Follow a Wild Heart: A Christian Contemporary Western Romance Series

by Natalie Bright

  Bianca's mouth smirked and her eyes rolled skyward. "If little Miss Poser can't control her horse, she shouldn't be on one. I've been riding since before I could walk. I know what I'm doing. And I'm sick of your rules. You take all the fun out of everything. I'm outta here."

  With that, Bianca yanked her horse around and jabbed both heels to kick Mouse into a gallop straight for the barn.

  "Bianca! Walk him back to the barn, please. No one is to race a horse back..."

  But it was too late. Bianca couldn't hear her anymore. Or maybe she just had tuned Carli out.

  "Sorry, Miss Carli."

  "It's not your fault, Lexi. Let's just get these horses back to the barn and unsaddle them. We're all going to have to talk before I can take students out on a ride again. That behavior is just too dangerous and it's unkind to the horse. It's not what LoveJoy Riding School is all about."

  Good Lord, what have I got myself into?

  Chapter Nineteen

  Carli forced a smile and waved at Lexi’s mother as the girl climbed into the back seat. She watched brake lights move slowly out of ranch headquarters until their vehicle rattled the cattle guard at the top of the hill, and then vanish around the turn. As their car disappeared, another one came into view and drove slowly down the hill.

  “Bianca, your mom’s here,” said Carli.

  The red-haired spitfire emerged from the saddle house with a big smile. A total transformation from the angry young girl who had been rolling around in the dirt hours before, or so it seemed. Carli was suspicious of this youngster.

  Carli opened the corral gate for her. “Thanks for coming today, Bianca. It was nice meeting you. Next time we'll ride in the arena and go over some ground rules.”

  The girl let out an "Hmph".

  The second car pulled to a stop and a woman with fire-engine red hair like Bianca’s stepped out. “How'd you girls do today?”

  “Pretty good, for the first day,” said Carli. “Thanks for bringing her out. Looks like Bianca knows how to ride.”

  Bianca glared at Carli. “We had to listen to a stupid Bible story, Mom.” Bianca grumbled as she walked towards the car.

  Bianca’s mother looked at Carli, concern showing across her face. “Your public page doesn’t say anything about Bible study.”

  “LoveJoy is a Christian-based school. It's mentioned in the 'About Us',” Carli explained. “My plan is to bring kids together who love horses. I’m learning new things about the Bible and I thought others might enjoy it too. Today’s discussion was on the Prodigal Son. The girls seemed pretty interested.”

  “I don't think Bianca will be coming back. You can’t force religion on her. She's had enough of that from her grandmother.” Without another word the young girl and her mother got in their car and drove away. Carli stood stunned, watching their car until they were out of sight.

  Lola walked out of the cookhouse. “Are the girls gone?”

  “That's it. I’m closing the riding school. This must be a sign from God!” Carli slid down against the pipe fence on the outside of the corral and collapsed on the dead grass. Her body felt like it’d been run over by one of their registered Angus bulls.

  “What are you talking about?” Lola pretended concern but couldn’t stifle the giggle that followed.

  “I am so wiped out. My feet hurt, my back hurts, my head hurts.” Carli cradled her face in shaky hands, her voice choked with tears. “Those girls! What in the world caused them to roll around in the dirt and try to beat up on each other? That was a total disaster. And the way Bianca rode like a wild woman not paying any attention to me. And now Bianca's mother says I'm forcing religion on them and she's not bringing her daughter back. I can’t do this, Lola.” Carli yanked off her cowboy hat and wiped her face with the sleeve of her shirt. What a stupid morning.

  “Believe me, this is no sign from God. This is dealing with teenagers.” Lola eased down to the dirt next to her. “You’re not really that much older than they are. Well, maybe ten years. But you can relate better than I can. Maybe it was my Prodigal Son story that got everyone stirred up?”

  Carli turned to look at Lola and when their eyes met, they burst into giggles.

  “I may not be a parent, but I have nieces and nephews, and I’ve taught Sunday School for most of my life. You have to be patient.”

