Free A Cowboy’s Honor by Lois Richer Page A

spattered both adults.
    Misty did well until the halfway point, when she grew tired.
    “You can’t flop around like a walrus, kiddo. You’re not wearing tusks,” Dallas teased. He let her cling to his arm for a minute’s rest, then encouraged her to set off again, resuming the swimming stroke she’d been taught.
    He was a natural at fatherhood, Gracie decided as she paddled alongside, watching for signs of fatigue in the tiny body. No matter how many questions Misty asked him, he never seemed to run out of patience or encouragement.
    “Way to go, Misty.” Dallas hugged her close, then kicked back toward the steps, where he sat and let her rest on his knee. “You did it!”
    “It was hard.” She gasped for breath, her little chest rising and falling.
    “Lots of things are hard. That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try to do them.”
    “Why?”
    Gracie’s heart ached. Misty had overcome so many hard things already.
    “If we don’t try hard, we’ll never know if we can or not. And then we’ll be afraid.”
    “You are not to swim across the pool again unless I’m here and I say so, Misty. Understand?” Gracie caught the look Dallas shot her way, and floated toward the steps.
    “Yes, Mommy,” Misty said meekly. She clung to Dallas’s neck, yawned. “Rory isn’t going to believe I did it.”
    “Does that matter?” Dallas carried her out of the water, then held out a helping hand toward Gracie.
    She accepted it, let him draw her up and out, ignoring her heart’s little flutter.
    “It matters.” Misty was firm on that.
    “Why?” Once Dallas had removed her personal flotation device and wrapped Misty in one of the big bath towels Gracie had supplied, he set her on a chair and toweled himself dry.
    “Because Rory beats me at everything. Just once I want to beat him.” Misty’s voice grew softer. “I’m tired, Mommy.”
    “I know.” Gracie pulled on her cover-up, slid her feet into her sandals. “Time for bed.”
    “Can Dallas carry me?”
    “I—”
    “Please? I don’t want to walk.”
    “First we have to put your toys away,” Dallas murmured.
    “Mommy can do it,” Misty said carelessly.
    “No. Mommy’s tired, too. She was working all day.”
    Gracie began unbuttoning her cover-up, to go back in the water to collect the toys, but Dallas rested a hand on her arm. “She has to learn to consider others, Gracie.”
    “She’s tired. Besides, the deck is wet and slippery.”
    “She can walk on the grass.” He turned to Misty, grasped her hand. “Come on, Miss Misty, we’ll make a chain gang. I’ll send the toys to you and you carry them to Mommy. She’ll be over by the fence. Do you know how many steps it is from the grass?”
    “Fifteen.” Misty rose from the chair, her curiosity roused. “But how are you going to send the toys to me?”
    “Airmail. Hang on. I have to dive in to get that duck.” Dallas did a mock cannonball that sent a wave of water splashing over both Misty and Gracie.
    Face dripping, Misty doubled over in laughter. “Did you get it?”
    “Go on the grass. Ready? Here’s one duck flying to you, Misty.” He tossed it through the air. It landed right at her feet. “Okay, pass it on.”
    Her fingers closed over the rubber. She walked across the grass, held out the duck. “Here, Mommy.”
    “Thank you, honey.”
    But Misty was already back in place, waiting for the next item.
    Gracie held her breath as Dallas tossed each of the toys, but his aim was perfect. Not that the inflated things would have hurt Misty, it was just that Gracie was so used to making sure—
    “Why don’t you send more? I haven’t had the beach ball yet.”
    Gracie met Dallas’s stare, knew he’d seen her worry.
    “Your mommy isn’t ready. We have to wait for her to catch up.”
    “I’ll help her.” Misty moved across the grass easily, sidestepping Gracie. She felt for the toys and one by one dumped them into the bin. “I don’t think you can make the ball fly over here,