Pilgrimage of Promise (A Miller's Creek Novel) (Volume 4)

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9780984431168: Pilgrimage of Promise (A Miller's Creek Novel) (Volume 4)
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2013 Grace Award Nominee (Reader-Nominated)

"...Karen Kingsbury meets Nicholas Sparks." ~Amazon reviewer

Best-selling Christian fiction author Cathy Bryant delivers a timeless story of love gained, betrayal, and the unfailing promises of God.

Broken promises, enduring love...


A dusty stack of unopened love letters forces Bo and Mona Beth Miller to revisit a part of their past they'd rather leave buried-especially in the face of impending death. Only as they retrace history will they learn the truth about the shattered promise that threatens to come between them. But can their relationship endure the deception and sabotage they unearth, or will the experience compel them to trust more fully in the promises that never fail?

If you enjoy a faith-based read that makes you laugh and cry while driving home Biblical truth, Pilgrimage of Promise is the book for you!

"synopsis" may belong to another edition of this title.

From the Author:

PILGRIMAGE OF PROMISE is the fourth book in the Miller's Creek novels. Though the book was written as a stand-alone, readers might prefer to read TEXAS ROADS and A PATH LESS TRAVELED prior to reading this book. 
Mama Beth and I have become prettywell-acquainted over the course of four Miller's Creek novels and fiveyears. Since I wrote TEXAS ROADS, she's been waiting patiently for me to tell her story.

With every novel there is the necessary requirement of planning andplotting, which for me includes the all-important spiritual theme. As is the case with all my books, I wanted the theme of this story to be anugget of God's truth I had personally experienced and one readers could latch on to.

In the course of my life, I've learned that even when life is scary anduncertain, God is unchanging and faithful. He always keeps His promises.
 
Standing on His promises,
Cathy :)

From the Inside Flap:

Excerpt from PILGRIMAGE OF PROMISE (used by permission):

