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Synopsis
New York Times bestselling author Lindsay McKenna returns to Silver Creek, Wyoming, where a Black Ops veteran finds the strength to fight again when a dangerous terrorist group comes after his beautiful boss . . .
Bereft after the brutal loss of her parents, Dana Scott sinks nearly every dime of her inheritance into buying Wildflower Ranch, believing that once she restores the rustic cabin, and farms the untamed acreage, her soul will be whole once more. Hiring wrangler Colin Gallagher to help out just makes sense. But as she works side by side with the handsome loner, she feels an unexpected kinship, and a longing for connection she believed was lost to her forever . . .
Colin is only in Silver Creek long enough to make some money and move on. Restless, spiritually broken, the former Army Ranger has nothing left to give after his harrowing time in battle. But helping Dana make a life for herself has him yearning for more. Until the domestic terrorists that destroyed Dana’s family catch up with her, determined to silence her forever. It’s a threat that has Colin calling on all his considerable training to keep safe the woman who has taken hold of his heart . . .
“The romance is . . . rich with emotion and intensified by suspense.”
—Publishers Weekly starred review on Silver Creek Fire
Bereft after the brutal loss of her parents, Dana Scott sinks nearly every dime of her inheritance into buying Wildflower Ranch, believing that once she restores the rustic cabin, and farms the untamed acreage, her soul will be whole once more. Hiring wrangler Colin Gallagher to help out just makes sense. But as she works side by side with the handsome loner, she feels an unexpected kinship, and a longing for connection she believed was lost to her forever . . .
Colin is only in Silver Creek long enough to make some money and move on. Restless, spiritually broken, the former Army Ranger has nothing left to give after his harrowing time in battle. But helping Dana make a life for herself has him yearning for more. Until the domestic terrorists that destroyed Dana’s family catch up with her, determined to silence her forever. It’s a threat that has Colin calling on all his considerable training to keep safe the woman who has taken hold of his heart . . .
“The romance is . . . rich with emotion and intensified by suspense.”
—Publishers Weekly starred review on Silver Creek Fire
Release date: September 28, 2021
Publisher: Zebra Books
Print pages: 338
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Strength Under Fire
Lindsay McKenna
April 15
“This is my new home. A new chapter in my life,” Dana Scott whispered to herself, sounding unsure about her decision. She had just bought a broken-down old log cabin and a hundred acres with the only money she had left in the world. This was her dream home.
She stood there in the cool morning at ten a.m., a range of Wyoming mountains behind and east of the cabin, rising out of the Silver Creek Valley. Fifty acres of land was composed of timber on the slopes covered with conifers. The rest of the land was on the flat Wyoming valley that was an agricultural paradise.
A slight breeze ruffled her loose red hair that lay against her shoulder blades. Pulling her denim jacket a little tighter around her, she felt panic rising and wrestled it down, as she always did. No stranger to fear, it had been a frequent friend the last few years of her life.
Drawing in a shaky breath, Dana had spent most of what her parents had left her, and the last of the money was in a bank in Silver Creek. She had no job—yet. She was farm raised, but there wasn’t much of a call for a woman who had farming skills nowadays.
Looking up at the sky, it was a pale blue, the morning air clean. The cheerful call of birds getting ready to nest was music that lifted her battered spirit.
Had she done the right thing? Spending money that could never be replaced, on this land and the broken cabin? Like the coward she was, she had run away from her traumatic past. Looking to make a break and start over, she’d left the Willamette Valley, a rich winery and agricultural country in Oregon, and headed to Wyoming. Having taken a master gardener course earlier in her life, she’d used her educational knowledge and checked out the pH of the soil here in this valley and it was perfect to grow many types of crops. Of all the places she’d had the potential to choose in four different states, this valley had the richest soil with the right mix of pH, consisting of alluvial silt from old rivers now disappeared, and loamy clay.
The Silver Creek Valley had just the right formula for a fruit tree orchard, too. Her mother, Cathy, had a green thumb that she’d passed on to Dana. She had plans for a huge garden just like the one she’d once had at their farm. Once more, Dana reminded herself that this was her dream home, no matter how dilapidated-looking the cabin was and how barren the Wyoming land seemed. It was just starting to come alive mid-April.
A new start. A new life.
Despite all these world-altering changes, she felt a void and emptiness within her heart that nothing, not even buying the Wildflower Ranch, could fill. This ranch had been established in 1900 by a German husband and wife. Gazing left to right, she could see the harsh winter had tamped down anything that had been growing wild here for several decades. There was a creek out back, perfect as an irrigation source for that garden and small orchard she’d envisioned in her mind.
She’d made an appointment with Mary Bishop, owner of Mama’s Store, the most popular place in town to buy anything, and she’d filled out an employment form earlier in the week. Today, she’d find out if she had a job or not. Mary sold only organic, non-GMO fruits, vegetables, and meat. Although she had not met Mary personally, everyone spoke highly of her, and she had an appointment in less than an hour to speak with her. Her stomach clenched in anxiety. She had to have a job!
Dana needed a line of income or she wouldn’t be able to make the payments on her ranch property and make her dream a reality. There was a lot of fear gnawing at her. Could she pull this off? Had she just wasted her parents’ hard-earned money?
Feeling anything but happy, she walked slowly around the log cabin. Behind her, the main highway leading into Silver Creek was a quarter of a mile away. The dirt road into the place was deeply rutted and lacked grading and the care it needed.
