by Sloan Archer
So was Vanessa. It was hard to believe that, only hours ago, she’d thought that her mother couldn’t sink any lower. Guess that only went to show: Never say never when it came to the actions of Marissa Paul.
“Anyway, like I told your mother, I would have made contact with her if she’d been named in your aunt’s will.” Which, obviously, she hadn’t.
“And what did she say to that?” Vanessa asked out of pure curiosity, though she didn’t have to strain too hard to imagine.
“Let’s just say that she was not too happy,” Gary said with an awkward little chuckle that practically exclaimed Boy, that mother of yours is something else!
“I can only imagine.” Could she ever.
“She also wanted to know who Jeanie had bequeathed her property to, which the law prevents me from divulging. I told her as much. Sometimes, we do make exceptions in these situations, but given your mother’s reaction . . .”
“Say no more, Gary. I understand perfectly.”
There was a relieved little exhale on Gary’s end. “Anyway, I’ve been expecting a call from you, but when I didn’t hear back, I decided to track you down on my own. I’m glad that I finally found you.”
“Why is that?”
“Like I told you, I don’t make it a habit of discussing these matters over the phone, but this matter is pressing. And, if possible, I think it would probably be best for you to come out here to Dunblair Ridge so we can sort out the closing details of the estate.”
“The estate?”
“Oh, yes, yes—I guess I probably should have started with that,” Gary said. He sounded overwhelmed, which Vanessa could hardly blame him for, given the exchange he’d had with her mother. He’d probably been worried that apple hadn’t fallen far from the tree. “Your aunt left you her estate.”
“Are you serious?” A stupid question, Vanessa realized, since Gary Hinkle didn’t seem the sort to go around making crank phone calls about dead relatives.
“Very. She left you the—” there was a rustling in the background as Gary shuffled what Vanessa assumed was paperwork “—five-bedroom farmhouse, along with the ten acres that surrounds it. That also includes the animals on the property—chickens, goats, and one horse—that a friend of your aunt’s, Donna McCarthy, is currently tending. She also left you a Ford truck, reasonably new, and some money. It isn’t much, about twelve thousand, but it should help with whatever costs you might accrue for taxes and whatnot. The house is also in need of some repair, but it’s paid off free and clear.”
“I . . . I can’t believe it,” Vanessa said, feeling sadness, astonishment, anger, and relief simultaneously. She hardly sensed the hot tears that began to stream down her face. “Why me? I mean, I haven’t even seen Jeanie since I was a kid. I don’t understand it.”
“Well, that I can’t tell you. But I’m sure she had her reasons. Your aunt obviously cared for you very much, Vanessa,” Gary said with the patient tone of a man accustomed to dealing with the bereaved.
“I’m sorry, I’m just having a hard to processing all this. Excuse me,” Vanessa said as she reached for a tissue and blew her nose. Gary waited quietly for her to continue. “Okay, so . . . I guess I have a farmhouse in Montana.”
“That is correct.”
After a pause, Vanessa asked, “What happens next?”
“If this suits you, you can come out to Dunblair Ridge, sign a few forms, and then pick up the keys.”
“Then the house, the property—”
“And the animals, truck, and money.”
“It’s all mine?”
“Yes,” Gary said, clearly pleased to deliver the good news. “It’s all yours.”
CHAPTER NINE
“That doesn’t make any sense,” Cash said and then took a deep swig of his beer. “Three weeks of training in Missoula, and all I’m hearing about is the time you spent climbing trees. Shouldn’t you have been practicing fighting actual fires?”
Jared took a drink from his own bottle of beer, then used a forearm to wipe his mouth. He moved a pointy hand above his head as he offered clarification. “See, we smoke jumpers parachute down into the fires from an airplane above.”
“Right, because I was thinking it would be from a plane on the ground below,” deadpanned Cash.
“Smart ass.” Jared provided his friend a lazy smirk. “Anyway, because there’s always the chance that our chutes could get caught up in the branches on our way down, we have to know how to climb down trees fast or else we could—”
“Go up in a ball of flames.”
