Song of Her Heart

by Irene Brand

  Mason had been given his own pony when he was five years old, and he’d ridden behind his father for as long as he could remember. Hardly believing he’d heard her correctly, he asked, “You aren’t afraid of horses, too?”

  His agitation amused Norah, and she could no longer restrain her laughter as she teased, “No. I’m just a city greenhorn.”

  “We could take the truck, but that would spoil the atmosphere,” Mason offered, and Norah sensed his disappointment.

  “If you have some old nag that won’t pitch me off, I’m willing to try. There’s not much to riding, is there?”

  Mason knew he had a problem on his hands, but he said patiently, “There’s a lot to riding, and I can’t teach you riding skills in one evening. But you come prepared to ride, and we’ll manage. It will be a short ride.”

  “Deal! What time do you want me to come?”

  “About six o’clock. We’ll ride to our destination, cook the meal and let the darkness close in around us. You’ll enjoy it.”

  “Well…maybe. At least I’m game to try it. Thanks, Mason.” She hung up.

  Norah turned out the light and stretched fulllength under the blanket. Her heart was singing. She no longer felt afraid, for she knew Mason was as close as the telephone. And God was close, too. Norah turned on her side, facing the opaqueness outside her window, repeating the words of the Psalmist. “‘At night His song shall be with me.”’

  Gradually, Norah realized that the room was flooded with moonlight. From her bed, she saw the moon hovering above the Bar 8, signifying that the God of creation was very near.

  Using the toll-free number Sheila gave her, Norah telephoned the H & H offices the next afternoon. She had a helpful conversation with Jim Hanson, the athletic director of the therapy program, who would be staying at the Bar 8 ranch throughout the summer.

  Jim told her there would be three four-week sessions, the first one to start the first week in June, the last one ending the last week in August, with a week-long break for the Fourth of July. There would be approximately six children each session, with an average of two or more volunteers for each rider.

  In addition to Jim, a nurse, Carolyn Turner, would be a full-time employee. The other workers would be unpaid volunteers, some for the whole summer, others a few weeks at a time. Each session would deal with three different types of disabilities—one for blind children, one for the physically impaired, the other for children with mental disabilities. Two children would be housed together in a room with one adult volunteer.

  “Since this is a pilot program,” Jim explained, “we’ll be learning as we go.”

  Norah would be expected to provide three meals each day for at least twenty people. Breakfast would be served at eight o’clock, lunch at noon and dinner at six o’clock in the evening. Norah’s wages were included in the fee H & H paid Mason for use of his ranch facilities and horses. But the organization would issue vouchers for the groceries, pay the utilities and hire Sheila to help in the kitchen and dining room. The children would go home on weekends, leaving Friday afternoon and returning on Monday morning.

  “But as I mentioned,” Jim said, “this is a new undertaking for all of us, so I hope you can adapt your schedule as we find it necessary.”

  “I’ll do my best,” Norah said, “but I’ve never cooked for so many people over an extended period. The first weeks will be experimental for me, too.”

  “I’m sure we’ll get along fine,” Jim said. “Hopefully, the program will be so successful that the project will be funded for many years to come. Our long-range goal is to expand the program to include adults with disabilities, too.”

  “Whew!” Norah said aloud when she finished the conversation. It sounded like a busy summer, but she welcomed the tight schedule. Providing three meals each day, starting to cook before six o’clock and finishing only in time to go to bed and start the same schedule over again, would hopefully get her mind off Mason.

  Thoughts of Mason had a tendency to disrupt the work she’d come to Nebraska to do. When she tried to plan menus for the H & H children, she found herself staring into space thinking of Mason. His winning smile, his compassionate nature and his captivating presence had dominated her dreams and trespassed on her daytime hours. It had to stop!

  Determined to exert more self-control, Norah carried her box of recipe books into the kitchen and placed them on a convenient shelf near the stove. She needed to plan and buy supplies for at least two weeks. It wouldn’t be easy cooking meals to suit both children and adults. Jim had told her that, for this first session, they had chosen children without dietary limitations so she wouldn’t need to be concerned about providing special dishes. Although the first four weeks would tend to be trial and error, once she had those meals planned, she could use the same menus for the next two sessions.

