Rancher For The Holidays (Love Inspired)

by Myra Johnson

  Marley had just bitten into her burrito and had to chew and swallow before she replied. “Yes, of course it was. What are you getting at, Ben?”

  Jaw clenched, he stared into his coffee cup. “What I’m trying to say is, as much as I can see the value in what your team is doing here, there’s got to be something more we can do, something that could give these people a real shot at a better life.”

  Marley took another bite and then laid her burrito on her plate. Shifting sideways, she tilted her head. “You’ve worked on one fund-raiser and spent two whole days here. Do you honestly think you can come up with answers nobody else has thought of?”

  Ben inhaled a shallow breath. “But I have an idea. Do you want to hear it or not?”

  “I’m listening.”

  By now, the other two college women had returned to their RV, leaving Ben and Marley alone under the awning. Ben hoped the guys would stay inside awhile longer and give them some privacy. “It occurred to me that as good as the women in this town cook—the tamales we had Saturday, these melt-in-your-mouth tortillas—they could start their own catering business.”

  Marley’s jaw dropped. “Catering? Are you serious? How many times do I have to tell you the nearest town of any size is fifty miles away?”

  “Yeah, I get it. We’d have some logistics to work out—”

  “Ben. Get real.” Marley shoved up from her chair. “You’re talking cold storage, transportation, advertising—what you’re suggesting is a whole lot more complicated than selling arts and crafts on consignment.”

  “Yes, but it’s not impossible.” Ben set his cup on the ground, then rose and spread his hands. “With all the churches and other groups already supporting outreach to the town, I bet you wouldn’t have any problem getting donations and volunteers.”

  “Even if we could—and that’s a big if—don’t forget, there’s no internet or cell service here. Not to mention there must be all kinds of legal hurdles related to obtaining a food license.” With a quick glance around, Marley lowered her voice. “I told you, Ben, it’s very likely several of the townspeople aren’t even US citizens. You start involving government regulations and you could cause real problems.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t think—”

  “No, you didn’t.” Marley squeezed her eyes shut, shoulders heaving. When she looked at Ben again, her expression had softened. “The interest you’ve taken in Candelaria means the world to me, even more that you cared enough to spend time coming up with the catering idea. It’s just not feasible under the circumstances.”

  Ben gave a reluctant nod. Seemed he couldn’t get things right even when he consciously tried.

  The screen door on the RV creaked open and Ernie tromped down the steps, followed by the two college men he’d been working with. “We’re heading over to finish painting the Gonzales house. Y’all got your marching orders for the day?”

  “The girls are sprucing up the playground this morning,” Marley said. She crossed to the door and handed her dishes up to Pastor Chris. “Then we’re doing more Christmas crafts this afternoon, plus some cleanup and setup for the fiesta tomorrow.”

  “Good.” Ernie opened a storage compartment under the RV. He hauled out a toolbox, painting supplies, pruning shears and a hoe, then passed the gardening tools to Marley. “Ben, you and your guys can help Chris’s team finish up the shed roof.”

  “Sure thing.” As Ben’s muscle-bound cohorts exited the RV, he steeled himself for another day of hard labor under the high-desert sun. But as he hefted the toolbox, Pastor Chris leaned out the door.

  “Don’t take off yet, Ben.” Chris handed down a set of keys and a yellow sheet of paper torn from a legal pad. “You’re the designated gofer today. I need you to take Ernie’s pickup to Presidio and pick up the supplies on this list. Directions to the hardware store are on the back.”

  Surprised and a little bit insulted, Ben scowled. Guess he knew his value to the team. He scanned the paper. Shingles, roofing nails, toilet seal, faucet washers. “Do I charge it or what?”

  “The church has an account,” Chris said. “All you have to do is sign for it.”

  “Better fill the gas tank, too.” Ernie handed Ben a wad of cash. “And why don’t you pick up six or eight frozen pizzas for tonight’s supper. There’s a supermarket a few blocks from the hardware store.”

  Ben stuffed the money into his jeans pocket and tried to keep his tone civil. “Anything else?”

