The Rancher's Second Chance

by Davalynn Spencer

“Laura!” His lungs burned in protest as he took a deep breath. “Laura!”

  A faint call jerked his head to the left. He listened, called again. She answered from below.

  Standing at the edge, he saw her near the bottom, waving. She held the dog under one arm.

  “I could use a hand here, Lord,” he prayed. “Better yet, a foot.”

  No time to take the overgrown path that looped down to the bottom. He eased over the edge, leading with his prosthetic foot, giving his full weight to his right leg.

  Laura climbed straight up, clutching the dog. At a steeper section, she set the pup down and pulled it along by its collar as she scaled a granite outcropping.

  Let it go! he screamed inwardly, knowing the dog would run to safety on its own. He also knew she would never leave it.

  An explosion nearly rocked him off balance, and he squatted to look over his shoulder. Black smoke plumed above Pennington’s house. He turned back toward Laura. “Hurry!”

  She clambered up, reached for him, slipped and started again.

  He slid down a few feet, grabbed her hand and pulled. “Give me the dog and keep going.”

  She handed him the quivering pup and scrambled over the edge.

  “Go,” he urged, but she waited for him.

  He ran for the truck but Laura stopped.

  “Come with me,” he yelled.

  “I’m not leaving the kittens.” Terror and determination edged her voice as she opened her car’s passenger door.

  The fire roared above them, chewing into Pennington’s barn and outbuildings. A hot, churning wind rained burning debris.

  Eli set the puppy on his pickup seat and slammed the door. Then he bolted to Laura’s car where she hefted the carrier. He saw his letter on the dashboard and his heart squeezed.

  “Give them to me. I’ll put them in the back.”

  She circled to the driver’s side and opened the door. “I have to get my things in the trunk.”

  “There isn’t time.” He grabbed her arm and pulled her toward his truck. “Do you have gas cans in your carport?”

  She nodded, her eyes wide and wild.

  “If they blow, we might not make it off the hill. You can’t outrun fire.”

  He dropped the carrier in the pickup bed and shoved Laura through the passenger door. He stopped and cupped her face with his hands. “I’m sorry. But I’m not going to lose you a second time.” Then he slammed the door and ran to the driver’s side.

  Laura clung to the dog as Eli flew down her crooked lane, frighteningly close to the edge on the curves.

  “What about people up the road?” she asked. “Mary Travers and the others?

  “They already know. I called them after I called you.” He turned his head to see her fully. “Six times. Where were you?”

  Her dark eyes rounded with fear and tears jeweled along her lashes. “I was reading your letter,” she whispered.

  Tempted to weep himself, he looked back to the road and concentrated on getting them safely home. And that was exactly where he wanted her—home with him.

  At the pavement, he slid into a left turn, spraying gravel behind them.

  Whirling lights ahead signaled firefighting crews on the way. At the ranch entrance, he paused as two fire units from the Department of Forestry shot past, followed by a personnel carrier.

  He parked at the edge of the bottom pasture and left the dog in the cab. With Laura tucked beneath his arm, he stood next to his truck and watched.

  His stomach twisted at the view.

  The entire length of the lowest ridge roiled in smoke, and orange flames licked out in the breaks. Laura pressed his side, both arms wrapped around his waist as her house ignited, quivered and crumbled. A cedar tree erupted in a fiery whoosh and the mulberry trees blackened.

  When the gasoline cans blew, she jerked and hid her face in his chest.

  He encircled her with both arms, grateful that he’d reached her in time.

  One DOF truck was already at Pennington’s. The other would probably go in from another angle.

  Over the top of Laura’s head Eli searched for Garcia and found him riding herd from outside the pipe fences. Though agitated, his livestock were secure and safe while the hills burned around them like torches.

  Another personnel carrier flew by, and private vehicles poured from the opposite direction—people fleeing to safety as flames spread across the ridge to their secluded homes and acreages beyond. Who knew how long it would be before crews contained the fire?

