Redemption for the Cowboy

By Z. Peabody

Christ hath redeemed us from the curse of the law. —Galatians 3:13

Remington Haylord is a preacher’s son. Remington was raised with a respect and love of the Word of God and a love of taking care of animals. Instead of running with his biker buddies down in Texas, Remington ran with the horses. Although Remington has not always led his life according to the Word, he knows that not every walk with Christ is an easy one, and yet, he feels a preacher’s life is not for him. Now, after a few years in the corporate arena, he’s found a peaceful life at the Sawyer Ranch.

While standing at the head of a church, officiating his best-friend’s wedding, Remington looks down the aisle and is both shocked and amazed. The hardened heart of this cowboy is softened because walking down the aisle as the maid of honor, in a vision of pastel-yellow, is the most beautiful woman he has ever seen.

"Christ has redeemed me from the curse of the law."

Phoebe Washington has never been to Montana, and if it wasn’t for her best friend’s wedding, she wouldn’t be there now. As soon as she rides beneath the Sawyer Ranch sign, she’s ready to turn around and board the first plane back to her concrete-jungle home—downtown Chicago—with her favorite tea shop on the corner and the courtroom drama she hates. Phoebe can handle her own in the courtroom. Fighting is one of the things she does best, but Phoebe doesn’t need to fight her way to the glass table. Phoebe makes her own table.

Despite any first impressions, Phoebe has a change of heart about staying on in Montana when she sees the big, handsome cowboy standing next to her best friend’s soon-to-be husband. It looks like she’ll be staying in Montana for a while! He’s quiet, withdrawn, and yes, he’s grumpy. Yet on the rare occasions when he does smile, his face lights up like the big Montana sky. But to Phoebe’s chagrin, he avoids her whenever she gets within a few feet of him. How can she make Remington see that here, with him, is where he wants her to be—and where she needs to be?
The Masters of the Caverns is a series of Christ-Based Novellas.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Z. Peabody
• Release date: Jan 6, 2024
• ISBN: 9798985589245

Z. Peabody

Peabody enjoys Christian Romance.A believer in the teachings of Christ, Z. came to Christ at any early age. It was her deep love of Christ's teachings that lead Z. to read Young Adult Christian novels as a teenager. Years later, Z. finally sat down and applied pen to paper to start writing her own Adult Christian Romance novel.“My characters are not perfect, and I wanted to write storylines that show that the walk to Christianity is not always an easy one. I want characters, that have lived a life, away from Christ, and then show how they come into the body of Christ, with a testimony.”"I hope you enjoy the stories that I have created. Each story, plot, Hero, and Heroine have been created to give honor to God. My novels are Christ-centered because God had taken up permanent residence in my life, and I want to give him glory in my writings.”Until next time.—Z. Peabody

Book preview

Prologue

2011

Better now than never.

Service was long today, over three hours, and that’s not even the longest he’s preached before. I know he got the Word of God out. And, as always, at the end of his services, he doesn’t take tithes or donations but instead encourages everyone to give to the poor. There is no joining this church, although there are baptisms.

I am here but a moment. The poor are here always. (KJV).

He won’t take donations or tithes because he says that the Word of God is free. He says, who is he to charge people to come and listen to the Word? Christ our Savior didn’t change for the Word, and one reason for that is because Christ is the Word.

People come from as far as Huntsville to hear one of my father’s sermons, and he never disappoints them. He teaches with such fervor and praise that I can feel the Spirit of God like a warm blanket over the crowd.

So, how does he provide well for a wife and two children? His second love is ranching. Our family owns this land outside of New Waverly, Texas. We own the Haylord Ranch, a cattle, horse, and rodeo ranch. My father is a fifth-generation rancher as well as a pastor.

My father’s first love, before my mother, is teaching the Gospel of Christ. We have no brick-and-mortar church; instead, we gather in a newly built barn, big enough for about two hundred, and fifty Christ believers.

