Song of Her Heart (10 page)

So much for her plans for another summer, Norah thought as she sat opposite Mason.

“The summer is moving too fast for me,” Mason said and he reached across the table and lifted Norah's hand. “You've been here almost six weeks, and it's going to be time for you to leave before I'm ready for it. When you came, you were looking for answers of where to go from here. Have you reached any conclusions?”

Her fingers curled around his. “No, not really. I suppose I keep hoping that the summer will never end.”

“Then you do like it here.”

“Very much so. I like the work, and also the country, once I got used to the solitude.” Her eyelids fluttered downward. “And I like the people, too. You've been very kind to me, Mason.”

“That hasn't been hard to do. You're special to me, Norah. You've given a lift to my spirits that I haven't felt for years.”

He released her hand and walked around the table. “Ever since you've been here, I've wanted to kiss you. Would you mind very much if I kissed you now?”

Her eyes were still downcast, and she felt a flush spread over her face. She decided she shouldn't admit how often she wondered what it would be like to have his kiss.
This is your opportunity, Norah, don't muff it,
her thoughts prodded.

She lifted her head. “No, Mason, I wouldn't mind at all.”

Eagerly, he pulled her upward and squeezed her so hard that Norah gasped. Not since her teenage years had she been held in a man's arms, and she was nervous about it. But something in Mason's manner soothed her as he eased his grasp and held her as if she were a priceless item that he cherished.
At first, his heavy whiskers brushing against her face startled her. Then she felt a ripple of excitement as the slow caress of his lips on her cheek and mouth awakened emotions that had lain buried for years. The kiss seemed to envelop her, but she was sorry when he slowly lifted his head and stepped back.

Mason's lips moved as if he wanted to say something, but couldn't find the words. He leaned over her again and placed a soft kiss on her lips.

“Thank you, Norah, and good night.”

The room felt empty when Mason stepped outside and closed the door. Norah held a fist to her lips, wondering how much Mason's embrace would affect her plans for the future. Would any place she traveled to, at home or abroad, feel empty if Mason wasn't there?

O
n Monday morning, Sheila, Doug and Norah gathered at the Flying K ranch to help prepare for the July Fourth celebration. Norah and Sheila tackled the house—cleaned the windows, washed the curtains, scrubbed the floors, polished the woodwork and furniture.

“I clean the house for Mason every few weeks,” Sheila said, “but I only do a major cleaning once a year. It's nice to have some help doing it today.”

“The house is rather small and shouldn't take a long time. And it's a pleasure to work here. It's such a homey place. The first time I saw the house, it seemed to welcome me.”

“A lot of living has taken place within these walls. The two bedrooms and bathroom are in the
original house where Mason's grandparents lived. His dad modernized the place, and added this large all-purpose room before he died. It's a comfortable home, and being a one-floor layout, it's easy to keep warm and cozy in the winter.”

“The house at the Bar 8 is probably hard to heat.”

“Yes, it is. That's one reason Mason wants to sell the place. The upkeep is expensive. When we moved to the Bar 8, we chose to take the small house because our utilities cost much less there.”

“I like the house though,” Norah said. “It reminds me of my home in Missouri, which I'm also selling because I can't afford the upkeep.”

“If you sell it, maybe you can buy the Bar 8.”

“I'd be jumping out of the frying pan into the fire. If Mason can't afford the place, I surely can't. I must find a job of some kind as soon as the summer is over.”

“We like having you for a neighbor,” Sheila said with a sly glance in Norah's direction. “You and Mason might go into partnership on the Bar 8.”

Norah gave strict attention to the chair she was polishing. What kind of partnership was Sheila suggesting? Did she suspect the spark that flared between Norah and Mason each time they met? Norah wouldn't look at Sheila, fearful her face would betray the secret of her heart.

Hearing a mower move by the window, Norah said, “Sounds like Doug is getting the grass mown.”

“Yes, he's doing that while Mason digs the pit for the ox-roast. Ever tasted pit-roasted beef?”

“No.”

“It's delicious. Why don't you take a break and go watch what Mason's doing? It's an interesting process, and he'd probably welcome a glass of lemonade about now.”

“It would be a relief to be out in the fresh air. This scented furniture polish is a bit overpowering.”

Following the sound of the tractor, Norah found Mason behind the machinery shed, using a front-end loader to dig the pit. He waved to her, and she held up the glass of lemonade. He smiled and nodded his head. She watched as he finished the pit that looked about eight feet long and half as wide. When he stopped the tractor, Norah peered down into the pit that was over five feet deep.

“Thought you might be thirsty.”

Wiping his forehead with a bandana, he said, “Thirsty and hot! Come sit here in the shade of the barn.” They leaned their backs against the silo, and he took the glass and downed half of the liquid in one long swallow.

