Seeds of Summer (18 page)

N
ATALIE CAUGHT UP TO
J
ARED, OUT OF BREATH FROM RUNNING.
“W
ERE
you going to leave without saying good-bye?”

Jared scowled an apology. “Sorry, I needed to move on to New Redeemer, and you looked busy.”

She glanced back at Ryan surrounded by a dozen females then returned her attention to Jared. “You wouldn't have disturbed me.”

“I remember a time not so long ago when you didn't care so much for my company.” Jared rubbed his jaw. “In fact, you ordered me off your property. I guess we've come a long way since then.”

“We're friends now.” She grinned and picked a piece of dead grass from his shirt. “I liked what you did with your sermon. I've received a lot of compliments.”

He stared down at his shoes, appearing uncomfortable with her praise. “Maybe now you'll be more inclined to join us on Sundays…to hear more. I'm certain everyone in our congregation would welcome you.”

“Like a family, huh?” Her eyes drifted again to Ryan and his groupies. She'd once considered Ryan part of her family. But those days were gone—she knew that now.

Jared gazed at her unflinching, his brown eyes bright and sincere
behind his glasses. “Yes, like family, we all make mistakes and none of us are perfect.”

Natalie considered his invitation, at war between opening her mind to God's Word or continuing on her own as she'd done most of her life. Unlike the story about Esther, Natalie had never felt God's call, unless of course, he was calling to her through Jared. When she failed to comment, Jared proceeded to his car.

The clinic coordinator came up to her as he drove away. “That pastor of yours did a great job this morning. I wanted to thank him for his time, but I see I've just missed him. Can you give him his check or should I send it in the mail?”

“I can give it to him.” Natalie swept her hair from her face, ready to put it into a ponytail as the morning temperature had already climbed into the nineties. “What do you think of the clinic so far?”

“I think Ryan Frazier turned out to be a particularly helpful draw.” Connie nodded toward the cowboy commentator and his groupies. “I understand the horsemanship classes went especially well this year.”

Natalie frowned as the woman's words confirmed what she already knew to be true.

“The two of you aren't still seeing each other, are you?” When Natalie shook her head, Connie went on. “I had to wonder when he volunteered to fill in for our other clinician. I thought maybe there was another reason he wanted to visit Kansas.”

Natalie pursed her lips. “Ryan has no shortage of females in his life, but I'm not one of them.”

“That's a relief. I understand he took one of the girls to a bar last night and kept her out till the wee hours of the morning.”

Natalie hid her surprise, though her mind reeled at the news. Ryan had gone out after he'd dropped her off at her house?
The nerve.
It made her wonder even more what he was up to—
the snake.
Why had he taken her out if he wasn't interested in getting back with her? And how dare he mess with her clinic participants—or
with her mind. Natalie fanned herself, her body smoldering with hostility.

Connie offered a sympathetic shrug. “It might be good to go over appropriate conduct this afternoon. Remind the girls that with the crown and title comes responsibility and an image to uphold.”

“I'll be sure to add that into my talk this afternoon.” Natalie wondered which girl Ryan had taken to the bar.

“Raising teenagers is one of the toughest jobs a mother can have. Believe me, I know. I have three of them.” Connie smiled with affection. “What you're doing for your brother and sister goes way beyond generous. Not many young women would strap themselves to such an obligation. I applaud your efforts.”

Natalie shook off the compliment, unworthy of such admiration, especially when her mind rebelled at the decision every chance it got. “I really had no choice in the matter.”

“Everyone has a choice.” Connie tore a check from her bankbook and handed it to Natalie, then ripped out another. “Do you want me to pay Ryan or would you like to do the honors?”

Natalie's gaze shifted to Ryan and his dwindling crowd. “I'd be happy to give it to him.” She smiled, thinking part of his payment should include a good kick in the pants. Minutes later, she walked up to Ryan and handed him his check. “Connie wanted me to thank you for coming to our clinic.”

He took the check and whisked the blond bangs from his face. “I'm glad you caught me before I took off. I had fun last night. We should try that again…soon.”

She caught the expectant tone in his voice and a violent shiver raked down her back. “That'll be hard, unless you're planning to pass through Kansas on your way to and from rodeos.”

“What if my prediction for you comes true?”

Natalie scowled. “You're not going to start that again, are you?” Tired of his nonsense, she turned to walk off.

He shuffled beside her. “What if Miss Rodeo America has to step down, and they offered you the position? Would you take it?”

Natalie swallowed the disgust she felt for this man. What had she ever seen in him? “I guess I'll cross that bridge if it comes, but I'm not going to spend any time thinking about it. It's been nice seeing you, Ryan.” She held out her hand and waited for the familiar rush of longing to hit as he took her hand. Only it didn't.

