No Place Like Home

by Lisa Prysock

  “That obvious, huh?” Melanie shifted her position at the foot of the bed.

  “We’re terrible at keeping secrets,” Kylie admitted. “But we did bring you a salad.”

  “Well, what is it? Out with it,” Tory insisted. “And thanks. Salad is great.”

  “You’re not going to shoot the messengers, are you?” Kylie’s eyes narrowed.

  “Why do I have a feeling this has something to do with Arianna?” Tory drank some of her bottled spring water. She held no animosity or enmity toward Arianna, but the girl did seem to delight in stirring up trouble.

  “Tory, how’d you guess?” Melanie laughed again, this time not as nervous as before.

  Kylie sighed. “I’d rather she hear it from us than someone else.”

  “You’ve got a point there,” Melanie agreed and plunged forward with details. “Well, after the Benevolence and Community Questions and Answers portion, we all went to the main house for lunch. Arianna came by our table and sat down, uninvited. She proceeded to tell us she had dinner last night with Bronson.”

  “She was all gushy about it, too.” Kylie rolled her eyes. “She kept saying how handsome he is and how much fun they had together.”

  Tory looked from one to the other. “This just doesn’t sound quite right. Bronson had to go look at Conestoga wagons for sale yesterday and make a quick stop in Lander for creep feed for the new foals.”

  “Well, we’re just telling you what Arianna said,” Melanie shrugged. “Something sounds fishy to me, too. It doesn’t sound like your Bronson, but we thought you should know.”

  “No, it doesn’t sound like my Bronson.” Tory looked down at the promise ring on her finger. “Thanks for telling me.” Tory flung the quilt aside and swung her feet to the floor. Forgetting about her ankle, she rose up quickly and then winced.

  “What do you need, Tory? We’ll get it for you,” Melanie offered, her brows furrowing with concern.

  “Oh, I don’t need anything. I’m going to talk to Bronson and give him a piece of my mind! Or, or, maybe I’ll just take a horseback ride and practice my violin somewhere quiet for the talent competition. I’m afraid if I see him or Arianna right now, I’ll say something I may live to regret.”

  “Want me to at least drive you to the barn?” Kylie offered.

  “Sure! That’d be really nice, because I don’t think I should be driving Corinthia 13 in my emotional state or my condition. I’ll be dressed and downstairs in five minutes.” Tory hobbled over to the dresser, opened a drawer, and pulled out a pair of jeans. She hobbled over to the closet and pulled out a white blouse with wide frilly forearms, a ruffled bateau neckline, and her pink cowboy boots.

  “There’s a cold front that came in this afternoon. You may need a jacket,” Kylie cautioned as she rose from the bed.

  Melanie and Kylie headed for the steps of the loft bedroom so she could change in privacy, but Melanie paused at the top of the staircase. “Just remember, before you fly out of this cabin in a huff without hearing both sides of the story, who would you trust more? The subtly malicious, flirty, mildly conniving Arianna—or Bronson—the man who adores you, gave you that gorgeous ring, and promised he’ll marry you someday?”

  Tory stopped in her tracks. “Good point. You’re a true friend, Melanie. Thank you, I’ll try not to lose my head before I hear Bronson out. I know there are two sides to every story.”

  She dressed quickly, applied some powder and lip gloss, brushed her hair, and pulled her dark tresses into a messy bun. At least her ankle wasn’t swollen to the point of being unable to wear her favorite boots. After she slid the last boot on, she put her phone in her back pocket and realized she’d missed an earlier text from Bronson:

  See you later tonight. Transporting the Conestoga to The Sweetwater. Thinking of you.

  Have you been thinking of me, Bronson Edwards? Or have you been up to no good with Arianna Perkins? Shaking the thoughts from her mind, she decided not to answer the text until she had a better handle on things. She was determined not to lose her temper, at least until she knew the truth. He deserved that much from her. So far, he’d been a perfect gentleman. He didn’t seem like the kind of guy to play games. Arianna, on the other hand, was another story all together. If the judges saw through her tactics, why were they allowing her to remain in the pageant? Something didn’t add up, but what, or why?

