Peace in the Valley

by Ruth Logan Herne

  “I will make your coffee.” Isabo had seen him eyeing the machines. “Joe was just heading out on an errand.”

  Joe was one of the younger hands on the Double S. Trey had met him earlier that year when he’d come home to visit and assess his father’s deteriorating condition.

  “I had him take your things over to the cabin and told him to handle them with utmost care,” she continued. “You go sit and talk with your father. He is so happy to see you!”

  No mention of how Sam had issued Trey an ultimatum years ago, to either stay on the ranch and help the Double S become an industry standard in beef production, or pursue a doomed music career like his biological mother and father had done.

  His parents’ choices had resulted in an epic fail. Had Sam been solely worried about that? Thinking Trey would follow suit? Or had he just gotten mad because Sam Stafford liked to be the head cowboy in charge, all day, every day?

  Trey had left the ranch, determined to show what could be done in Music City if you lived a good life.

  He didn’t leave the Double S to pursue music to prove something to Sam, like most thought. He’d needed to prove it to his deceased parents. They’d succumbed to the fast-and-furious drug culture that dogged a broad corner of the music community, then overdosed on laced heroin when he was three years old. He’d left the ranch, loving God and music, intent on making the right choices, just to show it could be done.

  And then life managed to prove you wrong, and in the worst possible way.

  “You look good, Trey.” His father’s approval interrupted the old dark thoughts. “Real good.”

  “I had a few days on horseback as I wrapped things up at my place. Nothing like a good saddle and tight fencing to right things in your head. It’s far enough from Music City that I can unwind. Be myself. And then I can get back to Nashville in a few hours’ time as needed.”

  “Why live so far north, Trey?” Sam had never seen his spread along the Virginia border of the beautiful southern state. “Why didn’t you buy a place closer to Nashville?”

  Should he tell Sam the truth? That he picked the historic ranch in Southern Appalachia because it was the closest thing he could find to this? His home with Sam, here in the rich greens of the sloping Kittitas Valley. “I needed hills.” He accepted coffee from Isabo with a smile of thanks, then set it down. “I discovered I’m not much good with flat land.”

  “Me either.” Sam gripped the table’s edge so hard that his knuckles paled. “This operation, Trey…”

  “The living donor surgery that could save your life?”

  “That’s the one.” Sam had never beat around the bush in his life, and Trey liked that he didn’t start now. “It might save me. It could kill you. We can’t do it.”

  Shock broadsided Trey because if there was one thing Sam Stafford had never done, it was to put others first.

  Isabo brought more coffee to the table. She stood there, silent and strong, a formidable force without saying a word, and Trey was in for another surprise when Sam looked her way, humbled.

  The standoff tempted him to run outside and look for signs of approaching Armageddon because Sam Stafford wasn’t the least bit humble, ever. Truth to tell, he had to be one of the most egotistically selfish creatures God had ever put on this planet.

  Isabo gripped the glass carafe and lifted her chin. “I believe when we profess our trust in God, in his goodness and timing, we should then try to live our lives embracing that belief. Or we can be faithful in word only, not in deed. It is, of course, our choice. More coffee, Sam?”

  Sam watched as she poured, as if pouring coffee held him riveted. “If I’d been one of those righteous fathers all along, Isabo, I might see it your way. I wasn’t, and putting this off on a young man with his whole life ahead of him doesn’t sit right. A fact you know.”

  That meant they’d talked about this, another frank curiosity, because no one would accuse Sam of being the sharing-confidences type. Had Isabo changed that?

  Sam answered as if he’d heard the silent question. “The Castiglione women have a way of prying my business out of me.” He lifted his mug and sounded gruff, but the look he sent Isabo wasn’t the least bit gruff. It was appreciative. Almost kind.

  Trey was pretty sure that falling into that muck-filled creek might have opened a portal that thrust him into a parallel universe, because this wasn’t the hard-edged father that raised three boys with a series of housekeepers and little attention.