  Laura sobbed against his chest and Eli tightened his hold. The acrid tang of burning rubber floated to them as flames spread beneath the little car and down the hill. An ember shower trailed the very path that he and Laura had climbed.

  He laid his cheek against her head. “God, thank You for protecting Laura.” He coughed on a sudden surge of emotion. “Thank You.”

  Frightened bellows cut through his thoughts, but the cries weren’t coming from his herd.

  Pennington.

  He held Laura at arm’s length. “I’m going to climb up for a better look.”

  He swung himself into the pickup bed and climbed to the cab roof. Pennington’s scrawny herd pressed into the corner of Laura’s new cable and Eli’s red pipe fence. He knew barbed wire stretched past his property, farther up the hill. The animals could easily push through it in their frightened state, but they clustered in the southwest corner, the farthest point from the fire. The one point they’d never break through.

  If the fire spread downhill through the scrub oak, they’d burn.

  He slid to the bed and hopped to the ground. Taking Laura’s face in his hands, he ached to kiss her and tell her that he loved her. Instead, he told her his plan.

  “Pennington’s cattle are trapped and they’re not going to move toward the fire to push through his upper stretch of barbed wire.”

  She wrapped her hands around his. “You’re not going up there? Eli, they’re not worth your life.”

  He nearly relented at the fear in her eyes. “I can’t let them burn alive. I’ll be okay. You stay here and pray.”

  Quickly he kissed her beautiful lips before issuing one more order. “If the flames spread to the ranch and the irrigated pastures don’t stop them, get in the truck and leave.”

  Still clutching his hands she shook her head.

  He tightened his hold. “Promise me. Garcia will ride away, too. He’ll open the lower gate and the cattle and horses will run. But you—promise me you’ll do as I say.”

  She reached for his face and pressed her mouth against his. “Promise me you’ll come back,” she whispered.

  “Pray.”

  Leaving her, he pulled a neckerchief from his back pocket and tied it loosely around his neck and then kicked in to his lopsided gait. He should have driven the four-wheeler and golf cart to safety. Too late now.

  “Lord, help me get those cattle out and get back to Laura. Give me your strength.”

  He jogged into the barn and from the tack room grabbed a pair of wire cutters and shoved them in his back pocket. Then he ran to the tractor shed, hopped on the quad and pulled the neckerchief up over his mouth and nose. Praying he had enough fuel, he headed for the blocked alleyway between his east pastures and the open hillside.

  He pushed the gate clear and once past his fence line, shifted gears and raced up the slow rise toward the burning hills. He bounced through dips and around boulders, then angled left toward Pennington’s fence line. Four strands ran between older wooden posts in this section, and the fire would easily drop the fence. But it might reach the cattle first.

  Eli stopped at the first wire section, cut through the strands on both sides of a post, then bent them all back on either side leaving a wide gap. Returning to the quad, he drove thro
ugh and turned back down the hillside toward Laura’s pasture.

  Flying embers threw spot fires ahead of the main blaze, and the encroaching heat pressed through his jeans and shirt.

  He slowed as he neared the cattle and stood up, wishing he had Buddy instead. The wide-eyed animals crushed against each other and he waved his hat and hollered as he forced his way between their frightened mass and Laura’s smooth cable fence. He had to turn them uphill, and his likelihood of success was minimal.

  “Lord, I could use some help here,” he prayed. He revved the engine and one bovine reared and swung around, pushing into others behind her. He revved again and two more whirled away. Yelling and revving and waving his hat, he forced them out of the corner, and as a single unit, they trotted along his fence line.

  A couple hundred feet and they’d see the opening in the fence. He revved the engine again and hollered. The lead cow saw her chance and broke into a run. The others followed.

  Low flames snaked along the hillside and fingered into a stand of scrub oak. Embers rained down as Eli flew past and the odor of burning straw filled his nostrils. A prick on his head announced the reason and he jerked off his hat. A quarter-size hole had burned through the crown. He tossed it aside and scrubbed his hair.

