by Lori Wick
,,'Ieaa
spao aqa paeue alaaeq aH .'saop a 'saX,'
aq[le aaej 2aq 'mq plOa epuaa ,,'aaqaoaq *m no salem
aaq paggnq ae aseI aV "eads a,uplnoa aqs ilnJ os aaeaq uo aaq 'amn guoI e aoj aSOla aaq plaq oq 'age oa aua aqs smae s,daeD moad
o aaq aaI oa passe uaaq p?q Jr auop aaa. p?q guqa asapaeq aq pIno a! aeqa poD oa paaarmpe peq aq pue 'Waj os
liras se .qg "aaplnoqs alaa!I aaq asuege AIp.eqseun paraa XaeD pue 'smae sq oau z epu?
.-ou pep anoX ,I,, ,,ou pep Xm aa,nox,'
saeaa qar urpoo saXa srq 'aaq ploa XaeD ,,'le? aod,, ,Aleaa aod,' -uado IlaJ qanom alaI s,epuaa
,,'uelaeH
are pue XaeD aae sauaaed aaq aeqa pue 'ueaaeH
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For I am confident of this very thing, that He who began a good work in you will perfect it until the day of Christ Jesus.
Philippians 1:6
Shasta McGregor, dressed in well-worn jeans, boots, and a light cotton shirt, stepped down from the cab of the truck and followed her boss, Morgan Clark, into the largest saddle shop in Brisbane, Australia.
"I think you need a change," Morgan told her, continuing the conversation that had begun in the truck.
"I changed just before we left the ranch," Shasta
told him dryly, ignoring his real meaning.
"Iwant you to leave Burbarra."
Shasta's wry humor fled, and she stopped in an aisle filled with horse blankets and various tack, forcing Morgan to stop with her. His gray head was turned in her direction, and for a moment Shasta couldn't say anything. Leave Burbarra? Could he be serious? Morgan
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owned Burbarra, a huge sheep ranch outside of Dalby
and her home for the last 11 years.
"You're firing me.''
"No," he said gently, wishing his wife, Peg, had accompanied them. "i'm suggesting some time away. You're thin and pale, and I think it stems from a fear that you're going to run into Frank and DeeDee every Sunday at church or each time we come into town. I saw the way you tensed when that green Ford truck went by, and it wasn't even Frank's. If you left here,
you wouldn't have that anxiety."
"Leave DurDarra.
"Not just Burbarra," he said quietly, his eyes watching her carefully. "Australia."
Again Shasta stared at him before saying very slowly, "Andjust where, Morgan, do you suggest I go.''
"California," her boss replied without a moment's hesitation.
"The United States!" Shasta exclaimed in horror, staring at Morgan as if he'd taken leave of his senses.
Morgan's mouth tugged into a smile. "Come now, Shasta, it's not Outer Mongolia."
"It might as well be," Shasta said with a shake of her blonde head, and for a time they dropped that particular topic of conversation.
Morgan's supplies were being loaded into the rear of the truck when Shasta asked, "Why California?"
"Because I have a mate there. He runs several cattle ranches, one of which doubles as a vacation ranch during the summer months. I know he would value a rider with your experience and way with people."
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"I'm not interested," Shasta told him flatly, and Morgan let it go.
They made several more stops: Morgan went to the barber, and Shasta worked at filling a list Peg had sent with her. After a late lunch, they were back on the road to Burbarra. Morgan had not referred to California since they left the saddle shop, but knowing they would be in the truck for hours, he no longer hesitated.
"I think you should consider it."
Shasta didn't feign ignorance. "Oh, Morgan," she spoke softly. "I can't imagine leaving here. This year has been painful enough without adding a separation to my load."
Morgan had no immediate answer to this, so they both fell silent, their minds reflecting back to last December and this February.
Just before Christmas, Frank Iverson, a wonderful Christian man Shasta had been seeing for more than a year, asked her to be his wife. Believing for many months that this was the man God had willed for her, Shasta had accepted with ajoyful heart.
