Wagonload Of Trouble

by McDonough, Vickie;

  Copyright

  ISBN 978-1-60260-520-6

  Copyright © 2009 by Vickie McDonough. All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the permission of Truly Yours, an imprint of Barbour Publishing, Inc., PO Box 721, Uhrichsville, Ohio 44683.

  Scripture taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®. niv®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved.

  All of the characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events is purely coincidental.

  Our mission is to publish and distribute inspirational products offering exceptional value and biblical encouragement to the masses.

  One

  “I’m sorry, ma’am, but there are not sufficient funds in your account to cash this check.”

  Bethany Schaffer stared at the young female teller, confusion clouding her mind. Why would her father send her a check for traveling expenses back home if there was no money in the ranch account? And how could that be? The dark-eyed bank clerk handed back her check and a receipt with the balance of the account imprinted on it then glanced down at the counter and fiddled with a pen.

  Bethany stared at the paper. $56.38? There’s no way this can be right.

  She glanced up at the teller. “Are you certain you entered the correct account number? For Moose Valley Ranch? I’m Bethany Schaffer, and my father owns the ranch.”

  The woman nodded. “I’m sure, but I can check again if you’d like.”

  “Yes. Please do.”

  The teller tapped on her keyboard, her lips pursed. A few seconds later, she turned the monitor so Bethany could read it.

  As if she’d jumped into a frigid lake in late December, a cold numbness seeped through her. She double-checked the name at the top of the screen and the account number. How could the ranch’s balance be so low? Dad hadn’t mentioned any financial troubles, and there had been at least forty thousand dollars last time she checked the account. Her dad had never been great with numbers, but to allow that bank account to get so low—it didn’t make sense. Could something be wrong with him? Bethany thanked the teller then turned away, still trying to make sense of the account balance. The ranch had been through many hard times in the eighty years her family had owned it, but to be scraping the bottom of the barrel. . .

  She stuck the useless check and her ID back into her purse. She hadn’t even planned to cash it, but a nail in her tire had caused an added expense on the way home. She walked over to the ATM, pulled out her debit card, and made a withdrawal from her personal account so that she’d have enough cash to fill her gas tank and make it to the ranch. Then she returned to her Jeep.

  Her father sure had some explaining to do. How could he have used up so much money? Had there been some big emergency that he hadn’t told her about? As long as she’d been old enough to help with the bookkeeping, Moose Valley’s balance had never even been close to zero.

  Concern battled irritation. Bethany popped the Jeep into gear, squealing the tires as she pulled out of the parking lot. She’d wanted to leave Moose Valley Ranch and its boring life in the Upper Wind River valley of western Wyoming, and she had. She slapped the steering wheel and pulled into the gas station. Her heart suddenly constricted. Had Dad called her home to tell her he was bankrupt? Could they lose the ranch?

  The ranch had been the only home she’d known until she had gone away to college. As much as she had wanted to leave, she hated the thought of not having a home to return to. She studied the small town as she pumped the gas. In the four years that she’d been attending college in Denver, little had changed. Many of the old, familiar businesses were still there behind the Old West storefront facades, but new ones had also sprung up in the scenic tourist town. With the badlands to the east and mountain peaks surrounding the town on the west, south, and north, there were endless things for visitors to see and do. Bethany rubbed the back of her neck and stuck the nozzle back into the gas pump. Her family’s guest ranch was just one that competed against many others for the tourist dollars that saw them through the long winters. Why, she couldn’t begin to count the number of trail rides she’d led or accident-prone greenhorns she’d doctored.

  But she’d hoped all that was in her past.

  She paid the clerk inside the store and headed back to her Jeep. In just three weeks she would start working as an accountant for a big manufacturing plant in Denver. She’d have health insurance and benefits. She had less than a month to get things straightened out at the ranch so that she was free to begin her new life.

