by Deb Kastner
“I beg your pardon?” Dixie blundered, stunned by his rudeness and the blatant animosity on the expressions of the stable hands. The group’s unofficial leader pronounced the word woman as if it were spoiled food.
“You heard me.” The young man spat on the ground by her feet, and it took every bit of her will not to react.
She rankled inside, prickling from head to toe, but other than making a conscious effort to pull herself to her full height, she didn’t allow her emotions to show.
She might be hurt and angry at their hostility toward her, but she’d die before she’d show it. She had been caught off guard, expecting the stable hands to show the same friendly attitude as the carpenters.
Mentally retreating a few steps, she looked the group over. Every one of them looked uncomfortable, and the leader downright hostile.
They were testing her, she realized, like a toddler tested his mother’s limits. She definitely wasn’t expecting a brash confrontation after experiencing the easy nature of the construction crew, and she struggled to adjust to this new curve thrown at her.
Maybe part of her training should have included working with a youth group, she thought, however belated the realization. She should have known most of her staff would be youngsters.
She knew if she backed down now, the fight would be over. She had to confront this hostility head-on, nip it in the bud so it didn’t grow and spread.
“Am I correct in assuming that when Mr. Wheeler hired you on, it was with the understanding that you work for me?” she asked bluntly.
“We answer to Wheeler,” the belligerent ring-leader retorted, drawling his words.
“You’ll answer to me,” she snapped back, unable to contain the sting of rejection a moment longer. She’d felt it too many times in the past to put up with it now, especially from a gaggle of adolescent boys.
She pinned each of them with a glare in turn, especially the straw-haired boy. “Them’s the rules, boys. If you don’t like it, feel free to walk. But if you’re going to quit, do it now. I don’t expect to hear about this again. Understood?”
She whirled in place, her form-fitting boots stirring a cloud of dust around her feet. She had to get out of there, and fast, before she flew off the handle and told the boys what she really thought of their adolescent behavior.
She sent up a frantic prayer for help to contain the fury pounding through her, the nearly overwhelming need to vocalize her opinion of their prehistoric, chauvinistic attitudes.
She wanted them to know they were pushing her personal buttons—and that she wasn’t about to put up with it.
What she really wanted was to fire the whole lot of them, right here and now.
The only thing keeping her from doing that very thing was the knowledge Erik handpicked each man for the stable, and their individual abilities with horses. Each of these men excelled in their skills. They must, if Erik chose them.
He must believe they’d be able to handle the guests of a Christian retreat, even if she disagreed at the moment. The least she could do was consult him first, before firing the whole lot of them and forcing Erik back to square one.
She might be making a lion’s share of mistakes, but Dixie Sullivan never made the same mistake twice.
She’d accused Erik of trying to run her off when he’d brought her the big grizzly of a carpentry foreman, but she knew better now. She wouldn’t throw the stable hands’ attitudes in his face.
In fact, she wasn’t certain she would mention the incident to him at all. Wasn’t she the one insisting he didn’t help her out of every jam? She’d have to figure out an answer to this dilemma on her own.
Erik had his reasons for what he did and the men he hired, though he rarely spoke about them, or about anything else, for that matter. He’d given her no reason to distrust him up to this point, and she believed he’d do what he thought best for her—for the retreat, she mentally amended.
For some reason, he’d hired these particular boys to run the stable, although at the moment, she couldn’t imagine why.
Their crude, repellent behavior worried her. If they were this rude to her, how could she ever hope they’d lead pleasant trail rides for her guests, those who came to relax and find God here? Didn’t they understand they were working for a Christian retreat center?
Evidently not. Or else they just didn’t care. She’d have to figure out what to do, and soon.
As she stomped away, she overheard the boys taking turns letting out a string of mockery. She froze, their scornful words ringing in her ears. She clenched her fists to keep from turning around and letting them have it with all the fury of a hurricane.
She’d have a talk with them, all right.
But not right now. Not here, on their turf, in their time. She was sharp enough to realize they had her at a disadvantage here, catching her off guard as they had.
She needed time to think. She had to be in control of the situation—and her emotions—if she was ever going to convince them to cooperate, and right now she knew she’d do little more than yell and throw insults back at them. Which would just prove their point—that she was an irrational, emotional female incapable of running this retreat.
And she needed time to pray about it.
Apprehension and uncertainty washed over her, emotions that had become more and more familiar to her as the days passed.
Maybe the stable hands were right. Maybe she couldn’t do it alone. Hadn’t Erik said the very same thing?
Frowning, she blew out a breath and continued walking toward the safety and privacy of her truck. Maybe the boys were just testing her. If that were so, she’d pass the test and win their trust.
If not, they’d be the ones to go, not her.
Wild animals weren’t going to scare her away from doing the Lord’s work here in South Dakota, and neither was a pack of feral stable hands.
Come what may, she was determined to make this retreat center a reality.
Erik stepped farther into the shadow of the stable as Dixie walked by. She looked ready to spontaneously combust, and with good reason.
