Moving On

By J. J. Shreffler

Near the beautiful, small town of Tuckersville, Tennessee, lives the independent and gorgeous Lauren Guthrie. Raising and training cutting horses for the family farm, Lauren has her priorities in line, and she knows what she wants out of lifethat is, until she meets someone who changes those priorities in a single moment. Derek Turner, a devastatingly handsome and ambitious lawyer, is instantly struck by the allure and fire he finds in the eyes of Lauren. Together, they face some of life's toughest temptations and tragic challenges.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Jun 10, 2015
• ISBN: 9781490878263

J. J. Shreffler

J.J. Shreffler writes from her Montana cattle ranch, where she and her husband are raising their sons. When she's not writing, you might find her horseback, checking calves, moving cows, driving a tractor, or playing with her boys. She feels blessed to be bringing her kids up in the ranching lifestyle, and she enjoys teaching them the value of hard work. Keep up with her at www.jjshreffler.com, or follow J. J. Shreffler on Facebook.

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Copyright © 2015 J. J. Shreffler.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

WestBow Press

A Division of Thomas Nelson & Zondervan

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Bloomington, IN 47403

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

ISBN: 978-1-4908-7827-0 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4908-7828-7 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4908-7826-3 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2015906665

WestBow Press rev. date: 06/09/2015

CONTENTS

Acknowledgements

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2

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A Prayer for Salvation

Where Do You Go From Here?

1

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

First and most importantly, I would like to thank God for giving me the inspiration to write this story. I would never have thought of this idea on my own.

I am a believer in messages. I think God talks to us all the time, and it is up to us to listen to what He has to say. I am sure everyone interprets Him differently, but He speaks to me through other people, through His Word, through my heart, and through His beautiful creation. I know when He is talking to me. I know by the way the message imprints itself on my heart, or the way it makes me stagger with shock, because, usually He wants me to do something I really do not want to do, or be a part of something that intimidates me. I know He is always with me, and this thought gives me strength.

I would also like to thank my husband, Rafe, for encouraging me to complete this book and for allowing me the hours, during our chaotic ranch life, it took me to complete it.

Thank you to my friends and family for your unfailing support of my creative writing projects, you have always lifted me up.

Finally, thank you. Thank you for reading this book. I hope it speaks to you as it did me.

-J.J.

This book is dedicated to,

Rafe, Blake & Ty

You are the reason I have a love story to tell…

1

Tuckersville, Tennessee, 1999

Lauren Guthrie woke with a start, jumping out of her cozy bed and nearly falling with her legs tangled in the covers, before her feet managed to find the floor. A quick glance at the clock on the bedside table told her it was just after two in the morning. She was right on time. Not bothering to change out of her flannel pajama pants, she pulled a hooded sweatshirt over her head, shuffled down the hall, and then headed downstairs to the mudroom at the back of the house. She slipped into a warm chore coat and pulled on her muck boots, reciting in her heart a silent plea that everything would be all right in the barn. She had to be sneaky. Horses were funny that way, waiting until all was quiet and still before bringing their newborns into the world. May, Lauren’s sorrel mare, had been acting agitated all afternoon, with her teats full of milk, pacing along her pasture fence, and pinning her ears at the other horses. Usually she was laid-back and quite friendly.

Lauren had high hopes for this foal, as May was one of her favorite broodmares. As a team, she and May had won a good chunk of money in cutting competitions over the last five years. Though not enough to pay her full college tuition, it had been enough to cover the difference that her scholarships did not. This coming spring, it would be a year since she graduated with honors and an agricultural business degree. What college did not teach her about running the family business, she had already learned from her parents. The hardest part about going away to college was having to be away from the farm. Besides missing her family, she was often homesick for the horses, the fresh air, and the work that she had to leave behind. It was unlike her to allow someone else to do her chores, feed and care for her mares, and keep track of the daily goings-on around the farm. It felt so good to be there full time now.

She had her own house on the opposite side of the farm from the home she grew up in. With white siding, black shudders, a bright, red entry door, and a wrap around porch, it was a charming guest house. A spacious living room opened up into her modest kitchen. A half-bath, mudroom, guest room, and a small office completed the downstairs. Her bedroom and full bathroom were upstairs in the loft. Though not more than thirteen hundred square feet, the little house was perfect for Lauren. She’d painted the walls with relaxing hues and furnished the place with Western décor. This was definitely her space, and she appreciated the privacy and freedom this house afforded her.

