Song of Her Heart (9 page)

She laughed lightly, but Mason noticed that her hands were clenched tightly in her lap. No doubt she was thinking about how dark it would have been.

“Especially for the women!” Norah continued, staring straight ahead at the undulating grassland that stretched into infinity. “No doubt the man would have had the vision to take up new land, and
the wife would have followed his lead. There wouldn't have been any telephones, no doctors, no neighbors, no churches. I don't believe I'd have made a good pioneer.”

Although Mason normally gloried in the beauty of this area, for some reason, Norah's words depressed him. “It was a hard life, and many settlers couldn't stand it. They soon gave up their claims and moved back to civilization. I guess that's the reason I'm proud of my ancestors. They wanted land of their own and they suffered to get it.” He paused, his thoughts turning to the fact that he had no progeny to take the land his ancestors had struggled to settle. As he had many times before, Mason wished he'd remarried.

During the afternoon, as they toured the area where Mari Sandoz had lived as a child, and had immortalized the neighborhood in the biography of her father,
Old Jules,
Norah seemed to throw off the melancholy that had affected her as they'd traveled.

The Sandoz places had few visitors, so Mason and Norah were able to enjoy the museum that was a replica of Mari's studio in Greenwich Village. They walked to her grave, and again Norah thought of the isolation, wondering why the noted author chose such a lonely burial site.

To return home after leaving the Sandoz memorials, Mason turned eastward on Route 2 and trav
eled to the town of Thedford. From there, he accessed the Flying K ranch on Route 83.

Norah had a deep desire to fit into Mason's world, and she was uncomfortable that the open prairie still intimidated her. She was eager to have many of her doubts about the future erased, but after a month in Mason's company, her doubts had compounded instead of eased. When her work at the Bar 8 was finished and she left the Sand Hills, she wanted to feel good about all of her summer's experiences. The work with H & H was rewarding, and although cooking three meals a day wasn't the missionary work she'd envisioned, still she was “doing unto the least of these,” as Jesus had instructed His disciples. She believed her work at the Bar 8 fulfilled that command of Jesus.

She didn't doubt that she was doing God's will, but when she started to be satisfied with her life as it was, her thoughts turned to Mason. He was the hidden factor in her future. When God had directed her steps toward the Sand Hills, had Mason been a part of His plan for her? Or was he just a casual acquaintance to leave behind at summer's end?

M
ason placed his hand on her shoulder, and Norah roused out of reverie, realizing that they'd turned off the highway toward the ranches. “Thanks, Mason. It's been a nice day.”

“You've been so quiet the past several miles, I wasn't sure you enjoyed yourself.”

“Sorry I haven't been better company, but I'm not a very talkative person. I spend a lot of time alone with my thoughts.”

“I can understand that,” he said. “Sometimes I think I spend too much time thinking myself.”

For the past two weeks, he'd believed that Norah could become a permanent fixture in his life. But today he'd fretted because Norah seemed frightened of the environment. He'd assumed that she'd mas
tered her fear of the darkness, but now she seemed disturbed by the isolation of the area. On the other hand, Mason couldn't understand how anyone could exist in a city with people living all around them. Could country and city ever mix?

“Sheila told me that even now there are long periods of time in the winter when you can't leave the ranch.”

“Sometimes we have blizzards that close the highways. But I never mind that—it's a good opportunity to do work on the buildings.”

“And just think of all the knitting and quilting a person could accomplish during times like that,” Norah said lightly, so Mason decided she must not be as disturbed as he'd thought.

“You enjoy your needlework?”

“Yes. I had lots of time on my hands when I was taking care of my family, and I'm not one to sit with idle hands. I make items for mission hospitals and long-term care facilities in Missouri, as well as for my family and friends. I enjoy creating pretty things, and it's good therapy for my hands and mind.”

Dusk was falling when they arrived at the Bar 8, so Mason walked to the door with Norah and checked the downstairs to be sure all was safe. When he stepped out on the porch, Mason turned and came back to where Norah stood at the foot of the stairs. Without a word, he placed his hands on
her shoulders, bent and kissed her cheek. He pushed stray tendrils back from her face before he turned toward the door.

What an unpredictable man! Norah thought as he drove away. But unpredictable in a nice way. Even after she went to bed, Norah could still feel the warm touch of his lips.

 

Norah marveled at the change three weeks had made in the H & H riders. She spent some of her free time observing the work in the arena or on the outdoor trail course. The volunteers with more horse experience served as mount leaders, while others walked beside the riders to give physical support as needed, to ensure the safety of the children and to reinforce the instruction of the therapist.

Discussing the matter with Sheila, Norah said, “I'd like to do more than just cook for the riders, but I don't want to leave you with extra work. If you're interested in volunteering, we can coordinate our schedules.”

