by Irene Brand
“I’ll make potato salad for our supper,” Sheila volunteered when they’d gotten all the supplies stored in the kitchen cabinets. Impulsively, Sheila put her arms around Norah and hugged her tightly.
“It’s going to be fun having you here the rest of the summer,” Sheila continued. “We so rarely have anyone new come to the community that it gets kinda boring. Now, not only you, but all the H & H people will be here for several months to liven things up.”
Norah was touched by Sheila’s sincerity and welcome. The Williamsons had never been an affectionate family, and this natural gesture of Sheila’s brought a mist of tears to Norah’s eyes.
“I don’t know how lively I’ll be,” Norah said. “I just hope I can keep up with the fast pace.”
After Sheila left, Norah made a pie from the fresh peaches she’d bought at the supermarket. Then she filled a casserole with scalloped mixed vegetables and put it in the oven. The rest of the meal would be simple—hamburger patties and buns.
At six o’clock, Mason rode around the house into the grove of trees where Norah was putting hamburgers on the grill. He was astride his favorite quarter horse and leading the palomino Norah had ridden.
“I’ll turn Daisy into the corral, and maybe tomorrow evening I can teach you how to saddle and care for her.”
“I doubt you can do that in one evening. Remember, I’m a slow learner,” she said, laughing up at him.
Mason’s gaze was fixed on her face, and he drew a deep breath as he sensed the undeniable attraction building between them. A magnetism so powerful that he wondered if he had the strength to keep this woman at arm’s length all summer. He had to keep reminding himself that his own hang-ups about marriage, as well as her desire to become a missionary, hindered any serious relationship between them. He could never fit into her world, and he doubted she would accept his.
Mason desperately wished that God would reveal the future so he might know what move to make. But Mason had learned long ago that God expected His followers to live by faith. Mason lifted the reins and rode toward the corral without speaking.
Norah stared after Mason in bewilderment before she turned toward the picnic area. What had caused the confusion and uncertainty on his face? And she wished she wasn’t so conscious of Mason’s magnetic personality. His mere presence had the power to send her spirits soaring. She both anticipated and dreaded the next few months when she could expect to see Mason at any time.
Mason returned about the time Doug and Sheila arrived. Doug had a guitar slung over his shoulder, and he said, “Thought we could have some dinner music.”
“You call what you do to that guitar music?” Mason jeered good-naturedly.
“Norah can be the judge,” Doug retorted in kind. “She’s probably a connoisseur of fine music.”
“No music until after we’ve eaten,” Sheila said. Lifting the lid of the grill, she added, “These burgers are ready. Do you want Mason to say the blessing?” she asked Norah.
“Yes, please.”
Mason and Doug took off their hats while Mason prayed in simple terms, asking God’s blessing on their food. There was nothing showy about Mason’s faith, but Norah sensed that he had a deep, abiding Christian belief in the majesty and the goodness of God. A faith that had guided him through the difficult circumstances he’d encountered as a youth.
Listening to Doug and Mason talk about the rigors of ranching, Norah realized what a risky occupation these men followed. Their livelihood depended on the consistency of nature, so it was no wonder Mason had developed a keen dependence upon the providence of God.
After they’d eaten, Doug and Mason helped carry the food and utensils into the kitchen, then wandered to the front porch, cups of coffee in their hands. When Norah and Sheila joined them, Doug was strumming gently on the guitar. Sheila sat on a cushion near Doug’s chair, and Norah went to the swing, where she swayed gently back and forth in time to the music. Mason took the cups to the kitchen and sat in a chair near the swing when he returned.
In a rich soprano, Sheila started singing softly, “O give me a home where the buffalo roam,” and soon Doug’s tenor, and Mason’s deep bass joined Sheila’s as they sang “Home on the Range,” a favorite of Western music fans for generations. Norah hummed the music as they sang.
Norah applauded when they finished. “Your talent is impressive. You’d be a big hit in Nashville or Branson.”
Pretending embarrassment, Doug clowned. “Aw, pshaw, ma’am, you’re being too kind about our caterwauling.”
