"I'm sorry, Mary-Ellen. There's nothing I can do." The elderly bank teller informed the curly haired woman before him. 

Dressed in warm winter clothes, she leaned against the opposite side of the counter. She offered him a sad smile and glanced out the window off to the side. Taking a moment or two the woman, sighed and rubbed her temples. A thoughtful silence settled between them as she pondered over her choices.

Mary-Ellen admitted, softly after a few long moments passed by, "I know, Ken. But please, just give me one more week. I'm takin' a trailer of calves to the yards. I'll get the cash from them."

"I can only hold off Mr. Henley for so much longer. You're still nearly three months behind on your payments." He reminded her, even though he knew she knew.

Everyone in this town knew of Mary-Ellen's plight. It was hard not hear the gossip. Word fast spread in Vevay much like any other small town. Talk was cheap when the story was good and Mary-Ellen's story had quickly become one of the prime topics up for discussion. Especially, once word had gotten out about her inability to pay back the bank.

"Please, Ken, I can't lose the farm." Mary-Ellen pleaded, "I've got nowhere else to go."

Ken studied the farmer for a moment as her countenance fell. He'd always had a soft spot for the young woman ever since her late husband had brought her down to the valley nearly five years ago. Both filled with the dream of owning and living off their own plot of land. Unfortunately, Angus Price had done nothing more than to make her a widow. It must've been going on two years ago by now. Two years since they'd brought his body back after he'd lost life life fighting in someone else's war. Mary-Ellen hadn't been the same since and who could blame her? She'd given up everything, uprooted her entire life to follow her husband's dream of owning a farm. So much for that dream, all she was left with was echoes of what could've been.

"Oh, alright," He agreed, even though he knew Mr. Henley wouldn't approve of this agreement. If one asked, he'd blame on old age. But in truth, Ken didn't have the heart to turn her down. "Best be bringin' that money in promptly."

A rare smile stretched her full lips as she beamed up at him, "You won't regret this, I promise."

The blonde bounded out of the bank in a whirl before Ken could register what'd happened. Blinking, the old man shook his head after her. Hoping everything would work out for her. She needed a miracle more than anything. He just hoped the Good Lord was willing to grant favor on her poor soul.

Tossing open the door of her old blue farm truck, Mary-Ellen slid into the driver's seat and pulled the door shut behind her. Once within the privacy of the cab, she bowed her head in a silent prayer of thanks. Shaking her head, she thrust the key into the ignition, firing up the engine before backing out of the parking spot. Hazel eyes flickered upwards as she glanced up at the rearview mirror to make sure she wasn't about to back into someone. That was until an old black and white photo caught her attention. It was a portrait of Angus dressed in his army greens, taken just days before he'd been shipped off. A bitter smile stretched her lips as she thought about Angus and how he'd been taken away from her so suddenly.

"Won't let go of our dream." She vowed, wiping the tears prickling at the corners of her eyes before she turned her truck in the direction of the homestead. 

...

Jamie O'Brien, at a glance, was a tall, lean man with a thick, wiry beard, stern features and cold, pale eyes. Auburn hair peeked out from beneath the pale Stetson perched atop of his brow. The wide brimmed hat cast a shadow over half his face as he stared down at the beer bottle resting in his hand. 

He was as approachable as the blue trail of smoke wafting upwards from the ashtray beside him. Most people didn't pay drifters like him any mind. He'd be gone before they took further notice. That was how he liked it. No one to care for or worry about. No ties to hold him anywhere. Free to go where his whims carried him.

"Almost closin' time, son." The barkeep informed the surly man, drying off a mug as he watched him safely behind the bar.

Jamie nodded, curtly and reached behind him to pull his billfold from the back pocket of his jeans. He threw down a couple twenties, figuring that it'd be enough to cover his tab. He, then, proceeded to drain the rest of the beer. Setting the empty bottle on the bar, he rose from the barstool he'd been occupying for most of the night.