  Ernie shot Chris a questioning glance. At Chris’s shrug, Ernie tipped his head toward Ben and narrowed one eye. “Just take good care of my baby. She doesn’t handle quite like your ’Stang.”

  “Gotcha.” Ben tried to look on the bright side as he marched to the pickup. He’d be sitting in a comfortable vehicle most of the morning instead of increasing his calluses on a shed roof. And Presidio might be big enough to have decent cell-phone service so he could check messages and email. He still held out hope that some of those résumés he’d sent out had generated some interview requests.

  Sure would be nice to feel competent at something again.

  Chapter Eleven

  Sipping a tall glass of iced tea, Marley stood in the shade of the RV awning and stared up the long, empty stretch of highway. It shimmered like a mirage under the noonday sun. Ben should have been back from Presidio by now. What was taking so long?

  She glanced over at Pastor Chris as he polished off a ham sandwich. “You could have sent one of the students, you know.”

  Chris dabbed his lips and then wadded up his napkin. “I figured he’d appreciate the break.”

  “This is a new experience for Ben. He’s trying hard.”

  “Yeah, I can see that.” Rising, Chris came to stand next to Marley. “I’m not sure he’s doing any of this for the right reasons, though. It’s like he’s trying to prove something. Not necessarily to us, but to himself.”

  Marley couldn’t argue. Thinking back to her earlier conversation with Ben, she laughed softly. “Do you know what he suggested to me this morning? A catering business, here in Candelaria.”

  “Catering? An interesting proposition, but...” Chris gave his head a disbelieving shake. “I hope you explained why it wouldn’t work.”

  “I tried.” Even so, she couldn’t help being touched by how much thought Ben had put into the idea. Beneath his big-city attitude and—yes—a recurring case of cynicism, the guy had a good heart.

  Over by the old school building, several children romped on the playground, their laughter burbling on the mild breeze. Remarkable how kids could entertain themselves for hours with nothing more high-tech than a swing set or a basketball. Marley couldn’t help wondering how different her life might have been if she’d grown up learning to appreciate the simpler things of life.

  Instead, she’d learned Daddy’s money could buy her anything. Or buy her out of whatever trouble she got herself into. The first time anyone ever told her she couldn’t have her own way was when Valerie Bishop, who later married Healy Ferguson, confronted her for shoplifting, and then testified against her in juvenile court. Accepting responsibility for her own actions was a hard lesson for the old Marsha Sanderson, and not one she learned right away. Thank God for Healy and Valerie, or Marley might never have found her way after her reckless driving almost cost Tina’s life.

  Pastor Chris interrupted her thoughts with a noisy sigh. “Guess it’s about time to get back to work.”

  “Yeah, I need to head over to the church.” Draining her iced tea glass, Marley crunched an ice chip. She started to duck into the RV to dispose of her glass, but as the pastor held the door for her, she stopped midstride and peered at him thoughtfully. “Do you think anyone ever does anything good for purely unselfish reasons?”

  His brow wrinkled. “I suppose not. But even when we have our own agenda, it doesn’t affect
God’s ability to bless our efforts.” A knowing smile stole across his lips. “Ben’s included.”

  Hers, too, Marley hoped. Perhaps someday she’d confide in the pastor about her need to atone for her messed-up past.

  After a quick cleanup of the lunch dishes, Marley strolled toward the glistening white church building. When she heard the rumble of tires on pavement, her heart rolled over in her chest and a relieved sigh rippled through her.

  Hoisting a couple of sacks and an insulated shopping bag, Ben climbed from the pickup. Marley waved and met him near the back of the RV. “I was getting worried. Everything go okay in town?”

  “Only got lost twice.” He grinned. “Better get these pizzas in the freezer. Then I want to show you something.”

  “If it has anything to do with toilet parts, I’ll pass.” Seeing the Tech girls directing several kids into the church building, Marley called to them that she’d be over in a few minutes. She followed Ben into the RV and leaned against the counter as he jammed pizzas into the tiny freezer. At least he seemed in a much better mood than when she’d shot down his catering idea. Maybe the drive to town actually helped.