What was odd to her was that there had been a lot of vehicle traffic on it and she could see where the flat land had a road of sorts plowed through it, heading to the slope of the mountain, disappearing into the thick, dark woods. Maybe the locals were hunting and used the road? She didn’t know, but now that she had bought it, the first thing she was going to erect was a stout gate to stop unwanted visitors.
Her green Toyota pickup, more than ten years old, had handled the rutted dirt road easily. Turning on the heel of her work boot, she stared at the two twenty-foot-tall wooden posts standing upright at the entrance to the place. Over time and lack of yearly care, the carved wooden sign that had once rested across them to create a wonderful entrance, had toppled off those two stout timbers, thanks to the fierce winds that scoured the valley during the winter. It lay in two broken five-foot pieces, near the entrance. Etched into the battered, weathered oak sign were the words: WILDFLOWER RANCH. Whoever had been commissioned to create it had been a wonderful wood sculptor, because the words were carved into it, as well. It had lost its varnish a long time ago, the wood roughened by the weather. Still, she wanted to do something with it, get it fixed and lifted back into place where it had been for the family who had loved this place.
Dana wondered if Hilda, the German wife, had been responsible for that sign, or if one of her later descendants had it created? Dana would never know because the family had died out in 2000, with no one else to pass the ranch on to in their family. Since then, the land had lain dormant, unused, the cabin’s upkeep gone, leaving it and the land to the ravages of time and weather. No one, the Realtor had told her a week ago, would buy the ranch because of the small family log cabin. It would have to be razed and a new home built on the property. From his point of view, the land was worth something, but the log cabin was a total loss. She almost said her life was a total loss, too, but she bit back the remark. She had to rebuild her life, just like this cabin needed loving care and attention to come back to life, as well.
Dana didn’t want to destroy the cabin, built in 1900, because, in part, it symbolized how she’d felt for the last several years. Destroying the log cabin, to her, was like symbolically destroying herself. She wasn’t anywhere near healed from her experience, but saw the cabin as a reflection of where she was presently. Determined to save the cabin, and in doing so, she’d bought the place to save herself. Her mother had often said, Life is always unfair, but the way her entire world got upended, it was more than unfair. It was a daily hell on earth for her.
Glancing at her wristwatch, she noted that the appointment with Mary Bishop was thirty minutes away. Time to get a move on. Mary was considered the maven, the queen of Silver Creek, Dana had discovered in the last week of being here. The older woman, everyone warned her, didn’t act her age at all. She was spunky, driven, full of great ideas and easily excited over new projects. Dana thought, from talking to several people over at the Silver Creek food bank and kitchen where she volunteered on one day each weekend, that maybe the word passion best suited go-getter Mary Bishop, according to others. She was a woman on a mission and she took it seriously. Dana wanted this appointment with Queen Mary, and she meant that label in kind terms, not making fun of the elder at all. Queens could rule with grace, responsibility, and in her idealistic world, a queen would have a great love for her people. Mary sounded like such a person and that’s all Dana could ask for.
Mama’s Store was bustling with townspeople, lots of children and some people with service dogs, mixed among the crowded aisles. It was a huge place, far larger than she imagined from seeing it from the highway. A woman clerk led her back to Mary’s office.
Everyone was happy here, she noted. There were smiles, lots of laughter and neighborly chatting amongst those who pushed the grocery carts around the store. Stomach tight with fear of rejection, Dana followed, trying to keep her expression calm, not fearful or anxious. Pulse bounding with stress, she pushed through it, following the clerk through the loading dock area to a small glass-enclosed office. Inside, she could see a petite woman with short silver hair working at a large, messy-looking desk.
“Go on in,” the clerk invited, opening the door. “Mary, here’s Dana Scott. She had an appointment with you?”
Taking a deep breath, Dana moved forward, spotting a chair in front of the desk.
“Yep, she did. Come in, Dana,” Mary invited, lifting her head, waving her into the office.
Instantly, Dana could feel the elder’s piercing scrutiny. Her stomach clenched, the door closing quietly behind her. Would Mary have a job for her? “Yes, ma’am,” she said, standing, hands clasped in front of her.
“Sit, sit,” Mary murmured, and gestured toward the chair. She put down her pen and moved some papers to one side, grabbing a blank piece of paper and placing it in front of her. “It’s nice to meet you. Are you new to Silver Creek?”
Sitting, Dana murmured, “Yes, ma’am, I am. I’ve been here for two weeks.”
Squinting her eyes, Mary said, “I hear from Judy, over at the food bank, that you’ve signed up to work a day on weekends over there.”
Dana tried to keep the surprise off her face, but didn’t succeed. “Well . . . yes, yes, I did.”
“Why?”
This was supposed to be an employment interview. Thrown off by Mary’s question, Mary’s gaze fixed on her, making her feel as if she were being checked out, Dana tried to relax. Opening her hands, she said, “Because I was raised to give back to others who didn’t have as much as we did.”
Giving a nod, Mary said, “That’s commendable. We need folks like you in our valley. Here”—she looked around at the busy loading dock area where boxes of goods were being off-loaded from the semitruck—“we’re all one big, messy family.”
“The Realtor said the same thing,” she said, nodding.
“How’s that sit with you?”
