His Little Cowgirl. Brenda Minton

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      Published by Steeple Hill Books™

      And ye be kind one to another, tenderhearted,

       forgiving one another, even as God for Christ’s sake hath forgiven you.

      —Ephesians 4:32

      This book is dedicated to:

      Doug, for always supporting me in my dreams,

       and to my kids for allowing me to be the “crazy mom.” Dream big and never give up.

      To all of my family and friends who have kept me

       going forward when I wanted to quit.

      To Janet Benrey and Melissa Endlich, for

       everything they do and have done for me.

      To Janet McCoy of McCoy Ranches, for taking the

       time to answer my questions about bull riders and bull riding. (Mistakes I’ve made are of course my own.) To bull riders like Cord McCoy, who are an inspiration and a role model to young people, and who leave their own footprints of faith.

      To the readers for reading.

      To God for all of the blessings.

      Contents

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      Chapter Seven

      Chapter Eight

      Chapter Nine

      Chapter Ten

      Chapter Eleven

      Chapter Twelve

      Chapter Thirteen

      Chapter Fourteen

      Chapter Fifteen

      Questions for Discussion

      Chapter One

      Bailey stuck her hands into the hot, soapy water and began to scrub the dishes she’d put off washing until after lunch, wishing for the umpteenth time that the dishwasher still worked. Her father had helped for a few minutes, until his legs had grown weak and he’d taken himself to the living room and his favorite recliner to watch Oprah.

      The throaty snore she heard through the doorway told her that he’d fallen asleep. She didn’t mind; it was sleep that he needed these days. At least when he was sleeping, he wasn’t worrying.

      Oprah’s voice drifted into the kitchen, borne on the gentle breeze that blew through the house. “So tell me, Suzanne, how much did you pay for your home in Malibu?”

      Bailey strained to listen. “Three million, a bargain.” Audience laughter.

      Bailey shook her head and scrubbed harder. Three million for a house. What couldn’t she do with three million dollars? She looked out her window above the sink, at the farm shimmering in the late-afternoon sun. It looked as tired as her dad. A good eye could see that things were falling apart. The fences were sagging and the last windstorm had done a number on the barn roof. Not to mention her truck, which was on its last leg, and tires…. Three million dollars. That would help pay the mortgage. Well, of course, with three million dollars in the bank, there wouldn’t be a mortgage.

      She was doing well if she made the mortgage payment each month. The tips she earned as a waitress put shoes on her daughter’s feet—one pair at a time—and cutting a few more cows from the herd would pay the property taxes. Life in the Ozarks was far removed from Hollywood.

      A little cutting back, a lot of prayer and making it through another day with her dad still in her life. That was how it went in the real world. At least in her world.

      Bailey squeezed her eyes shut. She opened them when she heard a distant rattle and the rapid-fire bark of her blue heeler. Her mind turned, wondering who it could be. She wasn’t expecting anyone, and it sounded like whoever it was, they were pulling a trailer.

      She squeezed the water out of the dishrag, tossed it on the counter and walked out the back door. If she didn’t catch the dog now, the person paying them a surprise visit would have a hole in his pant’s leg and a bad attitude to go with it. Bailey was holding on to faith by a string; she didn’t need someone’s СКАЧАТЬ