A man’s heart deviseth his way: but the Lord directeth his steps.
—Proverbs 16:9
Book three of the Big Heart Ranch series is dedicated to the Big Heart Ranch Wranglers. God gives us the story and readers bless us by reading that story.
A special thanks to wrangler Trixi Oberembt, who named Emma’s twins Rachel and Elizabeth, and wrangler Connie Saunders, who named the Big Heart Ranch Christmas celebration the Holiday Roundup.
A final bow to Rhonda Starnes for her helpful input, and to my deadline buddy on this book, SS.
I am blessed to have an amazing team that includes my agent, Jessica Alvarez, who is always on top of things, and the Love Inspired editors, including senior editor Melissa Endlich, who patiently mold me into the best writer I can be.
Contents
“Woo-hoo! Go get ’em, cowboy!”
Emma Maxwell Norman pushed a stroller with her two-year-old twin daughters closer to the Big Heart Ranch main corral, where hoots and hollers of excitement filled the air.
“Excuse me,” she murmured while nudging her way past wall-to-wall people.
Western hats shaded faces against the glare of an early November Oklahoma sun, as the staff and kids of the children’s ranch crowded next to each other atop rungs of the rail wood fencing. Eager children had even settled on the shoulders of adults to view the action in the main ranch arena.
Roars of laughter went up at intervals and heads turned left, then right, following the activity.
“Hey there, Miss Emma,” Dutch Stevens said. The weathered cowboy tipped his hat and stroked his graying handlebar mustache. “Folks, let Miss Emma in.”
The group of male and female wranglers stepped aside.
Inside the stroller, Emma’s twins, Rachel and Elizabeth, barely stirred from their naps as another excited cheer went up. The toddlers had grown accustomed to life on the Timber, Oklahoma, children’s ranch and thankfully could sleep through most of the noise inherent to a ranch that was home to sixty children.
At the far end of the corral, Emma’s big brother, Travis, drove a small ATV in figure eights while pulling a dummy steer and kicking up a cloud of red dirt and sand. A rider straddling a chestnut gelding flew across the corral in an attempt to rope the steer.
There was no surprise at seeing her brother putting on a show, but who was the rider?
“What day is this?” Emma asked Dutch.
“Sunday, ma’am.”
“That’s what I thought.” She frowned. “I didn’t see an event on the schedule for today.”
“Naw, this wasn’t planned. Your brother and his friend are having some fun.”
“They certainly drew a crowd.”
“I’ll say. That big feller on the horse is mighty good. Knows how to rope and he’s faster than small-town gossip. He ought to go professional.”
Applause went up as the horse and rider moved to the right and his lasso caught the bright green mechanical animal below both horns.
Then he smoothly dismounted, pulled off his navy blue ball cap and took a bow, displaying short neatly trimmed brown hair. There was