“Fine. I grew up on a large farm in the Willamette Valley of Oregon and everyone knew everyone else. We were like a large family, too, of sorts.”
“Good to know.” She pulled an employment form from another stack of papers, looking down, frowning and studying it. “So? Why on earth would you leave your farm in Oregon to come here?” She looked up at Dana.
Uncomfortably, Dana moved in the chair. “Life changed,” was all she would say. “I needed to find something close to what we had in the Willamette Valley and start over.”
“Hmmm,” Mary said, giving her another searching look. “We buy organic produce from that valley. I’m very well aware of how important it is to Oregon. The Willamette is a north-south one-hundred-and-fifty-mile valley. Very rich soil there, and a wonderful place to grow any crop. Winery owners love that area, too. Silver Creek Valley has very similar soil conditions.”
“Yes, it was why I chose to come and put down roots here. I just bought the Wildflower Ranch.”
“Ah,” Mary said, sitting back in her chair. “Did you now?”
Dana wasn’t sure it was a smart thing to admit to Mary, who reminded her of an eagle, missing nothing. Her face was wrinkled, but that didn’t take away from the authority or power she had. “I know it’s run-down . . .”
“We all have times in our lives when we’re run-down, too. Even ranches here go through that up-and-down cycle. What do you think of the place?”
“It has possibilities. The soil is an excellent mix of alluvial and loamy clay; perfect for plants and fruit trees.”
“So?” she said, rocking back in her chair. “Tell me what your plan is for it?”
Dana wanted a job, not to discuss the broken land. Still, Mary’s interest was there and her voice was kinder once she found out she’d bought the ranch. She didn’t know why, but said, “I want to repair the cabin, use the fifty acres on the flat of the valley to grow organic vegetable crops and put in a small orchard of about thirty trees.”
“It has a nice, year round creek behind that cabin,” Mary said, nodding thoughtfully. “So, you’re going to farm it? Any animals you gonna raise on it?”
Shaking her head, she said, “I’m vegan. I don’t eat meat. I can’t stand to see animals slaughtered. I plan to raise vegetables, have a small herb garden and plant fruit trees.”
“Of course,” she said, sitting up. “So? We’re at the beginning of our gardening and farming season in about a month. You got a tractor and plow? That soil needs to be turned, aerated, before you can plant anything.”
Dana admired Mary’s intelligence. “You’re right about that. The soil doesn’t look like it has been turned over for decades. I don’t have a tractor.”
“Want one?”
Taken aback, Dana stared at her. “What?”
“My son, Chase Bishop, has an old, antique farm tractor that’s not all electronic with wazoo doodads and computers in it. He was looking to sell it to someone who might have a use for it.”
“That sounds good, Mrs. Bishop—”
“Call me Mary.”
“Yes, ma’am—”
“Cut the politeness, too. I admire your respect, but remember what I said earlier, we’re all family. You don’t refer to family in those terms. Right?”
A sliver of a grin pulled at the corners of her mouth. “Okay, Mary, I can do that.”
A quick nod. “You want a job here because?”
“I need money to restore the cabin and rent or lease some farm equipment so I can realize my dream of bringing the Wildflower back to life.”
“You’re not afraid of hard work, are you? Or really tough challenges? But then, you’re a farm girl and been working every day of your life on your parents’ farm.”
“That’s true,” Dana admitted.
Mary scribbled a note on another piece of paper. “I’m gonna call my son, Chase Bishop, owner of the Three Bars Ranch. I’m gonna ask him to loan you that old John Deere tractor and have it brought over there by flatbed truck, so you can start using it. What else do you need?”
Taken aback, Dana’s head spun with confusion. “I . . . well . . . Mary, I’m looking for a job.”
“And you’re volunteering a full day at our food bank once a week, giving back to the community. Right?”
“. . . er . . . yes . . .”
“Remember? We’re family?” Mary poked an index finger toward her. “Family works together as a team. You don’t have the money to rent a tractor, so Chase is gonna loan you his old antique so you can get going turning that soil and readying it for planting.”
Stunned, Dana blinked, unable to speak.
“And,” Mary went on, making another note, “I’ll make sure he brings over the disc and other plowing equipment that you’ll need, as well as tools that go with farming. That place of yours needs a barn, you know? You have to have one to store your equipment, work on it, and keep it protected from the elements.”
“Yes,” Dana whispered, stunned, “I know that. It’s in my plans.”
“Good, good,” Mary praised. “You also need a wrangler. Can you afford one?”
“Yes, I think I can. Part of my plan was to hire someone to help me. I can’t do it alone and I know that.”
“I got just the gent for you. His name is Colin Gallagher. He’s a real loner, ex-military, has a lot of bad PTSD symptoms. He’s working for my son as a wrangler over at the Three Bars Ranch, but wants something smaller to work on. Colin is a hard worker, takes direction well, and won’t disappoint you.”
Dana didn’t know what to do or say. “I—uh . . . Mary, this is . . . well . . . amazing . . . thank you.”
“Here’s my plan for you, young lady,” she said, scribbling a third note. “I’ve been looking for a local valley farm to provide me with certain vegetables and fruits in season. I’m needing a good, responsible farmer to fill in because the person who was doing this, recently died. I need a new individual whom I can work with. If you’re amenable to that plan? I will pay you to do this, twenty-five dollars an hour, five days a week, eight hours a day. Fair enough?” She lifted her chin, eyes crinkling as she gazed at Dana.