  “Come sit down.” Ben motioned Marley to the table. She scooted into the booth and Ben slid in beside her. He laid a folded newspaper in front of her.

  “What’s this?”

  “While I was at the supermarket, I saw they had some big-city newspapers on the rack. Thought I’d see what’s been happening in the world the last couple of days, so I bought this El Paso paper.” Ben flipped to page six and grinned. “Look what I found staring me in the face.”

  The headline over a half-page article read Riders for Candelaria: Alpine Community Digs Deep to Support Struggling Border Town. Neil Ingram’s byline appeared below, along with several photos she hadn’t seen published before from the trail ride.

  A tingle of curiosity mixed with apprehension started deep in Marley’s abdomen. “El Paso? I didn’t realize we did any publicity that far away.”

  “We didn’t. The wire services must have picked up the story. And look, they credited you on a couple of the photos they ran. That ought to bring you more business.”

  Despite her misgivings, she couldn’t help imagining how this kind of positive publicity could help keep her in her studio.

  Then she glimpsed the photo in the lower left-hand corner. It featured her along with Pastor Chris and Ernie, and identified them as “the backbone of Spirit Outreach.” She’d tactfully asked Neil not to print this photo, but he must have forgotten when supplying the El Paso paper with images to go with the article. Marley could only imagine her father’s reaction if someone from her past happened upon the photo and recognized her as Marsha Sanderson.

  “Marley?” Ben cocked his head, brows slanted in a concerned look.

  “I, uh, wasn’t expecting this. It’s a little scary.”

  “But it’s good, right? Good for Candelaria and for you.”

  “I don’t know. Maybe.” She gripped the edge of the table and slid sideways, forcing Ben to let her out of the booth. “The kids are waiting. I need to get over to the church.”

  * * *

  Stunned by Marley’s baffling response to the newspaper piece, Ben almost chased her across the hard-packed ground to make her explain. He shook his head in confusion.

  Someone called his name. He glanced left to see Ernie headed his way, no doubt in a hurry to get his hands on the supplies from town. With a groan, Ben trudged back inside the RV and gathered up the hardware-store bags. He met Ernie under the awning. “Got everything on the list. The shingles are in the back of the pickup.” He fished a handful of bills and coins from his pocket. “Here’s your change for the gas and pizzas.”

  “Thanks, Ben.” Pocketing the money, Ernie peered into each bag, then gave a satisfied nod. “You want to run the roofing stuff over to Chris and the guys working on the shed? They could probably use a hand.” He chuckled. “Unless you’d rather help fix a toilet.”

  His mind still on Marley, Ben doubted “How about neither?” would be an acceptable answer. “I’m probably safer with a hammer than a wrench.”

  “Suit yourself.” Taking the plumbing supplies, Ernie jogged across the road.

  Returning to the pickup, Ben drove over to the house where Pastor Chris and his team worked on the livestock shed, and for the rest of the afternoon he learned all about beams and joists, tar paper and shingles. A young mother with a toddler on her hip watched from a creaking glider on the back porch, then later greeted two older children as they bounded over from the church.

  When the family disappeared inside the house, Ben felt a wave of sympathy for them. It had to be hard raising a family without their dad around. Marley had explained most of the husbands and fathers worked elsewhere, many on ranches on the Mexican side of the Rio Grande, and coming home for a visit could be difficult. With so few men in town, it was no wonder the women were grateful for help with the more labor-intensive chores.

  As Ben passed another shingle to Pastor Chris, he thought about his own father. True, things had gotten tense between them after Mom died and Paula entered the picture, but at least Dad had always been around when Ben and Aidan were growing up.

  Right now, Ben couldn’t help wishing his dad had done a better job of teaching him some handyman skills. Maybe when Ben got back to Houston, he’d offer to help with the kitchen remodel his father and Paula had been planning. It couldn’t hurt to extend the olive branch and let his dad know he was at least trying to move toward acceptance.

