The High Calling (3 page)

“Come on, you’ve got to give me a chance. How about we go out tonight? Just get a meal and talk about old times.”

Kat hesitated, then smiled. “All right, Brodie. That would be nice.”

****

“I enjoyed the movie,” Kat said as Brodie brought the car to a stop in front of the Royal Hotel. “Good night.”

“Wait a minute! Don’t say good-night yet.”

Kat felt his hand on her arm and smiled at him. “I think
it’s time we call it a night. Surely there couldn’t be anything else left to say.”

It had indeed been a full night. Brodie had taken her to see the latest Humphrey Bogart film that everyone had been talking about. After the movie, they had driven around in the car Brodie had borrowed from his mechanic and talked about old times. Brodie had apologized several times throughout the evening for not recognizing Kat at first, but he had explained that she had undergone quite a transformation from her younger years.

Brodie, four years older than Kat, had grown up on a farm not far from the Winslows. After graduating from high school, he had left for the oil fields of Oklahoma, which broke the hearts of several young women. He took flying lessons while he worked in the oil industry and eventually became a crop duster. That led to an interest in being a stunt pilot, and before long he was performing all over the States.

He leaned back against the seat. “You know, I’ve thought so many times about the good times we had—you and Josh and Clint and me.”

“Those were good days. I had the worst crush on you that anybody could ever imagine.”

“I never knew it.”

“Why, it would have been strange if you had. But I got over it. Girls get over things like that.”

“You remember the time we went coon huntin’, the four of us, and you fell in the river? I had to pull you out.”

“Yes. I nearly froze to death. That must have been in the middle of winter.”

The two recalled other adventures they’d had along the river, and then Brodie changed the subject. “You’ve never married, huh?”

“No. Not yet. I’m only twenty, remember?” she teased.

“Ever been engaged?”

“No. Not that either.”

“Why is that? I would think you’d have lots of guys interested in you.”

Kat thought for a moment. She was always truthful, speaking exactly what she thought. “You were the only one I ever loved.”

Her honesty shook Brodie, and he reached out and touched her cheek. “I never knew that.”

“Why, I was fourteen with a bad complexion—and you were the star quarterback of the football team. Oh, how I hated all those girls you went with!”

He suddenly reached out and pulled her toward him. She did not resist, but after a brief kiss, she pushed him back. He tried to kiss her again, but she said quickly, “I’m not Roxy. You should know that, Brodie.”

He released her at once. “I don’t know you. All I can think of is that little girl, that scrawny kid. But she’s gone and here you are.” He studied her for a moment and then asked, “What are you going to do with yourself? What’s your dream?”

“What’s yours?”

“I asked you first.”

“I want to do whatever God has planned for me.”

He suddenly felt uncomfortable. “Well, that’s a right good dream.”

“What about you, Brodie?”

“Guess I just want to be the best flier in the whole world.”

“But that won’t last. Things like that have to end. What then?”

He shook his head. “I never think that far ahead.”

“I’ve got to go in.” Kat smiled and squeezed his shoulder. “I had a nice time tonight.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“You’d better find Roxy. You’ll have no luck with me.”

“Roxy? Not a chance.” He got out quickly and walked her to the door. She smiled at him and then went into the hotel without saying more. As Brodie walked back to the car, he was surprised at his own feelings. He had known many
women, but he’d never met one like her before.
She sure did grow up nice!

CHAPTER TWO

State Fair

As Kat led Hercules through the wide doors that opened into the arena, she wanted to turn and run. The feeling was so strong she had to grit her teeth and force herself to look at the stands that surrounded the large arena. She had been here twice before but always as a spectator. Now the colors of the crowd made a kaleidoscope before her that seemed to whirl, and she closed her eyes while taking two steps. When she opened them again she had a grip on herself, and she whispered, “Hercules, don’t let them bother you. They’re just people.”

