Читать книгу The Forest Ranger's Promise - Leigh Bale - Страница 11

“Why do we have to come here, Dad? I wanna go home.” Shelley crinkled her nose with repugnance as Scott rapped his knuckles on the front door of the red-brick house.

White trim surrounded each sparkling window. The front porch circled the house, with white paint peeling along the slim columns supporting the second floor. The front gate stood ajar, sagging on its hinges. Cracked cement along the foundation showed a lack of care. Several boards hung loose on the toolshed at the back edge of the lawn. Everything looked tidy, but repair jobs had been ignored. It occurred to him that Melanie McAllister might need his help as much as he needed hers.

“Shell, I’ve already explained to you three times,” he told his daughter. “The people living here saved my life. The least we can do is thank them.”

The girl released an exaggerated sigh. “All right.”

Opal Ranch. Jim had told Scott that the ranch had been named for the white and gold mountains surrounding the valley. Poplars lined the long gravel driveway. Scott remembered Melanie talking about the beautiful sunsets and he could understand why she loved it here. As the summer breeze blew through the treetops, he envied the beauty and solitude of this place.

Shelley peered at the open fields of hay and alfalfa. Boredom crinkled her brow. She stood beside him wearing a short white skirt and sandals, her long, blond hair pulled back with a pink ribbon. Delicate and pretty as a picture.

She held a paper plate of homemade chocolate chip cookies covered with tin foil. Thinking it might be quality time together, he’d insisted that she help him make the cookies after he took two aspirin for his pounding headache. She’d sat on a kitchen stool and munched chocolate chips while he mixed the dough. No amount of cajoling could get her to help measure out the flour and eggs.

“Why couldn’t you just call to say thank you?” the girl complained.

“You wanted something to do. We’re doing something right now.” He forced a smile, her grumbling getting on his nerves. In addition to her pretty looks, she’d inherited her mother’s penchant for whining. He hoped to change that someday soon.

“Maybe no one’s home.” A hopeful lilt filled her voice.

“Maybe they’re working out back.” Scott peered at the rusty old truck sitting in the driveway. He let go of the screen door and it clapped closed. His booted heels pounded the wood as he walked the length of the porch. He ducked his head so he wouldn’t hit the hanging baskets of white petunias and blue lobelia. Several large clay pots filled with white, fragrant alyssum sat along the edge of the porch and he breathed in deeply. Having a background in botany, he was probably one of the few regular men in the world who knew these names.

He glanced around with interest. The green lawn showed impeccable grooming, with flower beds of tall hollyhocks. A vegetable garden of peas, lettuce and beets filled the backyard, guarded by a white picket fence. No tomato or pepper plants. Scott knew they wouldn’t grow well at this cooler elevation.

It seemed Melanie had a green thumb and he liked that for some odd reason.

Shelley followed him, hanging back as a black-and-white border collie with droopy ears trotted out of the barn. The animal gave one bark, then greeted them by sniffing their legs.

“Will he bite?” Shelley circled her dad, seeking protection.

“I don’t think so.” Scott leaned forward and put out his hand, letting the animal sniff him. Considering they were strangers, the dog seemed composed and gentle. Most likely one of Melanie’s sheepdogs, trained to be calm and not bark a lot.

“Hi there, fella. Where’s your master?” Scott scratched the dog’s ears.

“Probably in the barn,” Shelley said.

“Hello! Anyone here?” Scott stood at the back of the McAllisters’ house and shouted. He gazed at the variety of green fields, lean-to’s for working in the hot sun, barns, sheds and corrals filled with sheep. Low fences with tight rails and netting kept the sheep from squeezing through. A tractor, four-wheelers and other equipment sat parked neatly at the side of the garage. Melanie could be anywhere, even up on the mountain. He figured that since they’d been up all night at the hospital, she would have had a late start, like him, and stayed home to work today.

“Dad! Look at the babies,” Shelley exclaimed, pointing at a corral where approximately thirty small lambs scampered around, bawling for their mothers.

“Come on.” Scott stepped off the porch and headed across the road leading to the barn. The dog trotted beside them, its tongue lolling out of its mouth as it panted. The stench of animals filled the air.

“Yuck! It stinks here.” Shelley pinched her nose.

“Breathe through your mouth instead of your nose. You’ll get used to it,” Scott advised.