“I've been wondering how I could manage to help. I rode a horse long before I could drive a truck, but the H & H directors are very particular about how their horses are handled. But surely there's some way my horse sense can be put to use. Let's talk to Jim and see what we can do. I know they can use more help.”

Jim was enthusiastic about the prospect of more volunteers. “Oh, yes, I can use you! You can start out with grooming and tack, then practice with the trained mount leaders and sidewalkers.”

Sheila and Norah arranged to volunteer at least an hour with H & H each day, and the volunteer work left a deep impression on Norah. As she watched the blind children learning to trust their horses, she learned a lot to improve her own riding skills. The young riders seemed to gain confidence when she related that she'd only recently started learning how to ride a horse. She was gratified that she had learned a basic knowledge of riding from Mason, but as she helped the children, she continued to learn.

The wagon ride and campfire was planned for the Thursday night before the first group of children finished their course.

“This would be a good time to celebrate their accomplishments,” Jim Hanson said. “Carolyn and I will come up with some awards, so each one can take home a certificate. We'll present those around the campfire.”

“We can picnic in a grove of oak trees just around the bend in the river,” Sheila said. “It's not more than two miles—and a level, easy trail.”

“That will be perfect,” Jim said. “I think we should transport everyone by wagon. Some of the
children aren't up to riding that far yet, and it would be better to have all of them feel equal.”

“Doug and I will drive two wagons filled with plenty of hay,” Mason said when they discussed the plan with him.

“Sheila and I will go earlier than the rest of you and take the food by truck,” Norah said.

“No fair,” Doug joked. “I don't think you want to ride on the wagon. We're trying to make you into a country woman.”

“I've already had enough countrifying to last out the summer,” Norah assured him.

 

The Niobrara, a shallow stream with occasional sandbars, was wide at the curve in the river. The wind had been strong all day, but in the cove, only a slight breeze riffled the cottonwood leaves. Doug had gone earlier in the day to mow the grass at the picnic area and to arrange the wood for the fire. He'd also cut twigs from the willow bushes for the kids to use in roasting hot dogs and marshmallows.

Sheila and Norah set up several folding tables and chairs to provide seating. Sheila volunteered to tend the fire when Norah meekly admitted she'd never started a campfire.

“We all have our talents,” Sheila assured her. “I sure can't make cookies like these,” she added as
she picked up a large no-bake cookie from a tray that Norah was arranging on the table.

They'd prepared the condiments for the hot dogs, cheese cubes and a plate of raw vegetables earlier in the day. Sheila set out the mustard, ketchup and chopped onions while she took another peanutbutter cookie from the tray.

“Promise to teach me how to cook, and I'll teach you to make a campfire,” she said to Norah.

“Deal!” Norah agreed.

“Doug will be glad to have you give me cooking lessons. I've always been a tomboy and loved to be outside helping Dad, so I'm just learning to cook. We've only been married a year.”

The sound of singing preceded the wagons before they came in sight. Even the children who were totally blind exhibited happy faces as they rode into the cove. The Seeing Eye dogs hovered close as their charges climbed off the wagons.

The children were all city kids who'd never been on a hayride, nor had they participated in a wiener roast. Jim Hanson gave Norah a thumbs-up when the kids gathered around the fire, extending sticks that held more than one hot dog. The volunteers encouraged the children to do as much of the roasting as they could.

Mason stood to one side watching Norah as she efficiently served the children and anticipated their
every need. She was compassionate to the children, but not to the point that she discouraged them from exercising their independence.

He was convinced she could have been a wonderful wife and mother, and he wondered if she had any interest in a midlife marriage.

Norah's eyes intercepted his glance across the campfire, and he felt his face flushing. He hoped she couldn't read his thoughts.

Doug, who stood beside Mason, nudged him in the side and said out of the corner of his mouth, “Want me to give you some advice on how to win the fair lady?”

“No, thank you.”

“It'll be a mistake if you let her get away from you. Sheila thinks Norah likes you.”

“When did the two of you become matchmakers?”

“When you started making sheep eyes at Norah.”

Mason didn't answer, and Doug insisted, “I'm serious, Mason. You could have had your pick of any single girl in this community for the past twenty years, but none of them stirred you up like Norah has. You should give her some serious thought.”

As if I haven't been thinking about her constantly,
Mason thought, but he was spared an answer when Sheila brought two filled plates to them. “Norah's
promised to teach me to cook, Doug. Does that make you happy?”

“I'm already happy.”

Sheila's face brightened, and she stood on tiptoe to kiss Doug on the lips. Mason was used to their public display of devotion, and usually he wasn't envious, but tonight he seemed to realize what he'd missed by living alone. His eyes strayed to Norah again. Was Doug right? Did she like him, too?

