Day 7

"Has your mother said anything to you about what she wants for Christmas?" Troy asked while getting in the driver's seat of his truck.

"Not really." His teenaged daughter, Antheia, got in the passenger seat. "She asked what you want for Christmas, though."

"Oh? Did you tell her I want that beautiful Browning Hi-Power with the black grips I keep seeing at the gun shop?"

"She said she already knows about that. She was asking about something you haven't mentioned to her."

"Honestly, I can't think of anything. Aside from that handgun."

Antheia looked out the window. "So, we're just going to wander around Douglas until you find something to get Mom for Christmas?"

"Yeah, pretty much. We've got a couple of weeks until Christmas, but I've come up empty-handed each time I go out looking for stuff. I'm hoping you can help me, sweetie."

Antheia shrugged. "I did tell you, Mom's said nothing about what she wants. Maybe she wants it to be surprise."

"A surprise, huh? I can do surprises."

"Dietrich said that's what you're best at. Surprises."

"No doubt about that."

Antheia was quiet for a few moments as they headed into the small town of Douglas, in eastern Wyoming. "Dad? If it's okay with you, could we stop at the tack store? There're some things I want to get for Jules."

Troy gave a broad grin. "We sure can. Does he want anything specific?"

"He hasn't said anything, but I saw a saddlebag that would go really well with his gear."

"Doesn't sound like a bad idea. Maybe it'll prompt him to bring some snacks or something like that when he goes on long trail rides on mornings where he decides breakfast is optional."

"You'll have to be specific and say it's snacks for him, not Nightrunner. You know he'd mess that up."

"Oh, I know. He's definitely Moffitt's son alright. Right down to the 'skipping breakfast to spend time with horses' trait." Troy snapped his fingers. "Hey, let's get him two bags, so he can bring stuff for himself and Nightrunner."

"You know he'll put stuff for Nightrunner in both bags."

Troy sighed. "It's worth a shot."

"I agree. Maybe he'll listen if I tell him."

"I hope so. It's not a good habit for him to be in." Troy also couldn't deny that going to the tack store would be a great opportunity to look for something for Shauna. He let Antheia find what she was looking for when they arrived, and began wandering around aimlessly, trying to find something—anything—that Shauna might like.

He was browsing halters when Antheia approaching him, holding a rather large saddlebag. "Found it," she said.

"Holy crap, sweetie, you could carry a big box of Cheerios in here," Troy said, looking over the bag.

"Is that a bad thing?"

"Honestly? No."

Antheia grinned. "Maybe we should send a box of Cheerios with it."

Troy seriously thought about that. "You know what? Let's do that. We'll buy a thing of Cheerios, stick it in the bag, and wrap it like that before shipping it to Britain."

"I feel like Jules will just be really confused."

"Add a note saying it was my idea, and that he needs to eat breakfast before riding in the morning."

"Makes sense. Thanks, Dad."

"You're welcome." Troy squeezed Antheia's shoulder. "Now, the real challenge… finding a gift for your mother."

Antheia adjusted her grip on the saddlebag, looking up at the wall of halters and bridles in front of her and Troy. "Maybe it'll just come to you. Don't think about it too hard."

Troy glanced at her. "I don't exactly have a lot of time before Christmas to just let things come to me."

Antheia snorted. "I thought that's what you were best at: spontaneous ideas that just come to you with no rhyme or reason. Still. Wouldn't you rather have something meaningful?" Antheia held up the saddlebag. "Jules didn't ask for this, nor is he in desperate need of it, but when I saw it, it made me think of him. That was when I knew it'd be the perfect present."

"You do have a point, sweetie," Troy said with a sigh. "I mean, I shouldn't get any old thing that reminds me of your mother. A dirty pair of overalls reminds me of her, but I'm not getting that for her." Troy suddenly saw himself a little over twenty years ago, seeing a short, but well-built woman with long coal-black hair tied in a messy ponytail approaching the gates of his ranch. She was wearing a pair of very well-worn overalls. Little did I know, she was going to become my wife, Troy thought.

"Dad? You okay?"

Antheia's voice pulled him from his thoughts. Troy blinked. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm alright. I… I think I have an idea."

"What is it?"

"I'm getting your mother a pair of overalls."

"Didn't you just say—"

"I said I wouldn't get a pair of dirty overalls for her. Big difference."

Antheia still looked a little confused. "What's the big deal with overalls anyway?"

"Your mother was wearing them when she first came to my ranch to get a job, a few years before we fell in love and got married. I can't look at overalls without thinking of her." Troy smiled, but he tried not to sink too deep in his memories. "What's the one thing that reminds you of Jules whenever you see it?"

Antheia blushed a little. "There're a lot of things that remind me of Jules."

"Name one thing. Just one thing."

"Okay, okay." Antheia nervously laughed. "Black horses. All-black horses remind me of Jules. The smell of English breakfast tea. That reminds me of Jules, too. Bakewell tarts. Raspberry jam."

"That's four things, but, do you get the idea?"

Antheia nodded.

"To anyone else, something like a black horse or raspberry jam is a completely ordinary thing. There's nothing special about it. To you, those things mean the world, because they remind you of someone you really, really like."

"And overalls are like that for you and Mom."

"Yeah, so that's what I'm getting her for Christmas."

Antheia gave Troy a sly grin. "Think I should convince Mom to do the same for you? Make her think of all the things that remind her of you?"

"You know what? Go for it. I'd like to be surprised this year."