A Soldier’s Promise

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Chapter 1

The silver twilight gave way to night even as the forecasted snow began to fall, small scattered flakes that quickly became a steady stream of white. With Christmas just one week away, the days were short and the Montana nights long.

Savannah felt swamped with dread as she gave Mitch a pat. Nothing could happen to the four-year-old border collie Australian shepherd mix, not on her watch. But he wasn’t himself, and Savannah was upset with herself for not taking him into the vet earlier, even though Rye and Ansley had said they didn’t think it was necessary. Rye thought Mitch was just moping, but she knew Mitch pretty well and she’d never seen him like this. No, not true. He’d been like this when Noah died, which is how Mitch ended up in Montana. Savannah had had to do something with Mitch, and she brought him here where he could start over. Mitch had, picking his own people, in this case Rye and Ansley. But with them gone, Mitch must think he’d been abandoned. Again.

Savannah adjusted the throw pillow behind her back, trying to get comfortable on the floor where she sat with the dog, her hand on his lean back, his black and white fur soft beneath her palm. She curled her fingers into the fluff, emotion tightening her chest. Poor Mitch. He’d been through so much in the past year, and he’d handled all the changes well—until now.

Yesterday, after Ansley and Rye left for the Campbell’s family Christmas in Texas, Mitch sat all day by the front door waiting for Rye to return. When Rye didn’t return, Mitch slept by the door, keeping vigil. It’d been tough to leave him there when Savannah went to bed last night, but Rye had assured her that Mitch would be himself in the morning. But he wasn’t.

She did get him outside, though, and then put his breakfast down. He ignored the food bowl, lapped once at the water bowl and then lay down in front of the gas fireplace that warmed the open kitchen and family room. Mitch didn’t appear to be enjoying the fire’s warmth, though. He sighed heavily earlier, a long pathetic sigh, and now seemed to have given up.

Savannah stroked Mitch again, brow furrowing as she glanced out the window. The porch light reflected off the snow outside. It was falling hard, a white curtain that made it impossible to see anything through the thick flakes, including the colorful Christmas lights wrapping the roofline. Guilt ate at her. She should have taken Mitch in to the vet earlier, before the snow had started. She should have listened to her gut. Instead, she was here, feeling helpless and worried sick.

She’d called Ansley a couple hours ago and Ansley put Rye on the phone only for tough, no nonsense Rye to say he didn’t think anything was seriously wrong with the Shepherd, but if in the morning Mitch was still not eating, then take him in to see Dr. X in town.

Savannah couldn’t wait for it to be morning.

“Everything is okay,” she said, smoothing Mitch’s silky, fluffy fur.

Mitch didn’t look at her. He didn’t even open his eyes. He just seemed too tired, a fatigue she could relate to at this point in her pregnancy. She was thirty-seven weeks. Baby would be here January 9^th, if she arrived on time. The Johnsons had already booked a hotel room at The Graff in anticipation of the second week of January, not wanting to risk being too far away when she went into labor. They’d be good parents for her baby. They’d give her everything a child could possibly need—stability, security, attention, love.

“What’s your excuse?” Savannah whispered huskily, rubbing one of Mitch’s ears. “You’re young, fit, healthy. Be happy, please?”

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Her phone vibrated and Savannah pulled it out of her big sweatshirt’s pocket. It was Ansley. Good.

How is everything going? Ansley texted.

We’re surviving, Savannah replied.

And Mitch? Ansley asked.

Savannah glanced at the dog and then answered. The same.

Okay. I’m going to see if my brother can stop and have a look at him. We will figure this out.

Savannah frowned before adding. I thought Lachlan went to Texas with you.

He did, Ansley replied. I’m talking about Finn. He just arrived.

Finn Campbell turned south onto Highway 18 and increased the speed of the windshield wipers. The snow was coming down in a dizzying sheet of white. The wind didn’t help, and Finn was glad his brother Lachlan had left his big four-wheel-drive truck at the Bozeman airport for him.

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Lachlan had flown out with Rye and Ansley and Uncle Clyde yesterday for Christmas on the Campbell Ranch in Texas. Finn had flown in an hour ago to stay at the Montana Campbell Ranch for the next couple of weeks. He had a list of work to do, including updating the old farmhouse’s security system and adding a medical alert system for his uncle and the various caregivers, although Finn wasn’t sure how well a cellular based alert system would work in snow and windstorms. But Lachlan had done the research and Finn was happy to install it, as the last place he wanted to be was in Texas with the whole Campbell family for a ‘proper Campbell Christmas.’

Finn liked Christmas, too. From the time he was young, he’d looked forward to Christmas. But after the huge fight he’d had with his dad in August, things weren’t the same at the ranch, not when his dad wouldn’t look at him or speak to him, apparently waiting for Finn to apologize. But Finn hadn’t started the fight, and he hadn’t done anything wrong standing up for himself, and he wasn’t going to be the first to reach out and make amends. Despite what his brothers and mother said. Only Ansley had sympathized with his position and had said she supported whatever he wanted to do.

