Follow a Wild Heart: A Christian Contemporary Western Romance Series Read online

  Follow A Wild Heart

  Wild Cow Ranch 3

  Natalie Bright

  Denise F. McAllister

  Follow A Wild Heart

  (Wild Cow Ranch Book 3)

  Natalie Bright

  Denise F. McAllister

  CKN Christian Publishing

  An Imprint of Wolfpack Publishing

  6032 Wheat Penny Avenue

  Las Vegas, NV 89122

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced by any means without the prior written consent of the publisher, other than brief quotes for reviews.

  Kindle Edition

  Copyright © 2021

  CKN Christian Publishing

  Characters, places and incidents are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  ISBN 978-1-64734-660-7

  Contents

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  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Acknowledgments

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  About Natalie Bright

  About Denise F. McAllister

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  To the hardest working man I know, who never stops dreaming.

  Thanks Chris, for all that you do for us. All my love.

  - Natalie Bright

  The year 2020 was life-changing for the entire world due to the pandemic.

  Our thoughts and prayers go out to all who have been affected by the virus.

  May God bless and keep you safe.

  - Denise F. McAllister

  Chapter One

  Present Day

  Rafter O Ranch, Texas Panhandle

  Shifting in his saddle, Nathan Olsen looked out over the early spring range—his father’s ranch and three grandpas before him—from the top of a hill. Red Angus spread out nibbling at bits of new growth which cast a tinge of light green onto the scene. The unbroken horizon burned bright orange and gold with streaks of purple-gray clouds.

  Winter had not disappeared yet; the penetrating chill seeping under his wild rag was proof. Pulling up the Carhartt collar and tugging down on his ballcap, he loosened his grip on the reins. Nathan flexed his achy, cold fingers and yanked lined deerskin gloves from his pocket. He breathed in the scene, wanting to commit it all to memory. If he were a painter, he could preserve the scene forever.

  Some people might be bothered by the silence, but to Nathan’s ears the prairie was loud and restless. Meadowlarks answered each other’s call, and the wind kept the dead weeds swaying in constant motion.

  As he surveyed the scene his chest filled with pride. It always surprised him, this emotion he felt for a patch of dirt. Generations of Olsens had honored this treeless place, devoting their sweat and tears, and the land had blessed them in return.

  A hawk soared across the sky, his wings outstretched to catch the updraft. At the top of the ridge Nathan watched a group of mule deer as they cautiously eased into a chinaberry grove, seeking their hideout for the day after grazing all night. He saw the beauty in the land, but the scene did not feed his soul.

  Aggravation hung over his head like the patches of fog that clung to the lows with a gray shroud. Darn cold this early, but his dad had insisted they be in the saddle just after first light. In Nathan’s mind, they had plenty of time, all day in fact, to cruise through the heifers. But it seemed his father insisted on creating a list of chores before going to bed to make sure his oldest son stayed occupied. In fact, it was March; birthing season would start any day now. He or his sister Angie had already been making a pass through this group of first-time little mommas several times during the day and night.

  Nathan was closing fast on thirty, old enough to know what needed to be done without his father laying out a chores list. There was never a discussion, never a chance for him to give any input. The idea that he might have made other plans for the day never came into question.

  About the time he thought to dig out his phone to snap a picture, one of his sisters rode up alongside and halted her horse next to his. “What’re you doin’? Dad’ll be on your tail soon. Better not let him catch you bein’ idle.”

  Despite the early hour, Angie appeared alert and fresh-faced with cheeks pink from the cold, long blonde hair in a neat braid reaching to her waist. Bright purple shirt, red wild rag, red gloves, red vest, black canvas jacket. As usual his sister was riding his favorite blue roan mare, looking like the perfect models for a Western photo shoot.

  He always thought Angie was the better ranch hand. In his mind, he didn’t even add, “for a girl.” He been doing ranch work his whole life, but she was just better at everything—riding, roping, gathering, branding, and also had a head for business. Of course, he’d never tell her that. She had a natural instinct about cows and loved every minute of it. His brother, Travis, had a knack with horses. His other two sisters were gifted with talents in the ranch kitchen or branding pen. Their dad had taught all of them well about how to manage and sustain the family business.

  Nathan, on the other hand, was an observer. They were his family and he loved them, but at times he felt like an outsider, hovering on the edge of every conversation—always there, but not really an integral part of the entire operation. He wondered if any of the bunch had actually admired the view from their horse or watched a sunrise. Not just an occasional glance out a window, but really studied the colors and patterns in the clouds.

