In the Rancher's Arms, page 6
She drove out to the other end of town and up the hill to the Wildflower Inn. She parked at the far end of the inn’s lot and sat staring out over the expanse of Blue Falls Lake and the falls at the far end that gave the lake and town their names. She remembered one day in her cage about halfway through the weeks of captivity how she’d spent hours fantasizing about this lake—how cool the water would feel against her sunburned skin, a breeze wafting across her cheeks, the sound of the gentle lapping against the shore. Now here she was seeing it with her own eyes again, and she couldn’t enjoy it. Too much of what had happened to her still clung to her like a heavy, oppressive second skin.
Give yourself time.
She forced herself to take a really slow breath then let it out just as slowly. Then she repeated the action twice more before she pushed open the car door and strode into the inn and up to the front desk.
“Can I help you?” the woman at the desk asked with a smile.
“Yes, I was wondering if you have any employment openings?”
“No, I’m sorry. We don’t get them very often, and the owner just filled the only one we had in housekeeping a couple of days ago.”
“Do you know of any job openings in town?”
The woman shook her head. “I’m afraid I don’t. You might ask at the Chamber of Commerce.”
Arden thanked the woman and headed to her car, already feeling wiped out. How long was it going to take for her to recover physically? If she did get a job, would she even make it through the first shift? As she crossed the parking lot, she couldn’t decide if she was upset or thankful the inn hadn’t had any positions open.
She should go down into the heart of Main Street and just hit up every business there and take the first thing that was available, no matter what. Instead, she found herself cruising along all the other streets in town, weighing her options. What, did she think the perfect job for a former reporter suffering from what had to be some level of PTSD was just going to drop into her lap?
As if her mind was on autopilot, she found herself pulling into the parking lot for the Blue Falls Gazette. She didn’t immediately cut the engine, instead sitting in the car and staring at the front of the building. She’d been the student reporter for the paper, contributing monthly articles as a sort of high school roundup, during her last two years at Blue Falls High. But she’d left the town, its paper and its local-interest stories behind long ago. Could she put a reporter hat back on, or would it just intensify her anxiety?
She thought about every other business in town and how none of them were going to be right for her. There’d only been one perfect fit, and this might be the closest she ever got to that again. Maybe she could have this small taste of who’d she’d been for years without having to worry her parents. She doubted the Gazette ever covered anything that would place her in any kind of danger. And the fact was that she had to do something. It would be easier to slip into a job she already knew how to do. Sure, it wasn’t a national news outlet, but the basics of writing for papers were the same no matter the circulation. If she could be embedded with US forces in the Middle East or write about the aftermath of a volcano eruption in Indonesia, she could manage covering wildflower tours and the high school band’s fruit sale fund-raiser.
Still, her nerves nearly talked her out of it as she turned off the car and stepped out. One long, deep breath later, she started for the door.
When she stepped into the building, the small newsroom was in a tizzy. Phones were ringing while the two people she could see were on other calls. There was a familiar buzz in the air, the kind that came from breaking news happening.
John Greene, the paper’s editor, and another woman Arden didn’t know, looked up at her entry. They stared for an extended moment, as if not believing what they were seeing, before John quickly finished his call then approached the front counter.
“Arden, how are you doing?” She’d heard the question seemingly a million times in the few days she’d been home, but John’s version of it seemed genuine without the sickly sweet inflection so many wrapped it in.
“Fine, thanks.”
“What can we do for you?”
Arden took a quick breath. “I was wondering if you have any reporting jobs available.”
John wasn’t able to hide his thought—that she’d lost her mind. He must have realized what he’d telegraphed to her because he shifted his weight and softened his expression.
“Are you sure you’re ready to go back to work?”
“Yes.” Fake it till you make it, right?
To John’s credit, he didn’t question her further, simply nodded that he understood her position.
“If you’re sure, I could use someone right now. I only have two reporters, and one’s out on maternity leave. And the other just called in that his car suffered a lot of hail damage in the storm. So I need you to go out and take photos of storm damage and talk to those affected.”
Arden’s heart started thumping extra hard, and her stomach twisted into uncomfortable knots. She’d only managed to talk herself into covering minor things—school awards, women’s club speakers, Jimmy Joe’s ginormous watermelon. She hadn’t counted on John throwing her in headfirst covering actual breaking news that was likely to land on the front page above the fold, along with her name. How long before larger news sources picked up on that and tracked her down, wanting her story? She was surprised they hadn’t been at the airport when she landed.
And now she faced having to go out and talk to lots of people—ones who would wonder why in the world she was already working so soon after an ordeal that had made national headlines. People who would ask those dreaded questions she didn’t want to answer. She would have to go to areas that were too remote for comfort, and she would have to go alone. She wasn’t even sure if she could make herself physically do it.
Maybe John’s initial reaction was spot-on and she had lost her mind. Maybe she’d left it thousands of miles away on an entirely different continent.
