Rancher's Refuge (Whisper Falls) (5 page)

Uncle Digger, along with Evelyn, or Miss Evelyn as she was known to the locals, also kept the depot museum in shape and knew practically everything about the town’s history. When his wife wasn’t around, Uncle Digger served up coffee and premade sandwiches, fruit and snacks, and of course, Miss Evelyn’s almost-famous homemade pie along with a hearty dose of country wisdom.

Even though Austin steered clear of too much community involvement, he got a kick out of visiting with Uncle Digger. In striped overalls and a gold-braided conductor’s cap, the portly gent was a little wise, a little crazy and moved with the speed of a turtle. To him, the world of railroad dominance had never ended so he lived and breathed railroad history.

“Been busy.” Austin threw a leg over a bar stool and removed his hat.

“So’s I heard.”

“That right?”

“Cassie was in earlier. Her and Evelyn’s got themselves a full head of steam over the beautifying committee.” He said all this without moving a muscle other than the furry mustache draped around his mouth like a squirrel’s tail.

“The town looks good.” Not that Austin paid much attention to flowerpots and such.

“Sure enough does. Right on track for Pumpkin Fest. I’m telling you, son, internet marketing is a pure marvel. A few years back no one had ever heard of Whisper Falls, and now the motels are filled up all summer. Then come December, folks show up again for an old-fashioned mountain Christmas. Yes, sir, prayer is a powerful thing.”

Austin’s lips twitched, although whether in amusement or cynicism, he couldn’t say. “Prayer or marketing?”

Uncle Digger chuckled. “Well, now, son, the Lord expects us to use whatever He gives us. It just took us a while to figure out how to do that.”

“The story about praying under the waterfall was your idea, right?”

“Well, mine and Evelyn’s. And the good Lord’s, of course. Pudge Loggins started the whole thing. Me and Evelyn, we just stoked the coals.”

“What did Pudge have to do with it?” Austin had purchased fishing lures from Pudge Loggins’s bait and tackle shop. He was an affable guy, round as a barrel, with enormous black plastic glasses and a habit of laughing at the end of every sentence.

“Well, now, here’s the deal.” Uncle Digger stroked his mustache and settled his elbow on the counter, eager to spin the tale. “Old Pudge, he’d all but given up on getting a bank loan to open his store. The banker said the economy was bad. He claimed that Whisper Falls, which was plain old Millerville back then, needed a fishing store like a Rockerfeller needs another penny. Poor old Pudge, his caboose was dragging, let me tell you.”

The wooden door creaked open and a customer entered the Iron Horse.

“Mayor,” Digger said and nodded once but stayed put at the counter.

“Uncle Digger.” The boyish mayor took a doughnut from a glass display case, poured himself a cup of coffee and settled at a table where the weekly newspaper was already spread open.

Paying the customer no further attention, Uncle Digger went on with the tale.

“One day Pudge was out roaming the woods, feeling sorry for himself when all of a sudden he got the notion to climb down behind the falls. Folks say he was going to jump in but that’s not the way Pudge tells it.”

“You think he would have?” Had Annalisa considered the same thing? Was that her reason for climbing down the ledge? Was she that depressed? The notion filled him with a new worry. Depression was an evil malady.

“Nah, not Pudge. He’s too scared of Ruby Faye to drown himself.” Uncle Digger paused to chuckle at his own joke. “Anyhoo, he says he never understood why, but just like that, the biggest urge came over him to pray.”

Austin controlled the need to roll his eyes. He’d had the same urges once upon a time. Fat lot of good they’d done him.

“So he did,” Uncle Digger went on. “He told the Big Conductor in the Sky about how he wanted that little store and all. And wouldn’t you know it? By the time he got back to town, still dripping wet and lower than a train tunnel, the banker was calling him on the phone.”

“To approve the loan?”

Uncle Digger nodded. “Sure enough. And afterward, Pudge told everybody about praying under the waterfall right before the call. Pretty soon there was a trail of folks headed that way in search of a miracle. Before we knew it, prayers were getting answered all over the place.”

In spite of a strong dose of skepticism, Austin asked, “What kind of prayers?”

Uncle Digger rubbed his craggy jaw. “Well, let’s see. Mary and Dale Craddock’s marriage was derailed, gone plumb off the track and ready to call it quits. Then Mary went up there to pray and next thing you know, they’re off to Hawaii on a second honeymoon.”

“Could have been a coincidence.”

