Peace in the Valley
Page 1
Praise for
The Double S Ranch Series
“Herne’s delightfully charming writing voice shines in her latest novel…meaningful themes of reconciliation, atonement, and forgiveness are treated with grace.”
—ROMANTIC TIMES, Back in the Saddle review
“A dramatic ranch setting, rich characterization, and a beautiful love story make this a book to savor. Ruth Logan Herne is my new favorite author!”
—KAREN WHITE, New York Times best-selling author
“Heart and hope combine in Ruth Logan Herne’s sweet tale of old wounds and ties that bind. Where faith and forgiveness are present, old scars can be healed and new love can bloom. Sometimes, you really can go home again.”
—LISA WINGATE, national best-selling author of The Story Keeper and The Sea Keeper’s Daughters
“I have been so eagerly awaiting Home on the Range by Ruth Logan Herne, and it’s even better than I’d hoped. The whole delightful story was full of fun twists and poignant turns.”
—MARY CONNEALY, author of No Way Up
“The talented Ruth Logan Herne has created a fresh twist on the modern day cowboy romance. I loved it!”
—LINDA GOODNIGHT, best-selling, award-winning author of The Memory House and The Rain Sparrow
“As always, Ruth Logan Herne shoots straight to the heart with Back in the Saddle…the heart of the story and the reader. This is one cowboy love story you’ll want to enjoy to the very last page.”
—DEBRA CLOPTON, author of Kissed by a Cowboy
BOOKS BY RUTH LOGAN HERNE
Running on Empty
Try, Try Again
Safely Home
Refuge of the Heart
More Than a Promise
The First Gift
Winter’s End
Waiting Out the Storm
Made to Order Family
Double S Ranch Series
Back in the Saddle
Home on the Range
Men of Allegany County Series
Reunited Hearts
Small-Town Hearts
Mended Hearts
Yuletide Hearts
A Family to Cherish
His Mistletoe Family
Kirkwood Lake Series
The Lawman’s Second Chance
Falling for the Lawman
The Lawman’s Holiday Wish
Loving the Lawman
Her Holiday Family
Healing the Lawman’s Heart
Grace Haven Series
An Unexpected Groom
Her Unexpected Family
Their Surprise Daddy
Big Sky Centennial
His Montana Sweetheart
PEACE IN THE VALLEY
Scripture quotations or paraphrases are taken from the following versions: King James Version®. The Holy Bible, New International Version®, NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by Biblica Inc.® Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide. New American Standard Bible®. Copyright © 1960, 1962, 1963, 1968, 1971, 1972, 1973, 1975, 1977, 1995 by the Lockman Foundation. Used by permission. (www.Lockman.org). New King James Version®. Copyright © 1982 by Thomas Nelson Inc. Used by permission. All rights reserved.
The characters and events in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to actual persons or events is coincidental.
Mass Market ISBN 9781601427809
Ebook ISBN 9781601427816
Copyright © 2017 by Ruth Logan Herne
Cover design and photography by Kelly L. Howard
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying and recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Published in the United States by Multnomah, an imprint of the Crown Publishing Group, a division of Penguin Random House LLC, New York.
MULTNOMAH® and its mountain colophon are registered trademarks of Penguin Random House LLC.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Herne, Ruth Logan, author.
Title: Peace in the valley : a novel / Ruth Logan Herne.
Description: Colorado Springs, Colorado : Multnomah, 2017. | Series: Double S Ranch ; 3
Identifiers: LCCN 2017001546 (print) | LCCN 2017001756 (ebook) | ISBN 9781601427809 (paperback) | ISBN 9781601427816 (electronic)
Subjects: | BISAC: FICTION / Contemporary Women. | FICTION / Christian / Romance. | FICTION / Christian / Western. | GSAFD: Christian fiction. | Western stories. | Love stories.
Classification: LCC PS3608.E76875 P43 2017 (print) | LCC PS3608.E76875 (ebook) | DDC 813/.6—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2017001546
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Contents
Cover
Books by Ruth Logan Herne
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Epilogue
From Lucy’s Kitchen
To Zach: Son #3
May you always find your own peace in the valley, may you always feel the warmth of God’s love giving you strength and faith as it shines from above, and may you be blessed with all the joys a roller-coaster life allows. All of your days.
With love, Mom
For once in his life, Trey Walker Stafford had aced his two older brothers. The fact that he had to risk his life and offer up a chunk of his liver to claim the title made it a dubious honor.
The irony wasn’t lost on Trey as he drove his packed SUV west on I-90 through Central Washington. The thought that of Sam Stafford’s three sons, it was the orphaned-nephew-turned-adopted son whose DNA provided the best possible outcome for his adoptive father fit today’s reality TV scenarios too well.
