Chapter 1

The sun beat down on Jason as his horse found its way through the sagebrush. He blinked his bleary eyes and tried to make out any familiar sights. Of course, it had been two years since he had been home and so much of it had changed. Or maybe he just didn’t remember it as well as he should have.

He shook his head and swallowed. The town had to be coming up soon or he might die from thirst. He squinted his eyes against the setting sun. Was that a building or a mirage? His horse plodded steadily forward, one foot in front of the other. The building still hadn’t disappeared. Maybe it was real.

Another clop, clop, clop and more sagebrush passing by. Jason could make out a house and a barn now. And there was a fence. Were those horses in the fence? It must be. It had to be. He straightened and blinked rapidly a few times. “Thank You, God.”

Jason dug his heels into the tired horse’s side and urged him into a canter. He rode into the yard, startling a woman sitting on the rocking chair on the porch.

Jason dismounted and took off his hat. “Afternoon, ma’am.”

The woman stood slowly and peered at him over a pair of spectacles. “Good afternoon.”

He took a few steps forward and beat the dust off his hat. “Could I bother you for a drink of water?”

The old woman nodded and beckoned. “Follow me inside. I think I could rustle up a little more than just water for you. If my boys haven’t drunk it all, I have some lemonade in the icebox. Knowing them, though, they raided the icebox while I napped. They do that a lot, you know. Grown men and behaving like children. They’re a shame, they are. Good, hard workers, though, so I can’t fault them for too much.”

Jason’s smile broadened as he listened to her prattling on. It reminded him of his own grandmother. “Lemonade would be wonderful, but not necessary. You can keep it for your sons if you have any left.”

“Nonsense. They get it plenty often. You look like you haven’t had it in…” She stopped and looked back at him. “Well, quite some time at least.”

Jason laughed. “You’re right, ma’am. It’s probably been about three years or more since I had lemonade.”

She continued her slow way into the kitchen. “Where are you headed?”

“Back home. I’ve been gone for a couple years and God’s been prompting me for a few weeks that I need to go back. I resisted for a few days, but can’t anymore.”

They entered the kitchen and the old woman opened the icebox. “Ah, good. It’s here.” She lifted a pitcher of yellow liquid out and set it on the counter. “Young man… What is your name, by the way?”

“Jason. And yours?”

“Beulah Pedretti, but you can call me Grandma Beulah. Everyone does. That’s what comes of living longer than anyone else. Even many grandmothers call me Grandma Beulah. Now, what was I going to ask you? Oh yes. The cups are up there. Could you get one for yourself, please? With my bent back, I can’t reach that high anymore.”

Jason hurried over and took out two cups. “Would you like some as well?”

“No, no. The tartness of the lemon is too much for my old mouth now. I enjoy making it and watching others drink it.”

He held the cup while she poured. “Thank you, ma’a… Grandma Beulah.” He took a sip and then a larger gulp. “This is very good.” He drained half the glass before speaking again, “In my traveling, I’m afraid I’ve kind of lost track of where exactly I am. It’s been nothing but desert for quite some time. What is the nearest town?”

“That would be Cryer Creek. A pretty little town and celebrating thirty-three years of existence this week. That’s almost half as old as I am. I didn’t grow up here, you know. I moved here with my husband a few years before my first boy was born.”

Jason finished drinking the rest of his lemonade and set the cup on the counter. “Thank you for the lemonade and the rest. If I want to get home before dark, I should probably head out.”

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