by Sherri Sand
Sierra crossed her arms tight against the chill and looked at Ross, but he’d already turned away. If he wanted clear, she’d make certain her feelings were clear.
Ross helped Sid into the arena and up the stairs into the cold stands. He maneuvered so Sid sat on one side of him and Emory on the other, with Sierra’s mom on the other side of Sid, but somehow Sierra ended up in the tiny spot between him and Emory, her thigh pressed to his. He tried to shift his weight away from her, but Sid gave him a look and said, “Yer crowding me. Scoot down a hair.” He leaned around Ross and gave Sierra a sly grin. “You don’t mind if ol’ Ross here crowds up against you, do you now?”
“No, he can scoot all he wants.” The smile she gave Ross was warm and teasing.
He can scoot all he wants? Women had a reputation for being hard to figure out and now he knew why.
Sierra glanced away. “Oh, Em. There’s your dad and Gina.” Three rows ahead of them, the couple he met at the hospital found their way to an empty spot.
“Can I go sit with them?” Emory gave her mom a pleading look.
“Sure, honey.” Sierra held her daughter’s hand as Emory stepped across the benches, then she sat back down and caught Ross’s gaze on her again. A smile budded on her lips. “You look incredibly handsome, Ross. Black does great things for you.”
“Thanks.” He held her stare and the pink in her cold cheeks brightened.
A shy smile crept over her lips, but she kept her eyes on his. “It’s so cold in here. Could you, um, would you warm up my hands?”
“Excuse me?”
“Never mind.” The color in her cheeks grew darker and she looked down, her dark hair swinging forward, shielding her face from him.
He heard Sid snort beside him, but when he glanced at the man, his face was carefully neutral.
She did look cold. Ross held out his hand and she placed one icy hand in it. He slowly rubbed it between his hands, and she seemed to relax some. “Better?”
“Mmm. You could toast bread in your hands.”
He chuckled and reached for her other hand. When it seemed as toasty as the first one, her fingers curled over to entwine with his. He darted a glance at her, but she was still staring into the arena. Her thumb started to rub over his in a gentle circle. A day ago, she hadn’t wanted to kiss him, but now she wanted to hold his hand? He needed some fresh air.
“I’m going to check on Braden.” He stood, letting her hand slide from his, and stepped over Sid’s outstretched leg. At the bottom of the arena, he stuck his hands in his pockets and walked over to lean against the wall.
What was going on? Yesterday, Sierra had made it clear he’d crossed a line. But today he was getting a whole different vibe. Maybe he was reading into it too much. Nervous as she was with horses, maybe she wanted to be near him for comfort. As a friend. Someone who cared for her son as she did.
Ross didn’t do more than study Braden waiting for his turn, and when the horses started filing for the ring, he climbed back into the stands. The space between Sierra and Sid seemed narrower than when he left. He sat down, pinched between the two of them. Funny how Sid’s thigh wasn’t nearly as warm against his as Sierra’s.
The horses lined up across the arena, Braden’s third from the end. The first girl in line walked her horse halfway across the ring toward a waiting man.
The stands grew quiet and Sierra leaned close, her breath warm on his cheek. “What are they doing?”
Ross turned, but she hadn’t moved and her face was tantalizingly close, her eyes warm pools that focused intently on his. He cleared his throat. “This is showmanship. Each exhibitor will take a turn walking out to the judge there in the center and stand the horse square for inspection. The judge will ask some questions and then the exhibitor will have his horse do a 180-degree haunch turn and then jog him back to the lineup.”
When the fourth exhibitor had jogged back to his starting position, Sierra put her hand on his arm and leaned against his shoulder to whisper. “Why is Chance standing like that?”
Ross leaned forward as if studying the horse and put some breathing distance between him and Sierra. The old horse’s head was lowered and a back leg cocked, with the tip of the hoof resting on the ring floor. “He’s sleeping.”
Sierra swung her head toward him. “Will Braden lose points?”
He pulled his eyes from hers and focused on the horses below them. “No. Older horses do that sometimes. The judges don’t penalize them.”
When Braden walked Chance to the center of the ring, Sierra started chewing on a fingernail. She leaned into Ross, her eyes never leaving her son. “Is he doing okay?”
“Yeah, he’s doing fine,” he said, feeling the soft weight of her arm pressing against his. And Braden was. The haunch turn wasn’t the prettiest, but it worked.
Sierra had a million questions as they waited through the Western equitation and other events before the flag race. And the questions came with sparkling eyes, soft touches, and a smile that could knock a man off his feet. He needed to get out of there.
Finally the barrel and its flag mounted in a coffee can were arranged at the far end of the arena.
Her hand touched his and she pointed to Braden waiting for his turn. “He looks nervous.”
Braden held Chance’s reins too tight, and the horse started backing toward a bay gelding behind him. The girl, Nissa, laid a hand on Braden’s leg and spoke to him. Chance stopped and Braden leaned forward and relaxed his hands.
Finally, Braden and Chance jogged to the starting line. Sierra leaned forward, rigid, her fingers finding Ross’s and tightening around them.