But then their lives up to this point had seemed like a reality television show, so why change now?
The fingers of his left hand thrummed a senseless beat on the leather steering wheel. He drove the roads he’d known for so long, intent on getting back to the ranch and the man who’d rescued him from squalor twenty-five years before. He meant to do whatever he could to help his father. Not because he harbored some kind of death wish. Surgery, painful recovery, and possible death weren’t on his agenda. His agent had made that clear multiple times during the past week, and by every possible available media.
“You’d risk everything you’ve earned, everything you have, your home.” Ed Boddy ticked off his fingers as he listed Trey’s potential downfall. “That ranch you love, tucked in the hills of Northern Tennessee, your music, your life. And all to help the man who threw you out of the house because you loved music? You’re a better man than I am, Trey. That’s for sure.”
He wasn’t better. He knew that. He was guilt ridden and fairly vacant inside, like one of those black holes yawning wide in an endless universe. Solid. Dense. Yet empty. And he’d felt that way for as long as he could remember.
Sam hadn’t thrown him out because he loved music. He’d cast him aside because Sam had watched the downside of fame claim the life of
his younger sister and her husband. He’d seen what life in the spotlight could do. Sam knew it wasn’t pretty. But Trey had shrugged off his father’s concerns. Growing up knowing the worst of the music industry firsthand had left him with a powerful need to prove it could be done the right way. Clean. Open. Honest. The crazy rich part wasn’t something he’d planned. It just kind of happened along the way.
“Poor little boy.”
The voice. Her voice, the voice of his mother, Sandra Lee Stafford. Beloved on her early country music recordings, that slow-churned alto turned utterly scathing when it came to her little boy.
She’d stood over him, smelling bad and looking hateful, and that’s all Trey envisioned anytime someone mentioned his mother. They said a three-year-old doesn’t have the capacity to remember actual events, that they might have snatches of recall, here and there. Whoever they were, they were plumb stupid, because Trey remembered enough. Too much.
“There ain’t no one in this world ’bout to feel sorry for you, Trey-Trey. Least of all, me.”
He must have been crying. He couldn’t remember the tears, but he remembered the wetness on his face.
And then she was gone, and his father was gone, and the next thing he knew, Sam Stafford strode into that police station. Larger than life, Sam had scooped up Trey and taken him home.
And so it began, and here’s where it might end: Trey, donating part of his liver to keep Sam Stafford alive. A good Christian man would go forward boldly, embracing the opportunity. Trey marked that up as another out-and-out failure because he was Christian to a fault on most things…
But not this.
His internal guilt spiked like an overwound E string, but Trey spent so much of his life feeling guilty that today shouldn’t be any different. But this change—this summer —would be life and death. And that, right there, made a difference.
He exited the highway and took the right-hand turn leading up the hill, away from Gray’s Glen, the town he grew up in. Broad fields stretched along either side, filled with lush grass and gray-green sagebrush. The sagebrush grew thicker as the meadows climbed. Dark red cattle dotted the upper pastures like a generous sprinkling of cayenne pepper on steamed broccoli.
He was hungry.
Tired.
Nervous?
Yes.
The Ellensburg deejay segued into Trey’s newest single in a way that made him cringe. “Ya wanna talk a Cinderella cowboy story? We’ve got it right here, as Central Washington’s own Trey Walker tugs the heartstrings while he rockets up the charts again with ‘You Only Live Once.’ ”
Trey shut the radio off.
He had no desire to hear himself croon sage words of advice to trusting fans. They thought he understood their plight.
He didn’t.
They sensed he had a heart of gold.
Wrong again.
They believed in him, in his music, his calling, his faith.
How he wished he could believe in himself. He—
The aged, dark blue van came out of nowhere. Trey hit the brakes too late.
The van shot into the intersection.
Trey cut the wheel and prayed. The SUV squealed in protest.
The van turned too, away from him, in a desperate move to avoid the crash. The maneuver worked, but then the van raced up the embankment and tipped up and over before landing on its side in the small creek running into the glen.
Trey shoved the SUV into park and jumped out. He raced across the two-lane country road, jumped onto the hill, and hit 911 on his phone at the same time. He shouted quick facts to the dispatcher as he scaled the small but steep incline. “We’ve got a van overturned into Chudney’s Creek north of the I-90 turnoff on Buell Road, just past the intersection of East Chelan.”
He didn’t wait for a response as he crested the creek bank. He leaped into the water and yanked himself up onto the side front of the tipped van. Wet fingers made the grip difficult, but once he gained a leg up, he was able to pull himself the rest of the way. He reached down to jerk open the van door.
It wouldn’t budge.
The driver—a woman—was facing away from him.
