The boy dropped the kitten and stood before his sister, his eyes downcast. “I’ll do them now. Go ahead and eat without me.” He peeked up at Jared, his mouth a straight line. The sadness there made Jared want to take the kid fishing, play catch, anything but stand here and witness his dejection.
“Maybe I could help with those chores.” Jared eased into the conversation. “Then we could have dinner together.”
Dillon’s brown eyes filled with guarded curiosity. “You’re gonna eat with us?”
“That’s right. Maybe afterward, you could share a few of your fishing secrets. Those flathead you caught made for some mighty fine eating.” Jared knew this suggestion overstepped his boundaries but deemed the risk worth taking. He’d fend off big sister later. In fact, he felt her gaze blazing a hole through him this very second.
NATALIE PICKED UP AN OVERTURNED BUCKET AND HANDED IT TO DILLON. The man had a lot of nerve intruding on their life this way. “Let’s get through supper, shall we, before we go sharing any secrets.” She shot a warning glance at Mr. Logan and then her brother.
Dillon’s smile faded, his disappointment designating her as the bad guy, always the bad guy.
Despite her annoyance, she watched as Jared and her brother headed out of the barn with buckets of grain to feed the horses and goats. Plagued by guilt, she peered up at the wooden rafters and breathed in the scent of aged cedar. A tear trickled down her cheek as she thought of days long past, when she’d skipped beside her father as he carried buckets of grain too heavy for her to manage. She could almost hear his hearty laughter as he lifted her onto his shoulders to pet the horses on the other side of the pen. Those moments became particularly special after her mother passed away, their bond growing even stronger.
Would Dillon look back with such remembrances of their father? She could only hope. But what about now? How was she to manage getting the kids through this ordeal?
“Oh, Dad, why did you have to go?” she whispered, the ache so fierce in her chest it threatened to steal her breath. Biting back fresh tears, she spun on her boot heels to return to the house. This was not the time to wimp out—not with Chelsey needing help with supper, and a stranger joining them at their table.
NATALIE PURPOSELY SAT ACROSS FROM JARED LOGAN, WANTING TO KEEP an eye on him throughout the meal. Despite his helpful sentiments, she didn’t trust the man. Strangers weren’t that thoughtful and caring—and if they were, it was normally because they wanted something.
She passed Dillon the bowl of fried potatoes, then stabbed a pork chop with her fork. “What brings you to Diamond Falls, Mr. Logan? I mean, let’s face it, unless you own land or have family here, it’s not the most happening place to live.”
Dillon passed him the bowl of potatoes, and Jared scooped out a meager portion. “It’s where God wanted me to be.”
Natalie sipped her iced tea and studied the clean-cut man, having already determined he didn’t hold a blue-collar job or one in ranching. “What makes you so sure?”
“I’m here, aren’t I?” He grinned and accepted the next dish handed to him.
“If I were you, I think I’d ask for a transfer.” She allowed her lips to curve upward, so as not to appear inhospitable.
“I don’t know why you’d say that.” His eyes, the color of dark coffee, seemed to look directly through her, as though he could see her inmost thoughts. “Here you are, living on this beautiful ranch, rich with cattle, grass, and I’m sure a treasure of memories. Most of the people I’ve talked to consider themselves fortunate to live in the Flint Hills. Why not you?”
Natalie broke eye contact as she cut into the golden-crusted meat on her plate. “We weren’t talking about me, Mr. Logan. Do you own land?”
“No, but that doesn’t keep me from enjoying it.” He winked at Chelsey, who in turn giggled.
“Okay, you enjoy fishing.” She tried a different approach. “What else? Hunting? Horseback riding?”
“Some of my best memories include fishing on my granddad’s farm. I spent my summers there, helping him in the fields and driving a tractor.”
“Is that why you’re here, then? To relive your childhood?”
“No, those days are over.” The gleam in Jared’s eyes dimmed. “I put away childish ways long ago.”
