An Aspen Creek Christmas. Roxanne Rustand

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of her for years afterward, regretting what he’d done. “You were the one who stole my heart and never gave it back.”

      She raised an incredulous eyebrow and snorted. “That’s not how I remember things, but it’s all in the past and I’m pretty sure we both dodged the proverbial bullet. All for the best.”

      Hannah descended the deck stairs. “Hey, kids, can you help round up these guys? C’mon, puppies—dinnertime!”

      Some of the little critters followed, others went the opposite way. One black-and-white pup industriously tugged at Cole’s shoelace, trying to wrestle it free. But in a few minutes they all disappeared into the garage with Cole and Hannah, where metal food dishes rattled and Cole’s laughter rose above the din.

      After Hannah retrieved the mixed-breed mom from a separate outside enclosure and took her to her brood, she stepped outside and started for a weathered-wood shed at the far end of the yard.

      It looked like a classic, hip-roofed barn the size of a double garage, with a walk door on the side and two big, sliding barn doors at one end. A wood-fenced corral enclosed a small pasture behind it and to one side there was some sort of pen surrounded with a high chain-link fence.

      “I don’t suppose anyone wants to see what I’ve got in here?” she called over her shoulder.

      Cole followed at her heels as Hannah disappeared into the shed, while Molly just hunched over her folded arms on the picnic table and made no move to follow.

      Ethan strolled over to her and sat at the opposite end of the table. “So...what do you think about all of this?” he ventured after a few minutes of silence.

      She lifted her gaze to the surrounding forest and scowled. “It’s not Texas. And it’s cold.”

      “True.”

      A thin whinny echoed from inside the barn. One of the sliding doors opened and Hannah emerged leading a woolly Shetland pony with Cole on top. She led the little buckskin in a slow circle then toward the picnic table.

      Cole beamed. “This is Penelope. She’s really old.”

      “She’s a rescue, as well. It’s probably time to hop off, but she should gain some weight in a few months and feel stronger, and after that maybe you can ride her a bit longer.” Hannah reached up and helped Cole dismount before pulling a small brush from her jacket pocket. “In the meantime, you can lead her if you want and bring her carrots. She also needs to be brushed every day. Anyone here interested in doing that?”

      Cole nodded, accepting the brush. He began brushing Penelope’s neck. “She’s pretty.”

      “I heard you talking to Cole in the house,” Molly said to Ethan after watching her brother for a while. “And I don’t get it, either.”

      “What’s that?”

      “How you could be our uncle—our only uncle, but we never met you. Not ever.” Her mouth flattened. “Maybe we shouldn’t believe you.”

      He considered that. “But it’s true. Your dad and I were brothers. He was three years older than me. Let’s see... He had a great sense of humor, he could charm his way out of trouble and he was great at every sport he tried. He had a long scar on his left inner arm from when we were playing in your great-grandfather’s workshop. Did he ever tell you how it happened?”

      Her lower lip trembled. “He said his brother snapped a piece of wire at him.”

      Typical Rob. “No. He stretched out a coiled length of wire, planning to snap it at me. But he lost his grip on one end and it zinged back. He actually had to have eight stitches.”

      Her brows drew together. “He had a collie. What was its name?”

      “Radar.” Ethan smiled. “I’m glad to see you’re such a smart girl. It’s good to be cautious with someone you don’t know.”

      She turned to give him a long look. “You don’t look like my dad. And—” The moment her gaze dropped to his right hand, her eyes filled with horror and she recoiled. “What is that?”

      Cole stopped brushing the pony and craned his neck for a better view. His mouth dropped open. “Wow.”

      Ethan had just gotten out of Ward 57—Amputee Alley—at Walter Reed a week ago, a place where the loss of his hand and damaged leg were minor compared to so many who had lost a great deal more. Compared to the three men in his platoon who had paid the ultimate price the day of the explosion.

      But seeing the kids gawk at his missing hand reminded him that he would always be different in this civilian world. And to them, he might even seem scary.

      “I was in Iraq. An insurgent lobbed a grenade into the back of our transport vehicle. I lost my hand.” He flexed the fingers, demonstrating the dexterity of his prosthesis. “This gives me back some of that function.”

      Cole’s eyes rounded. “So now you’re like a bionic robot guy—with superpowers?”

      “Somebody has seen way too many movies,” he said with what he hoped was an easy smile. “But it would be tough having just one hand and my prosthesis does help a lot.”

      “It...it looks like real skin on it,” Molly whispered.

      Ethan nodded. “Supposed to. But that’s just a skin-colored cosmetic cover, so it doesn’t draw attention. I don’t always wear it.”

      Molly surveyed him from head to toe, her eyes filled with blatant curiosity.

      “No other mechanical parts,” he said, guessing at her unspoken question. “Though several bones in my right leg were shattered. I still wear a brace.”

      “Forever?”

      He shrugged. “I hope not.”

      “I’m so sorry about all you’ve been through, Ethan,” Hannah murmured. “When did it happen?”

      He glanced at Molly and Cole, once again unsure of what to say in front of them. “Last spring. A couple weeks...before.”

      Hannah winced and closed her eyes briefly. “And that’s why you couldn’t come back for the funeral. I’m sorry about what I said to you earlier. I had no idea that you were injured. Cynthia should have said something to me at the funeral...or later.”

      “She didn’t know yet. She and I were rarely in touch over the years.”

      Cole turned back to brushing the pony.

      Molly seemed to have lost interest in the conversation, as well. She wandered along the fenced perimeter of the backyard and peered into a chain link at one end of the barn, jumping back when an explosion of black-and-white feathers flew into the air.

      “That’s Mabel,” Hannah called out. “She’s gets herself in a kerfuffle at the least thing, but Ruth and Louise are a little less silly. They’re probably taking a nice sensible nap inside the barn, where it’s warm.”

      Molly looked over her shoulder. “You rescue chickens?”

      “A lady near

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