Seeds of Summer by Deborah Vogts Page B

asked, his face streaked with dust and sweat.
    â€œOver half. Why don’t you trade off with Brody and rope for awhile?” Natalie eased from her position and looked up to see another neighbor approach from the far side of the barn. As he neared, she realized it was Jared. Dressed in faded jeans, work boots and a gray T-shirt, he stopped at the corral and waved.
    â€œWhat brings you here?” She met him at the gate and studied the shadow of his face beneath the long-rimmed ball cap.
    â€œYou seem surprised.” His brown eyes crinkled into a smile.
    She caught the hint of his musky cologne as it wrestled with the strong odor of cattle, horses and dirt. “After our last visit, I didn’t figure you’d come around again.”
    Amusement stole through the side of his mouth. “What can I say? My conscience wouldn’t allow me to enjoy a peaceful day at the river while you were out here toiling in the sun. What can I do to help?”
    She glanced at his hands and remembered their soft touch. “Have you ever worked cattle?”
    â€œI helped my granddad every summer.”
    â€œThat’s right…I forgot you were on a quest to relive your childhood.” She opened the green aluminum gate, wondering where to station the man so he’d have the least chance of getting hurt. “Can you rope, or would you feel safer on the ground?”
    â€œI can ride, although I haven’t done so—”
    â€œâ€”since you were a boy?” She couldn’t keep the lilt from pervading her voice. “You can ride my horse. Jackson’s used to strangers and will tolerate most anything.”
    She watched Jared study the other cowboys who were roping and dragging calves to the butane branding fire. A hint of panic pulled on his jaw.
    â€œIf you’d rather, you can help with the inoculations.” She indicated the second ground crew beside her own—all working together when necessary.
    â€œNo, this will be fine. Just point me in the right direction, and Jackson and I will start roping us some doggies.”
    Unsure whether he made fun or was serious, Natalie led him to her gray gelding tied outside the holding pen. She watched as he struggled with the reins and stirrups and debated helping him but decided to see if he could hold his own. Minutes later, he rode past Willard at the gate, jerking Jackson’s reins unnecessarily as he fumbled with his coiled lariat. Once he got the rope situated, he swung a loop and it twisted over his head. Tossing it anyway, he missed the calf by a good stretch of the imagination. No surprise, but at least he isn’t tugging on Jackson’s bit any longer.
    When she looked up from her work the next time, Jared was joking with Bruce Bennett, who was showing him how to swing a rope. She shook her head then tackled her next steer to the ground. After two more, she heard cheers from the riders and peered up tosee Jared had caught a calf by its hind legs and was dragging it to the branding fire.
    â€œLooks like he’s getting the hang of it.” Willard came to her side, all smiles.
    â€œMore like beginner’s luck.” She caught the dark strands of hair fluttering in her face and pinned them under her straw cowboy hat.
    â€œYou don’t like the young pastor much, do you?”
    Her eyes darted to Willard’s, her own guarded. “Do you?”
    Willard scrunched his mouth and nodded. “He’s a likeable guy, and he came to help. Hard to fault a man willing to give up his free time, especially when it’s painfully obvious he hasn’t got a clue what he’s doing.” He chuckled and mopped his face with a blue bandana.
    It figured that Willard would like Jared. They both shared a fondness for poetry. Natalie couldn’t help but be wary around the man, with all of his meddling, first with Dillon and now Chelsey. Like he was some kind of lifesaver or something. “Kinda makes you