“We’re running a little late getting started,” Anna explained. “Today’s Mitch Gillespie’s first day at church with the new baby, so they’re doing the first Bible ceremony now.” She looked to Dana. “We give a Bible to each baby on their first visit to church. Normally we give it to both parents, but Mitch’s wife passed away right after the baby was born.” She shook her head. “Very sad, but God has His reasons, right? And the church will be there for Mitch and his girls.”
Dana’s mouth flattened and she blinked a couple of times. “It’s good that you’ll be able to help him.”
John knew she was probably thinking about her own mother’s passing. He’d released her hand when they started up the stairs, but he reached for it and fastened her fingers through his. “Ready to go inside?”
“Oh, yes. Dear me, I’m blocking the door. Come on in.” Anna stepped aside, and Dana and John entered just as the first song started.
* * *
Dana listened to the songs and the sermon, fighting tears. Probably because of the young widower in attendance, the entire service centered around Heaven and the joy waiting beyond this life. She thought about her father, twenty-six years ago. He’d been left with a newborn and a two-year-old when her own mother died giving birth to Dana. And then she thought about his death and how he’d found God right before he passed on.
The service ended, and Dana followed John out, nodding and smiling as he introduced her to each church member. But her thoughts remained on her father. He would’ve wanted her here, in this church, surrounded by people who believed, and finally feeling God’s presence in her life. Her father would have been glad she was helping John achieve his dreams. He had wanted her to help others and forget about the lure of power and greed.
And at this moment in her life, Dana could honestly say she had no desire for power, no reason for greed. But she had a strong desire for faith and—she glanced at John—perhaps even love.
She knew she felt something for the down-to-earth, honest, hardworking and gorgeous cowboy. Before she came to Claremont, she’d have said she felt admiration for the rancher with the big dreams, endless optimism and charming wit. But now that she’d met John, she suspected that her admiration teetered on something more. And she could almost feel it each time she looked at the tall, fascinating cowboy.
By the time John finished introducing her to people and then showed her all the church activity boards along the lobby wall, the majority of the congregation had already left the building. Georgiana, Landon and Eden had followed Abi outside so she could play on the church’s playground with her friends.
John seemed to wait until the line of church members visiting with the preacher had ended, then he steered her toward the white-haired man standing at the top of the stairs just outside the church. “Brother Henry, this is Dana Brooks.”
Crinkle lines formed tiny starbursts around his eyes with his smile. “A pleasure to meet you, Ms. Brooks.”
She shook the preacher’s hand. “I enjoyed the lesson.”
“Kind of hard not to enjoy a lesson about the glory land, isn’t it?” He gave her a soft smile. “God has given me great material to work with.”
She nodded. “Yes, He has.”
“So are you here visiting, or here to stay?”
“I’m visiting from Chicago.”
“Dana is helping me with another business at the farm. She’s investing in a dude ranch that I’m starting.”
“You don’t say. Well, now, you’re investing, and you said you’re from Chicago.” Blue eyes focused on Dana. “Are you kin to Lawrence Brooks?”
She nodded. “My father.”
“I’ve read all about his accomplishments, and heard about him on the news. I’m not all that hooked on the news typically. Too depressing the majority of the time. But I enjoy learning about people from the South who have done well, and your daddy, if I remember right, grew up on a cotton field in Mississippi, didn’t he?”
“Yes, sir, he did.”
“Then he moved up north and made a big name for himself in real estate.” He tilted his head. “I read about him going on to his reward. I’m sorry for your loss.”
She liked the way the preacher phrased it—going on to his reward. “Thank you.”
“So have you seen much of Claremont yet? I imagine it’s quite a contrast from your home, isn’t it?”
“It is, but I’m really enjoying the difference.”
“We went trail riding across Lookout Mountain yesterday,” John said. “Saw Jasper Falls and the creek.”
“Oh, that’s beautiful up there.” An elderly woman exited the church and moved to stand beside Brother Henry.
The preacher took her hand in his and smiled. “This is my wife, Mary. Mary, this is Dana Brooks. She’s from Chicago and is helping the Cutter family start a dude ranch out at their farm.”
“A dude ranch? What a great idea.” The woman looked to John. “You know, you could include all the facts about horses from the Bible as part of what you share with your guests. I know I find it all interesting.”
“Bible facts about horses?” John asked.
“Sure. I gathered a bunch of material that year we did the Vacation Bible School where the theme was Noah and the ark. We talked about animals in the Bible, so I researched the different animals to provide a few fun facts for the kids. Did you know there are over two hundred Bible verses about horses?”
“That’s amazing,” Dana said.
“I know.” Mary smiled. “Might be something you can use on your dude ranch—the Bible information. I still have all those trivia questions and everything in the teacher supply room. I’ll be happy to go get it for you, if you want.”
“Nah, that’s okay,” John said. “We’re going to head back to the ranch and get some lunch. But maybe another day.”
“Yes, y’all can come look at it anytime that’s convenient.” Mary focused on Dana. “And are you planning to stay down here, or are you just visiting?”
