Page 3 of Silos and Sabotage

Ella blinked away the dampness, trying to bring his features back into focus. “At the diner?”

The cowpoke raised his eyebrows at her. “Is there somewhere else you’d rather go?”

“No, sir.” She shook her head weakly. “The diner would be great.” Anything would be better than lying in a scorching ditch filled with rocks, sand, and rattlesnakes.

He reached for her hand and hauled her upright in the seat beside him. She continued to sip on the water bottle he handed her as he started rolling the truck forward. He eventually found a large gravel pullout to turn around in.

They passed grain silos on both sides of the road, tall silver ones on her right and even taller stone and concrete ones on her left. Each of the silver ones had some sort of logo painted on their domed roofs. A black logo. She couldn’t read it from where she was sitting. The stone silos to her left had a red logo painted on the sides facing the road, which she could read.Radcliffe Industries.Something about the name felt vaguely familiar.

A half mile or so further down the road, they passed a city limit sign for Heart Lake. The silos disappeared in her side view mirror.Heart Lake.She repeated the name inside her head. It had a lovely ring to it that suited the gorgeous slice of countryside to perfection. All but the lake part. She didn’t note so much as the trickle of a creek nearby. The town was tucked into a set of rolling foothills. Craggy mountains rose in the distance.

The land soon leveled out and stretched into a mesa nestled between the mountains. Houses dotted the mesa on both sides of the road. Then an enormous lake drew into view, and the name of the town suddenly made more sense. Blue waters rippled and sparkled for as far as she could see. The spire of a white church cast an elongated reflection into the water, stirring a layer of deep-seated resentment.

Eh…great.

She slumped in her seat at the realization that she was angry with God. About what, she had no clue. It didn’t feel like a very solid plan, though, to be at odds with the Maker of the universe and everything in it. She would figure it out…eventually.

It might help to pinpoint exactly where on the map she was, but she didn’t dare ask her driver. She didn’t want to alert him to just how lost she was. Nor did she wish for him to reinstate his offer to call an ambulance.

About another mile or so down the road, the lake disappeared and a quaint downtown district appeared. They passed a red-brick police station and a few plaza strips of storefronts. Around the next bend, Jim turned into the parking lot of a cozy little diner. He rolled to a stop, taking up the entire row of painted parking spots closest to the road. Leaning her way, he stuffed a crinkled ten-dollar bill into her hand. “Get you somethin’ to eat and call home,” he urged kindly.

“Thank you. Thank you so much!” Despite downing most of the bottle of water, she still felt weak as she pushed open the door and started to climb out of his truck. If she hadn’t been so dehydrated, she probably would’ve started blubbering crocodile tears of gratitude as he hopped down, jogged around the front of the truck, and helped her to the ground.

A glance at the trailer revealed that she’d been riding in a grain truck. No surprise there, considering all the silos they’d passed along the way. The grass green cab was hauling a white grain car. Since there was no cover on it, the breeze was kicking up grain dust and making it swirl around them. The lack of a cover probably also meant he’d recently acquired his load and wasn’t taking it far.

Jim gave her a friendly wave as he climbed back into his cab. He rolled down his window and repeated, “Call home.” Then he drove off.

Home.Ella swayed a little as she turned around and tottered toward the diner. Unfortunately, she had no idea where home was. It wasn’t in Heart Lake, that was for sure.

The Hitching Post looked new. The exterior was multi-colored stone in mostly brown and beige hues. Dark brown metal awnings slanted outward over its windows and glass entrance door.

It took more effort than it should have to push open the door. A flyer was taped to the inside of it, advertising an upcoming autumn festival. The date for the event was October. She blinked at the year listed.Five years from now?Surely, it was a typo!

Shaking her head, she moved through the empty L-shaped line that was roped off against the wall. At the end of it, she reached an unmanned hostess booth. Beside it was a white acrylic sign, mounted to a gold metal stand. It read in bold black letters,Seat Yourself.

I can do that.Her gaze briefly roved the room, taking in the collection of square wooden tables and chairs scattered across the room.

A long, brown button leather bench was built into the far wall, with more tables pushed up to it. Bar stools facing the food preparation counter provided yet more seating. Most of them were empty.

The walls were covered with a cozy shade of textured taupe paint and a collection of western decor — saddles, spurs, longhorns, and a mural of the lake that Jim had driven her past. The ceiling displayed open beams, and the cathedral roof above them was lined with cedar planks.

The atmosphere was so homey and inviting that a lump of longing formed in Ella’s throat. She still couldn’t remember where home was. She shuffled her feet further into the dining area and scanned the room for Gage Hefner. As she selected a seat as far from the entrance as possible, she didn’t see anyone who fit his description. Pressing her back against the brown leather cushion, she faced the door with a pounding heart, half expecting the guy who’d been trailing her on the road to burst into the diner.

There were only a few other customers present —three elderly farmers in overalls who gave her curious looks and nods, and a younger cowboy sitting in the middle of the room with his back to her. Though he hadn’t looked up from his cell phone when she’d walked past him, she’d sensed awareness radiating from him.

Or maybe she’d imagined it.

As she settled in to wait for Gage Hefner to make his appearance, a smiling young woman in a white shirt and brown apron tied over her jeans approached Ella’s table. Her honey-brown hair was piled on top of her head, and her smile was the kind that made a person want to smile back.

“Hey, there! I’m Casey, and you look thirsty.” There was no pad of paper in her hands. No pen, either. She might be young, but she was old-school when it came to taking orders. It appeared she intended to commit Ella’s requests to memory.

“I’d like a glass of water, please.” Ella felt a smile curve her lips. It was impossible to hold it back. “With lemon, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“Not at all.” Casey pointed a long, white-lacquered fingernail at a stack of menus wedged behind the condiments stand in the center of the table. “If you’re hungry, our daily special includes two eggs any way you like, a side of bacon or sausage, and a side of pancakes, hash browns, or grits. Our coffee is complimentary.”

“Oh, wow! That’s a lot of food.” Ella doubted her stomach could hold that much.

Casey made a sound of derision. “Not according to the locals. A few minutes ago, one of them actually insisted he would starve to death if I didn’t double his order. For free!” She jammed a thumb, half laughing and half irritated, in the direction of the man in question.

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