Her Cowboy Soldier

So that’s what this was all about—another way to defend Josh. “I don’t have anything against Josh,” she protested.

“That’s good to know.” Bobbie’s smile had more steel that sweetness behind it. “Then you won’t mind looking for something good to write about him. As a favor to me.”

“Grandma, I can’t write a story for the paper just to be nice. It has to be news.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure something out,” she said. “You’re a very resourceful young woman.”

Right. Resourceful. She’d been resourceful writing the story about Josh in the first place. She’d been proud of that story—she still was. And she resented that everyone—well, at least Josh and her grandmother—was trying to make her feel guilty about it. One more reason she wasn’t cut out for small-town living. People in a city would surely have more respect for journalism, and less of a personal stake in every story.

* * *

JOSH WAS ON the agenda to speak to the school board the following Thursday, not a job he relished, especially in the wake of the unwelcome publicity from Amy’s newspaper article. So far the reaction he’d heard from the article had been divided—Josh’s friends thought he hadn’t gotten a fair shake, while others applauded Amy for shedding light on a clear case of favoritism. Josh preferred to lie low and wait for the whole thing to blow over. Unfortunately, having to appear before the school board made that impossible.

Groaning inwardly, he settled into a chair near the back of the room and steeled himself for a boring wait. Only then did he spot Amy in the second row, rich brown hair falling around her shoulders as she leaned forward to scribble something in the reporter’s notebook in her lap. Was she waiting to twist his words tonight into something even more damning?

After the usual business of roll call and approval of minutes, school board president Al Hirschmer scanned the agenda, then addressed the crowd. “I see the first item of business is a proposal by someone called Love Soldier? Is that a typo? Is Love Soldier here?”

Amid some laughter a tall woman, her black hair in pigtails, stood and made her way to the microphone at the front of the room. “Erica Bridegate, why didn’t you just say it was you?” one of the board members, Ashley Frawley, said.

Erica’s cheeks reddened, but she held her head high. “I prefer Love Soldier.” She adjusted the microphone, the two dozen bracelets on her arm sounding like a whole drawerful of dropped silverware. “I’m here to ask the board to support my proposal to turn the vacant lot next to the elementary school into a garden. The students can help grow vegetables and learn about agriculture and healthy food, and the school cafeteria can save money on fresh vegetables.”

“What is that lot used for now?” Roger Perkins asked.

“The maintenance staff parks the plow truck there when it’s not in use,” Al said. “And I believe there are a couple of Dumpsters there.”

“The school should be able to find somewhere else for those things,” Erica/Love said. “I propose to build raised beds there and help the children grow tomatoes, beans, lettuce and other vegetables they can eat. Or they could sell the excess to finance other school projects.”

“That sounds good,” Roger said. “But you can’t just dig up a vacant lot and have a garden. What are you going to build these raised beds out of?”

“Tony Gillespie has a big pile of bricks from the old stables he tore down that he said he’d donate if the school board will give him a letter so he can take the value of the bricks off his taxes,” she said. “And Nancy Metheny said she’d get her brother to till up the dirt if I thought this would get her son, Nicky, to eat vegetables.”

“So all you need from us is permission?” Ashley asked.

“Permission and an agreement to pay the water bill. And maybe build a fence to keep out wandering dogs and things.”

“I knew there was a catch,” Ashley said to no one in particular.

“The school doesn’t have money for a fence or a bigger water bill,” the third board member, Stephanie Olefski, said. “And I seriously doubt kids can eat enough vegetables to make up the difference.”

This launched a lengthy debate about the merits of fresh vegetables, the aesthetic value of fences and what kind of watering system a garden might need. Josh passed the time studying the way Amy’s hair reflected the light, and the curve of her cheek—the only part of her face he could really see from this angle.

As if feeling his gaze on her, she turned, and when their eyes met, he read a challenge there—as if she expected him to confront her once more and she was prepared for the verbal battle. But he had no intention of arguing with Amy—certainly not in public. Zach had been right—if she considered him her enemy, she was more likely to continue to go after him in the paper. Better to pretend he had no beef with her and hope she’d soon turn her attention to a more exciting story.

