Dr. Morgan - Part 19

Good Morning FFFs,
Well, I'm going to try to give you the next part of Dr. Morgan. We'll see if my computer lets me. You see, my computer is dying and will only let me do somethings. I think it will let me open the next part of the story so I can copy and paste it in.

This week we have stayed at home and it's been so nice! I've gotten to work on things that needed worked on and the week has flown by. I have even been able to get back into writing again!!! Yay! After about three weeks of not writing TCR-4, I've gotten two parts written. I'm still not very far into the story, but I think you'll like it. :)
What would you all say if I published "The Graham Quartet and the Mysterious Strangers?" Would anyone be interested in having it in book form? And do I have any readers out there who would like to try their hand at illustrating? If so, let me know at readanotherpage [at] gmail [dot] com.

Before I give you the story, here's one more quote from Doodle Bug you can chuckle over.
He was sitting at the table eating a snack of "yogrit" last week and says to me, "I put salt and pepper in my yogrit. It taste yummy!" A few minutes later after he had eaten a bite or two: "I not want to eat it." :) So the next time you think of adding salt and pepper to your yogurt, just remember Doodle Bug has already tried it and, though the initial reaction was delight, reality soon hit and you may not want to eat it either. :)

Dr. Morgan

Part 19

    Limping quickly from the dining room, while tears ran down her cheeks, the troubled girl fled to her room where she collapsed onto her bed and sobbed. Up until that time her forgotten memory had been troubling, but now she felt helpless and alone.
    Back in the kitchen, Mrs. Morgan had heard the cry and hurried into the dining room only to find Amy gone. A quick glance at the unset table, and Mrs. Morgan was sure of what had happened. Stepping into the front room where the rest of the family was gathered, she said, “Adam, Sara, will you please finish supper and see that the table gets set?”
    It was obvious that all had seen Amy’s distress, for Mr. Morgan, Sara and Adam all looked troubled. “Of course, Mom,” Adam replied quietly, standing up to take the spoon from his mother’s hand. “Come on, Sara.”
    With many anxious glances down the hall after her mother, Sara slowly followed her brother into the other room, having set Jenny on the couch to read stories with Danny.
    Pausing in the open doorway of Amy’s room, Mrs. Morgan looked with tender eyes at the sobbing girl on the bed. She was so young and looked so helpless at that moment. “Amy,” she said softly, stepping in and sitting on the edge of the bed.
    Amy, on hearing her name spoken and feeling the gentle touch of a hand, wailed, “Why can’t I remember?”
    “I don’t know, Child,” Mrs. Morgan answered softly. “I don’t know.” Tenderly she stroked the light hair, praying inwardly for wisdom and comfort for this girl with only a name. Unconsciously she began humming one of the evening hymns. It was the tune Heather had first sung to Amy weeks before and the melody soothed her now as it did then. Gradually her sobs lessened and she lay quiet and still. So still was she that Mrs. Morgan wondered if she had fallen asleep, but when she rose and began to spread a blanket over her, Amy stirred.
    “I’m not asleep,” she said, her voice muffled by the pillow.
    “Are you going to come eat now? Supper is probably about ready.”
    “I don’t feel hungry,” was the whispered reply.
    Mrs. Morgan patted her shoulder. “All right, Dear. Come when you are ready. And remember this, we want you.”
    There was no reply and Mrs. Morgan left the room wondering if she had done all she could.