  As she spent the afternoon planning, she tried to remember the foods her siblings liked when they were younger. Thinking about them saddened her. Not only had she lost her father and disabled brother, she’d lost the others, too.

  While her father lived, she’d gone overboard to maintain harmony in the family. Even when she believed her siblings were imposing on her, she took it with a smile because she didn’t want to disturb her father. But now she was alienated from her remaining family.

  The family property had been willed to her without any strings, but had she been wrong to put the home up for sale? Had Sam been right when he’d told her that their father had intended for her to keep it intact for the family to use? If that was so, why hadn’t her father told her that, or at least provided sufficient funds for its upkeep?

  She’d received a monthly compensation from her father for the housekeeping duties, but upon his death, that income had ceased. The house was old and large, and in constant need of repairs. If she kept the property, her meager savings would soon be depleted.

  Besides, she wanted a new life. If she couldn’t become an overseas missionary at this late date, she hoped for a profession of some kind rather than spending her senior years as an unpaid baby-sitter for her nieces and nephews.

  It disturbed Norah that she hadn’t apologized to her brother and sisters, but how could she when she didn’t believe she had been unfair to them? She did remember that Jesus had told His followers if anyone had been treated unjustly, the one who had been wronged should initiate reconciliation. Perhaps she would do that, but her emotional pain was too raw right now to make the first move.

  But she felt completely cut off from her previous life. Was that the reason she’d taken to Mason so quickly? Maybe at the end of the summer, she would contact her siblings and ask forgiveness, but in the meantime, she would spend her time ministering to children whose problems were certainly worse than hers. She prayed that in helping others, she would also find healing.

  By five o’clock, she laid her books and schedules aside and prepared for her get-together with Mason. She’d noticed that the temperature dropped quickly as soon as the sun set, so she put on a heavy pair of jeans, and a blouse with a sweatshirt over it. She wore woolen socks under a pair of leather boots.

  She debated over what to wear on her head, but finally decided on a narrow-brimmed hat that she’d worn when she worked in the flower gardens. She tied a scarf around her neck, which might come in handy if the wind was too strong to wear the hat. With a lot of anticipation, and some apprehension, she set out for the Flying K ranch.

  Chapter Six

  Mason wasn’t in sight when Norah reached the Flying K, but a burro was tied to the hitching post in front of the house. A metal tripod, gridiron and bulging saddlebags were secured to the burro’s harness. Deciding Mason must be preparing for their outing, Norah sat on the porch and enjoyed the song of the meadowlark that warbled lustily from his perch on a fence post. A grayish-brown prairie hen led her small brood of chicks across the yard, teaching them by example how to feed on the insects and plants.

  Mason was obviously a good steward of his property, for the buil
dings were painted, the ground was free of debris and the fences were intact and sturdy. The fence around the corral interested Norah, for on each post, there was a worn-out pair of cowboy boots. Buster, the bull, grazed inside the corral, and once he looked toward her and bawled.

  “Don’t bawl at me,” she said in mock severity. “I’m still mad at you for causing me to wreck my car.”

  Chewing on a juicy morsel of grass, Buster bawled again, long and loud, and Norah’s mouth curved into a smile. She would never forget Buster’s welcome to the Flying K.

  Soon Mason emerged from the barn, leading two saddled horses, and Norah eyed the animals warily as he approached.

  “Ready?” he said, a wide smile breaking across his bearded face. He tugged on Norah’s hand, encouraging her off the porch.

  “I’m not sure,” Norah said uneasily.

  Mason told her that her mount would be the small palomino with a golden coat and silvery mane and tail. He would ride the brownish quarter horse. As Mason spoke fondly of the two horses, and detailed their capabilities, Norah reached out a tentative hand and stroked the palomino’s flanks.