  “Patient? This was like a war zone,” said Carli. “I wasn’t prepared for that.”

  Lola patted Carli’s leg. “How about I rustle us up some lunch? I have cherry cobbler from last night.”

  “Thanks, Lola, but I think I’ll go home and sit in the quiet. Thanks for your help this morning. I really appreciate it.”

  “It was my pleasure. I had fun.” Lola stood, but before walking away she turned. “Your school is a good idea, Carli. Don’t give up on the kids yet.”

  “I don’t know how to handle emotional outbursts. What should we do?” Carli couldn’t find enough energy to even get up from the ground.

  “Just be kind and love them. That’s all we can do.” Lola patted Carli on her shoulder. “You’ll do just fine.”

  What exactly should she be looking for to know if she was on the right path or not? God had a funny way of showing her which way to go. One thing for sure, she needed to read every article she could find on dealing with difficult teens. She was absolutely unprepared for today. She didn’t exactly have huge expectations for opening day of the riding school, but this was definitely not what she had envisioned.

  All she wanted to do was offer a chance for kids to be around horses, enjoy a nice ride, and teach them a little bit about the most amazing animals on the planet. She had loved horses her whole life, and she wanted to give others the same opportunity.

  Is that too much to ask, God?

  Wearily, she put her hat back on, stood, and brushed her hands off on her jeans.

  “Y’all had some excitement today. Anybody hurt?”

  Carli looked up to see Lank leaning in the saddle house door, his thumbs hooked in his belt, a wide grin covering his face. She ignored the flutter in her stomach. Glad he was here and didn’t take her firing him seriously, but also annoyed he always looked so decked out and “Texas ranchy”. He was the real deal all right. Cowboy hats got to her every time.

  “No one was hurt. Some hair pulling and mild shirt ripping. Rowdy teenage girls. I wish it hadn’t happened, but I guess it’s all part of the process.”

  “Buck said to brush some horses and clean the tack room. I got my job back.”

  “Yes, I see you got your job back, Mr. Torres.” His eyebrows raised at the use of his last name. It made Carli feel empowered, that she could get to him however slight.

  “I’m happy to help with your riding school any time, Carli. By the way, where was your boyfriend?”

  Oh, brother. Here we go.

  “We can’t all take the morning off for this program. Nathan was supposed to be here but must have gotten held up. He’s just being neighborly.”

  “A little more than that, I'd say.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “Well, you go on dates, don’t you? That’s more than just being neighbors, if you ask me.”

  “No one asked you, so please keep your opinions to yourself.” She didn’t want to talk about this with him. It was her personal life. She was his boss. He was a ranch hand. They’d all been through a lot what with the fire, then the snowstorm, but now she had to get serious and run her ranch. Guys like Lank only complicated things. After this morning, it was more than she could handle.

  “I guess that’s right, Miss Jameson. No one asked me.”

  “I’ve got to get cleaned up. And I’m sure you’ve got work to do.”

  “Sure thing, boss lady. Whatever you say.”

  She glared at him for a moment, trying to decide if she should yell and scream, or just ignore him. He met her gaze, his eyes cool and steady, which annoyed her even more. She spun on her heels and walked to the house.

  What a d
ay. And Lank just added the cherry on top. She had a lot of thinking to do about her plans for the LoveJoy Riding School. She asked for a sign. She got a sign all right, but was it a sign from God or the Devil himself? She had no idea how to know the difference.

  Chapter Twenty

  A bright flame-burst lit up the barn, and then an air compressor clicking on filled the quiet. Nathan Olsen looked like a Star Wars stormtrooper in his white welder’s helmet as he operated the acetylene torch. The shop was peaceful, and he worked surrounded by darkness except for the task light hanging directly overhead. He liked welding late at night or early morning before dawn when he was less likely to be bothered. He had automatically assumed the job of ranch welder after his grandfather passed, but not before he learned everything he could from the old man. Building gates, repairing cattle guards destroyed by distracted drivers, and anything else that needed repair. Today he took a bold step to make something a little different. Probably inspired by the day with Carli at the art gallery. After lying awake for several nights thinking about the design, he woke up this morning eager to give it a try but didn’t make it to the shop until after dark this evening.