A
FTER THE SERVICE AT
N
EW
R
EDEEMER,
J
ARED ESCAPED TO HIS FAVORITE
fishing hole in an old shirt and jeans. His boot heels dug into the moist slope of the riverbank, the overhead sun hot on his back. A south breeze whipped the new straw hat he'd purchased at the local farm store, and he smiled, wondering if Natalie would approve. Upon reaching the gravel bar, he located a shady spot to prepare his line. Earlier that week, he'd concocted some of Dillon's secret hotdog bait and although it had only fermented a short time, he planned to see if it would work for him today.

The tall cottonwoods swayed high above, their leaves whispering in the wind as though they had hundreds of stories to tell. Although Jared enjoyed the physical activity of his Sunday outings, he found himself most looking forward to the peaceful quiet the river afforded—a place to sit and think or listen without human interference.

Beyond him, bullfrogs croaked and waited at the edge of the muddy current as it gushed and gurgled over rocks and fallen limbs. Jared attached some of the stink bait to his hook, his thoughts drifting to Natalie and her family. Of how he'd met Dillon right here only a month ago, alone and troubled, and how the boy searched
him out the night before, still troubled and running. Looking for something stable, someone he could depend on.

Jared cast his line into the deepwater bend, hoping a big cat might be hiding in the underwater debris, despite the afternoon hour. All boys needed a role model—someone to look up to for guidance and support. He supposed in a way, he'd been a lot like Dillon. His own father had been very active and busy with his pastoral duties, leaving Jared alone and searching most of his childhood. And just as Dillon had found Jared, Jared had marked his granddad as his champion, his teacher, his friend.

A tree branch floated down the river, bobbing and spinning as it crossed over the riffles. Jared drew in his line, and the click of his reel took him back to his last fishing trip with his granddad over ten years ago.

“Where you going to college, boy?” Granddad sat on an overturned bucket as they fished side-by-side on the wide waters of the Republican River near Concordia, Kansas.

A senior in high school, Jared had his whole life ahead of him
—
and wanted only one thing. “I'm not going to college.”

The old man's mouth wobbled in surprise. “Why not?”

Jared concentrated on the rippling water. “You didn't go to college. I'm going to farm, like you.” Deep inside, Jared hoped for an invitation, that his granddad would ask for his help. They could be partners. “You could hire me to work on your farm.” He smiled then, satisfied that he knew what he wanted in life.

His granddad shook his head. “You gotta want more than that, boy. Farming's hard work, and there's no guarantees. You might lose everything to drought or flood. And if those things don't get you, the market will. I don't want those worries for you, boy.”

Jared knew the arguments, he'd heard them before. But in his mind, it didn't matter. “The only guarantee we have in life is that we'll die. I love the land, just like you. I can't see myself doing anything else.”

“You ought to go into the ministry, like your dad. I know that's what he wants for you.”

“See these calluses?” Jared held out the palms of his hands. “These are a working man's hands. I don't want to sit behind a desk all day.” The thought of being in an office and wearing a suit made him nearly hyperventilate.

The old man chuckled. “You don't know what God has in mind for you. He might want you to use those callused hands as a missionary in some foreign country.”

Jared laughed at that and cast his line into the water, fully expecting to spend many more summer days fishing with the man who'd been everything to him. He hadn't counted on his granddad getting sick with cancer and giving the farm to his uncle
—
the eldest son, ripping Jared's future right out from under his feet.

The tree branch drifted to the edge of the river and became lodged in the muddy silt, its forward motion blocked just like Jared's plans had been all those years ago. He flexed his fingers and examined the palms of his hands, noting how calluses had begun to form there again.

A
FTER LUNCH,
N
ATALIE AND
J
ENNY HELPED THE GIRLS WITH MODELING
and appearance, spending time on makeup, hairstyle, and clothing selections. During the last portion of the clinic, they concentrated on the personality aspects of competition and covered impromptu questions, interviews, and speeches.

“You can never be too prepared,” Natalie stated to the group of girls seated in front of her, ranging in ages from eleven to twenty-one. She'd seen many contestants who appeared sure and confident, but when it came time for the interview, they didn't know their facts and had floundered with the questions. “This afternoon, we're going to review possible questions that might be asked in competition. Go over these papers until you can answer without a hint of
hesitation. Study your current events and learn everything there is to know about the sport of rodeo from brand names and sponsors, to the names of judges, stock contractors, announcers, and clowns—if there is a link to rodeo, you better be aware of it.”

