Page 33 of Heart of Mystic Valley
In his study, Grayson shuffled through a stack of papers on his desk. He found the document he was looking for—a neatly written proposal—and read it over one last time. The words were as firm and unyielding as the Montana landscape. He opposed the additional tax on businesses, advocating for donations and volunteer work instead. He slid the proposal into a leather folio and latched it shut.
From the window, he could see the expanse of Wild Spirit Ranch, some of the finest land in the territory. The Beckett family had carved this spread out of the wilderness, and every inch of it was steeped in their sweat and history. The thought of new taxes biting into their livelihood made his blood run hot.
“Gray,” called a voice from the hallway. It was his younger brother, Joshua, tall and lean as a prairie wind. “You heading out soon?”
Grayson stepped into the hall, folder in hand. “About to. Why?”
Joshua scratched at a two-day beard. “Thought I might come along. Got some business in town.”
“Business, huh? Wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain newspaper editor, would it?”
Joshua’s face broke into a sheepish grin. “Maybe. I’m certain Faith and her Women’s Alliance will be at the meeting, given what’s on the docket.”
Grayson nodded. “Suit yourself. I’ll be leaving shortly.”
He strapped the holster holding his six-shooter around his hips. Sliding the gun out, he checked the chamber, then tucked it back into place.
The folio in his hand felt heavier than normal. The proposal was solid, but the council had been stubborn about insisting raising taxes was the only way to raise the money for the schoolhouse expansion.
He walked back to the kitchen, where Jolene stood on tiptoes, stretching to put a mixing bowl on a high shelf. Grayson kissed her on the cheek. “Don’t wait supper. This meeting may take a while.”
She touched his arm, concern etching lines in her otherwise youthful face. “Just come home safe, Gray.”
“Always do,” he said, though they both knew it wasn’t a promise he could keep.
In the yard, Joshua sat atop his horse and was holding the reins of Grayson’s roan gelding. Grayson handed the leather folio to him as he mounted up.
The dirt trail from Wild Spirit Ranch to Mystic was well-worn, a familiar stretch of road connecting the Beckett clan tothe growing town. Grayson and Joshua rode side by side, the rhythm of hooves sounded a deliberate heartbeat.
“Faith’s in a tough spot, you know,” Joshua said after a stretch of silence. “If the new taxes pass, it’ll impact the smaller businesses the most.”
Grayson shot his brother a look. “You think I don’t know that? The ranch isn’t the only thing I’m worried about, Josh. Every business in town is stretched thin. That’s why my proposal has to pass.”
“It may be a hard sell if the council’s set on the taxes. They think it’s the quickest solution.”
“Quickest isn’t always best. And sometimes, the easy way out costs more in the long run. They’ll come around, you’ll see.”
Grayson was grateful Joshua let it go. He needed his focus on the task ahead, not on familial dissent. Though if he was honest, he valued Joshua’s blunt comments. His brother had a way of reading people Grayson sometimes lacked.
The landscape rolled by, a mosaic of varying orange colors. Tall grasses and scrub brush, the occasional stand of cottonwoods, all set against the distant mountains. A sharp wind cut through the valley, carrying with it the first hint of winter. Grayson pulled his coat tighter around his shoulders and thought of Jolene’s welcome when he returned after the meeting.
They lapsed into silence again, each man lost in his own thoughts. The bond between them was strong, forged in the same crucible of hard work and shared loss.
They moved their horses into a trot as the first buildings of Mystic came into view, the air buzzing with the murmur of a waiting crowd.
The main street of Mystic was a hive of activity. Townsfolk milled about, chatting in clusters and filling the air with a discordant hum. Grayson and Joshua dismounted in front of thetown hall, a modest two-story building used for a wide range of activities. They tied their horses to a rail and surveyed the scene.
“Looks like half the town’s turned out,” Joshua said, eyes scanning the crowd. “And not all of them in a friendly mood.”
Grayson followed his brother’s gaze. He could see the worried faces of shopkeepers, ranchers, and laborers. These were hardworking people, the backbone of Mystic, and many of them looked beleaguered. What caught his attention most, though, was a rather large group of women standing near the front of the crowd. The Mystic Women’s Alliance.
“Looks like the Alliance is out in force,” Joshua observed. “Think they’ll make a ruckus?”
Grayson shrugged. “They’ve got every right to be here. Probably more than most.”
Joshua arched a brow. “Thought you were unsure about the group Faith founded.”
Grayson sighed. “I’m not against the group. Many of them are business owners or work in their family’s shop or restaurant. We’ll see what happens once the meeting starts.”