  This Sam Stafford could almost be considered lovable, and that meant he was, most likely, a pod person and the real Sam Stafford had been whisked away.

  “We’ll talk more of this,” Sam told him, with a pointed look at Isabo. “Because there’s a great deal to consider, but right now, I need you to do me a favor. If you don’t mind, and if you have time.”

  Trey didn’t mention that the old Sam would have just issued orders, because he was really enjoying the gentler motif of this new-and-improved version. “If I can, I will. You know that, Dad.”

  “Always willing.” Sam stared at him, then reached out and put his hand over Trey’s in a move so sweet and kind, Trey almost choked up. “I thought that was a downfall once. I was wrong and stupid. It’s not a downfall at all, Trey.” He looked Trey right in the eyes, and for the life of him, Trey couldn’t look away. “It’s a strength, and I’m glad you had sense enough to see it when I didn’t.”

  This was getting deep, and Trey was bordering uncomfortable when Sam moved his hand and took another slug of coffee. “This woman next door.”

  “Lucy Carlton.”

  “Yes.” Sam’s frown lines went deeper. “She’s had some tough times, and part of that’s her bad judgment and part of it’s my fault, and there’s no doubt I should have gotten around to helping her sooner than this. The liver thing got worse quicker than I thought it would. But with you here now, we can afford to give her the help she needs.”

  “I don’t understand. You’ve got plenty of money, Dad.”

  “Money’s only the beginning,” Sam explained. “She’s a widow with kids, trying to make a go of a place without much hope in sight. I owe her and that farm some restitution, and I don’t mean just moneywise, but good old-fashioned effort.

  “This accident today is the kind of thing that can put a good person like her over the edge, so if you wouldn’t mind helping out over there, I’d be much obliged. I want her place taken care of, just in case I’m not here to do it. We’ve got plenty of people to cover the Double S with Murt back, the summer help on hand, and Colt riding herd.”

  Sam’s request made Trey swallow hard.

  With or without the liver transplant, Sam might not be around long enough to fix things with his neighbor. His expression said this was important to him, which made it important to Trey. “You can’t just hire stuff done?”

  “Some, maybe, but not all. She’s too mad for that. She’d run ’em off.”

  “What makes you think she won’t do the same with me?” The thought almost made him smile, because he was pretty sure she would. She’d made it clear he wasn’t welcome next door.

  “It’s like Isabo said.” Sam saluted Angelina’s mother with his mug. “There’s a light about you. Folks are drawn to it. I think it’s the perfect solution.”

  It was about as imperfect a solution as there could be, but Trey had come back to Central Washington for two reasons: his father’s declining health and to see if returning to the Double S would fill the emptiness inside.

  Therapy had taught him that sometimes you have to go back to move forward. Prayer had showed him the path back began at his father’s side, to make peace. Nothing had forewarned him that he’d be starting the journey by dealing with an antagonistic, beautiful neighbor whose life he’d just messed over to a major degree.

  God works in ways mysterious.

  He paraphrased Cowper’s words of wisdom, but was God the puzzle or did the mystery lay in human response?

  Trey was pretty sure it work
ed both ways. He’d come back to Gray’s Glen to ease his father’s way, whichever path that took. And if Sam asked him to help the woman next door, that’s what Trey would do. “I’ll head right over and see what’s up. I’ve got to settle with her for the wrecked van and flowers.”

  “Her flowers were in the van?”

  Isabo’s anxious tone drove realization further. The flowers were obviously of extreme importance to the Carlton woman, and he’d managed to ruin each and every one of them by missing that stop sign. “Yes.” He muttered the word, wishing he could avoid the admission.

  Gravity deepened Isabo’s expression. She grimaced. “So late in the season for new growth, it is hard to recover such a loss and so many hours of toil.”

  “I’ll make it up to her. I promise.” He stood and lifted his hat. “On my way.”

  “Do you need my checkbook?”