She stepped out into the chilled darkness of the night. The nearly full moon sent out enough light to guide her down the well-worn path to the barn. The old building was built extremely solid with rough hewn timbers and boards. The cracked, faded paint that used to be white, showed the beating borne of time and weather. She used to nap in the hay as a kid. At times, she and her sister, Kate, would hide from their friends and cousins in the dusty hayloft. Though time had changed its appearance, the smells in the old barn remained the same: sweet grass-alfalfa hay, leather, and horses. These scents greeted her as she slid the huge aisle door open. When the doorway was just wide enough, she squeezed inside as quietly as possible. Lauren could hear the welcome sounds of May nickering, huffing softly, and a faint suckling sound. Relief washed over her as she peeked into the foaling stall to see mamma and baby curled around each other as the foal gingerly nursed. On long, gangly legs, the foal was swishing its fuzzy tail, indicating that it was indeed getting a full belly. After grabbing a small bottle of iodine from a shelf, Lauren opened the latch on the stall door, slid it ajar, and went inside, closing it behind her. First she went to May.

Good girl, May Mama. Look at what you did.

Though she patted May on her neck, the mare was more preoccupied with her foal. Lauren reached out to touch the little rump where May was nuzzling it and worked her way around until she was standing beside the foal. Reaching underneath its belly, she doused its umbilical cord with the iodine. She discovered that the foal was a colt. He was sorrel just like May, but he had one white hind sock and a blaze down his finely featured face. He realized that she was there and peered around his shoulder to look at her. He stretched out his whiskered muzzle and smelled her and then went back to his mother for more milk. Not wanting to spoil the moment any further, Lauren scooped up the placenta and left the stall. She put the heavy afterbirth into a garbage bag and tied it tightly shut. They always kept the afterbirth bags refrigerated in the vet room for a few days in case the need arose later for diagnosis of disease or defects.

It was a cold February night, but with the body heat from May and a couple of other horses in the barn, the colt was warm and nearly dry. Lauren checked on everyone else before leaving the barn, closing the door, and walking back up to her house. I have so much to be grateful for, she thought as she looked up at the stars in the sky. The house felt warm as she entered via the back door into the mudroom. Shucking off her boots, coat, and sweatshirt, she went into the kitchen and flipped on the light above the sink. She grabbed a glass from the cabinet and filled it with tap water. She took a few swallows and eyed the clock on the stove, two-forty-five. Still time to sleep a while before the alarm goes off, Lauren thought. She thudded up the stairs and melted back into bed. She said a silent prayer of thanks for the safety and health of May and her new colt before sleep overtook her.

2

During the weeks that followed, Lauren stayed busy with her daily routine. She woke early every morning in order to have her first steamy cup of coffee, before the sun made its way over the Smoky Mountain foothills beyond the farm. Her morning chores began with feeding the horses hay and grain. Then Lauren would fix herself a little breakfast and allow everyone else their time to eat. Then she put the ones out who’d been kept in the barn overnight, and cleaned the stalls. After filling water buckets and tanks, she checked on the foals. May had been the last of Lauren’s three mares to foal, and the new colt was rapidly growing and looking well proportioned with long legs, a sleek neck, and a well muscled rump. Her dad had a small band of well-bred mares with foals and a stud, named Pistol, who was a son of Playgun. This year provided Pistol’s second generation of colts on the farm. The Guthrie family raised and trained cutting horses. These horses competed in cowhorse events across the country. Guthrie Performance Horses was known for producing horses with exceptional athleticism and talent in the show arena. Some of the horses went on to be breeding stock or reliable ranch horses.

Most of the foals were sold as weanlings in the fall every year, but a couple were kept on the farm to grow into show prospects for the family. This would be Lauren’s first set of foals to sell in the fall, and she already had a few interested buyers. After chores, she devoted some time to catching up on the farm’s bookwork and record keeping. Even with cutting prospects bringing top dollar, it was a juggling act to keep the farm afloat. Feed, hay, vet, and farrier bills ate away each month at the annual profits. In spite of the high overhead, her father’s theory was, if he got the miles and experience on the horses and proved to everyone how talented the horses were, then they could sell quality weanlings to top trainers and competitors in the business. Guthrie Performance Horses had thrived on that principle for over twenty years now. Lauren was proud and honored to be involved in the farm business. Her dad always said she had a good head for figures and that her love of the horses would always keep her dedicated to the farm. He was right. Lauren did not want to do anything else with her life.

Most days, after lunch, she worked on training. Halter breaking the colts, teaching them to lead, and stand tied kept her busy for a couple hours every day. The rest of her afternoons were spent working horses and running to town for the occasional errand. Her father also worked the farm and spent time helping with the training, maintaining fences, and working on the equipment. Her mother taught preschool in town, and Kate was a sophomore in college. The family made a point of eating supper together at least one night every week, and with Kate away at school, it was usually just the three of them. Lauren checked the horses and fed them again every evening before going in for dinner.