However, in February, not even two months later, a woman Frank had not seen in ten years moved back into the area. Shasta had not been worried; after all, she and Frank loved each other and were scheduled to be married on July 29. But Shasta had been wrong. Frank had come to her at the end of February and said that seeing DeeDee Wharton again had changed everything. He said that it would be a lie for him to pretend that nothing was wrong. He could not marry Shasta when his feelings had changed so much.
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Shasta had not begged him to reconsider or lashed out in anger. She just quietly returned the ring. A month later, at the end of March, Frank and DeeDee were married in a very private ceremony. It was now the end of April, and Shasta still thought about Frank all day, every day. There was no bitterness in her heart, but Morgan was right, she was hurting in a way that felt akin to mourning and thought she would continue to do so for many months.
"Let me give him a call, Shasta."
"Who?" This time she didn't really know.
"Kyle Harrington, the man who owns and runs the Harrington Cattle Company. His vacation ranch is in Fort Ross, right off the Pacific coast. Peg and I were there years ago. It's a beautiful spot, and I think a job there for the summer might act as a type of balm for the hurt you're feeling."
Shasta opened her mouth to protest yet again, but Morgan forestalled her with a gentle hand on her arm.
"Just think about it, Shasta, and do some praying. Peg and I are not trying to push you away. In fact, Peg cried last night just at the thought of your leaving. I'm suggesting this for you. Will you at least give it some thought?"
"Yes," Shasta agreed quietly. She was a reasonable, levelheaded woman, and besides that, she would do just about anything for Morgan or Peg Clark.
The remainder of the ride home was uneventful, but that suited Shasta very well. She had a great amount of thinking to do, and quiet was just what she needed.
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One month later a sober Peg stood next to Shasta at the Brisbane airport. Morgan had gone off to find some cups of tea. Peg had so much to say, but nothing would come.
Finally, "You will come back, won't you, Shasta." "You know I will," she said simply. "I'll come after you if you don't." Peg tried to keep her voice light but couldn't quite manage it.
"Why wouldn't I, Peg." Shasta shifted in her seat to look up at the older woman.
"Oh, Shasta," Peg nearly groaned. "You're a lovely girl who's lived in the outback for years. I despaired that you would even recognize an eligible male if you saw one. Then when one did come into your life, you fell headfirst into love, but he didn't know a good thing when he had it and broke your heart."
Shasta wasn't hurt by Peg's words. She thought she understood, but when she spoke, her voice was more than a little dubious concerning Peg's theory.
"Let me get this straight. You're sure that some American bloke is going to think I'm a walking dream and propose on the spot, and I'll never come back to Australia because I'll have stars in my eyes and forget where I'm from, right."
Peg sighed. Her eyes searched the face of this young woman who was like a daughter to her. In so doing, she felt something clench around her heart. Shasta was lovely, but she'd never known it and never needed or tried to do anything to enhance it. Her dark blonde hair was thick and fell in a fat braid down her
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back. Wispy bangs sat gently against her brow. Technically her chin was too stubborn, but even that was redeemed by the largest pair of brown eyes Peg had ever seen and high cheekbones that were always a rosy pink.
"Just promise you'll return, Shasta," she managed at last. "At least for a visit. Say you'll come back."
Seeing how serious she really was, Shasta nodded and the women hugged. Morgan appeared with mugs of tea just minutes later, but no one could drink a drop. All too soon her flight was called, and the Clarks hugged
their precious Shasta one last time. Feeling much younger than her 32 years, Shasta forced herself to walk away and not look back. She had prayed long and hard about this and felt a true peace, but a tiny corner of her heart couldn't help but wonder if she might be making the biggest mistake of her life.
Shasta had never been so disoriented in her whole life as she was when the huge Qantas airplane finally touched down at the San Francisco International Airport. She was feeling sick with exhaustion at the thought that she still had to go through customs. The service had been fine, and her seat had been comfortable, but who would have thought a flight could be so long?
Having been to baggage claim and through customs, her fine leather saddle seemed to weigh a ton, but she made herself push on, exiting the building to wait outside for the bus that would take her farther north.