  He laughed to himself. Was this part of the attitude adjustment Aunt Jane had been praying for?

  “Ben. Ben!” Pastor Chris’s voice sliced through his thoughts, startling him. “Slide the box of roofing nails closer, will you?”

  “Sorry. My mind was wandering.”

  “No kidding.” Chris’s hammer rang out as he secured another shingle into place. Sitting back on his heels, he tugged off stained leather work gloves. “That should do it. I’m ready to call it a day.”

  Ben was more than ready. Sitting atop a black roof under the afternoon glare of the high-desert sun? Cheapest sauna ever. He wasted no time following Chris down the ladder, then helped gather up tools and leftover shingles. They tossed everything into the pickup bed, and with Chris and the Tech students riding on the tailgate, Ben drove the pickup back to the RV.

  Inside, Chris went to the fridge and tossed everyone an ice-cold sports drink. The Tech boys carried their drinks outside under the awning, and Chris slid into the booth across from Ben. He released a tired chuckle. “It could be worse. Try doing this in the middle of summer.”

  “It’s definitely the hardest work I’ve done in a long, long time.” Ben wrapped his hands around the drink bottle and let the coolness seep into his blistered palms.

  “I hope you’re not sorry you came.”

  Ben scraped his teeth across his lower lip. “It’s been an eye-opener, that’s for sure. But no, I’m not sorry. Every day I understand a little better how much this town means to Marley.”

  “Don’t be mad, but...she told me about the idea you suggested.”

  “The catering thing? Yeah, I see now how impractical it would be. I just hoped—” Ben massaged the bridge of his nose.

  Pastor Chris folded his arms along the edge of the table. “We all wish we could do more, but the situation is what it is, so we do the best we can.”

  Someone had moved the El Paso newspaper to the end of the table. Ben reached for it and opened it to the trail-ride article. “Look what I found in town this morning.”

  Chris’s smile widened as his gaze skimmed the page. “This is terrific, exactly the kind of coverage we need to bring more attention to what we’re doing here.”

  “Then maybe you can explain something to me.” Brow puckered, Ben described Marley’s reaction
to seeing the article. “I expected her to be as excited about it as you are, but then she just took off like it scared her.”

  Staring out the window, Pastor Chris sat in silence for a few moments. “There’s a lot I don’t understand about Marley. I had to accept a long time ago that she’ll tell me when she’s ready.”

  “You make her sound so mysterious.”

  “Isn’t every woman a bit of a mystery?” A twisted smile crept across the pastor’s lips. Then his eyes narrowed and he cocked his head. “You’re getting serious about Marley, aren’t you?”

  The truth Ben could barely admit to himself drilled a hole in his gut. He fixed his gaze on the lime-green liquid swirling at the bottom of the plastic bottle. “I’ve never met anyone like her.”

  “But...?”

  “But...as soon as I find a new job, I’ll be leaving Alpine. It isn’t fair to either one of us to let this grow into something more.” Why did it suddenly hurt so much to speak those words aloud?

  Using his thumbnail, Pastor Chris peeled away a torn corner of his drink label. “Who’s to say you won’t find work here? Maybe God brought you to Alpine for a reason.”

  Ben stiffened. “There are two things you should know about me, Pastor, if you haven’t figured them out already. Number one, as Marley is so fond of reminding me, I’m a city boy through and through. And number two...” He clenched his jaw and looked the pastor directly in the eye. “I’ve been mad at God for a while now, so I seriously doubt He cares about me one way or the other.”

  Pastor Chris laced his fingers together and sat forward. “I can name more than a few city boys who adapted just fine to small-town living. In fact, the ones I know have never been happier.”

  Ben had to look away.

  “As for God not caring about you,” the pastor went on, “you couldn’t be more wrong. Nothing—and I mean nothing—happens outside the Father’s knowledge or control. So when it seems like everything is going wrong, at least according to your agenda, it probably just means God has a different agenda. This is when a wise man quits resisting and starts trusting.”