“Yah. Something like that.”
“Guess that makes sense,” Cash said and then let out a long whistle. “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: You smoke jumpers are all nuts. No way you’d ever catch me parachuting down into a raging fire like that.”
“Because snapping photos of soldiers on the battlefield must have been so much safer,” Jared teased like he’d done a hundred times before, whenever Cash voiced concern over the perils of his job.
“It wasn’t always soldiers in the battlefield. Sometimes it was guerillas in the jungle,” Cash said with mildness, as if it was somehow less dangerous. He neglected to mention the incident where he and his crew had been taken hostage by rebel forces in the Congo. Luckily, one of his colleagues had just gone to the bank and they’d been able to buy their way to freedom. He tried not to dwell on what would have happened, had they been penniless.
“Oh, well, even better.”
Cash only offered a shrug. “I’m still here, aren’t I?”
“Me, too,” Jared retorted. “But thanks for your concern, Dad.”
Cash pushed his chest out as he stretched. A section in the center his back cracked softly. “I feel more like a grandpa. I’m beat, are you?”
“Is the Pope Catholic?” Jared said and Cash chuckled.
Jared sometimes stepped in as a helper on the ranch whenever Harrison, a semi-professional bull rider with hopes of one day turning pro, needed to travel out of town for competitions. Jared, like Harrison, was in a perpetual state of peak physical condition due to his chosen career. Cash, Harrison, and Jared functioned well together, since they abided by the same ethic utilized by most Dunblair Ridge locals who used their hands to put food on the table. They worked hard—really hard—but they also weren’t afraid to occasionally cut loose.
Cash and Jared had certainly worked their tails off on the ranch earlier that day moving hefty metal fencing in preparation for the cattle’s grazing. Now, kicking back on the porch and discussing nothing in particular, they watched as the sun began its descent over the mountains.
To Cash, the view from his porch, plus the simple pleasure of easy conversation with his best friend, was a slice of heaven. Despite all the exotic places he’d traveled, Dunblair Ridge had become his favorite place on the planet. Had someone told him this would be the case back when he was a young buck rearing to skip town, he never would have believed it. Life, as he’d learned, was funny like that.
Cash got up to fetch them more beers. When he returned, the conversation soon switched to women, as it often did. With Jared traveling so much as of late, the two had some catching up to do. Much to Jared’s disappointment, Cash didn’t have too many juicy details to impart.
“Really? You haven’t been going out?”
“Not really.” Cash, after he was provided a dubious look, added, “Honest. I’ve just been doing my own thing.”
Jared made a sputtering sound and waved a hand at their surroundings. “How do you expect to meet a woman living way out here?”
Cash raised his shoulders, sipped his beer. “I guess I don’t.” He thought back in time to the last woman he’d met out and shuddered internally. Humph. Gigolo.
“I don’t get it. You swear off women or something?” Jared’s tone suggested that doing such a thing was akin to jumping into a live volcano.
“I haven’t sworn them off. I’m just taking a break.”
Jared made a fa
ce, as if he’d smelled something rotten. “Why on earth would you do something like that?”
Jared, who was quite the ladies’ man himself, was never short of dates. If anything, he had more female callers than he knew what to do with. It dumbfounded Cash that his friend had the energy to keep up with so many lovers, all of whom had zero expectation that it might lead somewhere. Maybe it was all the adrenaline he’d accrued jumping out of airplanes.
“I guess . . . I’m just tried of hooking up with random women. I want something real, you know?”
Jared took a sip of his beer and made a quenched ahh sound. “I don’t know, Cashy, they feel pretty real to me when they’re wrapped up in my arms.”
Cash gave his friend a patient look. “That’s not what I meant.” Jared was one of the few men he knew who was okay having heart-to-heart talks about romance. Cash found that most guys, particularly rough-and-tumble types who’d been raised in the country like he had, would consider discussing their feelings in the same realm as they would having a prostate exam. “For once, I’d just like to be with someone I can actually talk to. The sort of gal I could bring home to meet my parents, if they were still alive.”
