The Rancher's Holiday Hope

Chapter One (#u0d08213f-9aea-5ec2-abd3-29b3791ceb58)

Standing in the middle of the Mercy Ranch Wedding Chapel, Sierra Lawson felt almost at peace, as if God was present and this was a real chapel, not just a wedding venue. The building looked more like a stable than a church, but there was something about the sun filtering through the stained-glass windows that touched her soul.

She’d never expected this to be her healing place. One year ago she would have denied she needed healing of any kind. Now she felt as if she was one step closer to being the person she’d always wanted to be. A person who didn’t allow others to control her happiness.

She moved to the row of windows that faced east and thought about those horrible days that had changed her life forever just four years earlier. For two weeks she had waited each morning for the sliver of sunlight to appear in her cell. Each of those precious sunrises had marked one more day, one more chance to be rescued, one more day of hoping God heard her feeble prayers as she huddled in an enemy prison in Afghanistan.

Nothing had been the same for her since. It would never be the same. During her weeks of captivity she’d known fear, pain and helplessness. But she’d also known an unexplainable calm and a hope that didn’t make sense.

It was because of that experience that she had found her way to Mercy Ranch, a home for wounded veterans just outside of Hope, Oklahoma. And it was due to the ranch owner, Jack West, that she found herself in the position of wedding planner.

Wedding planner? She still couldn’t believe she’d agreed to take this on. This was the absolute worst job for a woman like Sierra. She was responsible for selling the dream of fairy-tale weddings and happily-ever-afters. Neither of which was something she believed in. She’d seen too much, been through too much, to allow herself to get caught up in those dreams.

The stillness of the November morning and her quiet reflection was shattered by the steady thump of rotors beating against the air. Sierra backed away from the window and the all too familiar vibration. She waited for the sound of metal and glass hitting hard-packed earth. She tried to convince herself that it had to be a dream. She wasn’t in Afghanistan. The helicopter couldn’t be real. She was not in danger.

It was the wind beating against something outside. It was late November in Oklahoma and the wind blew on a daily basis.

Somewhere in the building a door banged shut. Glory, her young assistant, must have arrived early to help with the latest community project. Jack West wanted to bring all of the churches in the area together in a massive Christmas event that would include music, a dinner and gifts for children in the community. It was a big project that made Sierra shudder.

Cautious, she stepped into the entry and looked around. When she saw nothing suspicious, she moved to close the doors but before she could reach them a sound behind her had her spinning to meet whoever had entered the building.

Overhead the helicopter still hovered. She caught sight of it out of the corner of her eye. And standing in front of her, a very real little girl.

The girl couldn’t have been more than eight. The dog next to her was older. The shepherd had grayed the way an old man would and the look in his expressive brown eyes said he knew he had to protect the small person at his side.

“Hello. Can I help you?” Sierra asked as her heart thudded in time with the beat of the rotors.

She sounded calm. She took some pride in that. She focused on breathing and what she knew to be reality. The helicopter wasn’t an enemy attacking. Her brain was telling her to flee, to grab the child and run. That was the wrong response. But knowing didn’t stop the panic, the urge toward fight or flight.

If she did what her brain wanted, everyone would think she had finally lost it.

She somehow managed a smile for the child who continued to stare at her, blond hair a tangled mess around a rosy-cheeked face.

“Do you have a name?” The words came out hoarse, not soft and soothing. Her friend Kylie West often used those words on frightened children but somehow Kylie always seemed to calm.

With the question, the child backed away, proving that Sierra didn’t have the touch when it came to children.

She tried again. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

The little girl didn’t seem convinced, even with a softened tone of voice.

“My name is Sierra. I work here. How did you get here?”

The child looked down at her dog.

“Did he bring you?”

No response. Sierra closed her eyes just briefly. When she opened them, the child had started to inch along the wall. Sierra squatted, putting herself at the little girl’s eye level. The helicopter had landed. She could see it in the open lawn. Her heart rate slowly returned to normal, as if catching the rhythm of the slowing rotors.

“I’m not going to hurt you or let anyone else hurt you.” Sierra hoped the promise made sense.

The little girl ran to her, wrapping thin arms around her neck as the doors to the chapel opened. A less than clean face snuggled against Sierra’s shoulder. The child smelled of the outdoors, as if the wind, soil and dog had invaded every pore. Why did children have to smell so bad?

Another wrong thought. The child needed protection. From the man walking through the door? He was tall, dark and not smiling. Handsome. Mind-bogglingly handsome. He had lean features with dark eyes that set her nerves on edge. Definitely not her type. It was more comfortable to think of him as the angry stranger. And his anger seemed to be directed at the child. The dog at her side growled.

The man stopped, removed his cowboy hat and proceeded forward with a calm demeanor. Calm on the surface but with power radiating beneath that outward facade. Sierra didn’t know who he was but she found herself wishing she’d taken the child and hidden from him.

“Linnie, we’ve been looking for you.” He spoke with a quiet voice, one that he probably thought would calm the child.

The child—Linnie—shook her head and didn’t look up. Her face stayed buried in Sierra’s shoulder.

“Your mom is worried sick,” he continued.

Sierra felt little arms tighten around her neck. She tried to extricate herself from the vise grip but Linnie wouldn’t let go.

“Linnie, your mom called for us to help find you.”

The child’s body went limp and she curled against Sierra. “Mommy,” she whimpered.

“Maybe I should ask who you are?” Sierra said, lifting the child as she stood up. The dog stayed close, his growl keeping the cowboy with the chocolate-brown curls at a distance.

Sierra fought the urge to fall apart. He was too dark, too imposing, and the helicopter had already started unraveling her emotions. She backed toward her office door.

“You’re not going to take that child,” he warned. His voice was low, authoritative. He wasn’t used to being questioned.

“I’m not taking her. I’m keeping her safe.”

“From me?” He laughed. “I’m the person searching for her. We spotted her from the air as she headed this way.”

“And I’m her new best friend.”

“The police are helping us search.” His voice remained quiet, soothing, but she heard the edge of impatience. “I’ll call the sheriff and he can explain the situation to you.”

“You go ahead. I’m not giving her up until I know she’s safe.”

“Suit yourself. But if you have a blanket, she’s probably cold. And hungry. She wandered off yesterday evening. She’d been playing in her backyard with the dog and must have decided to go exploring. Her name is Linnie.”

Sierra glanced down at the child in her arms. “I’ll take her to my office.”

“Do I look like someone who would kidnap a child? Whisk her away in my helicopter?” the stranger said.

“It’s a crazy world,” Sierra responded as she moved away with Linnie clinging to her neck.

“Yes, it is.” He followed her into her office.

Sierra held the little girl in one arm while she poured hot water into a cup that she’d prepared with her favorite herbal tea. The aroma filled the air, fruity and light.

“This will warm you up. And I have donuts.” She handed one to the girl clinging to her for all she was worth. A dirty hand released its hold on Sierra’s neck and grabbed the powdered-sugar-covered donut.