E-mail: janweeks@acsol.net or jan@weekslit.com

USPS: PO Box 2704, Grand Junction, CO  81502 USA

Phone: (970) 255-6679

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The Secret of Spring Hollow  http://www.amazon.com/

Silverton Summer  http://www.amazon.com/

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                                        SILVERTON SUMMER

                                      By Jan Weeks

While wandering alone down the streets of Silverton, Colorado, Lissa Dow discovers the charming Victorian cottage with --miraculously -- a for rent sign in the window. She rents the house and moves in, finally declaring her independence from her domineering aunt.  She falls for John MacNeill, her ruggedly handsome landlord, whose ex-wife refuses to give up her hold on him. Lissa discovers John's dark side, a secret he won't -- or can't -- share. She also finds that love and secrecy lead to danger, but who can she can trust?

      
                                      Chapter One

“Lissa! Don't just stand there! Give me a hand down." Aunt Lydia's strident voice penetrated Lissa Dow's absorp­tion with the view from the train platform. She hurried forward to aid her aunt's descent from the historic Durango-to-Silverton train. Tourists streamed from the steam-powered train, determined to make the most of the two-hour stop in Silverton, Colorado.

Lissa glanced again at the view, which was indeed one to give pause. Majestic mountain peaks, snow­-capped even in early June, towered over the tiny min­ing town. Dense forests of evergreens and aspen blanketed the slopes, except for bare chutes where thundering avalanches had wreaked total devastation. Harsh crags of granite loomed darkly to the north of town, and to the south, the narrow two-lane road to Durango wound steeply up toward Molas Pass.

"Come on, Lissa. We have only two hours. Since you insisted on this ridiculous expedition, we might as well make the most of it." Aunt Lydia's solid, upright form sailed through the slowly dispersing crowd, heading for the nearest gift shop.

Lissa followed tiredly, her slim, denim-clad figure slightly bowed, her pale shoulder-length hair framing a dispirited face. She hitched her commodious blue canvas bag higher onto her shoulder and sighed heavily. Her dark eyes closed momentarily in resignation. Her aunt's constant complaints and acidic tongue had worn her out. In fact, the entire two-week trip had been a fiasco. From the moment they left Des Moines, Lydia Dow had found absolutely nothing to her liking. The motel rooms were too small. the beds too hard, the weather too hot, the weather too cold, the  bus too jolting, and on and on. Lissa, driven to distraction by this constant moaning, had suggested the outing to Silverton, hoping the novelty of  the day-long long journey and the beauty of the Colorado mountains would alleviate her aunt's dissatisfaction.

At one time, the historic train had been the only method of transportation to and from the old mining town of Silverton. Now the old railroad cars and restored engine transported hordes of tourists into the highest Colorado mountains. At times it seemed that the train would hurtle from the sheer side of the cliff to the rocky bed of the Animas River hundreds of feet below. The mountain had eroded away in places so that the sides of the cars hung over the edge, giving the impression to passengers inside that the train was airborne. Fragile trestles spanning the river seemed inadequate to hold the weight of the train.  Despite the apparent danger, the line was per­fectly safe, and Lissa thrilled to the excitement of traveling back in time in authentic restored passenger cars.  Aunt Lydia spent the entire trip gripping the edge of her plush seat and admonishing Lissa for her impetuosity in choosing this form of entertainment.

Lissa hurriedly caught up with her aunt, glancing at the sour, disgruntled expression on the older woman's face.

I guess Aunt Lydia just refuses to be happy. I should be used to it by now, Lissa thought wryly.

They breezed through several small shops, Lydia determined to find something wrong with everything Lissa admired.

"You can get the same thing for half that at Wool­worth's." Her insensitive comments on the quality and prices of different items drew withering glances from several clerks, but Lydia was undaunted. "They think tourists are made of money, and stupid to boot."

Lissa's pale face burned with embarrassment. Al­though many items had been mass-produced with an eye to the typical consumer, some things were ob­viously handcrafted and showed pride on the part of the maker. She remembered how her parents respected well-made things, and she had learned those same values.