  “Are you listening?”

  Her voice grated on his nerves. It annoyed him that his sister felt a need to interrupt the silence.

  “I’m just being still for a minute, that’s all. Appreciating nature. God’s the best painter, ya know.”

  “Oh, that’s a good one,” Angie laughed. “Not the part about God, but I don’t think Dad’ll like you bein’ still. C’mon, let’s go. We only have a few heifers that seem to be in trouble. One is ready but I can see a nose instead of feet. If we can get her into the chute, maybe I can turn the little bugger around before he’s born.”

  He rarely shared his inner thoughts or argued because what was the use? There was always work to be done. Nathan turned his horse to follow Angie towards a group of cattle where his father sat patiently. With a smirk and giggle she called out over her shoulder. “Do you have a dat
e with Carli?”

  “She might come by later. I’m taking her to lunch.”

  “Well, better get your work done then.”

  Nathan clenched his jaw and reined his horse to follow. Life was much easier if he did what Angie said, as well as his father, his mother, even the rest of his younger siblings. Even though he was the oldest it seemed everyone else was in charge but him. “Let’s get Nathan to do it,” seemed to be their solution to everything. Today was no different than any other day, but he seemed to be more agitated than usual. He shook the troubled thoughts from his mind. No use in wishing for what would never be. A moment of peace to enjoy the coming day was not on the schedule.

  Prodding her horse gently with a spur, his sister took off ahead of him. Always full of energy and ready and able to lead, Angie could surely take over the ranch one day. Nathan felt certain of that. He thought about this a lot. As the oldest of five kids, it was expected that he’d be the next generation of cowmen to oversee the Rafter O into the future. If they all assumed he’d take over, maybe it was time he did. Truthfully, he was best at avoiding confrontation, particularly with his father. Blessed are the peacemakers, his grandpa Olsen had always said. Sometimes knowing when to remain silent proved more the man than jumping into the fray.

  Trotting his horse to catch up, he filled the gap between his father and sister. They successfully drove four little heifers into the pens at Olsen Ranch headquarters.

  Nathan made quick work of running the heifer into the snake and then chute. Angie gloved up and worked her arm into the cow in an effort to push the calf’s nose back and find his front feet before he smothered. After a few minutes, the mother gave a grunt and a push, and a newborn calf spilled out.

  “It’s a she and she’s beautiful.” Angie wiped the mucus from a shiny, wet nose and pulled the newborn out from behind her momma. They opened the chute and placed the calf in front of the mother’s nose. She got a good whiff and began licking the slick, wet hair of her new baby. Silently they all backed away and climbed out of the pen.

  By the time they assessed the other heifers, filled the water tub, unsaddled, and put tack back in its place, it was midmorning. Nathan longed for that second cup of coffee which had been interrupted earlier.

  He went into the barn where his father and sister, Angie, stood, heads together, laughing about something. They always had shared a special bond. The laughter stopped when they noticed him, which happened often and made him feel like a third wheel.

  Mr. Olsen’s expression changed to a more serious one when he turned to look at his son. “You have a date in the middle of a workday?”

  Nathan and Angie exchanged glances, but she did not speak. She shrugged her shoulders and half-grinned.

  “We’re almost done here, Dad. Besides it’s just lunch. We’ll run into Dixon real quick. I won’t be gone long.”

  “You know that running a ranch is a 24/7 job.” Skip Olsen gave his oldest son a menacing stare.

  Nathan braced himself for the lecture that was sure to come, but instead his father added, “Say hello to Carli for me.”

  “Yes, sir.” Even though Nathan was well past his irresponsible, adolescent days, his father still had the power to make him feel like an eighth grader.

  He loved his parents and his family. He really did. They were kind, hardworking people. Salt of the earth. And his dad was never harsh or unkind with any of his five children. But the patriarch of the Olsen family wanted things done his way and could get downright ornery about it. His father had taught each of them well—how to respect the earth, the livestock, and people, but it was like an act of Congress if Nathan had other plans. Maybe he wanted to do things a little different than they’d been done before. On some days he felt like a stranger. He yearned for another life. Any kind of life except the one he had.

  As he emerged from the tack barn, Carli’s truck bumped across the cattle guard into Rafter O headquarters and pulled to a stop. She gave a wave in his direction. No matter what, she always looked pretty to him. Whether she was spic ’n’ span shiny and joining his family for dinner, or dirty and sweaty when she pitched in on working cattle. The honey-colored hair that spilled over her shoulders, and those hazel eyes that haunted his dreams. He lifted his arm in greeting and gave her a wide smile.

