Song of Her Heart. Irene Brand
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settled Nebraska’s Sand Hills were, and she’d arrived at the Flying K ranch before she found a motel. There wasn’t anything else to do but to make the best of an awkward situation.
After living all of her life surrounded by family, what had prompted her to strike out on her own to cook for a rehabilitation organization experimenting in equine therapy for children with special needs? Sam might have been right—maybe she was a foolish old maid.
She hung her jacket on a clothing rack in the corner of the room and took a set of sheets, pillowcases and a blanket from the dresser. The linens felt cold and she laid them on the bed. She’d make the bed later.
A tantalizing scent of cooking beef welcomed her return to the kitchen. “Anything I can do to help?” she offered.
“It’s all ready,” Mason said. “I use the microwave a lot.” The two plates he placed on the wooden table held steaks and baked potatoes. He took a loaf of bread, a carton of butter and a deli container of coleslaw from the refrigerator.
“Think this is enough to hold you until morning?”
“More than enough.”
Mason pulled out a chair for Norah, sat opposite her and bowed his head. “God, thank You for giving Norah a safe journey. We ask Your guidance for this project we’re undertaking. Thanks for the food and bless it to our body’s use. Amen.”
Mason’s prayer, indicating a deep spiritual devotion, set Norah’s mind at ease about the propriety of spending the night in his home. She settled back to enjoy her meal.
“I don’t know why you advertised for a cook,” she said. “This food is delicious.”
“I can’t run a cattle ranch and cook for a bunch of kids. Besides, I’m a meat-and-potatoes guy. Anything else is beyond me. My friends Doug and Sheila Johnson live on my other ranch, and they invite me for a good meal about every week. I eat out whenever I go to town, but the rest of the time I just get by.”
After they’d eaten, refusing Norah’s offer of help, Mason efficiently cleared the table and put their dishes and utensils in the dishwasher.
“The days are still cool, so I like a fire in the evenings.” He turned the lounge chair to face the fireplace, placed another comfortable chair beside it for Norah and held a match to the stacked wood.
“Let’s sit and relax while we get acquainted.”
“That’s a good idea. I’m not an impulsive person, so I even surprised myself when I accepted this job without learning more about what I was getting into.”
Nodding, Mason answered, “I’m sometimes impulsive, too. For instance, I bought a dude ranch, the Bar 8, which adjoins my property, about four years ago. I operated it as a dude ranch for two summers, which was nothing but an aggravation to me. I couldn’t find good help, and I was spending time entertaining city people when I should have been taking care of my cattle.”
One of the logs crumbled and sparks wafted up the chimney. A puff of smoke fanned out into the room, and Mason rearranged the firewood with a poker.
“I’d already listed the property for sale,” Mason continued, “when Horses and Healing, a Christian group of therapists in Omaha, contacted me, asking to use the ranch for a pilot project in equine therapy for children with special needs. They offered a good rent for the summer months, and when I learned my only obligation was to provide horses and a cook for the riders and volunteers, I temporarily took the property off the market. When you answered my ad and said that you’d taken care of your handicapped brother, I figured you’d relate to the children and not find it difficult to work with them.”
“Because of my experience with Billy, I’m very interested in any program designed to make life better for children with special needs. I was at loose ends after my father and brother both died this past winter. When I saw your ad, I felt it was the place for me. I needed a job, and since I’d managed our home after my mother died twenty-five years ago, I felt I was qualified.”
“I’m sure you are, and it’ll be a pleasure to have you here,” Mason said. “If we can make a difference in the lives of a few children, it’ll be worth the work. And we’ll also be serving Jesus, for He said, ‘Whatever you’ve done for one of these little ones, you’ve done to me.”’
“I believe that, too. I’ve been thinking of the summer’s work as a ministry rather than a job.”
If it was too late to realize her goal of serving as an overseas missionary, would this short-term position, helping children with handicaps, compensate for her lost dream? Surely a few months away from familiar surroundings would be an opportunity to assess her future options and decide how to achieve reconciliation with her family.
Chapter Two
Although he’d had a long, hard day, Mason mused before the fire for more than an hour after Norah went to bed. The pleasant murmur of her velvet voice revolved over and over in his mind, a comforting sound that had wiggled its way into the loneliness of his heart. This was the first time a woman had spent the night in his home since his wife had died years ago, a few hours after she’d delivered their stillborn child.
Mason had longed for children, and the possibility of remarriage had often crossed his mind. He’d stopped mourning his young wife long ago, and he would have married if only he’d found a woman to spark his interest. For a few years, he’d considered getting married just so he could have a family, and he’d dated, but he couldn’t bring himself to propose to a woman he didn’t love.
Mason had believed it was important for him to marry because he was an only child and had no children. He often worried about what would happen to the Flying K after his death. He and his father had spent their lives building up this property, and he didn’t want the ranch to pass to someone he didn’t know.
But when he reached forty, Mason had decided that he’d passed the age when he could satisfactorily rear a child, and he’d put the idea of marriage on the back burner. But now Norah had come!
Was her arrival providential? He’d received six answers to his Internet ad, but none of the messages had seemed right until Norah had written. He took her message from his desk and read it again.
Mr. King,
Having cared for my father and siblings, including a disabled brother, for several years, I believe I qualify for the job you mentioned in your ad. I’ve never been employed outside the home, so I can’t supply work references. The pastor of my church can furnish a character recommendation.
She’d given the pastor’s name and e-mail address, but Mason hadn’t contacted the man. He and Norah had corresponded several times by e-mail, and he’d anticipated her arrival with pleasure. Mason had envisioned Norah as a woman in her sixties, who would provide a grandmotherly model for the children in the therapeutic program.
Norah didn’t impress him as the grandmotherly type. He could hardly believe she was forty-two years old. Her straight, silvery-gray hair—no doubt prematurely gray—was neatly arranged over her forehead in a wispy mist, then flowed neatly in soft layers to the base of her neck. Her bright, clear-blue eyes were highlighted by long, black lashes that created a startling contrast as they caressed her wellmodeled ivory face. She was of medium height with a winsome body.
Being a large man, Mason had never been attracted to petite, delicate women who looked like a strong prairie wind would blow them away. Norah Williamson filled the physical qualities he admired in a woman—although not obese, she carried enough flesh that a man could have an armful when he hugged her.
While they’d sat at the table visiting, and later relaxing by the fire, Mason realized that, for the first time, this house seemed like a home. His mother had died when Mason was a child, and he didn’t even remember her. During the year he’d been married, he and his wife had lived in a small house a few miles away. After her death, he’d moved in with his father. Mason had been lonely since his father’s death, but he hadn’t understood how