The girl gave him a look of incredulity, which he ignored. It had been tempting to leave Shelley with Karen today, but he knew they’d never become close that way. The sooner Shelley got used to living in Snyderville, the happier she’d be. Which would make him happy. He hoped.

At the corrals, Shelley stood on the bottom rail of the fence, holding the plate of cookies as she leaned over the top rail to peer at the little, fluffy lambs. He hoped she didn’t drop the plate.

“Oh, they’re so cute. Can we play with them?”

Scott chuckled. “I thought you didn’t want to come along. You thought this would be boring.”

She showed a grin of slightly crooked teeth. “That was before I knew we were gonna see sweet little babies.”

Victory! He’d finally found something she liked.

“Come on. Let’s see if anyone’s here. Maybe you can play with the lambs.” He inclined his head toward the barn.

The wide double doors stood open, the bright sunlight filtering inside. As Scott stepped into the shadows, he caught the pungent aroma of straw and animals. Dust motes floated in the air. Stalls lined one wall of the barn with a small tractor, shovels and other tools hanging neatly on hooks along the other wall. He heard voices coming from the opposite end of the barn.

“You think she’s too tender to ride?”

“Nah, she’ll be all right. Won’t you, girl?”

Scott followed the voices, hearing several muted clapping sounds, as if someone were patting a horse.

Conscious of Shelley hovering at his heels, he peered into a stall at the far end of the barn. An older man wearing a beat-up Stetson and a white, scruffy beard stood bent over a mare’s right front leg. The man held the animal’s hoof between his knees. Wearing baggy, faded blue jeans and old cowboy boots, he used a metal pick to clean dirt away from the sole of the horse’s hoof. He grunted as he fought to reach over his own rotund belly.

Melanie stood leaning against the stall, one booted foot raised and braced against the wooden wall behind her. Her forehead crinkled and her delicate jaw tensed as she watched the farrier work. Strands of auburn hair came free of her long braid, resting against her flushed cheeks. Even wearing blue jeans, she looked too feminine for such work, but Scott knew better. Life couldn’t be easy with her husband gone, but this woman had spunk and was sure of what she was doing. Scott couldn’t help admiring her.

“See here?” The farrier pointed at the hoof and Melanie lowered her foot as she leaned forward to see. “I’ll rasp the outside of the heel, but not the inside toe, which is much lower. I think once we get the heels lined up with the back of the frog, she’ll be in good shape for riding.”

Scott took a step and Melanie turned, her green eyes widening. His senses went into overdrive the moment she looked at him. Since when had he had such a reaction to a woman? Even Allison never made him feel warm and gushy inside. He rubbed one hand over his face, regaining his composure.

Her gaze lowered to his drab olive Forest Service shirt and the badge he wore on the flap of his left front shirt pocket. Her lips pursed together in annoyance. Casting a quick glance over her shoulder at the farrier, she pushed a curl of hair back behind her ear. “Mr. Ennison. This is a surprise.” She gestured nervously toward the bearded man. “Have you met Pete Longley? He’s a local rancher and the best farrier around Snyderville.”

“I’ve heard your name. Glad to meet you.” Scott extended his right hand.

Pete let go of the animal’s hoof and stood straight before clasping Scott’s hand. “Howdy.”

Melanie fidgeted with a bridle hanging on a hook by the stall gate. “Umm, Mr. Ennison’s the new ranger in town.”

“That so?” Pete let go of Scott’s hand a bit too abruptly and narrowed his gray eyes. He studied Scott for several moments before he turned and spat into the dirt. And just like that, Pete dismissed him.

The shaggy man didn’t say another word as he went back to his work on the horse, but his actions spoke volumes. Scott knew the drill and had become inured to this attitude. Pete didn’t respect him simply because he was the forest ranger. He’d find another opportunity to chat with the man later, but right now, he wanted to talk to Melanie.

“What did you want?” she asked.

Shelley peered around his back and Scott pulled his daughter forward. “I never really got to say thank you last night, so Shelley and I made cookies for you.”

Melanie crinkled her brow in confusion. Shelley held out the plate, a shy look on her face. Melanie flashed such a bright smile that Scott sucked back a startled breath and stared. Melanie bent slightly at the waist so she could look Shelley in the eye. “You made these cookies?”