Stretching out his back, he loped out of the bar and headed for his old red pickup. Lighting a new smoke before he hauled himself up into the driver's seat. Sure, the old dodge had seen better days and he'd put more miles on it than he'd care to admit. But the rust bucket still served him well enough. Firing up motor, Jamie revved up the engine before tearing out of the gravel parking lot.

...

A week later, Mary-Ellen watched with hopeful eyes as stockyard employees herded another load of calves ran onto the scales. Four groups of ten head, she'd brought forty, freshly weaned calves to sell to the feedlots. If she was being honest with herself, they were all too green to be sold, but she didn't have a choice. She, desperately, needed the money. Anything would help out. 

She'd been scraping by for months now and she could feel the heat from the bank more than ever. They needed her money too, and they weren't nearly as patient as she was. Besides, she'd promised Ken she get the money to him promptly after he'd granted her yet another extension. She didn't have the heart to let him down again.

Peering over the shoulder of stock yards' owner, she watched as he jotted down the combine weight before waving the workers to move the group on. He, then, totaled up the weights of all four groups before adding in the market price. Once he was satisfied with his calculations, he handed Mary-Ellen her check. For a moment, the young woman allowed a triumphant smile to spread across her lips, but it, quickly, fell when her mind finally registered her true earnings.

"$20.90, Dennis?" Mary-Ellen's brow furrowed as she looked up at the manager.

The hefty man shrugged as he tucked the check book into the breast pocket of his flannel shirt, "Prices are down this year."

Dennis Almeyer turned to head into the office, but Mary-Ellen grasped his thick forearm and pulled him back to face her, "You don't understand."

"Oh, I understand plenty." He shook his head, solemnly, "I run a fair operation here, Ms. Price. I can't go offerin' ya a better price just cause yer hurtin' for cash. It's not good for business. If word got around I'd be stuck givin' it to everyone and the big markets just aren't there."

Sighing, Mary-Ellen nodded in understanding and stepped back towards the door, "I know. Thank you, Dennis."

She, then, stalked out of the scale room and made her way towards the door. Only stopping when Dennis called out to her,

"Mrs. Price, if you need any help around the farm, my boy: Jake, would be more than happy to lend a hand."

Glancing back at the balding man, Mary-Ellen offered him a curt nod, "Thank you, kindly, but I know I can make it out alright."

Before Dennis could answer, Mary-Ellen was out the door. The manager's shoulders slumped in defeat as he glanced out at his men moving the Price calves into a few holding corrals. 

"Crazy woman."

...

Off in the distance, thunder rumbled through the hills and valleys as a storm front moved in. Mary-Ellen had just parked her truck underneath the carport when it started to sprinkle. For a moment,she surveyed the pastures that surrounded her home. The darkening sky matched her internal dismay as she felt towards her situation. If only her troubles would move along like those storm clouds instead of hanging over her head.

She sighed and then turned her attention back to the old farmhouse she called 'home'. Sliding out of the cab, she stalked her way up towards the porch and stormed into the mudroom. Slamming door open and shut, she shrugged off her jacket and tossed it onto the wooden floor before discarding her boots in a similar manner. The racket she made drew the attention of a matronly woman working in the kitchen. Jerking in surprise, she turned from the stew she'd been slaving just in time to see Mary-Ellen tromp into the room. When the elderly woman's gentle eyes fell upon the younger resident, she could tell from the way Mary-Ellen hung her head that things hadn't gone as planned.

"How'd we do?"

"Still $500 short." Mary-Ellen sighed, her voice nearly breaking, as she collapsed into one of the chairs that surrounded the sturdy table.

Mary-Ellen's head fell into her hands as she brought her elbows to rest on the table top. Raking her hands over her face, she shook her head in an attempt to will away the frustration that had been building since she'd left Almeyer's. Her heart and head felt too heavy at the moment to do anything more than sulk. How much more could a single woman take?

Frowning, the elderly woman crossed the room and rested her weather hands on Mary-Ellen's shoulders, "You don't have to stay, you know... Angus would understand if-."

"No!" Mary-Ellen's head snapped up as she leveled a glare at the older woman, "I can't give up. That's not what he would've wanted."