Braden and Chance made a few warm-up circles to gain speed, then took off between the starting poles and flew toward the barrel. Braden rounded it perfectly, grabbed the flag, and kicked back toward the finish line and across, flag held high. He nodded toward the judge and jogged toward the edge of the arena.
Sierra ripped her hand from Ross’s and started clapping. She stood and gave an ear splitting whistle, shocking the daylights out of Ross, but it caught Braden’s attention and he looked toward the stand, his face proud as he exited the building.
Sierra sat down, her face animated. “Did you see that?” She leaned past his chest, one hand on his knee. “Mom! Wasn’t he great?”
Abbey was clapping with a proud-grandma smile on her face. “Oh, honey. He was just wonderful.”
Sierra squeezed Ross’s knee and grinned at him, her eyes sparkling, her face way too close to his. “Do you think he was fast enough to place?”
Ross nodded and tried to look away, but he couldn’t seem to tear his eyes from hers. He managed to say, “I’d be surprised if he didn’t get at least a red ribbon.”
Sid dipped his head toward them. “That boy could join a rodeo.”
Sierra leaned across him again. “I haven’t served you a rutabaga yet, Sid Barrows, but if you mention rodeo to Braden, you’ll have them coming out your ears.”
That got a guffaw from the old man.
Ross cleared his throat as Sierra settled back into her seat and glanced at his watch. Only one more event to get through, and the coordinators were finally starting to set it up.
Sierra turned to him, her hand burning into his knee, her smile warm. “What are they doing now?”
Ross cleared his throat again and shifted on the seat, but her hand didn’t budge. “This is the trail course. The rider has to show that his horse will remain calm at each of the obstacles he comes to. They get points for how well they do.”
She nodded, her eyes never leaving his. “Oh.”
He broke eye contact and turned back to the ring, watching the setup, something he’d seen hundreds of times.
Braden was the fifth exhibitor. He walked Chance across the bridge and up to the mailbox. Chance stood quietly as Braden opened the box, removed the mail, waved it at the judge, and then returned it to the box. He jogged the horse over several poles, then tried to back Chance between four poles position
ed in a difficult “L” shape, but Braden couldn’t get him to back right and the gray horse stepped over a pole.
Sierra started chewing her fingernail, a worried frown in her profile.
Braden zigzagged him beautifully between four cones. The only obstacle left was a freestanding gate.
Ross bent toward Sierra. “He’ll do a side pass, which will get Chance to stand still next to the gate so Braden can open it.”
But Chance wasn’t cooperating. The horse wanted to stop in front of the gate. When Braden clucked him forward, the horse kept going past it. Braden took him in a circle back to the gate. Again Chance stopped in front of it. Braden looked like he was squeezing his legs, but Chance wouldn’t move. Instead, he just reached his head forward, lifted his big hairy lips, and took the bolt between his teeth and slid it to the side, then nudged the gate open with his nose and walked through.
“No way!” Ross raised from his seat. Chance opened the gate? He swung toward Sierra, who stood next to him, hands over her mouth.
Sierra’s eyes laughed up at him over her hands. She socked him in the shoulder, then ran her knuckles down his sleeve. “And all this time, you blamed us!”
The crowd erupted in laughter as Braden looked toward the judge and shrugged his shoulders.
Sierra wrapped one arm around Ross’s waist and leaned into him, laughing. “Can you believe that, Ross?”
There were several things he couldn’t believe at that moment. But as a pair of big brown eyes slid from his, he decided he was going to find out why.
Sierra chewed her nail and followed the broad black-clad shoulders out of the stands. Ross had barely looked at her during the events. Maybe she’d misread him yesterday and the kiss was just an impulsive thank-you.
Ross stopped, his back solid and set as he spoke abruptly to her mother. “Can you watch the kids for a second, Abbey?”
“Sure. We’ll just walk Sid to the pickup.”
Ross took Sierra’s arm and rushed her ahead of her family, then outdoors around the side of the arena.
He stopped by a secluded corner of the building under an overhang, confusion and a hint of anger in his face. “What were you doing in there?”
“What do you mean?” She couldn’t look at him.
His voice was intense. “You know what I mean. It was like you were flirting.”
“I made a huge mistake, okay?” She felt like an utter fool. “I’m sorry, Ross. Can we just go—”
He looked perplexed. “Were you flirting with me?
“It was a lame attempt, but you don’t have to worry about it happening again.”
He took a step closer, his voice low. “Why, Sierra?”
She looked over his shoulder at a stand of trees, limbs bare and naked, exposed to the elements. Pretty much how she felt right at that minute. She cleared her throat and moved back a step, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I thought …”
He took a step closer. She was having a difficult time breathing. She stared down at the silver zipper of his jacket inches from her face. A gentle finger touched her cheekbone and moved down along her jaw. His thumb brushed back and forth across her chin. “Because when a woman flirts it usually means something.”
She kept staring at his coat zipper. “And what does it mean?”
“It means she’s interested.” A heartbeat of a pause. “Are you interested in me, Sierra?”
She lifted her gaze. His eyes were warm pools of chocolate that she wanted to melt into. “Very much.”
“Then I’m asking, Sierra.”
