Seeds of Summer

by Deborah Vogts

  Natalie shot her brother a warning glance. She could imagine Dillon teasing Chelsey, causing the situation to go from bad to worse. “You’d best keep your mouth quiet. I don’t need any extra trouble, understand?”

  His bouncing stopped as he set his arms in front of his chest and slouched in his seat. Natalie eased from behind the steering wheel and met her sister as she transferred her backpack from Jared’s car to the truck. Chelsey brushed past with a sneer.

  “How’d it go today?” Natalie walked up to Jared, fully aware of the man’s black attire. “I mean, other than my failure to pick up my sister?”

  He held a water bottle in one hand and twisted the cap with the other. “You’re here now, so don’t worry about it.”

  Natalie chided herself for putting the preacher in such an awkward position, fully aware of the scrutiny he might suffer for offering a young girl a ride home. “It won’t happen again, I assure you.”

  His brows furrowed. “I’m more concerned about you. You seem stressed.”

  She leaned against his car. Stress didn’t come close to describing what she felt inside. But how could she unload on this man again?

  “Need a friend to talk to?” His voice balm to her ears, Natalie didn’t require further inducement.

  “I’m in over my head. It took all day to cover a quarter of the pastures. At this rate, I’ll spend sixty hours a week on ranch work alone, only to come home to dirty laundry and a mailbox full of bills. Then I have to deal with the kids.” She touched her fingers to her throat, desperation threatening to choke her. “I can’t do it. I feel like I’m going to suffocate.”

  “Take a deep breath, Natalie. It’s going to be all right.” With his free hand Jared took hold of her elbow and captured her with his dark eyes, assuring her everything would be okay. “You don’t have to carry this yoke alone. You have friends, and you have God.”

  Natalie’s gaze broke from his embrace and traveled to the church in front of her. Made of limestone like her father’s barn, its foundation was sure to be strong. And though bright and beautiful, the stained glass windows depicted signs of hope and peace, but they also blocked a person from viewing inside. “I hardly see how God is going to take care of the ranch for me. Or handle Chelsey’s problems either, for that matter.”

  He released her elbow. “You don’t like talking about God, do you? And it offends you that I’m a pastor.”

  She stepped away from his car and paced the length of the vehicle. “You could have mentioned your occupation the day we met.”

  “You’re right, I should have told you. I have to wonder though, if you would have given me the time of day if I’d admitted I was a pastor. What happened in your life to turn you so against religion?”

  Natalie gritted her teeth. “Nothing happened. Maybe that’s my problem.”

  Unable to face Jared, she concentrated on a pair of bluebirds fluttering in and out of a nearby birdhouse. The man’s eyes bore into her, all sympathetic and kind, as though she needed his help and wouldn’t survive without it.

  “I’ve been to church.” The words flew from her mouth. “I’ve watched people at altar calls who gave their lives to Jesus, who swore it made a difference…but honestly, I don’t get it.”

  “You mean you don’t want to get it.” Jared swallowed the last of his water, then squeezed the empty bottle until it crackled between his fingers. “God calls on those who listen. I’d love to help you, Natalie, but you have to want the help. It’s like those bluebirds over there. Sometimes you have to completely stop what you’re doing in order to hear their song.”

  She watched him saunter back to the church with his head down and his hands in his pockets. Who did he think he was to speak to her that way? And what did he expect? For her to break out in song and admit all her faults and weaknesses, concede everything she’d ever done wrong and beg for God’s help and forgiveness? Well, Jared Logan could wait for hell to freeze over as far as she was concerned. She’d made it this far in life without anyone’s help, she’d manage her current troubles too—and would be all the wiser for it.

  FIFTEEN

  “I HEARD YOU HAD SOME EXCITEMENT HERE WEDNESDAY NIGHT.” GEORGE Hobart’s thick frame hovered over Jared’s desk early Saturday morning.

  Jared glanced at the three grim-faced elders, prepared to give account for the recent problems with the youth, though he could think of a hundred things he’d rather be doing this weekend.

  Bob Douglas cleared his throat and took a seat on the couch. “We hated to call a meeting, but after talking to Mr. Sanders, we thought it best to get your version.”