Since her parents had died ten years earlier, Lissa had made her home with her father's unmarried sister. It was hard to credit that two such entirely different personalities were related by blood. Her father had been easygoing and full of laughter, a perfect match for her mother. Both had been totally involved with life, meeting it face-to-face with humor and joy. Lissa couldn't remember ever seeing them depressed. There had been times of adversity, but the happiness and satisfaction of living always brought them back to a level of joy seldom, if ever, experienced by Aunt Lydia.

Lissa shuddered, thinking again of how that joy had been shattered by a drunk driver who smashed head-on into her parents' car, killing them instantly. Dour Aunt Lydia had been named her guardian in the will, and she did her duty, never letting Lissa forget that she was fulfilling an obligation.

The sixteen-year-old girl had been profoundly af­fected by the tragedy, and in her grief, found it easier to go along with Lydia than to assert herself. After majoring in art and education at Drake University, she continued to live with her aunt while she taught high ­school art. It was convenient for both of them, and there was no reason, really, for Lissa to find her own apartment. Ten years of living under her aunt's domi­nation had effectively curtailed any experiments in in­dependent living. When Lissa had proposed this trip to Colorado, Lydia had flatly refused to let her go alone.

"What? Run off to Colorado by yourself? Why, they're savages out there. They still live in log cabins!"

"Oh, Aunt Lydia! Don't be ridiculous. Colorado is a state, you know. I'm sure they're not still wearing coonskin caps and bearskin coats. I'm going and that's that." Lissa had been surprised at her own deter­mination. The trip had suddenly become a quest-a crystallization of long-repressed desire.

“Not by yourself, young lady! It'll be the death of both of us, I don't doubt, but I'm coming too." Then Lydia had stalked off muttering something about un­grateful children.

Lissa was torn from her reverie by her aunt's terse voice. "Quit mooning. Here's a cafe. I doubt the food’s fit to eat, but it's better than nothing. Hurry up, before all the seats are taken."

Lissa's stomach churned at the thought of eating and listening to even more negative comments. "Aunt Lydia, I don't feel very hungry. Why don't you eat without me? I'll meet you back here at a quarter to two. "

"Well," her aunt snapped, "do what you want, but if you ask me, you'll be sick before we get back to Durango. Just wait and see!"

Lissa shrugged mentally, turned, and made her way out of the quickly filling restaurant and into the sun-­drenched street. Feeling shell-shocked from the noisy crowds, she rapidly walked north, away from the con­gested business district.

In a few blocks the shops had given way to Victo­rian gingerbreads, sturdy frame houses, and an occa­sional modern wood-sided home. It was quiet and cooler away from the hordes of visitors, and Lissa strolled along, enjoying the quaint structures and masses of flowers rioting colorfully in almost every yard. The sun caressed her skin while a gentle breeze lifted strands of hair from her forehead, cooling her. How she wished she could stay here where the air was pure, almost liquid, and the ageless mountains bespoke a deep disregard for the pettiness of day-to-day living.

Lissa straightened her back and breathed deeply, pulling the sweetness of the high country air into city-bred lungs, breathing in a wild freedom that seemed to permeate the atmosphere. No wonder pioneers had moved to the West, away from the stifling conventions of the more populated areas.

Lissa sighed. Would it be worth the trouble to overcome her inertia and effect a major change? Although life with Aunt Lydia was not comfortable, it certainly was safe. When her parents were alive she had had been sheltered by their love and by the knowledge that they would always be there. After their deaths she still had food and shelter and nice clothes, but something very important was missing.

The heartbroken girl had shied away from forming attachments in high school and had seldom dated, preferring her own company to that of boys who only wanted to talk about cars or sports, or who wanted more affection than she was prepared to give. She never thought much about her looks, unconscious of how her dark eyes were set off by her honey hair and fair skin. The tomboy figure of early adolescence had ripened into a graceful fullness not much noticed by her, but certainly attractive to the high-school boys. Although many wanted to date her, few were brave enough to risk the rebuff implied by her unsmiling, withdrawn countenance.

She had no close friends, either. Being uprooted and transplanted in the middle of her high-school years, she had lost the friendships of her childhood and hadn't had the time to form new ones. The other girls looked on her as stuck-up, not seeing that her aloofness was caused by the pain of her loss and a fear of her new circumstances. All in all, hers was a lonely life, but one that she grew to fit. Was she truly ready to shed that constricting life and grow into a new one?

