They all took off, laughing and yelling. The cowboys at the wagon raised their rifles and fired in salute. The Chapman princesses were home.

By the time they reached the steps, everyone on the ranch was watching.

Trapper had no problem recognizing the colonel. White beard, white hair, and standing strong and tall. For a moment he frowned, as if he didn’t know who was invading his ranch.

Number One lowered the four-year-old to the ground and she ran toward her father. She was halfway up the steps before anyone recognized the youngest daughter.

The colonel hugged her so hard, Trapper thought he might crush her. Within a minute all his daughters were around him, talking and hugging and laughing. He took each girl’s face in his big hands and stared at them, then smiled. No matter how bad they looked or how they were dressed, his girls were back.

Trapper stood watching. He’d done it. He’d gotten them home by Christmas.

As the chaos began to settle, Trapper wasn’t surprised to see the colonel’s eyes focused on him.

“Mr. Trapper. I’d like to have a word with you. Now!”

Trapper remembered what the teamster had said about the colonel threatening to kill him if the girls arrived with one scratch. The girls were all sunburned and bruised, with scrapes and blisters.

He tried to stand up straight as he moved forward, but Number Three cut him off when she ran in front of him, almost tripping him.

“Now, Papa,” she began, with her fists on her hips.

The colonel pointed his finger. “What happened to your hair, Elizabeth?”

“Never mind that. Right now Trapper needs a doctor and some rest. He is hurt and hasn’t slept in days because, even injured, he’s always watching over us.” She crossed her arms. “And I go by Eliza or Three. You’ll not lecture Trapper. I will not stand for it.”

Anger reddened the colonel’s face. “You telling me what to do, daughter?”

All five girls stood before him with their arms crossed and their boots set wide apart as if ready for a fight.

Anger looked like it might explode out of the colonel. Obviously, no one ever told him what to do. No man. No woman, and certainly no daughters.

The girls didn’t back down.

To everyone’s surprise, the littlest one stepped closer to her papa. “We’re not taking a bath until you take care of our Tapper. He’s still dripping.”

“Who is Tapper?” The colonel lowered to her level and his tone softened slightly.

All the girls started explaining that Five never got the name right. And Trapper had told her she could call him by any name she liked.

“Who is Five?” The colonel tried to yell above them.

Then they all began with how they met on the dock.