  “I assure you I handled the problem with discretion.” Jared loathed his need for explanation. “As soon as I learned of the alcohol, I took the girls to my office—away from the other kids.”

  “Were the others aware the girls had been drinking?”

  Jared rubbed his chin. “According to Mrs. Trevor there was a lot of whispering.”

  “What about this other girl with Sarah Sanders?” George asked, inches from Jared’s face. “What do you know about her?”

  “Sarah brought a friend to the meeting—Chelsey Adams. I’m sure you’ve heard how Chelsey recently lost her father in a tractor accident. I met Chelsey’s family two weeks ago.”

  “Adams? That’s the rodeo queen gal, isn’t it?” Carl spoke up from the other side of the room.

  Jared leaned back in his chair. “Chelsey’s sister. The three of them have no family, no church home. Considering their troubles, I thought it best to handle the matter quietly.”

  “You were trying to protect the family.” George crossed his arms and nodded his approval to the other men.

  “I’ve visited them a couple of times,” Jared continued. “I believe it’s our responsibility to help them if we can.”

  “Mrs. Sanders is none too happy about your form of discipline.” Bob shifted on the couch. “She thinks Sarah got pulled into this mess and believes you’re trying to make an example of her daughter by punishing her the same as the Adams’ girl.”

  Jared exhaled slowly. “Sarah and Chelsey were guilty of the same act, no matter whose idea it was to take that first drink. The Trevors thought a little mission work might help them focus on things more meaningful.”

  “You’re not being too hard on Sarah, considering her good reputation?” Carl frowned.

  “She should have thought about her reputation before she came to a youth meeting half-tanked.” Jared went on to explain his plans for involving the girls in Vacation Bible School. After ten more minutes of questions and answers, the three men left, seemingly satisfied.

  Jared drummed his fingers on the desk and stared out the window at the blue sky. The spring air called to him, a perfect morning for fishing. He’d already gone over his sermon notes, and now that his elders’ meeting was finished, he had a mind to gather his tackle and head for the river. Then he remembered Natalie’s plan to brand cattle today. Guilt settled in. He recalled their last conversation here at the church.

  Heated.

  Though he couldn’t deny the woman’s beauty, it took a backseat to her hard-headedness—her desire to conquer the world with her own two hands. He probably shouldn’t have been so hard on her, but the woman seemed to have a negative effect on his logic.

  Should he go fishing or help Natalie and her family vaccinate cattle? Jared glanced at his brown loafers and flexed his fingers, growling at the lingering doubt. He might not remember everything about working cattle and might very well make a fool of himself, but he was still a man in the prime of his life. Despite whatever differences Natalie and he had, she needed the help. Nothing but pride stood in his way.

  NATALIE LIFTED HER HAT TO WIPE HER BROW WITH HER SHIRTSLEEVE, STILL amazed at how many friends and neighbors had shown up to help with the branding. With just enough notice the night before, she and Chelsey prepared breakfast for a crew of twelve who arrived on their doorstep around four that morning. Together they’d served hot biscui
ts and gravy, scrambled eggs, sausage, and bacon to the hungry workers. Afterward, they gathered their horses in the dark corral behind her father’s towering limestone barn.

  Now late morning, Natalie gazed at the many helpers of all ages and size. Bruce and Ray Bennett, a father and son team, had driven over thirty miles to heel and drag calves to the ground crews, as did the Edwards brothers and Charles Knight, a good friend of her father’s. Gene and Lori Carpenter helped Dillon and Chelsey with the branding and vaccinating along with their two kids, who sometimes climbed on the corral fence and watched.

  Others included Willard at the sorting gates, and country veterinarian Mattie McCray, along with her husband, Gil, a former NFL quarterback. John McCray came too, although because of his health, he mostly stood behind and handed people things. Natalie first met the McCrays when training for the Miss Rodeo Kansas competition and remembered well the day Gil proposed to Mattie in the rodeo arena. His declaration of love had caused many hearts to flutter that day, including hers.