            She strolled more slowly, relaxing in the midday warmth. Suddenly a feeling of déjà vu, an unearthly floating sensation, engulfed her as she gazed at a small, yellow Victorian cottage. She grasped the picket fence that surrounded the tiny yard, taking in every detail – the wooden columns supporting the ornate gingerbread porch, the lead-glass panes set in the front door, the heavily curtained windows.

This house is home, she thought. It wants me to live in it. Shaking her head as if to clear it, she returned to reality, but the house still fascinated her. A small plac­ard in the front window drew her attention. House for rent. Contact Maggie at the Leather Works, Old Town Square.

“I don’t believe this," Lissa whispered. "I can live here. I don't have to go back to Des Moines." The idea of freedom, so strange to her, grew as a flame does when touched to paper, consuming the remnants of dependence, urging her to action.

Lissa hurried back, pushing through the crowds, almost running as she neared Old Town Square. Please don't let it be rented. Please, please, please, she prayed.

Her low-heeled sandals tapped urgently on the wooden walk as she hurried toward the rustic log structure set back from the street. Breathless, she plunged into the semi-gloom of the Leather Works, her eyes momentarily blinded after the glare outside.

"Whoa, there! Are you all right?" A female voice gradually became part of a stout womanly figure as Lissa's eyes adjusted. 

"Are you Maggie?" Lissa choked out.

"Yes, I am." 

 "Have you rented the house?"

"Why, no. I --" 

"Oh, thank heavens!" Lissa broke in, sighing. "I'd like to rent it if it's okay. Will you take traveler's checks?" 

Maggie eyed her warily. "Sure. But don't you want to know how much and when it's available?"

"You mean, someone's living in it? Oh, no!" Her eyes filled with tears as visions of freedom from Aunt Lydia faded. 

"No, no," Maggie said, waving her hand. "It's been empty for a while, and I'll need to do some cleaning."  

Lissa silently thanked her guardian angel. "That doesn't matter. I'm a great cleaner-upper. Can I move in tomorrow?" Her tightly clasped hands and tense posture proclaimed her eagerness. 

Maggie frowned. "You really are in a hurry. Is there some particular reason you need it that soon?"

Lissa found herself explaining how the house seemed to pull her and that she and her aunt were returning to Des Moines the next morning unless she had a place to stay. 

"Aunt Lydia would throw a bigger fit than she's going to if she knew I didn't have a roof over my head," Lissa went on. "It'll be hard to convince her to let me stay as it is." 

"Tomorrow will be just fine," Maggie said, sensing the underlying urgency in Lissa's story. "Now, how about details --like your name, rank, and how much you're willing to pay?" Maggie named a reasonable figure that the last tenant had paid.

"That sounds like a fair price. I'm Lissa Dow. I can't believe my luck in finding this place. It's almost spooky how this is working out." She pulled out her traveler's checks and signed several of them. 

"More so than you know. I put that sign up only this morning on my way to work," Maggie said.

Lissa laughed. "That settles it. It was meant to be. Silverton is now home sweet home." 

 "You can make those out to John MacNeill," Mag­gie told her. "He's the owner. I just watch over the place for him while he's in California, or wherever. Right now he's in Santa Barbara until Christmas. I'll forward the checks to him. By the way, I'm Maggie Cochran. I'll give you the official welcome to Silver­ton. I think you'll like it here." 

Lissa surveyed the welcoming committee. Long dark hair, attractively streaked with gray, framed a square face. Laugh lines radiated from startlingly blue eyes, and her mouth turned up in a perpetual smile. Maggie was a happy person, no doubt about it. Lissa smiled in reply.

''I'm sure I'll love it, once I get settled in. Is there a bus from Durango?" Lissa inquired. "I don't want to lake the old train again, and I don't have my own transportation."

"There's no bus service tomorrow." Maggie paused a moment, looking pensive. "Jake is making a supply run tomorrow around noon. He can pick you up. Are you staying at the Strater?"

"Yes, I am," Lissa said.

"Okay. I'll have him meet you in the lobby. His name's Jake Harbert, and he'll be looking for you."

"I can't tell you what this means to me," Lissa said. "Uh-oh, there's the train whistle. I'd better run. Thanks again."

She arrived at the cafe just as her aunt stalked down the steps. "It's about time you showed up. Where on earth have you been? I thought you'd be back before this. Come on. We don't want to miss the train. And wipe that foolish expression off your face." With those staccato words, Lydia strode toward the depot, never turning to see if Lissa followed.