  “GRACE AND POISE, GRACE and poise,” Tory repeated to herself as she headed out on trail number three astride a beautiful horse named Mia. Bronson nowhere in sight, McGuire had saddled the horse and helped her mount. The violin case, her favorite blue jean jacket with pink embellishments, and a rolled quilt were securely strapped on. She even had a water bottle in case she stayed a while—and in her mood—she suspected she would.

  The beautiful lake where they’d picnicked more than a week ago beckoned. She remembered the serenity of the setting and wanted to see it without the clamor of contestants and trail riders. She desperately hoped the area would be free of all signs of human life. This was one of those times when if she couldn’t find Bronson, it was best for her to be alone to wrestle with her emotion.

  Keeping her eyes on the mountains in the distance, she and Mia meandered along the trail at a slow and steady pace, enjoying the solitude. Most folks were back at the ranch this time of day, resting and getting ready to go to one of the chuck wagon dinners The Sweetwater offered.

  When Tory reached the lake, she dismounted, wincing again whenever she placed weight on her ankle. Her elbow and hip were still sore, and now her nerves were as worked up as when she’d taken the fall in the morning Question and Answer practice round. Her anger level coursed through her soul and mind due to Arianna’s claims.

  Finding out the morning event had served as an elimination round for five more girls gave her more mixed thoughts and feelings, even though she’d made it through the round. She felt badly for the girls who’d be going home that very day. Now only five remained and as one of the final five, she whispered up a prayer of thanks to the Lord for allowing her to be included among them. She asked Him to continue to help her through the pitfalls of the competition, but tears welled in her eyes now that she was alone to consider it was at least possible there might be some shred of truth to Arianna’s story.

  Looking around for a quiet, undisturbed place slightly off the trail to play her violin and work through her myriad of thoughts, Tory tethered the horse to an ample oak and spread the quilt on a grassy knoll beneath. The oak, containing a crude hunting platform, offered a view of the lake and long boughs above for a tranquil hideaway.

  Once she’d settled on the quilt for a while, the serenity of the lake shimmering in the warm sunshine calmed her. It was a cloudy day, but the rays of the sun peeked through the white tufts in the sky often enough for it to be enjoyable, even a refreshing change of pace from the relentless summer heat. She shivered in the cooler, breezy weather—unusual for July—hopeful for more of the warm sunshine to maintain comfort. Kylie had been right about needing a jacket. She scrambled to her feet. Reaching the horse, she retrieved her jean jacket and slipped into it, ignoring the honking geese she heard flying above.

  In the short time it took to push her arms through the sleeves—which hadn’t been easy because of the flared sleeves on her blouse—she could no longer ignore the honking. She turned around to see what was going on and her mouth dropped open to behold the sight before her. A large flock of white geese swarmed into the area, landing all over the banks of the lake. They cackled and honked, flapping their wings, bumping into each other, making loud noises. They were all trying to find room to land. Some skidded onto the lake, and others slowed their flapping until they touched the ground, their reddish legs running until they came to a rest from flight. What is this, she wondered, invasion of the geese?

  One goose, unable to find room on the ground to land, circled around Mia and Tory three times. Then she chose to land on Mia’s head right between her ears, honking as she flapped her wing
s, spanning four to five feet. Tory ducked and Mia’s ears twitched. The horse stomped, shook her head, and neighed softly, but the honking of so many geese drowned out her equine protests. As the chestnut horse stomped her feet, another goose landed on the saddle. Tory froze and laughed, trapped in a sea of white plumage.

  “Shoo, shoo...” she managed, but the geese paid her no mind, noisily flapping about her feet. Some landed in the two rowboats parked at the dock of the lake. Others waddled onto the dock, honking that they’d arrived.

  In territorial manner, those swarming closest to her and Mia continued honking, pecking, jumping, and flapping around her feet. She laughed again, glad she’d worn her boots, but feeling dizzy from all of the commotion about them.