That was how he’d ended up in Montana for the holidays. Ansley suggested Finn spend some time in Marietta and Paradise Valley, keeping an eye on her home and the Campbell farmhouse. Uncle Clyde didn’t keep horses or cattle on his property anymore, instead leasing out the land to the neighbor ranch owned by the Wyatts. Finn liked the idea of doing something different for the next month before flying to the Middle East to begin an eighteen-month contracting job as a private soldier.

He’d done it before, and he’d made really good money. His parents were relieved when the contract ended and he returned to Texas in one piece. As his father said, it was one thing for Finn to serve in the military, spending seven years following orders, taking on dangerous missions, putting off his own goals and dreams to ensure the safety of America. But it was entirely another to choose to work in an incredibly volatile environment just for money. “It shows disrespect for your family, particularly your mother,” his father had said, losing his temper. “She’s spent her life pouring herself into raising you kids. Don’t make her suffer just because you’re an adrenaline junkie.”

After the conversation—if it could even be called a conversation—things just got worse. Finn was tough, and he knew how to survive stressful conditions, but he didn’t like tension and discord at home, not in his home. But the Campbell family ranch in Las Stand wasn’t truly Finn’s home anymore. He was an adult, and he’d spent the last eleven years living away, first at college, then in the service, and finally his first contract assignment overseas. He’d only been back in Last Stand for six weeks when he and his dad got into it, and everyone in the family assumed it would blow over, but it was nearly Christmas and Dad was still not speaking to Finn, or looking at him, or acknowledging his existence.

The only other time Callen Campbell had held a grudge this long was when his only brother ‘stole’ Callen’s girl while Callen was enlisted and serving overseas. Callen was still not talking to Clyde, which is why Clyde was spending Christmas in Texas with the family this year. Finn’s mom was determined to see the brothers make up before Clyde died, which could be any day now.

With Clyde in Texas it felt most appropriate for Finn to head to Montana, and so here he was, wearing his brother’s heavy sheepskin jacket, driving his brother’s truck, and heading to what was now, more or less, his brother’s home. Lachlan liked the land, and was working toward getting the Campbell ranch in Paradise Valley up and running without the Wyatt’s help.

His phone, already hooked up to the truck’s Bluetooth, rang. Finn glanced at the big touchscreen infotainment system in Lachlan’s truck and seeing it was Ansley, he touched the screen, taking the call. “Hey Ansley, how’s it going at the old family homestead?”

“Dad isn’t happy that Uncle Clyde is here, but he’s pretending to be in a good mood but failing.” She paused. “Personally, I think he’s more upset that you’re not here than he is about Uncle Clyde’s arrival.”

“Dad had months to fix things with me.”

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“Dad doesn’t like to apologize.”

“Which is why I’m doing Christmas in Montana. I’m looking forward to it, too. I’ve only been here that once when we came out to meet Rye a couple years ago, so it’ll be fun having a white Christmas this year.”

“You do know Mom wanted everyone here this year. Having the whole family here this year was a big deal to her.”

“Mom will be fine. I was there most of the summer and all fall and we all know there will be less tension with me here. It’s hard to feel festive with Dad playing the Ice Man.”

“It’s just because you and Dad are so alike.”

“We’re nothing alike—”

“Oh, Finn. You are two peas in a pod—”

“I will hang up on you.”

Ansley laughed, a bright peal of sound. “See what I mean? You and dad are hotheads. But let’s change the subject. Where are you?”

“I’m on the outskirts of Marietta, I think. Missed the last road sign. The snow is really coming down.”

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“Savannah said it was a big storm. I wasn’t sure what the conditions were.”

“Pretty much white out, but Lachlan left me some great wheels, so I’m okay. And for your information, I’m not a hotheads,”

“You are absolutely a hothead, perhaps the biggest hothead, which is why I’m totally okay with you in Montana while the rest of us gather here. No one needs drama this Christmas, not with everyone trying so hard to get Uncle Clyde and Dad to reconcile.” She hesitated. “Can you do a favor for me? Check in on our dog, Mitch, on your way to the ranch? Apparently, he’s not eating and drinking, which is not typical Mitch. He’s an Australian collie mix with endless energy and Rye knows you handled dogs in the military and thought you might be able to make an assessment. Our dog sitter is worried about him and with the storm, we don’t want her driving unless necessary.”

“Happy to stop. I think I have your address. What’s your dog sitter’s name?”

“Savannah.”

“Can you give her a heads up that I’m coming?”

“I already have. And thanks Finn. Rye and I really appreciate it.”

“No problem.”

“You’ll report back?”

“Promise.”

end of excerpt