Lissa, moving more slowly, smiled to herself and thought, Aunt Lydia, this isn't a foolish expression. It's a smile. You ought to try it some time. She couldn't stop smiling if she tried. Something about the way everything had come together told Lissa that liv­ing in the yellow house in Silverton would change her life forever.

                          THE SECRET OF SPRING HOLLOW

                                         By Jan Weeks

After a tragic accident claims the lives of Caitlin Morrisey's parents, she must preserve the family ranch and support her younger brother and sister. Neighbor Tony Black proposes to her, but she wants love on her terms, not a marriage forged in desperation. She turns the old barn into a bed and breakfast, but a series of accidents almost puts the Spring Hollow Guest Ranch out of business before it opens. Connor Devlin, the rancher whose broken fence and wandering cattle caused the fatal crash, offers to buy her out, but Caitlin furiously rejects the offer. She'll make it on her own or die in the attempt. The legend of lost Spanish treasure taunts the Morriseys and fascinates their guests, but someone has plans for the treasure, and they don't include letting stubborn Caitlin live.

 
                                 Chapter One


            A raw February wind raveled the dark clouds, sending them spinning and twisting across the peaks. Streamers of fog curled toward the small group gathered in the old family cemetery, and the mourners shivered in the damp chill. The twin wounds in the earth waited to receive the polished steel caskets.
            Caitlin Morrisey pulled Linnie and Jeff closer, trying to shelter them from the pain of death as well as from the pervasive wind, but the cold was soul-deep. Reverend Dimmock’s voice rose and fell eerily as the bitter breeze blew his words first to the mourners, then to the surrounding mountains. Linnie and Jeff stood straight and tearless, having cried themselves out in the days before the funeral. Caitlin blinked against the frigid wind; then her eyes filled with hot tears as she looked at the caskets. The tears chilled into icy rivulets on her face as the wind quartered around from the north to blow directly at her. She wiped them away, stiffening her resolve not to break down in front of her friends and neighbors. Linnie fumbled for Caitlin’s hand, linking her gloved fingers tightly with her older sister’s hand. Caitlin squeezed back. She was grateful for the touch. It seemed to ground her and lessen the unreality of the scene. Her breath caught in her throat, and her thoughts whirled in the same dance of death that had partnered them for the last few days.
            Less than a week, she thought. Less than a week ago, their parents were alive and happy. Now they lay side by side in their caskets, still and cold and never coming back.
            The mourners huddled together aginst the cold, their outlines blurred by the blowing snow, as the caskets were lowered into the frozen winter earth, neighbors an dfriends gathered in sorrow with the Morrisey children. The ropes slid smoothly through the pulleys; there were two muffled thuds as the caskets came to rest. The capricious winds stilled as Caitlin bent to scoop up a bit of dirt in each hand. The black earth was as cold as death, and she steeled herself to toss it into the waiting graves. A momentary stilling of the wind left the gathering enveloped by stark silence as she released the muddy earth, and then the wind whirled back, carrying her tiny moan to the sky and mountains.
            Unable to think or move, she stared blankly at her muddy hands, the fingers splayed and rigid. Reverend Dimmock pressed a handkerchief against her cold flesh and patted her hand.