    Supper was nearly over when Amy appeared. Traces of tears were still on her face, but no one said a word as Adam, rising with his customary good manners, pulled out her chair for her. She didn’t eat much and scarcely said a word all evening. When it was time for the evening hymns, she remained sitting in her chair and listened, a troubled look on her face.
    After the little ones and Amy had gone to bed, the rest of the Morgan family remained sitting around the fire.
    “What are we going to tell Justin when he calls?” Sara asked softly. “He hasn’t called all day so I expect he’ll be calling any time now.”
    Mrs. Morgan sighed and looked across at her husband. “I don’t know. Perhaps he should come up and see her.”
    “What upset her this evening?” Mr. Morgan asked.
    “She didn’t know how to set the table and I think it was the last straw. Her only cry when I went to her was ‘why can’t I remember?’ I wanted to cry myself.”
    Just then the phone rang and Mr. Morgan rose quickly to answer it. “Hello. We were wondering when you’d get around to calling. . . . I see. Well, . . . no, she went to bed with the little ones tonight. . . . Justin, let me switch phones. It’ll be easier to talk in the office. I’ll put your mother on while I head to the office.”
    On hearing this, Mrs. Morgan rose and took the phone her husband handed her. “Hello, Son. Was the hospital busy today? . . . Oh, I see. . . . Yes, we decorated yesterday during the storm. . . . She was just fine, but there’s Dad. Good-bye. . . . I love you too.”
    Returning to the front room, Mrs. Morgan settled herself once more in her chair. The room was quiet save for the soft sounds of the fire and the low murmur of Mr. Morgan’s deep voice in the office.
    Sara, curled up in one corner of the couch, frowned over at Adam as he absentmindedly straightening the fringe on the rug. “Why do you think she was fine yesterday, Mom, but tonight—” she didn’t finish, but looked at her mother with a puzzled face.
    “I don’t know for sure. It could be that we kept her too busy yesterday to try to think and tonight, well, tonight she tried doing something alone for the first time since she’s been sick and found out she didn’t know how.”
    “I can’t imagine what it must be like to have done something hundreds of times in my life and then suddenly realize that I didn’t know how to do it any longer.” Adam’s voice was thoughtful.
    “Isn’t there anything we can do?” Sara wondered.
    Neither Adam nor Mrs. Morgan had an answer, and all sat in thoughtful silence until Mr. Morgan once more joined them.
    “What did Justin say?” Mrs. Morgan looked up to ask.
    “He’ll be up sometime tomorrow. An ambulance is coming to transport one of the patients to Jackson in the morning and he thought after that he’d be able to get away.” He yawned. “I think I’m about ready to turn in.”
    “Dad.”
    Mr. Morgan turned from the fire which he was carefully banking for the night and looked at his son questioningly. “Yes?”
    “Can I use the truck tomorrow?”
    “All day?”
    “Maybe. You aren’t going to want it?”
    Mr. Morgan shook his head. He could tell his youngest son had an idea in his mind, but until he was ready to share it, his lips would remained closed.

It worked!

Got any ideas for me?

What did you think of this part?

Dr. Morgan - Part 18

Well Hello FFFs,
I realized that today was Friday and I wasn't sure what to post. I wanted to get a 4th of July story written and hoped it would be several parts long, but I haven't had any chance to write for a few weeks. So, I had to figure out what I could post. Since I don't have time to go through all my stories to see which is the shortest one, I thought I'd just give you a "Dr. Morgan." I know you are probably all really sad that you get that story again. :P

I could tell you my week was busy, but I think I always tell you that. Let's just mention that we are babysitting my 7-year-old niece, my 6-year-old and 3-year-old nephews since Tuesday morning. Life is different when you have three young ones running around. For some reason you don't seem to be able to get done all the usual things. Doodle Bug (age 3) is always saying something funny. We were reading a train book and he was pretending he and I were driving it. I asked him where we were going and he wasn't sure. I made suggestions of different places and states and when I said "Wisconsin" he shook his head and said, "Nope, we can't go dere." "Why?" I asked. His reply wasn't what I expected. "Cause there's too many people dere. My cousins are all dere." :P Silly boy.

We've played outside in the water, we've swung on the swings, rode bikes, played dress-up, read books, played with legos, made and flew paper airplanes, and sent them all to bed tired.
Today they get to help us clean house. Should be interesting. :)

I am hoping to get back into writing next week. TCR-4 is calling me and I want to work on it! The illustrations for book 3 are coming along well and I can't wait to get it published.

By the way, if any of my readers are going to be at the OCEAN conference in OR, my Triple Creek Ranch books are going to be at the Homeschool Authors booth.