Before the barn was built, my father held service under a huge tent. When the weather got too cold for services outside, we broke the main service into two and held them in our service garage after we emptied out the large equipment.

My father is the best man on this Earth I know. That is why what I need to tell him will hurt me that much more. I don’t want to disappoint him.

It’s crazy to think that my father was once in the same position with his pa that I am now. My father wanted nothing more than to work the land and handle the stock, until that one summer he spent in Jerusalem, a trip sponsored by his family church.

To satisfy his father, he decided to become a full-time rancher after my father finished high school, but before he took up the reins alongside my grandpappy, he left for four years to attend the University of Texas to study business. But that wasn’t good enough for my father; he didn’t want to just study business, he also wanted to study religion and God and to understand and teach the Word of God—and that’s just what he set out to do.

My grandpappy wasn’t happy about my father doing contrary to what he wanted—and that is going into the family business. My father put that off for a few years by going to Jerusalem with his pa’s church. While there, my father got the Word so deep in his Spirit that he was shaken to his core. My father came back with his feet planted to teach the Word of God, but Grandpappy had other plans.

As a result, my father didn’t begin his teachings in the Word of God or his work on the family ranch until he fell out with Grandpappy. And it wasn’t until years later that my grandpappy confessed that he’d made a mistake and had no right to stand in the way of what God has planned for my father’s life.

Now, my father teaches and preaches the Gospel without taking tithes or a list of membership. It took my sister and me months to bring my father around to building an email list so as to send out an email if services were cancelled, allowing people to avoid traveling all the way out here for nothing.

After each service, the crowd always helps fold the chairs and put them away. Now, standing next to him is my mother, a Jewish daughter from Jerusalem, where my father met her during his studies abroad. I think about my own time in Jerusalem. My sister and I had gone to live one summer with my mother’s family, and while there, we got to absorb the teachings of my Jesus Christ in Heaven. For me, I ended up moving there for two years to study. I came back home wanting to teach the Gospels as my father had. That was a year ago. Now, I still love the Lord, always will, but I no longer want to follow in my father’s footsteps in that manner.

When I was away, I missed my family, and I missed the ranch and the animals. So much so, I found myself looking up degree programs in animal science here at home, in Texas. I love the Lord. I breathe the Word of God, but animal science calls to me too.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve dreamed of asking my father to let me work with the hands, taking care of the animals on the farm portion of our ranch. But for the time being, I wrangle and train the horses and transport the cattle. I’m where I’m needed.

What’s got such a frown across your brow, son?

I look to my left to see my mother and sister walking toward the entrance of the barn and my father standing next to me.

Oh, just some things on my mind, I say and put a chair in its place alongside the stack resting against the barn wall.

My mother turns. I’ll get lunch started.

As if sensing my need to talk, my father calls after Ma, I’ll hang back with Rem.

When both my mother and sister walk out, my father turns to me, puts his arm around my shoulders, and together, we walk out of the barn and then sit on the bench just outside the barn doors.

When today’s Sunday service started, it was eleven in the morning; now, it’s just past two-thirty. The sun is high, and the warm summer winds will be weaning soon, it being the end of August.

You finally ready to tell me what’s been on your mind these past few weeks, son? my father asks.

I’ve never known my father to be an unfair father or boss. He has ever worked hard alongside the men and women employed on our ranch. I’ve always heard good things about him among the workers on our ranch, the folks in town, and especially the people who come to hear him teach the Gospels in his sermons.

It’s his fairness toward others that I’m counting on toward me now. Pa… I got into… I registered for classes at the community college, I blurt out.

He nods, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

I continue, Pa, you have the gift of teaching the Gospel, but I don’t think I have that gift. I get that I’m only twenty-four, but I know my right mind, and I think, for me…health and maintenance and disease control in animals is what I want to do with my life. I lean forward with my elbows on my knees, mimicking his pose, and wait for his reply. When he doesn’t, I go on. You told me you’ve wanted to be a preacher as far back as you can remember…

You listened, he comments, smiling.