  It wasn’t easy on her sprained ankle, but she decided to make a dash for the hunter’s platform, calling out, “Sorry, Mia!” She hated to abandon the beautiful broodmare, but they’d each have to fend for themselves.

  Tory ran through the geese and retrieved her beautiful violin, many of them stepping aside as she made a path through the flock. Thankfully, they’d left her quilt alone, but she didn’t want to take any chances with her fine instrument. She clutched the violin and dove to the base of the oak, scrambling up the makeshift ladder and onto the crude platform, feeling safe at last—for the moment. She sat down and scooted up to the front of the platform, dangling her feet over the edge where she could observe the beautiful, noisy flock below.

  Tory peered at Mia stomping her feet and wiggling her head from side to side, attempting to dislodge the goose from standing on her head. Whenever the horse didn’t hold still, the goose simply looked down and pecked the horse’s long nose. The one riding in the saddle merely honked louder each time Mia made any movement at all, sometimes spreading its wings to maintain balance. When the horse settled, Tory observed Mia had decided it seemed the bipartisan thing to do to accustom herself to her new feathered friends.

  If only she had her sketch pad and pencil handy. From her present view, the scene below was breathtaking and humorous, invoking a sense of deep awe, peace, wonder, amusement, and release inside as she pondered the amazing sea of white which had descended upon the shimmery lake. God had a way of whispering to her and getting through to her. In this moment, all she could do was laugh and marvel at the scene—perhaps the very things He’d wanted her to do. There was something reassuring about the behavior of the migratory honking geese that filled her with peace, reminding her God had created everything and had all things in His hand—including everything which affected her life.

  “TORY? IS THAT YOU?” Riding into the midst of the flock came the sound of her beloved Bronson’s voice and the clop of a sturdy stallion. Astride a horse she knew to be named Jehoshaphat, the look of wonder on his face caused her to giggle as the aggressive geese swarmed the legs of the horse while he took in the unusual view.

  He’d spotted her up on the hunting platform almost immediately. Perhaps he’d been hunting wild turkey or some other game from the location of her perch in the fall or winters on The Sweetwater.

  “Whoa!” he commanded, pausing to consider the sight all around them. Half of the birds had skidded to land in the water, while the others swarmed the banks with their loud honking noises, cackling, waddling about, pecking, and wing flapping. They clamored more and more now that Bronson had entered their new territory.

  Tory was relieved to see him. She had questions, in addition to being completely uncertain as to how she’d fight for a spot on the saddle.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, holding onto his hat as he peered up at her while she dangled her legs clad in her pink boots. “You look absolutely serene and beautiful up there.”

  “Thank you,” she returned, unsure of how she wanted to proceed where Bronson was concerned.

  He glanced at Mia and chuckled at the sight. Then he dismounted and strode through the geese to climb up to her side. The geese flapped their wings and honked loudly, expressing displeasure at his invasion of their territory. When he reached the hunting platform, he sat down beside her so they were both dangling their legs over the edge.

  “Snow geese in July. There must be a norwester driving them out of northern Canada, which explains the cold spell we’re having. Big rainstorm, I imagine. They don’t usually come here 'til winter.” He paused while they both watched a snow goose flap its wings and skid to a perfectly graceful landing into the water.

  When she didn’t offer any conversation, he looked at her. “How’s your ankle?”

  “How do you know about my ankle?” She tried to keep her voice steady and calm, but she could feel the tears welling up again.

  “I stopped by the cabin to ask you to dinner or coffee. Melanie and Kylie told me the whole story.” He scooted back on the platform and pulled her into his arms. “Don’t believe a word of Arianna’s lies. She begged me for a ride into Lander when I had to make that emergency run for more creep feed. Said she needed to pick up a prescription for her migraines and caught me as I was trying to beat the closing time for the feed store. Of course, if I’d said no, she could complain to my boss that I wasn’t considerate and helpful. Saying yes, I have her stories to contend with.”

  “She claims you two went to dinner together.”