Stunned by the offer, Dana whispered off-key, “You’d do this?”
“Well, of course I would! I believe in synchronicity. Pete, my dear old friend who used to provide my store for the last thirty years, passed on this last winter. I was looking for a replacement and here you are!”
Her mind whirled with the implications, the help she was going to magically receive.
“And,” Mary said, “Chase will continue to pay Colin Gallagher. He’s going to be ‘on loan’ to you to help you do the work that needs to be done around there. Your first priority, of course, is tilling the soil and getting the crops planted.” She pulled a paper from another stack, handing it to her. “Here’s a list of what I need vegetable-wise. You look it over and let me know if you’re interested in raising these particular crops. With fifty acres of flat valley at your disposal, I’m roughly calculating that you can supply my grocery store nicely. We’ll work out the details after you read up on my needs, and we’ll have several future meetings on your ideas for the land, planting, and so on.”
“You’re paying me to raise crops for you?”
“Yep.”
“Do you expect me to give them to you for free, even though you’re paying me to do it?”
Mary laughed and rocked in her chair. “I don’t do sharecropping. You’ll be paid market price for all your produce. I believe in treating everyone fairly and like family. There’s a lot of hard work involved in this farming and because you grew up on a farm, you understand that better than most.”
“I do.” Dana was relieved that she would be paid for the produce; she would need the income.
“For me, you’re a very valuable resource for our valley and my grocery store. But I want you to sign a contract with me, agreeing that no chemical fertilizers, herbicides, pesticides, or GMO seeds will ever be used.”
“I’m right there with you,” Dana said, trying to take all of this unexpected news in and digest it.
“I figured you were, but we’ll put that in writing because the people who come to my grocery store trust me. I’m not gonna let them down. Also, I’m assuming you’re aware of companion planting and utilizing certain flowers, like marigolds, among others, to plant along with the crops. They’re natural pesticides from nature, and that’s all you can use.”
“Yes, my parents never used anything other than what you’re talking about. They produced alfalfa for cube manufacturers and they wanted ‘clean,’ non-GMO alfalfa for the animals that would eat it. My mother always used alfalfa cubes in her garden as mulch, as well as the benefits from it because it’s a wonderful source of natural nitrogen in the right mix, for garden plants.”
“Good to know! I’m pleased.” Mary stood up and offered her long, thin hand across the desk to Dana. “Let’s shake on it. Around here, in most cases, a person’s word is her or his bond.”
Dana stood, smiled a little unsurely, still dizzied by what had just happened, and gently closed her hand around Mary’s. “You’ve got a deal, Mary. Thank you for this opportunity. I won’t let you down. I promise.” She released the woman’s hand. Mary’s face beamed, her eyes sparkling as she sat back down.
“Take my business card there,” she said, pointing toward it. “My personal cell phone number is on there. The people who work to make my grocery store what it is, can call me anytime they want. Welcome to our family.”
Colin Gallagher felt a huge, dark burden lift off his shoulders as he double-checked his flatbed load. The antique John Deere tractor was on board, the disc and other plows, plus a metal box filled with farm tools that this woman, Dana Scott, would need.
Earlier, Chase had come and gotten him out of one of the barns and told him his wish had been granted: He was assigning him to a small valley farm that had just been bought by a woman, that would be low stress compared to being around Three Bars. Mary had hired her to become her produce resource for the grocery store, and she asked that he assign a wrangler to help her. Colin jumped at the chance. He hated waking up at night, screaming, and then startling the other wranglers awake, as well. His PTSD was severe, and he was desperate to stop what was happening, but he couldn’t.
Fortunately, Chase had been in the military and understood. They were working on ten houses that would start to be built for the wranglers with families and after those were completed, for the single wranglers.. Until then, the single male wranglers all slept in the bunkhouse. The women wranglers had a separate bunkhouse.
He had been ready to quit because he was causing major sleep deprivation for the rest of the hands, until Chase had come by with this new assignment.
It felt as if life were being breathed back into him as he slowly walked around the flatbed, one more time checking the chains that held the tractor in place on it, as well as the wide, thick nylon straps across the other items.
“Colin,” Chase said, coming out of his office to see him. “My mother says there is no livable place on that ranch.”
Frowning, Colin said, “You mean I have to come back here every night and sleep in the bunkhouse?” It was the last thing he wanted to do. He saw Bishop grin a little. Their military background had bonded them closely, like brothers, to one another.
“No, I have a fix for it. Mary is buying a double-wide mobile home to be put on the place. I guess Dana, the owner, knows nothing about this yet, so you can break the news to her. You’ll both have a bedroom, one at each end of it, so you’ll have full privacy. It has two bathrooms, as well.”
Relief poured through Colin. “That’s mighty nice of Mary to do that for this woman, Dana.”
“Dana Scott is her name. Mary likes her a lot. All I know about her is that she’s a farm girl from the Willamette Valley in Oregon. She’s agreed to raise produce that Mary needs for the store, but don’t be shocked by how run-down the Wildflower Ranch is. There’s a small log cabin on it that should probably be torn down and plans drawn up for a house to be built on the site, instead. Mary counseled one step at a time, here. You okay sharing a trailer with her? It’s large enough to give you both space and you can meet in the center of it where the kitchen and dining room are located.”
