Follow a Wild Heart: A Christian Contemporary Western Romance Series by Natalie Bright (top reads .TXT) 📗

Nathan heard his father mumble as he walked to the door. “Now get to bed. We have a long day tomorrow. Don’t know why you fool with that kind of stuff. It’s not like you got any real talent for that sort of thing.”

The words stung and Nathan was surprised by that. He wanted to be a full-time artist and knew if he had the chance to work at his craft and study more, he might actually be able to make a living at it. He always loved making things since he was a little kid—Lego cities, wooden furniture, and his grandfather Olsen encouraged his interest. To Nathan it was a passion, not some passing phase; it was something he had to do to feel that his life mattered. It was as though he was given a mission, a gift, a special talent no one else possessed. If he didn’t work with it, if he just let it waste away and go dormant, he felt it would die, that maybe his life and dreams would die. But he never told anyone about his desire to become an artist until he met Carli. She inspired him to be better.

His mother thought it was a nice hobby and often praised his efforts when he’d been a young boy. She never knew about the burning desire he kept hidden though. But he didn’t have much time to work on his ideas, and he knew no one realized how deeply he felt it in his soul. He couldn’t imagine his parents, particularly his father, understanding him wanting to “do art” for his life’s work. Naturally, they thought he’d take over the magnificent Rafter O Ranch, a place he couldn’t figure out how to get away from. The idea left him with a bitter taste in his mouth. What if he didn’t want to oversee the towering legacy of the Olsen family? As the first born, it had always been assumed he would take over, but no one ever asked his opinion.

How could he explain it to them? How could he make them understand he was sick of ranch work and didn't want to do it every day for the rest of his life? Instead, he wanted to get up in the morning, happy to be alive, excited to work on a piece of his own creation, his art. He wanted to live out his passion.

Carli understood. He could talk to her about things like this. She listened. She encouraged him to talk to his dad. And said we all had to be true to our own dreams, that we couldn’t live someone else’s life. She was right. He’d tell his parents soon. He just had to.

But right now, he stayed lost in the flame of the torch. His secret place. It was where he could go to feel at peace. Watching the metal change shape and turn red with heat held him spellbound, like watching volcanos being created, lava flowing in a river out of a mountain. Then he would bend and shape the soft metal into an object that had never existed before—like a rose for his mother. He made other larger things—a barn sign for a neighbor and a few decorative pieces another neighbor took to be sold at a craft fair, just for fun. His father never knew about any of them.

What he really wanted to work on were life-sized, bronze sculptures. But he had to learn more about that.

He shut off the torch, removed his helmet, and pressed Carli's number on his phone contact list. “Hey, how ya doing?”

“Is everything okay, Nate? You sound troubled.”

“I’m working on a metal project. Needed to take a break. I wanted to ask you about Sunday lunch with the family. We’re celebrating Mom’s birthday and Mother’s Day.”

“Sure, Nate, that’d be fun, thanks for asking.”

“My dad was the one who reminded me to ask you over.” He smiled when he heard her laughter at the other end.

“Sounds nice, Nate. You said the magic word—food. I do like a good burger.”

They both chuckled.

“And Carli,” his voice grew serious, “thanks again for going with me to the art gallery.”

“Don’t mention it. It was a fun day. See you Sunday. I’ll just drive over.”

He disconnected the call, slipped his phone back into his pocket, and opened the cooler. He took out a water bottle and set it on the metal workbench he had made a few years back. As he looked around the shop, he began thinking about taking his art to the next level.

Nathan took a sip of water and thought about what his grandpa used to say in an effort to get him to hurry up and make a decision on what kind of milkshake he wanted from the Dixie Maid Drive-in. Grandpa Olsen was an ornery old cuss who spoke in plain cowboy lingo. He could be crude sometimes, but you always knew where he stood on things.

“Do your business or get off the pot, boy.” Saying those words out loud made Nathan laugh. “I hear ya, Grandpa.”

It was time to get serious about this so-called “hobby” of his. He needed to own it or just forget about it. More than anything, he wanted to give it a try. There’d be hell to pay around the Olsen family ranch though. For that, he was certain.

Chapter Twenty-One

Nathan Olsen waited patiently for the old drip coffee pot to finish as he studied the layout of the shop building that took up one side of the Rafter O Ranch headquarters compound. It wasn’t sunup yet. Unable to sleep because the copper rose kept tugging at his mind, he finally stopped fighting the covers, got dressed, and came out to the shop. He contemplated a new arrangement, one that would allow him room to set up a metal working area. If he moved that pile of old trailer tires from the far corner and stacked them outside, he might be out of everybody’s