It was on the tip of her tongue to back out, to admit she’d made a mistake, but before she could John was already crossing to another ringing phone. He gestured toward an open door she knew led into the supply closet.
“Take what you need,” he said.
Arden swallowed the urge to throw up as she headed for the closet. Once inside, she told herself she could do this. Common sense said that the worst thing that was likely to ever happen to her already had, so she needed to appreciate that she’d survived relatively unscathed, suck it up and get on with life. She grabbed a camera, notepad and a couple of pens, and headed out.
John paused in his conversation to tell her what part of the county was hit hardest and that she should start there.
“There are multiple reports of damage out that way. Write your number down and I’ll text you info as I get it.”
She took one of the business cards from the holder on the front counter and wrote down her cell number.
“And be careful,” John added. “There are more storms due to roll in.”
She nodded before exiting the building. Was she really doing this? Going out and working only two weeks after she had been kept as a prisoner in a cage?
Arden shook off the negative thoughts as she slid into the driver’s seat of her car. Maybe it was an atypical response, but something deep inside her told her that if she didn’t push herself out there now, her anxiety would only worsen and she might never be able to do it.
Her thoughts drifted to how much calmer she’d felt standing with Neil at the rodeo. He wasn’t here now, but maybe if she focused on that feeling she’d get through this assignment, taking the first real step toward reclaiming some semblance of normalcy.
She consulted the weather map on her phone and realized she needed to get going if she wanted to take any photos before the next wave of storms hit the area. She followed FM 3712 out of town, keeping an eye out for damage. A few miles passed before she encountered a few small limbs in the road and pavement plastered with leaves. She pulled into a pasture access point and took a few photos before driving farther west. No texts had come in from John, and she wondered if he’d forgotten to send her the leads or he was still handling phone calls.
The farther Arden drove, the darker the sky grew. The wind picked up, and she worried that she might be exposing her mom’s car to damage she could ill afford. Arden couldn’t even offer her own car in exchange because she’d sold it before she’d headed to Somalia and then on to Uganda. There was no sense in having to pay insurance for a car that barely got driven, so when her roommate’s car was totaled Arden had sold hers to Daria for a good price for both of them. If Arden kept this job, she’d need to acquire her own set of wheels.
Her mind was busy doing calculations and determining where she might pick up a vehicle on the cheap when she rounded a curve to find cattle in the road. She yelped in the same moment she hit the brakes, sliding a little on the still-wet pavement.
Once again, her heart began thundering like a herd of buffalo. As she pressed her hand against her chest, a few sprinkles hit the windshield. She noticed a break in the fence across the road. There was no obvious cause for the damage, but it had allowed the cattle to escape the pasture nonetheless.
She looked around, trying to determine where exactly she was, then noticed the mailbox. There in big block letters was the word Hartley. Arden stared at it. Of all the ranches in the county, she’d ended up stopped in front of the one belonging to Neil’s family. What were the odds of that? She wasn’t much of a believer in things like fate, but the fact that she kept crossing paths with Neil made her wonder if she was wrong.
Fate or no, she had to tell the Hartleys their cattle were causing a dangerous situation out here—for the cattle and motorists—especially when visibility looked as if it might become more obscured in a few minutes. She was about to reverse and head up the driveway when she spotted someone approaching from that direction on horseback.
When Neil reined in next to her car and she lowered the window, the look of surprise on his face was unmistakable.
“Arden, what are you doing out here?”
“Covering the storm for the paper.”
If possible, he looked even more confused than he had a moment before.
“Do you mind backing up around the curve and putting on your emergency flashers?” he asked. “I don’t want anyone to get hurt here.”
Arden fought another wave of “go home and hide,” then nodded. Neil reined his horse around the opposite direction and she put her car in Reverse. She turned on the car’s flashers and cut the engine. For a few moments, she simply sat still as the pace of the rain increased.
“Come on. You can do this,” she said to herself, then grabbed the camera and got out of the car.
A minivan was approaching as she stepped out onto the pavement. Arden made the motion for them to turn around. When the driver rolled down her window and asked what was going on, Arden told her there were cattle in the road. Thankfully, the woman didn’t recognize her or was more concerned with the van full of kids, because she reversed until she reached a driveway a few yards away and turned around.
Arden hurried around the curve, determined to get some photos before Neil succeeded in clearing the road of cattle. It might be her best chance of getting photos if it continued to rain the rest of the day. There had been precious little clear radar behind the leading edge of this new storm. The likelihood of flash flooding, added to the previous hail and wind damage, was pretty high.
By the time she caught sight of Neil, other riders were approaching. Whether they didn’t see her or just ignored her in favor of the task at hand, they moved to help Neil guide the cattle toward the break in the fence.
Arden stayed clear of the action but started snapping photos of the cattle, the riders, horses, the broken fencing. As she was zooming in on the fence, that’s when she noticed the tread marks in the grass leading up to it. Someone had run into the fence and then just left. What an irresponsible ass.
