Peace in the Valley: A Novel (Double S Ranch, Band 3) - Softcover

Logan Herne, Ruth

 
9781601427809: Peace in the Valley: A Novel (Double S Ranch, Band 3)
Softcover
ISBN 10: 1601427808 ISBN 13: 9781601427809
Verlag: PRH Christian Publishing, 2017

Inhaltsangabe

In spite of their differences, Trey Walker Stafford knows he owes his life to cowboy and legendary rancher Sam Stafford—the uncle who rescued him after his parents’ death. Trey had left the Double S Ranch to pursue music against Sam’s wishes, but returns to central Washington when he learns he’s the best match for a procedure that could save Sam’s life. Although Trey’s found country music fame and success, he’s also endured the tragic loss of his wife. He croons about love, but struggles with a yawning emptiness he can’t explain.
 
Overwhelmed by a growing list of challenges, but mistrustful of Stafford men, single mother Lucy Carlton reluctantly accepts Trey’s help to revive her crumbling farm when Sam instructs him to repay the overdue debt to her family.
 
As the two grow closer, Trey slowly begins to open his heart to this beautiful woman and strives to let go of the grief he’s held for years. Lucy has a complicated history of her own. Can Trey accept her as she is, learn to forgive the past, and find the elusive peace he's sought for so long?

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Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

With well over a million books in print, RUTH LOGAN HERNE is the popular author of nearly thirty titles, including Back in the Saddle and Home on the Range, plus more than a dozen novellas. She loves God, her family, her country, most critters, and little kids. Ruthy lives on a farm in upstate New York with her husband and has six grown children.

Auszug. © Genehmigter Nachdruck. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.

One

For once in his life, Trey Walker Stafford had aced his two older brothers. The fact that he had to risk his life and offer up a chunk of his liver to claim the title made it a dubious honor.

The irony wasn’t lost on Trey as he drove his packed SUV west on I-90 through Central Washington. Thethought that of Sam Stafford’s three sons, it was the orphaned-nephew-turned-adopted son whose DNA provided the best possible outcome for his adoptive father fit today’sreality TV scenarios too well.

But then their lives up to this point had seemed like a reality television show, so why change now?

The fingers of his left hand thrummed a senseless beat on the leather steering wheel. He drove the roads he’d known for so long, intent on getting back to the ranch and the man who’d rescued him from squalor twenty-five years before. He meant to do whatever he could to help his father. Not because he harbored some kind of death wish. Surgery, painful recovery, and possible death weren’t on his agenda. His agent had made that clear multiple times during the past week, and by every possible available media.

“You’d risk everything you’ve earned, everything you have, your home.” Ed Boddy ticked off his fingers as he listed Trey’s potential downfall. “That ranch you love, tucked in the hills of Northern Tennessee, your music, your life. And all to help the man who threw you out of the house because you loved music? You’re a better man than I am, Trey. That’s for sure.”

He wasn’t better. He knew that. He was guilt ridden and fairly vacant inside, like one of those black holes yawning wide in an endless universe. Solid. Dense. Yet empty. And he’d felt that way for as long as he could remember.

Sam hadn’t thrown him out because he loved music. He’d cast him aside because Sam had watched the downside of fame claim the life of his younger sister and her husband. He’d seen what life in the spotlight could do. Sam knew it wasn’t pretty. But Trey had shrugged off his father’s concerns. Growing up knowing the worst of the music industry firsthand had left him with a powerful need to prove it could be done the right way. Clean. Open. Honest. The crazy rich part wasn’t something he’d planned. It just kind of happened along the way.

“Poor little boy.”

The voice. Her voice, the voice of his mother, Sandra Lee Stafford. Beloved on her early country music recordings, that slow-churned alto turned utterly scathing when it came to her little boy.

She’d stood over him, smelling bad and looking hateful, and that’s all Trey envisioned anytime someone mentioned his mother. They said a three-year-old doesn’t have the capacity to remember actual events, that they might have snatches of recall, here and there. Whoever they were,they were plumb stupid, because Trey remembered enough. Too much.

“There ain’t no one in this world ’bout to feel sorry foryou, Trey-Trey. Least of all, me.”

