And She Lived on the Twilight Side of the Hill: A Story of Christian Romance

By Stan Cotta

It is sad to me how many people actually believe that young Christians will never have the joy of experiencing romance in their lives. I have come to understand that they suppose this because they wrongly assume the Bible strictly prohibits it. Christian romance on God's terms however, is truly a sight to behold. It is very much unlike the romance the world holds out; it is not greedy, not self serving but considerate, favoring the other. In short, it is exciting and thrilling to see unfold before their eyes. Finally, it is blessed by the Lord Himself culminating in the enduring bond of marriage.

In this story, the young Christian rancher, Gilbert Miles has been praying for and anticipating just such a romantic relationship but along the way finds himself off track. The circumstances that follow test the very marrow of his love and trust for his Lord and Savior.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Jun 22, 2016
• ISBN: 9781512737172

Stan Cotta

Stan Cotta was born and raised in the central San Joaquin Valley of California. His parents were of Portuguese decent. His father was a dairyman and farmer and his mother, a housewife. He was raised with two brothers and four sisters. He attended and graduated from Laton Elementary and High Schools. Stan and his wife raised two sons he claims he grew up with. His sons, Matthew, a minister of the Word and sacraments in the Orthodox Presbyterian Church and Michael, an executive chef, and their families live in Carol Stream, Illinois, and Billings, Montana, respectively. He served as department chaplain for Kings County Sheriff’s Department and Jail in Hanford, California, for eleven years. He currently resides on his small horse ranch located between Hanford and Lemoore, California. Counseling has been the primary focus of Stan’s career. He has served as associate relations counselor for a local business in their Human Resources Department located in Lemoore, California. He has served there for fifteen years at this writing.

Book preview

Chapter 1

To Every Thing There Is a Season

F lowing down the purple-hued hills, Grassy Brook shimmered and glistened in the last moments of sun and shadow. The cattle were particularly slow to herd this evening, as they frequently stopped every few steps to munch on the lush grasses growing alongside the gurgling stream. Gil was hungry, having eaten only a small wedge of cheese when he left at sunup and a few blackberries he picked along the way at noonday. He couldn’t get over the way Lily, Lucy, and Lena, the family milk cows, were in no hurry to obey his prodding, so he resigned himself to allow the animals to set their own pace. After all, he knew a hot meal would be waiting when he returned home.

Sitting atop his gelding, he took that time to observe once again the rangeland his granddad and father had loved and worked as young men as he did now. He understood completely his father’s last words to him before he died, which were, I am leaving this life a satisfied man. Resigned to follow in his dad’s footsteps, Gil daydreamed about leasing the adjacent property on the west and doubling the herd size from three hundred to six hundred head of beef cattle. With an ever-so-slight smile on his lips, he breathed in deeply the mixed aroma of fresh pinewood and meadow grass and beheld the sun’s brilliance fading below the orange-and-blue horizon, pondering the future.

At that exact moment, he caught sight of the figure of a young woman, holding what seemed to be a bouquet of meadow flowers at her side. She passed a hundred yards before him and disappeared quickly in the twilight. Concerned that she might be lost, he galloped toward where he saw her pass.

Looking around, he cupped his hands around his mouth and called out, Are you afraid? Do you need help? It’s getting dark; I will help you. There was no answer, and she was nowhere in sight.

Several minutes passed, leaving Gil bewildered. Where did she go? Who could she be? No one lives around here but the Hildebrands, and they live over the mountain on the eastern slope. But they’re old and childless.

Night had fully fallen when he arrived at the ranch, but a full moon lit the path to the wood-planked pens. Gil drew water for the animals, secured the gate, unsaddled, curried, stalled, and fed the gelding, and then made his way to the bunkhouse, where Librado, the long-time ranch foreman, and Pepe, the hired hand, were talking in Spanish.

I brought in the three escapees, Gil announced, chuckling. They were headed up the northern slope. It was slow going and their bags are full, so, Pepe, go ahead and milk them before retiring tonight.

They continued talking awhile about the late-summer drive they were planning, and then Gil headed to the ranch house, where he found his mother bent over the hearth.

You worry me so when you come home late, Gilbert Miles! Now you just sit right down here and eat. You must be starved. You didn’t wake me this morning like I asked you to so I could get your breakfast. You’re just like your father was. You’re going to be the death of me yet, young man, and all because of three strays.

Bending over his mother as she stooped over the pot with her ladle attempting to fill his bowl with stew, he kissed her cheek and said, I want to find a woman just like you and make her my wife.

She turned to him with the bowl of stew in her left hand and swatted him with the dishtowel in her right. Oh, I pity the woman who has to put up with the likes of you! she said in a sassy fashion as she set the bowl on the table. She then grabbed the back of his neck with both of her hands, bent his head toward her, and gave him a big kiss on the forehead.

As they sat across the table from each other, Gil stretched out his arms, and she put her hands in his. Both bowed their heads and hearts as Gil prayed, Father in heaven, for these many blessings we have from Your hand, cause us to be truly grateful. In Christ’s sovereign name we pray. Amen.

