N. Walters - Strands of Love

Im sorry, Sam, but the bank is not willing to loan you any money at this time. Karen Simmons peered over her thick bifocals, a false expression of sympathy on her face. Your best option is to sell. The farm is too much for you to run on your own. From what I hear youve already sold off all the livestock. Sell before it gets so bad you lose everything.

Samantha Calloway was shaken to the core of her very being, but outwardly she projected the calm, in-control persona she always did. No way did she want Karen knowing how deep her words cut. The old witch had never liked Sam or her family anyway.

Slowly she stood and gave the loan officer a curt nod. Thank you for your time. She turned on a well-worn bootheel and walked out the office door, needing to get away from the annoying hum of the computer and the stale air. She needed to be outside where she could breathe, where she could think.

Sam yanked her fathers old John Deere hat out of her back pocket and pulled it on, yanking the brim low. She didnt want to talk to anyone right now. The low hush of the bank lobby set her nerves on edge and she had to fight the urge to stand in the center of the room and scream.

Like that would help. The manager Augie Rawlins would only call for the sheriff. Then Sheriff Pritchard would have to drag her off to jail and cite her for disturbing the peace. Wouldnt that set the tongues to wagging in this town?

No, better to keep quiet for now. She could do all the screaming she wanted as soon as she was home.

Home. If the bank had their way, Calloway Farm would soon be no more. How had it come to this?

Head down, Sam left the bank behind and hurried across the parking lot to her beat-up truck. It was only half past nine, but it was already hot. Shed lost the better part of the morning for this appointment and there were chores waiting to be done.

She ignored the twinge of pain in her chest and wondered how much longer shed be doing them. How much longer until she lost the land her family had farmed for three generations.

No, she would find a way. There had to be some other solution.

Sam. A male voice, one she easily recognized, called out to her.

Her steps slowed. He was the one person in this town shed stop for no matter how foul her mood. Taking a deep breath, she halted and turned toward the tall, lean man who came up beside her. Hey, Tim. Tim Lannon was her fathers best friend and the closest thing to an uncle shed ever known. And right now he and his wife were the only family she had left.

Well, what did they say? He jerked his head toward the bank. He knew all about her meeting with Karen. Shed talked with him about it, wanting his take on things. She often turned to him now that she was alone.

Sam shook her head and Tim swore under his breath. He stopped halfway through his tirade, his face turning red. Sorry about that, Sam. You didnt need to hear language like that.

Impulsively, she reached out and hugged him. Its exactly what I needed to hear, she assured him. Having someone upset on her behalf made her feet not quite so alone.

Tims strong arms tightened around her. Well figure something out, girl. Come over tonight and have dinner with Mary and me. You havent been over in ages and she misses you.

Mary was Tims wife of thirty years and a surrogate mother to Sam. As much as Sam loved both of them, right now she wanted to be alone to think. She pulled away and shook her head. Tell her thanks, but another time. Ive already lost the morning and Ive got a ton of things to do today.

Tim scowled, giving his bearded face a fierce expression. If she didnt know him, shed probably be half afraid of him. In fact, many folks in town were. But she knew his rough exterior hid a heart of gold for those he cared about. I wont be able to hold her off much longer, he warned.

Just the thought of Tims tiny wife bullying her into coming over for supper made her smile. And shed do it too, because when Mary Lannon put her mind to doing something, it got done. Okay, she relented. Ill come tonight.

Tims weather-beaten face brightened as he smiled. Thats a promise Ill hold you to, little girl.

Her heart ached at the term of endearment. Her father had always called her his little girl and Tim had picked up the nickname early in her life. Didnt matter that she was a fully grown woman and stood five eight in her stocking feet.

I gotta get going. Sam whirled and walked as fast as she could without running. She could feel Tims worried gaze on her as she climbed into her truck and headed out of town.

The window was cranked down and the hot Texas air buffeted her skin as she drove down Main Street. She passed the town limits and hit the single-lane blacktop that led toward home. At this time of the morning, this road was fairly empty. Anyone running errands in town was already there and everyone else was working their spreadseither farming crops or raising cattle.

She passed one lone driver and he raised his hand in greeting. She tooted her horn in return. Everyone knew everyone around Mission Gulch. Like her, many of her neighbors were hanging onto their homes by a shoestring. It was tough all the way around.

She pulled off the road and onto a dirt one, signifying she was home. Her grandfather Horace Calloway had started Calloway Farm back in the fifties. His only son Calvin had taken over in the early eighties. It was supposed to be her brother Johns turn next. But a war and a roadside bomb in Afghanistan had ended that dream.

Sam parked the truck in front of the white clapboard house and stared. What once had been a home, ringing with laughter and voices, was now silent. A house, not a home.

After Johns untimely death, her father had worked himself even harder. Worked himself to death as far as she was concerned. Hed had a massive heart attack six months later and dropped dead in the middle of the wheat field. Shed gone looking for him when he hadnt turned up for supper and had found him there. It had been too late to save him. Hed been dead for hours.

Her mother, already battling cancer, had given up the fight. Sam had buried her eight months ago.

Thinking about it doesnt change it. She spoke aloud to give herself a pep talk. It didnt work. Still, shed had a work ethic drilled into her from the cradle. There were chores to do and sitting here thinking about them wasnt going to get them done.

She climbed out of the truck and drank in the silence that surrounded her, the peace of the land. It was so quiet here now. Shed sold off the last of the cattle and the horses just after her mothers death. The medical bills had almost broken her. But shed found a way to keep her home. The farm had shrunk from five hundred acres to one hundred after shed sold off some of the land. The price hadnt been as high as shed hoped, but it had paid off the worst of the bills and kept the creditors from the door.

Sam didnt bother going into the house, but headed for the barn instead. She was already wearing jeans and a T-shirt. Maybe she should have dressed up to go to her meeting at the bank, but she hadnt seen the point. Those who worked there knew most of the money in the area came from farming of one kind or another.

The yard was dusty and she squinted toward the horizon, wondering if there would be any rain today. The cloudless sky made her heart sink. If it didnt rain soon shed lose the wheat and hay crop, as well as her experimental fields of sweet corn and green onions.

An experiment is all it will ever be if the bank has its way, she muttered. With the smaller size of her spread, shed decided to try some new crops that other farmers in the area were having success with. If she could get the crop to grow, she could make more money on it than with the traditional wheat and hay her father had always planted to supplement the cattle.