He must have been crying. He couldn’t remember the tears, but he remembered the wetness on his face.

And then she was gone, and his father was gone, and the next thing he knew, Sam Stafford strode into that police station. Larger than life, Sam had scooped up Trey and taken him home.

And so it began, and here’s where it might end: Trey, donating part of his liver to keep Sam Stafford alive. A good Christian man would go forward boldly, embracing the opportunity. Trey marked that up as another out-and-out failure because he was Christian to a fault on most things . . .

But not this.

His internal guilt spiked like an overwound E string, but Trey spent so much of his life feeling guilty that today shouldn’t be any different. But this change — this summer—would be life and death. And that, right there, made a difference.

He exited the highway and took the right-hand turn leading up the hill, away from Gray’s Glen, the town he grew up in. Broad fields stretched along either side, filled with lush grass and gray-green sagebrush. The sagebrush grew thickeras the meadows climbed. Dark red cattle dotted the upper pastures like a generous sprinkling of cayenne pepper on steamed broccoli.

He was hungry.

Tired.

Nervous?

Yes.

The Ellensburg deejay segued into Trey’s newest single in a way that made him cringe. “Ya wanna talk a Cinderella cowboy story? We’ve got it right here, as Central Washington’s own Trey Walker tugs the heartstrings while he rockets up the charts again with ‘You Only Live Once.’ ”

Trey shut the radio off.

He had no desire to hear himself croon sage words of advice to trusting fans. They thought he understood their plight.

He didn’t.

They sensed he had a heart of gold.

Wrong again.

They believed in him, in his music, his calling, his faith.

How he wished he could believe in himself. He —

The aged, dark blue van came out of nowhere. Trey hitthe brakes too late.

The van shot into the intersection.

Trey cut the wheel and prayed. The SUV squealed in protest.

The van turned too, away from him, in a desperate move to avoid the crash. The maneuver worked, but then the van raced up the embankment and tipped up and over before landing on its side in the small creek running into the glen.

Trey shoved the SUV into park and jumped out. He raced across the two-lane country road, jumped onto the hill, and hit 911 on his phone at the same time. He shouted quick facts to the dispatcher as he scaled the small but steep incline. “We’ve got a van overturned into Chudney’s Creek north ofthe I-90 turnoff on Buell Road, just past the intersection of East Chelan.”

He didn’t wait for a response as he crested the creek bank. He leaped into the water and yanked himself up onto the side front of the tipped van. Wet fingers made the grip difficult, but once he gained a leg up, he was able to pull himself the rest of the way. He reached down to jerk open the van door.

It wouldn’t budge.

The driver — a woman — was facing away from him.

She didn’t move. Didn’t wiggle. Didn’t —

His heart stopped. He pounded on the door, not knowing what else to do, then realized he might be able to get in through the back hatch. He jumped down and rushed through the knee-deep water, then bent and grabbed the latch on the back hatch.

It opened. He breathed out, glad to have access to the van and the driver.

His relief was short lived. The entire back of the van was filled with floral debris. Upended plants, baskets, planters,and trays of seedlings blocked his way. Utter destruction filled the banged-up van from top to bottom.

“Noooo.” The single drawn-out word came from the front of the van, which meant the driver was alive. Knowing that gave his heart reason to keep on beating.

He looked up.

If despair had a face, it was the one he saw right now as the driver spotted the complete wreckage. “Unlock your door,” he ordered, then slogged back through the water. He climbed up again and braced himself. The van’s angle made opening the door tough. Its weight worked against him, but instinct dictated he needed to get her out of the van. And what if there was a passenger?

He pushed down on his heels and tugged the door upright.It blocked his view, and he didn’t have the best footing, but he hung on for dear life. “Can you climb out? I’m afraid to let go of the door to help you; it might fall and hit you.”

“I can...

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Verlag
PRH Christian Publishing
Erscheinungsdatum
2017
Sprache
Englisch
ISBN 10 
1601427808
ISBN 13 
9781601427809
Einband
Taschenbuch
Anzahl der Seiten
352
Kontakt zum Hersteller
Nicht verfügbar
Verantwortliche Person
gpsr@libri.de
gpsr@libri.de

Friedensallee 273
Hamburg
22763
Deutschland

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