“Yeah, Dad and me.” Shelley tossed a sheepish smile at her father as Melanie took the plate. He hoped that this was a step in the right direction. If Shelley saw how their offering pleased Melanie, perhaps she might learn something about service to others. Normally Scott would have settled for store-bought cookies, but he was trying to be both a mother and father to his daughter. Though Melanie seemed to hold animosity toward him, Scott felt relieved that she treated his daughter with kindness.

He noticed Pete casting speculative glances his way. In return, Melanie shifted her weight to block Pete’s view.

Scott could take a hint. Neither Melanie nor Pete wanted him here, but Scott had been selected for this job for a good reason. It’d take time, but he was determined to work with these ranchers and clean up the problems his predecessor had left in his wake.

“Thank you. I’m sure Anne will gobble them down. I’d better hide them until after dinner,” Melanie said.

“Who’s Anne?” Shelley asked.

“My daughter. She’s out in the sheds feeding the lambs. She’s just about your age.”

“I’m almost eleven.”

“Your dad told me. Anne just turned eleven last week.” Melanie pointed at the door. “You can go see the lambs if you like. They’re awfully sweet.”

Shelley’s face lit up with eagerness. “Can I, Dad?”

Thank goodness. He’d begun to wonder if she’d ever find anything pleasant about Snyderville.

“Sure, honey. Just be careful.”

Shelley trotted off, excited to play with the lambs. It’d be great if she made a new friend and took some interest in their new life here. Scott watched her go with mixed feelings. He hadn’t seen her this animated since they’d moved to Snyderville three weeks earlier. He’d never expected her to find such pleasure at the McAllister ranch. Considering how she could have reacted, Melanie had been surprisingly civil to his daughter and Scott appreciated it more than he could say.

“So did you need anything else?” Melanie asked, urging him toward the barn door.

Scott would have left, but he also had a job to do. He wasn’t about to let this woman rancher with a kind heart chase him off. Not until he won her over and found a way to help her with her grazing permits.

“Actually, I wanted to ask you something.”

They stepped outside and he enjoyed a breeze that cooled the sweat on his brow and neck. He felt incredibly lucky to be alive. Because of Melanie, he had a second chance at happiness. His experience with the grizzly had changed him somehow, renewing his appreciation for life. He didn’t want to take anything for granted, especially Shelley.

“What’s up?” Melanie asked, resting her hands on her slim hips. Sunlight glinted off her hair, showing deep highlights of brown, red and gold. Like fire on the mountain. He almost reached out to touch it.

“I’d like to make a personal business arrangement with you.”

Her eyes narrowed with suspicion. “What kind of business arrangement?”

He indicated the picket fence with his chin. “I can see you need some help around this place and I need summer child care. How would you feel about watching Shelley for me during the weekdays and in return I’ll work for you on the weekends and some evenings?”

As he expected, her mouth dropped open and she stared as if he’d gone daft. She cleared her throat and studied the barn, thinking things over.

“Shelley’s a good girl,” he hurried on. “She wouldn’t be much trouble. In fact, she can help you with chores. And I’ve taught her to ride. She’d do fine, if you gave her a gentle horse.”

He was talking fast now, hoping she’d agree. Hoping she’d look past his position as the forest ranger and see that they could help each other out.

Melanie whirled around and looked him in the eye. “Why would you ask me to do this? I’m basically a stranger. You don’t really know me, yet you’re willing to leave your child with me?”

He nodded. “Karen told me you’re a good, hardworking woman. She said you’d take care of Shelley, but keep her busy so she didn’t have time to whine about how much she hates leaving her old friends.” He smiled. “Besides, any woman who would help me the way you did last night couldn’t be bad. I already feel as if I’ve known you for years.”

Maybe he shouldn’t have said that, but it was true. He felt more comfortable around Mel McAllister than around any woman he’d ever met. She wasn’t afraid to get her hands dirty and she didn’t worry about mussing her long hair.

Karen had also told him that Melanie’s husband had been an alcoholic, which was one reason Opal Ranch wasn’t doing so well. When Scott heard this, he understood why Melanie didn’t mingle with the townsfolk much. When your husband was a drunk, you didn’t have many friends. Having grown up with an alcoholic father, Scott would never forget the drunken rages, financial destitution, teasing from other kids and feelings of fear and abandonment. Melanie had a good reason not to trust others.