  She started up the engine. Yep, just three weeks. Then she could kiss the Wyoming wilderness good-bye and return to the big city and all its amenities. Her thoughts traveled back to the bank account as she pulled onto the highway. Her stomach swirled as her mind was assaulted with concerns. What could have happened at the ranch to deplete their whole bank account? Why hadn’t her dad called her sooner? What if she couldn’t fix the problems in such a short time?

  ❧

  Evan Parker leaned toward his computer monitor and maneuvered the tiny video game character—a character who looked amazingly like himself—through a maze of challenging hazards and over a hill to a tree abounding in colorful fruits labeled with the names of the fruits of the Spirit. The little man leaped up and plucked an apple labeled Love off a branch and dropped it into the basket that sat under the tree. The counter at the top of the screen added another 100 points to his score. The character snagged another fruit marked Patience.

  “C’mon, keep going. Don’t crash on me now.” He jiggled the game controller, and the man grabbed a rotten apple and yanked it off the tree. A spiraling sound echoed from the speakers, and the monitor screen went blank. Evan flopped back in his office chair, the weight of his body sending it rolling backward. Not again.

  “See, I told you the game was still crashing at that spot,” said Ben Walker, a member of the game design team, through the speaker phone. “Several of the programmers here at headquarters looked at it, but they can’t find the problem.”

  “I’ve redone the code on that section three times, but I must have missed something. I’ll have another look at it after dinner.” Evan rolled his head around to work the kinks out of his neck, leaned back in his chair, and looked at the ceiling of his home office. He needed to get past this problem and work on the next section of the Christian video game he was helping design. He had to succeed. His dream was riding on this.

  “Hey, sweat not,” Ben said, “we’re a little ahead of schedule.”

  “Thanks. Listen, I’m having dinner at my sister’s house tonight, so I’ve got to go.” Evan started the shutdown on his computer and turned off his monitor.

  “Mmm. . .home-cooked food. Lucky you. I’m having my usual three-course microwave supper tonight. Talk to you tomorrow.”

  The line went dead, and Evan clicked off his phone. He ought to be working tonight, but Erin had wooed him with not just one of his favorites—chicken and dumplings—but also with butterscotch pie.

  What could his sister want to talk about that required her to make two of his favorite foods? He searched his mind, trying to remember if she’d mentioned something to him before about watching the kids or doing a job he’d forgotten about, but he drew a blank.

  He took a quick shower then gelled his short hair, raking his fingers through it until it looked passable. He rubbed his hand over his five o’clock shadow. “Better to skip shaving than be late to dinner, dude.”

  He grabbed a sh
irt off the back of a kitchen chair and sniffed to make sure it was still clean. Five minutes later he was on his way. As he drove past the quiet University of Wyoming campus, he felt his tense neck and shoulder muscles begin to relax. “No classes to teach this summer. No, sir.”

  No more lesson plans to prepare or projects or papers to grade. He turned the vehicle onto Erin’s street, grinning. And if things went as planned, he’d never have to go back to teaching. Not that teaching was bad, but he wanted more freedom with his schedule—and landing the gaming contract was just what he needed.

  He stopped at a red light. In the two weeks since the spring semester had ended, he’d gotten quite a bit of programming done on the video game. Not as much as he’d hoped, but at least he wasn’t behind schedule.

  Five minutes later he pulled into Erin’s driveway. But his ten-year-old nephew didn’t come flying out the door upon Evan’s arrival like he usually did. He climbed out of his new hybrid SUV and beeped the lock and alarm on the remote then ran his hand along the blue paint, marveling at the fact that he’d finally purchased his dream machine. As he walked up the driveway, he noted again that Erin’s house needed to be painted. Somehow he’d have to squeeze in time for that while the weather was warm.

  He stepped into the modest home that smelled like fresh-cooked chicken. His stomach growled, and he was glad that he’d taken the time to come. He crossed through the entryway and noted the empty kitchen. The pot on the stove beckoned him, and he couldn’t resist swiping his finger along the top and sticking it into his mouth. “Mmm. Awesome!”

  “It’s not the same, Mom. He’ll ruin everything.” Taylor’s loud voice reverberated down the short hallway.