But now that I've been distracted several times by Goofball wanting to talk, I should just get the part posted and get on with the morning. After I figure out which part I need to post.

Part 18

    What good things could she fill it with if she couldn’t remember anything? Suddenly part of a verse from one of the evening hymns floated through her mind.
Earth’s joys grow dim; its glories pass away.
Change and decay in all around I see;
O Thou who changest not, abide with me.
    Then another phrase:
    Thro’ clouds and sunshine, oh abide with me!
    Perhaps that was what Adam was thinking about. “Thro’ clouds and sunshine,” she mused. “I feel like I’m in a cloud or maybe a fog. Abide with me. I wonder what I thought about prayer before—well, before all this happened. Dr. Morgan said he believes in prayer, and his father sounds like he believes it. I suspect Mrs. Morgan and Sara believe in it too. What do I believe? Oh!” she turned restlessly. “Why can’t I remember anything?”
    For some time it seemed that no matter which direction Amy tried to turn her thoughts, she always ended up with the same cry, “Why can’t I remember?” At last she fell asleep, determined to ask Adam about what he meant in the morning.

    A snowstorm was blowing down across the mountains when Amy awoke the following day. She felt tired and wondered at first if she should just remain in bed, but at last, feeling that doing anything besides remaining alone was preferable, she rose.
    It was later than the previous morning and breakfast had been eaten by the rest of the family when Amy at last entered the dining room where Mrs. Morgan was seated. Mrs. Morgan rose with a smile. “Good morning, Amy. You just have a seat and I’ll have breakfast ready for you in no time.”
    “I’m not very hungry,” Amy said, sinking down onto a chair.
    “That’s what you said yesterday, Dear,” Mrs. Morgan laughed. “We’ll just see if you can’t put away another hearty breakfast.”
    With a sigh Amy leaned an elbow on the table and her chin on her hand as she stared out at the swirling, blowing snow.
    “Good morning.” The quiet greeting startled Amy and she turned to see Adam coming from the front room. “It sure is snowing outside.”
    Here was her chance, Amy decided, and she blurted out, “What good things do I fill it with?”
    Adam didn’t have to ask what she was talking about, but simply replied, “Whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things.” Adam quoted the words in his quiet manner and added, “Fill your mind with those things and the rest will take care of itself.”
    Amy didn’t reply, and Adam, picking up what he had come after, returned to the other room. Thoughtfully Amy ate her breakfast, not noticing what she ate or the somewhat troubled glances Mrs. Morgan  sent her way.
    Into the quiet dining room came Sara’s eager voice, “Mom, Dad has the boxes down!”
    Smiling, Mrs. Morgan called back, “Wait a few more minutes, Sara, and let Amy finish her breakfast.” Then, turning to her young guest, she added, “We’re going to decorate today, except for the tree, and Sara is about as impatient at nineteen as she used to be at nine.”
    “Decorate?”
    “For Christmas. You can help too, if you promise you won’t wear yourself out.”
    When Mrs. Morgan and Amy entered the living room ten minutes later, they discovered the rest of the family waiting for them. The bustle and activity which followed was something Amy never forgot. Soon she found herself settled in a chair untangling Christmas tree lights while she watched the others unpack ornaments, bows and garlands. Every little while Sara would sit down before the piano and dash off a few bars of a Christmas carol which set everyone to singing. Even Danny and Jenny were not forgotten, and Jenny happily stood by a chair or a table, hanging on to a string of jingle bells and giggling every time she shook them, while Danny followed Adam and Mr. Morgan around, cheerfully getting in their way and not caring in the least if he was nearly stepped on numerous times. Sitting there watching the excitement, Amy wondered what it would have been like to have grown up in a family as happy and pleasant as this one must have been. Reaching the end of her string of lights, she leaned back in her chair, content to watch and listen.
    Everyone was so busy that day that Amy had no time to sit and wonder about her life, and when she went to bed that night, her mind was so full of the pleasant things of the day that the troublesome thoughts of the previous night were forgotten.
    The following day was much the same and Amy, feeling stronger and a little more sure of herself, asked to be allowed to help with supper. Mrs. Morgan accepted her offer with a smile.
    To Amy that was a new experience. She had no knowledge of how to do anything, but, once Mrs. Morgan showed her how to peel the potatoes, Amy felt as though she must have done the same things before, for her hands moved with the speed and ease of someone quite used to the task. “It’s strange isn’t it,” she remarked thoughtfully. “I couldn’t have told you how to peel a potato but now that I’m doing it, I feel as though I’ve done it many times, only I don’t know where or when.”
    Mrs. Morgan nodded sympathetically, but said not a word.
    When the potatoes were bubbling in the water, Amy gathered plates, glasses, napkins and silverware in preparation for setting the table. Humming a Christmas carol, she carried the items to the table and then stopped short. A sudden feeling of panic and confusion swept over her and she cried out, “I can’t do it!”

