The Forest Ranger's Promise (9 page)

“Hold still, you knucklehead,” Scott gained his feet and yelled when the deer almost speared him with its horns.

Melanie held her breath, her body tense.

With one last clip, Scott freed the deer. In its haste to be liberated, the animal fell to its knees, then lunged up and jumped away, sprinting to freedom in the stand of juniper.

Scott limped back to the truck, holding his left hand with the splint still on his broken finger.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Yeah, I just twisted my knee. I'll be fine.”

Melanie helped the girls down from the bed of the truck. As she faced Scott, she saw a big gash ripped in his leather glove and blood dripping from a wound on his hand.

“You're hurt.” She raced to the truck and reached in the backseat where she'd seen a first aid kit.

“That deer wasn't too appreciative. The barbed wire bit me.” He smiled as he pulled off the ruined glove.

Melanie wondered how he could make light of such a deep wound. He was a calm man, which soothed her own nerves. The two girls watched with open mouths as he sat on the back tailgate of the truck and cupped his hand. Blood pooled in his palm and dripped into the dried dirt at their feet. With somber eyes, Melanie cleaned and wrapped the wound.

“Are you okay, Daddy?” Shelley stood close by in the back of the truck, her little hands gripping her father's right shoulder.

“Sure, pumpkin. I'll be fine.” He brushed a finger against her nose.

“Will the deer be okay?” Anne asked him.

He smiled into her eyes, seeming relieved that the young girl was speaking to him. “Yes, he'll be fine. He hadn't been hung up for too long and he wasn't too exhausted. We found him just in time. Much longer, and he could have really injured himself.”

Both Anne and Shelley exhaled with relief.

“I'm proud of you two girls,” he said. “You did just what I told you to do, and you didn't scream and carry on. Remember, during times of emergency, you need to remain calm, think and act fast. You can panic after the emergency is over.”

Both girls nodded, beaming bright smiles at his praise. Melanie liked the way he taught their daughters such a valuable lesson and she couldn't agree more. Scott was good for her and Anne. She liked having him in their lives.

She wrapped gauze around Scott's hand. “The gash is deep. You're going to need stitches.”

He shook his head. “I'm not going back to Evanston
tonight. I think one trip is plenty for the day. Let's get these supplies delivered to Alfonso. He can help us unload everything.”

The girls climbed into the cab of the truck, but Melanie stood looking up at Scott, her mind filled with wonder. “That was amazing what you did.”

His eyes softened and he took a step closer, so near she could see the darker navy circle ringing the crystal blue of his pupils. “You're amazing, what you do every day at Opal Ranch and caring for our daughters. I don't know what I'd do without your help.”

Melanie swallowed hard. His praise seemed too personal, almost intimate.
Our daughters.
As if they had a bond of blood between them.

Ducking her head, she backed away and took a shuddering breath. “This has been quite a day. I think we'd better get these supplies delivered to Alfonso and go home.”

“Yeah.” He smiled in understanding.

“Do you want me to drive?”

He shook his head. “I can manage. Come on.”

Back in the truck, Melanie stared out her window. Her sharp eyes searched the pastures for the tall larkspur that had been killing her sheep, but she couldn't find any. Instead, she could see where fresh soil had been dug over, uprooting the noxious plants. In other areas, the plants drooped over as if they'd been sprayed with poison to kill them. Obviously, a work crew had been here recently. By the time her sheep herds came to graze this area, the poison would be washed away and the toxic plants would be dead.

She looked over at Scott and a knowing smile spread across his face.

“Thank you,” she said.

From the happy glint in his eyes, she could tell he knew what she meant. He'd waited to see if she noticed what he'd done. “You're very welcome, Mrs. McAllister.”

And right then, Melanie's opinion of Scott Ennison changed for the better. He had cleaned up the larkspur. He had done a lot of work at her ranch. He had kept his promises to her.

She knew that he still had a long ways to go in meeting with the other ranchers next week, but for now, this was a start.