July1963
 
Careful not to dislodge the red, whiteand blue rodeo banner that hung there, Bo Miller swung one leg over the woodenfence at the Miller's Creek fair and rodeo grounds, shifted his weight, thenpulled the other leg over and sat, resting the heels of his boots on a lowerrung. What could be better than spending the fourth of July before his senioryear in high school at the Miller's Creek rodeo and fair grounds with his bestbuddies? By this time next year, he'd be off to college to get the educationthat would help him build the family ranch. He allowed his daydreams to takeoff and imagined himself wearing his letter jacket on a tree-studded campuswith a pretty girl hanging from each arm.
He was shaken from his reverie as J.C.and Vernon settled on the fence to his right, while Coot huffed and puffed tohis left, finally able to haul his more-than-ample weight over the top. The woodenrails creaked and wobbled beneath them.
Bo gripped the fence tighter and waitedfor the swaying to stop. "Man, Coot. Lay off the double-decker cheeseburgers atthe Dixie Maid, would ya? Without football practice to keep your weight incheck, you're going to outweigh the rest of us before summer's over."
The rodeo speaker blared Buck Owens' Act Naturally, as Coot patted hisever-growing pot belly. "Just more of me to love."
All of them laughed, the sound quicklylost in the hubbub of the crowd. His best buddy Vernon McGee elbowed scrawnyJ.C., who probably didn't weigh more than a hundred and twenty soaking wet."What do you think, J.C.? Think we should place a wager on that?" He drawledout the words in typical fashion and then returned to chomping on his bubblegum.
J.C. grinned and ducked his head. "Nah.I might lose weight over the summer."
Laughter again burst forth and J.C.turned pink.
"Always the diplomat, huh, J.C.?" Boslapped him on the back to show he was just teasing. J.C. Watson, the son of JeremiahWatson, the owner of the town's only drugstore, never had an unkind word to sayabout anybody. They just didn't make guys any nicer.
Satisfaction swirling within, Bobreathed in deeply. The tempting aromas of hot dogs, Texas chili, and popcornmingled together, a good cover-up for the normal scents of the rodeo grounds.
The rodeo speakers crackled withstatic, and Coot's dad's voice boomed, "Ladies and gentlemen, it's now time forthe barrel racers, girls' division. Let's give all the gals a hand as they makea trot around the arena." A smattering of applause broke out, and a few peoplerose to their feet to call out encouragement to their favorite riders.
Vernon pointed toward the lead horse, amassive Appaloosa. "That's the one I'm picking to win. Just look at thosehaunches."
The animal kicked up dirt, and the hotTexas wind blew it their direction, quickly lining Bo's nostrils with grit anda dusty smell. A reddish-brown quarter horse much smaller than the others tookup the rear of the pack, and a low rumble of snickers erupted from the crowd.
One fellow, obviously operating withone too many under his belt, wobbled to his feet, pointing and laughing. "Isthat the rodeo clown?" Those around him guffawed along with the rest of thethrong, but quickly pulled the man to a sitting position.
The tiny girl atop the horse apparentlyheard the comment, because as she rounded the curve she peered up at him andpulled her horse to a stop. She stared him down a minute longer, and thenbrought a hand up to tip her straw cowboy hat before she resumed the trot. Thisonly made the audience howl louder.
"Atta girl. Show him what you're madeof." Beside Bo, J.C. muttered the words under his breath.
Bo's forehead wrinkled beneath the brimof his hat. "You know her?"
"Yep. That's Mona Beth Adams, Cecille'slittle sister."
"Cecille? The Cecille in our classwho's always hanging around making goo-goo eyes at me?"
"That's the one." He glanced at Bo."And before long, everyone in this arena is going to know her little sister'sname."
"What do you mean?"
J.C. nodded his head toward Cecille'syounger sister who now approached them. "You'll see soon enough."
"Hi, J.C." The petite girl with longblonde hair flashed a brilliant smile as she passed.
"Hey, Mona Beth."
"They grow 'em a little small down onthe farm, don't they?" Coot trumpeted the words in his usual style and thendissolved into a fit of his unmistakable wheezing laughter.
The Adams girl reined the horse to anabrupt stop. Then, in an unexpected move, she turned the horse in a half circleand sauntered back until she sat right below Coot. She yanked on the reins tobring her mount to a halt, leaned forward to rest a hand on the saddle horn,and used the other hand to push the brim of her hat higher on her forehead. "Maybeso," she answered, before eyeing him up and down with the most intense blueeyes Bo had ever seen. "Which tells me you definitely didn't come from a farm."
Coot grew unusually quiet, and his facereddened.
"Ooh. Guess she told you," spoutedVernon with a laugh from his perch at the other end of the fence.
Bo and J.C. sniggered softly. EvenCoot, his face still beet red, managed a slight chuckle, his eyes now exudingrespect.
But the girl returned only atight-lipped smile and tipped her hat before she turned and galloped from thearena. The horse's hooves pounded the ground and sent up clumps of red soil.
Fascinated by the morning's rodeoevent, Bo watched girl after girl make her run on the barrels. The bigAppaloosa and his rider turned out not to be so great. They knocked over two ofthe three barrels with too-sharp turns and brought boos from the stands. By thetime they reached the end of the pack, the rider with a gorgeous Palomino likehis own Buttercup held the record, with a time of sixteen seventy-three.
"And now our last barrel racer, MissMona Beth Adams, from right here in Miller's Creek, riding her horse Daisy."
In a flash, the little mare thunderedinto the arena, headed for the first barrel, a thick cloud of red dust behindher. The girl's knee came perilously close to the barrel as the horse leaned toan almost horizontal position on the first turn. The crowd, now quieter thanthey'd been all day, leaned forward in their seats, totally mesmerized with theway the girl and horse rode as one.
"Go, girl, go," whispered J.C.
Though the Adams girl had clamped herlegs around the horse's mid-section on the turn, she now straightened them andused their force to spur her horse on faster. On the second turn, the horseleaned in so close the girl's left boot almost dragged the ground. But as sheraced for the final barrel, something went very wrong. Shoes thudded againstthe wooden bleachers as people jumped to their feet.
Bo squinted against the white-hot Julysun and focused on the horse's mouth. The bridle must have broken. The bitdropped to the ground as horse and rider hurled at lightning speed toward thelast barrel.
His heart moved to his throat, themuscles in his legs taut as he braced himself for the possibility that he mighthave to jump in the ring to help. A collective gasp sounded from the throng,followed by a low murmur as people pointed toward the center of the arena.
The feisty blonde leaned closer to hermare's neck and grabbed hold of the mane with both fists. They careened in perfectalignment around the third barrel. As the little horse tore up the soil on herway out of the arena, the people in the stands went crazy with their hoots andhollers.
"Wow!" Coot's dad shouted the word."Mona Beth Adams just ...

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