What do you think of this part?

Any ideas or suggestions?

Travels of Tracy - Summer

Good Morning Friday Fiction Fans,
It sure feels like I just posted. But perhaps that's because my week was so crazy and busy. You want to hear about it? Well, okay, here is the brief look at my week.

Saturday— We had a wedding to go to that afternoon and didn't get home until evening.
Sunday— A nice quiet day. Church and fellowship over lunch. We got home before 2:00 which almost never happens. A relaxing day.
Monday— Mom, S and I packed and headed up to my grandparents in the morning. After lunch there we all went over to help my aunt work on packing, sorting and cleaning her house as she wants to move later on to a smaller place.
Tuesday— Spent the day helping my aunt again. We carried boxed up from the basement, outside, inside, up the stairs to get sorted and then out to vehicles.
Wednesday— More work at my aunt's again. Only this time I spent several hours weeding a flower bed out front which hadn't been weeded for a few years.
Thursday— Worked on cleaning in the morning at my aunt's and then ate lunch and drove three hours home.
It was fun helping my aunt, but we were tired. So tired in fact, that Grandpa and I didn't play a singe game of ping-pong. That's tired!

And no, I didn't get much writing done at all! I was able to finish part 5 of TCR on Saturday, but that was it. Maybe I'll be able to write tonight.

I couldn't decide what to post today so I thought I'd just give you Tracy again. If you haven't read the rest of Tracy's travels and troubles, visit the Short Stories page at the top and take a look. I was going to give you all a picture to go with this story, but I don't have one. Sorry.