Mr. and Mrs. Hildebrand came around today while I was watering the garden, his mother reported as she buttered a slice of bread and handed it to him.

What were they doing out here so far away from home? Gil inquired.

They were in the surrey headed out to pick up Mrs. Hildebrand’s sister Jewel and her granddaughter at the train station in Sandpoint. They lived in Kalispell, Montana. Mrs. Hildebrand told me that Jewel’s husband died last year, and she was unable to work, being elderly and all. Even with her granddaughter working for the mayor’s wife keeping house, the two were unable to maintain a living. Mr. Hildebrand insisted that the two move in with them. They have an extra bedroom, and Mrs. Hildebrand would be much comforted having her sister close.

Leaning over the table to wipe a little bit of jelly off her son’s chin, she continued, I found it odd when Mr. Hildebrand asked me about you, saying in his quiet, timid voice, ‘How is young Gilbert, Teresa? I must say you have a fine son there. He’s going to make a fine husband and father one day.’ You know, of all the years your father and I have known the Hildebrands, I do not recollect Mr. Hildebrand ever speaking a word to me other than, ‘Good afternoon, Tess,’ or ‘Good evening, Tess.’ He was always so quiet; she did all the talking.

Gil took the last swallow of water from his glass, wiped his mouth with his napkin, and smiled. You know, you’re right, Mom. He has always been a man of few words. He’s always had a kind nature and friendly smile and brings to mind how I imagine my grandfather must have been.

After supper, Gil took the Bible, read from Philippians 4, and closed in prayer. Then he stood and started clearing the table, but his mother grabbed the plates from him and made a fuss, saying, That’s women’s work. You go on outside and enjoy the evening on the porch. Turning to the wash pump, she assured him, I’ll be along soon to join you.

After the dishes were done, Teresa wiped her hands dry on her apron and started for the door to join her son but stopped short when she saw him leaning on the porch post, staring out into the darkness in deep thought. She gathered herself and stepped out onto the porch. She quietly walked over to him, put her arms around his waist, and laid her head on his shoulder.

Mr. Hildebrand was right. You are a fine son. I thank the Lord for you every day. Gilbert, you are a full-grown man now, not a boy anymore. I’m concerned about you. You need to start your own life and find a nice young lady to marry and settle down and raise a family. You’re not going to do that staying around here. You can sell the place if you’d like, son. I can move into Sandpoint. I’m still strong and able take on housekeeping and take in laundry for folks there. Don’t worry about me.

Gil kissed the top of her head and squeezed her tight. Looking down into her light blue eyes, he said, "Little lady, I don’t even want to entertain the thought of ever leaving this place, and don’t you get any wild ideas about moving into Sandpoint because I’m not going to allow it. You belong here. You are as much a fixture on this land as Dad was and now I am. The good Lord knows I need a wife and desire a family; it’s only fitting. Didn’t we just read in His Word, ‘I will provide all your needs’?

With a smile of submission, she said, Well, son, I have had a full day. I’m going to bed. Don’t stay up too late. Oh, by the way, would you be able to hitch up the mare and drive me into Sandpoint tomorrow after your morning chores? It’s Wednesday already, and I’m running low on flour and victuals. The Lord’s Day will be here before you know it, and I don’t have a thing to serve. And oh, I completely forgot to tell you. We’re going to have company. I invited the Hildebrands over for lunch after Sunday-morning service. Good night, sweetie.

Chapter 2

The Picnic and the Actress

B right and early the next morning, Gil hitched up the mare and brought the buckboard around to the front porch. Teresa came out of the house, covering her shoulders with her shawl. You really don’t mind taking me into town, do you, son?

There is no place I’d rather be today than with you, Mom. Just you and me and Miss Marmalade, making our way down to town. Maybe we can picnic near the lake after you shop for your supplies. What do you think?

Well, what a pleasant idea. What will you do while I shop?

Oh, I think I’ll just drive on down to the train station and talk to old Jacob, the station master. He’s always good for a tall tale or two.

Gil promised he would pick her up in front of the mercantile at noon.

Jacob and Gil had been visiting for a couple of hours when the old Northern Pacific 112 barreled into the station. As usual, all the young tykes from town were there to watch the engine chug and snort and bellow steam from its belly as it ground to a halt. It was a sight they never tired of. Gil and Jacob watched as the passengers unloaded: a family from out of town there to visit their relatives, businessmen returning from Boise with a satchel full of documents, a merchant there to pick up supplies, and a very fashionable young woman stepping down onto the platform, who captured the eye of Gilbert Miles. He was immediately smitten by her beauty.

Who is she, Jacob? Gil inquired

You mean you’ve never heard of Wilhelmina Lovell? Jacob asked.

Gil answered, shaking his head, I have never. All the while he was unable stop gazing at her, even for a moment.

You don’t get out much do you, Gilly? Jacob chucked. "Yeah, the young lady has made quite a name for herself as a stage actress. She recently starred in Camille at the California Theater in San Francisco