S
cott arrived early at the town hall. The building was just what he expected. A yellow modular home skirted with metal edging to keep animals and the cold out. Turf and shrubs had been planted around the front and sides of the structure with a little toolshed in the back. No doubt the townsfolk had pooled their resources to buy the building. Scott liked that. It meant Snyderville had some community solidarity, although it didn't include him. Yet.

He found the door unlocked and went inside. He'd booked the meeting room with the town mayor, glad the city hadn't charged a fee.

The room smelled musty, as if it hadn't been used recently. The inner walls of the modular had been removed to provide a larger area for meetings and activities. A complete kitchen with a long counter sat off to one side along with a storage room and one restroom. He figured the place could hold about eighty people, but he doubted they'd have more than fifteen ranchers attending tonight's meeting.

Metal chairs stood stacked beside the walls. Without waiting for help, he set to work placing the chairs into
rows with walk space along each side and up the center of the room. A small wooden podium and whiteboard sat at the front. There was no microphone, but in such a small room, their voices would carry so everyone could hear. He just hoped there was no shouting tonight. He'd left Shelley over at Karen's house. If Melanie was correct, he'd have to defuse the anger of a bunch of ranchers and he didn't want to expose his daughter to that.

Resting his hands on his hips, he perused the room and tried to settle his nerves. He was ready. He had one chance to prove himself to these people. One chance to win their trust. He must not fail or he would let the entire town down, not to mention irreparably damage his own career.

As people started filing in, he stood close by the door. Ignoring the somber frowns thrown his way, he smiled and tried to shake each person's hand. “Welcome. I'm Scott Ennison.”

“Tom Kinsey.” A tall, thin man with a receding hair-line clasped Scott's hand, meeting his eyes with a direct gaze.

Scott nodded in recognition. “You're running cattle up on Horse Creek.”

“That's right. And I'm losing too many from oak poisoning.”

“I heard about that from my range assistant and went up there to take a look. I have an idea for a solution.”

Tom's bushy brows lifted in surprise. “Is that right? You've been up to Horse Creek?”

Scott nodded. “Two weeks ago.”

“Well, that's a miracle. The last ranger just sat in his office. I'd be interested in hearing your idea.”

The man turned and walked toward the chairs, taking
a seat close to the front. Scott exhaled slowly. That hadn't been so bad.

“I hope you have a solution for me, too.”

Scott turned and faced a short man with a long, handle-bar moustache and sideburns. Scott reached to take his hand. “I'm Scott Ennison.”

“My name's Caleb Hinkle. And Kinsey's cattle keep crossing over onto my allotment and grazing out the bottom land. We need a fence along the boundary.”

“I have a suggestion for that problem. We'll talk about it with Tom.”

“Good. I reckon we'll be here late tonight, listening to all your suggestions. I just hope you actually follow through for once.”

As the man sauntered off, Scott ignored his innuendo. He'd clearly heard the sarcasm in the man's voice, but knew he'd have to let it go and prove he knew how to manage the grazing lands. These problems had been ignored for too long.

By seven o'clock, Scott couldn't believe how many people showed up. He guessed he had forty people in the room, including wives and children who probably couldn't be left home alone. Not all these folks were ranchers. Mrs. Barkley, the part-time postmistress, was an elderly widow. Ted Winslow had been a rancher years ago, but now owned no livestock and held no grazing permits. Scott realized many people had come out of simple curiosity and nothing more.

They'd come to check out the new ranger.

Scott pulled at the collar of his shirt, then walked to the front of the room so he could begin on time. Starting late might send a message to the ranchers that he didn't respect their time.

He cleared his throat and put a smile in his voice. The people stared at him and he saw the curiosity and uncertainty in their eyes. What if he failed them? What if he couldn't keep his promises to them?

“Thanks for coming out tonight, folks. I appreciate your taking the time to meet with me.”

Every person faced forward, their eyes resting on Scott like a ten-ton sledge. A quick scan of the room showed not one friendly face. Some people openly glowered with hostility, while others looked at him with passive expressions. He hoped things didn't turn ugly.

