Her Montana Cowboy

“Can’t see well enough through the face mask,” Ryan replied. “Besides, it throws off my balance.”

“It’s still better than getting your head stomped flat. Do you have any idea how close you came just now?”

“He missed, didn’t he?” One eyebrow arched. “Well?”

She gave him an exaggerated pouting look. “Yes. This time he did. What about the next time? Or the time after that?”

“Worried? Careful, or folks will think you care.”

“I do.”

“What about all that talk of praying for me?”

“I did. I was. But that doesn’t mean you can’t still get hurt.”

“Then why bother?”

Although he seemed nonchalant and carefree about it, Julie sensed an underlying sense of seriousness, as if he wanted an honest answer.

“Sometimes I wonder about that myself,” she confessed. “But I keep in mind that the Bible says to pray without ceasing and to ask for anything we want.”

“Sounds like a kid writing to Santa.”

Sobering, she shook her head. “Not at all. It’s a connection with our faith, with God and Jesus, that helps me all the time, no matter what answers I get.”

“Really?”

His arched eyebrows and evident skepticism were disturbing but not enough to dissuade her. “Yes, really. As a believer, if I trust God to do what’s best for me and try to listen and stay in His will, then I’ll know what to pray for and He’ll help me achieve it.”

“If you say so.”

“I do.” Forcing a smile, she looped her hand around his elbow and fell into step beside him. “I know where they stashed the leftovers from the picnic. Are you hungry now that your rides are over for the day?”