Shaking her head, the older woman pointed a wooden spoon at the younger, "What or what not my son would've wanted doesn't matter anymore. He's been gone for two years, Mary. I know it'd break his heart to see you struggling like this. This isn't the life he would've wanted for you."

Clamping her eyes shut, Mary-Ellen willed the tears away when she felt them begin to sting at her eyes. Her mother-in-law's rationale was sound, but she couldn't accept it. She couldn't abandon her late husband's dream. No matter how difficult things had become. It just wasn't in her to leave it or his memory behind.

"Connie, you know I just can't." A flash of defiance flickered in the younger woman's hazel eyes as new determination settled over her heart shaped face.

Tendrils of silver hair bounced as the older woman nodded in understanding as she turned back to the stew, "I know, dear. I also know you can't keep pushing yourself like this. You're gonna work yourself to death."

"I can handle-" Connie threw her daughter-in-law as sharp look causing Mary-Ellen's shoulders to slump as Connie pointed out, "You aren't sleeping. You hardly eat. You've spread yourself so thin you can't keep track of what you've done and what you've got left to do. All you do is work from dawn to dusk. Please, Mary, just consider getting some hired help."

"You aren't the first person to suggest that today." Mary-Ellen admitted as she considered Connie's words and recalled how they echoed Dennis' sentiment.

Connie sashayed back over to the gas stove to resume her duties, "It's a good idea. It'll give you more time to focus on making money... and resting."

"Perhaps you're right," She conceded, before an idea popped into her head, "I'll write something up and have it in the Tribune for the day after tomorrow."

"Good call." Connie agreed as she dished up two sizable bowls of the beef stew and carried them over to the table. Setting one down in front of Mary-Ellen, "Now eat."

...

The sign read Vevay, Indiana. Population: 5240. Jamie had passed through dozens of small towns just like this one. They were all too small with too many nosey people for his tastes. But he was running low on gas and short on energy, so he had little choice other than to pull into the first- and only- gas station. Quickly, he filled up the tank before he proceeded to pull into the only decent bar for a drink and maybe a decent meal. He'd probably pass out in the cab of his truck afterwards. He'd get out of dodge early the next morning and keep pushing north towards Michigan or maybe Canada. Anywhere, really, was better than here.

His boot heels clicked on the sticky wooden floorboards as he ambled through the door of the local drinking establishment. Jamie's nose wrinkled as it was assaulted by the smell of stale beer and pungent cheese. Damn Hoosiers. He cursed, internally as he found an empty seat at the end of the long bar towards the back. Looking over the fellow patrons, he could tell they were nothing more than a bunch of rednecks. Simple farm folk who'd lived and worked in this town all their lives.

"What can I get ya?" A buxom barmaid purred as she appraised the drifter with hungry eyes.

Jamie spared the ginger woman a brief glance before he pulled out the pack of cigarettes from his breast pocket and plucked one out. Setting it between his teeth, he looked over the menu board and grumbled, "I'll take a beer 'n a paper."

"Sure thing, honey." She winked as she sauntered over to the cooler, swaying her hips suggestively. She bent over slowly as she retrieved his beverage before grabbing a paper from a stack next to the register. She made her way back over towards him in a similar fashion, setting both down in front of the handsome stranger, "Can I fetch you anything else?"

"Some peace 'n quiet?" Jamie requested as his long fingers curled around the neck of the bottle.

The young waitress huffed and stomped away, causing the man to shake his head after her. Normally, he would've picked up on her signals and been more intrigued with what she had to offer. He'd done it plenty of times during his years on the road, but he wasn't interested in wasting any more of his time or energy in this one horse town than necessary. The sooner he could leave the better.

With beaded eyes, he began to thumb through the local paper front page newsprint for the tri-county area. The articles within did little to hold his attention. He didn't plan on lingering here long enough for any of it to affect him. But he found himself curious and slightly hungry for a slice of stability. Sports, however, were something he'd always be interested in. He'd been a decent outfielder in his youth, but none of that mattered after he'd been drafted. The war had caused more than just physical wounds. There were times he could still hear the blistering barrage of machine gun shells, see the bodies of his fallen comrades, and the smell of napalm in the air. Nowadays, there was little that truly excited him and with each year that passed, he few increasingly numb to the world.