“As most of you know, I'm Scott Ennison, the new district ranger.”

Someone snorted and mumbled a derogatory comment. Disgruntled, Scott shifted his weight and began to wonder if this meeting had been a mistake. Maybe he'd underestimated how much the ranchers hated the ranger. But he had a job to do and he wasn't about to back down.

At that moment, Melanie walked in with Anne and sat at the back of the room. She gave him a half smile that went straight to his heart. He couldn't explain why seeing her lifted his spirits and gave him more confidence. For the first time this evening, he didn't feel quite so alone. He nodded at Melanie, but kept his face blank as he cleared his voice and continued with the opening statement he'd practiced at home in front of the bathroom mirror.

“I've already visited with many of you at length, but I thought it might be wise for us to get together and see if there are other problems you may be dealing with. I hope we can work together to figure out some possible solutions. I'm willing to listen and do everything I possibly can to help you out. I grew up on a ranch myself and I
believe the land is here for us all to use and take care of for future generations.”

Another snort and harrumph.

Scott clenched his hands before forcing himself to relax. His forest supervisor hadn't sent him to this town because the job was easy.

He gestured to Tom Kinsey. “Tom, I understand you have a problem with oak poisoning your cattle when you first go onto the Horse Creek allotment. We had a similar problem in another area where I worked and we solved it by simply feeding the cows the night before they went onto the allotment. Then your cattle won't be so hungry when they first hit the allotment and they won't eat such large quantities of oak and get poisoned.”

Tom stared at Scott, who paused to let his suggestion sink in.

“Well, yeah. I reckon that would work. It's a good idea,” Tom conceded.

“Good. As to the boundary problem, we can look at the possibility of putting in a fence to separate the pasture adjacent to the Short Bull allotment. I'll have my office manager call and schedule a time when we can meet with Caleb.” He cleared his throat. “We could sure use some help building the fence to keep the costs down, though. In this economy, I'm short on manpower.”

Caleb's mouth tightened and he sat back, thinking this over. “That sounds reasonable, if Tom will agree.”

Tom's face reddened. He nodded and his voice sounded grouchy, but amenable. “All right, I'll make some men available to help build the fence.”

“Sounds good. Anyone else have a problem we haven't already discussed?” Scott asked.

Pete Longley, the farrier Scott had met over at Melanie's
ranch, lifted his calloused hand. “I'm retired and don't have enough sheep to warrant a herder, so they don't stay where they're supposed to be. With the predator problem, I'm losing a lot of sheep.”

Scott hesitated. “How many sheep do you have?”

“Fifty-three.”

“What if you put your flock in with another, larger band of sheep? If Mrs. McAllister is amenable, her bands of sheep need a herder and you could pay a portion of the costs to put your sheep with hers.”

Pete and Scott looked at Melanie with expectation. Scott hated putting her on the spot. Since she was already friends with Pete, Scott hoped she wouldn't mind adding a small flock in with her bands of sheep.

“Sure, Pete. I'd be happy to help with that,” Melanie said.

A cynical laugh burst from Nina Donaldson's mouth. “I'm not surprised. She's tending the ranger's kid. She'll do whatever he wants.” She spoke with disgust to the big man sitting next to her. Two younger men who looked to be in their early twenties sat on Nina's other side. Their narrowed eyes made them look just as mean as Nina. Scott thought they must be her sons.

“That's not true.” Melanie's eyes narrowed on the other woman. “I think you of all people know I have a mind of my own. But I'm also not a rigid prude who'd do things just to spite myself.”

Nina's face flushed red as a rooster wattle. “You don't know what you're talking about.”

Melanie rose halfway out of her chair, fire spitting from her green eyes. If Scott didn't intercede soon, he might have a battle on his hands.

“I'm sorry, Mrs. Donaldson, but we're not here to
discuss my daughter's child care. That's my personal business.” Scott hated being stern, but he also needed to set a precedent. The ranchers needed to learn what he would and would not tolerate.

Melanie sat back down, her face tight with disapproval.