Travels of Tracey—Summer

    The hot summer sun shone down on the small, blue Road Runner which was near a wire fence. The windows were rolled down to catch what breeze was blowing over the sparsely vegetated land where the only signs of life were two curious horses. The only occupant of the car to be seen was a young woman whose tawny curls were pulled back in a loose ponytail by a yellow ribbon.
    “Oh, dear,” came a sigh as Tracy Linnet lifted her head from a map she had been poring over and stared about her. “Where on earth are we, Lyn?”
    There was no answer and Tracy looked at the seat beside her where her constant companion, a long-haired, yellow tabby usually rode. But the seat was empty.
    “Madalyn?”
    A light paw batted at her ear and Tracy twisted around to find her cat perched on the back of her seat. Pulling her down into her arms, she gently stroked the fur of her little friend saying, “Oh, Lyn, what are we to do now? I have no idea where we are, and I can’t drive a car that is out of gas, now can I, Lyn?
    A contented purr was the only answer, and Lyn blinked in the warm sunshine.
    “Well, we can’t just sit around here all day waiting for those horses to tell someone about us.” And Tracy tried to glare at the animals in question, but her sweet face wasn’t made for glaring and the most she could manage was a puckered frown. Picking up her purse and snatching her light straw hat from the floor of the car, Tracy opened her door and stepped outside. The glare of the sun was blinding and, after coaxing her cat to her shoulder, Tracy dug through her purse until she found her sunglasses. It was easier to see with them on, and eagerly Tracy peered about hoping to see a house or another car. It was no use. There wasn’t a house or car or other living being there except herself, her cat and the two horses on the other side of the fence.
    Tracy squared her shoulders and gave a nod of her head. “Well, Lyn, we’ll just have to go find someone. But where should we go?”
    Stepping around from one shoulder to the other, the cat’s tail swept over Tracy’s face and she uttered a loud “Meow,” in her ear.
    “If you had told me which direction to go before we got lost,” Tracy scolded as her cat leapt to her arms, “we wouldn’t be lost right now. You never were good at reading maps, Lyn. What will Tad say when I don’t arrive at his uncle’s by four o’clock?”
    Lyn blinked and yawned.
    “Oh, you’re no help. Maybe I’ll get better answers from the horses.” And Tracy timidly stepped near the fence. She had never been on a horse before and the only time she had been this close to one was when she was six.
    “Where do you horses live?” she asked politely, wishing that horses could talk. “I do wish you could take a message to your owner and tell him that a girl is stranded here without gas and helplessly lost. Would you be so kind as to do that?”
    The light colored horses pushed his nose over the fence and gave a half snort.
    “Oh dear, I was afraid you would say that.” Tracy’s shoulders slumped and she moaned, “I wish I were back at home or at college. At least I never ran out of gas there. Or got lost,” she added.
    Feeling the need to do something, she began to think and analyze her situation. If there were horses in a pasture, then somewhere there must be a house. Perhaps if she just followed the fence she would soon find a house and get the help she needed to set her on her way again. Quickly deciding which way looked more appealing, she was about to set off when a sudden movement off in the far distance caught her eye.
    “Is that another horse?” she mused. “Why, I do believe it is and there is a rider on it! Oh delightful! Now if only I could get his attention. Yoo hoo!” she called, but her voice couldn’t cover that length of space.
    “Lyn, we’ll just have to go and ask for help.” Making her careful way to an opening between two posts which would admit her if she slipped in sideways and ducked her head, she hesitated. Looking at the distant rider she was unable to tell which direction he was going. “I just have to reach him,” she decided.
    The horses moved aside as Tracy, after setting her cat carefully down, managed to squeeze through the fence. Calling to her cat, Tracy started off, but much to her dismay, the horses decided to come along. Fearful that her beloved cat might get stepped on, Tracy scooped Lyn up in her arms and began walking quickly.
    So fearful was Tracy over the closeness of the horses and afraid that the rider would disappear before she could get his attention, that she didn’t think to watch where she was stepping. Recoiling suddenly, Tracy closed her eyes and stopped short. Through the open toes of her new wicker boots, she could feel something. She wrinkled her nose and moaned, “Oh dear, not these shoes!” Through flat soles of the boots she noticed for the first time that she could feel each rock and clump of dirt. But this wasn’t dirt, there was no mud in this dry place and this was a pasture! Shuddering, she gingerly stepped forward, trying not to think of what she had just been standing in. She had to get help.
    “Hello!” the sound of a deep voice brought Tracy’s head up so quickly that her hat fell off and one of the horses stepped on it.
    “Hello!” Never had Tracy been so glad to see anyone. “My car is lost and I’ve run out of gas,” she blurted quickly.
    A deep chuckle made Tracy blush as the older man swung down off his horse, but he only said, “Got lost did you? And you’re out of gas? I think I can help. Got a truck just over the rise and there’s a can of gas in the back. Care to ride over with me?”
    Staring in panic at the horse, Tracy drew back, “I think I’d rather walk, thank you. I . . . I have my cat. She doesn’t like horses.”
    The man seemed to understand, for he said he’d take the horses back with him and then would meet her at her car. For this Tracy was grateful and turned to walk back, being very careful of where she stepped this time.
    The man in the truck arrived at the fence at the same time Tracy did and soon her car had enough gas to get her to a nearby town. She also had a very carefully drawn map and written directions from the man. “I hope the rest of your journey is uneventful, Miss,” he said, touching his hat as Tracy started her car.
    “Thank you,” she sighed. Carefully Tracy turned the car around and drove off down the dusty road. “Lyn,” she remarked when at last paved road was under her tires once more, “It’s nearly four! I do hope Tad hasn’t started looking for me yet. And I wish I could change my shoes! Do you think they’ll ever come clean?”

