“How you doing there, boy?”
Dusty placed his head in the crook of Gil’s arm. He rubbed the horse’s nose with affection.
Trust.
Dusty had always trusted him, even when he didn’t deserve it.
Gil thought of his plan for Dillon and the high school rodeo.
“Hey, buddy.” Gil leaned down and pressed his forehead against Dusty’s. “I need you to trust me once more. It’s going to be hard, but I have one last job for you to do for me.”
GIL DROVE INTO DIAMOND FALLS TO TALK TO SOME PEOPLE ABOUT the rodeo, including Dillon’s dad. After he’d taken care of his business, he stopped by Clara’s Café.
“Heard anything from Mattie?” he asked when the waitress approached him with a menu.
Clara frowned. “What’s it to you?”
The woman either knew about the proposal or had heard the news about them leaving the ranch. The hostility in the air was enough to choke on. “It’s everything to me,” Gil said quietly, beseeching Mattie’s friend with his eyes. “Do you know where she is?”
Clara slapped the menu on the counter by his elbow. “Maybe.”
“Come on, Clara. You either know or you don’t.”
“She went to see her folks this weekend. Maybe her mom finally talked her into applying for a job there.” The woman placed her hands on her hips, unmoved by his pleas. “I wouldn’t blame Mattie if she gave in. Not much of a future for her here.”
Gil stared down at the menu. Was Mattie that desperate? He’d never known her to spend any amount of time in the city, let alone an entire weekend. “When will she be back?”
Clara pursed her lips and shook her head. “Even if I knew, I wouldn’t tell you.”
Gil had tolerated enough of this woman’s antagonism. “Listen, Clara, I know you’re sore with me, but I need you to do me a favor.” He took a pen from his shirt pocket and scribbled a note on a napkin. “It’s important. Make sure Mattie gets this message and comes to the rodeo tomorrow afternoon.”
“What if she refuses?”
He stood up from the stool and towered over the woman. “Clara, if you truly want Mattie to be happy, see that she’s at the arena at one o’clock. I don’t care if you have to hogtie her to your car.”
The next afternoon, Gil searched the crowded stands for Mattie’s red hair. From where he stood, he couldn’t see her anywhere, but he spotted his dad, Jake, and Mildred on the bottom level of the middle bleachers.
Dillon and his parents waited by Gil’s side at the arena gates. He gave the boy in the wheelchair a reassuring smile. “You ready?”
Dillon nodded but looked like he might puke his guts out.
“The first minute is always the worst. After that, you’ll be fine,” Gil said, then turned to Dusty and adjusted the saddle once more.
He patted the gelding, feeling a tad nervous himself. With all his charity work and the crowds he’d spoken to, he’d never done anything quite like this before. The preliminary music played over the loudspeakers — Gil’s cue to begin.
“Okay, here goes nothing.” He mounted Dusty, then adjusted his hat and took the flag handed him. As he entered the arena, the entire crowd stood as the national anthem began to play. He commenced at a walk, then eased Dusty into a trot, taking it slow as he’d done yesterday in the pasture. When he felt the horse ready, Gil clicked him into an easy lope, and together the two moved as one to the rhythm of the music.
The flag whipped above his head as he circled the arena. When the song neared its end, Gil positioned Dusty in the center of the ring, humbled by the massive applause. An older gentleman and a rodeo queen came out to meet him. He passed the wooden pole to the girl, who turned out to be Natalie Adams. She winked up at him and smiled. Then the gentleman handed him a cordless microphone.
Silence filled the stands. Gil swore he could hear his heart beating inside his chest.
“I want to thank you for allowing me to speak here today,” he began. “For those who don’t know me, my name’s Gilbert McCray. I grew up in Charris County and participated in a few rodeos like this one. Then my older brother Frank died in a vehicle accident. He and his friend were drunk, and both were killed. For a long time, I blamed myself for what happened to Frank. I moved away and became a quarterback for the San Francisco 49ers. Recently I came back, but only because of an accident involving the horse I’m on now.
“Five months ago, Dusty nearly died when a drunk driver ran into him. He lost a lot of blood and injured his upper legs, chest, and eye. The veterinarian handling the case suggested putting him down, but my dad wouldn’t let her. Because of my father’s determination and the special care Dusty received from Dr. Mattie Evans, I’m able to ride Dusty today, the same horse I trained over twenty-two years ago.”
Sighs of disbelief escaped from the crowd, along with a few encouraging whistles.