Natalie considered his strange words throughout the rest of dinner, and afterward peered out the window at Jared and Dillon sifting through her brother’s tackle box on the front porch. Jared’s enthusiasm matched that of the boy’s as her brother gave a detailed explanation for each of the lures and its use.
Did God truly look after people? She lifted the curtain to study the man on the porch. If so, why had God allowed such doom to fall on her family? It made no sense. She’d always believed that if you went after something with enough determination you would succeed. Her life testified to this. She’d succeeded at everything she pursued, whether it was barrel racing, a college scholarship, or being crowned Miss Rodeo Kansas.
Her theory stumbled in Las Vegas when her hard work failed to pay off…and that downward spiral continued to this day. What was the answer? Who was in charge of her future? God…or herself?
Jared glanced up at the window then, his hand batting at the night insects that drifted from the porch light. She let the curtain fall and stepped away, hoping he hadn’t seen her. To her dismay, the man rose from his position and moved to the front door.
Rather than be caught peeping, Natalie fell into a nearby chair and grabbed the closest book. When Jared and her brother entered the room, she realized she held a telephone directory.
“I wondered if we might talk before I go?” Jared aimed his question at Natalie.
She slid the volume to a wooden stand. “Dillon, isn’t it your bedtime?”
Her brother’s happy disposition plummeted. “But it’s early.”
“Yes, and it’s a school night too.” She waited for him to explode into a tantrum as he’d done every night this week since returning to school. Perhaps it had been a mistake to send him back after their father’s funeral.
“You’d better do as your sister says,” Jared interceded. “We’ll have lots of time this summer to talk about fishing—with your sister’s permission, of course.”
To Natalie’s surprise, Dillon said good night and bounded up the flight of stairs without another word of argument.
“I wish he minded me that well.” Natalie rose from her chair, feeling foolish for not having better control of the situation.
Jared went to the door and held it open. “It’s a beautiful evening. Walk with me to my car?”
Natalie wondered what he had in mind. She’d handled all sorts of situations as Miss Rodeo Kansas, she could surely handle Jared Logan.
“Okay, you have my undivided attention,” she said once they were on the front steps. “What did you want to talk to me about?”
He held her elbow as she went down the concrete steps, his fingers cool against her skin. “Thank you for allowing me to stay for dinner—for opening your home when you made it quite clear you didn’t want me here.”
She hugged her arms to her chest, moving away from his touch. “You have a way with kids, or at least with Dillon. He really likes you.”
“He’s a sharp boy, which is one of the reasons I wanted to speak to you. I have experience with grief counseling. Have you considered that for your family?”
Natalie swallowed the automatic refusal on her tongue. “I appreciate your concern, but we’re fine, or at least we will be. It’s only been a couple of weeks. We’re surely allowed some time to come to terms with…his death.” Her throat tightened at having to say the word aloud.
He stopped at his car and leaned against the dusty frame. “All I meant was it’s an option, should you find yourselves unable to cope. From what I can tell, Dillon and Chelsey seem to be doing well.”
Yes, but if you only knew…She wrestled down the anxious reply. He didn’t know about Chelsey’s reckless behavior, or Dillon’s silent retr
eats from the family. Or how difficult it was to be an older sister—a confidant—and then suddenly be the one who makes all the rules, in charge of everything and everyone, and not having the slightest clue what her future held.
“What about you?” he asked. “Dillon told me you came home from college to take care of him and Chelsey. That’s quite a sacrifice.”
Natalie’s eyes filled with tears. She spun away to swipe the dampness from her cheeks, but it was useless. One concerned comment from a complete stranger had caused the floodgate to burst. Tears gushed from her like a fountain. Then a gentle grip on her forearm urged her to turn and be comforted.
EIGHT
JARED TOOK THE YOUNG WOMAN AWKWARDLY IN HIS ARMS, UNABLE TO resist consoling her tears. “I know it’s hard, but I can tell you’re a strong person. You’ll get through this. God can help you.”
