Page 7 of Steadfast

Making her way across the dirt driveway, she stopped to allow her ranch hand to pass ahead of her with a large bale of hay lying heavily on his shoulder.

“Sorry, Miss Maeve!”Colton always seemed to be apologizing for something.

She knew the young man was still trying to prove his worth and pay his penance after his involvement in Crew’s accident.

“If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times,” she said without hesitation, giving his arm a gentle squeeze as he passed. “We’re grateful for you, Colton.”

There was a time when she had admittedly been furious with them after her long established rules had been broken by those she had trusted. Even though they had failed so thoroughly, she firmly held onto the conviction that everyone deserved a second chance and, more often than not, even a third and fourth.

She yanked open the rusty door of the old blue ranch truck, and it gave a loud, familiar squeal. A billow of fine dust plumed into the air as she settled into the threadbare fabric seats. The worn steering wheel felt smooth in her palms.

Maeve loved that old Dodge.

The engine chugged with the sound of grinding metal as she cranked the key in the ignition.

“C’mon, old girl,” she whispered. It was becoming her daily pep talk with the struggling vehicle that was practically an honorary Callaway in its own right.

The encouragement must have helped. On the third twist of the key, the engine roared to life.

She carefully steered the truck down the long dirt driveway. Every pothole and rock along the way caused each metal joint and bolt to squeak shrilly. It was a tangible reminder that the road to Callaway Ranch had not been maintained in quite a while. Abel had always taken care of that particular task over the years, and it seemed to have slipped through the cracks on her long list of responsibilities.

Maeve had steadied herself the night before in the midst of their big wins, but the truth was—she was feeling the hollownessof Abel’s absence by her side in a way that she hadn’t in some time. Now, as she turned the truck onto the smoothly paved highway, she wondered what else she had allowed to fall by the wayside.

When she passed over the old bridge leading into town, she admired its fresh coat of paint. After decades of disrepair, the bridge was once again white, paying homage to the little mountain town it was named after. She was looking forward to once again seeing the steeple of the town church through the trees, a beacon of hope that had changed her life so long ago.

Another recent change was the seemingly endless line of brake lights leading into White Bridge. Maeve sighed, leaning her elbow on the driver’s side window and propping her head on her fist as each car inched toward Main Street at a glacial pace.

When she finally made it into town, she pulled hard on the steering wheel, guiding the truck into an empty parking spot in front of the shop. It was marked with a large sign that read:

Reserved

Maeve Callaway

Before she could even step foot out of the driver’s side door, there was a rap of knuckles on her truck’s window.

She stifled the eye roll that came almost instinctively when she recognized Sam standing beside her door wearing blue overalls and his usual snarl. She composed herself as she hand cranked the window down to see what he could possibly be demanding that day. One thing was for certain, his attitude was sore as ever.

“Well, well, Maeve Callaway,” Sam sneered, leaning his elbows on the window and edging a little too closely into her space. “And how’s Her Majesty likin’ her parking spot?”

Maeve sucked her teeth as she considered. When Oakleigh had insisted that she have her own reserved place to park, she knew it was going to be an issue with more than one member of the community.

“What can I do for you, Sam.”

“You can find me a place to park, that’s what you can do.” He waved his hands around theatrically, encompassing the packed street of cars. “You know very well we don’t have the infrastructure for all this!” Right on cue and accentuating his point was the sound of a loud car horn. Excited out of towners bolted across the street in front of moving cars to capture a quick selfie in front of the church that had become a trending social media project.

In this instance, Maeve knew that Sam wasn’t wrong. The town didn’t even have a single stop sign, let alone a traffic light.There was nothing to help organize the chaotic and seemingly endless flow of daily visitors.

“I’ll see what I can do,” she responded, attempting to simply pacify the cantankerous old man, although she wasn’t sure yet what the solution could possibly be.

“Maeve, you and me have had our issues over the years,” Sam wagged his finger at her once again, “but we both know that Abel would have reeled that Oakleigh in by now.”

“Sam.” Maeve bit her lip hard, restraining the callous words that threatened to fire back. Instead, she opted for a firm, gentle tone accompanied by a knowing look that conveyed he had crossed more than one of her boundaries with his statement.

“I’m certain that Abel would have been just as proud of Oakleigh as I am.” Ignoring his frown, she stepped out of the truck and pushed its heavy door closed. “Now come on in, and I’ll buy you a cup of coffee.”

“Eh, I don’t want none of your crummy coffee,” he replied, waving her away. “What I want is a place to park, Maeve. You better have this all figured out and quick.”

Maeve stepped up on the curb, examining the customers lined up out the door, down the street, and nearly around the block. Sam was right about one thing – they needed a solution, for everyone’s sake.

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