“I’m telling you this, because I want you to know that good things can come from bad. Even the worst sins can be forgiven. My sins are no exception. Yours aren’t either. A young man convinced me of this the other day, and you’ll be hearing from him in a few minutes.”
Gil swallowed to relieve the dryness in his throat. He clutched the saddle horn to keep his hand from trembling and glanced at the two behind him. They nodded their support. “Dusty’s better today and will soon be retired to pasture, like me.”
He grinned and returned his eyes to the crowd.
“Some of you may have heard the recent stir that my father and I are leaving the Flint Hills to retire out in California. I’d like to put that rumor to rest.”
Gil targeted his dad in the audience and smiled. “California was a nice idea, but it was a mistake. This is my home. Dad and I will not be moving, but will stay at the Lightning M to graze cattle for as long as God allows.” He took a quick breath and continued before he chickened out. “There’s another rumor floating around that I’d like to tackle, if you’ll hang with me for a few more minutes.”
He paused and searched the assembly. “Is Dr. Evans in the stands this afternoon?”
The crowd stirred with laughter and a few hoots.
“If you’re sitting by Mattie Evans, would you please wave your hand? The doc is kinda short, with red hair and green eyes, and she’s probably extremely embarrassed right now.”
An older woman on the far end of the bleachers stood and waved. “Here she is, Gil.” She tugged on the lady next to her, and Mattie slowly rose.
The audience began chanting Mattie’s name, and Gil beckoned her to come to the center of the arena. Mattie shook her head vigorously, but at the urgings of the crowd, she slowly began making her way down the bleachers.
“Four weeks ago, I asked this woman to marry me.” Gil spoke into the microphone and ignored the whoops from the audience, concentrating on Mattie as she walked out across the cultivated dirt. “She turned me down, but I’d like to try again and see if her answer is any different — now that we won’t be moving to California.”
Mattie stopped halfway between him and the bleachers. Afraid she might change her mind, Gil slipped from the saddle and flipped off the microphone. He closed the distance between them and knelt before her, shutting out the sound of the crowd much like he’d done all those years playing football.
Dressed in blue jeans and a green-checkered western shirt with her long curls flowing in the afternoon sunlight, Mattie looked more beautiful than he’d ever seen her before. He might never remember what she wore this day, but Gil was sure the shiny gleam in her eyes would stay with him the rest of his life.
He took his hat off and held it in his hand. “What do you say, Doc? Will you marry me?”
She sent him a scolding look that promised more conversation later. Then she held out the napkin with words written in blue ink. I’m sorry — I’ve been a fool.
“I’m sorry too,” she said, and her mouth twitched as though she might cry. “If you really want to move to California, I’m prepared to go with you.”
&nb
sp; Gil stood and pulled her into his arms. “Do you know how much I love you, woman? I love that you’re willing to sacrifice your dreams for us — that you’d do that for me. But it won’t be necessary. I finally realized that holding on to my guilt and sin granted them more power than the Lord’s forgiveness. Do you know how stupid that was? If I truly believe that Christ forgives sins, then that includes mine. Once I got that through my thick skull, my love for the Lightning M — these hills — came rushing back. Dad and I are staying.” He kissed her then, long and hard, welcoming the taste of her mouth on his with promise of more to come. When he came up for air, he clicked the microphone back on.
“I guess that means yes,” he said gruffly, and the audience roared.
He grabbed Mattie’s hand, and they hiked to where Dusty stood. “I have one more thing to say before I turn this microphone over.” Gil put his hat back on and motioned to the high school rodeo queen who carried a big silver buckle.
“I’d like to present this prize buckle to this weekend’s overall winning cowboy, in honor of my brother Frank, and Dusty, and to all of you who have the courage to set a course for yourself and follow your dreams despite troubles that come your way. Our next speaker is a young man many of you know well. He would have been in today’s competition had he not been involved in a drunk-driving accident last January. Please welcome Mr. Dillon Marshall.”
Applause filled the air as a Ford truck entered the arena with the Marshall family sitting in the back. When the truck stopped, Gil handed Dillon the microphone, then tipped his hat to the young boy, knowing how difficult the next few minutes would be for him. He and Mattie stood beside the truck for moral support as Dillon spoke about stupid mistakes, how much they could cost you, and the grace to go on.
“You did well, Dillon,” Gil said when the boy finished. “Let me know if you ever want to do this again, and my foundation will set you up on a high school tour across the nation.” Gil shook the boy’s hand, then pulled Mattie to his side, not wanting to let her go.