“I’ll make it work.”
Chase clapped him on the back as they walked toward the front of the truck. “I know you’ve been worried about waking everyone at night.”
“Yeah,” he muttered, pulling his black Stetson down a little to shade his eyes from the rising sun.
“Well, these modern-day mobile homes are pretty airtight and soundproof, so as long as you close your bedroom door at night, I’m sure Dana won’t hear you.”
“That’s a big relief.”
“This mobile home has four bedrooms. Mary’s equipping the room next to your and Dana’s bedrooms, converting them into offices for each of you with two computer terminals. That way the two spare bedrooms become offices, something you’re going to need. And she’s arranging for a wide-screen TV for the living room.”
“I don’t watch much TV,” Colin admitted, halting and opening the door to the truck.
“You also have my permission to come back here for any tools or other machinery you need. Mary wants to make this as easy as possible on Dana, so she can make the planting this season, on June 1. You just leave a list of items you need in my office, and I’ll have someone drive it out to the Wildflower Ranch for you.”
Nodding, he climbed into the cab after pu. . .
“This is my new home. A new chapter in my life,” Dana Scott whispered to herself, sounding unsure about her decision. She had just bought a broken-down old log cabin and a hundred acres with the only money she had left in the world. This was her dream home.
She stood there in the cool morning at ten a.m., a range of Wyoming mountains behind and east of the cabin, rising out of the Silver Creek Valley. Fifty acres of land was composed of timber on the slopes covered with conifers. The rest of the land was on the flat Wyoming valley that was an agricultural paradise.
A slight breeze ruffled her loose red hair that lay against her shoulder blades. Pulling her denim jacket a little tighter around her, she felt panic rising and wrestled it down, as she always did. No stranger to fear, it had been a frequent friend the last few years of her life.
Drawing in a shaky breath, Dana had spent most of what her parents had left her, and the last of the money was in a bank in Silver Creek. She had no job—yet. She was farm raised, but there wasn’t much of a call for a woman who had farming skills nowadays.
Looking up at the sky, it was a pale blue, the morning air clean. The cheerful call of birds getting ready to nest was music that lifted her battered spirit.
Had she done the right thing? Spending money that could never be replaced, on this land and the broken cabin? Like the coward she was, she had run away from her traumatic past. Looking to make a break and start over, she’d left the Willamette Valley, a rich winery and agricultural country in Oregon, and headed to Wyoming. Having taken a master gardener course earlier in her life, she’d used her educational knowledge and checked out the pH of the soil here in this valley and it was perfect to grow many types of crops. Of all the places she’d had the potential to choose in four different states, this valley had the richest soil with the right mix of pH, consisting of alluvial silt from old rivers now disappeared, and loamy clay.
The Silver Creek Valley had just the right formula for a fruit tree orchard, too. Her mother, Cathy, had a green thumb that she’d passed on to Dana. She had plans for a huge garden just like the one she’d once had at their farm. Once more, Dana reminded herself that this was her dream home, no matter how dilapidated-looking the cabin was and how barren the Wyoming land seemed. It was just starting to come alive mid-April.
A new start. A new life.
Despite all these world-altering changes, she felt a void and emptiness within her heart that nothing, not even buying the Wildflower Ranch, could fill. This ranch had been established in 1900 by a German husband and wife. Gazing left to right, she could see the harsh winter had tamped down anything that had been growing wild here for several decades. There was a creek out back, perfect as an irrigation source for that garden and small orchard she’d envisioned in her mind.
She’d made an appointment with Mary Bishop, owner of Mama’s Store, the most popular place in town to buy anything, and she’d filled out an employment form earlier in the week. Today, she’d find out if she had a job or not. Mary sold only organic, non-GMO fruits, vegetables, and meat. Although she had not met Mary personally, everyone spoke highly of her, and she had an appointment in less than an hour to speak with her. Her stomach clenched in anxiety. She had to have a job!
Dana needed a line of income or she wouldn’t be able to make the payments on her ranch property and make her dream a reality. There was a lot of fear gnawing at her. Could she pull this off? Had she just wasted her parents’ hard-earned money?
Feeling anything but happy, she walked slowly around the log cabin. Behind her, the main highway leading into Silver Creek was a quarter of a mile away. The dirt road into the place was deeply rutted and lacked grading and the care it needed.
What was odd to her was that there had been a lot of vehicle traffic on it and she could see where the flat land had a road of sorts plowed through it, heading to the slope of the mountain, disappearing into the thick, dark woods. Maybe the locals were hunting and used the road? She didn’t know, but now that she had bought it, the first thing she was going to erect was a stout gate to stop unwanted visitors.
Her green Toyota pickup, more than ten years old, had handled the rutted dirt road easily. Turning on the heel of her work boot, she stared at the two twenty-foot-tall wooden posts standing upright at the entrance to the place. Over time and lack of yearly care, the carved wooden sign that had once rested across them to create a wonderful entrance, had toppled off those two stout timbers, thanks to the fierce winds that scoured the valley during the winter. It lay in two broken five-foot pieces, near the entrance. Etched into the battered, weathered oak sign were the words: WILDFLOWER RANCH. Whoever had been commissioned to create it had been a wonderful wood sculptor, because the words were carved into it, as well. It had lost its varnish a long time ago, the wood roughened by the weather. Still, she wanted to do something with it, get it fixed and lifted back into place where it had been for the family who had loved this place.
