Page 32 of A Marriage Pact for the Cowboy

Eli grinned and shook his head. “You haven’t experienced a true blizzard yet, love. Just a bit of snow.”

“A bit of snow that gets neck-deep and takes out the power lines.” She gave him a mock glare.

Dad chuckled. “We get some snow and a lot of wind in Kansas. Maxwell told us to expect more snow but less wind, in general.”

“Sounds right.” Eli checked his watch. “The service is about to begin, so we should find our seats. Our senior pastor, Marshall Smith, is preaching today. I hope you’ll enjoy his sermon and be challenged as well. Good to meet you.”

“We’ll have to get together.” Harper fluttered her fingers at Eryn as she tucked her hand in the crook of her husband’s elbow then turned away.

A gorgeous woman like Harper, married to a pastor, wouldn’t follow through on that, but it was a nice, welcoming gesture.

Welcoming guitar and piano music flowed from the sanctuary as Eryn stepped through the doors from the foyer.

“There’s a couple of seats,” Dad whispered, gesturing to their right.

Eryn slipped in, only to realize she sat beside Nadine with Weston and Paisley beyond. She flashed a quick smile. “Hi.”

Dad leaned past her to shake Nadine’s hand, then Weston’s. He’d probably have reached for Paisley’s if he could, but the worship leader invited everyone to stand and sing the opening song, “Come, Now Is the Time to Worship.”

A pang of nostalgia slammed Eryn, memories of Fount of Grace Fellowship back home with Mom standing between Amelia and her to keep them from poking at each other. The Gilead worship team was more professional than here, more polished. That probably had something to do with the music track at the Bible college. Many students in the preaching and drama pathways also participated in Sunday morning services onstage.

Creekside Fellowship was a small-town church with a western flair, with a lot of people wearing jeans and sweatshirts. Eryn smoothed her floral skirt and tugged at the hem of her pastel pink sweater as she furtively glanced around. The only woman who looked more dressed up had been the youth pastor’s stunning wife.

Also, she’d missed most of the song. A portly middle-aged man took the platform and offered an opening prayer before the worship leader invited them all to sing once again. There were new songs and old favorites. Maybe it wasn’t that different from back home.

Was Gilead still home? She pushed that thought out of her head as she tried to focus on the worshipful lyrics.

Then her gaze caught on a row of Sullivans off to the side. Maxwell with his wavy hair sat between his brothers, his three-year-old nephew snuggled into his lap.

Aww. Was there anything sweeter than seeing a big, tough guy holding a little kid like it was no big deal? Not that Maxwell was big. He was more on the wiry side, but the tough part of the label fit. The man had muscles that went for miles, probably from all the power tools and building materials he handled.

She’d love to watch him at work sometime, but that might be construed as creepy. Besides, she’d be confined to the kitchen… except he’d hinted that if she had an interest in the resort’s gift shop, a transfer could be arranged.

The sweetgrass sachets were a no-brainer, and she’d looked up the native grass to discover it was also used for basket-weaving and other crafts. So… a section for sweetgrass.

Then, just plain sweets to keep playing on the ranch name. Locally made candy? She’d do some research and see if that existed.

Local pottery was a nice start, but there were probably other artisans, too. Maybe someone who created stained glass designs or landscape paintings or carved horses or…

“All God’s promises are yes and amen, according to the Bible. That means if He says it, He will do it. Period.”

Eryn blinked at the man in the pulpit. Oh, dear, she was woolgathering like crazy instead of paying attention in church.

God’s promises. Check. There were many of them in scripture. She should make a study of them… or maybe that’s what Pastor Marshall was on about?

She slipped the bulletin from Dad’s lap and scanned the sermon information inside. Hmm. Looked like part three of a longer series on covenant promises. She’d do better to focus on Pastor Marshall’s words than to let her mind wander.

“We humans have our own timelines. We’re like sweetgrass, blooming for a short while, then dying off, while God is eternal. Not only can He see a much bigger picture than we can, but He created that bigger picture so unfathomable to us temporary beings.”

Wasn’t that the truth? It wasn’t even possible for humans to understand how little they understood.

“As a father has compassion on his children, so the Lord has compassion on those who fear him; for he knows how we are formed, he remembers that we are dust. The life of mortals is like grass, they flourish like a flower of the field; the wind blows over it and it is gone, and its place remembers it no more.” Pastor Marshall paused, holding up his Bible. “But from everlasting to everlasting the Lord’s love is with those who fear him, and his righteousness with their children’s children — with those who keep his covenant and remember to obey his precepts.”

The pastor’s gaze ranged the quiet sanctuary. “Psalm 103 is David’s writing. He knew how insignificant he was, but he clung to God’s promise of His loving, compassionate presence. The same God is still our God today, and we can know Him more fully than David ever could. We have the New Testament, which tells the story of how Jesus fulfilled the Law and the Prophets. David only glimpsed hints of that in a future mostly obscured from him. But we have it all right here.”

Up went the leather-bound book once again. “We can read God’s promises, and we can see how they have been accomplished. All of them? Not yet. But there is ample evidence to leave no room for doubt that God will fulfill the remainder as well.”

Dad shifted restlessly beside Eryn, but a surreptitious glance his direction revealed his rapt attention focused on the pastor.

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