Uncle Digger arched an eyebrow. “Coincidence? Why, Austin, don’t you know a coincidence is just a case of God remaining anonymous?”

“Hadn’t heard that one.” Didn’t believe it, either.

“Yes, sir. The Lord’s working on our behalf all the time. If we ain’t asleep at the wheel, we’ll notice. And that, my boy, is how me and Evelyn came up with the idea.”

The marketing strategy was harmless, Austin supposed, but it seemed less than honest to him.

“Everyone needs the Lord’s help. Sometimes they just don’t know how to find it. So we figured to do our part in steering folks in the right direction. The Good Book says that God’s people perish for a lack of knowledge. By putting the testimonies of answered prayers out on the internet, folks can learn and get their needs met. Why, it’s a beautiful thing.”

The cynic in Austin had to say, “In other words, you lure people to Whisper Falls with tales of answered prayers, all the while hoping they’ll stay for a burger or a ride on the train.”

Uncle Digger stroked his mustache. “I see you’re a doubter. Used to be one myself ’til God and that pretty little woman of mine got hold of me. Just you remember, if the Big Conductor is driving the train, everything’s going to work out for the best.”

If ever Austin doubted anything, he doubted that. He’d been down a road where nothing worked out, where evil prevailed and no amount of prayer or begging God made a bit of difference.

Uncle Digger gestured toward the pie case. “I guess you’re wanting some of Evelyn’s pie.”

Relieved to move past the uncomfortable subject of prayer, Austin nodded. “Milk, too, if you have it.”

“I surely do. Anything in a package or a can, I probably got it.” With the pace of a snail, Uncle Digger slid a presliced pie from the pie case. Three slices were already gone and the perfectly browned crust oozed cinnamon-scented apples. “Too bad that sister of yours can’t cook.”

“She can. A little. But she won’t.”

“Never find a man that way.”

“She’s not looking.”

“Sure she is. She just don’t know it. You are, too. A man without a good woman is only going through the motions.”

Austin pointed a finger. “Now wait a minute, Uncle Digger.”

Uncle Digger waved a spatula at him. “Simmer down, son. I didn’t mean no harm. Tell me all about her.”

“Cassie?”

Uncle Digger snorted. “That pretty gal you found under Whisper Falls. Exciting tale, right there. Reckon she’ll give us a testimony for the website?”

News traveled fast in small towns, but Austin had no intention of sharing Annalisa’s problems with anyone. He sure didn’t want anybody knowing about his.

“Not much to tell. Her name’s Annalisa Keller. She’s alone and looking for work. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Work, you say? Well, let me think.” Uncle Digger paused with spatula hiked in the air like a fly swatter while Austin’s mouth watered at the sight of that crusty pie, so close and yet still several minutes away. There was no use rushing Uncle Digger. Only Miss Evelyn could do that.

The door opened again and an unfamiliar family of four came inside. A man in khaki shorts asked, “When is the next train ride?”

“Tomorrow morning, ten-thirty sharp. Just like always.” Uncle Digger motioned the spatula toward the cash register. “You want to buy tickets today? You get a little discount for buying in advance.”

“Might as well.”

Austin’s hopes for pie dwindled as Uncle Digger left the pie case in favor of a ticket sale. He considered retrieving the slice for himself, and then he thought about going down to the drive-in restaurant instead. Before he could make up his mind, other customers filtered in and behind them came the energetic, rosy-cheeked Miss Evelyn. In a whirlwind of activity, she bustled into the snack shop. That was Miss Evelyn’s way. Where Uncle Digger moved as slow as a sloth, Miss Evelyn fidgeted and hurried, buzzing around like a bee after honey.

She breezed behind the counter, pecked a grinning Uncle Digger on the cheek, and asked, “Is he getting you some pie, Austin?”

“I keep hoping.”

Evelyn cackled at his attempted humor and headed for the pie case to scoop out the slice he’d been dreaming about. “Milk, too?”

“Yes, ma’am. Thank you.”

“I was getting it,” Uncle Digger hollered, although he appeared rooted in one spot next to the ticket window.

“Never you mind, honey. We don’t want the boy to starve to death. You go right on with what you’re doing.” She gave Austin a conspiratorial wink.

“Thanks, Miss Evelyn. Uncle Digger tells me you and Cassie are hard at work cleaning up Whisper Falls.”

“We’re doing our best. Your sister is a bundle of energy, and she has a thumb almost as green as mine.” Evelyn slid the pie and milk in front of him along with a fork and napkin before moving on to the next customer. She could have a roomful of people served before Uncle Digger got his hands out of his pockets.