Indeed, they were just people, but there were a great many of them! The arena was full of thousands of faceless people. Kat focused on the section where her family sat—and there they were, all but her sister Jenny, who was away at medical school. Her father, anchoring one end of the row, was waving frantically at her. Two of the triplets sat between him and Missouri Ann, with the third on her lap as she smiled broadly at Kat. Clint and his wife, Hannah, sat on either side of their two children.

Kat’s only brother, Joshua, sat with his wife, Kefira. He let out a yell that Kat could easily identify—the one he always gave when he was hot on the trail of a coon. The sound rose above the crowd and made the judges turn and frown. Kat was glad they would not know which of the contestants had such fervent support.

Around the ring they went, Hercules and Kat being fourth
in a line of steers led by their owners. She held her head high and smiled at the crowd, although now that the moment had come, she wasn’t sure she had much hope of winning. She had lovingly raised Hercules from the time he was a spindly-legged newborn until now, three years later, he was the epitome of what a Black Angus bull should be. He moved ponderously beside her, muscles waving like water under his black hide. She put her hand on his silky neck and whispered, “Even if we don’t win, you’re still the best, Herc.” She felt the working of the mighty muscles, and Hercules nodded up and down as if he understood what she was saying.

An aide helped the contestants line up, and Kat stood in her place, offering a morsel of apple to Hercules. She glanced up at her family in the stands and then down the line at the judge who had started scrutinizing the animals on her left. Kat looked closely at the three other bulls that came before Hercules, trying to see their faults, but they suddenly seemed to have none.

She studied the face of the judge, a man with sandy hair and a sour expression that looked as though he had just bitten into a lemon. He moved slowly around each animal, running his hand along its back and sides, pulling the mouth open to look at the teeth. Kat had never seen such a thorough judge, and her heart sank. Surely there would be some fault in Hercules that she was too prejudiced to see.

Finally the man stood before her, and Kat met his icy blue eyes. Judges usually smiled and said something encouraging to the contestants concerning their entry, but this man’s lips were sealed up tight. Without a word, he scrutinized Hercules, who ignored him totally. Kat held her breath, preparing for a long and thorough examination, but after the judge had circled Hercules once and run his hand along the animal’s back, he turned and went on to the next entry.

Kat sighed with disappointment.
He didn’t even look closely at him.
She put her hand on Hercules’ neck and fed him another slice of apple. “Don’t you mind, Herc,” she
whispered so faintly no one could hear. “He just doesn’t know what he’s doing.” A keen sense of humiliation kept her from looking up at the stands, and although she was not usually given to tears, they rose involuntarily to her eyes. She blinked hard to get rid of them, still keeping her eyes from the stands. All this time and trouble she had gone to, only to be cast aside without a second look! Kat was surprised to realize she was actually angry—so much so that she almost wanted to strangle that cold-eyed judge!

The time seemed to stretch on forever as the judge moved down the line, and Kat noticed that he spent a considerable amount of time with each entry. She stood stiffly, fighting off the tears and wishing she could simply walk away and escape the focus of all the spectators. Finally she looked up and saw a tall man standing alone at the edge of the ring. His eyes were fastened on her. He had a thin, wedge-shaped face that appeared almost aristocratic. His light brown hair was brushed carefully back from his face and had a slight curl in it, she noticed. Then she saw in his expression what she felt was pity. Unable to bear this, she lowered her head and stared down at the ground in front of her.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she was aware that something was happening. Lifting her head cautiously, she turned to her right and saw that the sour-faced judge was walking down the entire line of animals. She straightened and lifted her head and faced him proudly.
He’s not going to see how hurt I am!
When he was right in front of her, he turned abruptly, and as he did, a smattering of applause broke out, which Kat could not understand. Then the judge’s thin lips turned up at the edges, and he stepped forward.

“You have the finest animal I have ever seen in thirty years of judging, Miss Winslow.”

Kat could not believe her ears, nor did she realize what he was handing to her. She took it almost blindly, then recognized that it was a blue ribbon!