  Carli stayed on his mind as well. He gave her credit for leaving a life in Georgia to move to the Texas ranch she had inherited from a grandfather she never knew. He wanted to know more about her, yet he felt her holding back. Maybe something happened in Georgia? Maybe it had to do with her being raised by guardians and never knowing her family? She was a mysterious puzzle, that’s for sure, but he wasn’t giving up hope. He was drawn to her, more than he’d ever been before to anyone else.

  As he bent over his work in deep concentration, he didn’t know anyone was in the shop until he felt a hand on his back. Nathan flipped the welding hood up and turned to look over his shoulder.

  Skip Olsen raised his voice over the equipment sounds. “Whatcha up to, Son?”

  “Making a copper rose for Mom’s birthday. She loves roses. Take a look. I’m almost done.”

  “When did you learn to do that?” He glanced at the piece for a split second.

  Now’s your chance. Say something. Tell him. Nathan’s heart thudded in his chest, but before he could open his mouth, his dad began listing chores. “We’re gettin’ a load of mineral block delivered tomorrow. Could you meet the truck with the skid loader and stack them in the hay barn? Haul a couple of round bales out to the big pen for the horses. The vet’s coming, around ten, to take a look at a couple of the broodmares, just routine. Then I have a bunch of paychecks you can hand out to the boys. And make sure your brother drags that arena next to the barn. It’s muddier than a pig pen.”

  Nathan’s shoulders dropped in defeat. “Maybe Angie could do it? I’d like to finish this up for Mother.” The minute the words left his mouth, he knew he should have kept it shut. His father’s face took on a brighter shade of red and his expression grew hard.

  “I gave you time off in the middle of the week to eat lunch in town. And then you were gone all day long last weekend, but you never said where.” His booming voice echoed in the concrete shop building and drowned out the welder. “I think I’ve been more than generous. No more lollygagging. This ranch doesn't run itself.”

  Nathan turned the welder off. “Yes, sir,” he said quietly. Then Nathan looked to his dad and asked, “Where you gonna be?” It was a risky question, but once again it slipped from his mouth before he thought to not speak.

  “I’ve got a Honey Do list to tackle with your Mom in town. Need groceries and I don’t know what else. I think she invited half the county to celebrate her birthday and Mother’s Day. And of course, her greatest joy is cooking a big meal. You should invite Carli.”

  “Sure, Dad. Hey listen, I’d like to talk to you about something.”

  Ignoring Nathan’s comment, he kept talking. “Oh! Almost forgot. Can you get someone to follow you and drop my truck off to Lamar’s? Needs an oil change and tires rotated. Sometimes they can deliver it back to us. Or you could wait for it. We’ll take Mom’s car to town.”

  With a heavy sigh, Nathan replied, “Sure, Dad.” There was no way he could get through all that in one day. The other Olsen kids went about their business, while the entire operation fell on his shoulders. He’d gone so many years without saying anything, it was next to impossible to argue now. His breath came raggedly in frustration and anger, but he choked down his words and remained silent.

  Before he flipped his face mask down again, he focused on the copper rose. The thin sheets of metal were bending exactly like he had pictured, slowly taking shape into an open flower.

  Nathan heard his father mumble as he walked to the door. “Now get to bed. We have a long day tomorrow. Don’t know why you fool with that kind of stuff. It’s not like you got any real talent for that sort of thing.”

  The words stung and Nathan was surprised by that. He wanted to be a full-time artist and knew if he had the chance to work at his craft and study more, he might actually be able to make a living at it. He always loved making things since he was a little kid—Lego cities, wooden furniture, and his grandfather Olsen encouraged his interest. To Nathan it was a passion, not some passing phase; it was something he had to do to feel that his life mattered. It was as though he was given a mission, a gift, a special talent no one else possessed. If he didn’t work with it, if he just let it waste away and go dormant, he felt it would die, that maybe his life and dreams would die. But he never told anyone about his desire to become an artist until he met Carli. She inspired him to be better.

