The Forest Ranger's Promise

by Bale, Leigh

  “If your daughter’s young, who’s watching her while you’re gone?” Melanie asked.

  He explained about Karen. “Shelley’s a great kid, but she’s lonely. She misses her mom and her friends.”

  “Don’t worry. There’re several women in town who run summer child care out of their homes to make extra money.”

  “Yeah, for everyone except the new forest ranger.” He couldn’t keep the cynicism from his voice.

  “I take it you’ve already asked them?”

  “Yep, and each one said no.”

  “Really?” Disbelief filled her voice.

  He snorted. “Don’t look so surprised. One woman was polite, but I saw the anxiousness in her eyes when she found out who I was. The other two women bluntly told me they would never watch the forest ranger’s brat.”

  She glanced at him, her eyes round with shock. “They actually said that?”

  “Quote, unquote.” And where did that leave him and Shelley? He’d never leave her with people who might treat her badly. His child care predicament bordered on desperate.

  “I’m sorry. That’s not very Christian-like.” Melanie’s mouth tensed as she gripped the steering wheel.

  “Don’t worry about it. Even you’d rather be anywhere but here helping me.”

  Her cheeks flamed with guilt. “Is it that obvious?”

  “Like a fist punch to the nose.”

  “I don’t mean to be rude,” she admitted.

  “I know. It’s just that Shelley misses her mom and still doesn’t understand why she has to live with me.” His voice softened. “She’s a lot like her mother. Prefers dresses to tromping around the mountains on a horse. But I love her so much. She’s all I have left.”

  He heaved a deep sigh, then clamped his mouth closed. He must remember that this woman was a rancher and didn’t trust him. Yet.

  “I’m sorry for your trouble.”

  “Thanks. I just want to do a good job here,” he said. “My dad died when I was a senior in high school and Mom couldn’t keep the ranch going even with my help. We sold off our land and that’s when I decided to get a college education, so I could become a forest ranger and help other ranchers. I’m really not an ogre.”

  She blinked, seeming to think this over.

  “Can you recommend a child care provider until school starts up in the fall who won’t care what I do for a living?” he asked.

  She hesitated, then shook her head, her long auburn hair falling softly around her shoulders. “Just the women you’ve already tried. I pretty much keep to myself out at Opal Ranch and don’t have time to mingle a lot with the townsfolk.”

  Something in her tone warned that he’d pushed her out of her comfort zone. She stared straight ahead, a frown curling the corners of her mouth. She didn’t clarify, but he suspected there was a reason she didn’t associate with the people in town and he couldn’t help wondering why. For now, he decided to change the topic. “Opal Ranch is your home?”

  “Yes, we’re fifteen miles outside of town.”

  “How many bands of sheep are you running?”

  “Two.”

  “With about four thousand head?”

  “Closer to three.” At his questioning look, she continued. “We’ve had some setbacks.”

  “Such as?”

  “Such as nosy forest rangers,” she retorted.

  Wow! She was definitely harboring ill feelings toward the previous ranger. He could see he had his work cut out for him to resolve the anger issues in this town. Her clipped answers told him she didn’t want to talk, but he should know this information as the new ranger. “How many acres of grazing land do you own?”

  “Enough.”

  He smiled at the quirky way her full lips pursed together in disapproval. “I’m only trying to get to know your needs as one of the permittees. I just want to help.”

  “Are you laughing at me?”

  He dropped the smile from his face, realizing she was dead serious. “Absolutely not.”

  “Good.” She jutted her chin. “We have ten acres of corrals, eighty acres of hay land and another seventy acres of dry pasture, along with lambing and shearing sheds.”

  “Sounds like you have a busy operation.”

  “It’s not a sideline, if that’s what you mean. Some people come out here from the city, setting up a hobby ranch so they can play with the sheep and cows. For my family, it’s our livelihood and our way of life. My family has owned Opal Ranch for generations. It would kill me to lose our land and—” She clamped her mouth closed, as if realizing she was telling him too much. “I understand.”

