WHEN DANA, REECE, AND HE ARRIVED AT THE RANCH, Marcus’s first thought was that Reece’s description of Well Spring didn’t come close to capturing the splendor of the place. Its sprawling beauty rushed into his head and heart and he grinned. The surging river far in front of them, the aspen trees full of emerald leaves along its banks, the chalk cliffs rising on the other side of the water all gave promise of sanctuary and revelation. Then there was the main cabin. Two thousand square feet he guessed, and it looked like it should be on a postcard.
Reece gave them a tour, describing the detail that went into construction of the place.
“The main cabin is made from an old barn built in the late 1890s that came from Gray Rock Ranch ten miles south of the town of Eagle. The barn was going to be torn down and destroyed. It was thought worthless.
“The builders of Well Spring disagreed.” Reece gazed around the inside of the cabin, nodding slightly. “The rest of the cabin was added on a year later.” He strolled over to the main hallway and ran his fingertips along the wall. “Look at the wood.”
“It’s gorgeous,” Dana said.
“It comes from trees destroyed by the pine beetle. They’ve decimated many trees around here, but wood that was discarded and thought only good for fires was taken and restored into something beautiful.”
Reece didn’t need to mention the symbolism. It was obvious. God restoring the broken and inviting them into glory.
Marcus studied the wood, then let his gaze roam to the photos hanging every few feet along the length of the hallway. Pictures of the river outside lit up like gold in a late afternoon sun, a close-up of a radiant aspen leaf full of spring green, a shot looking down on the cabin that must have been taken from the mountains above the ranch. Each of the photos was captivating in its artistry and color.
Dana wandered over and smiled as she studied each photo. When she reached the end of the hallway she turned. “These photos are magnificent. Really, really stunning.”
Marcus studied the look on her face. “Is photography an interest of yours?”
“No, not really.” She shook her head. “Well, sort of. It’s a hobby I don’t take much time for. But I did bring my camera on this trip. And I’ll definitely be taking some shots.” She glanced once more at the photos and walked back down the hall to join Reece and him.
Next Reece led them outside where a covered porch protected a fireplace that looked well used. A pile of kindling sat next to the fireplace, and a huge pile of split logs was stacked between two of the log posts that held up the awning. From there Reece led them down fourteen steps made from railroad ties onto a long walkway. He pointed at the white path. “These stones are French limestone. They were purchased for a dime on the dollar.”
The path led to a circular patio with a fire pit in the center of it, which overlooked the river thirty feet below. Marcus glanced up and down the steep descent to the riverbank, looking for stairs. There were none. But he did see worn paths and thick ropes streaming out from a few of the trees growing out of the bank. It was evident climbing down to the river was common among the visitors to Well Spring Ranch. For some reason it seemed appropriate there were no stairs.
Reece motioned at the circular patio they stood on. “This is the listening post. My favorite spot of the entire ranch. It’s where the Spirit has spoken to me over the years I’ve been coming here and where I suspect God will talk to you. It’s where he seems to talk to most people who gather at the ranch. But maybe your spot will be down by the river.”
Reece motioned toward the cliffs rising on the other side of the valley. “Or maybe at the base of the mountains. Or maybe high up in the hills.”
“How do you know he’ll speak to us?” Dana said.
“Remember what I said on the way here about Jesus saying his sheep will hear his voice? He will speak. That’s not the question. The question is if you’ll listen. The question is if you’ll choose to believe what he says.”
Reece looked at each of them for a long time as if to punctuate his comment. “The third member of our band won’t arrive for another”—he pulled back his sleeve and glanced at his watch—“two hours, so I’d like to suggest you start in on your journals.”
“What journals?”
Reece pulled two small black leather journals out of his satchel and handed one to Dana and one to Marcus. “A life worth living is a life worth recording. And I believe the life you’re going to live over these next few days, and the months and years after that, will be well worth documenting.”
Marcus ran his fingers over the leather. Like silk. His name was etched into the front of the journal. He glanced at Dana’s. Her name graced the cover as well.
“Thank you, Reece,” he said.
Marcus smiled as he pondered Kat’s last words before he left this morning. “No regrets about missing Abbie’s game. No regrets about anything in the past. You can’t change it, but dwelling on the past can mar the future. So step into the future with everything God has for you.”
God willing, he would. No regrets. Not anymore—if only it were that easy.
Dana smiled at Reece. “Yes, thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Reece started to say something else, then stopped.
“Were you going to add something?” Dana asked.
Reece shielded his eyes from the sun. “This has been a long time coming. I’m glad both of you are here.”
Marcus didn’t touch the statement and neither did Dana. Pain glazed the man’s eyes as well as longing, fear, and a hint of regret. Reece hid it, but Marcus knew that look too well through personal experience.
“And I’d also spend some time in prayer. We’re going into battle and we’ll all need to be fully stocked up.”
“When does the battle begin?” Dana said.
“It already has.”