            Moving slowly, as if trapped in a bad dream, Caitlin wiped the slick mud from her hands, then stepped back to stand with her brother and sister. She could feel Linnie’s trembling as her sister’s arms encircled her. Jeff stood stoic, swallowing hard, not blinking for fear his tears would destroy his composure. The neighbors closed in around them, silently escorting them from the graves. Caitlin stepped carefully, concentrating on avoiding the snow that had drifted along the path. At the gate of the cemetery, their friends and neighbors murmured condolences, and the soft words mingled with the wind to sound a dirge.
            “So sorry…we called as soon as we heard…anything we can do…call us anytime….” The words swirled aimlessly around Caitlin and Linnie and Jeff, and they nodded and murmured, as if they were truly hearing what was said. The wind increased, lifting coat hems and plastering hair against faces. The mourners hurried away toward their cars and pickup trucks.
            The three Morriseys squeezed into the cab of their pickup, and Caitlin rubbed her numbed hands together to warm them. She fumbled the key into the ignition, and the blue Ford fell into the line of vehicles leaving the cemetery. They rode in silence, each lost in memories and mourning.
            Hard balls of sleet rattled against the windshield as a squall moved across the dying afternoon, and for a moment, Caitlin drove in a whiteout, dependent on memory alone to keep them out of the ditch. The road reappeared, and she turned into the lane that led to the ranch yard.
            Cars and trucks lined the corral fence like docile horses waiting to be fed. The windows of the old house glowed with a warm light, welcoming the mourners to the gathering.
            Caitlin eased the pickup into the parking space that had been left for them near the yard gate and turned off the ignition. They sat for a moment, listening to the tick-tick of the engine cooling. Then, reluctantly, Jeff opened his door, slid out, and offered a hand to Linnie. Caitlin drew a deep breath and let it out slowly, then pulled her coat collar tighter against the wind as she got out of the truck and hurried into the house after them.
            She paused in the warm kitchen, alone for the moment, and listened to the low hum of conversation that drifted down the hall from the living room. Linnie and Jeff had already joined the crowd, and Caitlin followed, her steps heavy and slow on the polished oak floor.
            “Cait, dear, come and sit down.” Mae Bricklin, the children’s godmother, took Caitlin’s coat. Caitlin smiled at the older woman, grateful for her support. Mae’s wiry, gray-brown hair struggled to escape from its bun at the back of her neck, and she pushed absently at it. Her face, still unlined after almost sixty years, creased with concern as she eyed her goddaughter. “How are you holding up?” she asked.
            “I’m fine,” Caitlin replied. “Really. I’m okay.” Her voice was normally low and slightly husky, but the strain and tears of the afternoon added even more huskiness. She cleared her throat and smiled at Mae.
            Mae shook her head as if she found Caitlin’s reply unconvincing, but Caitlin patted her arm and then moved around the edge of the crowded living room and sank into her mother’s favorite armchair. She saw Linnie and Jeff already surrounded by some of their high school friends, and she was grateful to the students for their support. Linnie’s lips were turned up slightly at something her best friend, Suzanne, had said; not quite a smile, but better than the frozen expression she’d worn since early morning. Linnie brushed her long blonde hair back over her shoulders, and Caitlin saw her visibly relax. Jeff’s dark head nodded in response to a comment from Todd, his best friend. Caitlin felt the atmosphere subtly change from one of deep mourning to one of sadness lightened by friendship. The finality of the service had served to release them all from the trancelike state they’d existed in ever since the accident. The sooner thay could get back to normal, the better off they’d be.