Dana wondered if Hilda, the German wife, had been responsible for that sign, or if one of her later descendants had it created? Dana would never know because the family had died out in 2000, with no one else to pass the ranch on to in their family. Since then, the land had lain dormant, unused, the cabin’s upkeep gone, leaving it and the land to the ravages of time and weather. No one, the Realtor had told her a week ago, would buy the ranch because of the small family log cabin. It would have to be razed and a new home built on the property. From his point of view, the land was worth something, but the log cabin was a total loss. She almost said her life was a total loss, too, but she bit back the remark. She had to rebuild her life, just like this cabin needed loving care and attention to come back to life, as well.
Dana didn’t want to destroy the cabin, built in 1900, because, in part, it symbolized how she’d felt for the last several years. Destroying the log cabin, to her, was like symbolically destroying herself. She wasn’t anywhere near healed from her experience, but saw the cabin as a reflection of where she was presently. Determined to save the cabin, and in doing so, she’d bought the place to save herself. Her mother had often said, Life is always unfair, but the way her entire world got upended, it was more than unfair. It was a daily hell on earth for her.
Glancing at her wristwatch, she noted that the appointment with Mary Bishop was thirty minutes away. Time to get a move on. Mary was considered the maven, the queen of Silver Creek, Dana had discovered in the last week of being here. The older woman, everyone warned her, didn’t act her age at all. She was spunky, driven, full of great ideas and easily excited over new projects. Dana thought, from talking to several people over at the Silver Creek food bank and kitchen where she volunteered on one day each weekend, that maybe the word passion best suited go-getter Mary Bishop, according to others. She was a woman on a mission and she took it seriously. Dana wanted this appointment with Queen Mary, and she meant that label in kind terms, not making fun of the elder at all. Queens could rule with grace, responsibility, and in her idealistic world, a queen would have a great love for her people. Mary sounded like such a person and that’s all Dana could ask for.
Mama’s Store was bustling with townspeople, lots of children and some people with service dogs, mixed among the crowded aisles. It was a huge place, far larger than she imagined from seeing it from the highway. A woman clerk led her back to Mary’s office.
Everyone was happy here, she noted. There were smiles, lots of laughter and neighborly chatting amongst those who pushed the grocery carts around the store. Stomach tight with fear of rejection, Dana followed, trying to keep her expression calm, not fearful or anxious. Pulse bounding with stress, she pushed through it, following the clerk through the loading dock area to a small glass-enclosed office. Inside, she could see a petite woman with short silver hair working at a large, messy-looking desk.
“Go on in,” the clerk invited, opening the door. “Mary, here’s Dana Scott. She had an appointment with you?”
Taking a deep breath, Dana moved forward, spotting a chair in front of the desk.
“Yep, she did. Come in, Dana,” Mary invited, lifting her head, waving her into the office.
Instantly, Dana could feel the elder’s piercing scrutiny. Her stomach clenched, the door closing quietly behind her. Would Mary have a job for her? “Yes, ma’am,” she said, standing, hands clasped in front of her.
“Sit, sit,” Mary murmured, and gestured toward the chair. She put down her pen and moved some papers to one side, grabbing a blank piece of paper and placing it in front of her. “It’s nice to meet you. Are you new to Silver Creek?”
Sitting, Dana murmured, “Yes, ma’am, I am. I’ve been here for two weeks.”
Squinting her eyes, Mary said, “I hear from Judy, over at the food bank, that you’ve signed up to work a day on weekends over there.”
Dana tried to keep the surprise off her face, but didn’t succeed. “Well . . . yes, yes, I did.”
“Why?”
This was supposed to be an employment interview. Thrown off by Mary’s question, Mary’s gaze fixed on her, making her feel as if she were being checked out, Dana tried to relax. Opening her hands, she said, “Because I was raised to give back to others who didn’t have as much as we did.”
Giving a nod, Mary said, “That’s commendable. We need folks like you in our valley. Here”—she looked around at the busy loading dock area where boxes of goods were being off-loaded from the semitruck—“we’re all one big, messy family.”
“The Realtor said the same thing,” she said, nodding.
“How’s that sit with you?”
“Fine. I grew up on a large farm in the Willamette Valley of Oregon and everyone knew everyone else. We were like a large family, too, of sorts.”
“Good to know.” She pulled an employment form from another stack of papers, looking down, frowning and studying it. “So? Why on earth would you leave your farm in Oregon to come here?” She looked up at Dana.
Uncomfortably, Dana moved in the chair. “Life changed,” was all she would say. “I needed to find something close to what we had in the Willamette Valley and start over.”
“Hmmm,” Mary said, giving her another searching look. “We buy organic produce from that valley. I’m very well aware of how important it is to Oregon. The Willamette is a north-south one-hundred-and-fifty-mile valley. Very rich soil there, and a wonderful place to grow any crop. Winery owners love that area, too. Silver Creek Valley has very similar soil conditions.”
“Yes, it was why I chose to come and put down roots here. I just bought the Wildflower Ranch.”
“Ah,” Mary said, sitting back in her chair. “Did you now?”
Dana wasn’t sure it was a smart thing to admit to Mary, who reminded her of an eagle, missing nothing. Her face was wrinkled, but that didn’t take away from the authority or power she had. “I know it’s run-down . . .”
