A Cowgirl's Rodeo

Chapter 8

There it was, the church I had read about over and over again since my dad died. I heard a car coming from the left and looked to see a small pickup truck parking in the church parking lot. A man got out, probably in his yearly 40s, wearing a plaid button up and dirt covered jeans.

"How are y'all today?" He asked, "Something I can help you with?"

"Yes sir. We have a few questions if you have the time." I asked politely, jumping off Trigger.

"Anything you need, I have the time." He smiled and gestured toward a small barn behind the church. "If you'd like, y'all can put your horses in the barn and come inside. You'd be surprised how many people save gas by ridin their horses to church."

John Ross and I put Trigger and Reese in a stall and turned the water on to their buckets and headed toward the churches back door. "He seems nice." I commented, hitching my thumbs in my belt loops. My boots clicked on the pavement while John Ross' sneakers were silent.

"I think his friendliness is creepy if you ask me." He grumbled, sticking close to my side. I could see the house Connie had said used to be my parents old house. The lawn was over grown and my mothers gardens were over grown with weeds but the minister was probably a busy man. He wouldn't have the time to worry about upkeep.

I was too busy glancing over the house, I failed to watch where I was going and almost tripped over a rock. Luckily, John Ross grabbed around my waist before I could completely embarrass myself. "Thank you." I said cooly, as if nothing had happened. He just chuckled, slinging his arm over my shoulder and kissing me on the temple. I don't understand why he keeps acting this way with me. I mean we just met less than a week ago and he hated me at first too. Don't get me wrong, I prefer him this way but I'm just curious is all.

We stepped inside the church through a side door that lead into what I now assume is the pastors office. He had a table for a desk with papers and bills scattered all over. "So what was it you'd like to know?" He asked, shuffling through the papers trying to organize.

I opened my mouth to speak but John Ross tucked me into his side, "We're people on a mission pastor. This young lady lived in the house next door with her mother and father about 18 years ago. But since then, one parent is deceased and the other..."

I cut him off, hoping I didn't regret telling him. "Also deceased." I said quietly. I hid my face into John Ross's shirt trying to keep my tears under control. I still hadn't come to terms with the fact my father was dead, it felt like he was still traveling the country being the circuits beloved dare devil, riding bulls nobody else would touch.

John Ross didn't say anything, just hugged me tighter. After a moment the pastor spoke, "I take it you're Anastasia then." He paused. "I have somethings that I suppose belongs to you." He walked over to a closet off to the side and pulled out a box. Quite a large box might I add. He set the box down on his desk, "These were left behind in your parents house, I knew your mother had died but all I had heard was that you and your father had ran off to the rodeo. I kept your stuff just in case one of you came back." He pushed the box toward me. "I believe the contents of this box are the only answers I can give you as I had never met them. I came here just after the church bought their house."

John Ross picked up the box for me, "Thank you pastor, for your time. I appreciate this." I smiled, holding out my hand to shake.

He grasped my hand with both of his, "I'm truely sorry for your loss Anastasia and I pray you find the happiness and peace in which you seek. It was a pleasure meeting y'all and I wish you luck." He shook John Ross's hand as well. I smiled at the pastor but it quickly turned to a scowl at his next words. "Keep in mind, this church is a beautiful place for a wedding."