“Visiting.” Dana thought she saw something pass across John’s face—disappointment maybe? She tried to get a better look at him, but didn’t want to turn away from the sweet lady speaking to her now. Was he disappointed that she’d leave in a few weeks?
“Aw, that’s too bad.” Mary’s eyes glanced from Dana to John. “Claremont’s a great place to live. I was hoping that maybe you were staying for good.”
Dana forced a smile but inside she knew that she was beginning to hope the same thing. She thought Claremont would be a great place to live, too. It seemed as if nothing could ever go wrong in the quaint country town.
Then she felt the first drop of rain.
Chapter Eight
April showers decided on an early arrival. Rain had poured through every one of John’s four days off. Tonight he had to return to the steel plant, and he hadn’t made any progress on getting the dude ranch up and running. Mandy Brantley hadn’t been able to take any photos, because the trails were saturated and muddy. Casey hadn’t made any headway on the website, because he needed the photos to determine the layout. Titus Jameson, the construction guy John had hired to grade the campsite area and build the supplies shack by the creek, couldn’t get any of his equipment to the site because the fields resembled a swamp.
And on top of all that, six out of seven insurance companies John had contacted about insuring the dude ranch had turned him down flat. The only one left was the most expensive, and the price tag for the venture had climbed at a rapid pace already. Licenses and permits hadn’t come cheap, and then there was the cost of construction, supplies and advertising. Thanks to his business marketing classes, he’d learned more and more each day about the astronomical cost of advertising his business. The dude ranch wasn’t like the fish camp, relying on local word of mouth to keep the place filled. It wouldn’t be a
weekend getaway, but a family vacation. So John needed to advertise to people who would potentially schedule a week off work and school to visit the ranch.
How would Brooks International justify pouring so much money into an Alabama rancher’s dream, especially when Dana had been down here to oversee the project for over a week, and nothing had happened? And for the past four days, because of the professors at Stockville trying to get in as much work as possible before next week’s spring break, John hadn’t spent nearly as much time with Dana as he would have liked. Two of his classes this semester had labs, and both of the labs habitually ran long and required extra work. Then today the rain, even heavier than it’d been every other day, kept him from getting to the farm and seeing Dana any quicker.
To make matters worse, he had to go back to work at the steel plant tonight. His four nights off had been pretty much wasted, as far as benefiting the ranch was concerned.
His windshield wipers beat a crazy rhythm as they attempted to slice through the endless sheet of water. Between the heavy rain and the windshield fogging over, he could barely see the road. The defroster, like most everything else on the old truck, hadn’t worked in years, so he cranked down the window a little to clear up the fog on the glass. Unfortunately, that allowed a thin steady stream to spray John’s side as he inched his way along the curvy wooded stretch leading to the farm.
Squinting to focus, he made out Eden Sanders’s mailbox through the downpour. “One more mile.” Finally, the entrance to the ranch came into view. Typically he’d forgo getting the mail in the driving rain, but his hope that the final insurance company would give the answer he wanted had him putting the truck in Park, slapping on his Stetson and climbing out. His boots plunged into a gigantic puddle, the dirt driveway now a minilake in the torrent. Rain streamed off his hat and, because the water came down at an angle, it also pelted his face. He reached the old silver mailbox, yanked it open and withdrew the small stack of letters and bills inside. Then he held them against his chest in an effort to keep the things dry as he sprinted back to the truck.
The envelopes were damp, and he flipped through junk mail and utility bills, tossing the discarded ones on the seat. The last envelope had the insurance company’s logo, blurred from the rain, in the return address. Dear God, give us what we need for the dude ranch.
He pushed his finger along the edge of the envelope, opened it and withdrew the letter. Then he read a message that was almost word for word like the ones he’d received from all of the other companies.
No.
* * *
Dana didn’t know when she’d had more fun. Eden, Georgiana and Abi alternated singing country songs and Christian contemporary music as they cooked. Dana joined in when she knew the words and helped them create the meal.
Dana Brooks cooking, preparing a casserole of all things. Ryan wouldn’t believe it, but if her father were still around, he would. In one of their heartfelt conversations merely days before he died, he told her how he’d missed the simple joys of life while pursuing the almighty dollar. At his statement, she’d asked what he missed, and he’d answered, “I don’t know, because I missed it, but don’t you miss out, Dana.” She had patted his hand and promised she wouldn’t.
And here in the Cutter family kitchen, she found undeniable joy.
“Is this one ready for the marker?” Abi pointed to a broccoli, cheese and rice casserole that Eden had placed on the table to cool.
“I think so.” Eden slid a green bean casserole in the oven, then covered the broccoli dish with a layer of heavy-duty foil.
“Can you hand me that marker, Miss Dana?”
“Sure.” Dana put down the potato peeler and sweet potato, grabbed the Sharpie and placed it in the little girl’s hand.
“Mama, can you spell this one for me? I know it’s a b and an r, then what?” Abi wrote the two letters she knew on the top of the foil then waited, her tongue sticking out the side of her mouth as she concentrated.
Georgiana, cooking as well as any sighted person, stirred the brownie batter as she spelled out the remainder of broccoli casserole for her little girl. Abi’s letters were perfect, for the most part, except for the second r, which looked a little more like a p.
