Song of Her Heart. Irene Brand

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СКАЧАТЬ trembling, expecting him to attack the car at any moment. If he did, her ten-year-old compact vehicle wouldn’t provide much protection. She closed her eyes and leaned her head on the steering wheel.

      “God,” Norah prayed aloud, “what am I going to do? In spite of my family’s displeasure with me, I’m convinced it’s Your will for me to take this job. I need help.”

      The car was slanted at a forty-five-degree angle, and the left wheels of the vehicle were suspended several inches above the ground. She shut off the car’s engine, resigned to spend the night in this position if she had to.

      Opening the window a sliver, Norah detected the sound of an approaching vehicle, and saw dual head-lights bounding up and down across the prairie. A red pickup ground to a halt, and a large, blackwhiskered man, garbed in jeans, brown jacket, boots and a wide-brimmed hat, jumped from the truck and swatted the bull across the rear. The bull ambled to one side as the man slid down the incline toward her.

      An honest-to-goodness cowboy had come to the rescue!

      He bent over and peered in the window. “Ma’am, are you hurt?” he asked in a deep voice that sounded as if it came from the bottom of a well.

      Relieved to know that help had come, laughing and crying at the same time, Norah gulped. “I don’t think so.”

      When he stood, he towered over the car, and all Norah could see of her rescuer was a broad chest encased in a vivid blue shirt. The stranger quickly surveyed the situation and asked, “What happened?”

      “That bull was in the middle of the road, and when I tried to drive around him, my car slid into the ditch.”

      “I’ll have you out of there in a few minutes.”

      His deep, matter-of-fact voice encouraged Norah. She knew she was in safe hands, but she still didn’t trust the bull.

      “I’m not getting out of this car as long as that animal is here. I’m afraid of him.”

      The man peered in the window again, and his eyes widened in surprise. Although it was dusky, Norah could see that his eyes were almost as dark as his whiskers. “Afraid of Buster? He’s gentle as a lamb.”

      “Ha!” she said derisively. “He shook his head and glowered at me through the windshield.”

      “Just Buster’s way of welcoming you to the Flying K ranch. If you’d waited a few minutes, he’d have moved aside.”

      The stranger pulled the door open and gave Norah a strong hand to hold as she unsteadily climbed out of the car and up the steep, slippery bank.

      “Then I have arrived at the Flying K ranch?”

      He leaned forward and peered at Norah’s face. “You headin’ for the Flying K? I supposed you’d taken a wrong turn. What’d you say your name was?”

      “I didn’t say, but it’s Norah Williamson.”

      The man shoved back his hat, revealing a broad forehead. A bewildered grin spread across his face, and he reached out his hand. “Well! Welcome to the Flying K ranch, Norah. I’m Mason King. Somehow I was expecting an older woman.”

      With those black whiskers covering three-fourths of his face, it was hard to tell how old Mason was, but the part of his face she could see was unwrinkled, his body was firm and agile and he walked with a youthful tread. She hadn’t thought much about Mason’s age, but it was obvious he was in his prime.

      “I guess we didn’t get around to exchanging ages in our e-mails,” Norah said. “I’m forty-two.”

      “Then I’m three years ahead of you.” He turned toward the ditch. “I’ll soon have your car out of there. You’re sure you’re not hurt?”

      “I don’t seem to be. The car slid slowly down the hill.”

      “It’s been raining off and on for a week, and the ground is soaked. Most times you wouldn’t have had any trouble.”

      From his truck bed littered with a conglomeration of ranch equipment, including rope, nail kegs, wire and shovels, Mason pulled out a long chain. He attached it to her car, then fastened the chain to a hook on the back of his truck.

      “Stand aside now, and I’ll get your car out on the road again. There doesn’t seem to be much damage.”

      While the pickup slowly lifted the car from the ditch, Norah kept a wary eye on Buster, now grazing contentedly in the knee-high grass beside the road. Buster glanced in her direction occasionally and let out a throaty bellow. The noise irritated her. After all, he was the reason for her misfortune, and he needn’t gloat over it.

      Mason circled the car, kicking at the tires and peering underneath. She couldn’t tell if the car was damaged, because the whole right side was covered with mud where it had landed against the bank.

      Agitated, Norah looked out into the darkness settling around them. She’d wrecked her car and was at the mercy of this stranger. Why had she made the decision to come to this remote place?

      “There’s a dent in one fender, but it’ll run all right,” Mason said. “It’s too late to settle you at the Bar 8 ranch tonight, so I reckon you’ll have to bunk at the Flying K. Are you okay to drive to the ranch? It’s only another mile.”

      Still preoccupied with her awkward situation, Norah mumbled, “I’ll be all right if I don’t encounter another bull.”

      Mason answered with a pleasant laugh, and he opened the door for her. “You’ll get used to cattle after you’ve been here a few weeks.” He closed her door and got into his truck, motioning for her to follow him.

      Fearing the darkness around her, Norah’s hands gripped the steering wheel. The only light she could see came from the truck in front of her, and the blackness of the night in these unfamiliar surroundings intimidated her. After a short drive, Mason turned toward several buildings illuminated by security lights. He jumped from the truck and waved Norah to a parking space beside him.

      “I’m not fixed for company,” he explained as he opened the car door, “but we can manage tonight. Wait until I get a light turned on in the house, and then I’ll help you carry in what you need for overnight.”

      “Do you live here alone?” Norah asked, hoping the agitation she felt didn’t register in her voice.

      “Yes.”

      The low, rambling house had a wide veranda running the length of the building. When Mason turned on a light, despite Norah’s concern, the old, one-story weathered home seemed to welcome her.

      Mason was at her side again by the time she stepped out of the car. “I won’t need anything except that small case,” she said, indicating a piece of luggage on the floor.

      He peered inside the loaded car. “Looks like you came to stay, all right,” he said with approval.

      “I hardly knew what I’d need, so I prepared for every possibility.”

      Norah entered a room that spread across the front of the house—kitchen, dining and living area were combined into one open space. It was definitely a man’s home. Hunting trophies СКАЧАТЬ