  What had Jamie done to upset the finicky fourteen-year-old girl now? Evan wanted his own kids one day but wouldn’t mind if they could just skip the whole teen scene. Being a single mother, Erin had her hands full and didn’t need Taylor acting up. He could hear Erin’s soft, patient voice replying to Taylor but couldn’t make out the words.

  “But, Mo–om. He’s such a geek.”

  Ouch! Geek didn’t begin to describe sports-minded Jamie, so Taylor must have been upset about someone else. He didn’t know whom Taylor referred to, but he felt sorry for the guy. He returned to the kitchen and set the table. What was so bad about being a geek anyway?

  Footsteps echoed behind him, and he glanced over his shoulder. His sister’s lips were pressed into a thin line, but her blue eyes lit when she saw him. “Hey! I didn’t hear you come in.”

  “I get to sneak bites that way.” He grinned.

  Erin looked at the pot on the stove, where its lid sat crooked. “You did steal a bite, you rascal.”

  Evan held up his hands. “Guilty as charged.”

  His sister pulled down three bowls. “Jamie isn’t eating. He’s got chicken pox.” The last word came out on a sigh.

  “That stinks.” Evan scratched his arm and then crinkled his brow. Two days ago he and Jamie had been roughhousing, and he’d seemed fine then. Evan sure didn’t need to get sick this summer with all he had to do. “Have I had them?”

  “Yeah, we both have. Although, if I remember correctly, you only had a very mild case. Taylor had them in kindergarten, so she’s safe. Don’t you remember how she cried when she missed so much school that fall? Oh, how times change.” Erin shook her head. She pulled the lid off the chicken and dumplings, and the kitchen filled with the fragrant scent, making Evan’s mouth water as she dished up the three bowls. Erin added a scoop of green peas to each bowl and set them on the table. “Taylor, dinner’s ready.”

  Evan fixed two glasses of water and one of milk for Taylor and set them beside the bowls; then he took his spot at the head of the table. He didn’t like sitting in the place that had belonged to Erin’s ex-husband, but the small table only had four places, and that was Evan’s regular spot.

  Taylor stomped into the kitchen, gave him the evil eye, and slumped onto her chair. She crossed her arms and stared at her cup. “I hate milk.”

  Evan lifted one eyebrow. “Since when?”

  Taylor rolled her eyes. “Since like forever.”

  He resisted responding. It would only make things worse. For as long as he could remember, Taylor had loved milk. Everything about her was changing. The sweet, happy girl he’d played board games with had morphed into a snobbish teenager with a bad attitude.

  He grabbed her cup and swapped it with his.

  “Hey!” Taylor scowled.

  “Hey what? You said you hated milk, so I graciously traded with you.”

  The teen looked as if she wanted to argue, but he had her, and she knew it. Erin sat down and made eye contact with him, letting him know not to encourage Taylor. He crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m only trying to keep her happy.”

  Looking tired, Erin bowed her head. “Just pray. Please.”

  With dumplings awaiting, he made short work of the prayer and picked up his spoon. “Mmm-mmm. Delicious as always.”

  “It’s a bribe,” Taylor spouted then filled her mouth.

  Evan didn’t want to examine what she meant and quickly devoured his meal. With his stomach warm and nearly full, he leaned one arm over the back of his chair. “Too bad Jamie got sick with summer just starting. Guess that means he won’t be going on that wagon train trip with you.”

  Erin set her spoon down and stared at him.

  Uh-oh. He knew that look. “I can’t watch him. You know I have to finish that video game by mid-August, plus, what do I know about caring for a sick kid?”

  Taylor snorted, and Erin’s mouth twisted in a wry grimace. He looked from mother to daughter. What had he missed?

  “You’re not getting off that easy.” Taylor grabbed the glass of milk and gave him back his water.

  “I thought you hated that.”

  Taylor shrugged. “It goes good with this meal.”