Did you like it?

Did you feel sorry for Tracy or just laugh at her?

And what do you think Tad said?

Even the Beasts - Part 3

Good Morning Friday Fiction Fans,
How has your week been? Mine has been busy, but good. Here's a glimpse of it.

Last Friday I told you I was at a conference. It's a favorite conference to go to and this year was even better because on Saturday I was able to meet three of my blog readers in person! :) :) (It was very good to meet and visit with you all! Thanks for coming by the booth.)
Sunday found us driving home in time to eat lunch at church before heading the rest of the way home. It was delightful to get home.
Monday was spent trying to catch up on things and working on my long list of "to do" things.
Tuesday was my sister's birthday and my parents' anniversary. So, my brother's family met us at Andy's Frozen Custard after lunch. It sure was fun! The kiddos all (except the little guy) had chocolate cones. What a mess their faces were. :)
On Wednesday morning I was going to work on mowing the yard before breakfast but when I went down, it started raining. So I had to wait. But my dad ended up mowing part of it for me. Then I finished it after breakfast. We've had so much rain that it seems that every time we go to a conference I have to mow when I get home.
Thursday, that was yesterday wasn't it? Well, we had a huge rain storm in the morning! I did get quite a few things done. I even wrote in the evening finishing one short story and working some on TCR-4.

I haven't mentioned it yet, but my Triple Creek Ranch books are going to be at the OCEAN conference in OR later this month! If you are going to be attending, stop by the "Homeschool Authors" booth and take a look. I've been trying to get ready for that as I had to design a flyer with info about my books so I can mail them to the one in charge of the booth.

Thank you girls for your comments on last weeks part. I was going to reply, but was too busy. I did enjoy them though. And now you get to read the end of the story. I hope you'll tell me what you think of it. :) Enjoy!

Even the Beasts

Part 3

     “Let’s have our Bible reading this morning before I go hitch up the team, Val.” It was morning and Harold had come in from milking the cow and breakfast had been finished.
    Mrs. Manning, turning from the cupboard where she had put away the clean dishes, sat down in her rocking chair without a word. She was tired and the very thought of the long, lonely days ahead of her nearly unnerved her.
    “Praise ye the Lord . . . Praise the Lord from the earth, . . . beasts, and all cattle; creeping things, and flying fowl . . . both young men, and maidens; old men, and children: Let them praise the name of the Lord.” There was a moment of silence after Harold finished the Psalm and had offered a short but heartfelt prayer. “I guess I’ll head out and hitch up the horses now,” Mr. Manning remarked quietly. Standing up he placed the Bible carefully on the mantel and bent to kiss Valerie. “You can take things easy with me gone, Dear,” he said.
    Summoning up her courage, Valerie looked up and smiled. She would not have her husband know just how worried she was.
    Heading out to the barn, Harold whistled. It was another lovely morning, though not as beautiful as yesterday. Still, the horses ought to make good time. Perhaps they could reach town early and he would only be gone two and a half days. As he rounded the corner of the barn, a large, tawny form came springing from the corner of the corral.
    Harold only had time to fling his arms up to protect his face and neck as he exclaimed, “Scat!” before the full weight of the mountain lion slammed into his chest and felled him like a tree under the woodsman’s ax.