“If I find someone to donate the fencing, and volunteers to erect it, can the school pay for the water?” Erica was saying now.

“Do we have any idea how much the water will cost?” Ashley asked. “We can’t commit to an unknown cost. Are we talking one hundred dollars or one thousand dollars?”

“I suppose that depends on how much it rains,” Roger said.

Josh raised his hand. Al regarded him with something like relief in his expression. “Mr. Scofield, do you have something to add?”

Feeling a little self-conscious under the scrutiny of every eye in the room, Josh stood. “The elementary school has a metal roof. Perhaps we could install a cistern and some kind of collection system and use the rain we collect to water the garden.”

“That’s a wonderful idea.” Eyes shining, Erica looked at him as if he’d just offered her a diamond ring. “And so green. It will teach the children about recycling.”

“Don’t you have to have a permit from the state to do something like that?” Stephanie asked.

“I could look into that,” Josh said.

“Then I propose we table a decision until we have a report on the feasibility of a water collection system and the costs involved.” Al banged down his gavel. “All in favor?”

The vote was unanimous in favor of the motion. Erica mimed that she would talk to Josh more later, and he sat down again. But he was scarcely settled in his chair when Al called his name. “Mr. Scofield, I believe you’re next on the agenda.”

“Don’t tell me you’re looking for money, too,” Ashley quipped.

“Actually, I am.” Josh cleared his throat and tried to focus his thoughts. “I’d like for my students to attend a science bee in Durango next month. We’d need a bus and driver to take us there and back for the day, plus the participation fee of ten dollars per student.”

“And how many students are we talking about?” Al asked.

“I have twenty who’d be eligible to attend, but I think about twelve would actually go, plus adult sponsors.”

“So, $120, plus salary for a driver for the day, plus the gas for the bus...” Stephanie looked thoughtful.

“I don’t think the school board should spend money on extracurricular activities that benefit only a handful of students in these dire economic times.”

Josh didn’t have to turn around to know who spoke.

“Mr. Southerland, you need to request to be recognized by the board before you speak,” Al said.

“I apologize.” Rick rose and stood, gripping the back of the chair in front of him. “May I speak?”

“The chair recognizes Rick Southerland,” Al said.

“I think it sets a bad precedent for the board to fund trips like this science bee at a time when you’ve been forced to lay off personnel,” Rick said. “Today it’s a science bee. Tomorrow it’s a spelling bee or a debate tournament or a trip to a museum.”

“Those are all educational enrichment activities,” Stephanie said.

“Yes, but they’re also expensive,” Rick said. “And we can’t afford expensive.” He glanced at Josh. “People come here from the city with big ideas about what our kids need, but what they really need is the good education we can give them right here.”

Josh wondered if Rick was planning a run for school board next election; he sounded just like a politician delivering a campaign speech.

“I’m not from the city,” Josh pointed out. “I grew up here in Hartland.”

“And do you think that entitles you to some special favoritism?” Rick sneered. “Or don’t we all already know the answer to that question?”

Josh groaned. “I don’t think—”

“He makes a good point.” Roger sat back in his chair. “Not the local thing—I don’t care about that. But I don’t think this is a good use of our funds. If the kids want to go to the science bee, their parents can pay the ten dollars and they can carpool there.”

Murmurs of agreement circulated around the table and a few seconds later Josh sat down, his request for funds denied and the meeting adjourned.

Had Rick come here tonight specifically to shoot down Josh’s proposal? Josh hadn’t seen his fellow teacher walk into the room, but maybe he’d been too focused on Amy to notice anything else. And speaking of Amy, what would she make of all this? Would she say he’d played up his status as a local to ask for special favors from the board? That was ridiculous, but no more ridiculous than her assertion that the baseball team’s winning record was all due to luck, or that he’d gotten his job solely because he was a veteran.