  She’d had a tough year, her first one in Texas as the new owner of the Wild Cow Ranch. The whole town was taken aback when she appeared out of nowhere, from Georgia, and the Last Will was read that named her the rightful heir of the Wild Cow Ranch after her grandpa, Ward Kimball, had died.

  She’d been through a lot since moving to Texas. Even a disastrous fire which destroyed the hay barn, ruled arson later. Then, just recently, caught out in the pasture during a life-threatening Texas norther, a freak snowstorm that would be talked about for years to come. But Carli Jameson seemed to get through it all, stronger than ever, with grace and calm, ready to take on the next thing. Nathan admired her.

  And they’d become friends, but he wondered if she might be the answer to his problems. He could imagine a life with her. Combining their ranches, raising Angus cattle, a solid ranch horse stock, and hopefully a few kids. Being married might get him out from under his father’s thumb. It would quiet his mother’s incessant hints at wanting grandkids. With Carli at his side, he could settle into ranch life. Only thing standing in his way was Lank Torres, the Wild Cow Ranch hired hand. He could tell Carli was drawn to him. Nathan also sensed that she was guarded and cautious. His relationship with her was not yet on solid ground and a long way from the proposal stage. But the smile she flashed in his direction that morning gave him hope. For today at least, Nathan felt he stood a good chance.

  Chapter Two

  Carli Jameson gave a wave to Nathan Olsen as she pulled her truck to a stop at the Rafter O headquarters. She was a bit early for their lunch date, but she enjoyed hanging out with the Olsen family. Right after moving to Texas, she had accepted a neighborly invite to a going away party for one of their daughters who had joined the military. It was hard to cast aside her tendency to remain a loner after moving here, but her hired hand Lank Torres insisted she go with him. She felt welcomed and at home the minute she walked into the Olsen’s house. Hopes for a closeness with Lank turned out to be a huge disappointment that night, but it was a worry for another time. She was his boss after all, and even though Lank brought her to the party, Nathan had driven her home. Their friendship had only grown from there.

  The Olsen’s rock house had been occupied for five generations. Towering elms and bushy oaks encircled the old homestead, with one side sloping down into a grove of trees shading a carpet of grass. It was even pretty this time of year with budding branches and early signs of spring peeking through the crunchy brown lawn. Oldest son Nathan told her they set up tables under those trees during the summer for cookouts. His mother loved to entertain.

  Carli waited in the vehicle but rolled down her window.

  “Hey. Thanks for meeting me here,” Nathan called in greeting as he emerged from the barn and walked towards her.

  “I’m looking forward to hanging out today. I want to talk to you about some research I’m doing.”

  “Research? Something to do with your ranch?” Nathan asked through the open window as he rested his arms on her truck’s door.

  “I’ll explain on the way.”

  “Let me wash up and I’ll be right back. My truck’s unlocked.”

  “Looks like you had a busy morning already. Take your time.” She noticed what looked like cow manure covering one sleeve and the sheen of sweat on his face. Carli hopped into Nathan’s pickup and waited until he appeared from the house in a clean shirt and leather vest.

  “Is Dixon all right for lunch? Since you’re early we can grab a coffee first,” Nathan added as he filled the cab with a musky scent of men’s cologne. “We have heifers calving and I hate to get too far away.”

  Zipping down the road, she wondered how he had cleaned up so fast. She couldn’
t ignore his muscled arm on the steering wheel, the other resting on the armrest between them. His light blue pearl-snap shirt was rolled up at the elbows showing off his sturdy, tan forearms. Despite the early spring chill, he didn’t wear a jacket. She remembered he had told her about playing football for Dixon High School. The all-star quarterback, and, no doubt, small town hero, fit him. Over six feet, with that chiseled jaw and perfect teeth, the subject of every teenaged girl’s love-sick dream. Ranch work only made the boy into a leaner and stronger man.

  She had to smile at the thought of her dorky younger self never imagining a moment like this. Carli had always been a loner, definitely never one of the popular crowd, and certainly not the type of girl who would garner the attention of a football quarterback. She had suppressed her loneliness into horses. Thinking back now, she was so fortunate the Fitzgeralds had allowed her to pursue her passion.

  They rode in silence for some distance. He suddenly turned and flashed her a bright, wide grin that didn’t reach his eyes. She didn’t return what she thought was a fake smile. “You seem a little lost in your thoughts, Nate. What’s up?”