    The next thing he knew, someone was bathing his face with water and calling his name. Feeling bewildered, confused and not fully aware of what had happened, Harold opened his eyes and moaned.
    “Oh, Harold!”
    With a feeble push at the hand dousing him with water, he blinked rapidly and then gazed in puzzlement into his wife’s anxious face.
    “What happened?” he murmured.
    “I’m not sure,” Valerie answered. “You came out to hitch up the team but you didn’t come back. At last I got anxious and came out to find you lying here unconscious. Oh, Harold, I was so afraid you were dead!” And the poor, frightened woman burst into tears.
    This seemed to have the effect of rousing Harold from his half stupor, for with a struggle, he pushed himself into a sitting posture, though his head spun for a minute, and put an arm about his wife. “I’m all right now, Val,” he whispered. “I think a cup of tea will complete the cure. Come on now, don’t cry.”
    “Are you sure you aren’t dead?” Valerie whispered.
    “Well, I don’t feel dead, but my head aches. Come on, let’s go to the house.”
    Carefully Harold stood up and with the steadying aid of Valerie’s arm, he stumbled back to the house where he sank down onto the first chair he came to. After feeling his head, Harold discovered a rather large lump on the back of it where he had struck the ground and soon Valerie had a cool compress on it.
    At last Valerie spoke. “Harold, what happened?”
    Drawing a deep breath, he replied, “It was Scat.”
    “Again?”
    “Again. I saw him spring at me from the corral but was unable to get out of the way.”
    “What did he do to you?” Valerie’s face was pale.
    “Nothing but launch himself at me. I think he wanted to play, but he’s too large for that kind of game anymore.”
    “I should say so! What are you going to do?”
    “As soon as I feel a little more steady, I’m going to take the gun and go looking for him. I can’t leave here with him prowling around. Even if he just wants to play. What if he had sprung at you when I was gone?” This he asked as Valerie looked reproachfully at him.
    “But, Harold,” she protested, “how could you shoot Scat? He’s just doesn’t know better. After all, he’s only a baby.”
    “Was a baby, you mean,” Harold corrected. “Val, Scat’s nearly full grown and even if he doesn’t know better, he soon won’t just want to play. He’s growing dangerous.”
    Valerie said no more. There was nothing to say for she too could see the wisdom of Harold’s words though she wished it didn’t have to be so.

    All day long Harold Manning spent searching for that mountain lion, but only a few footprints could he find. Warily he went out to feed the horses and cow that evening, taking his rifle with him. There was a chance that Scat had come back and Harold wanted to be ready. However, everything was peaceful and the barn was shut up for the night when Harold returned to the house.
    As the couple were sitting around the cheery fire that evening, for the nights were still cool though the days were so pleasant, Valerie gave a gasp and dropped her mending.
    Looking up in surprise, Harold saw her face pale and heard her rapid breathing. “Valerie, what is it? What’s wrong?”
    “The baby,” she gasped, “it’s coming!”
    “Now?”
    Valerie could only nod.

    Several hours later, a pale and tired, but quite happy Valerie, lay in the bed with a little bundle beside her. As she lay silently gazing into the sleeping face of her newborn son, her mind repeated a few verses that Harold had read that morning. “Praise the Lord from the earth . . . Beasts and all cattle . . . Let them praise the name of the Lord.”
    “Harold,” whispered the new mother.
    “Yes, Dear,” came a soft answer and a moment later Harold was bending over the bed to look into the faces of the two most precious things to him on earth.
    “I think God sent Scat to us,” were the unexpected words.
    “What?”
    “Harold, God created the beasts to praise him  as well as man and I think Scat was sent to us yesterday and today.”
    Sitting down beside her, Harold took one of her hands in his. “Val, I’m not sure I understand what you mean. Why do you think that God sent that mountain lion to us?”
    “Because if he hadn’t wanted to play with you yesterday and caused you to fall from the loft, you would have driven into town. And if he hadn’t knocked you down this morning and then disappeared, you would have gone into town today. Harold, you were supposed to be in town tonight. Instead, because of Scat, you were home where you were needed. Scat saved the day because God sent him here.”
    Thinking it over, Harold realized that Valerie was right. Scat had saved the day. With that realization Harold slipped to his knees beside the bed and whispered, “Val, let us thank God that even the beasts were made to praise Him.”

Now that you've read the end, what did you think?

Did you enjoy the story?

I got the idea for this story from a friend who told me about some friends of theirs who had raised a mountain lion but had to let him go because he got so big that he knocked a guy unconscious when he jumped up on him wanting to play.