“So, go out and meet one. It’s not rocket science—if it was, I’d be in serious trouble,” Jared joked. “Seriously, though, you’re not going to find a woman if you’re not putting yourself out there.”
“That’s the thing, I have,” Cash said with frustration. “The ones I keep meeting around here are either blowing through town on vacation or they’ve been—”
“Around the block.”
“Exactly, though I was going to say that they’ve been with you.”
“Hah,” Jared said with a snort. “I think you give me too much credit, hoss. But that’s small town living for you. Every woman you meet has been with somebody you know.”
“Yep.”
“Or they’re related to someone you know.”
“That’s exactly my point. It’d be weird and gross. I’d like a fresh start, someone entirely new. New to me, anyway, and new to Dunblair Ridge.”
“Good luck with that,” Jared said with an easy smile. “And let me know if she’s got a sister, if you do.”
The two men sat for few minutes sipping their beers, basking in the silent comfort of each other’s presence. Cash was lost deep in thought when Jared elbowed his forearm. “You still with me?”
Cash shook his head, as if coming to. “No, sorry. Must have tuned out for a second there.”
“Well, you picked a great time to do it, champ, because you’ve just missed her.”
Cash followed Jared’s gaze across the field to Jeanie Paul’s farmhouse. Instinctively, he raised a hand to wave before he remembered that Jeanie was gone and would never return. Despite the pang of sadness he felt, a wistful smile spread across his lips. He missed seeing her about, but he imagined she’d be annoyed to find out that people around town had been crying over her passing.
While Cash hadn’t gotten to know Jeanie closely, the exchanges he’d had with her were always lighthearted and pleasant. They’d often swapped farming tips and even goodies; she’d given him pastries, eggs, and preserves, and he’d given her sausages and steaks in return. Jeanie was a solid, likeable woman, a sentiment everyone in town shared. Her funeral had been so packed that there was standing room only by the time everyone was in attendance.
Cash said, “Do you mean Donna McCarthy? She sometimes used to stop by to feed Jeanie’s animals—before they sorted out a buyer for them, I mean. I’d have taken the critters myself, but I already have too many to deal with as it is. Maybe she forgot something.”
“Nope,” Jared said, shaking his head with an impish grin. “That was no Donna McCarthy, not unless she’s turned crazy-hot since the last time I’ve seen her.”
Cash imagined Donna in her standard outfit of baggy jeans and animal-themed t-shirt, along with her frizzy bob haircut, which she wore natural with thick streaks of grey. He also tried to picture Jared deeming such a look “crazy hot.”
So, probably not Donna, then.
“What are you doing?” Cash called after Jared when he abruptly jumped up and sprinted into the house.
Cash walked to the edge of the porch, squinting his eyes so that he could get a better look across the field. From his viewpoint, he could make out the general shapes of objects on Jeanie’s farm, but not sharp details. The taillights of a taxi were barely visible through the cloud of dust it had kicked up. As far as Cash could tell, there was nobody there.
Jared came back and stood at Cash’s side, the pair of binoculars they’d been using earlier to keep track of the cattle hanging at his neck.
“Seriously?” Cash said with a roll of his eyes. Jared now clearly had a different use in mind. “For your sake, I hope there isn’t someone ‘crazy-hot’ over there, because that’s just plain creepy.”
Bringing the binoculars up to his eyes, Jared said primly, “I’m nosy, not creepy. There’s a difference. If there’s someone new moving to my town, I think I have the right to know.”
“Mm-hmm.” Cash had to laugh, if only for his friend’s feigned indignation. “Kind of late in the day for a move-in, don’t you think? Maybe she’s just appraising the house or something.”
“Nope. She had a bunch of suitcases—boxes, too. I can’t believe you didn’t see her. She was right there.”