  Erin stood and collected the bowls, took them to the sink, and filled them with water. She pulled the pie from the fridge and set it on the counter. All manner of thoughts raced through his mind. Could he watch Jamie and still do his work? Erin lifted a fat golden triangle topped with white meringue, and his mouth watered.

  His sister didn’t have an Internet hookup. After dealing with her husband’s pornography problem, she refused to have online service, even though Taylor constantly complained that it made doing her schoolwork more difficult. Maybe if Jamie wasn’t hurling all the time, he could stay at Evan’s house. He scratched his neck. Did kids hurl when they had the chicken pox?

  His sister set a heaping slice of butterscotch pie in front of him, and he picked up his fork. His mother’s recipe was the best he’d ever eaten. He closed his eyes and let the sweet caramel flavor tease his senses. Maybe if he agreed to watch his nephew, she’d send the rest of the pie home with him. He didn’t mind eating pie for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

  Erin cleared her throat and glanced at Taylor. Evan realized that neither had taken a bite of her dessert.

  “Just tell him, Mom, and get it over with.” Taylor sighed and rolled her eyes again. “This really stinks.”

  Erin heaved a sigh. “I need to ask a big favor of you.”

  Here it comes. “Well. . .shoot.”

  “Since Jamie is sick, we can’t go with Taylor on the wagon train trip we’ve planned for all year. Jamie is heartbroken. I want to know if you’ll go with Taylor.” She turned her fork facedown and then faceup, over and over, but didn’t look at him.

  Evan let the words process in his mind for a minute. She wasn’t asking him to watch Jamie—and he’d nearly had that all worked out in his head. She wanted him to leave Laramie and drive out west toward the Tetons—out in the sticks.

  Nobody said a word. They all knew it took him time to process a decision like this. Taylor wolfed down her pie, but Erin didn’t touch hers. Evan felt his eyes widen. She was asking him to go on a two-week wagon ride in the wilds of Wyoming. Him, a bona fide geek, who hated bugs, snakes—nature—and had h
ardly traveled anywhere. “You can’t be serious.”

  “See?” Taylor curled her lip at him. “I told you he wouldn’t do it. He’s such a nerd.”

  “Taylor. That’s no way to talk about your uncle, especially after all he’s done for us.”

  “Well, it’s the truth.” She flung down her fork and stood. “Just cancel the whole trip. I didn’t want to go anyway.”

  Numb to her insult because it was the truth, Evan watched his niece stomp out of the room.

  “She doesn’t mean that.” Erin sighed and pushed her uneaten pie toward the center of the table. “You know how her American history class at school worked the whole year to raise money for this trip, and she can’t go without an adult escort. I wouldn’t ask you to go, but Taylor has had her heart set on this for so long. It’s the only thing I’ve seen her excited about since Clint left. I can’t go because I need to be here to care for Jamie.”

  “I could keep Jamie.” How did he go from No way am I watching Jamie to acquiescing? It was the lesser evil, that’s how.

  “You wouldn’t know what to do to make him comfortable. He’d be complaining and bugging you all the time to play video games and keeping you from your work.”

  Evan leaned forward, elbows on the table. “And how will I work if I go into the high country? They probably don’t even have Internet at this place—what’s it called?”

  “Moose Valley Ranch, and I’m sure they do since they have a Web site with an e-mail link. I know it’s a lot to ask, but it’s only two weeks. It would do you good to get outside and get some sun.”

  “So it’s about me now?” Evan stood and took his plate and cup to the sink. “Besides, I get sun every morning when I go jogging.”

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to lay a guilt trip on you, but this trip wasn’t cheap. You know the jillions of fund-raisers Taylor did. You contributed to all of them, and I’ve saved for a year because Taylor wanted to go so badly.”

  “Can’t you get a refund?”

  “Maybe. I don’t know.” Erin threw up her hands and sighed. “I don’t want Taylor to be disappointed. She’s had so few things to smile about lately. Besides”—Erin looked to the left and right then leaned forward, her expression pleading—“I need a break from her,” she whispered then looked at the ground. “I know that sounds horrible, but it’s true.”