The Mechanics of Mistletoe - Liz Isaacson Page 0,16

into another of the houses for a bit until they could get their house fixed.

Gavin’s place needed work, and he was the only one there to do it. Brit Bellamore had been more in the direct path of one of the smaller tornadoes, and his list of damaged items spanned four texts.

“Thank you, Lord,” Bear whispered, his prayer complete but meant to praise the Lord for preserving so much of Shiloh Ridge.

Tammy Fullerton owned a massive apple orchard southeast of town, and she was also reporting a lot of damage.

I think we’ve been hit fairly hard, Squire Ackerman said. Pete, Garth, and I all have lists. Should we lay it on them, boys?

They did, and Bear just stared at the texts as they came in. Silos toppled. Fences down. Bulls gone. Pete owned and operated Courage Reins, a therapeutic riding facility, and he said there were no discernible pastures anymore. The indoor arena had a huge hole in the roof, and the outdoor arena was a pile of sticks.

Horror washed through Bear. Three Rivers Ranch sat almost an hour north of the town of Three Rivers, and it seemed like the tornadoes had definitely hit there quite hard.

His desperation to call Sammy tripled. She most likely wouldn’t have a network like this, and he found himself wanting to be that network for her.

We can all start on our own places, obviously, Gavin said. And also move around to help each other.

So worst or best first? Jeremiah asked.

Let’s do the best first, Squire said. That way, life goes on for those ranches, and they’ll be less stressed when they have to come help us.

Squire really was one of the most decent men Bear had the pleasure of knowing.

South to north, then? Brit asked.

Good idea, Garth Ahlstrom sent.

That would put Bear third, and he wasn’t surprised when Shiloh Ridge came up with a number three next to it.

He looked up from his phone and said, “We’re going to be busy for a bit, everyone.” He continued to fill them in on the plans he’d made with the other ranchers in the area, and everyone agreed they could go help on other lands in order to have theirs cleaned up and operational in literally three days’ time.

With that all settled, Ranger met his eyes. “Well, should we try to get a few things done today? Or just wait it out?”

“Animals for sure,” Bear said. “They need to be rounded up, examined, and fed. I’m going to call in to town and see if there’s someone who needs immediate help there. A lot of us could be useful somewhere else today.”

“I like that idea,” Preacher said, and others agreed too.

Bear nodded and tapped until he got to Sammy’s name. He dialed and lifted his phone to his ear, a silent prayer that she wouldn’t need too much help filling his heart and mind.

Chapter Six

Sammy barely knew which way to turn once she’d emerged from the storm shelter. She kept Lincoln pressed against her left side and her right hand gripping Momma’s. Daddy didn’t go too far either, because danger existed everywhere.

This was the middle of Three Rivers, and all Sammy could see were downed trees, damaged houses, and limp power lines.

What would her shop look like? It sat on the edge of town, ripe for the brunt of the tornadoes that had touched down in the Panhandle.

Loud panic pounded through her, and she couldn’t move. How could they clean this up? Her father was nearing eighty, and though he’d always been the one up on the roof fixing the shingles and servicing the swamp cooler, he’d slowed down a lot in the past five years.

Since Heather’s death, really, but his new blood pressure medication left him with little energy and less drive to get things done. The acre and a half they owned had already started to fall into disrepair, and that was before the tornadoes.

Momma was younger, but also more frail, especially since she’d lost Heather.

Sammy squared her shoulders. It would be up to her to get this cleaned up. “Let’s go look at my house,” she said, eyeing the home where she’d grown up. “You guys might be able to stay there, but the roof looks pretty torn up.”

No one else said anything, and no one moved until Sammy took the first step. “Make a line,” she said, nudging Lincoln behind her. “Link, help Grandpa if he needs it, okay?”

“Okay, Sammy.” The little boy never called her Mom, and that was okay