           “Cait, how’re you doing?” Caitlin jumped as Tony Black settled onto the arm of her chair and laid his arm across her shoulders. She hadn’t seen him approach. She stiffened under his touch and shrugged slightly, annoyed by the intimacy. Tony owned a ranch not far from theirs, and the two families had been close when Tony’s parents had still been on the home place. Now that they’d retired, moved to Arizona, and left the running of the operation to Tony, the elder Morriseys had gradually withdrawn from the friendship. Caitlin had never been fond of Tony. Ever since they’d been in junior high school, he’d tried to push himself into the position of boyfriend, but she’d managed to turn away his advances without alienating him.
            “I’m fine,” she replied, “but it’s been a long day.”
            “You have been so brave, darlin’.” Tony spoke softly and bent closer to whisper to her. His breath gusted across her cheek, and Caitlin flinched under its warmth. His grip on her shoulder tightened as he tried to pull her closer. “I notice Devlin didn’t have the nerve to show up at the funeral,” he continued. “It’s probably a good thing.”
            “I don’t want to discuss Connor Devlin,” Caitlin said sharply. Her slender body tensed. “Excuse me, Tony. I have to circulate.” She stood and smoothed the black dress over her hips. She smiled faintly to apologize for her abrupt departure.
            Tony’s lips thinned and his jaw hardened as he watched Caitlin drift through the crowd toward the buffet her friends had set up. She spoke and smiled and accepted condolences gracefully, the perfect lady, the perfect hostess. He pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his jacket and tapped one against his thumbnail, then shoved it back into the pack. He, too, began to circulate through the crowded room, stopping for a bit of conversation here and there, but edging closer to Caitlin all the time.
            Ed Bauer, one of the Morriseys’ oldest friends and the owner of a ranch several miles away, put his arm around Caitlin. His weathered, worn face was kind, and Caitlin had to choke back her tears at his words. “Cait, I’m so sorry,” he said. “Your folks were the best. That accident was just pure back luck.”
            “I know,” she replied, attempting to smile. Her lips quivered, and she fought the tears that sprang so readily to her eyes.
            He patted her back and gave her a little hug. “Now don’t you go worryin’ about anything. Me and some of the others’ve been feedin’ your cattle and we’ll keep right on doin’ it. Are you goin’ back to Denver?” 
            “I don’t know yet,” she said. “I’m so close to finishing the quarter, but I don’t see how I can leave Linnie and Jeff here alone.”
            “Well, everything’ll work out,” he said, trying to comfort her.
            The telephone rang. Mae answered, then held the receiver against her ample bosom as she stood on tiptoe and motioned to Caitlin. The girl excused herself from Ed and slipped through the crowd to take the call. She slipped around the corner into the hallway, holding a finger against her free ear.
            “Cait, this is Jerrold Hirsch.”
            “Oh, hi, Mr. Hirsch.” Caitlin puzzled over why the family attorney was calling.
            “I’m sorry to have missed the funeral, but I was out of town on business and just got in. I need to talk to you. Soon. Can you come by the office first thing in the morning?”
            Caitlin answered, “Sure, but didn’t we cover most of the stuff the other day?”
            “We did go over the will, but there are some other business matters that need your immediate attention.” Tension quivered in his voice.
            “What’s wrong?” she asked.
            “Cait, I’d rather discuss it in person. Tomorrow morning, please.” He obviously wasn’t going to go into any details right now.
            “All right,” she replied. “I’ll be there at eight.” Slowly she entered the living room and replaced the receiver, wondering what had happened. The will had been very clear and straightforward, leaving everything to her, to manager for herself, Linnie, and Jeff.
            “What did Hirsch want?”
            Caitlin spun around to face Tony. “Oh! Don’t sneak up on me like that,” she exclaimed.
            “Sorry. You looked a little troubled. I thought I could help.” Tony’s hand on her shoulder irritated Caitlin, and she tensed, trying to keep from flinching.
            “So what did Hirsch have to say?” he asked again.
            Caitlin wanted to shout, “None of your business,” but she stifled the words. Instead she said, “He wants to see me in the morning. And how did you know I was talking to Jerrold Hirsch?”
            “I hope there’s nothing wrong,” Tony said, evading the question.
            Caitlin wanted to slap him, and her right hand twitched as she clenched her fingers. She bit her lip and said, “I’m sure everything is in perfect order. Excuse me, please.” This time she didn’t smile to ease her rudeness.
            As she mingled with the crowd again, she noticed Ed Bauer move to intercept Tony and engage him in a long-winded discussion of the price of cattle. She said a silent thank-you to Ed and vowed to bake him one of the peach pies he was so fond of.
            The grandfather clock in the corner of the room boomed softly eight times. Peopled donned coats and mufflers and picked up purses. Jeff, Linnie, and Caitlin thanked them for coming and accepted heartfelt hugs and sympathy. Tony lounged against the old, upright piano, trying to ignore Ed’s lecture on the benefits of feeding hay versus silage. Caitlin could see from Tony’s stance that he was prepared to outlast them all. She slipped through the diminishing crowd and whispered to Linnie and Jeff.