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With an effort she fought back tears of fatigue. She heaved her bag over one shoulder, her saddle over the other, and in less than 20 minutes was sitting aboard a large bus. She had seen only three miles' worth of sights in the San Francisco Bay area when she fell sound asleep, her head against the window.
Shasta didn't change buses until Santa Rosa. There was a bit of a wait, but her spirits perked up some when she had a strong cup of tea and saw that the bus would be delivering her out to the Fort Ross
area around 4:00 P,M. Morgan had said she was
expected on the twenty-sixth, and she thought it would give a poor impression to arrive a day late.
The ride out to the coast was wonderful. The landscape turned very hilly with scrub brush in all directions. Sheep and large lambs dotted the hillsides, and Shasta ached to get near them. The bus let her off about a mile from the ranch, and after Shasta had asked directions of the bus driver, she started out on foot. Her limbs were giving her trouble by the time she reached the gate that read Harrington Cattle Company, but knowing that a job and a hot meal would be waiting for her at the other end, she pushed
on.
Kyle Harrington's head went back in agony as his fingers were smashed between the bull and the wall, but no words came from his mouth. He gasped slightly as he began to think that his newest hand, a young woman who had come highly recommended, had never
214 been near a cattle ranch, let alone worked with large animals.
"The rope was pinching me," JoAnn whined when she saw his look of pain.
"Was it?" Kyle's voice was amazingly calm, but his fingers were still throbbing, and they still had not secured his largest bull. The animal was not vicious or wild, but he was huge, and it helped to have an extra hand.
"Yes. Are you hurt?" she asked belatedly.
"Yes," he admitted as the pain eased slightly, "but I'll
live." He swung around and moved toward his foreman. "Brian?" "Yeah, boss."
"See what you can do with that bull. JoAnn can help you."
Brian gave him a long-suffering look, but Kyle ignored it and made his way from the barn area to the ranch office. His right hand was still throbbing, and he knew he had to put some distance between himself and JoAnn before he spoke with her about what he expected from his employees. He also needed to make a phone call to the hotel. He was halfway across the dirt expanse when he spotted a small blonde woman with a saddle and kit bag. He stopped when she spoke.
"Excuse me, could you tell me where I might find Mr. Harrington?"
"I'm Kyle Harrington," he said, his mind barely registering her accent.
Shasta smiled and put her hand out. Kyle forgot himself and offered his right one. Shasta had always enjoyed a firm handshake, and now that she was nervous, it was a
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THE RANCHER'S LADY
little stronger than usual. An odd look passed over Mr. Harrington's face, but Shasta didn't catch it.
"I'm Shasta McGregor. I believe you're expecting
me."
Kyle studied her through his pain and was not impressed. She was a tiny thing, built like JoAnn and looking just as helpless. He also thought it rather presumptuous
of her to bring her saddle.
"From Australia?"
"Yes. I hope I'm not too late."
"Hardly," Kyle said softly. "I was not expecting you until the twenty-sixth."
Shasta blinked at him. "This is the twenty-sixth." "No," he spoke slowly, "it's not. It's the twenty- fifth, and I don't have time to speak to you until tomorrow. You can come to my office at eight o'clock." He turned and started away.
"Eight tomorrow morning." Shasta said to his retreating back.
Kyle turned back very slowly, all the while praying that he would keep control of his emotions.
"Yes," he replied with a deliberate calm that sounded just a bit menacing. "Eight tomorrow morning. Is there some problem with that?"
There was every problem with it, but Shasta shook her head no and watched him walk away. She glanced around at the beautiful ranch house, office, and barns but couldn't find it in her heart to appreciate any of them. How could she have gotten the days mixed up?
Kyle Harrington was gone now, but Shasta found herself staring at the door he'd disappeared through for
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a moment longer. With a deep sigh, she hoisted her bag once again, her saddle now dangling from her hand. The driveway seemed twice as long on the way back down, but she went anyway. She'd had enough American currency to buy a bus ticket to Fort Ross but no more. What in the world was she going to do.
