Cassidy (Big Sky Dreams 1) (10 page)

Love,

Meg

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Cassidy read it, and read it again. She finally looked at Trace. "Do you know what this says?"

"Sure. Brad and I were there when she wrote it."

"But the three of you are to come to dinner tomorrow after the service."

"Meg said you would bring that up. She said to remind you that we can help you with the meal, or we can make it another week when you've had more time to plan."

Cassidy opened her mouth to argue, but Trace had more.

"Your hospitality is appreciated, Cass. We were all looking forward to it, but it's not as important as your being safe."

"But I've been staying in my apartment for the eight, almost nine, months I've lived here."

"But things are different now," Trace said.

"How so?"

"I've been reminded as to what town is like on Saturday nights, and that's just not going to work for us anymore."

He had sounded almost arrogant, and Cassidy's chin came up. Trace recognized the signs from their shooting lesson the previous week. Without warning, he put his hat back on his head, sat down on the step, and talked out loud to himself.

"It's going to be a long night on this step with no dinner and no breakfast. And I'm not going to be very fresh or even shaved for church in the morning. It's a sad thing."

Cassidy's hand came up to cover her smile. Trace didn't look at her, or he would not have managed to keep his own smile hidden. "You're pathetic, do you know that?" Cassidy asked.

Trace heard the acquiescence in her voice and stood. With one

84

hand the cowboy indicated the stairs. "If you'll gather your. things, Miss Norton, I'll wait for you right here."

With unconscious grace, Cassidy swept up the stairs. She knew some moments of panic about what to take and how to make it work in the morning. She didn't actually believe she would do this every week, but for the moment, she gathered her things and went back downstairs.

Trace assisted her into the wagon, and almost before she could gather her thoughts, they'd pulled under the wooden arch where the Holden Ranch sign hung. Meg must have been watching because both she and Brad were in the yard waiting for her.

Without warning, the events of the day came flooding back to Cassidy. The sight of her friend, standing there in warm welcome, put tears in her eyes. Meg saw them but didn't comment. She put her arms around Cassidy and hugged her close.

"This is where you belong on Saturday nights, Cass," Meg said quietly. "We'll take care of you now."

Cassidy, who had been ready to argue about this plan, could only thank Meg and the men. She had been so confident that God would take care of her, and wasn't He doing that right now?

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"HowDID IT GO AT THE BANK YESTERDAY?"Jeanette asked Cassidy as soon as she arrived at the church.

Cassidy looked into her eyes for a moment before saying, "Let's just say I'm glad I have steady work."

Jeanette nodded and gave her a swift hug. She was so proud of the younger woman that she could barely speak. Cassidy was not panicked or angry but was facing this setback with calmness and humility.

"Something you want to share with me, Cass?" Trace was suddenly saying into her ear.

Cassidy turned slowly, not aware of how close he'd been when Jeanette questioned her. "Why do you ask that?"

"It just sounded like something was a little bit wrong."

Cassidy didn't realize her chin had come up until Trace reached with one finger and pushed it back into place.

"What's up?" he pressed, and Cassidy thought fast.

"Jeanette was asking me about work."

"At the bank?"

Cassidy mentally scolded Jeanette for checking on her in a public place but was rescued from answering when the music started.

86"We'd better sit down," Cassidy said, and Trace had to smile at the relief in her voice. Whatever was going on, she did not want to talk about it. He would certainly not press her, at least not right then, but the eyes he had trained on her were not missing much.

"We've talked off and on about the fear of the Lord for more than a year now," Rylan said near the end of his sermon. "I've had varying responses concerning that topic, but the one that strikes me the most is about time lost, time wasted. What does a person do who's started to fear the Lord too late? I don't mean too late in the sense that there's no hope, but too late as in time lost.

"My best answer is to look at the life of Paul, who as an adult had his life completely turned around by God. Once Paul understood who Christ was and what He'd done for him on the cross, there was no stopping him. He doubled his efforts. He worked all the harder for the start he had. In the same way we need to double our own efforts. Double our humility, our zeal, wisdom, and devotion.

"Don't be discouraged. Paul wasn't. You talk about wasted time, Paul was born late, but he made up for that, and we can learn from his example. When you read Paul's letters, keep that in mind. Remember that he doubled his efforts.

"Let's pray together. Father God, we thank You for Your Word and the example of men like Paul. Thank You for being the God who lets us start the race late but still win. Help us to go from this place with You on our mind and hearts. Bless each one here and in Your will and time bring us back together next week. In the name of Jesus I pray these things. Amen."

The congregation dispersed, but Brad looked thoughtful. Meg noticed his face and took his hand.

"Are you all right?",

"Yes. I was encouraged by those last words."

"I was remembering my father with his milking," Meg said. "When

87the cows didn't give as much milk as he'd counted on, he used to say there was nothing more he could do. I always felt my mother's helplessness in those times. I don't know what made it come to mind, but not being helpless in this is so freeing."

"Yes, it certainly is," Brad agreed, giving Meg's hand a squeeze. Almost before he was done saying this, Trace came to stand beside them.

"Are we going to Cassie's now?" the younger brother asked. "Did she already head out?" Meg asked.

"She must have because I don't see her."

"Let's go," Brad said as he stood. They had decided to eat at Cassidy's, but Brad knew she would want to do more than she needed. She was like Meg in that way, very caring and a bit too hard on herself.