“I’m serious. Your harmony is amazing. Do you sing often?”
“Just once in a while like this,” Mason said, “but we might sing more often if we had a good alto, and you’ve got the voice for it. Start another song, Sheila, so Norah can sing with us.”
“I don’t know a lot of songs,” Norah said.
“You probably know ‘Amazing Grace,”’ Doug said.
When Norah nodded, he struck a chord and Norah’s voice blended with the others in the words, “Amazing grace, how sweet the sound.”
“Hey!” Sheila said, clapping her hands at the end of the song. “Maybe we can go to Nashville. I’ve always had a hankering to sing professionally.”
“Forget it,” Mason said. “I have a ranch to run.”
“At least, we should plan to entertain the H & H kids,” Norah said. “Let’s have a Wild West party for each group, and we can provide the musical entertainment. I’m sure Jim Hanson would like it. He’s concerned about having enough activities to keep the children occupied. Most of them are city kids, and he thinks they might find ranch country too quiet.”
“And there’s no reason,” Sheila said, “that we can’t practice and sing for the Fourth of July celebration. I’m on the entertainment committee, and I haven’t found any singers yet. We can do Western favorites and hymns, and our neighbors would love it.”
“Maybe we can go on the road,” Doug said. “Singing groups are pretty scarce in this part of the state.”
“Don’t get carried away, Doug,” Mason said. “I don’t have time for that and neither do you. About the time we had a concert planned, our cows would start calving, or it would be time to put up hay.”
“We’re not too busy in the winter, and that’s when there’s a call for entertainers,” Sheila argued.
“Don’t count on me,” Norah said. “I’ll be leaving in September.”
“At least we can sing this summer,” Sheila said, refusing to relinquish her plan. “Let’s practice and work up a repertoire for the kids and the Fourth of July.”
Doug and Norah enthusiastically agreed with her. Mason was more reluctant, but he finally said, “I’m shorthanded for workers this summer, but if you’ll use songs I already know, I’ll help out.”
From her seat in the swing, Norah studied Mason’s profile, and she wondered what he’d look like without whiskers. He was close enough that she could reach out and touch his arm—and her fingers tingled with the desire to do so. Mason looked in her direction and as his dark eyes met her blue ones, a spark ignited, confusing her emotions. His eyes searched her face, and she wondered if he could read her thoughts. Mason reached a hand toward her and hastily withdrew it, but a hint of wonder brightened his eyes before Norah looked away.
Sheila saw the gesture, and with a grin and uplifted eyebrows, she glanced at her husband. Doug shook his head in warning. As he continued to strum the guitar strings softly, Norah and Mason experienced a mutual awareness, creating an unmistakable bond between them. For a warm, heady interlude, their hearts had composed a mutual song.
Chapter Eight
The first week with the children passed more quickly than Norah had dreamed that it would. As the two vans drove away from the Bar 8 on Friday afternoon, several little hands fluttered from the windows, waving goodbye. Norah’s heart tightened as she thought about each of the children who’d participated in the first week of therapy.
The first three weeks of H & H activities were d
esigned to train six children who were legally blind. They’d arrived at the ranch on Monday morning, accompanied by Seeing Eye dogs. There were fourteen volunteers, of various ages—the youngest, a boy of sixteen, the oldest, a seventy-five-year-old woman. It had been a week of learning for everyone.
When the last van left the Bar 8, Norah eased into one of the rocking chairs on the porch. “It’s been quite a week,” she said to Jim Hanson, the therapist and athletic director of the H & H program, who leaned against a porch post.
“Yes, it has,” Jim agreed. “Overall, what’s your evaluation of the program?”
Jim was thirty-five, of medium height and muscular build. His blond hair and blue eyes suggested his Norwegian ancestry. He was easygoing, compassionate and an expert in his field.
Norah considered his question for a few minutes. “After only five days, I’ve seen improvement in most of the children. They have more confidence, and all were smiling today. There weren’t many smiles the first day.”