Kyle's voice had been a study in gentleness, but JoAnn was in tears after five minutes' worth of consul tation.
"I can't help it," she cried, "I've never done this type of work before."
Kyle's heart sank with dread, but his voice was still kind. "But you said you were experienced with ranch work."
"In the office," she sobbed. "I worked in the office at Sea Ranch. I've never been around cows or horses."
Kyle took in her pretty face and thick blonde hair and wondered how much of the recommendation had hinged on her looks. At the same time he handed JoAnna box of tissues. She sobbed for several more minutes, and then Kyle, telling himself he had no one to blame since he'd allowed someone else to hire her, gently mapped out what he would be needing for the remainder of the summer.
JoAnn looked horrified at times, and Kyle couldn't help but wonder what she thought they did on a ranch. He told her that when the guests started arriving in just ten days, she would be handling some of them, but by now she seemed too upset to take it in. They were already late for supper, so Kyle let her go. He was
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hungry as well and very tired. He ate and went to bed without giving Shasta McGregor another thought.
Shasta woke with a start and it took an instant for her to figure out why her back and neck ached. She felt the leather of her saddle under her cheek and finally understood. She sat up with a groan and looked down at her dusty clothes. Her first night in America had not gone the way she'd planned.
After leaving the ranch, she'd walked down the road for a time and then realized that even if she did walk back to the small town of Jenner, she hadn't money to buy a thing. With this in mind she began to look for a place to bed down for the night. There were many possibilities, and long before dark, Shasta was settled in behind a large rock that sheltered her from the wind. It wasn't the softest bed she'd ever had, but it would do.
She'd woken often in the night, but that was better than sleeping through and not being able to move at all in the morning. Each time she'd stirred, she forced herself to move around and stretch her limbs. By the time she slept for the last time she was feeling pretty good. However, it now felt as if she'd overslept. She tried to gauge the time by the sun but only felt disoriented. She realized then that she was still suffering from jet lag.
With a determined push she rose from the ground and gathered her gear. On rather stiff legs it took half an hour to gain the ranch, and already the sun was very hot. Shasta had taken time to comb her hair, but she knew she was dusty and sweaty and was n
ot sure it had been worth the effort. Having no idea what time it
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actually was, she knocked on the door she'd seen Mr. Harrington enter the afternoon before.
Brian stuck his head in the back door of Kyle's office
and spoke quietly to his employer. "JoAnn's gone." "She's what."
"Gone. Told Marcy she didn't think she could do the job and that she was leaving. A car just came for her."
Kyle nodded, not knowing if he was pleased or not. She had not been a good employee, but he was now shorthanded. Maybe I was shorthanded all alon he thought ruefully.
Jean, his secretary, took that instant to poke her head in as well.
"Shasta McGregor is here to see you."
Kyle glanced at his watch and frowned. She was half an hour late. Didn't anyone take their work seriously these days?
"Send her in," he finally said.
Both Brian and Jean disappeared, and a moment later a small, rather dusty woman stood inside his office door.
"Please, sit down," Kyle instructed from where he stood behind his desk, and Shasta didn't miss the cool tone of his voice. She'd left her saddle and bag in the front office, but she had a thin portfolio with her, and from that she withdrew some papers.
"These are my references and resume." Shasta passed him the spotless papers and sat back, thinking he would want to read them. However, even after he
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took them from her hand, he continued studying her. Shasta licked her lips in a nervous gesture and waited. It didn't take long.
"I might as well tell you up front, Miss McGregor; I'm not impressed."
Shasta's heart sank, but she remained silent. Why had Morgan led her to believe that the job was already hers?
"First you come a day early and now half an hour late. You've obviously taken very little time with your appearance, and I'll tell you the truth, if I didn't just have an employee quit on me, I'd probably be seeing you to the door."
Shasta nodded. What else could she do?
In truth, Kyle's estimation of her rose slightly when she didn't start to babble or try to offer excuses. He stared at her for a moment longer, thinking she was too young to be working for anyone, and then dropped his eyes to her resume. He read in silence until he got to her age.
