Twisted Up (Taking Chances #1) - Erin Nicholas Page 0,44

in himself.

“A hundred?” Andrew asked. “We sent 250 into Kearney four years ago.”

Kearney was six times the size of Chance, and Jake understood what Andrew was saying. But Chance needed those troops. “If you want to send 250, I’ll put them to work.”

Andrew chuckled again. “They’ll be tripping over one another in Chance.”

Jake smiled. “I’ll settle for the hundred, then.”

“How about I come out tomorrow and check things out?”

Jake’s smile died. They didn’t need support from the Guard for security; there was no looting going on in Chance. They didn’t need search-and-rescue or temporary shelter or ready-to-eat meals. The city’s water was still on. There were areas without power, but more than half the town was still connected. Jake worked with the Guard all the time and knew they had any number of things to offer a community in crisis. Fortunately, Chance didn’t need most of their resources.

But Chance needed bodies and their ability to use power tools and put stuff together. Besides, Jake loved the feel of having the National Guardsmen on scene. The uniforms alone brought a sense of security and comfort. When a local unit showed up, people knew these were men and women from the area, and they brought a sense of community and hope with them. They were there to make things better, to do whatever needed done. Simply being there mattered.

“No offense, but no matter how good you are, you can’t take the place of fifty National Guardsmen. I’m telling you, if we’re not back on our feet in two weeks, this town won’t survive.” He paced to the window and filled Andrew in on the economic impact to Chance if the town and farm weren’t cleaned up fast. “Help me get this done.”

“Fifty can help you get that done,” Andrew pointed out.

“You’re right. If I didn’t have a tight timeline. But I need this all done in two weeks. Less if possible.” Jake sighed. He knew a hundred National Guardsmen was a lot to send to one little town that was, more or less, already getting back on its feet. “Look at it this way—you send a hundred now, they get done fast and they’re out of here in half the time it would take fifty to get done. It’s the same amount of money and resources either way.”

“Fine,” Andrew finally agreed. “A hundred it is.”

Jake felt the triumph surge, but he said firmly, “Tomorrow.”

“Yes, tomorrow.”

And that was why Jake Mitchell was called upon when things needed to get done.

They disconnected, and Jake watched the activity in the town square below Frank’s office window. There was a long folding table set up under some trees, manned by volunteers from one of the churches. The women behind the table had multiple sign-up sheets in front of them. Some were people offering assistance, others were for requests for assistance. Things like clothing, tools, and trucks were being offered up, along with time and muscles. All useful, valid things. But the disorganization was making Jake a little crazy.

He had to grin, however, when he saw Max on the steps of the gazebo. He’d been roped into meeting with a group of students from the University of Nebraska. Max had thought he was going to be talking to, and showing off for, a bunch of wannabe storm chasers. In actuality, they were science students interested in meteorology who wanted to study the weather phenomenon around Chance and make a short film.

“There is no weather ‘phenomenon,’” Jake had heard Max say to the group on Jake’s way into Frank’s office. “These tornadoes have formed like any other. There is no scientific explanation for why Chance keeps getting hit. There’s nothing unusual here in the topography, the geology, the atmosphere, nothing.”

Jake had grinned and quickly gone several yards out of his way to avoid walking past the group. His cousin would have most definitely tried to pull him into that conversation. Then left him there alone with the students.

But Max wasn’t fooling anyone. He loved to talk about that stuff, and it didn’t matter the audience.

Jake’s phone rang and he glanced at it. He’d been using Frank’s lines for most of the Chance-related calls, but several of his contacts had his cell number.

This call wasn’t about Chance, though. This was a DC number.

He took a deep breath and accepted the call. He couldn’t keep avoiding them completely.

“Mitchell,” he answered.

“Sergeant Major Mitchell, this is LeAnn in Senator Conrad’s office.”

Conrad was one of the senators from Missouri. “’Morning, LeAnn,” Jake said,