“I met your pretty visitor,” she went on. “Annalisa. Isn’t that the prettiest name, Digger?” The old man bobbed his head but didn’t get a chance to speak. “Poor little thing with that broken arm. She’s in a bad fix, that’s for sure. Bless her heart.”

Austin cut a bite of pie with the side of his fork and listened while Miss Evelyn dispensed soft drinks from the fountain for a local man and his two children. “Here you go, hon. Orange for Paige and grape for Nathan.”

Austin had seen the trio before but couldn’t place them. The man was lean and lanky and probably about Austin’s age. The kids were cute, neat and clean in jeans and Ts. The little girl’s hand-over-mouth giggle made Austin smile.

When the boy wrapped his arms around his daddy’s neck and gushed, “You’re the best dad ever,” Austin got a catch in his throat. Like Cassie, Austin had wanted children and like her, life had knocked his hat in the dirt. There was still hope for Cassie to find someone and start fresh. As for himself, he wouldn’t go there again. Not after Blair.

Suddenly, Uncle Digger was back, leaning across the counter. “How’s the pie?”

“The best.”

“Does that houseguest of yours know her way around a kitchen?”

They were back to Annalisa again. Austin shoved the last bite of sweet tender apple into his mouth, chewed and swallowed. “Better than Cassie. Why? Could you use her here in the snack shop?”

“Possibly, but she’ll have to talk to the head engineer about that.” Uncle Digger nudged his chin toward his wife. “She makes all the smart decisions. I just drive the train.”

Evelyn swatted a dish towel at him. “Silly goose,” she said with affection, her apple cheeks rosy, “I already told Annalisa to stop in after Cassie does her hair. We’ll put our heads together and see what we can come up with.”

Austin finished his milk and pulled out his wallet. “You don’t even know her. Why put yourself out?”

“You didn’t know her, either, but you stepped right up to the plate.” She took his money and punched keys on the old-fashioned cash register. The drawer popped out with a
ca-ching
. “She’s a good person. You can tell by the eyes. They’re the windows to the soul, you know. Annalisa has good eyes. Kind of sad but pure-hearted. Real pretty girl, too, don’t you think?”

Austin wasn’t going to answer that.

“Did she tell you how she broke her arm?” He considered warning the older couple about the abusive boyfriend but figured that was Annalisa’s place.

“Cassie said something about a fall. Bless her heart. These rocks and hills can be treacherous. Good thing we have Creed Carter and his helicopter. Why, only last week he flew Mildred Laird to Hot Springs for hip surgery.”

Austin didn’t bother to mention that other than the pilot’s usefulness, an octogenarian falling in the bathtub was not the least connected to treacherous rocks. As far as he was concerned, Creed Carter and his chopper could fly to Mars and never come back.

“I wish he’d stick to medi-flights,” he mumbled.

“Why, Austin Blackwell, tourists love the helicopter rides. That boy had a brilliant idea to fly folks over Whisper Falls and around the Ozarks.”

Personally, Austin hated the noise, swooping down over his cows and pasture land all hours of the day and night.

“To hear him tell it,” Uncle Digger said, “Creed Carter is living a dream. Just like us here at the depot, his business gets better all the time.”

Figured. Before long, the town would be as crowded as Las Vegas with billboards and lights flashing and traffic backed up to the state line. He shuddered at the thought. “Thanks for the pie, Miss Evelyn.”

“Still the best you ever tasted?”

He jammed his hat down on his head. “Yes, ma’am. Better than my grandma’s.”

She beamed. “I can’t for the life of me see how you stay single. A handsome cowboy like you with such a silver tongue. Lands a-mercy. Have you met Fawna Jefferson?”

“Evelyn, quit your matchmaking,” Uncle Digger said from his spot next to the two children. “Fawna ain’t Austin’s type. She’s scared silly of animals. The gal nearly derailed when little Jamie Bagley brought a turtle to her fourth-grade classroom. She’d faint smooth away at the sight of a cow or horse.”

Austin’s thoughts slid to Annalisa stroking Cisco’s nose and the three dogs vying for her attention. She might be afraid of her boyfriend and maybe even of him, but she and animals got along fine.

Not that he cared one way or the other about Annalisa and his animals. Fact of the matter, he didn’t know why he was thinking about his houseguest in the first place. The woman was taking up too much room inside his head.