  She glanced at him, a doubtful frown creasing her brows. “Do you really?”

  “Yes, I do. Really. You don’t like me very much.” He shouldn’t have said that. He’d always been too direct. Allison never liked that aspect of his personality. He called things as he saw them, but Allison preferred to play silent, sulking games. He’d never known a person who could hold a grudge as long as Allison.

  Melanie glanced at him, her green eyes shooting daggers. “If you were me, would you like the ranger very much?”

  “Sure. I’m a nice guy and I’ve never done anything to hurt you.”

  She took a deep, exasperated breath before letting it go. “Surely they told you the problems stirred up by the last ranger here in Snyderville?”

  “They?” he asked.

  “Yeah, your bosses. The people you work for. They must have told you about the trouble the last ranger caused.”

  “Yes, that’s why they brought me in. To help smooth all of that over.”

  She snorted. “And how do you intend to do that?”

  “One permittee at a time. I thought I’d start with you.”

  “No.” She shook her head, staring straight ahead.

  “You don’t even know me.”

  “I think that’s best,” she said.

  “And yet you helped me.”

  “Wouldn’t you have done the same?” She tilted her head to look at him, her delicate features outlined in shadows. She seemed too dainty to be running a sheep ranch, and he got the impression she made up in spirit what she lacked in physical strength.

  “Of course I would.” He met her eyes. “What did the other ranger do to upset you so much?”

  “For one thing, he made a lot of promises he never kept.”

  “I won’t do that. Not ever.” And he meant it.

  “We’ll see.”

  He sighed, realizing it would take time for him to prove himself.

  She squirmed in her seat. “Look, can we change the subject?”

  “Sure. What do you want to talk about?”

  She didn’t bat an eye. “How old is your daughter?”

  “Almost eleven.”

  “My Anne is eleven.”

  He peered through the darkness at the sleeping girl, finding her mouth open slightly as she breathed. She looked like a sweet child. A smaller version of Melanie, with a pert nose and cheeks sprinkled with freckles and auburn hair like her mom’s. “What grade is she in?”

  “She’ll start sixth grade in the fall.”

  “Shelley will be in the sixth grade, too. Maybe they can be friends.”

  Melanie looked doubtful and then he remembered Anne’s accusation on the mountain. “Why does Anne blame me for her father’s death?”

  Melanie sucked in a deep breath.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” he added. “Is that getting back into a taboo subject?” He tried to tease her, to lighten things up a bit, but the look on her face told him it wasn’t working. He saw something in her eyes, something vulnerable and fearful. From the little he knew about this woman, he realized she’d been hurt and he sensed the pain went deeper than just the loss of her husband. What had happened to her?

  She licked her top lip, seeming to choose her words carefully. “Let’s just say the last ranger wasn’t a nice man and let it go at that.”

  Her revelation made Scott’s mind run rampan
t. He’d never met Ben Stimpson, but he’d heard that the man used some illegal threats to force the ranchers to do his bidding. Had Stimpson threatened Melanie?

  Scott sensed a deep reticence in her words. Once her husband died, Ben could have helped Melanie and her daughter, making their lives much easier. Or he could have made things more difficult. Scott figured from Melanie’s comments that it had been the latter.

  They didn’t speak much over the next few miles. When she pulled into Snyderville, he breathed a sigh of relief. One lonely streetlight guided their way down Main Street. The morning sun had just peeked over the eastern mountains and he was grateful they were all home safe.

  Karen, her husband, Mike, and Scott’s range assistant, Jim Tippet, were all at his house to meet him. As Melanie pulled into the gravel driveway, they came outside fully dressed, Jim’s thinning hair sticking up in places.

  “Thank goodness you’re home. Are you okay?” Karen asked as she rushed over to take Scott’s arm.

  “I’m fine, thanks to Mrs. McAllister.” Scott smiled at Melanie, who stood back with her arms folded. Anne continued sleeping in the truck.

  Jim looked at Melanie. “Good thing you were up on the mountain and found him when you did.”

  A tight smile curved her lips. “I was glad to help.”