  Following the panicked herd through the gap, he heaved a sigh of relief. He’d made it. Thank God, he’d made it.

  The engine choked, sputtered, died. The quad jerked to a stop. Smoke rolled down the hill and swirled around him.

  A great calm settled over him as he stepped off the four-wheeler and turned to face the fire. He saw the Humvee, flames licking out from its interior, men screaming where they’d landed on the roadway. One soldier lay crumpled against a low wall. He clutched his face and blood oozed from the bottom of his left leg. The boot and foot missing.

  The old has gone, and the new has come.

  Eli shook his head at the words and the vision dissipated. He stared at the burning hillside, but saw only oak trees and granite boulders. He coughed and pulled the neckerchief higher across his nose. Then he turned and ran for Laura and the ranch.

  Chapter 22

  Laura’s heart leaped at the sight of Eli hobbling toward her, hatless, covered in ash and drenched in sweat. She flung herself against him, clinging to his hard, trembling body. He held her as if he’d never let go, and she wept in thankfulness for his safety.

  By sunset, the ridgeline glowed with orange spot fires. The hills lay draped in sooty black and the distinct aftertaste of scorched grass and charred wood hung thick in the air.

  Eli and Garcia moved the sprinklers on foot, struggling with the heavy wheels and hose lines. Stunned by her utter loss, Laura watched her hill from an old garden bench as firefighters soaked the rubble of her family’s home, insuring that no smoldering embers reignited. She knew they’d connected to her holding tank—the very reason foothill homeowners were required to have one. Surprised that she had any tears left, she wept again. Chica lay in her lap, evidently accustomed to her mistress’s crying.

  The Mercedes was gone, its blackened frame a mere pile of debris. Her pasture had burned to the edges of irrigated Hawthorne land, spreading west to the road and east beyond the new fence. Even Pennington’s barren ground had charred. Eli was right. The cattle would have died.

  Oak trees stood black-rimmed with leafless lower branches, among them, the Miracle Tree.

  Behind her the sounds of moving cattle told her Eli, Garcia and other ranchers who had come to help were driving the animals back to other sections. Garcia pushed the drys into the north pasture beyond the ranch house, but he didn’t cut out her five. Why should he? She had nothing for them to graze.

  She had nothing period.

  Everything Laura had come home to was gone. The tears started anew, and she was glad Eli wasn’t there. She’d already soaked his shirt in grief, yet also in gratitude.

  Would she have escaped without his help?

  “Oh, God, in spite of this loss, I praise You for my life and Eli’s.”

  “Amen.”

  She turned at the gentle affirmation, set Chica on the grass and stepped into Eli’s loving arms. Trying hard to not cry, she laid her cheek against his drumming heart.

  He stroked her hair, kissed the top of her head and led her back to the bench. Chica jumped and clawed until Laura scooped her up.

  “This old seat may not hold us all,” Eli said, his voice heavy with fatigue.

  Worry lines scarred his brow and etched the corner of his eye. Laura smoothed them with her fingers, hoping they would someday fade.

  The puppy heaved a sigh and dropped its head to its paws. Snuggling under Eli’s strong arm, Laura looked again at what was once her home.

  “I’ve lost everything,” she said.

  With gentle fingers, Eli turned her face toward him. “Have you? Have you really lost everything?”

  “I lost my family’s home, every possession I had left and my car. I even lost my new boots and any hopes of feeding my cows.”

  She felt tears pooling again as she whispered, “And I lost your letter.”

  He wrapped his arms around her with a gentle squeeze. “I’ll write you another one, but I can promise it won’t say the same thing.”

  She pulled back and studied his tired, dirty, beautiful face. “Surprise me.”

  “I plan to.”

  Exhausted from the day’s events, she leaned into him.

