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  “Rancher south of here.”

  “What’s that wild man Chavin up and done now?” someone asked, leaving the impression that Chavin could be counted on to provide entertainment.

  “Would you believe he got himself married yesterday? Up and eloped to Oklahoma.”

  “Chavin?” one appalled man gasped. “That can’t be. No one woman could put a noose on that raging bull.”

  “Got it from his brother,” the reporter stated flatly, to the general shock of his listeners.

  “Why Oklahoma?” Gil heard himself ask.

  “No waiting period,” he was informed. “You can get a license and hitched in the same day.”

  “There’s a waiting period in Texas?”

  “Three days.”

  “I didn’t even know Chavin was seeing anyone,” someone else remarked glumly.

  “Knew her about a week,” the tale-bearer detailed. “Now, don’t that beat all?”

  The general consensus was that the rancher had been uncharacteristically rash.

  “On the other hand,” Gil said, sitting up straight in the warped easy chair, “when it’s right between two people, it’s right. Don’t you think?”

  Glancing around, he saw a number of gaping faces turn his way, but he didn’t back down. Every single, unattached man considered getting married lunacy—until he met a woman who made him consider it. Gil realized that he’d met such a woman. And she was headed to Mexico in three days. Alone.

  He thought of the ranch he’d been so set on establishing, but suddenly the future seemed bleak and dull without a certain shapely little redhead in it. He turned back to the TV, no longer interested in the program but taking a bit of cover while he thought the previously unthinkable.

  So he had been called to Grasslands…but that didn’t mean he was supposed to stay here, did it? He wondered what his grandfather would have said about that, but then, if anyone could understand a man’s true calling, Oscar Valenzuela would have, especially given his current Heavenly viewpoint.

  It suddenly all seemed so clear. Cissy needed him down in Mexico, and he needed her. Now. Always.

  He didn’t realize he’d come to his feet until someone asked where he was going.

  “Oh. Uh, prayer meeting.” Yes, prayer was exactly the thing.

  As he left the common room, he heard a cowboy ask, “Aren’t prayer meetings on Wednesdays?”

  That was the best thing about a man and his Maker, Gil mused, they could have a prayer meeting all on their own any night of the week.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The freckle-faced pastor smiled at the packed congregation. “I’m happy to see so many of you here tonight to pray for our own Cecelia Locke as she ventures into the mission field.”

  As he went on, describing Cissy’s call to missions, her long association with Angeles del Orfelinato de Dios, her new position as the orphanage director and the challenges that awaited her, Cissy surveyed the church. She nodded at her mother and continued on, taking in every face. Then her gaze fell on the solemn expression of Gil Valenzuela, and she could go no further as tears filled her eyes.

  Oh, how she would miss him! The person she had known the least amount of time would be the one she would miss the most.

  She came out of her thoughts with a jolt as numerous individuals moved forward to surround her. They reached out, resting their hands on her head, shoulders and arms. Jeb began to pray, seeking protection, wisdom, support and power on Cissy and her mission. Others voiced prayers on her behalf. In due course, silence fell. After several uninterrupted seconds of silence, the pastor ended the exercise by invoking the name of Christ Jesus.

  Heads rose. Hands fell away. Petitioners moved quietly back to their seats, leaving Cissy standing at the front of the church with Jeb behind her in the pulpit.

  “I charge each of you here tonight with praying regularly for Cissy and the children to whom she will minister,” Jeb said. He addressed Cissy next. “Cecelia, as you go boldly forward into this work, the prayers and hearts of Grasslands Community Church go with you.” As he spoke, Cissy half-turned to face him without putting her back to the congregation. “You may go alone in one sense,” he said, “but in another—”

  “She’s not going alone,” declared a familiar voice, a voice that stopped Cissy’s heart.

  She angled her head to find Gil on his feet, looking as surprised as she felt.

  “What’s that?” Jeb asked, obviously confused.

  Gil dropped his hat onto the seat behind him. “I—I guess I should say, she doesn’t have to go alone.” Sliding past an older couple to the aisle, he added, “I want to go with her.”

  “Go with her?” Sally echoed uncertainly.

  Hope surged, bringing Cissy onto her toes, even as her fevered brain found a way to make sense of this. “To deliver the donations, you mean.”

  Gil glanced around, then he locked his gaze on Cissy’s face and strode forward. “That’s not what I mean.”

  Her heart began to slam against her ribs. “But what about Grasslands and your ranch?” she asked.

  Shrugging, Gil said, “Let’s just say that Grasslands was the beginning of my calling and that God used the notion of ranching to get me here.”

  “Are you saying that you’re now called to the mission field?”

  Stepping right in front of her, he smiled ever so slightly. “I don’t know.” He lifted his capable, work-hewn hand and cupped her cheek. “What I do know,” he said calmly, warmly, “is that if I’m called to anything, sweetheart, then I’m called to loving you.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Delight filled Cissy as Gil took both her hands in his right there in the front of the packed church.