She couldn’t stop the tears then, and she felt the judge
pat her shoulder and say, “Congratulations. You’ve done a fine job.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, blinking back the tears and looking around as the arena filled with applause. She stood quietly while the judge presented the second- and third-place awards but then could wait no longer. She turned and threw her arms around the neck of the huge steer. “Oh, Hercules, you did it!” she cried. “You’re the best in the world!”

Then before she knew it, her father was hugging her, followed by Missouri Ann and the rest of her family. Hannah’s girls were pulling at her, and a photographer blinded her with a flashbulb.

“You’re going to be a pretty sight squalling like that,” Clint whispered. But he slipped his arm around her and handed her a handkerchief. “Wipe your face, and we’ll make them get a better shot.”

Kat wiped her face with the handkerchief, and then she turned and faced the photographer, holding her head high. The photographer waved her family off to one side and took another shot as she beamed into the flash, her hand possessively on Hercules’ muscular neck.

****

Kat clutched the blue ribbon in her left hand and led Hercules out of the ring as her family left to go save a table in the cafeteria. “I’ll be there in just a few minutes,” she called.

As she led the animal into the stall in the cattle building, she heard someone call her name.

“Miss Winslow?”

Kat turned and there stood the tall man with the aristocratic air she had seen in the ring.

“My name is Parker Braden,” he said with a British accent. “I wonder if I . . . I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were distressed.”

Tears had risen to her eyes as she had led Hercules out of the ring—and now she suddenly realized with horror that
they were running down her cheeks. She had a great distaste for women who cried, especially those who cried in public. But somehow the victory after her humiliation had caught her at a bad moment.

“I . . . say, can I do anything?”

“N-no, thank you.” Kat groped for a handkerchief but then remembered it was in her purse, which Missouri Ann was keeping for her. The man reached into the breast pocket of his coat and pulled out a handkerchief. “Perhaps this will help.”

“Thank you.” Kat took the handkerchief, noticing the
B
embroidered in the corner of the fine material. She turned slightly away from the man and wiped her face.

“Please, keep it,” he said as she tried to hand it back. “You may need it later.” He had a very nice smile, and now that she saw him up close, she was impressed with his appearance. He was wearing a snowy white shirt with a suit that was not of the typical cut, pale gray with a razor pleat in the front of the trousers, and an unusual tie.

“I don’t think I’ll need it anymore. I don’t usually cry in public,” she said defensively.

“Well, a victory sometimes does that to us even more than a defeat.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” she said, wondering how an aristocratic, wealthy man like this would know anything about defeat. She suddenly felt the urge to explain her tears. “It’s just that I raised Hercules here from a calf. As a matter of fact, I helped bring him into the world and now—” She suddenly screwed up her face and shook her head. “It just came to me as I was leading him out of the arena . . . that part of my life is over, and I’m afraid he’s going to be . . .”

Mr. Braden seemingly grasped all that Kat was saying at that instant. “I know exactly how you feel,” he told her. “When we lose an animal we love it gets to us, doesn’t it? Last year I lost a dog that I raised from a pup.” He shook his head faintly with wonder in his eyes. “I cried like a baby
for a week. I think there’d be something wrong with us if we didn’t feel like that.”

“Do you really think so?”

“Most certainly! I can’t feel very much for people who don’t love animals. I suppose that’s very prejudiced of me.”

Kat had gained control of herself for the moment. “You’re not from here—from America—are you, Mr. Braden?”

“No, I’m not. Everyone knows that as soon as I open my mouth, of course.” He smiled then and shook his head. “I’m from England. Outside of London, actually. As a matter of fact, I would like to speak with you if you have time.”

“With me?” Kat wondered if this was an attempt to pick her up. He didn’t look like that sort, but one couldn’t tell about foreigners.

“Yes. One reason I’m in this country is to study different breeds of American cattle. My family owns a cattle farm back home. We’re interested in acquiring some new breeds.” He looked at Hercules and said, “I know practically nothing about the Black Angus, but they are such beautiful animals. I thought you might be willing to tell me a little about the breed.”

“Why, I’d be glad to.”