“If you say so. I didn’t see—”
“She’s back!” Jared hissed. He adjusted the binoculars so that he could see better. “Man, is she a looker. Bit uppity for my taste, but I’d still—”
“Gimme those!” Cash grabbed for the binoculars, strangling Jared in the process. Jared unhooked himself from the strap and handed them over.
Cash quickly brought them to his eyes and saw that his friend was right on the money. Standing at the foot of the house was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
She was, as Jared had pointed out, flashy in appearance. Her silk blouse, tight dark denim jeans, high heels, and sparkling jewelry all screamed of designer labels. Cash didn’t mind it so much, particularly not after he noted the way those fancy threads hugged her soft curves.
“Who are you?”
The woman spun around slowly to take in her surroundings, her long wavy hair, highlighted by the fading twilight rays, glimmering like pure liquid gold. The skin on her face glowed from within as she closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. When she opened them again, a few tears streamed down her cheeks. Not knowing her backstory, Cash couldn’t determine if they were tears of joy or sadness. Could have been both.
Feeling intrusive and ungentlemanly, he forced himself to lower the binoculars.
A moment later, she walked back inside.
Despite her anonymity, there was something about the woman that also seemed eerily familiar. But how could that possibly be? The woman obviously wasn’t local. I know you, don’t I? Cash thought. I don’t know how, but I do.
Echoing his thoughts Jared quipped, “No idea who she is, but I wouldn’t mind finding out.”
Cash slowly turned to Jared. “Why do you think she’s at Jeanie’s?”
Jared peered closely at his friend. “You alright? Man, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Cash realized that he was feeling like he had; he felt downright haunted by the beauty on the other side of the field. “It’s weird, but I feel like I’ve seen her before. Think she was maybe at Jeanie’s funeral?”
Jared shook his head. “Believe me, I would have remembered if she was.”
“Yah, me too,” Cash said with a sigh.
But damn if he didn’t know her.
CHAPTER TEN
Cash was having a nightmare.
A frightened voice inside his head pleaded with him to stop before he was pulled any deeper into the hell that awaited, but he had no choice in the matter. An invisible force was dragging him onward, his hot tears leaking onto the pillow from beneath his sleepy eyelids.
Cash dug his heels de
eper into the soft earth below his boots, yet he couldn’t stop, couldn’t stop. Some part of his mind understood that he was asleep, yet . . . He could feel the sting of the hot African sun on his sunburnt neck and the poke of his passport through the breast pocket of his shirt. Smoke burned his eyes and his chest seized with fear, a cold shiver snaking its way up his back.
In the distance, a woman screamed a single word. Amani! It was a name that belonged to a six-year-old boy who liked the color orange and aspired to one day play soccer in the big leagues. Cash’s new little buddy from the village. There were other women shrieking, though their sobbing reduced their words to gibberish. The air was thick with ash and the heady scent of burning, everything burning down, down—
The atmosphere darkened and his knees threatened to buckle. He clenched the strap at his shoulder until the world came back into focus. The weight of the camera bag brought him comfort through the terror, reminded him of his humanity.
We must go! A hand as dark as night gripped him by the bicep, nails leaving painful crescent-shaped slices of red. Mr. Axton, it is not safe here!
And Cash wanted to run so very much, but his feet were lead-heavy.
We must run!
The grammar school set ablaze by rebel soldiers, many as young as the students themselves.
Mr. Axton, run!
Twenty-six children and teachers slaughtered, the boys strong enough to hold a rifle kidnapped.
“No! Please don’t make me look,” Cash begged, his hoarse shouts echoing in his dream and his bedroom.
Run!
“Please! No!”
Cash bolted upright in the darkness, his voice caught in his throat mid-shriek. He fumbled for the nightstand lamp with one trembling hand and clutched his chest with the other, as if it might stop his heart from bursting free. His pulse slowed as soon as he was bathed in light.
“It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay,” he chanted, soothing himself. He let out a long breath, raked a hand through his hair. “You’re home. In Montana. It’s alright.”