  Philippians 4:19 swept through her mind. And my God will meet all your needs according to the riches of His glory in Christ Jesus.

  Cissy blinked back tears and mentally gave thanks for such generosity. Gil squeezed her hands, calling her gaze back to his.

  “We need to talk.” Glancing around, he added, “In private.”

  As one, they moved toward the door that led into the rear of the building. Cissy’s thoughts tumbled from her lips.

  “I can help you apply to the Mission Board. A-and as director, I can offer you the job of handyman. That will—”

  Gil stopped in his tracks, swinging around to face her. “I don’t want to go to Mexico as your handyman. I want to go as your husband.”

  Husband. The word echoed through the suddenly silent sanctuary. Lodging itself in Cissy’s heart, it swelled to fill every crack and hollow. Her brain, however, lagged behind.

  “You want to marry me?”

  Gil’s dark eyes smiled. “What part of I love you don’t you get?”

  Crying out with delight, she threw her arms around him.

  “I love you, too! And I need you with me.”

  He drew her into a tight embrace, saying, “We can get married in Oklahoma tomorrow—no waiting period—and still leave on Friday.”

  She answered him with a kiss. The sound of applause broke them apart. She’d completely forgotten where they were! Sharing a look with Gil, she burst out laughing. He joined her as Sally rushed forward.

  “At least I know you’re not going alone!” she wailed, hugging Cissy. Then she thumped Gil in the center of his broad chest, declaring, “But I want my grandbabies born on this side of that border!”

  He slipped an arm around Cissy, promising, “We’ll do our best.”

  Then Jeb was there, and Belle Colby and so many others, all laughing and congratulating the happy couple.

  “I wish you could do the honors,” Cissy told Jeb, “but we just don’t have the time.”

  “Maybe you could stand witness for us, though,” Gil proposed.

  Jeb beamed ear-to-ear. “It would be my pleasure. In the meantime, how about I bless your engagement? In Biblical times, that was as binding as a legal marriage.”

  “With the wedding slated for tomorrow,” Sally noted wryly,
“it’ll be a short one.”

  “Short but sweet,” Cissy whispered, gazing up at Gil.

  “Followed by a long and happy marriage,” he promised.

  Chapter Twenty

  Pastor Jeb Miller wasn’t sure that he’d ever enjoyed a wedding more. Cissy Locke, the bride—and formerly his secretary—wore the bodice of her grandmother’s wedding gown with a white skirt. A pillbox hat and veil perched atop her curly, upswept, orange-red hair. Sally, the weepy mother of the bride, offered the couple the wedding bands that she and Cissy’s late father had worn so happily.

  As best man rather than officiant, Jeb plotted a course to Hollis, Oklahoma. Along the way, Gil Valenzuela, the groom, used his cell phone to locate a florist and order a bouquet for the bride. He stood up in his best jeans, dress boots, white shirt and string tie. Jeb surprised Gil by arranging an interface on his laptop with Gil’s family back in South Dakota, so they could witness the simple ceremony.

  The newly joined Mr. and Mrs. Valenzuela made the one-hundred-plus-mile ride back to Grasslands snuggling in the rear seat of the young pastor’s sedan while discussing the next day’s big move. Gil would lead the caravan of donated goods in his old truck, Cissy at his side, leaving her junker behind to be sold.

  They arrived at the church, where a reception had been organized. Belle Colby offered a guest cottage on the Colby ranch for the wedding night.

  Because they would be leaving for Mexico at five o’clock the next morning, the evening would, by necessity, end early, so Jeb declared the reception over by midafternoon, reasoning that the newlyweds ought to have a few hours alone. Before everyone departed, however, he paraphrased 2 Peter 1:2–3 as a blessing on the couple.

  “Grace and peace be yours in abundance through our Lord, who has called you by His own glory and goodness and given you everything you need for a godly life. Always remember,” he added, “that you are called first and foremost to love.”

  Watching them together, he didn’t think that would be a problem. No, the only problem he could see, as the bride and groom dashed through a shower of rice toward Cissy’s old car, decorated from bumper to bumper, was that of replacing the church secretary. Hearing his sigh, Belle Colby stepped up to his side.

  “Don’t worry, Pastor. God has just the right person for the job. In fact,” she went on, handing him a folded sheet of paper, “the personnel committee just received this résumé. Name’s Sadie Johnson. Looks like a real good match.”

  Jeb tucked the single sheet into his jacket pocket. Funny how even the simplest wedding could make a fellow hopeful about the future.

  THE END

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  IMPRINT: Mills & Boon

  ISBN: 9781488721496

  TITLE: CALLED TO LOVE

  First Australian Publication 2014

  Copyright © 2014 Arlene James

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilisation of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the permission of the publisher, Harlequin Mills & Boon®, Locked Bag 7002, Chatswood D.C. N.S.W., Australia 2067.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

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