“Fear of the unknown,” Jim said. “Most of these children had never been close to a horse before. For a day or two, they wouldn’t even touch the animal. But this morning, all of the children mounted the horses and rode short distances around the inside arena.”
Carolyn Turner, the petite, dark-haired resident nurse of the program, came out of the house carrying a medical bag.
“I stored all of our medications in your refrigerator for the weekend,” she said to Norah. Turning to Jim, she commented, “The volunteers were all patient, and they helped the kids gain confidence.”
“I wish we could have worked with only one group all summer,” Jim continued. “We could gain a better assessment of the program if we’d had the same riders for several months, not weeks.”
“Why didn’t you?” Norah questioned.
“Since it’s a pilot project, our board of directors wanted to see how different groups responded to the therapy. We’ll work with the mentally and physically impaired during the next two sessions. That way we can compare our methods and determine what’s most effective.” He pulled his car keys from his pocket. “We’d better hit the road, Carolyn. We need to stay close behind the vans.”
Norah followed them down the walk to their car. “Have the meals been all right? I need to know before I buy groceries tomorrow.”
Jim’s generous mouth spread into a wide smile. “I didn’t hear any complaints, so continue just what you’re doing. You’re responsible for the cooking—so make your own decisions.”
“Next week, I plan to have homemade ice cream. There are a couple of hand-crank freezers here, and the kids might like the experience of making ice cream.”
“Sounds like a great idea.”
“Also, the Johnsons, Mason and I are planning a special program the last week you’re here. We want to take the kids on a short hayride, have a cookout and some music.”
“That’s extra work for you, but it sounds like a great idea,” Jim agreed.
“Then it won’t be too dangerous for the children to ride in a wagon?”
“Shouldn’t think so,” Jim said.
After she waved Jim and Carolyn on their way, Norah went to the kitchen where Sheila was filling the dishwasher. They’d made a good team in the kitchen—each of them had agreed on their duties, and they did them without getting in the other’s way.
“I feel good about the week,” Sheila said. “It seems so rewarding. I like kids, and until Doug and I start on our family, it’s kinda fun to be working with these children.”
Norah nodded in agreement. “They seemed to like our food, and Jim says it’s fine.”
“Do you want me to go grocery shopping with you tomorrow?”
“It would be helpful. I need to pick up my car from the mechanic’s. Then you could come back home, and I can shop alone. You must have lots of work to do at home.”
“That’s true—I haven’t cleaned our home all week. I’m so glad one of the volunteers does all the cleaning here.”
“I feel rather mean about being paid for working when these volunteers get nothing,” Norah said. “But I really do need the money.”
She stood, hands on her hips, looking at several bowls of food on the table. “I don’t know what to do with these leftovers. They won’t last until Monday. Why don’t you telephone Doug and ask him to come and eat supper with us?”
“He and Mason are together,” Sheila said. “They went to a machinery sale in Valentine today. They should be on their way home by now. I’ll see if Doug will answer his cell phone.”
Sheila reached for the phone on the kitchen wall. “Hi,” Sheila said, when Doug answered. “Just checking to see where you are.” She listened to Doug’s answer. “The kids are gone, and we have a lot of food left. We’ll wait until you and Mason get here, and you can eat with us.”
Replacing the phone, Sheila said, “They’ll be home by four o’clock. Doug said all they’d had to eat today was one hamburger and a Coke, so I figure we won’t have to worry about leftovers by the time they finish.”
Norah tried to conceal her pleasure. She hadn’t seen Mason all week, and she looked forward to spending the evening with him. He had telephoned a few times, but they’d both been busy during the daytime, and she went to bed early in the evening. She figured she looked untidy after spending the day in the kitchen, and she wondered if she’d have time for a shower.
Sheila must have read her thoughts because she said, “I’d like to change into different clothes, but I’ve fed these two men before, and they’ll pay more attention to the food on the table than they will to what we’re wearing.”