  Although overcome with gratitude that these people cared enough to be here, her heart ached from memories of past brandings with her dad. Blue sky above, dust fogging the ground, the sound of calves bawling, and the occasional curse from one who’d missed his roping target. So much the same, yet so many changes. She waited for Gil to flank the next calf to the dirt, then pressed her knee into its shoulder while Dillon stretched out its back leg to keep it immobile.

  With two ground crews working at the same time, they had fallen into a pattern so efficient and skilled it took less than a minute for them to perform the tasks on each calf. In tandem precision, Mattie plunged the hypodermic needle into the calf’s flesh as the others did their part. The new steer let out a haunting bellow as the stench of burnt hair and hide hung in the air after the branding.

  “How many of our calves have we done?” Dillon asked, his face streaked with dust and sweat.

  “Over half. Why don’t you trade off with Brody and rope for awhile?” Natalie eased from her position and looked up to see another neighbor approach from the far side of the barn. As he neared, she realized it was Jared. Dressed in faded jeans, work boots and a gray T-shirt, he stopped at the corral and waved.

  “What brings you here?” She met him at the gate and studied the shadow of his face beneath the long-rimmed ball cap.

  “You seem surprised.” His brown eyes crinkled into a smile.

  She caught the hint of his musky cologne as it wrestled with the strong odor of cattle, horses and dirt. “After our last visit, I didn’t figure you’d come around again.”

  Amusement stole through the side of his mouth. “What can I say? My conscience wouldn’t allow me to enjoy a peaceful day at the river while you were out here toiling in the sun. What can I do to help?”

  She glanced at his hands and remembered their soft touch. “Have you ever worked cattle?”

  “I helped my granddad every summer.”

  “That’s right…I forgot you were on a quest to relive your childhood.” She opened the green aluminum gate, wondering where to station the man so he’d have the least chance of getting hurt. “Can you rope, or would you feel safer on the ground?”

  “I can ride, although I haven’t done so—”

  “—since you were a boy?” She couldn’t keep the lilt from pervading her voice. “You can ride my horse. Jackson’s used to strangers and will tolerate most anything.”

  She watched Jared study the other cowboys who were roping and dragging calves to the butane branding fire. A hint of panic pulled on his jaw.

  “If you’d rather, you can help with the inoculations.” She indicated the second ground crew beside her own—all working together when necessary.

  “No, this will be fine. Just point me in the right direction, and Jackson and I will start roping us some doggies.”

  Unsure whether he made fun or was serious, Natalie led him to her gray gelding tied outside the holding pen. She watched as he struggled with the reins and stirrups and debated helping him but decided to see if he could hold his own. Minutes later, he rode past Willard at the gate, jerking Jackson’s reins unnecessarily as he fumbled with his coiled lariat. Once he got the rope situated, he swung a loop and it twisted over his head. Tossing it anyway, he missed the calf by a good stretch of the imagination. No surprise, but at least he isn’t tugging on Jackson’s bit any longer.

  When she looked up from her work the next time, Jared was joking with Bruce Bennett, who was showing him how to swing a rope. She shook her head then tackled her next steer to the ground. After two more, she heard cheers from the riders and peered up to see Jared had caught a calf by its hind legs and was dragging it to the branding fire.

  “Looks like he’s getting the hang of it.” Willard came to her side, all smiles.

  “More like beginner’s luck.” She caught the dark strands of hair fluttering in her face and pinned them under her straw cowboy hat.

  “You don’t like the young pastor much, do you?”

  Her eyes darted to Willard’s, her own guarded. “Do you?”

  Willard scrunched his mouth and nodded. “He’s a likeable guy, and he came to help. Hard to fault a man willing to give up his free time, especially when it’s painfully obvious he hasn’t got a clue what he’s doing.” He chuckled and mopped his face with a blue bandana.

  It figured that Willard would like Jared. They both shared a fondness for poetry. Natalie couldn’t help but be wary around the man, with all of his meddling, first with Dillon and now Chelsey. Like he was some kind of lifesaver or something. “Kinda makes you wonder what he wants though, doesn’t it?”