She cried into his shoulder. Most people, he’d learned from seminary, kept their grief bound until it burst from inside, usually at the least expected moment. His heart ached for this girl and her family, and he timidly patted her back.
“Sometimes it’s easier to speak to a stranger than it is to confide in someone you know.”
Her sobs eased, and she pulled away, her embarrassment palpable. “It’s been so hard.” Her words came out choked, and Jared strained to hear.
“I’m listening.” He closed his eyes and had to concentrate to absorb her words and not the light flowery scent of her hair.
“He died so unexpectedly. Trapped beneath a tractor. A horrid death—but I can’t tell Dillon that. The kids and I weren’t here when it happened, but still the images come to me in my sleep. They won’t go away.” Another sob escaped her lips.
Jared nodded and gazed at her, the porch light illuminating her face in the dark night. “I know it doesn’t seem like it now, but once you’re over the shock, the nightmares will fade.”
“I planned to graduate from college next fall, but that’s not going to happen now.” She wiped her cheeks and sniffed. “Not with the ranch, the kids, the summer hay crop and cattle…So much for my queen scholarships. They’ll all be for nothing.”
Jared straightened, wondering if he’d heard correctly. “Queen scholarships?” He conjured a picture of her in one of those long sequined gowns. Somehow, the image didn’t fit her personality.
“Go ahead, laugh. Everyone does.” She leaned against the side of the car, and her teary eyes glistened beneath the stars. “You’re looking at the former Miss Rodeo Kansas, first runner up in the Miss Rodeo America pageant held last December.”
Jared tried not to gawk. Not only was this woman beautiful, she was accomplished—and exposed. “Obviously, the judges didn’t know what they were doing when they gave the prize to someone else,” he said under his breath. “Forgive my ignorance, but what does a rodeo queen do besides look pretty?”
She shook her head as though she’d been asked that question before. “Why do people always assume it’s all about being pretty?”
“Probably because the participants are gorgeous.” He grinned, present company included. “Okay, you’ve piqued my interest. What does it take to be a rodeo queen?”
Natalie sniffed and wiped the remaining tears from her eyes. “I like to think of the pageant as a scholarship program—based on appearance, personality, and horsemanship. It’s so much more than a beauty pageant—at least it is for me.”
Jared imagined Natalie on a galloping horse with a white hat and western garb. It suited her better than a sequined gown on a lighted runway. “A beauty pageant on a horse,” he said, unable to keep the teasing note from his voice.
“It’s harder than you think.” Her eyes narrowed. “We’re expected to know everything about the sport of rodeo and its profession, from who won last year’s world championships to horse-related injuries or diseases. And that’s just the interview portion.”
“Yet, it probably seems easy compared to what you’re up against today.” Jared shifted to see her better and considered her trials. Raising a family was hard enough when circumstances were good, but having to raise two siblings, run a ranch, and deal with her father’s death might prove too much for a young woman to bear. He knew then that God had called him to help this family. “I want you to know that if you need anything, you can call me. Even if it’s to help around the ranch or to spend time with Dillon.”
Natalie stared at her boots. “Why would you do that? You hardly know us.”
“I know your circumstances.” When the moment turned too quiet, he nudged her elbow. “Come on, let me see your smile…that competition smile you save for judges.”
Her mouth angled into a slight grin and soon widened into a dazzling smile he’d seen once before when they’d first met. Though he figured she’d trained for such moments, his heart thumped against his chest just as it had done at the river. If he’d been one of the judges in December, he’d have given her the title—no question.
NATALIE DASHED TO THE BATHROOM AND SPLASHED HER PUFFY EYES WITH cold water. She pressed a wet washcloth to her hot cheeks. What was she thinking? To confide in their dinner guest, a man she hardly knew, and to lose control so thoroughly? Her father would be ashamed of her weakness. She turned off the faucet and heard the grandfather clock ticking in the next room joined by the muffled bass from Chelsey’s stereo upstairs. At least the kids hadn’t witnessed the breakdown.