Melanie chuckled, a low, raspy sound. “I take it Shelley’s not too pleased that her dad dragged her here to Snyderville?”

“Nope. Not pleased at all.” He smiled, feeling oddly happy to be talking to this woman. Being near her was the highlight of his day.

“Well, a friend might do my Anne some good, and I could sure use your help around this place.” She hesitated, wrapping her arms around her waist. The action made her seem vulnerable and he was struck by a sudden desire to protect her.

“So it’s a deal?” he urged.

“Okay, we’ll try it for one week. If the girls don’t get along or it’s not working out, you’ll have to take Shelley somewhere else. Agreed?”

“Agreed.”

She gave him a smile so bright he had to blink. It lit up her face and softened her eyes and he thought he’d never seen anything so beautiful in all his life.

What was wrong with him?

He coughed and looked away. “Now that’s settled, I’ve got one more question for you.”

“Okay.” Her green eyes looked guarded.

“Anne said something yesterday that’s been bothering me.”

“What’s that?” Melanie prodded.

“She blamed me for her father’s death.”

Melanie rubbed her ear before taking a deep breath and exhaling. “Please don’t hold that against her. She’s still hurting over her dad’s death and doesn’t trust men very much.”

“But why would she blame me?” Scott spoke gently, trying to be sensitive to their loss. Trying to understand.

“It was an accident. Ben Stimpson warned Aaron to move our sheep, but Aaron wouldn’t listen.”

“Ben Stimpson, the previous ranger?”

Melanie nodded. “I didn’t know until after the accident that Aaron was grazing illegally on the forest. He moved one of our bands of sheep onto the grazing allotment twenty days early and Stimpson told him to move them or he’d have them moved for us. Stimpson said he’d sell them to pay the fine.”

Scott would have done the same, after one fair warning with enough time to move the sheep. “So what happened?”

She shrugged one slim shoulder. “Aaron wasn’t in any shape to move the flock. He… He’d been ill and went out during a thunderstorm.”

From Melanie’s hesitation, Scott couldn’t help wondering if Aaron McAllister had been drunk that night.

“I begged him to wait until the next day when some of our men could have helped, but we couldn’t afford to pay another fine. He was angry and wouldn’t listen to reason. Our herder found him the next morning. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. It was an accident.” Emotion thickened her words and she turned away, brushing at her eyes.

Scott longed to comfort her, but realized now wasn’t the time. Compassion settled in his chest. She’d obviously loved her husband and he couldn’t help wishing someone felt that way about him.

He shifted his weight and leaned against a fence post. “So now Anne blames the forest ranger—any forest ranger—for her dad’s death.”

Melanie’s mouth tightened, her eyes filled with sadness. “Yes. He died from a broken neck. His horse had a broken leg and had to be put down. We figure the animal stumbled or lightning spooked it. We’ll never know for sure.” She sighed heavily. “If Aaron had waited until morning, we would have had to pay a hefty fine…but he’d still be alive.”

“And what about Ben Stimpson?” He hated to push her, but longed to know exactly what the other ranger had done to spook her.

Her spine stiffened. “What about him?”

“Did he fine you for the sheep, even though your husband died trying to move them?”

Angry tears filled her eyes. “He was going to, but that’s when several men wearing ski masks paid him a visit in the middle of the night and threatened him. He and his family left town the next day.”

Something cold clutched at Scott’s heart. He figured Stimpson deserved to be chased out of town, but the thought of masked men coming to his house in the middle of the night and terrorizing Shelley didn’t sit well with him. “Who were the men?”

“I don’t know their identities, but as far as I’m concerned, they were my guardian angels.”

Her voice cracked and so did his heart. Scott sensed that she’d reached deep inside herself to tell him these things. Private feelings she probably hadn’t shared with many people. He wasn’t about to take her admissions lightly.

“I’m sorry, Melanie.” What else could he say? It wasn’t anyone’s fault Aaron died; it just happened. But that didn’t make Scott feel any better about the way Stimpson had treated the McAllisters.

“Anne’s just a child. One day, she’ll understand about her father,” Melanie explained.

Scott had doubts. “Traumatic events can scar children so they never forget. Shelley hasn’t said so, but I sense that she blames me for my divorce from her mom.”

He regretted his failings and wished more than anything that Shelley would forgive him.