She didn’t move. Didn’t wiggle. Didn’t—
His heart stopped. He pounded on the door, not knowing what else to do, then realized he might be able to get in through the back hatch. He jumped down and rushed through the knee-deep water, then bent and grabbed the latch on the back hatch.
It opened. He breathed out, glad to have access to the van and the driver.
His relief was short lived. The entire back of the van was filled with floral debris. Upended plants, baskets, planters, and trays of seedlings blocked his way. Utter destruction filled the banged-up van from top to bottom.
“Noooo.” The single drawn-out word came from the front of the van, which meant the driver was alive. Knowing that gave his heart reason to keep on beating.
He looked up.
If despair had a face, it was the one he saw right now as the driver spotted the complete wreckage. “Unlock your door,” he ordered, then slogged back through the water. He climbed up again and braced himself. The van’s angle made opening the door tough. Its weight worked against him, but instinct dictated he needed to get her out of the van. And what if there was a passenger?
He pushed down on his heels and tugged the door upright. It blocked his view, and he didn’t have the best footing, but he hung on for dear life. “Can you climb out? I’m afraid to let go of the door to help you; it might fall and hit you.”
“I can climb.”
Trey prayed.
He doubted the effectiveness, because while he believed in God, he was pretty sure God had taken a detour somewhere north of his Tennessee ranch. But then, why wouldn’t he?
He and God knew the truth. Trey was here seeking absolution. Seeking…something. Something to fill the void left by aching guilt. He didn’t know what he was looking for, exactly. He just knew he’d been searching for what seemed like a long, long time.
Nothing yet.
Trey wasn’t stupid. The prospects of finding peace in the broad, lush green valley of Central Washington were slim to none. He wasn’t being pessimistic. It’s just how things rolled these days.
A hand appeared not far from his feet. Then another hand came through the opening, followed by a mass of long gold-and-brown hair. The loose hair tumbled over the side of the van. She turned his way and the hair was now accompanied by a face.
An absolutely beautiful, very angry face.
Great.
He didn’t sigh and point out the obvious as sirens approached them from the town below. She should have stopped at the intersection. He had the right-of-way.
A light blue T-shirt emerged, followed by a green-and-blue skirt decked out in swirls. The driver didn’t spare him another look. She hopped off the side of the van into the water.
Her skirt billowed, then acted like a wick, drawing muddy creek water up like a high-priced paper towel. The wet skirt plastered itself to her legs. She growled, wrenched the skirt up with both hands, and strode through the water before stopping at the open back hatch.
He almost couldn’t bear to watch, except he couldn’t turn away. He’d seen the wreckage inside the van. It was a scene of utter destruction with months of someone’s hard work destroyed.
Hers?
Maybe.
Tears streamed down her cheeks as she surveyed the mess. No sobs, no whining, no yelling, just a steady flow of silent outpouring heartbreak.
The urge to help overcame him, but how?
Maybe she was in shock.
That cheered him, because if she was, then the accident hadn’t just ruined her life. Shock, at least, was medically treatable.
There were no special warming blankets or mugs of coffee to heal heartbreak. He knew that.
He let the door ease shut, then jumped into the water, as his future sister-in-law, Angelina, rolled to a stop in her new deputy’s car. “Trey?” She looked astounded
to see him in the creek, but then her eyes widened and her expression changed to one of even deeper concern. “Lucy? Oh my gosh, Lucy, are you all right?” An ambulance pulled up behind Angelina’s car.
Angelina didn’t waste any more time on Trey. She hurried to the creek bank and held out her hand to the woman. “Come on, honey, come out of there. What on earth happened?”
The woman—Lucy—took Angelina’s hand and let her tug her toward the first dry ledge of the bank before she pointed his way. “He blew through the stop sign in typical Stafford fashion. Fast and furious, with no regard for rules or anyone else.”
“Oh, honey.” Angelina hugged her, then turned to Trey. “You ran a stop sign, Trey?”
“There is no stop sign.” Trey aimed a look of disbelief at the woman, then his future sister-in-law, before he motioned left. “As you can see—” He stopped and stared hard, real hard, when he saw the universal octagon shape. “No.” He crossed the road as the medics pulled out a gurney. “This wasn’t here ten minutes ago. I swear it wasn’t!” He moved down the road, turned, then sighed.
Angelina shook her head. “I come this way all the time and I never noticed how the new growth covered that much of the sign. Probably because I know it’s there.”
“It never used to be.” Trey shifted his attention from the sign to her, then to Lucy. “I never saw it, and when I used to live here, there was no stop sign on Buell Road.”
“They changed it up when they put in the Chelan Crossing subdivision a bunch of years back,” the second medic explained as he walked across the road and stuck out his hand. “Brian Mulcahy, I was in school with Colt.” He peered closely, checking Trey out while his partner did the same with the van driver. “You okay? Did you get hurt? Shaken up?”