Knowing this was probably true, Norah stopped thinking about her appearance. She mixed the leftover spaghetti and sauce together, added Parmesan cheese and put it in the oven to bake. She set out the gelatin salad left from lunch and filled bowls with raw vegetable salad. She arranged rolls on a plate to pop into the microwave when the men arrived.
“Let’s set this small table here in the kitchen rather than eating in the dining room. It seems more homey.”
“Good idea! We have plenty of cake and fruit salad left,” Sheila said as she cut two large squares of cake for the men and dished up helpings of fruit salad for her and Norah.
“I’ll make some coffee,” Norah said.
“As hot as the weather has turned,” Sheila said, “the guys will probably want iced tea, too, but there’s almost a pitcher left.”
When the men walked into the kitchen, Doug grabbed Sheila in a bear hug and kissed her soundly. “I’ve missed you today, honey.”
Norah’s face grew warm in embarrassment, and Mason stood awkwardly in the doorway, pulling at his collar. After a few days with Sheila and Doug, Norah had seen how much tenderness and sharing she’d missed by not being married.
She made an effort to regain her composure. “Come in, Mason. Hope you won’t mind leftovers.”
He hung his hat on a chair by the door. “Not at all.” He took her hand. “How’s your week been?”
“Rewarding and busy.” Her face brightened with animation. “I’m so happy I came here. I felt sorry for the children at first, but by the end of the week, I forgot their disabilities and marveled at their courage. This program is a godsend to them. I hope it can be continued.”
“I’m sorry I haven’t had time to watch what’s going on,” Mason said, “but we’ve been busy at the ranch.”
After they’d eaten, Norah and Sheila cleared the table while the men pushed their chairs back, each crossing a leg on his knee, visibly relaxed, and savored an after-dinner cup of coffee. The dude ranch owners had provided many table games for their guests, and Sheila brought a box of Rook cards from the dining room.
“How about a game?” she asked. “We’ve needed another person so we can play partners in our card games. Norah, do you want to challenge the guys to a game of Rook? When we play singlehanded, they always beat me.”
“Why not? We can sleep late in the morning.”
&nbs
p; The time passed quickly as Sheila and Doug pitted their wits against each other. Norah didn’t care much who won, and she doubted that Mason did, either, but they joined in the kidding and rivalry between the younger couple. When she and Norah won two games out of three, Sheila crowed, “There! I knew all I needed was a good partner. Another game?”
“No,” Doug said, “it’s ten o’clock. You and Norah might be able to sleep late in the morning, but I can’t. I need to check out all the horses the kids have been riding this week and make necessary repairs to the tack before they come back on Monday. I want to be sure the equipment is safe for the kids. So let’s go home.”
“I’d better go, too,” Mason said after the Johnsons left, but he obviously didn’t want to leave.
“No need to hurry. I’ve been under a lot of pressure this week, and I need to relax before bedtime. Shall we sit on the porch?” Norah asked in a quiet voice.
The security light at the barn didn’t penetrate this corner of the house, but Norah turned off most of the lights in the house. Since there was no moon tonight, they more or less groped their way to the chairs on the back porch.
Noting her actions, Mason said, “You must be getting accustomed to country living. You don’t seem to fear the darkness now.”
“I’m forcing myself to accept it. Most of the time, I’m not afraid at all.”
“Are you going to be busy this weekend?” Mason asked.
“Sheila is driving me into Valentine tomorrow so I can pick up my car. I’ll buy groceries, and that will about use up the day.”
“I’ll be busy tomorrow, too. But how about Sunday? If you’re not busy, let’s go someplace after we attend church service.”
“On foot, horseback or vehicle?” she said, and perceiving the lightness of her tone, Mason knew she was smiling.
“Your preference.”
“Then let’s go in your truck. Aren’t there some Mari Sandoz sites in the Sand Hills? I’ve read her book, Old Jules, and I’d like to see the places she mentioned in her writings.”
“That’s where we’ll go then—it’s not far away. I’ve always been interested in that area, too. My great-grandfather came to Nebraska the same time as Old Jules—they were neighbors for a while.”
