Read Online Rancher's Refuge (Whisper Falls) by Linda Goodnight - Free Book Online
Authors: Linda Goodnight
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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
“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
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