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

They all gathered around a long, wooden table that looked like it belonged in a castle—heavy, solid, immovable. Nicks and scratches marred the surface, but they only gave it personality. Nathan watched Carli run her fingers along the outside where there were intricate, carved scrolls. “This table is amazing. What kind of wood is it?” she asked.

Brad smiled with an understated look of pride. “Mesquite. I made it right after we first married. It’s practically a member of the family.”

His wife chimed in. “He made it with his own two hands.”

All he said was, “Tilly,” with a tilt of his head, but not really a chastisement.

“What? I’m proud of you. You worked hours on this table. It’s a work of art.”

“That’s for sure.” Nathan was mesmerized. “Look at the variety of colors in this wood. It really is amazing work.” Leaning sideways in his chair he ran his fingers along the gleaming varnished surface and patterns and grooves along the sides. “These aren’t just for decoration. They’re people! Men with rifles.”

Quietly Brad said, “It’s the Battle of the Alamo.”

Nathan pushed his chair back some and looked at the carved scenes on the sides of the table near him. “Wow. I didn’t know you also did woodwork.”

“An artist can dabble in many mediums. Art is all around us. It’s part of life, a reflection of our thoughts and emotions. An artist has no choice sometimes. It drives him...or her.” He winked at his wife. “If we don’t create art, we’ll dry up. We need to let our creativity come forth, express what’s inside of us. Or else, we’ll go crazy. You know what I’m talking about, Nathan, don’t you?”

Nathan looked down at his hands and was a little embarrassed to have the spotlight on himself, but at the same time it was as though only he and Brad were in the room. Brad was speaking his language, right to Nathan’s heart, and he so badly needed to talk about it. For a few minutes, he hesitated. He had never revealed this part of himself before.

“I know exactly what you mean. For years I’ve wanted to do my art full-time. But with the Rafter O and my responsibilities...” He hesitated, but then just admitted it. “My dad has high expectations and none of them include art. He doesn’t see how I could ever support myself, let alone a family.” He glanced at Carli.

Tilly passed around the large salad bowl and her grandson almost started to dig in, but she touched his arm and said, “Let’s say the blessing. Brad?”

“Yes, hon.” He smiled and took her hand and looked to everyone to join hands.

“Or do you want Ryan to say it?” his wife asked.

“Ryan’s not here, sweetie. I’ll say the blessing.”

Grandson Tad glanced at Nathan and then looked down at his plate.

Tilly’s voice filled the quiet kitchen. “Ryan’s not here. Ryan’s not here. Ryan, come back. Ryan, come back.”

Nathan realized something was amiss as he noticed the empty place setting and looked at Carli who returned his glance, a smile frozen on his face. Always confident and sure, this was one time in his life Nathan had no idea what to do or say.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Ignoring his wife’s chant, Brad Travers bowed his head. “Let us pray.” Tilly immediately turned silent.

Nathan’s strong fist engulfed Carli’s petite hand as they all bowed their heads around the Travers' dining room table. Then Brad started. “Dear Lord, thank you kindly for bringing Nathan and Miss Carli to our home. We thank you for this bounty and for the blessings you bestow upon our family every day. We ask you to watch over Nathan and Carli and please give them the desires of their hearts. Let them also strive to stay in your good graces and use their gifts and talents for your glory. Bless this food and the hands that prepared it. Amen.”

Carli smiled at Nathan as he released her hand.

Brad dished out portions of beef brisket and passed plates. There were tamale fixings for those who wanted to wrap the meat in corn-based dough. Nathan helped himself to potato salad and pinto beans. The flavorful, tender beef touched his tongue and after he swallowed, he couldn’t help but say, “This is delicious. Thank you for inviting us.”

Brad stuck a basket full of warm yeast rolls under his nose. “Take one. Nathan, to follow up on what you were telling me, sometimes you’ve got to own your destiny. Do what you feel is right for you—come hell or high water.” Looking to his wife, he said, “I’m blessed to have the support of my family.”

“You can call me Nate, and I admire you for your commitment to the arts.” Nathan helped himself to another roll and passed the basket to Carli.

“You’ve got to make a stand, Nate. I’m not saying to disobey or disrespect your father. But be honest with him, with everyone, with yourself. This is your life. Your dad is living his.”

Nathan felt Brad's words pierce his heart as the others politely listened. He never denied the drive to learn all he could about sculpting to himself but admitting that desire to others was the problem. He never imagined the possibility of actually being good enough to earn a living as an artist. It was easier to ignore any thoughts of a different life. The days were much more pleasant if he kept his mouth shut and followed along the Olsen family life's pathway. It had proved successful to many generations before he came along.

“Eat up, everyone. Tilly made some good grub here. Nate, after lunch I want to show you something in the barn. We can talk more, and I can answer any questions you might have.”

“Yes, sir.”

Silence descended on the diners for a few moments. Carli glanced cautiously at Tilly, smiled, and then asked, “How many kids do you have Mr. Travers?”

“We’ve got two daughters and a son—all married and all have given us wonderful grandkids.”

“Two sons,” Tilly interrupted.

“Yes, dear,