  “You have nothing to be afraid of,” Mason promised her. “I’ve been weeding out my tamest mounts and taking them to the Bar 8, and following instructions from the H & H, Doug has been exercising them for the children when they come. But the palomino is gentle, too.”

  “I’ve learned all of my ranch lore from Wild West movies,” Norah said nervously, “where the horses all seem to be bronco-busting animals. And where city slickers are sometimes given a bucking horse to test their mettle.” She turned solemn blue eyes toward Mason.

  “I wouldn’t put you on an animal like that,” Mason assured her. He was eager to introduce Norah to his way of life in a manner that would make her love it as much as he did.

  Recognizing his sincerity, Norah touched his forearm. “I know you wouldn’t, Mason. I was joking with you. I’m a slow learner, but be patient with me, and I’ll soon catch on.”

  Mason assessed her clothes. “It might have been wise for you to bring a coat, but I have a couple of blankets on the burro if it cools down.”

  He wore a blue flannel shirt, heavy blue jeans and a suede vest, looking every bit the cowboy of a century ago.

  Mason motioned her toward the horses, and put his hand on the mane of the palomino. “This is Daisy,” he said. “If you like her, she can be your personal mount while you’re here.”

  When the mare turned soulful, liquid eyes in her direction, Norah felt as if she’d made a new friend.

  Mason lifted the bridle. “This serves the same purpose as the steering wheel on your car. The metal part of the bridle, called a bit, fits in the horse’s mouth. The reins, these long, narrow leather strips, are attached to the bit. If you want the horse to turn left, you gently pull the reins in that direction, and so on. But tonight, don’t be concerned about that. Just concentrate on staying on the horse. Daisy will follow me.”

  Norah touched Daisy’s long nose, and the mare tried to nuzzle her fingers.

  “She likes apples,” Mason said. He took a red apple from his pocket and extended it toward Daisy. She mouthed the apple and started chewing.

  “Always mount a horse from the left side,” Mason continued, illustrating as he talked. “Take the reins and the horse’s mane in your left hand and put your left foot in the stirrup.” He indicated a wooden, flat-bottomed ring. “With your right hand grab the back of the saddle. Spring up, swing your right leg over the horse’s rump and switch your right hand to the pommel of the saddle here in the center. Sit easily in the saddle and put your right foot in the stirrup.”

  He mounted the horse with a swift, graceful movement. The blood rushed to Norah’s face, and she gasped in admiration of his powerful body.

  Dismounting, Mason looked at Norah quickly, apparently thinking his instructions had caused her confusion, for he hastily said, “It takes practice to give you self-confidence, so I’ll help you this time. Eventually, horseback riding becomes as natural as breathing, and you won’t even think about what you’re doing. Lift your left foot to the stirrup, and I’ll boost you into the saddle. Ready?”

  It seemed like a long stretch to the stirrup, but when she managed to reach it, Mason put his hands around her waist and smoothly lifted her into the saddle. His touch was electrifying! The warmth of his hands seemed to sear her flesh through the heavy layers of clothing. She wished she wasn’t so sensitive to Mason’s masculine appeal. She excused her reaction by reasoning that she hadn’t been exposed to much male company, especially to a man as vibrant as Mason.

  She tucked her foot into the other stirrup, as if she’d been riding horses all of her life. But when she picked up the reins, and looked down at Mason, it seemed a long way to the ground.

  Mason watched her with something akin to awe. How could she have gladdened his heart so much in a few days? If she’d perked up his life already, what effect would she have on him after three months of seeing her almost every day? But regardless of the consequences, he couldn’t remember when he’d ever anticipated a summer with more gladness of heart.

  Mason checked the stirrups to be sure they were adjusted for Norah’s legs. “Are you comfortable?”

  “Not very,” she said with a laugh, “but it’s more emotional than physical.”

  “Ride beside me, and if you have any problem, say so.”

  He hooked the leading string of the burro to his saddle and mounted his horse with agility and ease.

  Again, Norah admired his graceful movements, wondering if she’d ever be that confident on a horse.

