Shannon laughed at the identical inflections in their voices. Clearly, they doubted Cody’s ability. “I told him to pretend they were sails in need of mending.”
Brandon was impressed by both Cody’s industry and Shannon’s cleverness. He nudged Clara. “Shall we give Mishannon her present from us?”
“Oh, yes!” She crawled over her father to find the box she had helped Brandon wrap. “It’s tiny,” she said apologetically as she handed it to Shannon.
“Then it’s not a horse?” asked Shannon, pretending disappointment.
Clara giggled. “Course not. She’s in the stable. Papa and I put the prettiest ribbon on her bridle and—”
Shannon blinked. “There really is a horse?”
Brandon nodded, clamping his hand over Clara’s mouth. “It was supposed to be a surprise. I suppose the surprise is that we kept it a secret this long. You can close your mouth now, darling. We’ll take you out to see her after dinner.”
Clara found her own mouth freed and she grinned happily. “She doesn’t even have a name, Mishannon. Papa says you must give her a name since she’ll be your very own.”
“She’s gentle,” Brandon put in quickly. “I bought her upriver from Robert McClellan. He swears she won’t bolt or shy.”
Shannon was overwhelmed by Brandon’s generosity. “I’m certain she’s wonderful. Thank you.”
“Are you crying, Mishannon?” Clara asked.
She laughed unsteadily. “No. Not yet at least.”
“Open your other present,” Brandon prompted.
Shannon tugged at the satin ribbon and unfolded the brocade wrapping. “My locket!” She regarded Brandon quizzically. “But I gave this to Clara.”
“Clara has hers. This is a copy. Go on. Open it. I think the difference will be obvious.”
Shannon slipped her nail in the groove of the locket facings and pressed the piece open. Instead of the miniature of her mother, there were two portraits in the tiny ovals. “Oh, Clara. Brandon.” The faces of those she held most dear misted before her eyes. Pressing the locket to her breast, she raised her eyes and looked at the paintings’ subjects. “This is beautiful,” she said softly. “I never expected…never imagined…I…” Her voice drifted off. “Thank you,” she finished simply. Shannon slid off the ottoman and knelt beside Clara, kissing the child’s downy cheek. “I shall love it always, Clara, just the way I shall love you.”
“And Papa?” asked Clara.
“And Papa,” Shannon assured her. She scooted over to Brandon and leaned forward, kissing him full on the mouth.
Brandon tasted the promise in her kiss, but before he could collect on it, Clara was tugging on his coat sleeve. He brushed Shannon’s lips once before she withdrew. “Later,” he said, and his eyes now held a promise.
Shannon ignored him, though she knew her expression gave away the tenor of her thoughts. Dwelling on those thoughts now was impossible as Clara opened a succession of gifts with unabashed delight. There was a picture book, which Shannon had written and illustrated for her, a kite-flying adventure, which had to be read immediately. Brandon’s gift to his daughter was a new saddle for Rainbow. There were candy treats from Oplas, a bib apron from Martha, and a rag doll from Addie. Like a pirate queen, Clara sat in the midst of what Brandon described as her booty and demanded that her father open his gift from Shannon.
Brandon accepted the flat package, turning it this way and that, prolonging the moment until he opened it. “Do you know what this is, Clara?” he asked, running his fingers along the edge of the gift. At Clara’s negative reply, he slipped off the string. “It has a frame of some sort.” He glanced up at Shannon. “A drawing?”
“Open it and see.” She bit her lip, waiting for Brandon’s response as he laid back the oilcloth cover and revealed the ink line sketch of father and daughter.
Brandon had no words to describe what he felt in that moment. Shannon’s simple drawing had accurately captured the wealth of love he had for his daughter. In the sketch Brandon’s cheek was resting against Clara’s hair, his smile faintly teasing, his eyes indulgent. Clara’s mouth was puckered around her thumb, her expression sleepy and profoundly content.
“Jemmy made the frame for me,” Shannon said when Brandon continued to stare at his gift in silence.
“It’s a fine frame.” Brandon was surprised he could move the words past the tightness in his throat. He made no effort to hide his tears as he lifted his eyes to Shannon. “You’ve made her look like me,” he said. Far from being offended, Brandon was deeply touched.
Shannon shook her head quickly. “No. Not intentionally. The resemblance is there,” she insisted. “It always has been. I never noticed until I did the drawing. Like you, I’ve always been struck by the difference in your coloring, but in ink, well, you can see for yourself. Look at her chin, her cheekbones.” And as Clara leaned over her father’s shoulder to look at the portrait, Shannon pointed to her. “That’s your smile, Brandon.”
Brandon turned his head and looked at his daughter’s cheeky grin. “So it is.” He held up the picture so Clara could have a better view, blinking back the evidence of his emotion. “You’ve given me something very special.” His voice dropped huskily. “Very special.” He laid the picture on the ottoman and drew Shannon into his arms, laughing as Clara wiggled her way between them. Over the top of his daughter’s bright curls he managed to give Shannon a thoroughly satisfying kiss. “There’s one more gift, Shannon, something for you from Cody.”
Clara wriggled again, this time reaching for the last present and giving it to Shannon.
Shannon frowned as she saw Brandon exchange a smug smile with Clara. “Is this really from Cody?” she asked. Brandon and Clara nodded in unison. “Well, then. Does it bite?”
“No.” Clara giggled. “It’s—” Her mouth was quickly covered by Brandon’s hand.
