“My grandparents sat and rocked on the porch after supper,” Michelle recalled. “He smoked a pipe and she sewed quilt tops and they talked.” She shook her head. “It’s a different world.”

“It is.” She hesitated. “Has Gabriel come home?”

Michelle shook her head. “It’s almost Christmas, too. We don’t know where he is, or what he’s doing.”

Minette, who did, carefully concealed her knowledge. “Well, he might surprise you and show up on Christmas day. Who knows?”

Michelle forced a smile. “Yes.”

She and Sara decorated the tree. Two of the men who worked for Gabriel part-time, taking care of the horses and the ranch, had come in earlier with a big bucket, holding a tree with the root ball still attached.

“I can’t bear to kill a tree,” Sara confided as the men struggled to put it in place in the living room. “Sorry, guys,” she added.

“Oh, Miss Sara, it’s no trouble at all,” the taller of the two cowboys said at once, holding his hat to his heart. He grinned. “It was our pleasure.”

“Absolutely,” the shorter one agreed.

They stood smiling at Sara until one thumped the other and reminded him that they had chores to do. They excused themselves, still smiling.

“You just tie them up in knots.” Michelle laughed, when they were out of the room. “You’re so pretty.”

Sara made a face. “Nonsense.”

“Hide your head in the sand, then. What are we going to decorate it with?” she added.

“Come with me.”

Sara pulled down the ladder and the two women climbed carefully up into the attic.

Michelle caught her breath when she saw the heart of pine rafters. “My goodness, it’s almost a religious experience to just look at them!” she exclaimed. “Those rafters must be a hundred years old!”

Sara glanced at her with amusement. “I believe they are. Imagine you, enthralled by rafters!”

“Heart of pine rafters,” she replied. “My grandfather built houses when he was younger. He took me with him a time or two when he had to patch a roof or fix a leak. He was passionate about rafters.” She laughed. “And especially those made of heart of pine. They’re rare, these days, when people mostly build with green lumber that hasn’t been properly seasoned.”

“This house has a history,” Sara said. “You probably already know it, since your people came from Jacobs County.”

Michelle nodded, watching Sara pick up two boxes of ornaments and stack them together. “It belonged to a Texas Ranger.”

“Yes. He was killed in a shoot-out in San Antonio. He left behind two sons, a daughter and a wife. There’s a plaque in city hall in Jacobsville that tells all about him.”

“I’ll have to go look,” Michelle said. “I haven’t done any stories that took me there, yet.”

“I’m sure you will. Minette says you’re turning into a very good reporter.”