In no mood to deal with her father’s unorganized finances, Natalie ignored the office as she passed by and spotted instead her mother’s buffet cabinet where family pictures and other items were stored. Feeling nostalgic, she opened one of the pine doors and a stack of boxes greeted her, friends from her childhood. She pulled out one of the puzzles with a picture of galloping horses against a stormy sky. Captivated, she was about to lift the lid when a knock sounded from the kitchen screen. Natalie looked up to see Willard’s head peek in through the door.
“I saw your light on. Thought you might like some company.”
The familiar voice comforted her. “Like old times?” She set the puzzle aside.
Willard joined her in the dining room, his tall frame beginning to slump at the neck and shoulders. His gaze wandered to the open door of the buffet cabinet. “Going through your dad’s things?”
Natalie shrugged. “Not if I can talk you into a game of checkers.”
He flashed a smile, his white dentures gleaming. “If I’m not mistaken, I think your dad kept a set in the top drawer over there.” A long crooked finger pointed to the coffee table in the living room.
“It’s been a while since you and I played checkers.” Natalie followed him to the table and noticed his limp, which had grown worse this past year. “I was never very good, but Dad loved the game.”
The man chuckled. “He probably got that from his daddy. He and I used to play in Nam. That’s how we knew each other so well. Your grandpa insisted we play every evening after chow. Said it reminded him of home. Even though I was his sergeant, I enjoyed listening to his tales, like the night he and his friends roped a young cow in the middle of a pasture, only his mount spooked and dragged the pesky heifer a couple miles before they shut the horse down.” His eyes glistened at the memory as he eased himself onto the worn couch.
Natalie didn’t remember much about her grandpa, but she always enjoyed Willard’s narratives about the past. His calm, soothing voice comforted her soul, especially now. “Dad told that story a hundred times while I was growing up.” She knelt beside the coffee table and began lining up the black pieces on the checkerboard. “Want some popcorn or something to drink?”
Willard leaned against the sofa and rested his hands on his stomach. “I don’t suppose you have any soda pop in your refrigerator?”
“Orange Crush, right?” At his nod, Natalie held back her amusement and eased herself from the floor. As she walked past, she patted his spongy gray hair, glad for his company. “I’ll see what I can find.”
Minutes later, she returned with two bottles of root bee
r. “Sorry, we didn’t have any orange soda, but hopefully, this will do.” She handed Willard the cold drink, deciding to broach the discussion she’d had with her father’s attorney. “Did Dad ever mention his dislike for banks?”
Willard latched onto the bottle and scooted to the edge of his seat. “I remember him cussing when a bank teller charged him for a box of checks. He was right mad about that. Guess you could say he had a genuine dislike for them.”
“What about his money? He never gambled, did he?” Natalie practically choked out the words.
His bushy eyebrows arched. “What kind of nonsense are you talking, girl?”
Natalie forced a smile. How much could she reveal without casting an unpleasant light on their situation? She’d rather eat dirt than confess they barely had enough money to make it through the summer. “I visited with Dad’s lawyer the other day. He told me there were no savings accounts in Dad’s records.”
“Your dad never lacked for money. He inherited this ranch debt-free when your grandfather died.”
“Mr. Thompson suggested Dad might have gambled the money or given it away—like to a charity. I’d hoped he might have mentioned something to you.”
Willard ducked his chin and frowned. “You know your dad. He wasn’t one to throw away money. I can’t imagine him doing such a fool thing.”
Natalie couldn’t imagine it either. But then she hadn’t been aware of his dabbling in poetry. “Did you know he wrote poems for Chelsey and Dillon?”
“Is that so?”
“According to Mr. Thompson, he wrote one for each of them,” she said, hiding the resentment that he’d given them such a personal gift of love. Natalie had set the poems aside, thinking it best to show the kids after they’d had time to accept their father’s death. Then again, maybe it was more a matter of putting them out of sight, out of mind.
Willard scratched his bristly chin. “He once gave me a poem called ‘Boots.’ I thought it odd at the time, but you know my fondness for verse.”
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