When he made his way to the Classifieds, Jamie found his interest peaked as he began to skim through ads. Although, it was purely business these listings were certainly more stimulating than anything he'd read thus far. Too bad there weren't many. Just a few locals selling machinery, animals, and services. But Jamie had no need for any material wealth, he had all he needed crammed in the bed of his truck. But, then, his attention landed on the section of job ads, only one was listed but it caught his attention nonetheless.

Help Wanted. Experienced Farm Hand needed. Must have knowledge and ability to work with animals, operate machinery, and everyday maintenance tasks. Willing to provide room and board. Pay competitive. If interested, report to the Price Family Farm just off Base Road. Resume required. Serious applicants only! -M.E. Price

Peridot irises sparkled as his back rested against his barstool and mulled over the ad. Considering the opportunity, thoughtfully, he stroked his rust-colored beard. His wallet was lighter than he'd like it to be. If he didn't stop for work soon, he'd be plum out of cash. Which meant he'd only make it as far as this tank of gas could take him. Of course, that wouldn't be nearly far enough for a man like him.

Humming to himself, he lit up the smoke that had been dangling between his lips and pondered his options. Working as a farm hand wasn't the worst job in the world. In fact, it was right up his alley compared to other jobs he'd taken in order to make ends meet. And anything was better than construction or even working in the mines. Especially if room and board were provided, that was an offer he couldn't turn down. Perhaps he'd be staying in Vevay longer than he first thought.

...

Mary-Ellen rose with the rooster as she did every other day. With the sun just beginning to break over the horizon, she crept out the door. The sky was tinted the sky, warm pinks and oranges despite the crispness of the late winter morning. The pungent scent of dairy air wafted along the chilly breeze as she trudged her way through the barn lot. Frost glistened on the hard dirt lane as she shuffled towards the parlor for the morning milking session. The sixty head of Jersey cows she milked would take her nearly three hours to run through the small parlor. But Mary-Ellen wouldn't have it any other way. Angus had built from scratch and that meant more to her than the most state-of-the-art equipment money could buy.

Sighing, she submersed herself in her work. Finding reprieve in the monotony of milking. Really anything to take her mind off the bank, bills she was struggling to pay, and all the chores she'd still have to do after she finished. Despite appearances, Mary-Ellen hadn't grown up on a farm instead married into it. But now, working with animals almost came as natural to her as breathing. She couldn't imagine a life without this farm and didn't know what she'd do without it. She wasn't ready to face that very real possibility. But that was neither here nor there so she just kept on working.

...

Three hours later and utterly spent, Mary-Ellen shut off the pumps in the milkroom before turning out the lights and exiting the parlor. Her stomach grumbled desperate for something to eat. Instead, she staved off her hunger by extracting a wrinkled carton of Marlboros from the pocket of her worn coveralls. Tucking one of the darts between her lips, she lit it with a hum of satisfaction. She savored the burning feeling that buried itself deep within her lungs as she took a nice, long drag. She hadn't been much of a smoker before Angus. But had taken it up after his death, nicotine and coffee were the only things that could calm her nerves nowadays.

Gravel crunched under her boots as she stalked towards the house, her eyes everywhere but the building itself. She looked over the hilly pastures surrounding her immediate property with a thoughtful eye. Quick to take note of the green sprouts of winter wheat just beginning to peek out from underneath the soil. Soon enough other cover crops would follow suit. The first signs of spring were all around her, she realized as she noticed a robin hopped across the road in front of her. With all luck, she'd have a decent harvest this year. Horses and the beef cattle munched away on round bales in the barn lot. Her loft was getting sparse as it always did this time of year, but the pasture wasn't ready to turn them out just yet.

Everything appeared to be business as usual that was until she turned her attention back towards her home. Her brows, immediately, furrowed when she saw a strange red pickup parked across from the carport. It wasn't unusual to have guests stop by for breakfast. Connie had friends from all over the county who would stop by for her famous hearty breakfasts'. Mary-Ellen didn't mind the company. At this point, she figured she would've had a kid or two by now. The guests filled the empty, quiet which had settled into the Price home. This car, however, didn't belong to any of her regulars. Mary-Ellen knew all of them by heart. And if someone had gotten a new ride, then she would've heard about it by now.

