Linda Goodnight - Home to Crossroads Ranch

“Brutal.”

He could say that again. Foster care was not for the faint of heart. She’d heard some hair-raising tales and encountered far too many broken children, the exact reason she persevered. God had planted a mission inside her to make a difference in these forgotten kids’ lives. And with God’s help, she was succeeding, one child at a time.

“Another cookie?” She pushed the plate toward him. “Or will your wife be upset if you spoil your lunch with sweets?”

She hoped the question was as subtle as she wanted it to be.

As he chewed, Nate shook his head from side to side. “Nope. No problem there.”

Okay, so she wanted to know for sure. Still playing innocent, she asked, “She doesn’t mind?”

“She doesn’t exist.”

It took Rainy two beats to comprehend.

Nate Del Rio with the killer dimples was single.

If there was one thing Rainy never wanted to be, it was a desperate, husband-hunting woman. So she refused to be happy that the handsome cowboy sitting across from her was unmarried. He was what he was. And so was she.

After she’d hung out her shingle to be a foster mother, with the intention of adopting as many kids as the Lord saw fit, she’d put aside her dreams of a husband. Mostly. If God dropped the right guy into her lap, she wouldn’t argue. She just wasn’t going out looking anymore.

“So how long have you attended Bible Fellowship?” Nate was asking.

“Since I moved here five years ago. It’s a great church, lots of outreach to the needy, which I think is paramount, plus I love the small-group Bible studies. And the kids’ ministry, of course.”

“Of course.” One side of his mouth quirked. “So you’re not from around here, then?”

“Tulsa.”

Both eyebrows joined the quirked lips. “City girl.”

“I am not!” She leaned back in her chair, saw he was teasing, and laughed. “Well, not entirely. I like the smaller town life. That’s why I took the job at Robert E. Lee.”

“Summervale isn’t too small anymore.”

“No, but a good mix of small town and big city, don’t you think?”

“Mostly. Traffic’s gotten snarly since they put in the mall.”

“Nothing like Tulsa at rush hour.”

He shuddered. “Spare me that. Three cars on a country road are enough for me. What grade you teach?”

“Second. Five years, and I can’t imagine doing anything else. Kids that age are a hoot—their wiggles, their gap-toothed smiles, their concrete, literal way of looking at the world.”

He glanced toward the living room, where the children had adjourned. Mercifully, the house had settled into a quieter rhythm with only a now lower rumble of Cartoon Network and an occasional shh or giggle from one of the foursome.

“You like kids.” His statement sounded a lot like an accusation.

“Crazy about them.” Feeling no need to justify what was as natural as breathing, Rainy took another sip of milk. “What do you do, besides rush to the rescue of stressed-out women and their washing machines?”

“Ranch.”

“Really? A real ranch, like with horses and cows?”

“You are a city girl.”

“Am not,” she said mildly. “So do you?”

“Have horses and cows? Sure. Mostly cattle since that’s how I make my living. Angus beef. But I keep a few horses for fun. I mostly use a Mule for the real work these days.”

Rainy leaned an elbow on the table, fascinated. She had no idea cowboys rode mules now instead of horses. The idea of lanky Nate on the back of a stubborn mule conjured up a funny mental picture, but she refused to laugh. The guy had gone above and beyond.

Besides, what she knew about ranches and cowboys would fit on a pencil eraser. But a ranch had animals. She knew that for certain, and animals were good for kids. She’d read any number of articles about their therapeutic value with people who were hurting. Like a tiny seedpod, an idea began to germinate.

She was always on the lookout for opportunities for the children, especially her boys. They needed far more than she could teach them. The only animal she had room or time for was Ralph, the fighting beta fish that only serious Will seemed the least bit interested in. But that was because Will worried about everything and everyone, considering himself the caretaker of the world.

A ranch meant lots of animals, lots of opportunities, maybe even healing of some of the hurts these children had experienced, and of equal importance, a male role model and a little recreation.

“Would you consider letting me bring the kids out to your ranch sometime?”

Nate blinked and the air around him stilled. “Why?”

What an odd question. “To see the animals, to see what you do on a ranch. Broaden their horizons. You know, the kind of experiences they won’t get here in this crowded subdivision.”

She loved her home and neighborhood with its family-oriented residents and tidy, colorful flowerbeds and walkways, but most of the yards were small, and houses butted up against each other on either side. A ranch meant room to spread out and run and be noisy.

Nate didn’t appear to be of the same train of thought. Reluctance hung on him like a wet shirt. He studied the rim of his milk glass, gnawed one corner of his lip and didn’t look at her. “A working ranch is no place for kids.”

Weak excuse. And she was a teacher. Did he think she’d let him get by with that?

“Then, how does one learn to be a rancher?”

The question seemed to agitate him. He leaned forward, forearms on the table’s edge, hazel eyes clouding toward mud-brown. “I grew up in the country. Farm animals were a part of the natural order of things.”

Having taken to heart Christ’s command to care for the needy and orphaned, Rainy was accustomed to pushing when it came to getting things for foster children. After all, she was on a mission for God. If God approved, she didn’t care in the least if people found her pushy. “Are you implying that only those who grow up in the country can be farmers or ranchers?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

She smiled, feeling victory coming on. One more little push and he’d tumble like stacked dominos. “I’m so glad. I was positive a man thoughtful enough to join the Handyman Ministry would understand how much this could mean to at-risk town kids.”

So it was a cheap shot. Rainy had no remorse.

Nate leaned back in his chair, hands dropping into his lap as he stared at her with exasperation. “You don’t give up, do you?”

A tiny smile tickled Rainy’s lips. “Never. Not when it comes to my foster kids.”

This time, she was the one who leaned forward, pressing, determined as a terrier, her voice dropping low so the children didn’t hear. “You met my kids, Nate, but you have no idea what they’ve lived through. They’re survivors, but they carry scars. Will is too serious and considers the other children his responsibility. Joshua is my encourager, but he shivers and shakes at the first sign of conflict. Emma’s charm can be manipulative. And Katie, poor little Katie—” She choked, tears filling her throat. She had not intended to go this far.

The cowboy across from her raised both hands in surrender. “Okay. They can come.”

Rainy pressed back against the hard, wooden chair and drew in a deep, relaxing breath. Thoughts of what these children had suffered and witnessed always tore her apart.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to get teary on you.”

“No big deal.”

But she could see it was. Her handyman was ready to cut and run like a wild horse. Better grab the opportunity while it was knocking. Besides, one trip to the ranch would be a nice start, but she really had something more in mind. “How about tomorrow after church?”