Eli pulled his cell from the back pocket of his jeans, opened the app and read the comment for himself. His grip tightened around the phone, his fingers shaking with rage. He could feel the anger bubbling up inside of him.
“We need to do something about this,” he said, his voice tight with emotion. “We can’t just let her be attacked like this.”
Gunner and Jaxon nodded in agreement, their own anger palpable in the air.
Eli’s hand shook as he scrolled through the poster’s account, finding nothing but blank posts. “Looks like a throwaway account,” he said, his voice thick with anger. “Fucking coward.”
Gunner asked, “Any followers of the account?”
“No,” Eli said. “No profile picture either.”
Gunner shook his head in clear frustration. “This makes no sense. Who would do this to her?”
Eli felt the weight of the moment settle on his shoulders. He knew what she was up against—the whispers, the judgement, the narrowed eyes. He headed for the gate leading back into the barn.
“Where are you going?” Jaxon called.
He growled, “To fix this.”
He handed the horse off to the newest Timber Falls cowboy, Casey. “He’s done.”
Casey took the reins and headed off to untack the horse and put him back out to pasture, whistling as he went.
Eli’s boots crunched on the snow-covered gravel as he strode away, his gaze fixed on the dented up old pickup that had seen more miles than he cared to count. The early morning sun cast a warm glow over the dashboard as he fired up the engine, its familiar rumble picking away at the tension in his shoulders.
The drive into town was a silent one. Eli’s thoughts, however, were anything but quiet. They buzzed nonstop, swarming with images of Willow’s warm eyes and the Empowerment Elves she’d cleverly crafted.
The pickup rolled to a stop down the street from the Timber Falls Gazette, its old stone building standing stark against the clear blue sky. He exited his truck, and as he walked down the road, surrounded by the rustic charm of the two-lane street with quaint shops on either side, people moved out of his way.
He pushed through the glass door, the bell jingling overhead announcing his arrival. The office was quiet with the news channel being played on the television screen. But it was Sally, seated behind her cluttered desk adorned with a small potted cactus and scattered papers, who drew his immediate attention.
“Hey, Sally,” he called.
Sally looked up, her face breaking into a smile that was both familiar and comforting. Her eyes, a soft brown, held the kind of understanding that shared pain evoked. Sally had been his sister’s best friend.
“Well, well, isn’t this a good surprise,” she replied, her pen coming to a rest beside the open notebook on her desk. “What brings you by?”
He approached, taking a seat in the chair in front of her desk. “I was hoping you could help me.”
Sally’s brows rose. “With?”
“A friend of mine, Willow—she owns The Naked Moose with Charly and Aubrey.”
Sally smiled. “I’ve met them all.”
“Good—that’ll make this easier.” He mirrored the smile. “Willow has got this Christmas craft group going called Empowerment Elves...” He caught her up on what the group was all about and the comment on the bar’s social media account.
When he finished, a shadow of pain flickered across Sally’s features, a mirror to Eli’s own heartache. She remembered too well the loss. “Of course, I’ll help in any way I can,” she said, her voice soft yet steady. “What a wonderful cause.”
He agreed with a nod. “Thank you, Sally. Means more than I can say.”
Sally paused a moment, curiosity brimming in her eyes. “You know,” she began, swiveling slightly in her chair, opening her drawer, “there might be another way to drum up some more financial support too.”
She sifted through its contents until her hand emerged clutching a glossy piece of paper. She turned back to him and extended the flyer. “The annual Timber Falls Rodeo is next weekend,” she said, her tone casual but laced with intention. “Winner takes home five grand.”
Eli’s gaze fixed on the bold letters emblazoned across the flyer, a rush of adrenaline coursing through him. His fingers twitched as if already feeling the tug of a rope, the thud of hooves against dirt, but he held himself still.
“Five thousand could sure cover a lot of Christmas miracles,” Sally added, watching his reaction closely.
