As Ryder made his way across the town park, the echo of hammers on wood, the whine of circular saws and the shouts and laughter of volunteers filled the air. Paul Raybourn waved to him from a spot near the bandstand. “Glad you could make it.” Paul clapped him on the back in greeting when Ryder reached the group gathered around stacks of lumber and a pile of hand tools. “We need all the help we can get.” Ryder nodded hello to Paul’s wife, Didi, and Christa’s friend, Kelly. “I heard you needed volunteers, so here I am.” “That’s really sweet of you,” Kelly said. “We have to get all these booths built and in place so the different clubs and other groups can decorate them for the fair on Saturday.” “Usually, we just use those pop-up canopies,” Paul said. “But Christa thought we should have wooden structures, to make it look like an Old West town.” He nudged a stack of lumber with his foot.
