Heartfield Ranch (Communities of Discipline Book 2) Read Online Free

really up for this?
    Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of an engine and a short blast of a horn and she jumped a bit, stirred from her thoughts by the noise. Then her heart quickened in her chest.
    “Speak of the devil,” she said under her breath as the truck pulled over. She looked toward the vehicle, shooting the driver her best damsel-in-distress expression.
    “Car trouble?” A man was getting out of the truck - a nice-looking man. Tall, with thick black hair, he was wearing a dark shirt, blue jeans and work boots. When she looked up at him he shot her a friendly smile. Karen’s heart quickened again.
    “Y-yes,” she stammered and turned to the car, running her hand through her hair before bringing them to rest on her slender hips. “I thought I’d just overheated but now I’m thinking it’s something more serious.”
    “Do you mind if I take a look?”
    “Sure. Thanks!” Karen stepped aside and let Clay look under the hood. After a few moments he shook his head.
    “I don’t know how to tell you this…” he said.
    “Oh God, please don’t tell me it’s going to cost more than fifty bucks,” she said, injecting as much distress into her voice as she could comfortably fake. “I’m out here trying to find work and that’s all I had left.”
    Clay put the hood down and sighed. “Your engine’s blown,” he said gently, and when Karen looked away with a sad little ‘oh,’ he sighed.
    “It is going to cost more than fifty bucks,” he added. “I think you’re going to need a new car.” He paused as he took in her distressed expression. “Look, I just came from town,” he said. “I don’t mind taking you back. Maybe you could call your folks, or some friends?”
    Karen sighed miserably. “It wouldn’t do me any good. I don’t know anyone here.” She fixed him with a forlorn look. “Do you know of any place around here where I can stay cheap, or where I can work for board until I can get on my feet?”
    Clay Sanders was silent for a moment, and regarded Karen where she stood by the car. In the back seat he could see several suitcases. He walked around the car, considering the situation, and glimpsed at the battered Michigan plates. One could never be too careful, but she seemed on the up-and-up. The woman was waif-like, standing there in her braids, blue jeans and tank top. Her arms and legs were well-toned, and she looked to be in good shape. The other residents of Heartfield would have to be consulted, but he was sure they would trust the judgment which told him it was wrong to leave this petite female standing alone by the side of the road.
     
    “Have you ever heard of Heartfield?” he asked.
    Karen shook her head. “Is it a town? It’s not on my map, at least not that I remember.”
    “No,” said Clay. “It’s a private farming community just up the road. You probably passed the entrance on the way up. We’re closed to the public, but I don’t think the other members would have a problem with your coming in and staying till you can get on your feet.”
    “You aren’t nudists are you?” Karen asked, stepping back. She knew just to jump at the chance without some measure of skepticism would raise suspicion. “I mean, is it safe?”
    “It’s safe,” he said. “We’re agrarian back-to-the-land types. We grow our own food, keep bees, goats, sheep, cows, chickens. We even dabble in aquaculture. The women are very crafty – most all of them know how to sew and spin. It’s a nice place, very simple. And we all keep our clothes on.”
    “It sounds like The Farm,” Karen said, dropping a bit of knowledge she’d gained from research. “You know, that place in Tennessee? I saw a documentary on it once, on PBS. I’m surprised places like that still exist.”
    “We’re a little like that,” replied Clay, who had heard of the famous hippie commune from the seventies. “Only I’d say our lifestyle is a bit more traditional. Well, a lot more traditional. We’re