            “Go up to your rooms right away.”
            “What’s wrong?” Linnie asked.
            “Tony looks like he’s settled in for the night. If we go upstairs now, Mae can honestly tell him we’ve gone to bed. So come on, please?”
            “Okay.” Jeff and Linnie spoke together, a habit of theirs from childhood. As they said goodbye to their friends, Caitlin caught Mae by the buffet and explained the dilemma to her.
            “Sure,” Mae said, “you go on up. I’ll take care of Tony.” Her voice boded no good for him if he tried to linger. Caitlin stifled a giggle as she visualized Mae literally throwing Tony off the property. He wouldn’t touch down until Sunday.
            Jeff and Linnie had already gone upstairs, andd Caitlin edged toward the staircase that led to the upper story. Ed still had Tony corralled in conversation, and she quickly tiptoed up the polished oak stairs to her room.
            Her brother and sister were waiting, perched on the edge of Caitlin’s bed.
            “How weird!” Linnie exclaimed. “Having to sneak out of our own living room. How come you wanted to get away from him so fast?”
            Caitlin flopped beside them on the bed and sighed. “I don’t really know. He’s just been hanging around too much lately. And he was eavesdropping on a conversation I was having with Mr. Hirsch. He tried twice to find out what we talked about. I don’t like him, and I don’t like the way he’s been poking into our business since Mom and Dad ….” Her voice trailed away, and they all sat silently for a moment.
            “Yeah,” Jeff said finally. “I’ve noticed how he’s been hanging around, even before the wreck.”
            His voice trembled and broke on the last word, but he fought back the tears. 
            “I just can’t figure out what he wants,” Caitlin said as she smacked the mattress with her clenched fist. “I’ve never given him any reason to think that I care about him, but he’s bound and determined that he’s going to be more than a friend.”
            A soft tap sounded on the door. Caitlin jumped up, her hands against her heart. “Who is it?” she asked, fearing the worst.
            “Just me.”
            “Oh, come in, Mae.” Caitlin quickly opened the door, and her godmother entered.
            “He finally left,” Mae said, “but Ed practically had to drag him out. I told him you’d already gone to bed, and he was rarin’ to come up here and comfort you. Can you believe the gall of that man?” She stood with arms akimbo, disgusted with Tony’s lack of good sense and good manners.
            “You’re kidding,” Linnie said. “He was actually going to come up to Cait’s room? What a jerk!” She flopped back onto the bed and groaned.
           “That’s for sure,” Jeff agreed. 
            Caitlin rubbed her forehead with both hands. “That would be all I need. I’d probably have to bash him with a chair or something to get rid of him. He can’t take a hint. Or,” she said as she grabbed a wooden hairbrush from the dresser, “I’d have to turn him over my knee and give him a good hiding!” Her voice was an excellent imitation of one of their mother’s threats, which she’d never carried out.
            Mae’s lips twitched, and Linnie and Jeff started to giggle. The thought of their petite sister turning Tony over her knee was too much for them. Caitlin joined in, enjoying the first laugh any of them had had since receiving news of their parents’ accident. It was pure silliness, but as an antidote to fear and pain, it was perfect.
            “Oh, boy!” Jeff gasped. “I can just see that. He’d never show up here again. And can you imagine what people would say if word got around?”
            Caitlin collapsed on the bed, holding her sides. “Good night, you two. I can’t take any more of this.”
            Linnie and Jeff held on to each other as they let the last of the laughter escape. Their mirth dwindled to a few hiccupping giggles. Linnie started the old childhood routine.
            “’Night-night,” she said.
            “Sleep tight,” Caitlin replied.
            “Don’t let the bedbugs bite,” Jeff finished.
            “Come on, you two,” Mae said as she ushered them to the door. “Morning comes early, and there’ll be chores to do. Too many late nights take the starch right out of you.”
            Caitlin smiled as Mae closed the door. She heard Jeff and Linnie’s footsteps in the hall and Mae’s heavier tread on the stairs. Last muffled good-nights reached her before their doors closed.       
            They’re such good kids, she thought as she flicked on the table lamp beside her bed and switched off the overhead light. The room glowed in the soft light cast by the rose-shaded lamp, and Caitlin felt an aura of comfort and, if not happiness, at least contentment filling her. She hung her black dress carefully back in the closet and shrugged into a warm flannel nightgown. February was cold in the Colorado high country, and she’d learned long ago that filmy nightwear was better left for tropical vacations.
            She slipped between the sheets and curled up in a ball, waiting for her body heat to warm the bed. Slowly she stretched out under the two blankets and the handmade quilt. How comforting it was to be home, even in such tragic circumstances. She’d missed the quiet of the ranch and the childhood memories while she was away at college in Denver.
            She reached for the light switch, and the room plunged into darkness. In less than a minute, Caitlin was asleep.