Stuffing her hands in the fraying pockets of her tan Carhartt, she marched towards the house and tossed the coat by the furnace in the mudroom. Her ears picked up a muffled conversation from the other side of the glass door as she tore off the rest of her outerwear. She sent it off to join the discarded jacket on the warm bricks before creeping over to the door to see who'd stopped by. Peering through the window into the kitchen, Mary-Ellen saw the back of a man's head seated in the chair at closest to the door. He was facing away from her towards Connie. Her mother-in-law chattered away as she slaved over the griddle, working on frying up some bacon and eggs.

Grasping the knob, Mary-Ellen didn't bother with common courtesy as she pulled open the door. Making sure to stomp into the kitchen, loud enough to draw their attention. Connie glanced up from her errand for a moment before turning back to the food. While the man's bearded face seemed taken aback by her appearance.

"Took you long enough to finish." Connie jested as she scooped a pile of bacon onto an extra plate so it wouldn't burn.

Mary-Ellen shrugged as she moved around the table to take her customary seat opposite of the stranger's. She glanced at the auburn haired man, who'd made himself comfortable in her kitchen. He looked every inch of a ramblin' man, from his worn clothing to the hard set expression etched into his face. He, too, observed her as his chin came to rest atop his hands. He wore an old blue flannel shirt, jeans, and ropers. A pale Stetson rested on the table next to one hand while the other was wrapped around a mug of coffee.

The stare down continued until Connie set hefty plates of food in front of them. Mary-Ellen stood up to fetch herself a cup of coffee, but Connie beat her to it. Already a step ahead, the older woman tucked a steaming, hot mug into her daughter-in-law's freezing hands. Settling back down in her seat, Mary-Ellen began to butter and spread strawberry preserves on her toast. But she found it difficult to dig in as she watched the stranger tear into his meal. A frown pulled down her lips as she shot an accusing glance at her mother-in-law, who shrugged sheepishly.

"Excuse me, sir." Mary-Ellen inquired as she sprinkled some sugar into coffee, waiting until she'd gained his full attention before continuing, "Now, I don't mean to be rude, but what're you doing in my house? Eating my food?"

Glancing up from his plate, the man's green eyes flickered with something akin to amusement. "Saw the help wanted ad in the paper yesterday. I'm here to work, ma'am."

"Work, you say?" She repeated as she snapped a piece of bacon between her teeth, "That's awfully presumptuous of you, sir. I don't know the first thing about you."

"Name's Jamie O'Brien. I'm from Winchester. Was travelin' north when I saw the ad. If it's any trouble, I'd like to speak with yer husband. Is he gonna be around 'fore long?"

Mary-Ellen took a long swig of coffee and gestured to herself, "Ain't no husband to be waitin' on. You're looking at the owner. I'm Mary-Ellen Price. You got a resume?"

"'Fraid I left it in Illinois." Jamie informed her, plainly with a nonchalant shrug, "But I can prove my work ethic to ya if it's really that important."

"Hmmm...." She frowned, looking him over once more before deeming, "Well, then you'll just have to join me after breakfast. I've got a slew of chores to get through this morning. We'll start with feeding' then move on from there."

It would take a few days for word to circle around before any of the locals took a bite and she didn't really expect anyone else to take it. Most everyone in town knew of her situation and knew she wouldn't be able to pay like she promised. She just hoped no one in town told Jamie that. If he worked like he said he would, he might just help her save her farm. She just hoped he'd stick around long enough for her to repay him for all the help he'd no doubt be.

"Whatever you say, boss lady." He agreed, seeming pleased to have settled on a tryout with the Price woman.

...

Author's Note: And there you have it, the first chapter of HELP WANTED! I apologize if there are any grammar issues or typos, I just needed to publish something to brighten up my mood after a rough day. I hope everyone is looking for to what happens next!