Lauren was looking forward to spending some time with her sister, this weekend Kate would be home for spring break. They were only a few years apart in age and had always been very close. They fought and picked on each other plenty growing up; but now in their twenties, their bond was stronger than ever before. They had chosen different paths. Lauren chose to work the farm with their dad, and while Kate was not sure what she wanted to do yet, she did know that she wanted to have a more glamorous life than that of living and working on the farm. Kate enjoyed the horses, but they were not her main concern. Kate liked to go out and have fun with her friends. She loved parties and shopping. Last time she talked to Lauren on the phone, she mentioned a celebration happening over spring break for a friend of a friend who had finally passed his Bar Exam. Lauren had not been out in a while, and as much as she was a hermit, Kate was a socialite. Kate persuaded Lauren to go to the party with her. It was this Saturday, and they would head to town after dinner.

Lauren checked her watch: it was a little after five on Friday. Kate should be zooming down the driveway any second. After tossing out hay for the horses, and putting Pistol in the barn for the night, she headed across the pasture to her parents’ house. The farm, one-hundred-sixty beautiful acres of rolling grassy hills with a creek running through it, was fifteen minutes out of Tuckersville, Tennessee. Dan and Rebecca Guthrie had always wanted to raise their children in the country, and had purchased the place when Lauren and Kate were in elementary school. Town had grown to a population of nearly twenty-five thousand. Downtown Tuckersville had a historic Main Street, with high end retailers and offices. There were several supersize grocery stores, a huge shopping mall, a farmer’s market, hotels, a business district, and a large variety of specialty shops and restaurants fanning out from the city center. The town had a fair number of elementary, secondary, and high schools. Lauren’s mother taught preschool until three during the week, and usually made it home after running her errands by five or so.

When Lauren strode up the steps leading to the front door, both her parents were enjoying a drink on the porch swing. Scamp, the family dog, a Jack Russell terrier, snoozed at their feet.

Hey Darlin’. Her dad’s southern accent wrapped around the greeting. What can I get you to drink while we wait on Kate for dinner?

I’ll get it Dad, don’t get up. You two look comfortable there. Hi Mamma, She winked at her mom as she went through the screened-front door. Her stomach let out a growl as her nose was assaulted with the delicious aromas of fresh baked bread and pot roast. Thank goodness for crockpots and bread machines, thought Lauren. Her mother must have prepped it all before heading to work that morning. Lauren poured herself a glass from the gallon jar of sun tea on the counter, and then walked back out onto the porch.

Cheers, she said, while she settled onto a cushioned lounge chair. The tea tasted good and felt smooth on her empty stomach. Scamp vacated his napping spot to put his paws on her knee, urging her to scratch him. She obliged him and eventually he wiggled onto her lap.

That colt of May’s is gonna be a dandy, I’m telling you. This from her father. Dan had a good eye when it came to horses. What are you calling him now?

Though the colt had been born sorrel, he was starting to turn gray, like his sire. He had a nice muscular hip and large, intelligent eyes. I named him, Ruger, and I am still waiting on AQHA to find out if I got the registered name I wanted. Lauren replied. Joe Schmidt and Cole Williams are already in a bidding war over him. No one is going to see any of our other colts as long as that flashy boy is out in the pasture.

You could cause an upset if you decide to keep him, and show him yourself. Urged her mother.

I have told them it is a possibility, and that we have several other great prospects to show them this spring.

Good to keep your options open. As her father said that, Kate’s car appeared at the end of the drive.

As usual, Kate was in great spirits as she followed them into the house toward the kitchen. They passed around the food and ate hungrily, as they caught up and visited with one another. Kate inquired about the new foals and Lauren filled her in.

You are so busy with these horses Lauren, Kate gave her sister a hard time, You don’t get out enough, which is why I am taking you out tomorrow night. Kate exclaimed.

They all laughed at the truth of it. Lauren had dated in high school and college. Her high school sweet heart cheated on her, and made her regret wasting so much of her time on him. Though she had met other guys she liked, she never found any of them worthy of the risk of getting her heart broken again.

She was beautiful with light brown hair and deep green eyes, with a sprinkle of freckles across her nose from working outside. Her figure was perfectly shaped and slim from the physical aspects of her work. She attracted the attention of men in town and at the cutting shows. She didn’t mind if a good looking guy treated her to dinner, a movie, or a night dancing. Lauren just didn’t have time for a serious relationship.

After dinner, the girls cleaned up the kitchen and did the dishes. Dan and Rebecca went out to the living room to relax and watch the evening news. When the last pot was dried and put up, the sisters headed upstairs to Kate’s room, where they spent a few hours regaling each other with tales of the last few months apart. It was nearly midnight when Lauren strolled back to her own house. March had come in like a lion, with several inches of rain in the last two weeks. It seemed to shower nearly every afternoon for a few hours, and then the clouds would break, providing a pleasantly crisp evening. The wet spring promised good grass in the pastures for the mares and foals, and fair prices on hay that summer. It was sprinkling again, and she wished she