The girls divided into two age groups, and for the next hour, Natalie and Jenny questioned attendees and listened to speeches. When the clinic ended, Natalie was exhausted.

“I guess this means so long.” She gave Jenny a hug, knowing the challenges that awaited the young queen. “If there's anything I can do to help you prepare for Vegas, I'm only a phone call away.”

“You're not getting off that easy.” Connie placed her hands on her hips in a stance of authority. “We expect you to join us at the Dodge City competition, and we'd like your help at another clinic we're having this fall. Just because you have a ranch and a few extra responsibilities doesn't mean you can wipe your hands of us,” she teased.

“I'd like that.” Natalie's heart swelled at knowing she was still needed. It made facing her unknown future a bit easier to swallow.

“And of course I'll accept any help you're willing to offer for the pageant in December. I know that's more than six months away, but I'm already so nervous, I can hardly stand it.” Jenny laughed, but Natalie knew her words to be true.

The queen clinic officially over, they said their good-byes, and Natalie hauled her things to the truck. When she pulled out of the fairgrounds, her dad's words echoed in her ears.

It's time to get back to the real world.

She rested her elbow on the window frame of her truck, the warm air whipping her hair about her face as she drove down the gravel road to her home. The weekend had given her a taste of old times, watching the young girls prepare for competition and learn the skills necessary to do well. And although her dinner date with Ryan hadn't turned out as expected, she'd walked away from him with a smile—something she'd never thought possible.

She knew it was mostly due to Jared.

Natalie couldn't help but compare the two men. Ryan had been born into the rodeo world, and Jared was a stranger to it. Jared was thoughtful, caring, and honest. He would never hurt Natalie. This she knew as certain as rain. She also knew that Jared would never use her. He'd never take advantage of her or compromise her reputation, something Ryan wouldn't think twice about, only interested in serving his own needs.

Maybe Jared was right. Perhaps God wasn't ignoring her. Maybe like Esther, he did have a plan for her life—one that she couldn't see right now, but in the future would be clear and visible.

A mile past Coover's Bridge, she noted a white vehicle parked on the side of the road. Jared's Toyota. Realizing he must be fishing, Natalie pulled behind his car and shut off the engine. She debated whether to stop and visit, thinking of all the work waiting for her on the ranch. Then she remembered the check in her pocket.

She stepped from the truck and looked down the marshy bank, reminded of the first time she'd set eyes on the preacher. Once again, he stood at the river's edge, with an aluminum pole in his hand—and a cowboy hat on his head.

“Catching anything?” She called out to him and made her way through the brush and rocks.

Jared waved back. “What are you doing here? Is your clinic over?”

“It is.” She continued down the slope until she stood at his side. “What about you? Are you catching supper?”

“Trying to, but not having much success.”

“If Dillon finds out you were here, he'll be so jealous. He loves fishing on this river.”

“Well, don't tell him I borrowed his bait recipe—because it's not working.” He squatted to retrieve another piece of the smelly meat from a jar. “Care to join me? I have another pole in my car.”

“No thank you.” She scrunched her nose at the stench. “Fishing is Dillon's passion, not mine.”

His eyes crinkled in amusement. “Did the clinic go well?”

“I think so.”

“And what about Ryan?” He searched the bank, as though anticipating the man to walk over the horizon at any minute. “Is he still around?”

Natalie cleared her throat, embarrassed to have fallen for Ryan's act even once and glad she hadn't made the mistake twice. She remembered what Jared had said about Libby and applied it to Ryan. “You were right. A leopard doesn't change his spots.”

“I'm sorry to hear that.” Jared's mouth tilted in concern as he peered at her beneath his hat. “But maybe you're better off without him?”

Feeling suddenly self-conscious, she pulled the check from her jean pocket. “Connie wanted me to give you this. She wanted you to know how much she appreciated your service. We all did.”

Jared indicated his filthy hands. “Could you put it in my shirt pocket?”

Natalie tucked the folded check into Jared's shirt, aware of the taut muscles beneath the thin cotton material. She caught herself admiring the man's rugged appearance, enhanced by the hat he wore and the dark shadow on his face. Realizing where her thoughts had strayed, her mind scurried to something safe.

Work—and a job that needed done.

“I know you only agreed to help with the haying, but I wondered if you might have time this week to give me a hand with our windmills.” She'd been putting off this particular task for weeks and for good reason. “Dad always took care of the maintenance before…I'm not sure I can handle it myself.” The mere thought of climbing the thirty-foot towers caused her palms to sweat.

Jared cast his line into the middle of the river seemingly unaware of her turmoil. “Would tomorrow work for you?”

Natalie nodded, determined to overcome her weakness despite the dread building in her stomach.