Nina aimed her barbs at Scott. “You're an outsider. No one wants you here. Why don't you leave?”

Scott took a deep breath and let it go slowly, his pulse racing with anger. “I have a job to do.”

He turned away from the woman, deciding not to dignify her with any more responses. Whispers rippled through the crowd as people bent their heads together. Normally, Scott would handle each problem with the people involved. He'd already driven out to most of their ranches to meet with them personally, but he thought this dialogue might also help. He'd been told by his range assistant that Ben Stimpson never met with the ranchers or asked what they needed. It might take some time for the ranchers to get used to Scott's ways.

“Any other issues, or is that it?” Scott asked.

“I doubt our problem will be as easy to solve.” A middle-aged rancher sitting next to Nina stood up, his deep bass voice filling the room like thunder. He was a big bear of a man with bushy sideburns, heavy jowls and arms as big as Abrams tanks. “My name's Frank Donaldson and we got eight ranchers grazing the Three Creek allotment and not enough water on the east side.”

“That's right! What're you gonna do about that, ranger?” one of Nina's sons chimed in.

So. This was Frank Donaldson. Both Karen and Jim, Scott's range assistant, had warned him about this man. Scott had called and driven out to the Donaldsons' ranch
on several occasions, but Nina always claimed that Frank was out working. Frank never returned any of Scott's phone calls. Nina sat next to her husband, her crinkled eyes looking mean as a wolverine.

Tall and burly with red hair, the sons were smaller versions of their father. Scott almost recoiled at the hatred in their eyes. It unsettled him to have complete strangers glaring at him with such loathing—and no matter how many times he told himself that the townsfolk hated the badge he wore—not him personally—it felt like one and the same.

“Yeah, what are you gonna do about it?” Marty Taylor sneered. “We're paying good money for a nice allotment that isn't being grazed because the cattle won't go there without water. The last ranger didn't do anything about it, either.”

Funny how they just assumed Scott wouldn't help. He nodded in understanding, determined to ignore their personal slurs. He bit his tongue, trying to be patient in the face of their fury. “I know your cattle are bunching up in places where there is water and overgrazing the land there.”

“That's right,” Frank growled.

Scott forced a stiff smile onto his face. “It just so happens that I was out at Three Creek several weeks ago, looking things over. Your cattle are definitely grazing to excess in some areas and not using the east side at all. The Forest Service can bring in a D7 crawler tractor with a pipe layer on it and we'll lay plastic pipe about a mile-and-a-half long from the creek down to a water trough we'll put in. That should solve the problem.”

“That sounds mighty nice, if you'd do it,” Frank yelled.
“We've been trying to get Stimpson to put in a water trough for years. That big pot gut never did anything.”

Scott tensed at the anger in the man's voice. No doubt this problem had been boiling up inside the ranchers for some time. “There's no need to yell, Mr. Donaldson. I can hear you just fine.”

The room burst into shouts as several people stood and started pointing fingers, speaking all at once. Scott didn't even try to keep up with the accusations flying around him. While he realized these people had harsh feelings toward the Forest Service, he couldn't do anything about what Stimpson had or had not done in the past. Now he needed to rebuild these people's trust.

Scott bit his tongue and waited, giving everyone a chance to vent and blow off steam. His mother had taught him that a soft answer turned away wrath and he planned to speak as softly as he could while still being heard.

He glanced at Melanie, finding her in the back, her eyes wide, her normally full lips pressed into a tight line. Anne sat stiffly in her chair as she crossed her arms and glared at Scott. She wore an “I told you so” expression on her face. Of all the people in the room, Scott hated to disappoint this little girl the most. He didn't understand why her opinion meant so much to him, but it did.

The pressure was on.

Scott met Frank's eyes and spoke softly, but clear as a bell. “Mr. Donaldson, I'd like to answer you.” The room quieted by slow degrees and Scott tried again, accenting each word. “Mr. Donaldson, I am not Ben Stimpson. If I say I will do something, you can rest assured that I will do it.”