Called to Love. Arlene James
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through her at the thought, but she instantly squelched it.
The very last thing she needed now was to get involved in any way with a man, especially one this attractive.
God had just shown her where her future lay, and she would be true to her calling, no matter what.
Gil hung his elbows on the top plank of the sagging corral fence. “Yes, ma’am,” he said, “I can train that filly, and I can straighten up this old fence, too, but you’ll have to be patient.”
“They keeping you busy out at the Colby Ranch?” Sally Locke asked idly, shading her hazel eyes against the afternoon sun.
Gil smiled. “Let’s just say I’ve got a lot on my plate.”
“Well, I hear you’re the best hand Belle Colby has, so we’ll work out something.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” Gil said, turning his head as a little car puttered up to the end of the drive. Sally, too, looked in that direction and lifted a hand in greeting as the driver parked the coupe next to another battered compact. Gil blinked as the church secretary got out and started toward them.
“Good timing,” Sally called to the pretty redhead. “You need to meet this fellow. He’s going to be doing some work around here.” She glanced at Gil, saying, “My daughter, Cissy.”
“We’ve met,” Cissy said, as Gil faced her, doffing his hat. He couldn’t help a burst of pleasure at seeing her again.
“Miss Cecelia,” he said. “This is a surprise.”
Glancing at her mother, Cissy returned his smile with a frown. “Yes, it is.”
She quickly stepped back, preparing to leave—he couldn’t let her. Straightening, he blurted out, “Guess you’re excited about the job in Mexico.”
He knew instantly that he’d said the wrong thing. Cissy blanched, and Sally made a strangled sound, her freckled face suffused with bright, angry color that made the gray streaks in her reddish-brown hair stand out like tendrils of steam.
“Job?” she choked out. “In Mexico!”
Sighing, Cissy calmly said, “I was going to tell you tonight.”
Gil stumbled over an apology mixed with explanation. “I—I shouldn’t have said anything. I was at the church earlier, you see, and overheard the pastor talking with your daughter.”
“And when was this?” Sally demanded.
Cissy answered for him, “Tuesday.”
“Two days ago,” Sally pointed out bitterly.
Gil began his apology anew. “I’m sorry for—”
Sally spun abruptly toward the house. “I should see to dinner.” She stopped and turned back. “Perhaps you’ll join us, Mr. Valenzuela?”
Surprised, Gil stammered, “I—I wouldn’t want to impose.”
She headed toward the house again, barking, “Take care of it, Cissy.”
“Yes, Mama.” Cissy grimaced apologetically at him. She beseeched Gil in a quiet, husky voice, “Please stay. I would consider it a personal favor.”
How could he refuse? Even if he hadn’t caused the shapely little redhead trouble by speaking out of turn, he couldn’t resist the appeal in her pale, gray-green eyes. Gil nodded his acceptance of the dinner invitation, telling himself that the quickening of his heart owed less to a pretty face than a simple social obligation.
What point could there be in pursuing a woman who was on her way out of the country, after all? Not that he was in the market for romance. He had a ranch to buy. He’d been working his way toward that goal since the day he’d set foot in Grasslands. But one little dinner wouldn’t derail that.
Would it?
“I think Grasslands is a wonderful place to live,” Sally Locke said from her chair at the table in her dated kitchen. “Don’t you agree, Gil?”
While he had wolfed down two huge helpings of a cheesy skillet dinner accompanied by a simple salad, Cissy had pushed her food around on her plate.
“I do.” Gil put down his fork to explain. “The winters are so hard back in South Dakota that when I was a boy, our winter coats had to be approved by the principal every fall. My first winter here, I made up my mind I was staying.”
“But Grasslands has cold weather,” Cissy insisted. “Why, it got down to eighteen degrees one night last winter.”
Gil laughed, his dark eyes crinkling at the outer edges. “In the Dakotas, anything above zero is considered shirt-sleeve weather.”
“Oh, you’re teasing,” Cissy accused.
“Think so? Remind me to tell you about a real Dakota winter sometime.”
“Not much hope of that,” Sally muttered, swinging to her feet. “Chatting across international borders isn’t so easy.”
Gil rose when Sally did. She waved him back down into his chair.
“You keep my daughter company while I get a breath of fresh air,” she said. “Might be her last chance to talk to an eligible man. You are eligible, aren’t you, Gil?”
Cissy blushed as Gil murmured, “Suppose so.”
Tossing her wadded paper napkin onto the table, Sally strode for the back door. Gil slowly sank down onto his chair once more as the screen door slammed behind her.
“I’m sorry about that,” Cissy quietly offered. “Mama is obviously matchmaking in an attempt to keep me from going to Mexico.”
“Oh, that’s all right,” Gil assured her. “My mama didn’t want me to leave South Dakota, either.”
“But here you are,” Cissy said.
“And here I’ll stay,” he contended. “I dreamed about Texas as a boy. My grandfather used to tell me stories of his time here. Made it sound as if Texas was the next thing to Heaven. When I started working with horses and decided I might try my hand at ranching someday, he set aside a little money in his will to get me started. I like to think he knows that I finally made it south of the Red River. I bet he’d have loved Grasslands.”
“I’m sure he would have,” Cissy assured him. “What’s not to love?”
“But you’re bent on leaving,” Gil remarked, “and you’re going to a foreign country.”
“Mexico is closer to Grasslands than South Dakota is,” Cissy pointed out.
“That’s true,” he admitted with a chuckle. “Still, it’s kind of dangerous, isn’t it?”
Cissy shrugged and picked up her plate. “I’ve never felt threatened at the orphanage.” She rose and nodded toward his plate. Instead of handing it over, he got up and carried it to the sink. She followed, saying, “I’ve spent summers at the orphanage for years now. It’s fairly isolated, and no one’s ever been anything but welcoming and kind to me there.”
“That’s good,” he said slowly, putting his plate down and turning his back to the counter to face her. “Don’t you want to get married, though? I mean, if the orphanage is as isolated as you say…”
Cissy stuck the stopper in the sink, saying carefully, “I’d like to get married, but my husband would have to feel called to the mission field just as I do.”
“So you’re saying