Author's note: Just a dream ...

xxx

"Annie, slow down!"

Ben looked up from his book when he heard Adam's soft voice. For a second he watched his son and granddaughter as they rode into the yard, then he got up to greet them.

Passing Sport, he gave the spirited animal a light pat on the rump, then held up his arms to help Annie down from her pony. A quick look into Adam's direction told him that his son was quite pleased with the progress of his daughter. Fondly Ben stroked her cheek.

"Well, did you beat Sport?"

Annie cast a quick, suspicious look in Adam's direction before she answered.

"No. Pa doesn't let me race."

Ben would have liked to laugh out loud when he saw Annie's pouting face, but years of practice with his sons had taught him to control his expressions.

"And he is absolutely right, little miss. You're still not safe enough in the saddle." Ben lifted his gaze and grinned when he heard Adam snort. "And apart from that, Sport has much longer legs than Hopper – he'd beat every horse." He clapped Adam on the back and winked conspiratorially at Annie.

"Except Cochise, of course." He laughed when his eldest son raised his dark brows in mock protest, his hands on his hips. Annie giggled. Adam grinned in response, then lightly slapped her behind.

"Go and take care of Hopper, Missy. Mind you bed him down properly like I showed you. I'll be right along." Lovingly he gazed at the bobbing ponytail of his daughter when she led the animal towards the barn.

"She's a little whirlwind."

"You can say that again, Pa." Adam laughed and patted Sport's neck. "I never know what she has in store next."

"Don't worry," Ben squinted his eyes and appraised Adam from head to toe. "You survived Joe's and Jamie's pranks. It can't get much worse than that."

Adam stood still and stared at his father, his amber eyes glittering. Finally he took a deep breath, but Ben could tell he was amused. "You have no idea, Pa."

"No?" Critically Ben looked at his son. Adam grinned and rubbed his neck, almost self-consciously. But before he could reply, Jamie darted from the house, his cheeks reddened, his eyes sparkling.

"Grandpa! GRANDPA!"

"WHAT?" Ben bolted upright in bed, his heart beating in his throat. For a second he was confused, but when his eyes took in the familiar surroundings of his room, the furniture, his treasured possessions, he leant back into the pillow, the dampness of his sweat-soaked shirt clinging to his skin, making him shiver.

"Dear God!" His hands searched for the sheet underneath him and clasped it tight. All of a sudden, his chest seemed too narrow to hold his wildly-beating heart, but all he could concentrate on were the images of his dream he could see before him, so vivid, so real. Shaking, he drew a deep breath and tried to calm down.

He didn't know how long he lay like that, trying to achieve some semblance of order to his thoughts. Shreds of his dream were floating in his memory, denying him his sleep. Finally he rubbed a hand over his eyes and got up, knowing he would spend the rest of the night in front of the fireplace. It had been a long time since he had dreamed of Adam, but experience had taught him that he wouldn't be able to go back to sleep. Slowly he lumbered down the hallway towards the staircase, but then he suddenly paused.

Carefully he opened a door and peeked inside. A sad smile played on his lips when he saw 5-year-old Jamie in his nest of rumpled bedding and the tangle of jet-black curls on the pillow.

"Sleep well, lad," he whispered softly. "I wish your father were here."

The end