“We all have times in our lives when we’re run-down, too. Even ranches here go through that up-and-down cycle. What do you think of the place?”
“It has possibilities. The soil is an excellent mix of alluvial and loamy clay; perfect for plants and fruit trees.”
“So?” she said, rocking back in her chair. “Tell me what your plan is for it?”
Dana wanted a job, not to discuss the broken land. Still, Mary’s interest was there and her voice was kinder once she found out she’d bought the ranch. She didn’t know why, but said, “I want to repair the cabin, use the fifty acres on the flat of the valley to grow organic vegetable crops and put in a small orchard of about thirty trees.”
“It has a nice, year round creek behind that cabin,” Mary said, nodding thoughtfully. “So, you’re going to farm it? Any animals you gonna raise on it?”
Shaking her head, she said, “I’m vegan. I don’t eat meat. I can’t stand to see animals slaughtered. I plan to raise vegetables, have a small herb garden and plant fruit trees.”
“Of course,” she said, sitting up. “So? We’re at the beginning of our gardening and farming season in about a month. You got a tractor and plow? That soil needs to be turned, aerated, before you can plant anything.”
Dana admired Mary’s intelligence. “You’re right about that. The soil doesn’t look like it has been turned over for decades. I don’t have a tractor.”
“Want one?”
Taken aback, Dana stared at her. “What?”
“My son, Chase Bishop, has an old, antique farm tractor that’s not all electronic with wazoo doodads and computers in it. He was looking to sell it to someone who might have a use for it.”
“That sounds good, Mrs. Bishop—”
“Call me Mary.”
“Yes, ma’am—”
“Cut the politeness, too. I admire your respect, but remember what I said earlier, we’re all family. You don’t refer to family in those terms. Right?”
A sliver of a grin pulled at the corners of her mouth. “Okay, Mary, I can do that.”
A quick nod. “You want a job here because?”
“I need money to restore the cabin and rent or lease some farm equipment so I can realize my dream of bringing the Wildflower back to life.”
“You’re not afraid of hard work, are you? Or really tough challenges? But then, you’re a farm girl and been working every day of your life on your parents’ farm.”
“That’s true,” Dana admitted.
Mary scribbled a note on another piece of paper. “I’m gonna call my son, Chase Bishop, owner of the Three Bars Ranch. I’m gonna ask him to loan you that old John Deere tractor and have it brought over there by flatbed truck, so you can start using it. What else do you need?”
Taken aback, Dana’s head spun with confusion. “I . . . well . . . Mary, I’m looking for a job.”
“And you’re volunteering a full day at our food bank once a week, giving back to the community. Right?”
“. . . er . . . yes . . .”
“Remember? We’re family?” Mary poked an index finger toward her. “Family works together as a team. You don’t have the money to rent a tractor, so Chase is gonna loan you his old antique so you can get going turning that soil and readying it for planting.”
Stunned, Dana blinked, unable to speak.
“And,” Mary went on, making another note, “I’ll make sure he brings over the disc and other plowing equipment that you’ll need, as well as tools that go with farming. That place of yours needs a barn, you know? You have to have one to store your equipment, work on it, and keep it protected from the elements.”
“Yes,” Dana whispered, stunned, “I know that. It’s in my plans.”
“Good, good,” Mary praised. “You also need a wrangler. Can you afford one?”
“Yes, I think I can. Part of my plan was to hire someone to help me. I can’t do it alone and I know that.”
“I got just the gent for you. His name is Colin Gallagher. He’s a real loner, ex-military, has a lot of bad PTSD symptoms. He’s working for my son as a wrangler over at the Three Bars Ranch, but wants something smaller to work on. Colin is a hard worker, takes direction well, and won’t disappoint you.”
Dana didn’t know what to do or say. “I—uh . . . Mary, this is . . . well . . . amazing . . . thank you.”
“Here’s my plan for you, young lady,” she said, scribbling a third note. “I’ve been looking for a local valley farm to provide me with certain vegetables and fruits in season. I’m needing a good, responsible farmer to fill in because the person who was doing this, recently died. I need a new individual whom I can work with. If you’re amenable to that plan? I will pay you to do this, twenty-five dollars an hour, five days a week, eight hours a day. Fair enough?” She lifted her chin, eyes crinkling as she gazed at Dana.
Stunned by the offer, Dana whispered off-key, “You’d do this?”
“Well, of course I would! I believe in synchronicity. Pete, my dear old friend who used to provide my store for the last thirty years, passed on this last winter. I was looking for a replacement and here you are!”
Her mind whirled with the implications, the help she was going to magically receive.
“And,” Mary said, “Chase will continue to pay Colin Gallagher. He’s going to be ‘on loan’ to you to help you do the work that needs to be done around there. Your first priority, of course, is tilling the soil and getting the crops planted.” She pulled a paper from another stack, handing it to her. “Here’s a list of what I need vegetable-wise. You look it over and let me know if you’re interested in raising these particular crops. With fifty acres of flat valley at your disposal, I’m roughly calculating that you can supply my grocery store nicely. We’ll work out the details after you read up on my needs, and we’ll have several future meetings on your ideas for the land, planting, and so on.”
“You’re paying me to raise crops for you?”
“Yep.”
“Do you expect me to give them to you for free, even though you’re paying me to do it?”