  “That’s what Melanie told me. Arianna ordered carry out from Bubba’s Burgers after picking up her prescription while I was at the feed store. I didn’t eat anything with her or order food anywhere. In fact, as I finished loading the bags of feed onto the truck, she shows up with a little bag from the pharmacy and a single burger from Bubba’s, which she ate while I drove us back to the ranch.” He turned her around to face him. “She’s just trying to see if she can divide us.”

  Tory relaxed a whole lot to hear the truth.

  He put one finger under her chin and tilted her face to look in her eyes and in his firm, manly voice said, “Don’t ever think I’d do something like that to you.”

  Tory breathed a sigh of relief and closing her eyes, she pursed her lips so he could brush them with his in a gentle kiss. Then he stopped and looked at her for what seemed like a whole minute. “I heard she pushed you.”

  She nodded, looking down at her pink boots but not seeing them.

  “I plan to have a word with the judges.” Bronson shook his head. “I don’t like anyone messing with my girl.”

  “You don’t have to say anything, although I don’t understand why they didn’t disqualify her. Katie told me they saw what she did.” Tory sighed and then added, “Unless, maybe she’s somehow related to or connected to someone important to the pageant, or maybe they just don’t have enough proof to disqualify her.”

  “It is possible she has some sort of connection to someone who sponsors the pageant.” He stared out at the lake. Turning back to her, he added, “Small town politics do go on. You’re probably right. There’s some reason why they haven’t sent her home. Congrats for making it to the final round, by the way.”

  “Thank you,” she smiled, feeling better for the first time all day.

  “Let’s not think about Arianna. I got the Connestoga. Just pulled it up to the horse barns on a flatbed 'bout thirty minutes ago. Checked on the guys building the platforms for Pioneer Week. They look great so far. Everything’s going according to schedule. When Jill and Logan picked up the kids for their trip along the Oregon Trail, they said they were really happy with the progress for the event. And, I’ve got three new wranglers to help out for the rest of the summer. They start tomorrow.”

  “Wow, that’s great news! Everything’s finally coming together.” She smiled up at him, wondering how she could’ve doubted her handsome cowboy. She had to be patient and give herself plenty of time to get to know him better. His integrity had always been more than obvious, but sometimes the enemy seemed to work overtime to bring confusion and strife. She saw through it now, though. And the best part, she’d maintained grace and poise while trying to sort it out, with plenty of leaning on the Lord.

 
They sat there together for a while listening to the noisy geese and looking at the lake, holding hands. Part of the lake looked like a sea of white.

  “Did you know the snow goose mates for life?” He turned and kissed her again. They scooted away from the edge of the platform and she clung to his strong arms wrapped around her slim shoulders.

  She smiled at him, drawn into the gaze from his hazel eyes, melting as he began to plant soft little kisses all over her face. “I do now,” she whispered, “I do now, cowboy of my heart.”

  Chapter 17

  “Each day of our lives we make deposits in the memory banks of our children.”

  —Charles R. Swindoll

  “ALL RIGHT, MISS MARSHMALLOW Toes, find Idaho on the map. Then find U.S. Route 20 going west.” Logan brushed more barbecue sauce on the plenteous chicken legs and thighs on the grill beside the camper. “Zach, see if you can help.”

  “Found it, Uncle Logan!” Gracie Anne beamed proudly.

  “Not bad for age thirteen. Now you’ll know how to find things without using GPS if you need to.” Logan turned some of the chicken over to be sure it grilled evenly.

  “Why would we need to know how to do that? Doesn’t everybody use GPS?” Zachary looked confused.

  “No, and sometimes power to electronic items fail. Sometimes they malfunction. Sometimes you’re not able to get them charged up. And sometimes, the information provided isn’t accurate. Everyone needs to know how to read a standard print map.” Logan continued turning pieces of chicken as Jill and Jackie brought food and paper plates out to the picnic table. Micah and Savannah followed with a crock of butter and seasonings. “Make sense?”

  “Yes, sir, it does,” Zach answered, studying the map with Grace Anne.

  “All right, you have your finger on Route 20?” Logan held the tongs up in one hand, an oven mitt on the other. It was nice to be cooking in the shade of the awning, and even nicer the site had a picnic table next to the camper.