Summer Nights (Fool's Gold #8)(32)

“The first stop is up the mountain. Three brothers bought land together. To be honest, I’m not sure how they’ve made a living all these years. Someone said they’d sold trees to lumber companies, but that’s not something you can do every year. It takes time for new trees to grow. I’ve heard whispers of a gold mine and someone else said she thinks they’re growing pot, but I have my doubts.”

She chattered on about the brothers and their connection to the community and how Alfred loved mysteries but Albert was more into books that made him cry. Always a challenge for her. That Alastair had died two years ago and the other two brothers still hadn’t gotten over the loss. The wives didn’t seem that interested in reading, disappearing into the house when she arrived. She’d tried to make friends, but they were apparently only tight with each other. Like sisters.

“I’m an only child,” she said. “When I was growing up, I always wished I had a brother or sister. You’re lucky.”

“In many ways,” he muttered, trying not to look at her bare legs. He sucked in a breath and forced himself to focus on the conversation. At least it would be a distraction.

“My brothers and I have always been close.” He thought about Rafe and Clay. “At least I’ve gotten along with both of them. They’ve had some trouble.”

“Why?”

“Our dad died when we were kids. Rafe’s the oldest. Mom depended on him to help her out. Probably more than she should have. He worried, did the brunt of the chores. I remember he was always so serious, so determined.”

He glanced out the window. They’d turned off the highway and were now driving up the mountain. Trees crowded the road and shaded them from the bright sun.

“After Dad died, there wasn’t much money. Mom worked as a housekeeper for the old bastard who owned the Castle Ranch. He didn’t pay her squat, instead promising he would leave her the ranch when he died.”

She glanced at him, then turned her attention back to the road. “I thought May and your brother only came here a few months ago.”

“They did. After the old guy died, he left the ranch to some relatives back east. We were turned out in a matter of days. Rafe was happy. By then he hated the ranch and couldn’t wait to get anywhere that wasn’t here. I hated leaving and vowed when I grew up, I’d buy my own place and no one would ever tell me to get out again.”

“Which you made happen.”

“It took some work, but yes, I have my land.”

“And your very fancy horses.”

“Very fancy horses.”

“What are you going to do with Khatar?”

“Train him, get him well known, then breed him.”

“Such a life. Am I getting in the way of the training?”

“No. I’m spending a lot of time getting the new stables ready. I was going to work with him this winter.”

She smiled. “He’s really not a bad horse. He’s very gentle.”

“For you.”

“You have to admire his taste.”

“I kind of do.”

Their eyes met for a second, then she looked away. But not before he saw a flicker of what could only be called interest. Desire hit him square in the gut…and lower. He swore under his breath. He reminded himself that the safest thing was to keep his distance. But right then, he couldn’t quite see the logic of not having that which he wanted most.

Fortunately, she turned onto a dirt road. Her car rattled and moaned in protest.

“You can see why all-wheel drive would be helpful,” she said as she bounced in her seat. “I can’t get through to see them in winter. That’s a long time to go without a book or a movie.”

“Do they get to town?”

“Some.”

While he liked country life, he enjoyed being able to get out whenever he wanted. Being cut off for winter wasn’t his idea of a good time.

The dirt road narrowed and the trees seemed to move in.

“Did you tell them we were coming?” he asked, picturing a bunch of old guys with rifles and questionable vision.

“Yes. They’ll have phone service until the weather gets bad.”

The dirt road curved, then widened. As they drove around, the space opened up onto a cleared flat area with three small houses clustered together. The houses were nearly identical, with peaked roofs and plenty of windows. Big porches wrapped around each of them and a pair of rocking chairs sat to the right of the front doors. Five of those chairs were occupied by the oldest people Shane had ever seen.

Two wrinkled little men and three wrinkled little women stared at them. They looked like those apple-head dolls, all brown and bent, with raisin eyes and old-fashioned clothes.

As the car came to a stop, all five of them rose. The women ducked into the house and the men slowly, very, very slowly, stepped off the porches and headed toward them.

“Annabelle!” the wizened little men yelled as one.

She got out and hurried toward them where she was hugged and her cheeks pinched. Shane wasn’t sure, but thought maybe the old guy on the left patted her butt.

He was introduced and shook hands. He was careful not to squeeze too hard.

Albert, or maybe it was Alfred, followed Annabelle to the back of the car, where she had a dozen or so books in a small box.