He needed to talk to Amy and set the record straight before another wild story made it into the paper. But before Josh could reach Amy, Erica waylaid him. “That was a wonderful idea you had about the water collection and all,” she said. “I’m really looking forward to working with you on this project. I was thinking maybe we could apply for some grants and—”

“Uh-huh.” Josh watched as Amy walked out the door. “Maybe we could talk later,” he said to Erica. “I have something I need to do right now.”

He stepped into the hallway and looked around. Amy moved away from the two women she’d been talking with and came toward him. “What is your reaction to the school board’s denying your request for the money to attend the science bee?” she asked.

She was in full reporter mode, mini recorder in hand. “Hello, Amy,” he said. “How are you this evening?”

Her cheeks flushed pink. “I’m fine, Josh. In a little hurry to make the paper’s deadline. Are you upset the school board denied your request for funds?”

He chose his words carefully, all the while watching her, trying to gauge her reaction. “The school board has to weigh many requests for funds,” he said. “They have a tough job and a duty to be fiscally responsible. I’m still hoping the students can attend the science bee. I’ll be asking their parents to help make that happen, and I welcome any other volunteers from the community who’d like to help.”

“Very nicely done.” She switched off the recorder and stuck it in her purse. “Any idea why Rick Southerland spoke out so vehemently against the proposal?”

“I assume he objects to the school board spending any extra money.”

“He hasn’t attended any of the meetings I’ve covered. And something about his manner...I think this was more personal.”

He was tempted to tell her the whole story, but reminded himself that his words might end up on the front page of next week’s edition of the Hartland Herald. “Must be your imagination. Rick and I work together, but I really don’t know him well.”

“And now you’ve volunteered to help Love Soldier with her gardening project. That’s very civic-minded of you.”

Did he imagine the teasing note in her voice? “Her idea is a good one. I hated to see it shot down before we at least tried to find a solution. I worked on a couple of rainwater collection projects in college.”

“Any idea why she changed her name to Love Soldier?”

“You’d have to ask her, but Erica has always been a little alternative.”

“Then you know her?”

“We were in school together. Besides, stay in Hartland long enough and you get to know everyone.”

“My grandmother keeps assuming I already know everyone the way she does. She was convinced you and I had met before, but I had to remind her I was only here for a few weeks in the summer.”

“I don’t think we’d met before.” He liked to think he would have remembered if they’d known each other before, but who could say what kind of an impression she’d have made on him when she was a girl? He’d spent more time focused on baseball and horses than chasing after girls.

“I’ll help you with the science bee, if you like,” she said.

He didn’t try to hide his surprise. “Do you really want to spend the day with a bunch of high school kids?”

She shrugged. “I think it would make an interesting story for the paper.”

“Is that the real reason, or are you just looking for an excuse to follow me around and report on other signs of inexperience or special treatment?”

Her eyes narrowed. “I’ll report on what I see, the same as I’d do with anyone.”

“As long as you don’t single me out for any special attention. I wouldn’t want that, no matter what some people think.”

A blush of color suffused her cheeks again—from anger, or some other emotion? “No special attention,” she said. “Not from me.”

She started to turn away, but he touched her shoulder. “I don’t want us to be enemies,” he said.

“You’re not my enemy. I told you before—I’m just doing my job.”

Right. And someone had to matter to you in some way in order for them to be your enemy. Amy obviously felt nothing for him except that resentment she apparently felt for any veteran who had what her late husband did not—namely, a life. He couldn’t change those feelings with an apology or a smile. “The science bee is next month. I’ll let you know.”

“Fine.” She slung her purse over her shoulder. “See you around.”

“Yeah. See you around.”

Josh watched her retreat—that’s what it felt like to him, anyway. She didn’t run out of the building, but he sensed she wanted to. What was she running from? Was his presence really so offensive to her?

He’d been crazy to agree to let her come along on the science bee trip. The day would be awkward and tense and he’d probably come off looking bad in the article she wrote.

“Where is she off to in such a hurry?” Erica joined him. “I wanted to talk to her about the school garden.”

“She said she had a deadline for the paper.”

“Oh. Well, maybe I’ll call her tomorrow.”