  Yeah, right. Scott doubted her words, but he respected her for doing the right thing in spite of her dislike for him. Without her and Anne, he’d probably be dead now.

  “Let me unload Tam and I’ll put him in the corral before I drive Mrs. McAllister home.” Jim went to retrieve Scott’s horse.

  “I’ll help you,” Mike said.

  As the two men rounded the back of the horse trailer, Scott looked at the Forest Service house, painted white with green trim. Someone had turned the porch light on. Even though he had kind people here to help, he felt overwhelmed by loneliness. “Where’s Shelley?”

  “Inside sleeping. She doesn’t even know anything happened,” Karen said.

  “Good. I didn’t want to frighten her.” No matter what, he wanted to protect his daughter and let her have as normal a childhood as possible.

  “Let’s get you inside so you can rest,” Karen urged.

  Scott reached out his hand to Melanie. “Thank you, Mrs. McAllister. I owe you.”

  Melanie hesitated before shaking his hand. Her fingers felt chilled and delicate against his.

  “You don’t owe me a thing,” she said.

  Scott watched her return to the truck, sliding in beside her sleeping daughter. Injured and alone on the mountain without a horse, he could have died. He had Melanie to thank for his life. Right then, he decided he would do everything in his power to return the favor.

  As Karen led him up the front steps to his house, he stared at the front door. Thinking about the big, empty rooms, he wished he didn’t have to go inside. If only he had someone to come home to each night besides Shelley. Someone who loved and cared for him as much as he cared for her.

  Chapter Three

  “Why do we have to come here, Dad? I wanna go home.” Shelley crinkled her nose with repugnance as Scott rapped his knuckles on the front door of the red-brick house.

  White trim surrounded each sparkling window. The front porch circled the house, with white paint peeling along the slim columns supporting the second floor. The front gate stood ajar, sagging on its hinges. Cracked cement along the foundation showed a lack of care. Several boards hung loose on the toolshed at the back edge of the lawn. Everything looked tidy, but repair jobs had been ignored. It occurred to him that Melanie McAllister might need his help as much as he needed hers.

  “Shell, I’ve already explained to you three times,” he told his daughter. “The people living here saved my life. The least we can do is thank them.”

  The girl released an exaggerated sigh. “All right.”

  Opal Ranch. Jim had told Scott that the ranch had been named for the white and gold mountains surrounding the valley. Poplars lined the long gravel driveway. Scott remembered Melanie talking about the beautiful sunsets and he could understand why she loved it here. As the summer breeze blew through the treetops, he envied the beauty and solitude of this place.

  Shelley peered at the open fields of hay and alfalfa. Boredom crinkled her brow. She stood beside him wearing a short white skirt and sandals, her long, blond hair pulled back with a pink ribbon. Delicate and pretty as a picture.

  She held a paper plate of homemade chocolate chip cookies covered with tin foil. Thinking it might be quality time together, he’d insisted that she help him make the cookies after he took two aspirin for his pounding headache. She’d sat on a kitchen stool and munched chocolate chips while he mixed the dough. No amount of cajoling could get her to help measure out the flour and eggs.

  “Why couldn’t you just call to say thank you?” the girl complained.

  “You wanted something to do. We’re doing something right now.” He forced a smile, her grumbling getting on his nerves. In addition to her pretty looks, she’d inherited her mother’s penchant for whining. He hoped to change that someday soon.

  “Maybe no one’s home.” A hopeful lilt filled her voice.

  “Maybe they’re working out back.” Scott peered at the rusty old truck sitting in the driveway. He let go of the screen door and it clapped closed. His booted heels pounded the wood as he walked the length of the porch. He ducked his head so he wouldn’t hit the hanging baskets of white petunias and blue lobelia. Several large clay pots filled with white, fragrant alyssum sat along the edge of the porch and he breathed in deeply. Having a background in botany, he was probably one of the few regular men in the world who knew these names.