The three went to Cassidy's and found her working hard. She had pulled her small kitchen table away from the wall so everyone would fit around it and was heating a pot of something on the stove. The contents smelled wonderful, and it became obvious that Cassidy had already planned ahead. While they watched, Cassidy finished mixing cake batter, and poured it into pans that went into the oven of the cookstove.

"I think things are ready," Cassidy said with a smile, wondering why she hadn't done this months ago. "Please sit down."

"We were all ready to help you," Meg said, smiling at her friend as she began to put food on the small table.

"I had things in pretty good shape, and I left right after the service so I could get started on that cake."

"Is it the recipe you gave me?" Meg asked when Cassidy sat down with them.

"Yes, it's my favorite."

"It's our favorite too," Brad said dryly, knowing that when Meg made it, he and Trace tried to eat it all. Meg, thinking the same thing, laughed at him.

The table fell silent then, and for some reason Cassidy felt awkward.

88She wanted to ask one of the men to pray but suddenly felt herself blushing. Trace caught her look and came to the rescue. "Do you want me to pray?"

"Please," Cassidy answered, glad to have an excuse to close her eyes and gather her thoughts. She wasn't sure she caught any of Trace's prayer, but she had managed to pray and calm down before he said amen.

"How's business?" Brad asked Cassidy as they began to eat. Cassidy didn't answer, and Brad found her looking at his brother.

"I didn't put him up to that," Trace said, preferring things to be out in the open.

Cassidy looked apologetic and turned to Brad. "It has its ups and downs, but I make it every month."

"I'm glad,Hesaid, wanting to ask what had just gone on but forcing himself not to.

"Any interesting customers this week?" Meg asked, also wondering if something was wrong but opting to change the subject.

"I had an interesting order," Cassidy said, not wanting to talk about Mrs. Hillard even if she didn't mention her by name. "One woman wants a rather elaborate tablecloth. It's a very creative design-just not very practical."

"Why is that?"

"She wants some quilting and piecework. It would be nice if she was going to use it for a bedspread, but I don't know that I would want people eating off of it."

The men ate quietly while the women discussed this tablecloth. The food was very good, so it wasn't hard work, but when Meg suddenly noticed how empty their plates were, she laughed.

"Not interested in tablecloths, Brad?" she teased.

"I'm interested in ones that are holding food I can eat." Husband and wife shared a smile. Trace was reaching for more bread, and Cassidy pushed the butter a little closer to him before

89checking on her cake pans. She brought the cakes out to cool, and then the conversation shifted to the sermon.

"I had never seen Paul in that light before," Trace shared. "It's motivating."

"And challenging," Brad put in. "There are no excuses."

"And I appreciated his reminder of how much we have to be humble about," Meg added.

"When was that?" Trace asked.

"At the beginning of the sermon. He was talking about how much we need saving, and then mentioned the last verse in Second Corinthians and the way Paul ended his letter with God's grace being upon us."

The conversation roamed to other sermons until they had finished their food. Cassidy cleared the table and started on a frosting for the cake. She didn't get far, however, because Meg settled in the living room, her feet up, eyes heavy, wanting to know what sewing project Cassidy was working on.

"The same quilt. It's not going that swiftly."

Cassidy brought out the full-size quilt in an amazing array of colors. It was technically a rag quilt, but Cassidy had matched the fabrics so well that she still managed to create a beautiful design.

"Go to sleep," Cassidy said, finally noticing Meg's face. The men had settled in the room, Brad with a newspaper and Trace looking at the bookshelf. Cassidy went back to the small kitchen and kept going on the frosting. It wasn't long before Trace followed her.

"What flavor?"

"What do you think?" Cassidy asked with a smile.

"Chocolate," Trace said with satisfaction, having sprawled at the kitchen table. "So tell me," he went on, "are you sure you're all right?"

Cassidy turned from the bowl to answer. "I am, Trace. Thanks for asking."

"All right," Trace nodded, watching her. "I'll expect you to say so if you're not."

90"I will." Cassidy smiled at him, thinking that his caring was very sweet.

Trace nodded and got slowly to his feet. "I'll get out of your way."

"All right. I'll have this ready in a bit."

Trace went back to the living room to find his brother and sister-in-law dozing. He got comfortable in the chair and continued to think about what he'd heard Jeanette say that morning.

In the kitchen, Cassidy thought about it as well, glad that Trace had not pressed her but almost wishing she could discuss it with him. She dismissed the idea as fanciful, finished the cake, and made coffee. As soon as Meg woke, dessert would be ready.

Jeanette spent a long time thinking about Cassidy and her finances early Monday morning. She wanted to give her some money but not have Cassidy know whom it was from. At the same time, she and Chandler were the only ones who knew about the bank mistake, and Cassidy was sure to figure it out.

Jeanette looked down at the table, her Bible open to Proverbs. She had been reading when she remembered Cassidy, and without much encouragement her brain had been off and running.

Going back to Proverbs, Jeanette told herself that she had to have her own level of trust for Cassidy's life. She also realized she didn't have to dwell on helping her. If she was supposed to do that, something would come to mind.

"How are you?" Chandler asked Cassidy, having come to see her on Tuesday at lunchtime. The two had not talked since Saturday. "I'm fine, Chandler. How are you?"

Chandler looked at her, not sure if she'd misunderstood him or

91not. He'd been tortured by the mistake and figured she must be in the same state.

"I meant," Chandler tried again, "how are you in reference to my news last Saturday?"

"Most of the time, I'm all right. Sometimes I worry."

"I feel as though I didn't express to you how bad I feel. I don't think I said enough."