Melanie gave a hoarse laugh. “It seems that you’re bearing the brunt of everyone’s blame these days.”

“I guess so.” He chuckled, the sound low and rumbly. Inside, he ached with regret.

“I didn’t mean to unload on you,” she confessed. “You’re the last person I should confide in.”

And yet, she had. Somehow it made him feel close to her, and he’d sworn never to get close to another woman again. Especially not a widowed rancher whose young daughter hated him.

Remembering his job and his purpose here in Snyderville, he stepped back. He must keep his relationship with Melanie McAllister completely professional. He had no room for friendship or romance in his life right now. He had to remember that.

“You shouldn’t be in here.” Anne eyed the strange girl as she stepped into the shadows of the lambing shed.

The black-and-white dog followed Shelley inside, and Anne pointed at the door while speaking in a stern tone. “Get out, Bob. You know you’re not supposed to be in the lambing sheds.”

Used to responding promptly to orders, Bob obeyed without even a whine.

Anne frowned when the girl didn’t turn and follow the dog out. “Who are you?”

“I’m Shelley. Your mom told me to come and help you feed the baby lambs.”

Anne stared at the girl’s long, bare legs, white sandals and blue-painted toenails. Maybe Mom would let her buy some blue nail polish the next time they went shopping in Evanston. All she had was pink and red. “You can’t feed lambs dressed like that.”

“Why not?” Shelley stepped backward into a pile of manure. Crinkling her nose with repugnance, she wiped her sandal off on a clean bed of straw before moving to stand over by the wall.

Anne shook her head in disgust, figuring she didn’t need to point out the obvious. “Where’d you come from?”

“My dad and I brought your mom a plate of chocolate chip cookies.”

That sounded nice. Cookies were okay with Anne. “Do you have sheep?”

Shelley shook her head. “No, but I have a cat named Wilson.”

Strange name for a cat. “Who’s your dad?”

“Scott Ennison.”

Anne scowled. She should have known. “You shouldn’t be back here.”

“Why not?”

“’Cause we’re enemies.”

Shelley’s eyes widened. “We are?”

“Yes. You’re Forest Service and I’m a rancher. Don’t you know anything?”

“I’m not Forest Service. I’m just a kid.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Anne scoffed. “Your dad’s the ranger.”

“So? Can’t we still be friends?”

Anne glared at her. “Of course not.”

“Why not?”

Anne searched her mind for a valid reason that didn’t sound childish. She tried to remember why her dad hated forest rangers so much, but he’d never really told her his reasons. Just that they forced him to graze his sheep where he didn’t want to graze them. Anne had hated it when Dad drank from his bottle because he got even angrier at the ranger. One time she had even climbed up the cupboard and hidden Dad’s bottle so he wouldn’t drink anymore. When he found it missing, he’d blamed Mom and slapped her across the face. Mom must have known it had been Anne who had taken the bottle, but she never said a word. Mom’s face and lips had been swollen for a week, making Anne feel guilty. Even now, she missed Daddy more than she could say. If he’d just come back home, she’d promise never to hide his bottle again.

When she realized that Shelley was still waiting for an answer, Anne shoved away the painful memories and faced her nemesis. “Your dad bosses my mom around.”

“You’re a liar. My dad’s nice. He helps ranchers.”

Anne pursed her lips when she saw the ugly glare on the other girl’s face. She didn’t want to fight with this stranger. Mom would find out and then she’d be in big trouble. “We’ll see.”

Shelley shrugged, then bent over to pet the fluffy wool of a two-month-old lamb. The little animal hurried by to get at the stalls where Anne was setting up the feeder. Eight pens divided the shed. Anne set out bottles with rubber nipples on a feeding rack, then opened the gate and brought in seven little lambs one at a time. The babies nuzzled up to suckle. One zipped past Shelley, its tail wagging like a whirling dervish as it latched on to a bottle with ferocity. Shelley gave a startled yelp.

“You don’t need to be afraid of them. They’re just hungry,” Anne said. “Haven’t you ever petted a lamb before?”

“No. They’re so soft.” Shelley’s eyes gleamed with happiness as she rubbed a lamb’s velvety ears.

“What are you, a city kid or something?”