  “Hold your reins loosely and let Daisy take care of you,” he instructed. “Don’t sit so rigid. Relax, and let your body move with the horse. Before your duties start with H & H, I’ll teach you how to saddle Daisy and how to care for her.”

  “Seems like there’s a lot to horseback riding,” Norah said ruefully.

  “If you ride every day, you’ll soon learn.”

  “But I won’t have time to ride every day.” As the horses moved forward, she told him what she’d learned from the Omaha office. “I’ve already started preparations.”

  The wind ruffled the manes of the horses, and Norah’s hat blew off before they were out of sight of the ranch buildings. Mason jumped off his horse to retrieve the hat. He sprinted after it, but when he stooped to pick it up, a stronger gust of wind boosted it several yards beyond him. When it landed in a small lake, Norah called, “Don’t bother with it. It’s an old hat.”

  Thankful she’d thought to bring the scarf, Norah wound it around her head.

  “That wasn’t much of a hat for a range woman anyway,” Mason said when he was in the saddle again.

  “Is the wind always like this?” she asked.

  “No. Most of the time it’s a lot stronger.”

  Norah glanced at him, and she knew he wasn’t joking. She’d need to buy a hat that tied under the chin like the one Mason wore.

  They rode through waving grass that brushed the horses’ bellies. On the half-hour ride, Norah enjoyed seeing the prairie at close range. The velocity of the wind blew the grass in surging green waves, and it was easy to believe that they were riding on the ocean. She understood why Mason preferred to ride a horse, for this was an easier way to enjoy the serenity of the grasslands than by riding in a vehicle.

  The wind swept the words from her mouth as she called, “Why is this area called the Sand Hills?”

  “In prehistoric times, the smooth contours of the prairie were made by sand transported here by the wind. Then grasses took root. We don’t get much rainfall, but there are vast deposits of water in the porous rocks beneath the surface.”

  He motioned to a water tank, with a windmill towering over it. “We have lots of water if we dig for it, and with so much wind, we have a constant supply of water for our cattle.”

  Mason had been watching Norah closely, and near the end of the ride, he asked, “Getting tired?”

&n
bsp; “My legs are kinda numb, and my back hurts.”

  “You’re sitting too stiff, but you’ll soon get over that. Blend your body into the horse’s movements. It won’t be much longer. We stop at the next coulee, where we’ll be out of sight of the security light at ranch headquarters. I want it to be completely dark when the moon comes up.”

  “I saw the moon from my window at the Bar 8 last night. Living in a city, I didn’t often see the moon. It was a wonderful sight.”

  “Wait until you see the moon rise tonight, and you’ll really be impressed!”

  The coulee was bisected by a small stream, with numerous plum bushes on its banks. A few plum blossoms remained, giving the area a sweet, spicy scent.

  “We’ll have our supper down here where it’s not so windy, but we’ll go to the crest of the hill when we look at the stars. The breeze calms down after dark.”

  “What can I do to help?”

  “Not a thing. You’re my guest tonight.” He loosened the horses’ reins and staked them several yards from their campsite. Norah sat on the ground and watched in admiration as Mason prepared their meal. He built two fires. Over one, he set a tripod, opened a large can of baked beans, poured them into a smoke-covered pot and hung it over the flames.

  He set a gridiron over the second fire, on which he arranged two thin-sliced steaks and placed a coffeepot directly in the coals.

  “Do you cook like this often?”

  “No, but my friends and I camp out when we go on hunting and fishing trips. It’s a satisfying feeling to catch a large trout and have it frying in the pan in less than an hour. I suppose you don’t fish, either?”

  She shook her head negatively, but her eyes glowed with mirth. “Sorry I’m such a disappointment to you. Remember, I only gave you my credentials as a cook. I can cook and do fine needlework. Not much else.”

  “Oh, that’s okay,” he hastened to assure her. “I wanted to find out how I can entertain you this summer. Since you have weekends off, I want to show you around this part of the country.”