He started to tell Erica to avoid talking about his involvement in the project when she talked to Amy. No sense stirring up animosity. But explaining his reasoning to “Love Soldier” would be too awkward. “I guess you want to talk about the irrigation system,” he said. “We could discuss it over coffee.”

“Thanks. We should do that, but not tonight. My boyfriend is waiting up, and I really want to get home and tell him all about what happened tonight.”

“What’s his name?”

“George Ramirez. You don’t know him. He’s from Berkley.”

“And his name’s George?” Not Rainbow or Peace Brother or something equally as colorful as Love Soldier?

She grinned. “He’s not into the name thing like I am. Though I’m beginning to think Love Soldier might be a little too far-out for Hartland.”

“Erica is a nice name.”

She wrinkled her nose. “But it doesn’t really say anything, you know?”

Josh thought he understood. He was proud of the name he’d been born with, but he sometimes wondered if it wouldn’t be easier if he’d come to town as a stranger, without his family name and history to brand him as a local. Would people like Rick and Amy hassle him less if he was an outsider?

“Anyway, thanks for backing me up tonight,” Erica continued. “We’ll talk soon, I promise.”

She left in a flurry of gauze skirts and flying pigtails. Home to share her news with the man she loved. A tightness in his chest pinched at him. If he hadn’t known better, he might have thought he was jealous of Erica and George—and Rick and his wife and all those people who had other people to go home to.

How much worse was it, though, for Amy? She had known that kind of love, that connection with another person, and war had taken that away. Josh might have lost a hand in Iraq, but she had lost so much more. He could replace his hand with a hook or a prosthesis, but would another man for Amy be like his hand—a dim imitation of what she really wanted?

Maybe that was at the heart of all his mixed feelings for Amy. As much as her treatment of him in the paper angered him, he sympathized with her plight. The war hurt men and women like her who had waited at home every bit as much as it injured and killed their loved ones who fought. He was one more reminder of that hurt. Just as well she wasn’t planning to stay in Hartland long. Her leaving town would be the best thing for both of them.

CHAPTER THREE

OF ALL HER jobs at the farm, Amy liked working in the greenhouses best. The long rows of tomatoes, peppers, lettuces and herbs made a fragrant jungle around her as she weeded, pruned, watered and picked. Worries and stress vanished as she focused on the plants. “You have a knack for gardening,” her grandmother told her as the two women worked side by side the morning after the school board meeting.

“Isn’t it funny, since I didn’t grow up around gardening? Mom didn’t even keep houseplants.” The family moved so often plants and pets and other dependents made little sense.

“They say sometimes a talent will skip a generation.” Bobbie leaned over and deftly pinched back a tomato plant. “Your mother didn’t have the patience for gardening. You have to stick around a whole season or more to see the fruits of your labors. She always wanted to move on to the next big adventure. She still does, I guess. Where are your folks now—South America, isn’t it?”

“Chile. Guiding tours to see penguins and whales.”

“That’s all pretty exciting, I’m sure, but I’d rather stay here and watch a plant grow and develop and bear fruit.”

“Look, Mama!” Chloe tiptoed carefully toward them, her eyes fixed on the bright red-and-black ladybug that crawled along her finger.

“That’s a ladybug,” Bobbie said. “She helps protect the plants from aphids and other bad bugs.”

“She’s so pretty.” The ladybug spread her wings and flew away. Chloe’s face fell. “She’s gone.”

“She didn’t go far,” Bobbie said. “She and her friends live in the greenhouses.”

“Then I’ll look for more,” the child said, and skipped away.

“She’s a smart girl,” Bobbie said. “And I don’t just say that because I’m her great-grandmother. She pays attention to things and really listens to what you say. She might end up being a great scientist.”

Chloe was smart. Amy wanted to give her every advantage in life—the best schools, stimulating activities—but what parent didn’t want those things for her child? For now, Chloe had found her own little bit of heaven in the greenhouses and fields of Anderson Orchards, where she ruled like a princess in her kingdom, doted on by all the adults.

“Speaking of science, Josh Scofield was at the school board meeting last night,” Amy said as she and her grandmother began to pick peppers from the heavily laden plants in the center of the greenhouse.

