Meet Evelyn Bennett. She's a city girl. A nurse. Completely out of her element on a rural Idaho ranch in the middle of nowhere. She was just doing her job—caring for a man foolish enough to blow himself up with dynamite. But to do that job properly, she needed to whip three bachelor brothers into shape and scrub their filthy house from top to bottom. Otherwise, the man she was charged with healing would never survive his own home, let alone his injuries. In this week's excerpt, Evelyn has been scrubbing for days. She's attacked ash and grime, fought off a vicious rooster, been kicked by a cow, and transformed that neglected house into something livable. She's finally hauling out the ash bucket, probably feeling pretty accomplished... And then the wind decides to remind her who's boss. Wind chose that moment to gust. Ash exploded back in her face, coating her dress, her hair, everything she'd just cleaned behind her. She stood frozen, arms still extended, looking like she'd been rolled in dirty flour. The laugh burst from Gary's chest before he could stop it. Real laughter, not the bitter bark he'd perfected lately. It pulled at his ribs, sent lightning through his side, but he couldn't stop. Tears leaked from his eyes as she turned, grey from head to toe except for two wide blue eyes. He expected tears. Or cursing. Or that particular female fury that sent men running for the barn. Instead, she set down the bucket, walked inside, picked up a rag, and started cleaning again. Maybe she's not soft after all. We all have that Evelyn grit in us. You know those moments when everything goes sideways? When your carefully laid plans literally blow up in your face? I planted my first garden at this house six years ago. Spent a whole weekend getting it perfect—seedlings, stakes, twine for the tomatoes to climb. Monday, I went to work feeling accomplished. When I came home, stubs and dirt. The deer had eaten everything. Yes, my husband laughed at me too for not realizing my blunder. I could have given up right then. But I didn't. Instead, my husband and I built a greenhouse from scrap lumber and kept trying. Wrong plastic the first time? Covered it again. Each year brings more improvements, and I never give up. That's Evelyn. If she'd broken down when that ash blew back in her face—if she'd thrown up her hands—she would have left that house in filth, completely inappropriate for a man healing from serious injuries. But she didn't break. She picked up a rag and started over. That's the kind of woman who survives in 1920s Idaho. That's the kind of woman who might just be exactly what the McAllister brothers need. Want to see what happens next? Watch for The Rancher's Healing at Pack Saddle Ranch in early November. Until next week—keep scrubbing, even when life blows back in your face. |
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