Yes, sir. I then blurt out, Pa, I don’t want to be a preacher. I want to work in animal science.

My father just looks at me intently. He doesn’t blink, nor is there a look of shock on his face. His facial expression gives nothing away.

In my twenty-four years, I have never heard my father raise his voice to me, my sister, or my mother. Not even when I may have needed a good talking to, my father never lost himself to anger.

My father is a big man. Standing over six-foot-six, with a big barrel chest, he is very commanding and, at times, intimidating but in a quiet way. But despite all of that, my father is the most soft-spoken man anyone would ever meet.

But the smile that he wore before we came outside to talk a minute ago starts to turn into a frown, and his once joyful eyes look at me with a cold intensity before he says, Well, I’m happy about that. We can always use as many types of animal science degrees on the ranch as we can get. I much appreciate you wanting to look out for your future, but that’s not all that’s on your mind, is it, son?

No, sir. I don’t want to work the ranch. I want to work alongside corporations to develop solutions. I want to change the world, I confess with great enthusiasm.

Pa looks away, staring off into the distance for a time.

I want to work in the health, maintenance, and disease control of animals. But the best way for me to make changes is to get a corporation behind me with strong ties to the government.

I thought you wanted to work the ranch, he mentions, still not looking at me.

I think I can work for the better good and toward the best changes to ranching if I go where I can make the most difference.

Ranching is making a difference. We’re not just ranchers, son, we take care of the land. He looks at me.

I understand, but I don’t think ranching is for me right now. I want to sit at the table and help from the boardroom. That’s where it all happens.

What happens, son?

The difference, I stress to him. Then, that difference goes to the statehouse, then to big government. Laws can be influenced that could go global. What good is it if we do good here, with our stock, if we can’t spread out over the country?

Global, huh?

Yes. My ideas would almost eradicate disease in stock with just a hormone, antibiotic-free, simple injection, I say with hopeful glee.

Without hesitation, Pa responds, Well isn’t that what we do with the Word of God, son? We teach and show ourselves approved. We spread the Word.

Yeah, but I want to sit at the table and make discussions, I press on.

You don’t need to buy your way at the table, son. You can make your own table. We have a research facility right here on Haylord Ranch.

Now, the Haylord Ranch is not just any old ranch. My father said as soon as my grandpappy retired, he and my grandma moved down to their place in Galveston, so that Pa could go through with his plan to use the Haylord Ranch name, to turn it into not just a ranch but also a corporation, and he did just that. He also teaches the Word of God, and he does that better than anyone I know on this Earth, beside, Jesus, The Word, himself.

Yeah, but what changes are they making down there? I protest. They investigate, but they don’t try to change laws. They only do work for the ranch. I want to do work that will benefit the world.

The world is a big place, son. May not always be a safe place, Pa warns me.

You taught me to never be afraid. God didn’t give us the Spirit of fear. That’s what the Word says, I counter.

He smiles and nods, then looks at me intently for a moment before he says, Son, I wouldn’t want you to waste all that good God enthusiasm about the Gospels you’ve learned. When you got up there to teach a few Sundays back, I was shaken to my Spirit. You have a Spiritual gift, son.

Pa, I will always love the Lord. But I have to find my way, like you did, I persist.

Now, the decision as to what I want to do with my career life is ultimately mine to make. But I need my parents’ money to pay for my college classes.

Well, you make a good speech, and you’re your own man, son. I won’t stand in your way…

My Spirit is lifted.

…but you have to ask yourself, is this the calling of God or of this world?

I’ve gone in prayer. I’m not wanting to do something against the Word of God. I want to help.

Well, then, there is nothing else I need to say. He starts to walk toward the house.

I holler out, I’m asking for the money for tuition.

He stops dead in his tracks, and without turning around, he hollers back, No.

One

Twelve-Years Later

"I’m packing right now…. No, I’m not waiting till the last minute…. I’m just putting some last-minute things in my bag…. I forgot them, okay?" I say over the phone.

