The Silver Creek Valley had just the right formula for a fruit tree orchard, too. Her mother, Cathy, had a green thumb that she’d passed on to Dana. She had plans for a huge garden just like the one she’d once had at their farm. Once more, Dana reminded herself that this was her dream home, no matter how dilapidated-looking the cabin was and how barren the Wyoming land seemed. It was just starting to come alive mid-April.
A new start. A new life.
Despite all these world-altering changes, she felt a void and emptiness within her heart that nothing, not even buying the Wildflower Ranch, could fill. This ranch had been established in 1900 by a German husband and wife. Gazing left to right, she could see the harsh winter had tamped down anything that had been growing wild here for several decades. There was a creek out back, perfect as an irrigation source for that garden and small orchard she’d envisioned in her mind.
She’d made an appointment with Mary Bishop, owner of Mama’s Store, the most popular place in town to buy anything, and she’d filled out an employment form earlier in the week. Today, she’d find out if she had a job or not. Mary sold only organic, non-GMO fruits, vegetables, and meat. Although she had not met Mary personally, everyone spoke highly of her, and she had an appointment in less than an hour to speak with her. Her stomach clenched in anxiety. She had to have a job!
Dana needed a line of income or she wouldn’t be able to make the payments on her ranch property and make her dream a reality. There was a lot of fear gnawing at her. Could she pull this off? Had she just wasted her parents’ hard-earned money?
Feeling anything but happy, she walked slowly around the log cabin. Behind her, the main highway leading into Silver Creek was a quarter of a mile away. The dirt road into the place was deeply rutted and lacked grading and the care it needed.
What was odd to her was that there had been a lot of vehicle traffic on it and she could see where the flat land had a road of sorts plowed through it, heading to the slope of the mountain, disappearing into the thick, dark woods. Maybe the locals were hunting and used the road? She didn’t know, but now that she had bought it, the first thing she was going to erect was a stout gate to stop unwanted visitors.
Her green Toyota pickup, more than ten years old, had handled the rutted dirt road easily. Turning on the heel of her work boot, she stared at the two twenty-foot-tall wooden posts standing upright at the entrance to the place. Over time and lack of yearly care, the carved wooden sign that had once rested across them to create a wonderful entrance, had toppled off those two stout timbers, thanks to the fierce winds that scoured the valley during the winter. It lay in two broken five-foot pieces, near the entrance. Etched into the battered, weathered oak sign were the words: WILDFLOWER RANCH. Whoever had been commissioned to create it had been a wonderful wood sculptor, because the words were carved into it, as well. It had lost its varnish a long time ago, the wood roughened by the weather. Still, she wanted to do something with it, get it fixed and lifted back into place where it had been for the family who had loved this place.
Dana wondered if Hilda, the German wife, had been responsible for that sign, or if one of her later descendants had it created? Dana would never know because the family had died out in 2000, with no one else to pass the ranch on to in their family. Since then, the land had lain dormant, unused, the cabin’s upkeep gone, leaving it and the land to the ravages of time and weather. No one, the Realtor had told her a week ago, would buy the ranch because of the small family log cabin. It would have to be razed and a new home built on the property. From his point of view, the land was worth something, but the log cabin was a total loss. She almost said her life was a total loss, too, but she bit back the remark. She had to rebuild her life, just like this cabin needed loving care and attention to come back to life, as well.
Dana didn’t want to destroy the cabin, built in 1900, because, in part, it symbolized how she’d felt for the last several years. Destroying the log cabin, to her, was like symbolically destroying herself. She wasn’t anywhere near healed from her experience, but saw the cabin as a reflection of where she was presently. Determined to save the cabin, and in doing so, she’d bought the place to save herself. Her mother had often said, Life is always unfair, but the way her entire world got upended, it was more than unfair. It was a daily hell on earth for her.
Glancing at her wristwatch, she noted that the appointment with Mary Bishop was thirty minutes away. Time to get a move on. Mary was considered the maven, the queen of Silver Creek, Dana had discovered in the last week of being here. The older woman, everyone warned her, didn’t act her age at all. She was spunky, driven, full of great ideas and easily excited over new projects. Dana thought, from talking to several people over at the Silver Creek food bank and kitchen where she volunteered on one day each weekend, that maybe the word passion best suited go-getter Mary Bishop, according to others. She was a woman on a mission and she took it seriously. Dana wanted this appointment with Queen Mary, and she meant that label in kind terms, not making fun of the elder at all. Queens could rule with grace, responsibility, and in her idealistic world, a queen would have a great love for her people. Mary sounded like such a person and that’s all Dana could ask for.
* * *
Mama’s Store was bustling with townspeople, lots of children and some people with service dogs, mixed among the crowded aisles. It was a huge place, far larger than she imagined from seeing it from the highway. A woman clerk led her back to Mary’s office.
Everyone was happy here, she noted. There were smiles, lots of laughter and neighborly chatting amongst those who pushed the grocery carts around the store. Stomach tight with fear of rejection, Dana followed, trying to keep her expression calm, not fearful or anxious. Pulse bounding with stress, she pushed through it, following the clerk through the loading dock area to a small glass-enclosed office. Inside, she could see a petite woman with short silver hair working at a large, messy-looking desk.
“Go on in,” the clerk invited, opening the door. “Mary, here’s Dana Scott. She had an appointment with you?”
Taking a deep breath, Dana moved forward, spotting a chair in front of the desk.
“Yep, she did. Come in, Dana,” Mary invited, lifting her head, waving her into the office.
Instantly, Dana could feel the elder’s piercing scrutiny. Her stomach clenched, the door closing quietly behind her. Would Mary have a job for her? “Yes, ma’am,” she said, standing, hands clasped in front of her.
“Sit, sit,” Mary murmured, and gestured toward the chair. She put down her pen and moved some papers to one side, grabbing a blank piece of paper and placing it in front of her. “It’s nice to meet you. Are you new to Silver Creek?”
Sitting, Dana murmured, “Yes, ma’am, I am. I’ve been here for two weeks.”
Squinting her eyes, Mary said, “I hear from Judy, over at the food bank, that you’ve signed up to work a day on weekends over there.”
Dana tried to keep the surprise off her face, but didn’t succeed. “Well . . . yes, yes, I did.”
“Why?”
This was supposed to be an employment interview. Thrown off by Mary’s question, Mary’s gaze fixed on her, making her feel as if she were being checked out, Dana tried to relax. Opening her hands, she said, “Because I was raised to give back to others who didn’t have as much as we did.”