  “This one’s on me,” Trey told him and set a hand on his father’s shoulder. “But when it comes to fixing her farm? I’ll take your money then. Happily.”

  He gave Sam’s shoulder a light squeeze and waved to Isabo as he headed out the door.

  “You have not eaten,” she admonished him. She tapped the bright cauldron of simmering beef.

  “When I get back,” he promised her. “I don’t want to keep the neighbor waiting any longer than I already have. It sounds like she’s got a lot on her plate already. Wrecking her wheels and her livelihood just made a bad situation worse.”

  Isabo followed and pressed a basket of warm rolls into his hands. Then she added two quarts of fresh green beans, long and slim. “Take these, and eat a couple of my rolls on the way. Grouchy, hungry men are no pleasure to be around.”

  He hugged her with his free arm. He wasn’t even sure why; he barely knew her from his whirlwind visits in the spring, but he felt like hugging her, so he did. “Thank you, Isabo.”

  “Go with God, Trey Stafford.”

  The name sounded funny, like old-funny. In Nashville, everyone called him Trey Walker, his original name, before Sam adopted him, but hearing Isabo use his real name…

  Hearing it felt good, and that surprised him most of all.

  Ruined.

  Lucy stared at the small greenhouse that had been lush with promise the night before. Hanging baskets styled with upscale “Proven Winner” combinations had hung from ceiling hooks above boxed planters filled with spillers, chillers, and thrillers. They’d been the kind of displays she loved to create and should have sold well at market. Beside them had been simpler trays of brightly toned marigolds, petunias, and wax begonias.

  She’d taken a chance, again. She’d used some of her tax return money to pay bills, and then she’d taken a leap of faith to expand her growing flower-and-plant enterprise into something bigger and bolder. Today’s market would have been a litmus test of possibilities. Would local folks lay down the necessary funds for pricier displays? And would they love her work?

  Once again, life and time combined to trip things up. If she’d left when she should have, ten minutes earlier, she’d be on the outskirts of Ellensburg right now, making money for her family.

  She stared at the half-empty greenhouse, second-guessing herself, a common occurrence these days.

  “Mommy, are you so sad?” Three-year-old Belle slipped her tiny hand into Lucy’s and held on tight, then laid her head against Lucy’s arm. The spill of sun-soaked curls against Lucy’s tanned skin was the best reminder.

  This was why she did it, why she did everything. Belle and her brothers, two strong, sturdy, slightly boneheaded boys, always tussling. Two boys with too much time on their hands, and not enough cash flow to get them into things boys love—baseball, basketball, riding, and roping.

  And then there was Ashley, Lucy’s fourteen-year-old sister-in-law, a troubled teen with a drunken, self-absorbed mother and little promise in her future.

  Lucy grimaced, wondering what she’d gotten herself into by opening her home and her heart to Chase’s half sister. Would taking the fourteen-year-old in be good for the kids? Good for Ashley? And would Lucy be able to handle it all without murdering someone?

  “I can help you with the fwowers, Mommy.” Belle squeezed Lucy’s arm just enough to show she cared. “I’m a reawwy good waterer.”

  “You are, darling, but Mommy’s not going to water right now. I’m afraid I might lash out irrationally on the remaining plants and that would just add to the list of unsmart moves on my permanent record.”

  “Huh?” Belle hiked up tiny elfin eyebrows, wondering what on earth her mother had just said.

  Lucy hugged her. “Later, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  Cade dashed out of the house just then, yelling his head off. He raced for the first barn.

  Cody banged out the dented screen door just as quickly, but with little chance of catching his fast-moving big brother. That didn’t stop him from trying. Screaming, crying, and waving his fist, he ran across the dry stone drive, and if he’d had a weapon at hand, Lucy figured he’d be brandishing it now as he promised his big brother’s demise.

  They didn’t get along.

  They’d never gotten along.

  Was that normal?

  It couldn’t be, Lucy thought as she hurried to the barn. And yet it was certainly normal enough around their place. She threw the door open wide and barged into the barn.

