The Forest Ranger's Christmas. Leigh Bale

a nervous chuckle, thinking Frank’s hacksaw wouldn’t be of much use, except for removing slender branches from the trees. “You mean to tell me you used that wimpy saw to cut down all those trees you had here at your place?”

      Frank tossed him a teasing frown as he spoke in a conspiratorial whisper. “No, I used my chain saw for that, but I ain’t about to give you any more evidence to use against me, Ranger.”

      Clint laughed, noticing their exchange brought a wry smile to Josie’s lips. It was good they could now find humor in the tree permit violation. But that didn’t ease his discomfort around her. Not one bit.

      They piled into his truck and set off. The ride up to Crawford Mountain took fewer than forty minutes. The girls sat in the back, with Josie behind Clint. He focused on the road, trying not to look at her in the rearview mirror. When the black asphalt gave way to gravel and then muddy ruts, he shifted his truck into four-wheel drive and slowed down to negotiate the windblown drifts of snow.

      Frank had a satisfied smile on his weathered face. He seemed relaxed. Content to be here. And Clint wished he felt the same.

      He tried to tell himself he was just self-conscious because of the tree violation and asking Frank to learn to read. But he knew this jittery feeling went deeper than that, and he wished he could shake it off.

      He didn’t have to insist they all wear their seat belts. They each strapped in, their heads bobbing gently as the vehicle bounced over deep potholes in the washboard road. Come spring, he’d send a Forest Service crew up here to even out the potholes.

      The blast from the heater filled the cab with warmth and Clint switched it down a notch. The recent storms had blanketed the mountains in white. Though it was almost two in the afternoon, ice crystals clung to barren tree branches. Tall spruce and fir trees pierced the cerulean sky like elegant dancers. The river paralleling the road showed rocks and a shore that glistened like diamonds. He glanced at the crystal clear stream filled with frigid water. A beautiful winter scene. No prettier place on earth. Clint loved it here.

      “Brrr, I’d hate to swim in that river.” Looking out the window, Gracie gave a little shiver.

      “I would, too,” Josie agreed.

      “But it’s sure beautiful up here,” Clint said.

      Frank burst into a quick song, his bass voice vibrating through the air. It was a poignant verse about a young man stranded up on a mountain during a fierce winter storm. All the fellow wanted was to return to town and see his sweetheart one last time before he died. Instead, he froze to death and his shrieks of grief could still be heard on the mountain as the howling wind.

      “You have a beautiful voice, Frank,” Clint said when he’d finished the chorus. He’d always enjoyed Frank’s singing in the church choir.

      “But I don’t like that song. It’s so sad.” Gracie’s nose crinkled with repugnance.

      “You’re right. The young man forgot the most important thing while he was trapped up on the mountain alone,” Frank said.

      Clint felt both Gracie and Josie lean forward, eager to hear more.

      “And what’s that?” Josie asked.

      “He forgot to pray.”

      She released a breath of cynicism and sat back. In his rearview mirror, Clint saw her tight expression. Hmm. She must not believe in the power of prayer. Her disbelief fitted his preconceived notions of her. A woman of the world, focused on her job and getting ahead. And certainly not what he would ever consider wife and mommy material for him and Gracie. But if what Frank had told him about her life was true, Clint figured she had a right to be cynical.

      Gracie rested her miniature hands on the back of Frank’s seat. “You think God would have helped the man down off the mountain if he’d prayed?”

      “I do,” Frank said.

      Gracie touched Clint’s shoulder. “But, Daddy, why wouldn’t God help him off the mountain without him praying first?”

      From Josie’s skeptical expression, Clint could tell she wondered the same thing. Her doubt caused an overwhelming conviction to rise within his chest. In spite of how Karen had died, he felt God’s presence in his life every day. The Lord had sustained him through a very dark time. Though he had his own failings, Clint couldn’t help wanting to share his belief with others.

      “He would have, if it had met His plan,” he answered. “But I think our Heavenly Father is just like regular parents. Sometimes, He waits for us to ask for His help.”

      Gracie angled her head closer, resting her cheek against the shoulder of Frank’s red flannel coat. “What do you mean, Daddy?”

      Clint was aware of Josie waiting for his response with rapt attention. Her eyes deepened to a cobalt-blue and flashed with doubt.

      “I sometimes stand back and let you figure things out on your own, right?” he said.

      “Yes, sometimes. But you help me all the time, too.”

      “That’s right. But I don’t want to interfere if you don’t want me to. I try to stand back and let you learn some things on your own, including how to ask for my help. And when you ask, I step right in, because I love you so much. Well, I think God sometimes does the same thing for us. He wants us to live by faith, so He stands back and waits for us to call on Him for help. We don’t always know His plan for each of us, but I do know when we call on Him in prayer, He answers us. Maybe not the way we want, and maybe not on our timetable, but He does answer. Every time. It’s our job to exhibit faith.”

      Speaking the words aloud brought Clint a modicum of peace. And it renewed his conviction that God loved him and Gracie. Clint knew the Lord wanted nothing but the best for them. And it also reminded him that he must not forget to call on God in prayer. To never give up hope.

      Gracie sat back, thinking this over. “But your parents are dead. Who helps you, Daddy?”

      “The Lord does. With God, I’m never alone.” Clint peered in the rearview mirror at his daughter’s puzzled expression.

      He also noticed Josie, who stared out the window, seeming absorbed in thought. He wished she’d say something. Because he didn’t know her well, he didn’t want to push. At least not yet. Karen had been silent and deadly, keeping her feelings bottled up inside until they’d boiled over in tearful rage. Frank had never mentioned if Josie had a temper, and Clint sensed that wasn’t her way.

      Now, he was concerned. Gone was her cheerful smile; her forehead was creased with distrust. For some reason, Clint didn’t like seeing this woman unhappy. And he hoped he hadn’t said anything to drive her further away from God. He still had the impression that something was bothering her. Something big. But it wasn’t his business to question her. He couldn’t interfere. Not unless she asked him to.

      Just like the Lord.

      After finding a place to turn his truck around, Clint parked in the middle of the deserted road. He doubted anyone else would come along and need to get by them while they were up on the mountain. If they did, he’d move his truck.

      He killed the engine, then opened his door and got out. “Okay, ladies, you get the chore of choosing the trees. Make sure it’s what you want before we start to cut, though. I only have three permits.”

      Frank gave an exaggerated cough, as though he was swallowing a heavy chortle. “No, we don’t want any more extra trees to explain to the forest ranger.”

      Josie’s chuckle sounded from behind him and Clint didn’t even try to hide his smile. Yes, it was definitely good they could laugh about the situation now, and he liked that Josie had a sense of humor.

      The foot-deep snow crunched beneath his boots as he stepped back to let the girls out. Josie climbed down first, tugging on her gloves, her breath puffing on the air each time she exhaled.

      Clint looked at her tennis shoes and shook his head. He made a mental note