“What was he doing there?”

“He asked the board for money to send some of his students to a science bee over in Durango, but they turned him down.”

“What is a science bee?”

“I don’t know for sure. Maybe like a spelling bee, but the contestants have to answer science questions. I guess I’ll find out for sure when we go. I volunteered to help him and to write about it for the paper.”

“I’m glad to see you’re taking my advice about getting involved in the community,” Bobbie said.

“I’m not really going to be involved—I’ll just be observing and reporting on the day’s events for the paper. Ed is always eager to print school news—he says advertisers love it.” She set aside one bucket full of peppers and picked up an empty one. “And I thought I might pitch the story to some national magazines— an example of how to get kids more excited about science or something like that.”

“At least you’ll be meeting new people. It’s a start. When is all this taking place?”

“I’m not sure. Next month sometime, Josh said.”

Bobbie inched her walker forward and scrutinized a yellowing branch on a pepper plant. “Can’t be too much longer. School will be out at the end of May. And it starts back in before Labor Day.” She took a pair of clippers from her pocket and snipped off the offending branch and tossed it aside. “You’ll want to see about getting Chloe enrolled in kindergarten next year. Mrs. Dawson teaches those little ones. You’ll like her.”

“I suppose.”

“You suppose what?”

“I suppose I’ll enroll Chloe in kindergarten if we’re still here in the fall. I haven’t decided what I’m going to do.”

“Where would you go? This is your home.” Bobbie peered intently at her. “Aren’t you happy here?”

“I am happy. But I’ve never lived in a small town before. Right now it’s a novelty, but later...” She let her voice trail away.

“Don’t borrow trouble worrying about what might never come. You’re settling in nicely. You’ve got a job, and friends. You’re making a place for yourself here.”

She was settling in, but was she settling? Hartland felt so peaceful, so safe. Maybe she was only hiding here, protecting herself from hurt instead of getting out into the wider world and developing a thicker skin.

She could almost hear her mother, encouraging an eight-year-old Amy, who had been worried about starting classes at yet another new school. “Doing the easy thing all the time is for cowards,” Katherine Anderson Carruthers had said. “You’re not a coward. You’re going to go out there and show everyone you’re not afraid, and just doing that will make you braver, and next time it won’t be so hard.”

Her mother had been right. By the time Amy was sixteen, starting at a new school wasn’t so hard. But part of that may have been because she hadn’t felt compelled to try so hard to fit in and make friends. After all, she’d be leaving soon, so if the other students didn’t like her, it didn’t matter in the long run.

She thought of Josh and his “in your face” hook, daring people to take him as he was or not at all. She understood that kind of bravado.

“Anything else exciting happen at the school board meeting, or do I need to wait and read about it in the paper?” Bobbie asked.

She wasn’t sure if her grandmother had decided there was nothing else to say on the matter of Amy staying or leaving, or if she was saving her arguments for another time. Either way, Amy was grateful for the change of subject. “A woman named Erica Bridegate was there. She introduced herself as Love Soldier.”

“Hippie-looking chick—tall, with dark hair?”

“Yes. Do you know her?”

“She buys produce from me and asks smart questions about how to grow things. Kelli and Devon Bridegate’s girl. One of those who marches to her own drummer, but nothing wrong with that. What was she up to?”

“She wants to turn the vacant lot next to the elementary school into a garden for the kids. They’d grow vegetables and eat them in the school cafeteria.”

“And the school board thought she was crazy.”

“Not really. She’d done her homework and recruited volunteers and even got folks to agree to donate a lot of the material she’d need for the project. But she asked the school to pay the water bill and that worried the board, because no one knew how much that bill might be.”

“Makes sense. What happened?”

“Josh said he knew about rainwater irrigation systems and offered to help her set up a system to collect rain from the school roof and store it in a cistern to use to water the garden. He said he worked with a couple of systems like that in college.”

“I’d forgotten he went to University of Northern Colorado and got a degree in agricultural science. I think the plan was for him to come home and help his daddy run the Bar S.”