  His mother thought it was a nice hobby and often praised his efforts when he’d been a young boy. She never knew about the burning desire he kept hidden though. But he didn’t have much time to work on his ideas, and he knew no one realized how deeply he felt it in his soul. He couldn’t imagine his parents, particularly his father, understanding him wanting to “do art” for his life’s work. Naturally, they thought he’d take over the magnificent Rafter O Ranch, a place he couldn’t figure out how to get away from. The idea left him with a bitter taste in his mouth. What if he didn’t want to oversee the towering legacy of the Olsen family? As the first born, it had always been assumed he would take over, but no one ever asked his opinion.

  How could he explain it to them? How could he make them understand he was sick of ranch work and didn't want to do it every day for the rest of his life? Instead, he wanted to get up in the morning, happy to be alive, excited to work on a piece of his own creation, his art. He wanted to live out his passion.

  Carli understood. He could talk to her about things like this. She listened. She encouraged him to talk to his dad. And said we all had to be true to our own dreams, that we couldn’t live someone else’s life. She was right. He’d tell his parents soon. He just had to.

  But right now, he stayed lost in the flame of the torch. His secret place. It was where he could go to feel at peace. Watching the metal change shape and turn red with heat held him spellbound, like watching volcanos being created, lava flowing in a river out of a mountain. Then he would bend and shape the soft metal into an object that had never existed before—like a rose for his mother. He made other larger things—a barn sign for a neighbor and a few decorative pieces another neighbor took to be sold at a craft fair, just for fun. His father never knew about any of them.

  What he really wanted to work on were life-sized, bronze sculptures. But he had to learn more about that.

  He shut off the torch, removed his helmet, and pressed Carli's number on his phone contact list. “Hey, how ya doing?”

  “Is everything okay, Nate? You sound troubled.”

  “I’m working on a metal project. Needed to take a break. I wanted to ask you about Sunday lunch with the family. We’re celebrating Mom’s birthday and Mother’s Day.”

  “Sure, Nate, that’d be fun, thanks for asking.”

  “My dad was the one who reminded me to ask you over.” He smiled when he heard her laughter at the other end.

  “Sounds nice
, Nate. You said the magic word—food. I do like a good burger.”

  They both chuckled.

  “And Carli,” his voice grew serious, “thanks again for going with me to the art gallery.”

  “Don’t mention it. It was a fun day. See you Sunday. I’ll just drive over.”

  He disconnected the call, slipped his phone back into his pocket, and opened the cooler. He took out a water bottle and set it on the metal workbench he had made a few years back. As he looked around the shop, he began thinking about taking his art to the next level.

  Nathan took a sip of water and thought about what his grandpa used to say in an effort to get him to hurry up and make a decision on what kind of milkshake he wanted from the Dixie Maid Drive-in. Grandpa Olsen was an ornery old cuss who spoke in plain cowboy lingo. He could be crude sometimes, but you always knew where he stood on things.

  “Do your business or get off the pot, boy.” Saying those words out loud made Nathan laugh. “I hear ya, Grandpa.”

  It was time to get serious about this so-called “hobby” of his. He needed to own it or just forget about it. More than anything, he wanted to give it a try. There’d be hell to pay around the Olsen family ranch though. For that, he was certain.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Nathan Olsen waited patiently for the old drip coffee pot to finish as he studied the layout of the shop building that took up one side of the Rafter O Ranch headquarters compound. It wasn’t sunup yet. Unable to sleep because the copper rose kept tugging at his mind, he finally stopped fighting the covers, got dressed, and came out to the shop. He contemplated a new arrangement, one that would allow him room to set up a metal working area. If he moved that pile of old trailer tires from the far corner and stacked them outside, he might be out of everybody’s way. Wooden pallets rose almost to the ceiling. Those could go somewhere else too.