The sun was barely up when Jake Harmon stepped onto the porch of the bunkhouse. Early morning dew showed brightly on the fence rail.
Boone padded out beside him and sat, tail thumping once against the boards.
Jake smiled. “I know, boy. Feels like a workday, but it’s a rest day.”
The ranch never really slept. There was always a fence to mend, a horse to shoe, a water trough to check. Some mornings Jake felt like if he didn’t keep moving, the whole place might fall apart out of spite.
Mary came out of the cookhouse wiping her hands on a towel. “Coffee’s ready inside.”
She paused, then nodded toward the yard. “Buckboard’s hitched.”
Jake glanced past her. Sure enough, the old buckboard stood ready, the mare already shifting her weight, eager to go.
“You sure about that?” Jake said. “There’s a lot still needin’”
“doing tomorrow,” Mary finished for him. “Same as last Sunday. And the one before that.”
She poured coffee into a cup and handed it to him. “Church first. Then we’ll come back and let the day tell us what it needs that can’t wait ‘til Monday.”
Jake hesitated, eyes drifting toward the corral. Work waited there like it always did… patient and insistent.
Eli Turner stepped out of the bunkhouse, hat in his hand. “We goin’ somewhere?”
Mary smiled. “Same place we go every Sunday.”
Eli looked at Jake. Jake looked at the ranch. Then he nodded once. “Guess the gates can wait. Come on Eli!”
Boone jumped into the back of the buckboard as if the matter had already been settled, and Eli joined him.
The wheels creaked as they rolled out, the ranch quiet behind them. Jake turned once in his seat, half-expecting something to be amiss.
Nothing was. He looked back and saw some of the hands mounting up to join them.
Jake flicked the reins gently. “Funny thing,” he said, “the work always seems to behave itself when we remember Whose day this is.”
The ride into town was quiet and familiar, the kind of quiet that came from having made the same trip often enough that no one needed to talk about it. The church was already filling, and the church bells were ringing when they arrived, horses in the corral and some wagons still hitched.
When the service ended, they didn’t linger long. Handshakes were exchanged, promises to pray for someone were reaffirmed, and then they were back on the buckboard heading home.
Back at the ranch, Mary locked the supply shed before anyone could argue. “Just for today,” she said. “Unless the cattle catch fire or the rapids start runnin’ backward.”
Jake chuckled. “You planning a rebellion?”
“No,” Mary said calmly. “Just a pause.”
They sat on the porch together, listening to the wind move through the cottonwoods. After a moment, Jake sighed. “After six days of work, this day still feels strange. Like I should be doing something.”
Mary nodded. “That’s usually how it feels when a man’s forgotten how to stop.”
Jake took a long sip of coffee. “My dad used to say rest was for people who didn’t care enough to work.”
Mary looked at him, with words not sharp, not soft, just steady. “And how’d that work out for him?”
Jake didn’t answer. Boone leaned against his leg, warm and solid.
Down by the corral, Eli appeared, hesitating when he saw them sitting. “You need help with anything?”
“Not today,” Jake said. “You’re off the clock.”
Eli frowned. “I don’t mind working.”
“I know,” Jake said. “That’s exactly why you’re resting.”
They watched Eli wander down toward the river, hands shoved in his pockets, unsure what to do with a free afternoon, rest felt so undeserved.
Mary broke the silence. “You ever notice how the land itself rests?”
Jake glanced out over the pasture. “What do you mean?”
“Well,” she said, “you don’t plant the same field every season without letting it lie fallow now and then. You don’t push a horse day after day without giving it water and shade. But men?” She smiled faintly. “Men think they’re built different.”
Jake shook his head slowly. “I always figured if I kept working, I’d stay ahead of my mistakes.”
Mary met his eyes. “Work’s good, Jake. Necessary. But it won’t save you from being human, and humans need a day of rest.”
At the riverbank, Eli sat on a rock skipping stones. “Never realized how loud the water is when you stop rushing past it,” he said to himself.
“You know, Mary,” Jake smiled. “Funny thing, when you stop working, you start noticing what the work was for.”
As the sun dipped low, the ranch stood exactly where it had that morning. Fences still straight. Cattle still fed. The world hadn’t fallen apart.
That evening, as they sat down to supper, Jake bowed his head. “Thank You,” he said quietly, “for the food, the preaching, and the work that feeds us, and the rest and worship that reminds us we’re not alone. Thank You, Lord.”
Mary smiled. Eli said, “Amen.” Boone thumped his tail. Outside, the gate stayed closed.
And the ranch breathed easy.
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