  She’d been mistaken. Cody did catch his brother. He’d caught up with him because Cade had ducked into a stall, but Cade wasn’t exactly quiet enough to be good at hiding. Cody had found him and tackled into him.

  She pulled one off the other in the dark barn and wasn’t even sure who was who initially. But when the sticky feel of blood slicked her hands, she needed light, and right quick. She hauled them both out of the barn, praying no one had managed to impale a vital organ, and when she got into the drive, she felt faint, but single moms don’t get to feel faint. She pulled off Cade’s shirt, pressed it to the wound on his head, and called Ashley’s name.

  It seemed like forever before Ashley strolled out of the house, looking bored and annoyed. “What?” Ashley raised the upscale phone her mother had gotten her months ago in a foolish attempt to buy the girl’s good behavior. It hadn’t worked then and the girl didn’t deserve to have the phone now, but that was drama for another day. “I was playing a game.”

  “You’ve got to watch these two.” Lucy nodded to Cody and Belle. “Cade’s cut. I’ve got to get him to the emergency clinic.”

  Ashley looked blank, then disparaging. “And how exactly are you going to do that? On the broken tractor?”

  Realization smacked Lucy.

  She had no vehicle and her son needed help. She reached for Ashley’s phone. “We’ll have to call for an ambulance then.”

  “An ambulance? For real?” The teenager stared at her as if she had a right to question Lucy’s judgment, the same expression Chase had used often. “How bad can it be? Throw a bandage on it and let him suffer. He’s a brat; he probably deserved it.”

  “We’ll argue that when he’s not bleeding out on the stones,” Lucy told her. “Make the call or give me the phone.”

  Ashley huffed and lifted the phone just as the crunch of tires on stone came their way. Trey Stafford’s big, shiny SUV rolled up the drive. He parked it, hopped out, and seemed to get a handle on the situation pretty quick for a spoiled Stafford. Of course, the blood-soaked tee might have been a giveaway. His look took in her, the shirt, the kids, and the insolent teen. He hooked his thumb toward the SUV. “Need a lift, ma’am?”

  “Thanks to you, yes.”

  Trey backpedaled and opened the passenger door.

  What choice did she have?

  None, and that’s pretty much what her life had come down to these last few years. Few choices and fewer options. She kept the shirt pressed against Cade’s head and helped him into the seat, then climbed in after him.

  “You two.” Trey squatted low, facing Cody and Belle. “Wanna come?”

 
Cody and Belle stared at him, then their mother, sitting high in the front seat.

  “Ashley can watch them, can’t you, Ash?”

  “Why should now be any different?” Sullen, with one hip cocked, Ashley looked unhappy and uninvested in the kids’ well-being, and Lucy was sorely tempted to send Cade on with Trey and stay home with the younger two. At least that way they’d be watched and cared for.

  “I think riding in a big muscle car with a cowboy sounds way better than staying home with a grumpy teenager, doesn’t it?” Trey tipped his hat a little and grinned at the two younger kids. Belle dimpled, instantly charmed. “Do you have boosters?”

  “There are two on the porch,” Lucy called.

  “Got ’em.” Trey jogged to the porch, past a scowling Ashley, but then paused on his way back. He said something to her, then hurried back to the car to put the boosters in place. He lifted Belle up and gave Cody a hand in. He made sure their seat belts were snug around the seats, closed the door, and jogged around the hood of the car. He climbed in, tugged his belt into place, and made a full one-eighty in quick time to get the SUV back out onto the road. “Where we headed?”

  “The medical clinic in Ellensburg.”

  He glanced her way as he signaled a turn. “That’s forty minutes away.”

  She knew that. Sure, it would be easier and quicker to go to Quick Care. Or in a glorious moment, she could imagine being able to go to a private practice, but the clinic had been good to her. The drive was tough, especially in bad weather or emergencies. In Central Washington, and with three kids, that was at least fifty percent of the time. “It’s what the budget allows.”