“So how many do we have now?” Georgiana slid her palm along the counter, found the baking dish and poured the batter inside.
“Six casseroles and three main dishes.” Eden rinsed her hands at the sink and then dried them off with a dish towel. “With everything the other ladies from church plan to make, we should have Mitch’s freezer filled for quite some time.” She peered out the window. “I just wish it wasn’t raining so hard for when y’all deliver it.”
“Maybe the rain will die down in a little while.” Georgiana moved toward the sink with the mixing bowl, then paused and turned toward the table. “Abi, want to lick the bowl?”
“Yes, ma’am!”
Smiling, Georgiana stepped toward the table and Abi reached for the chocolate-coated bowl. “Rainy days are the best cooking days, aren’t they?” Georgiana said to her little girl.
“Yes, ma’am.” Abi licked the spoon and got her first taste of brownie batter.
For the past four days, the rain stopped occasionally, but even during those brief moments, dark clouds cloaked the sky. John had been particularly dismayed with the weather, since it prevented them from making any headway with the dude ranch. But Dana didn’t mind the rain. When he went to the college each day, she stayed at the house with Georgiana, Eden and Abi. They’d had “girl time” in a way she’d never known, much better than hanging around her friends back home. There was no talk of upcoming notable events, no references to social status, nothing to put a damper on their optimism. Not even the weather.
Today they’d joined the church’s effort to provide food for Mitch Gillespie while he adjusted to life without his wife. The meals didn’t have to be overly large, since he only had himself and his three-year-old daughter to feed. His new baby girl would be on formula for a while and then baby food. Dana had been concerned about the young father ever since she learned his story at church Sunday, so helping to prepare the meals had been a pleasure. Even though she didn’t know the man personally, she was glad that she could help. And silently she wondered if anyone had helped her father after her mother passed.
“I see some lights heading up the driveway. That’ll be John.” Eden left the kitchen and crossed the living area, peered out the front window in an effort to see.
“Or Landon. He should’ve been back from Doc Sheridan’s by now,” Georgiana said. “I hate that Sam got sick in the middle of this storm.”
Dana had come to know all the animals around the farm over the past few days. Sam, short for Samantha, was the name of Landon’s mare. Dana had learned that Landon received Sam as a gift from his father when he was eight, that the horse was probably in her last years and that Landon would do anything he could to keep her comfortable. Even if that meant going out in a storm for medicine.
“It’s John.” Eden continued peering at the drive. “And Landon is right behind him. They’re both here.”
“Thank goodness.” Georgiana opened the oven door and called over her shoulder, “Is the top rack free?”
Dana looked at the casserole dishes on the middle rack. The top rack was empty. “Yes, it’s free.”
Georgiana slid the brownies in and then closed the door. “Abi, you want to fix a timer for the brownies? Twenty-five minutes.”
Abi climbed off her chair and ran across the kitchen to pull yet another rectangular timer from the drawer. Several timers were sporadically spaced around the kitchen for the various dishes. “I picked a brown timer, so we’ll know it’s for the brownies.”
“Great idea.” Georgiana washed her hands and crossed the room toward the door as John, soaked through and through, hustled inside. “Landon?” she asked
.
“No, it’s me. Landon went out to the barn.” John took off his Stetson, hung it on a hook by the door then pushed wet hair out of his eyes.
“Sam’s sick,” she told him. “I’m sure Landon wants to get her medicine to her as soon as he can.”
Dana watched the exchange from the kitchen, the sweet potatoes she’d been peeling totally forgotten as her vision focused on John. His face was tense, brows dipped and mouth a flat line. No dimples to be seen. He looked up, locked eyes with hers, but the smile that she’d received almost every day when he came in was missing in action.
“You doing okay?” he asked Dana.
She nodded. “Yes, I’m fine.” But she wasn’t the one who appeared not to be doing okay. Something had happened to him today. “How were your classes?”
“Okay.” He didn’t make any effort to walk toward the kitchen, as he had every other day upon arriving at the house, but moved toward the stairs. His clothes were drenched.
Dana had never seen a more beautiful man. Or a man who looked so disheartened. What had happened?
“I’m gonna go get some dry clothes.” And with that, he started up the stairs, while Dana, confused, turned her attention back to peeling the sweet potatoes.
“Is Uncle John sad?” Abi asked, as if Dana had a way of knowing the answer.
“I don’t know.”
“When Daddy is sad, Mama makes him coffee.” She propped her chin in her hand and watched the slivers of orange potato skin fall into the plastic trash can near Dana’s knees. “Maybe you could make Uncle John some coffee to make him happy.”
Eden grinned at her granddaughter. “That’s a good idea, Abi. And it might take the chill of the rain off.”
“Do you know how to make coffee yet?” The innocence of Abi’s question made Dana laugh. She’d obviously paid attention to Dana’s limitations in the kitchen. But thanks to Eden’s and Georgiana’s patience and instructions—not to mention detailed handwritten recipe cards—she was learning. And, thankfully, coffee was one of the few things she had mastered before she’d ever stepped foot in Claremont.
Heart of a Rancher Page 10