 

                                  Chapter Two

 

            “Caitlin, sit down. I’m afraid I have some very bad news.” Jerrold Hirsch pulled the heavy, old-fashioned chair back from the desk and gestured for her to sit. The lawyer’s face was creased with worry, and his movements were jerky. He was not the usually suave man of business she was used to dealing with. Caitlin settled on the edge of the chair. She’d never seen him so upset, and it made her scalp prickle.
            He sank onto the chair behind the desk, the sunlight streaming through the sheer curtains turning his gray hair into a white halo. He swiveled sideways, avoiding her eyes.
            Caitlin’s heart pounded, and she couldn’t catch her breath. She felt as if she’d just run a mile instead of climbing one flight of stairs to his office. Her fingers tightened convulsively on her purse. His voice was rough and unsteady as he spoke.
            “Cait, there’s no money.”
            Stunned, she whispered, “None at all? What about their life insurance? What happened to that?” Her voice rose, and she clamped her lips together to get control. Not in her worst dreams had she imagined this.
            Jerrold Hirsch swiveled back to face her. “Estate taxes took it all. When the government got through with those policies, there was barely enough to bury your parents.”
            The room swung crazily, and she folded forward as her breath surged out in one explosive gasp. She felt as if she’d fallen from the hayloft flat onto the barn floor. Jerrold’s grip on her shoulders kept her from falling off the chair. She vaguely wondered how he’d gotten around the desk so quickly. He eased her back and chafed her hands.
            “Oh, Cait. I’m so sorry to have to tell you this. If only your father had made some provision…but it’s pointless to speculate. Neither of them expected to die so soon. I’m sure they planned on turning everything over to you, or Jeff when he was older, just to avoid such a catastrophe.”
            Caitlin straightened and whispered, “What will we do? Where will we go? I know the ranch isn’t paid for, and we still owe on the trucks.” She extended her hands and looked at them helplessly, as if the answers lay in her palms, and if she only tried hard enough, she could find them.
            Jerrold took her cold hands in his warm ones. “I’m sorry I shocked you. It’s not all bad,” he said. “I should have started with the good news. The vehicles and the house are free and clear. Your folks carried credit life insurance on the loans. And remember, you mother inherited the house and twenty acres around it. It’s paid for. The only mortgage left is on the other thousand acres, and that annual payment was made when your father sold last year’s herd. You have a home. All you have to do is sell off the thousand acres. And, of course, your Forest Service grazing lease is worth something to another rancher.”
            “No!” Caitlin jumped to her feet. “I can’t sell the ranch. It’s our home. I can’t sell our home.” Her voice broke and she covered her face with her hands. Her dark chestnut curls fell over her fingers as she rocked back and forth in the big chair.
            “Be reasonable, Cait! The payment is over ten thousand dollars a year, due again at the end of November. How will you manage to make the payment?” Jerrold asked.
            “I don’t know,” Caitlin replied. She stood and leaned against the stately mahogany desk for support. Her dark eyes had the look of a wounded deer, but she raised her head defiantly, and her voice was steady as she said, “But I’ll find some way. That ranch is our home. We can’t just give it up.”
            The lawyer touched her shoulder. His voice was conciliatory. “Well, you have several months to decide. Don’t feel that you have to rush into anything. Let some time pass. Get some perspective. Incidentally, have you decided how you’re going to manage the cattle you have now?”
            Caitlin shook her head. “I don’t know. Dad took care of all that. A couple of the neighbors have been feeding for us since the accident, but I can’t expect them to continue to do it, and Jeff can’t do all the chores. He’s having a tough enough time in school as it is.” She sighed. “I don’t know what to do. Calving season’s coming up, and we can’t afford to hire help.”
            “Perhaps you could sell the herd,” he suggested.
            “Who’d buy at this time of year?” she asked. “Everyone I know has his own herd to take care of and doesn’t need more cows, especially in the middle of winter.”
            “Well, I’ll ask around, if you’d like me to,” he said. “If you could sell the herd, you’d have a little money to tide you over until you can get things under control.”
            Caitlin nodded. “Thanks. I guess that’s the sensible thing to do. Now I’d better get back to the ranch and see if I can get organized.”

            He held her elbow as he guided her to the office door and held it open for her.
           “Thanks, Mr. Hirsch. Sorry I fell apart,” Caitlin said as she shifted her purse to shake his hand. “I’ll talk this over with Linnie and Jeff. We’ll find a way, somehow.” She raised her chin and managed a trembling smile before she turned away.
            The door closed quietly behind her, and Jerrold Hirsch coughed and brushed the moisture from his eyes. It must be allergies, he thought. He hadn’t cried for years.

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