The Forest Ranger's Promise

Ennison blinked. “What?”

“Anne, don’t say that. Your father’s death was an accident. It wasn’t anyone’s fault.” Melanie said the words mechanically, trying to believe them herself. It’d been Aaron’s foul temper and drinking that had caused his death, not the forest ranger.

The girl’s eyes narrowed with loathing. “You’re good for nothing but causing us ranchers trouble.”

“Anne!”

“Well, it’s true.” The girl whirled around and ran to her horse, burying her cheek against the warm side of the animal’s shoulder.

Melanie stared after Anne, her heart aching. She understood her daughter’s animosity, but didn’t like Anne’s disrespect and hateful words. Anne was too young to hate anyone. How she wished Aaron hadn’t instilled a revulsion for rangers in their daughter.

Ennison’s brow crinkled in confusion. “I don’t understand.”

Melanie wasn’t about to explain. Not to this stranger. When she spoke, her voice sounded strained. “Do you think you can stand so we can get you on a horse? I think you need a doctor.”

“Yeah, if you can just help me get down to the mouth of Game Creek, I’ve got a truck and horse trailer there.”

“Okay.” She preferred returning to her sheep camp. Game Creek was much closer, but if she didn’t return, her herder might worry. As she helped Ennison stand, she noticed that Anne silently refused to lend a hand. Something inside Melanie hardened. She also felt angry, yet it wasn’t fair to blame this man for Aaron’s death. Between the last ranger’s dictatorial ways and Aaron’s drunken rages, her family had suffered greatly.

Gossips in Snyderville said the previous ranger had lost control over the grazing permittees in the area. Even his kids were getting beaten up at school. The Forest Service claimed that Scott Ennison was an experienced range man from another district where he’d handled serious grazing problems. Ennison also had a reputation for being hard-nosed, but fair.

Melanie would reserve judgment for now.

Since cattle and sheep men had a natural aversion to forest rangers, Melanie half wished she hadn’t been the one to discover him. What would the other ranchers say when they found out she’d helped him? How would she ever live it down?

The story of the Good Samaritan filled her mind, reminding her that she should love her enemy and turn the other cheek. But no matter how hard she tried, she still didn’t want to help this man.

Ennison walked steady, but once he sat in the saddle, he groaned and hung limp over the neck of Melanie’s horse. Prickles of alarm dotted Melanie’s flesh. What if he died? She didn’t want any accusations flung her way.

“You okay?” She stood beside her horse, looking up at the man’s pale face.

He straightened, his tall frame towering over her as he gave a weak smile. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. I’m sure glad you showed up when you did. I think that mother grizzly had me on the menu for supper.”

She almost chuckled, but couldn’t bring herself to feel that comfortable around him. “I think it’s time we left this place.”

“I won’t argue with you on that score.”

She climbed up behind Anne on the girl’s horse. Fearing Ennison might fall off his mount, Melanie took the reins, ponying him along beside her as they headed down the trail. They rode slow and steady and she glanced over her shoulder often to make certain Ennison was okay. She kept her rifle close at hand, just in case she saw a bear. Aaron had taught her to shoot. She’d chased off coyotes from her band of sheep by firing into the air. Aaron told her that did little good because they’d just return to steal sheep later on. He wanted her to shoot to kill, but she just couldn’t, unless a person’s life was at stake. Just like that mother grizzly, Melanie would do anything to protect her child.

As darkness covered the mountain, Melanie asked Anne to dig two flashlights out of her saddlebag. Aiming the beams of light at the trail, she silently prayed they didn’t miss the turn leading to Game Creek.

Please, God, keep us safe tonight.

When they reached the camp, Melanie stared through the dark, just making out the Forest Service emblem with a lone pine tree on the side of Ennison’s pale green truck. She breathed a sigh of relief. His horse stood beside the truck, its head up with reins trailing as it nickered gently in greeting.

“You knucklehead. Why didn’t you take me with when you bolted?” Ennison asked the animal.

The horse just stared at them. Again, Melanie appreciated Ennison’s humor and would have laughed if he’d been any other man.

It took thirty minutes to get the three horses loaded and Ennison settled in the front seat. Thankfully, the trailer was big enough to hold all the horses. No way was she about to leave her precious animals on this mountain alone. Not with grizzly bears prowling around. She depended on her horses for her livelihood and couldn’t afford to buy new ones.

She and Anne climbed into the cab of the truck. The small overhead light came on. Ennison watched her quietly, his blue eyes clear and lucid. She didn’t know how she’d ever live it down with the other ranchers if the new ranger died while in her care. Likewise, she doubted they’d let her forget helping him. In this small community, everyone knew everyone else’s secrets.

“You know how to handle yourself with horses. You got those animals loaded in no time,” Ennison commented.

She ignored his praise and stretched out her hand. “I need the key.”

He reached inside his pants pocket and she heard the jingle as he placed some keys on her open palm. Anne sat hunched against Melanie’s side, her lips pinched as she stared straight ahead and refused to let any part of her leg touch the man.

“I didn’t catch your name,” Ennison said.

“It’s Mrs. McAllister.” Melanie inserted the key and started the ignition.

“You don’t have a first name?”

“Yes, I do.” She turned on the headlights and put the truck in gear.

“What is it?” he persisted.

She tossed an irritated glance his way, finding the gleam of his eyes unsettling. “Melanie, but my friends and family call me Mel. You can call me Mrs. McAllister.”

She pressed on the accelerator, going slow. The horses thumped around in back, gaining their balance as the trailer bounced gently over the narrow dirt road.

“Wait a minute. You’re Mel McAllister?” His eyes widened with surprise.

“That’s right.” She tried not to look at him, but found it difficult. Worrying about this man didn’t sit well with her. She’d be a Good Samaritan this time, but that didn’t mean she had to be friends.

“I recognize your name, but I thought you were a man.”

She gave a harsh laugh. “Not hardly.”

“I can see that.”

Her cheeks heated up like road flares and she refused to look at him, grateful that the darkness hid her face.

“You’re a grazing permittee,” he said.

Her shoulders stiffened. “Unfortunately.”

“You don’t like grazing on the National Forest?”

“Of course I do. I just don’t like being told when, where and how to graze my sheep.”

She caught his nod of acquiescence. “I can understand your hostility, but believe me when I say I have nothing against grazing the land. It’s here for us all to use.” He sighed. “It’s the overgrazing that I object to. That kills the land and causes erosion. With a bit of structure and management, there are ways to find a happy middle ground.”

“Look, Mr. Ennison, my sheep aren’t going to cause any harm to your precious land. I’m smart enough to figure out that if we overgraze we won’t have enough quality feed for next year.”

“It’s not my land, Melanie. It belongs to everyone. I just want to help preserve it for future generations.”