  “You haven’t lost everything,” he said. “You have Chica here, and those rascals you call house cats.”

  She nodded, too tired to answer.

  “And you have me.”

  Fatigue fled as she straightened.

  “I do?”

  “That’s the answer I was looking for.”

  It took a minute for the play on words to register. But the meaning bloomed in her heart as his lips brushed hers.

  “I love you, Laura Bell, you—”

  She hushed him with a kiss of her own as a gentle laugh rumbled in his chest.

  Epilogue

  The following April

  Laura’s new handmade boots showed clearly beneath her pale yellow sundress, and her hair fell softly over her shoulders. She hugged the mixed bouquet against her waist, and tucked her right hand into Garcia’s elbow.

  He folded a hand over hers. “Mija,” he said with a tender smile. “You are more beautiful today than ever before.”

  “Thank you, abuelito. I feel beautiful.”

  Forty people filled the white-chair rainbow Eli and Garcia had spread around the Miracle Tree, and Pastor Alex Berger stood confidently before them. Right next to Eli, heartbreakingly handsome in his starched Wranglers and white shirt.

  Guitar music signaled the beginning of the ceremony and Mary urged Lily ahead. The girl’s long cotton dress and meadow-green sash swayed lightly as she scattered white rose pedals over the deep grass aisle dividing the chairs.

  Laura gave her friend a final glance.

  “Thank you, Mary,” she said. “For everything.”

  Mary had opened her home to Laura after the fire, offering shelter and safety as well as love and acceptance. She blew Laura a kiss and moved back toward the open pasture gate.

  A short walk, a sweet kiss on the cheek and Garcia placed her hand in Eli’s and took a front-row seat.

  Caught up in the beauty around her and the man at her side, Laura heard little of what Berger said to their guests until he mentioned the past.

  “We cannot go back and change anything,” he said. “We cannot undo what has happened or even return to a certain time or place and find circumstances the same. This is by God’s good design and plan.”

  Berger paused and stepping aside, turned toward the tree.

  “We all bear scars of some typ
e,” he said. “But with God’s healing touch, we survive and grow. By his grace, we carry on.”

  Facing Eli and Laura again, he continued.

  “The unknown is often frightening, but Jesus said He would never leave us alone. Our job is to move forward, into the future, by faith trusting Him.”

  Eli squeezed the arm she had tucked in his own, and his blue gaze promised a future with the Lord’s great love as their guide.

  When they exchanged rings, Laura gasped at the diamond-encrusted band Eli slipped on her finger. And in a few brief moments, Berger presented them to their neighbors and friends as Mr. and Mrs. Eli Hawthorne III.

  Cowboy hoots and hollers filled the air as they hurried down the aisle and through the pasture gate, running for the barbecue buffet on the east lawn.

  Momentarily alone, Eli swept her up in a kiss that sent a tingle all the way down to her boot heels.

  “I love you, Laura Bell Hawthorne.”

  She melted against him, silently thanking God for this new beginning.

  Their guests soon joined them and Garcia walked over with a secretive smile.

  “My children,” he said with great tenderness. “I have a gift for you.”

  Laura couldn’t imagine what more her old friend could give than to give her away.

  He strode to the lawn’s edge where a long cloth-covered rectangle leaned against the big cottonwood tree. With a bright grin, and a bit of a flourish, he pulled the cloth from a large wooden sign. Two valley oaks were carved into its rich grain, one at either end, and they framed the words, Rancho Roble Milagro.

  “It’s beautiful,” Laura said, stooping to finger the deep carving. Hesitant to admit her ignorance, she pondered the name. Rancho obviously stood for “ranch,” and Roble she knew meant “oak.” But milagro?

  Garcia grinned and nodded at Eli.

  Lifting her by the hand, he tucked her beneath his arm.

  “It’s the new name of our ranch. This seemed like the right time to make the change, and what better name than one that means something to all three of us.”

  Still puzzled, Laura looked to Garcia for a clue.