Mistletoe Twins

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“They’re like big dogs,” Franklyn squealed, backing away.

“They gots different colors.” Francie at least wasn’t afraid of the horses. “Why?”

“Different breeds.” Mac held Snowball’s bridle and encouraged the children to pet her.

“But those other horses don’t gots lots of colors. How come?” Francie’s focus was on the corral where the Double M’s full-size horses had gathered to watch them.

“I know why.” Adele thought that here among his pets Mac seemed totally content and at his most charming. “Lots of horse breeds allow only certain colors. But minis can have Appaloosa spots, pinto patches or tan buckskins with dark legs and manes and tails.”

“I’m impressed you remembered.” Mac grinned, then hunkered down to Francie’s level. “People who own miniature horses like all the colors. Some horse shows even have competitions for the most colorful miniatures.”

That grin—Adele drew in a calming breath. Why did she keep having these unusual reactions to Mac? He was just a friend, a good friend, but...

“Did your horses ever win?” a wide-eyed Franklyn wondered.

“Mac’s won tons of ribbons and trophies for his minis,” Adele told them proudly, then chastised herself. It wasn’t as if she’d helped him win them. All she’d done was be there to cheer him on.

“Would you like to ride one of my little horses, Francie?” Mac asked after the twins had petted each one.

“Can I?” The little girl’s eyes grew huge.

“I polished the saddles in case you’d want to.” Mac glanced at Adele, apparently noticing, like her, that Franklyn didn’t seem as enthusiastic about riding as his sister. “Would you mind waiting for your turn until after your sister has ridden?” he asked the boy.

Franklyn jerked his head in a quick nod of relief. Adele drew him with her to stand near the fence where they could listen in on Mac’s quick lesson to his sister.

“This is Esther. She likes to be ridden by children, though she hasn’t done it for a while.” Mac led the dappled mare toward a saddle flung over the top rail. With ease he grabbed it with his one hand and set it on Esther’s back, patiently explaining his actions to the curious twins as he quickly fastened the many buckles. “Okay, she’s ready. Are you?”

“I guess.” Francie’s face scrunched up. “How do I get on?”

“I’ll give you a boost and you swing your other leg over Esther’s back. Put your feet in these. They’re called stirrups. Ready?” At her nod he cupped his hand and encouraged her to put her foot in a stirrup and grab the saddle horn.

For Adele it was déjà vu. Mac had taught her to ride in exactly the same calm, assured way.

“Are you comfortable?” he asked.

“Uh-huh.” Francie gave Adele an excited grin, then prepared for the next direction.

“Good. These are the reins. Hold them in your hand, not too tightly, and very gently press your heels against her side. That tells Esther to start walking,” Mac said. “Ready? Go.”

Adele noted how Mac kept his hand on the horse behind the saddle, either to calm the animal or reassure the child, or both. As Esther moved, he walked along beside her, constantly encouraging Francie. Though Adele knew he’d taught many kids to ride the larger Double M horses, as he’d taught her, she’d forgotten how gentle he was, correcting in a way that enhanced the experience for the rider. His entire focus was on Francie, anticipating her reactions and soothing her worries in an affectionate tone.

“Mac’s a good teacher, isn’t he?” The Double M’s foreman, Gabe Webber, stood behind Adele.

“Fabulous,” she murmured as Francie laughed. She didn’t know Gabe well, only that he was several years older than Mac and that he’d been born and raised on a ranch but had lost it all after his father died.

“I really hope your sister pushes him to try her trail ride idea. Mac needs a new venture to test his skills and help him forget his troubles.” Then Gabe tipped his hat and strode away.

What troubles? Adele didn’t get the impression the foreman was talking about Mac’s indecision about taking over the ranch, so what—

“Look at me, Delly!” Francie was riding by herself. Mac stood to one side, watching her intently but not interfering, though he did call out occasional directions.

Adele pulled out her phone and snapped several pictures, suddenly aware that she was including Mac in every frame. Well, why not? Francie should have memories of such a great teacher, she justified as she snapped several more. The one she liked best caught Mac midlaugh as the little girl whooped for joy.

“This one could ride the broncs, Delly,” he called to her, his grin wide.

Adele caught her breath. For a moment he looked exactly like the old Mac, carefree, enjoying the moment. Then his face grew more serious as he called a halt to the ride. Francie flung her arms around Mac’s neck as he helped her slide off, eyes shining with delight.

“Thank you. That was so fun!” She raced toward Adele and her brother. “You gotta try.”

“I think you’ll like it, Franklyn,” Mac said quietly when the boy hesitated.

After some cheering words from his sister and Mac’s repeated reassurances, which Adele knew were most effective because they had to do with the boy’s ability to brag that he’d been horseback riding, Franklyn tentatively walked forward. Though Adele couldn’t hear exactly what Mac said, as Franklyn climbed on the little horse he lost the trepidation she’d seen just moments before. Within seconds he was trotting around the paddock, calling encouragement to Esther and trying to one-up Francie.

Again Adele took a host of pictures, and again she included Mac in most of them. Then she took a final one, a close-up preserving Franklyn’s disappointed expression at the end of the session and Mac’s soft wistful smile. Mac and kids. He’d always adored them.

“When can I go again?” Francie’s eagerness was unmistakable.

“Another day for sure,” Mac said. “Want to say thank-you for the ride?”

“Horses don’t know people talk,” Francie asserted. Then, uncertainly, “Do they?”

“Yes.” When both kids frowned at Mac, he showed them the apples he’d left in a sack outside the pen and told the children to each get one. “They understand the tone of your voice, especially when you say thank-you.”

“Thank you for the ride, Esther.” Francie giggled as the horse snatched the apple, gobbled it down and then bumped her head against the little girl. Esther did the same with Franklyn.

“That’s how Esther says you’re welcome,” Mac told them with a chuckle.

Something inside Adele jumped for joy at the tender expression on his face as he brushed the horse’s shaggy mane with his hand. It had been the right choice to come here with the kids. This was the real Mac, not that pretend person who wanted her to believe he was fine.