He’d been standing in the shadows since the beginning of the confrontation, hearing and seeing everything that transpired between Dixie and the stable hands.
Admiration for Dixie’s courage raged with fury for the boys’ brutal treatment of her. He’d been genuinely surprised when she stood up to the ignorant, ill-mannered adolescents—and not only stood up to them, but talked them down to size.
Dixie Sullivan might be short of stature, but she was in no way short of spirit.
He wondered, and not for the first time since he’d met her, about the reserve she drew on, the mysterious way she found strength beyond her measure.
Naturally she attributed it to God.
God doing the real work here. God leading the way through every path, both rough and smooth. God infusing her with the strength and courage to continue, when any sane person would quit and go home.
But to Erik, her words were nothing more than a mouthful of gibberish, completely useless in the real world. Dixie used God as a crutch because she didn’t have enough confidence in her own ability. She didn’t see the many things she accomplished all on her own.
Did she think just any woman could wander off in the wilderness on her own with dreams as big as castles, and actually have any hope of making those dreams a reality?
Most people wouldn’t even dare to dream.
And where reality was concerned, Dixie herself was doing most of the work. God wasn’t giving her any breaks, either, as far as Erik was concerned.
If anything, He was pitching her one challenge after another. Nothing Dixie attempted came as easily as it could. Or should.
Not if God, this personal God full of love and mercy, this God who supposedly communed one-on-one with His subjects—really wanted to help. It sure wasn’t for lack of trying on Dixie’s part.
He didn’t understand Christians’ faith, though he respected them, since
his mother had been one of the faithful. But she had died young. His father withdrew, leaving Erik and his brothers virtual orphans.
His father. The poster child of hypocrites. He’d never believed, but then, when he died, he left his ranch, the only thing he hadn’t neglected, to Erik’s mother’s church.
It was Erik’s birthright. He’d worked right along with his father. Everyone expected the ranch to be his one day.
Instead, he’d been left with nothing.
He pounded his fist into the corner post on the stable wall. God wasn’t there to help then. Why should He be here now?
God might not be here to help Dixie out with her problems, but Erik was, and he was of a mind to help her himself. He could—would—do something about those stupid, ignorant fools. They had a lot to learn about how to treat a lady.
Especially a lady boss.
He adjusted his hat low over his eyes and stepped out of the shadows, marching decisively toward the stable boys with a frown on his face. He had a few choice words for each of them, and each word was going to hurt like the dickens.
But they were going to hear him out until he was sure they got the message. Loud and clear.
The only reason he hadn’t intervened when they challenged Dixie was that he didn’t want to undermine her authority, not to mention her confidence in herself, by taking over. He recognized her volatility, and how threatened she was when he tried to help her, however well-intentioned his efforts.
But the men needed to understand who held the reins in this particular operation.
Dixie Sullivan.
And now that Dixie wasn’t around, he was going to make good and sure the stable hands weren’t laboring under any misconceptions.
“Ellis,” he barked at the belligerent cowboy. “You and the rest of the men, front and center. Now.”
He leaned both elbows against the rough-hewn wood of the newly fashioned corral fence and waited, knowing the men would comply.
As he expected, as unjust as it was, the stable hands immediately left the tasks they’d been attending after their confrontation with Dixie and gathered around him, their expressions intent and respectful.
Erik’s fists begged to speak louder than his voice, but he clenched and unclenched his hands until the itch to do physical harm passed. He wasn’t going to roughhouse them unless necessary, but he wouldn’t hesitate if they balked against what he had to say. He’d dealt with stubborn calves before.
If the boys thought they could treat Dixie like some kind of department store mannequin, and then turn around and muster up to Erik like nothing was wrong, just because he was a man, they had another thing coming.
Loud and clear.
“I understand you men gave Miss Sullivan a hard time.”
A scowl of annoyance creased Ellis’s face. “What’d she do, go crying to you, boss?” He barked a laugh and chucked Erik on the arm. “Just like a woman to go all to pieces, ain’t it?”
The other boys snickered, until Erik stopped them short with a single look. They sobered immediately, looking contrite and uncomfortable, except for Ellis, who looked as if he were ready for a fight.
“Let’s get one thing straight,” Erik ground out, eyeing each man in turn, and at last resting and holding his gaze on Ellis. “Miss Sullivan is your employer. And she’s also a lady. You’ll treat her with due respect as both—your boss lady.”
The boys nodded, wide-eyed with apprehension.
All except Ellis, who grunted skeptically. “I don’t take no orders from—”
“That means,” Erik interrupted, not allowing the younger man to finish, “you will remove your hat in her presence, speak to her quietly and with respect, and you will do exactly what she tells you to do. Without complaining. Is that clear?”
Again, four of the boys nodded.
“Ellis?” he challenged, his pulse pounding in his ears. If the young man was itching for a fight, he was going to get more than he bargained for.
The young man shrugged and glared over Erik’s shoulder, murmuring something incomprehensible under his breath.