“Looks like I should have brought the whole pitcher. How much more do you have to do?”

“That's all the digging with the front-end loader, but I'll use a shovel and make the sides straight, so the dirt won't crumble after we start the fire.”

“Sounds like a lot of work, but Sheila says the finished product is worth it.”

“You're right on both counts. About two days before the ox-roast, I'll pile some wood into the pit, start burning it and keep adding fuel until there's a thick bed of coals. About midnight the day before the picnic, we'll put the meat on the coals.”

“How much beef?”

“I took a steer to the butcher, and I don't know how much it weighed, but he'll cut the best part of the beef into six-pound pieces, and we'll roast enough to feed about a hundred people. Doug's mother will bake two roasts in a conventional oven, shred the meat and barbeque it. The rest we'll slice and serve on buns or just on the plate. The butcher will make the rest into hamburger, or smaller roasts, and I'll have lots of meat for the freezer.”

“I'm looking forward to tasting it. Thinking about the feast that's coming, the potato soup I prepared for lunch doesn't sound very appetizing.”

“If you made it, I'll like it,” Mason assured her. “I'm ready to eat.”

They moved back into the house and settled down to lunch. While they ate a leisurely lunch, Sheila said, “Norah, we'll have to figure out a costume for
you. Mom said you're welcome to wear some of the outfits she has. She and Dad are coming for supper tonight, and she'll bring several dresses.”

“Don't spend a lot of time finding something for me to wear. Surely some people come in ordinary clothes? Everyone will know I'm a visitor.”

“It's more fun if you're in costume,” Sheila insisted.

The next morning, Sheila came to the Bar 8 ranch house with several plastic garment bags.

“Here you are,” she said. “Take your pick.”

The choice lay between a Sioux maiden's buckskin outfit, the gaudy dress of a dance hall girl and a calico prairie dress with a matching bonnet.

“The choice isn't hard,” Norah said, laughing. “I don't have the features to portray a Sioux woman, and I can imagine how I'd look in that dance hall dress. I'll be more comfortable in the prairie woman's outfit.”

“I figured that would be your choice,” Sheila said, “but Mom insisted I bring all of them. By the way,” she added, “we need some more songs for the party. Mason is coming tonight so we can practice.”

 

Wednesday evening, Norah went with Doug and Sheila to the Flying K to help prepare the meat for roasting. The butcher had wrapped fifteen roasts in
two thicknesses of butcher's paper, to which they added two thicknesses of aluminum foil, and wrapped it all in four layers of newspapers.

After that, the packets were bound with stainless-steel wire, dipped into a tub of water and quickly laid on top of the hot coals about a foot below ground level. Doug placed a flat piece of steel on the packages, and he and Mason quickly shoveled eighteen inches of dirt on top of the steel plate.

It was quite late when all the preparations were finished and the Johnsons and Norah left the Flying K.

“There'll be a lot of vehicles at the party,” Sheila volunteered when they dropped Norah off at the Bar 8 ranch house. “If you like, we'll stop by and get you in the morning.”

“Fine.”

Norah both anticipated and dreaded meeting Mason's neighbors. Because of the quiet life she'd lived, it was hard for Norah to move out of her comfort zone. She was at ease with the few people she'd met since she'd arrived in Nebraska, but she was a little anxious about being introduced to seventy or more people. The Sand Hills seemed deserted when you drove along the highway, but many ranch headquarters were located several miles off the main roads. Obviously, the neighbors didn't socialize
much, so anyone who lived in this area would have to become accustomed to solitude. Could she?

 

They arrived at the ranch at seven o'clock to make last-minute preparations. Mason put his hands on Norah's shoulders and held her off to take a good look at her blue calico dress and sunbonnet. “You look as pretty as a picture,” he said, heedless of the amused glances of Sheila and Doug.

Norah blushed a little at his compliment, but she said, “Thank you. But I don't feel like myself. I'd rather have spent the day in shorts or pants, but I bowed to custom.”

Mason didn't look any different than usual, because the ranchers still dressed much like they had in pioneer days. Admittedly, Mason's name-brand jeans and hand-tooled boots were more expensive than his ancestors might have worn, but otherwise, his attire could easily have been used a century earlier.

Doug's parents came before the other guests, and Norah enjoyed meeting this couple who had known Mason all of his life.

Clapping Paul Johnson fondly on the back, Mason said to Norah, “This man knows everything there is to know about me, but I hope he doesn't tell all he knows.”

“Yeah,” Paul said, his eyes crinkling in his
weathered skin. “We played hooky from school more than once, and we stood up with each other at our weddings. We've been through a lot together. I could tell you lots of things, and most of them are good.”