The coals had burned to embers when Doug swung the guitar over his shoulder.

“C'mon, kids,” he said. “Let's sing.”

He led them in several Bible choruses, then he tipped his hat back on his forehead, saying in a joking voice, “Now you're in for a
real
treat. Tonight marks the first appearance of a new Western singing group—Johnson, King and Williamson, soon to be known as the Flying K Wranglers. Just remember someday, when these names appear in the bright lights of Branson or Nashville, that you heard the premiere performance.”

They sung some of the old favorites, “Sweet Betsy from Pike,” and “Home on the Range,” closing with a hymn, “Now the Day is Over.” Norah wasn't so confident of her singing talent, but the other three had good voices.

Norah and Sheila stayed on after the wagons left to be sure the fire was extinguished, and using the
headlights of the truck, they picked up any stray trash that might have escaped.

Sheila yawned noticeably as they drove toward the ranch buildings. “Gee, I'm tired,” she said. “And we have to be up early to prepare a good breakfast for this group's farewell meal.”

“But we'll have a whole week to recover.”

“Ha!” Sheila jeered. “Have you forgotten that next Thursday is the Fourth of July celebration at the Flying K? That will take a lot of work.”

“And I don't have a costume to wear. I intended to order one, but it's too late now.”

“I have several outfits I've used in other years. You can wear one of those.”

“Hardly! I weigh about twenty pounds more than you do, and I'm a few inches shorter.”

“I have a pioneer woman's dress that you can hem, and it has a full skirt. It will probably work, or you can borrow a dress from my mother—she's about your build. She tells me that she was my size when she was a girl, but she gained weight when she had her babies, and never lost it.”

Laughing, Norah said, “I don't even have that excuse!” Weight had become a touchy subject with Norah this summer, so she asked, “What kind of a costume are you wearing this year?”

“I'm going as Calamity Jane.”

“Who?”

“Calamity Jane—probably the Wild West's most notorious woman. Legend has it that she was an orphan raised by soldiers at Fort Laramie. She became famous as a stage driver and a bullwhacker—that's an ox-team driver.”

“Will it be difficult to portray her?”

“Nah,” Sheila said. “I'll wear a pair of Doug's dirty jeans, a coat—three sizes too big for me that I borrowed from my father-in-law—and one of his worn-out slouch hats. I'll not indulge in Calamity's tobacco chewing and swearing.”

“Seems like you could have found a better role model to portray,” Norah commented humorously.

“Oh, Calamity had her good points. In her heyday, she was a pretty woman, and when Deadwood, South Dakota, was ravaged with a smallpox epidemic, she was the best nurse in town. Legend holds that she got ‘religion' in her later years.”

“Just goes to show you can't judge a book by its cover, as the old saying goes.”

When they drove into the ranch yard right behind the wagons, Mason called, “Leave those tables and chairs in the truck. We'll unload them as soon as we stable the horses.”

While Doug and Mason stored the equipment and supplies in the proper places, Sheila and Norah made preliminary plans for breakfast. Sheila put the place settings on the table. Norah mixed a batch of
bran muffin batter to stand in the refrigerator overnight and prepared fresh fruit to marinate in apple cider.

When the men finished their work, Norah said, “You go on home, Sheila. All I have to do it cut up this leftover ham to put in the scrambled eggs. It won't take long for us to finish the meal in the morning.”

Mason perched on a stool and leaned on the working island in the middle of the kitchen. He watched Norah in silence as she moved around the room. His watchful eyes made her somewhat uncomfortable.

To break the silence, she said, “Do you think the campfire idea is a good way to end the group's activities?”

“I thought so. And Jim was enthusiastic about it. He asked us to have a campfire on the closing night for the other two groups, too. How'd it work from your angle?”

“No problem at all. We used disposable plates and cups, so the work was easier. It's been a rewarding three weeks.”

“I haven't been as closely involved as you've been, but it's apparently been successful. Even I can notice a difference in the kids from the first week.”

“If the other two sessions go as well as this one, H & H will probably be able to continue.”

“That's what Jim said. He wanted to know if the ranch would be available next year.”

Norah's heart fluttered a little at that information. Already she was dreading the end of the summer when she'd be finished at the Bar 8. Or was it Mason she didn't want to leave? If she did enroll in college, and the program continued next year, perhaps she could spend another summer in the Sand Hills. A few months away from Mason would give her a better perspective on her feelings for him.

“What did you tell Jim?”

“Nothing. I've got a lot of money invested in the Bar 8, and I can't continue to operate it at a loss as I've been doing. The amount H & H is paying for the summer is a pittance. I wish I was rich enough to let them use the property without cost, but I'm not. Most ranchers are land poor—lots of land, but not much money. So if I have an offer for the Bar 8 this winter, I'll have to take it.”