Free Always Dakota by Debbie Macomber

home—only, he hadn’t expected that to take over forty years. He was near retirement age now, and it made sense that he pastor a church in the very town where he’d spent his youth. His life was about to come full circle.
    For a time, his return had looked doubtful. It seemed that despite all of Joshua McKenna’s and Hassie Knight’s efforts, Buffalo Valley was about to be snuffed out, like so many other small towns that dotted the Dakotas. Then, unexpectedly, the community had sprung back to life. Larry was thrilled and had managed to convince the church hierarchy to send him to Buffalo Valley.
    The only church available belonged to the Catholics. It’d been closed for a number of years, ever since Father McGrath, hampered by age and failing health, had retired. Despite circumstances, the elderly priest had continued to stop by every few weeks to celebrate Mass. Recently, however, Father McGrath had entered a retirement home in Minnesota and the Bishop was eager to sell the property. The Methodist Church had bought it.
    Soon after Larry had accepted the assignment, he’d found a nearby house to rent. The spare bedroom served as his office. The house was smaller than he would’ve liked, but it was fine for the time being. Fortunately his three daughters were grown and settled in careers and raising their own families. Unfortunately, they lived in three different states—Connecticut, Nebraska and Oregon.
    Larry’s first official duty had been to officiate at the funeral of Bernard Clemens. He remembered the rancher, but it’d been years since they’d last spoken. The funeral, sad as it was, had been an opportunity to become acquainted with the people in town, those he’d once known and the younger people, whose families he often remembered. Larry had spent a good part of the day meeting and greeting his new neighbors.
    In some ways, not much had changed in Buffalo Valley. When he’d left, there’d been a reserve toward strangers, a hesitancy. It remained in place to this day. The town…well, it looked better than he’d expected, but there was still much to be done. People were pleased with the most recent improvements and planning more. Then there was—
    “Lunch is ready,” Joyce called from the kitchen, breaking into his musings.
    He’d met Joyce while he was in the seminary. His wife had been raised in Boston, but over the years she’d come to love small-town life.
    “What are your plans for the afternoon?” she asked as she sat across the table from him. She’d prepared one of his favorites, a chicken salad made with cold noodles and tossed with a soy vinaigrette, but today he had virtually no appetite.
    “I thought I’d go over and visit Joshua.” A question about a couple he’d met at Bernard’s funeral had been bothering Larry and he could think of no one better to ask than his old friend. After barely touching his lunch, he wandered over to Joshua McKenna’s second-hand store. Joshua sold a little of everything. The sign in his window claimed there wasn’t anything he couldn’t fix, and Larry believed it.
    “Good to see you,” Joshua called out when the bell above the door announced Larry’s arrival.
    “I’m not disturbing you, am I?” Larry saw that Joshua was up to his elbows in grease, working on some kind of engine.
    “Trust me, I welcome the interruption.” Joshua reached for a wadded-up rag, tucked in his back hip pocket. “This,” he said, gently patting the huge metal contraption, “is the engine to Gage Sinclair’s tractor. Dennis had it two weeks and couldn’t get it running. He threw up his hands and asked me to give it a try.”
    Larry knew that low prices were killing many of the small farmers in the heartland. Farmers kept their equipment running as long as possible, and then eked out another twenty thousand miles.
    “Did you hear I was over at Buffalo Bob’s?” Larry said as Joshua studied the engine. “Went there a couple of weeks ago, after I met them at