Norah felt a little self-conscious standing beside Mason in the ranch yard, shaking hands with, and greeting, the guests, almost as if she were Mason's wife. Did she detect a measure of pride in Mason's voice as he introduced her to his neighbors?

What would her life be like if she could stand by this man's side until death parted them? Did she really love Mason? She hoped not, for her heart still beckoned toward an overseas mission ministry. But at other times, she wished she could give her full-time devotion to Mason. Norah had a divided heart, and it was making her miserable.

Although Mason tried to hide the fact, he was so proud to have Norah beside him, he could have pitched his hat into the air and shouted a jubilee. Since his father's death, he'd stood alone to greet his neighbors. He suddenly remembered the scene in the Garden of Eden when God had provided a mate for Adam. God said, “It is not good that man should be alone.”

Of course, Eve had always been blamed for bringing a lot of trouble to Adam, but the pleasure of having Norah beside him convinced Mason that Eve
had brought Adam more happiness than trouble. If God said that man shouldn't live alone, Mason King had wasted a lot of years.

By midmorning, the fields surrounding the ranch house were crowded with vehicles, and neighbors excitedly visited on this rare occasion when they could all get together.

The first event of the day was judging the whisker-growing contest, and when Norah saw some of the other ranchers, she knew Mason didn't have a chance of winning. He didn't even place among the top ten contestants, whose whiskers looked like brush piles.

Mason's hands threaded the heavy beard on his own face, and whispered to Norah, “Never again! I can't wait until tomorrow when I'll gladly take up shaving again.”

Sheila came in second place with her Calamity Jane outfit, and shouted with laughter when her prize was a piggy bank that squealed when you tried to remove any money.

“I wish I'd known there was such a gadget,” Doug shouted. “I'd have bought one for her when we got married.”

The guests had brought lawn chairs, and after the judging, and awarding of trophies, they gathered around two well-laden hay wagons that Mason had
placed beside two large cottonwood trees in the pasture, trees that his grandmother had planted.

After lunch, there were horse races for all ages, and Norah was amazed at the skill of very young children. There was even a greenhorn race, which Doug tried to persuade Norah to enter, but she absolutely refused. She'd embarrass herself as well as Mason if she exhibited her poor horsemanship before his neighbors.

The guests stayed through the supper hour, still enjoying the succulent roast beef and other foods left over from the noon meal. The fireworks were to be the last event of the day. But before darkness fell, the newly formed quartet presented their special music, which was well received by the audience.

The fireworks, ably administered by a firm from Omaha, spread a vivid display of lights across the prairie sky, bringing the day to a spectacular close. When the last sparkling burst of light flashed across the heavens, the ranchers headed for home, for although it was the start of the July Fourth weekend, for ranchers it was a workday like any other.

When no one was left except for Doug and Sheila, Norah and Mason, Sheila sat down on the porch floor with a sigh.

“Boy, am I glad that's over for another year!”

“You can be a guest next year, and that doesn't take so much work,” Norah said.

“No such luck. My parents will be hosting next year.”

“But you love it,” Doug said.

“Sure do! Well, let's go home,” Sheila said. “Ready, Norah?”

Mason cleared his throat. “You might as well stay a while, Norah. I'll take you to the Bar 8 later on this evening.”

“Well, it can't get much later than this,” Doug said, looking at his watch. “It's almost midnight.”

Mason didn't reply to Doug's good-natured wisecrack, so he and Sheila climbed into their truck and whirled out of the driveway.

“Hope you didn't mind staying,” Mason said as they sat together on the cushioned glider. “It takes a while for me to unwind after such a shindig, and I wanted company. Did you enjoy yourself?”

“Yes, I did. It was a totally new experience for me. You have wonderful neighbors.”

“Is it a place you could settle down and live?” Mason asked, not looking at her. “You're at loose ends now, so you might want to relocate to the Sand Hills.”

His comment startled Norah. Mason knew she needed to work to make a living. He also knew she wanted to go to college and ultimately to the mission field. What was he implying? If Norah had an an
swer to that question, she might also be able to find answers to many other things that plagued her.

Could she have mistaken God's call? If God had wanted her to be a missionary, wouldn't He have made the way easy for her? She'd lived a life of service for her family. Would God put His approval on a new life with Mason? It was a difficult question.

“Don't answer if you'd rather not,” Mason prompted.

“I like the people, and I'm getting used to the solitude, but I have many things to sort out in my mind and heart.”

“Norah, have you been in contact with your family since you've been here?”

She was silent for a moment, but she shook her head. “No. I didn't leave a forwarding address. The Realtor who's listing my house is a friend of the family, and he knows where I am. I telephoned him and gave him the telephone number at the Bar 8 so he could contact me. If my family wants to get in touch with me, they can find out where I am. I'm not sure they want any further contact with me, and I won't push myself on them.”