Heath, making his way on foot through blinding snow, slipped and fell.

It was not the first time he'd fallen, nor, he thought to himself, would it be the last.

Unless---no, even though it might be best to not try to get up, to just relax and let sleep come, he wasn't ready to give up yet. If he went to sleep, death would soon follow.

Just this morning, as Heath boarded the stage for the final leg home to Stockton, the idea that he would end up on foot, lost, and in danger of freezing to death, was the last thing on his mind.

The first thing on his mind was getting home to be with his mother, three brothers, and sister. It would be his second Christmas with the Barkley family, a family he'd found when he was twenty four years old, and had learned to love dearly.

The stage had been forced to take a detour over a more mountainous terrain than was its usual route from up North. When they ran into the blizzard, the driver said there was nothing to do but go on. Heath agreed. Being the only passenger, he'd climbed up on the stage to help the driver keep the horses on the path. Their efforts had eventually failed.

The animals lost their way, the stage left the path and became stuck.

The driver of the stage was much older than Heath, too old, young Barkley concluded, to do anything but stay put while he, Heath, went for help. He had mounted one of the horses and tried to head back the way they came from. The horse balked and reared constantly, not wanting to tred through the snow any more. Heath now conceded to himself he had not used particularly good sense when he dismounted and tried to lead the horse.

The animal simply refused to be led.

"I turned him loose for his own good," Heath muttered to himself, tromping through snow drifts without the faintest idea what had happened to the horse or where he, himself, was.

"This is it," he continued to talk to himself. "I hate to do this to the family. They've been good to me, loved me. I should have used better judgment, but I can't go on."

With that statement, Heath lowered himself to the ground. But then-----a bright light appeared just before him. He thought for sure he was dying, was on his way to the other side, when the horse he had turned loose came galloping up. On the animal's back was a man.

Heath recognized him.

"I know you," he said, thinking to himself as he said it that he must surely be crazy. The horse wasn't there, and neither was the man he was talking to.

"Yes, you know me, Heath," said the man. "And I wish we had time to talk, wish I'd known about you while I was still, well, while I could have been able to share your life."

Heath rose from the ground. He knew who this was! It was Tom Barkley, his father. "I'm seeing things. I wish you were here, I'd give you a piece of my mind for what you did to my mother and me."

The man chuckled. "I don't blame you for that, son, but there's no time now. C'mon, get on the horse behind me. I'll see you home. Victoria, Jarrod, Nick, Eugene and Audra are waiting for you."

Of course he was delusional. Heath had no doubt of that, but just the same, he walked over to the horse. The man extended his hand down, helped Heath to mount, and they rode off.

The bright light stayed just in front of them. I've died, thought Heath.

I've died, because this can't be happening. If it is real, it would mean that Tom Barkley is now my guardian angel, an angel seeing me home to the family for Christmas, seeing me home to those who had loved him and now love me.

In no time at all, the horse galloped through the Barkley ranch gate.

"Here we are, son. Have a nice Christmas. I'll see to the stage driver and the other horse. Don't worry."

"But---You can't go now."

The man smiled. "I can't stay, Heath. I'm just glad I was chosen to help you tonight. Tell the others Merry Christmas for me. I love them all, and I love you."

Stunned beyond words, Heath dismounted. He stared at the big house, then turned back to say something to the man---but horse and rider had disappeared. "Merry Christmas, Father."