“You never gave up on your dream, either,” Gil told her and took hold of Dusty’s reins to lead him out of the arena. “You loved these hills, and you never abandoned them.”
Mattie gazed up into his eyes. “But I was wrong. I love this land, Gil, but I love you more. These hills don’t mean a thing if I don’t have you to share my life with.”
At that, Gil crooked his arm around her neck and kissed her cheek. His soul stirred at the knowledge that Mattie would be his forever — soul mates. “I’m just glad you brought me to my senses. It took a few kicks — from you, Dad, and some other people God placed in my path, but I’m finally convinced.” He twisted one of her curls around his finger and smiled.
“I don’t need to run anymore. I’ve found my home . . . right here with you.”
His dad met them at the arena gate and held his arms out for Gil and Mattie. “Does this mean I’m finally going to get me some grand-kids to teach how to rope and sit a saddle? You’d better get married quick and get crackin’. I don’t know how much time I’ve got left.” He chuckled and thumped Gil’s head with enthusiasm.
Mattie’s cheeks flushed pink.
Gil grinned as he imagined his kids riding the green hills of Charris County, on horses his family raised — strong, dependable horses with lots of heart. A knot formed in his throat as he thought of the good times ahead.
Thank you, Lord, for all you’ve given me — for all you’ve forgiven me for. I couldn’t ask for more.
Gil McCray was finally home.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
TO MY LORD AND SAVIOR, FOR QUIETLY WHISPERING IN MY EAR TO finish the book so You could do the rest. All praise and glory are Yours.
To my loving husband, Christopher, for all the love and support you gave in the development of this series and especially for agreeing to tag along on all my trips to the Flint Hills. I will forever remember and cherish those days in my heart.
To my lovely daughters, Samantha, Maggie, and Abigail, for listening to me go on and on about my characters and for offering your encouragement and hugs. I treasure your hugs.
To Beth Jusino, for encouraging me to follow my passion for this book and make it bigger. To Rachelle Gardner, at WordServe Literary, for taking on where Beth left off. A huge thank-you for believing in my work and for making me your client. You are the best agent a girl could have!
To Sue Brower, who believed in this story enough to try one more time! And to the many editors, sales, and marketing people at Zondervan. Thank you for your hard work in making this series so beautiful.
To my critique partners, for their help in making this book better, always better. To Tamera Alexander, Beth Goddard, Lisa Harris, Cora Jenson, Jeanne Leach — thank you ladies for being there at the beginning and for being such wonderful friends. Thanks also to Carole Brown, Peg Phifer, and Christy Miller. A special thank-you to my local writer’s group, CWF, and especially to Lisa Goins for being my personal cheerleader.
To the many professionals who gave their time and help. To Doctors of Veterinarian Medicine, Scott Baldwin, Paul Cotterill, Carol Hines, and Tracy Hucke; to Jim and Joan Donahue for offering their help and allowing us to stay at the Clover Cliff; to Dr. Jim Hoy for his expertise on the Flint Hills and for teaching the Flint Hills Folklife class at ESU where my passion for the Flint Hills began; to Jenny Cary and Georgiana Daniels for their help with the football scenes.
To the many people who prayed with me and for me during this long road to publication. I could never list all your names, but you know who you are. To my Kansas writing friends Judith Miller, Deborah Raney, and Kim Vogel-Sawyer, you ladies are terrific! To the members at Good Shepherd Church, thank you for your love and support and for always being there for me.
Lastly, thank you, Gayle Ballard, for her help in promotion assistance on the tail end of this project.
May God bless you all,
Deborah
MATTIE’S
SNICKERDOODLES
1 cup shortening
1 1/2 cups sugar
2 eggs
2 3/4 cups all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons cream of tartar
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
2 Tablespoons sugar & 2 teaspoons cinnamon mixed together in small bowl
In large bowl cream together shortening, sugar, and eggs. In a separate bowl sift together flour, cream of tartar, baking soda, and salt. Add to creamed mixture. Chill dough for 30 minutes. Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Roll into walnut-size balls. Roll balls into the sugar and cinnamon mixture. Place two inches apart on greased baking sheet and bake for 8–10 minutes until lightly browned but still soft. These cookies puff up first then flatten out with crinkled tops. Enjoy!
For the latest news and to sign up for a free e-newsletter,
please visit www.deborahvogts.com
Deborah would love to hear from you!
Feel free to write her at [email protected] or:
Deborah Vogts
PO Box 232
Erie, KS 66733
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