I can always tell when Penni is stressed about something—she talks a lot. And when she’s stressed at me, she calls me a lot to vent over what she’s stressed at me about.

Penni and her husband, Quint, are finally having their wedding reception and taking their honeymoon after being married for over a year.

I reach for the bag that holds my toiletries. Listen, I have to go. I’ll see you in… I look at my cell to check the time. …five hours. Bye.

I end the call and throw my phone on the bed right on top of a folder with a stack of papers inside. I take a second look at the folder. That’s why I’m running late—I was going through some papers and writing down notes. I got sidetracked.

I reach for the folder, grab my notepad sitting next to it with my other hand, set the notepad on the file, and then flip through the pages of my notes. I really want to read more into this case, but I know, I only have an hour before the car gets here to take me to the airstrip and the private jet that Quint sent for me. He’s so Bawse.

Instead of going over this file on the plane, I’ll probably take a nap. I always sleep on plane flights. It’s what I do. I put the file in my bag atop my laptop, portable hard drive, a couple of romance novels—Christian romance, of course—and my case with my flash drives. Now, I have to pack my clothes.

My phone rings again. I look at the caller ID. Penni. I swipe and answer, putting her on speaker. Yes, Mrs. Sawyer?

I hate when you call me that. I told you, Mrs. Sawyer is Quint’s mother, Penni reminds me, clearly agitated.

Well, right now, you’re acting like a mother. What do you want? I ask.

How close are you to finally packing your clothes?

She knows me so well. For your information…I just finished packing my toiletries.

Penni and I have been best friends since elementary school—third grade, to be exact. Our families are not very close, but Penni and I hit it off on the second day of school.

Our families live five houses down from each other, still do. She was always at my house, and yep, I’m not going to say that Penni’s parents are uptight, but, well…they’re uptight. Still, they are cool people.

So, basically, you’re just packing, and your clothes are still in a heap on your bed? she accuses me.

I look at the freshly cleaned clothes thrown on my bed, with my suitcases sitting in the middle of the mess. I could lie, but I can’t. Basically is all I say ’cause I can’t argue with the truth.

That’s why I love practicing law. I want the truth. I couldn’t wait to get into the trenches, to start paying my dues and practicing my talent at my parents’ private law practice. I jumped in headfirst with hope and prayer and have never looked back.

I’ve wanted to practice law as far back as I can remember. Both my parents are attorneys, and I honestly believe if I had a sibling, he or she would be in that profession too. My parents raised me on such idealistic ventures as helping those who have been served an injustice letter, and from that upbringing, I know that there is always truth to be found.

Some of my classmates have parents with their own firms, and I know that the last thing they wanted to do after school was to work with their mothers and fathers, but I don’t share that mindset. I have to get my start somewhere. Why not with my family? My dad and mom are two of the coolest people I know, which is an added bonus.

My mother got into law because of the injustices done to my father while they dated in high school. My father was discriminated against time after time for scholarships, college, jobs, and for his standing as an athlete.

My father went into law to help those who had suffered similar social injustices.

Well, you only have about an hour to finish packing before the car picks you up, Pheb. The jet only has a small window during which to pick you up. The take-off time is very strict, Penni warns me.

I know, I know, I say, flinging more clothes in my suitcases.

If you know this, why did you wait till the last minute to pack? she practically shouts in my ear.

Penni and I also attended college together up until I left for law school in DC. The long distance couldn’t keep us apart. Penni is my prayer partner and warrior and my best friend.

For a lawyer, you aren’t very organized, she jokes, trying to get under my skin.

Penni isn’t really angry with me. I’ve known her long enough to know that when she gets like this, she’s just nervous about something, and in this case, it’s the reception.

I am so organized. I’m just not as uptight as you are, I come back at her.

Hey… She tries to sound offended, but I know better.

Oh, it’s the truth, and you know it, I defend myself.

I may be a little bit of a procrastinator with what I consider small things that don’t affect my lifelong responsibilities. For example, when it comes to packing, cleaning, and cooking,