bigger animal, but much more laid back, and he loved children. Tinkerbell was a mischief maker. He had already caught her trying to open the pasture gate more than once. Thankfully, she was too short to reach the latch.
“Now I know why you named them like that, Aggie,” he murmured to the prior resident of the house.
Aggie had passed away peacefully among her children down in North Carolina not too long after selling her farm to a local billionaire by the name of Radcliffe, who had been buying up land to save it from developers. She had left behind most of her furniture and kitchenware, all the farm equipment, and even the two horses.
Radcliffe had replaced the farmhouse roof and wiring, and sold the place to River, sight-unseen, for a very fair price. And his crew had run everything until River got home to take possession, including caring for the horses. The man had grown into something of a local legend for all the work he’d put into their little town, and River was hoping to meet him in person and shake his hand one of these days.
The highway that had been talked about since River’s school days was finally coming through soon, connecting the rural area more easily to Philadelphia and Baltimore. Radcliffe had recently given the land closest to the highway site over to his former assistant, Valentina. And she had built an outdoor market and set aside land for all kinds of community-minded offerings, including apermanent location for the veterans center to be built on next spring.
River reached the back door to the farmhouse just as the pink of dawn was fading into gold.
It was quiet and still inside, and he was glad he had gotten the horses taken care of early enough to get breakfast started before everyone woke up.
He kicked off his boots, shrugged out of his coat, and washed up.
The radiator pipes gurgled, and the birds sang outside as he started up a pot of coffee.
On impulse, he turned on the radio on the countertop, just loud enough for him to enjoy without disturbing anyone. “Carol of the Bells” played softly while he surveyed the contents of the refrigerator and cupboards.
He had just decided on making biscuits and eggs for his guests when he heard little footsteps approach.
“Good morning,” he said softly, turning to see Pixie in the kitchen doorway. She was wearing a long flannel nightgown and her hair was very tangly, but she was still about the cutest little girl he’d ever seen.
He knew Nora’s sister Alma was a single mom, so the kids had grown up without a dad around. Part of the reason he was staying in the cottage during their visit was that he wasn’t sure if they would be comfortable with a man in the house, especially one that they didn’t know well. They might not be used to big bodies and deep voices.
It’s not the only reason,a little voice whispered in the back of his mind.
But the moment they locked eyes, Pixie broke into a big grin. She didn’t seem to be a bit scared of him.
“Are you making breakfast for the horses?” she asked excitedly, eyeing the canister of flour in his hand.
“The horses already had their breakfast,” he told her. “I wanted them to be ready to take you for a ride. Right now, I thought I would make breakfast for us people.”
“I’ll help you,” Pixie decided, then looked a little worried.
“That would be great,” he told her enthusiastically. “It’s always more fun to have company in the kitchen. Do you want to get dressed first?”
“Nah,” she said. “I already brushed my teeth.”
Well, that answer was on him, since he had posed it as a question. And besides, her nightgown looked plenty warm, even for a wintry morning.