Shelley shrugged, looking out of place in her girly skirt. Anne couldn’t help envying the other girl’s creamy complexion and blond hair. She figured Craig Eardley would pay more attention to her if she had Shelley’s blue eyes. Instead, Anne had bright red hair she kept pulled back in a ponytail, green eyes and freckles all over her face, even on her forehead. She could kick the ball off the blacktop at school and run fast, but the boys never chased her during kissing tag. She figured they’d chase after Shelley, though.

“What are their names?” Shelley asked.

“You can’t name them,” Anne scolded. “Why not?”

“Because we sell and eat them. Sheep are a cash crop. Don’t you know anything?”

Okay, that wasn’t entirely true. Mom told Anne not to name the lambs so she wouldn’t be sad if one of them died or if they sold them, but Anne did it anyway. Just a few of her favorite lambs.

“You eat them?” Shelley’s blue eyes widened with horror.

Anne laughed. “Nah, not really. Mom says we don’t eat our sheep. We just raise them for wool.”

“Oh, okay.” Shelley smiled with relief, bending over to snuggle one sweet, fuzzy lamb.

Anne didn’t want to like this girl, but she couldn’t help it. Shelley didn’t know much, but she seemed to love the lambs as much as Anne did. Obviously, Shelley needed someone to teach her what to do on a sheep ranch.

“Where’re their mothers?” Shelley asked.

“They don’t have moms. These are dogie lambs. They’re orphans.”

“Doggie lambs?”

“No, you’re saying it wrong. They’re not doggie lambs, like Bob is a dog. You say it like dough. Dough-gie lambs.”

Shelley repeated the word perfectly.

“Yeah, that’s what orphans are called.”

“Oh, that’s so sad.” Shelley hugged the lamb again as it tugged on the bottle.

Anne waved a hand in the air. “They’re okay. We take good care of them. They’re already nibbling hay and alfalfa pellets. Soon, we’ll be taking them out to graze in the paddock.”

The hungry lamb jerked, knocking Shelley back into the straw. The girl laughed. “What happened to their moms?”

“Some died, but sometimes the ewe has twins or triplets and she can only take care of one or two of her babies when she goes up to the summer pasture to graze. So we bring the smaller baby here to tend.”

“Then not all the moms died?”

“Of course not, silly.” Anne snickered. “You really don’t know much.”

“Then I guess I’m a dogie lamb, too.”

Anne raised her brow. “What do you mean?”

“My mom isn’t dead, but she doesn’t want me. My dad doesn’t think I know, but I do.”

Shelley sounded like she was about to cry. Anne felt like crying, too, but refused to let it show. Even when Dad had been alive, she’d had an empty feeling inside all the time. Like he didn’t really love or want her. Like he preferred his bottle to her and Mom. But she’d always had Mom to love her. How horrible not to be wanted by your own mother. “What mom doesn’t want her kid?”

Shelley scuffed a sandaled foot against the rough lumber of the feeding stall. “Mine doesn’t. She got married to Malcolm Henley the third, and he doesn’t like kids, so I have to live with Dad. I heard them arguing about it late one night when I was supposed to be asleep.” A glimmer of a smile touched her lips. “Dad can’t cook much, but at least he wants me. He got this new transfer to Snyderville and I had to leave all my old friends behind.”

Anne thought this over for a moment, biting her lower lip. Shelley didn’t have any friends, just like her. During recess, the kids at school called her the town drunk’s daughter and she’d learned to play by herself. “Then that makes you half a dogie because you still have your dad. I guess I’m a half dogie, too. My daddy died, but I still have Mom and she loves me lots.”

Tears glistened in Shelley’s eyes. “My dad loves me, too. I’m sorry we’re both half dogies.”

“Me, too.”

And right then, Anne knew it wasn’t Shelley’s fault that her father was the forest ranger. They had a lot in common. It got so lonely here at the ranch with no one but Mom and an occasional work hand to talk to. The herders were always nice to her, but Mom never left her alone with them and they really didn’t have anything in common with her. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to be a little bit nice to Shelley Ennison.

“Come on. I’ll show you how to feed the lambs. But next time you visit, you should wear blue jeans and boots.”

“I don’t have any boots.”

Anne shrugged. “Then just wear tennis shoes.”

She led Shelley into the next pen. Shelley held the bucket of milk while Anne used a funnel to fill seven bottles. Shelley seemed eager to help and Anne appreciated the company and the help with her chores. But she sure wished Shelley’s dad was a rancher instead of a ranger.