“And if I ever hear foul language coming from any of you—at any time, on- or off-duty—you’ll be history. This is a Christian retreat. Respect that fact or pack your bags and git.”
He met each man’s eyes one last time, then turned away. The urge to hit something still pulsed through him, barely restrained by the strength of his will.
He’d scarcely gone two steps when Ellis began complaining loudly to the other cowboys about the unfair working conditions they were under.
Erik bristled but walked away, allowing the young man to vent to his own satisfaction. The battle wasn’t over, not by a long shot.
Ellis was a troublemaker, and he knew beyond a doubt there would be a one-on-one confrontation between him and the boy before long.
If Ellis didn’t force it, Erik would.
But however it happened, he wanted to keep Dixie out of the middle of it. She wouldn’t stand down from today’s challenge, and she’d be furious if she knew Erik had reinforced her battlements without her knowledge.
He still wasn’t sure why, but he already knew Dixie’s pet peeves. Funny. He hadn’t known her that long, but he already felt he knew her better than anyone he’d known in a good, long time. Maybe ever.
And maybe one day he would learn why she was so desperate to prove her independence.
She’d step right up to the plate if she had the opportunity, and fight back with all she was worth.
Which meant he had to make sure she didn’t get that opportunity.
He’d have to be extra watchful and on his guard, to make sure nothing happened between Dixie and Ellis before he got to the belligerent young man first.
He didn’t want to examine the fierce need to protect Dixie. She was an obligation and nothing more. Ellis was his responsibility, since he’d brought the loud-mouthed boy on board as a stable hand.
Ellis was his responsibility and his problem.
He probably ought to have fired him right off, but he was afraid the other boys would walk, as well, out of loyalty to Ellis, which would leave him in the lurch.
There wasn’t time to find another crew and get the needed work done before the first guests arrived in a little over two months. He needed every second, and every man, to finish this project on time.
But Ellis was going to be a detriment to the work by staying on, and there was no getting around it. The boy was an uncouth, loudmouthed brat. With his childish attitude, he ought to be in the nursery, not running horses.
He’d come with references, but obviously from people who didn’t care what the young man said or did as long as he got his work done.
And until Dixie entered the picture, Ellis had been working hard. Now Erik doubted he’d get a good day’s work from the boy.
And he didn’t even want to think about Dixie and Ellis in a showdown. His insides stung as if a hive of killer bees had been let loose in his stomach.
Ellis was just stupid enough to push Dixie beyond her limit. She was a strong woman, but Erik didn’t want to be there when she really exploded. Erik had a feeling a tornado would be safer to watch.
A showdown between Dixie and Ellis wasn’t a possibility he cared to consider. But it wasn’t going to happen. Not if he was here to stop it.
And he was.
Chapter Eight
After what felt to Dixie like a lifetime, but was in reality only six weeks from the day she stepped onto South Dakota soil, acquiring a horse of her own was finally, wonderfully, joyfully next on her list.
She’d been up to her ears in construction and renovation, overseeing a stable of horses for the ministry, hiring a kitchen and housekeeping staff, moving into her own small studio in the main lodge and avoiding the stable hands like the plague.
She was physically and emotionally exhausted from the whole ordeal, as much from all the blessings God showered her with as much as from the challenges she continued to encounter.
Erik suggested a day off, and she’d finally concurred. She hadn’t had a break since she’d started, other than the occasional peach-scented bubble bath in her new studio.
So this sunshine-filled Saturday morning, she’d called some phone numbers in the newspaper and set up appointments to see if she could find her horse.
She wasn’t a complete novice where horses were concerned, she thought with pride. That is to say, she’d ridden a horse a few times as a kid, and had been told even then that she was a natural horse-woman.
And she’d read every How to Take Care of a Horse of Your Own book the Denver Public Library possessed, up to and including the children’s books.
She was relatively certain she could groom, tack and mount her horse. It couldn’t possibly be any worse than the rivers she’d forged thus far in her pioneer journey.
All she needed was the horse to prove it.
Her heart raced with anticipation as she drove off the compound. She was especially looking forward to her first stop, a man named Needleson. He was her nearest neighbor with the exception of Erik. Needleson owned a large spread that bordered her own on two sides. From what she knew of him, his was one of, if not the most prosperous ranches in the area.
It would be good to finally meet her neighbors. Solitude was wonderful, up to a point, but she looked forward to getting to know others in Custer, most especially those who lived near her retreat. She’d just been too busy lately to seek out fellowship, other than on Sundays in a small Custer church.
Did John Needleson have a wife and kids? Would they be Christians?
She hoped so. Maybe they could be friends, get together for a cookout and perhaps even have a Bible study. She could offer the services of her retreat, once it was up and running, if they wanted a break from ranching.
She only realized how far distant her daydreams had taken her when she noted the large Bar N sign that indicated the entrance to the Needleson ranch. Laughing merrily at herself, she turned onto the Bar N road, noting it had the same bumpy washboard consistency as her own dirt road.