  “He’s here to help, so let him help.” Willard turned his attention back to Jared, and together they assessed the man’s attempt to recoil his rope after his last throw. It hung in a tangled mess at Jackson’s feet. “Then again, in the words of Emerson, ‘the only way to have a friend is to be one.’”

  As the morning wore on, Natalie kept track of Jared’s progress. By the time they’d finished, they’d worked over three hundred calves. Out of those, the young pastor might have roped twelve or thirteen, but every little bit helped, she supposed. She dusted the dirt from her jeans and went to meet him as he dismounted her horse.

  “Guess you got along okay with Jackson.” She watched as Jared’s feet hit the ground, his legs a bit unsteady.

  “I hope I didn’t abuse him too much.” He offered a meek smile and clutched Jackson’s reins.

  Unable to ignore his humble remark, she motioned toward the house where Willard was already grilling hamburgers. “You’re welcome to join us for a late lunch. It’s not much, but it’s our way of saying thanks.”

  Jared straightened to his full height and stretched his arms and shoulders. “Sounds good, I’m starving.”

  She took the reins from his hands, noticing the red sunburn on his neck and forearms where his T-shirt left his skin exposed.

  “I forgot my sun lotion.” He studied his arms and hands, as though guessing her thoughts. “Next time I’ll know to dress like a cowboy.”

  Natalie led Jackson outside the pen and hitched him to a post, all the while fighting back the image of Jared in a long-sleeved western shirt and black felt hat—a color that would suit him quite well as long as it wasn’t part of a clergy outfit.

  SIXTEEN

  JARED FOLLOWED NATALIE TO THE HOUSE AND EXTENDED HIS ELBOWS OVER his head. He couldn’t believe how much his arms ached from throwing a rope the past two hours, not to mention the stiffness that had settled in his lower body. Hovering over a desk all day couldn’t compare to sitting in a saddle. He’d never again mistake cowboying as a passive sport that didn’t require athletic ability.

  After washing in the utility room with the rest of the crew, he joined Willard at the charcoal grill, the afternoon sun beating down on their heads.

  “You did pretty well out there.” Willard flipped a burger, the blazing fire licking up the grease as it hit the coals.

 
A trail of mesquite smoke pursued Jared, and his stomach rumbled. “Not bad for a greenhorn, you mean?” He glanced at his raw calloused hands, and his embarrassment seeped through as he noted the real cowboys visiting beneath the shade trees. No way could he compare to the Edwards’ brothers or to Bruce and Ray Bennett—men who made their living from the Flint Hills. They probably considered him a fool for trying, which shamed him even more. He swallowed the inadequacy that rose from his gut and tried instead to make light of the experience. “It’s a day I’ll not soon forget, that’s for sure.”

  “At least not until your backside stops hurting.” Willard grinned, and his white teeth stood out against his dark, leathery skin. “Sleep is sweet for the man who labors long.” He shot Jared a knowing look and chuckled.

  Dillon rushed up to the two men with a platter in his hand. “Chelsey wants to know when the burgers will be ready.” He eyed the sizzling patties on the grill, looking nearly as famished as Jared felt.

  “Tell her to give me another ten minutes.” Willard jabbed a charcoaled bratwurst with a long handled fork and laid it on the boy’s plate. “Taste this and let me know if it’s cooked enough.”

  “Gee thanks.” Dillon let it cool for a few seconds then picked it up and bit off half, causing his cheeks to bulge. He held out the empty plate. “Got any more?”

  Willard smiled great big. “Guess it passed inspection?”

  Dillon nodded. “Are you guys going to the rodeo tonight?” he asked as soon as he’d swallowed enough to speak.

  Jared shrugged, having heard lots of talk about the event at the café. “I don’t know. I have church in the morning. Are you?” He stared down at the boy’s freckled cheeks, remembering the fun he’d had when his granddad drove him to the local rodeo back home.

  “If I can talk Nat into taking me. I heard Chelsey and her arguing about it earlier, but I don’t think she’s going to let Chelsey go ’cause of all the trouble she’s gotten into lately.” He said this as though it were old news. “What about you, Willard? You going?”