The Hartleys had ushered several of the cows into the pasture, and someone appeared at the end of the driveway in a pickup truck. When the older man got out of the truck, she realized it was Neil’s dad. He was grayer than she remembered, but he was still a good-looking man. She started to wonder if Neil would look similar as he got older when she recalled that the two men weren’t actually related. Did Neil know who his birth parents were? What were they like?
Okay, that’s not what you’re here for.
Just as she turned to search for more shots, one of the cows broke away from the others and headed down the road toward Arden. Acting on instinct, she took a photo then swung the camera around to her back and spread her arms wide.
“Oh, no you don’t,” she said as the cow tried to go around her. Arden matched the cow’s shift and managed to get it turned toward the others.
Neil rode up beside the wayward cow, preventing the animal from making another break for freedom. He glanced over his shoulder. “Thanks.”
She nodded then moved closer to where a couple of the Hartleys were now preparing to repair the gap in the fence. As they got the last of the cows into the pasture and made quick work of fixing the fence, Arden shot a few more pictures before covering the camera with her arms to protect it from the increasing rain. She and all of the Hartleys were soaking wet, but they’d impressed her with their teamwork and efficiency.
An old pang she hadn’t experienced in a long time, the one she’d had as a kid without siblings, bubbled up to the surface. She’d seen plenty of multiple-sibling families from the outside, but she had no idea what that experience really felt like.
She came out of her trip to the distant past when she noticed someone approaching her. It took a moment, but then she realized the drenched woman was Sloane.
“You should come up to the house to dry off and get a hot cup of coffee in you,” Sloane said, thankfully eschewing any hugs or the initial “How are you?” question Arden had grown accustomed to.
Again, Arden had to resist the need to retreat to the safety of home, but she had a job now and she needed to do it. She had to interview people for the article, so it might as well be people she knew and around whom she might be more comfortable.
“Okay. Thanks.”
As she made her way toward her mom’s car, she noticed one of the Hartleys had ridden that way and was directing traffic on through now that the way was clear. She waited until the three cars passed before she crossed the road and dropped her sodden self into the dry interior of the car. She wiped the water off her face and caught sight of herself in the rearview mirror.
Wow, that’s attractive. She looked as if she’d decided to take a shower with her clothes on.
Remembering she needed to get out of the road before another vehicle came along, she started the engine and drove the short distance to the Hartleys’ driveway. Here she hesitated, wondering what lay at the other end of the gravel drive. Maybe she could go home and dry off, call and interview the Hartleys from the safety of her bedroom.
Arden growled at herself and gripped the steering wheel tighter. “I can do this. I will do this.”
She lifted her foot from the brake pedal and drove on, underneath the wooden Rocking Heart Ranch sign. She just had to keep reminding herself that she had to continue to move forward instead of looking backward.
Chapter Five
Arden followed the Hartley family up the driveway to their house. Despite the rain, she liked the look of the place as she approached. A sprawling rock veneer home sat at a right angle from a garage with a similar exterior. A few live oak trees were scattered around the house and between it and a barn that was blurred by the rain.
She parked at the far end of a line of cars and trucks. She supposed having a family of seven people, all of driving age, required a lot of vehicles.
Arden noticed someone heading toward her car and she pushed away the initial surge of concern. The Hartleys were good people, given the seal of approval by her own mother, no less, so nothing bad would happen to her here.
She opened the door to find Neil standing there holding an oilskin jacket. He draped it over her head and back and guided her toward the house just as a loud boom of thunder made her jump.
“Shouldn’t you be wearing this?” she asked.
“I’m already soaked to the bone.”
“I’m not far behind.” In fact, were it not for Neil’s closeness, she might actually be shivering.
When they hurriedly stepped into the Hartleys’ comfortable-looking living room, the scene was positively comical. They looked like a litter of nearly drowned kittens. Even the shepherd sitting next to the couch cocked her head sideways as she looked at them.
Diane Hartley, the matriarch of this motley crew, stepped through a doorway on the opposite side of the room, shook her head and started motioning people toward a hallway.
“Don’t just stand there dripping all over the floor. Go change into dry clothes.”
Angel, the youngest of the clan, stepped up next to Arden. “Come on. I’ll get you something dry.”
Arden followed Angel to her room and was surprised to see a profusion of toys scattered about. In addition to the full bed on one side of the room, there was a twin bed in one of the opposite corners. It was covered by a comforter with a pattern of large, colorful flowers. The sheet and pillowcase, by contrast, had a theme of horses and cowboy boots. The bed was flanked by an overflowing toy box and a white nightstand with pastel-colored pull knobs. Atop it sat a lamp with a shade decorated with little cowgirls riding horses.
“Julia can’t decide if she wants to be a girly girl or a tomboy. It changes from day to day, sometimes within the same day.”