She tilted her face toward his. “Asking for what?”
“This.” He bent and his lips traced hers, whisper light, then stilled. “May I?”
She breathed the words into his mouth. “Yes.”
His lips moved gently over hers, then his arms drew her closer as he deepened the kiss.
He raised his head slightly. “That was the longest 4-H clinic I have ever sat through.” He gave her another quick kiss and wrapped an arm around her shoulder as they started back for the parking lot.
“It wasn’t easy for me, either!” She reached up and linked her fingers through his. “But worth it?”
He pulled her close against his side. “What do you think?”
She looked up, her eyes catching on his warm gaze. “Definitely.” She looked toward her family, who stood near the trailer where Braden was loading Chance, and smiled.
Sometimes you have to let the fear catch up to let it go.
… a little more …
When a delightful concert comes to an end,
the orchestra might offer an encore.
When a fine meal comes to an end,
it’s always nice to savor a bit of dessert.
When a great story comes to an end,
we think you may want to linger.
And so, we offer ...
AfterWords—just a little something more after you
have finished a David C. Cook novel.
We invite you to stay awhile in the story.
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• A Conversation with Sherri Sand
A Conversation with Sherri Sand
How did you come up with the characters in your book?
They came to me. When I saw Sierra, I knew she was a mom who deeply loved her kids and wanted the best for them. Elise was so fun to write with her over-the-top ways. When she drove up to Sierra’s and pushed her ooga horn, I knew I was going to love her. And Sid is such a dear and reminds me so much of my father-in-law, Art. And Ross, how could you not love him?
Do you have a horse?
No, but I love horses and desperately wanted one as a child. I did end up with a little Shetland pony named Sundance that I would gallop through the mint fields around our house. I spent countless hours sprawled across him backwards reading books. One time he’d apparently had enough of the dead weight on his back and he lay down. It was a shocking end to my reading time.
What do you do when you’re not writing?
I love spending time with my family. We go camping as many weekends as we can in the summer. I also love to run. My husband recently got into running and we were asked to be on a team that participates in a race from Mt. Hood to the coast of Oregon. It generally takes about twenty-two hours, so our idea of fun may be a little warped.
What would you suggest to someone who wants to become an author?
Start attending writers’ conferences. And if cost is an issue, order tapes or CDs of the various workshops. Also join a critique group and really listen to the feedback. When I get input from my critiquing partners, I make a point to set aside any defensiveness and adopt a thicker skin. It’s not fun to find out that every word you write isn’t brilliant, but if you take the comments constructively you’ll become a stronger writer.
How do you find time to write? Any tips for someone who is working full time?
Set a word count goal. I try to write 1,000 words a day, five days a week. If finding the extra time is difficult, start with 300 words a day. At that pace, you’d complete a full-length novel (80,000 words) in one year. But the most important factor in writing is to turn the editor in your head off. Writer’s block comes from trying to create and edit at the same time. Don’t wait for the perfect idea to come floating along. Start writing now. Write anything. You want to create the habit so the ideas will come. The fear of failure keeps us from giving feet to our dreams—true failure comes from not trying at all.
Did the theme of forgiveness/unforgiveness that Sierra deals with come from your own life?
In a way it did, though I didn’t consciously implement it into the novel. Like most of us living in this fallen world, there were a couple significant events in my life that I had difficulty forgiving. I finally realized that if I waited until I felt like forgiving, it would never happen. And I desperately needed to forgive. The bitterness was choking the life out of me. So with God’s help and through His gr
ace I made the choice to forgive and forgive and forgive. I wish I could say that there was instant peace and joy. Though I think that can happen for people, I’d lived in unforgiveness for so long that I had to continually make a choice to forgive until the freedom came. And when that freedom came, it was a wow moment for me!
In the story, Sierra has three young kids. You have four children. How successful are you at trusting God with their lives?
It’s been an ongoing process for me. Maybe because I’m a writer and have such a vivid imagination, I can always come up with the most gut-wrenching conclusions to the most innocuous circumstances involving my kids. That makes it hard to let go and trust. But how much control do we actually have over everyday life? I had to learn that before we can trust God with ourselves or our children, we have to truly know Him. It’s only in knowing God and His character that trust can develop. And when we truly know the God of the universe, we can trust Him with everything.
Ross worked hard in his landscaping business in an attempt to prove his value. Do you struggle with that?
It’s difficult not to get caught up in that. Our world is performance driven. Our praise of others is usually tied to something they’ve accomplished. Even with our children, we praise how well they unload the dishwasher or draw a picture or mind us. It’s difficult to find the words to value people for who they are, apart from anything they do. For most of my life, performance colored my relationship with God. I could not wrap my mind around the concept that He loved me despite less-than-perfect behaviors. Recently I glimpsed His grace from a new angle. Sin does create a righteous anger, but God’s anger was satisfied at the cross. So rather than His anger at our sinfulness, we have His pleasure in us. That has done wonders with my ability to be myself with Him, to honestly let His light shine on all parts of me—the good and the unsightly. When you bring your faults to God and discover He isn’t displeased, you can fully experience His compassion and love.