  He glanced around with interest. The green lawn showed impeccable grooming, with flower beds of tall hollyhocks. A vegetable garden of peas, lettuce and beets filled the backyard, guarded by a white picket fence. No tomato or pepper plants. Scott knew they wouldn’t grow well at this cooler elevation.

  It seemed Melanie had a green thumb and he liked that for some odd reason.

  Shelley followed him, hanging back as a black-and-white border collie with droopy ears trotted out of the barn. The animal gave one bark, then greeted them by sniffing their legs.

  “Will he bite?” Shelley circled her dad, seeking protection.

  “I don’t think so.” Scott leaned forward and put out his hand, letting the animal sniff him. Considering they were strangers, the dog seemed composed and gentle. Most likely one of Melanie’s sheepdogs, trained to be calm and not bark a lot.

  “Hi there, fella. Where’s your master?” Scott scratched the dog’s ears.

  “Probably in the barn,” Shelley said.

  “Hello! Anyone here?” Scott stood at the back of the McAllisters’ house and shouted. He gazed at the variety of green fields, lean-to’s for working in the hot sun, barns, sheds and corrals filled with sheep. Low fences with tight rails and netting kept the sheep from squeezing through. A tractor, four-wheelers and other equipment sat parked neatly at the side of the garage. Melanie could be anywhere, even up on the mountain. He figured that since they’d been up all night at the hospital, she would have had a late start, like him, and stayed home to work today.

  “Dad! Look at the babies,” Shelley exclaimed, pointing at a corral where approximately thirty small lambs scampered around, bawling for their mothers.

  “Come on.” Scott stepped off the porch and headed across the road leading to the barn. The dog trotted beside them, its tongue lolling out of its mouth as it panted. The stench of animals filled the air.

  “Yuck! It stinks here.” Shelley pinched her nose.

  “Breathe through your mouth instead of your nose. You’ll get used to it,” Scott advised.

  The girl gave him a look of incredulity, which he ignored. It had been tempting to leave Shelley with Karen today, but he knew they’d never become close that way. The sooner Shelley got used to living in Snyderville, the happier she’d be. Which would make him happy. He hop
ed.

  At the corrals, Shelley stood on the bottom rail of the fence, holding the plate of cookies as she leaned over the top rail to peer at the little, fluffy lambs. He hoped she didn’t drop the plate.

  “Oh, they’re so cute. Can we play with them?”

  Scott chuckled. “I thought you didn’t want to come along. You thought this would be boring.”

  She showed a grin of slightly crooked teeth. “That was before I knew we were gonna see sweet little babies.”

  Victory! He’d finally found something she liked.

  “Come on. Let’s see if anyone’s here. Maybe you can play with the lambs.” He inclined his head toward the barn.

  The wide double doors stood open, the bright sunlight filtering inside. As Scott stepped into the shadows, he caught the pungent aroma of straw and animals. Dust motes floated in the air. Stalls lined one wall of the barn with a small tractor, shovels and other tools hanging neatly on hooks along the other wall. He heard voices coming from the opposite end of the barn.

  “You think she’s too tender to ride?”

  “Nah, she’ll be all right. Won’t you, girl?”

  Scott followed the voices, hearing several muted clapping sounds, as if someone were patting a horse.

  Conscious of Shelley hovering at his heels, he peered into a stall at the far end of the barn. An older man wearing a beat-up Stetson and a white, scruffy beard stood bent over a mare’s right front leg. The man held the animal’s hoof between his knees. Wearing baggy, faded blue jeans and old cowboy boots, he used a metal pick to clean dirt away from the sole of the horse’s hoof. He grunted as he fought to reach over his own rotund belly.

  Melanie stood leaning against the stall, one booted foot raised and braced against the wooden wall behind her. Her forehead crinkled and her delicate jaw tensed as she watched the farrier work. Strands of auburn hair came free of her long braid, resting against her flushed cheeks. Even wearing blue jeans, she looked too feminine for such work, but Scott knew better. Life couldn’t be easy with her husband gone, but this woman had spunk and was sure of what she was doing. Scott couldn’t help admiring her.