Mary laughed and rocked in her chair. “I don’t do sharecropping. You’ll be paid market price for all your produce. I believe in treating everyone fairly and like family. There’s a lot of hard work involved in this farming and because you grew up on a farm, you understand that better than most.”
“I do.” Dana was relieved that she would be paid for the produce; she would need the income.
“For me, you’re a very valuable resource for our valley and my grocery store. But I want you to sign a contract with me, agreeing that no chemical fertilizers, herbicides, pesticides, or GMO seeds will ever be used.”
“I’m right there with you,” Dana said, trying to take all of this unexpected news in and digest it.
“I figured you were, but we’ll put that in writing because the people who come to my grocery store trust me. I’m not gonna let them down. Also, I’m assuming you’re aware of companion planting and utilizing certain flowers, like marigolds, among others, to plant along with the crops. They’re natural pesticides from nature, and that’s all you can use.”
“Yes, my parents never used anything other than what you’re talking about. They produced alfalfa for cube manufacturers and they wanted ‘clean,’ non-GMO alfalfa for the animals that would eat it. My mother always used alfalfa cubes in her garden as mulch, as well as the benefits from it because it’s a wonderful source of natural nitrogen in the right mix, for garden plants.”
“Good to know! I’m pleased.” Mary stood up and offered her long, thin hand across the desk to Dana. “Let’s shake on it. Around here, in most cases, a person’s word is her or his bond.”
Dana stood, smiled a little unsurely, still dizzied by what had just happened, and gently closed her hand around Mary’s. “You’ve got a deal, Mary. Thank you for this opportunity. I won’t let you down. I promise.” She released the woman’s hand. Mary’s face beamed, her eyes sparkling as she sat back down.
“Take my business card there,” she said, pointing toward it. “My personal cell phone number is on there. The people who work to make my grocery store what it is, can call me anytime they want. Welcome to our family.”
Colin Gallagher felt a huge, dark burden lift off his shoulders as he double-checked his flatbed load. The antique John Deere tractor was on board, the disc and other plows, plus a metal box filled with farm tools that this woman, Dana Scott, would need.
Earlier, Chase had come and gotten him out of one of the barns and told him his wish had been granted: He was assigning him to a small valley farm that had just been bought by a woman, that would be low stress compared to being around Three Bars. Mary had hired her to become her produce resource for the grocery store, and she asked that he assign a wrangler to help her. Colin jumped at the chance. He hated waking up at night, screaming, and then startling the other wranglers awake, as well. His PTSD was severe, and he was desperate to stop what was happening, but he couldn’t.
Fortunately, Chase had been in the military and understood. They were working on ten houses that would start to be built for the wranglers with families and after those were completed, for the single wranglers.. Until then, the single male wranglers all slept in the bunkhouse. The women wranglers had a separate bunkhouse.
He had been ready to quit because he was causing major sleep deprivation for the rest of the hands, until Chase had come by with this new assignment.
It felt as if life were being breathed back into him as he slowly walked around the flatbed, one more time checking the chains that held the tractor in place on it, as well as the wide, thick nylon straps across the other items.
“Colin,” Chase said, coming out of his office to see him. “My mother says there is no livable place on that ranch.”
Frowning, Colin said, “You mean I have to come back here every night and sleep in the bunkhouse?” It was the last thing he wanted to do. He saw Bishop grin a little. Their military background had bonded them closely, like brothers, to one another.
“No, I have a fix for it. Mary is buying a double-wide mobile home to be put on the place. I guess Dana, the owner, knows nothing about this yet, so you can break the news to her. You’ll both have a bedroom, one at each end of it, so you’ll have full privacy. It has two bathrooms, as well.”
Relief poured through Colin. “That’s mighty nice of Mary to do that for this woman, Dana.”
“Dana Scott is her name. Mary likes her a lot. All I know about her is that she’s a farm girl from the Willamette Valley in Oregon. She’s agreed to raise produce that Mary needs for the store, but don’t be shocked by how run-down the Wildflower Ranch is. There’s a small log cabin on it that should probably be torn down and plans drawn up for a house to be built on the site, instead. Mary counseled one step at a time, here. You okay sharing a trailer with her? It’s large enough to give you both space and you can meet in the center of it where the kitchen and dining room are located.”
“I’ll make it work.”
Chase clapped him on the back as they walked toward the front of the truck. “I know you’ve been worried about waking everyone at night.”
“Yeah,” he muttered, pulling his black Stetson down a little to shade his eyes from the rising sun.
“Well, these modern-day mobile homes are pretty airtight and soundproof, so as long as you close your bedroom door at night, I’m sure Dana won’t hear you.”
“That’s a big relief.”
“This mobile home has four bedrooms. Mary’s equipping the room next to your and Dana’s bedrooms, converting them into offices for each of you with two computer terminals. That way the two spare bedrooms become offices, something you’re going to need. And she’s arranging for a wide-screen TV for the living room.”
“I don’t watch much TV,” Colin admitted, halting and opening the door to the truck.
“You also have my permission to come back here for any tools or other machinery you need. Mary wants to make this as easy as possible on Dana, so she can make the planting this season, on June 1. You just leave a list of items you need in my office, and I’ll have someone drive it out to the Wildflower Ranch for you.”
Nodding, he climbed into the cab after pu. . .
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Strength Under Fire
Lindsay McKenna
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