Excerpt from
Her Desert Treasure
by Larie Brannick
Copyright © 2014 by Larie Brannick. tAll rights reserved, including
the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any
means. For einformation regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the
Publisher.
Chapter One
GUNNISON, COLORADO.
Okay, now would be a good time for someone to pinch her.
“In addition, your Aunt Marge left you a sizeable amount when she died.”
“Aunt Marge?” Was it possible for a person’s brain to explode from confusion?
“Your father’s older sister, Marge Montgomery. She died a year or so
after your parents. Very tragic, a fire if I remember correctly.” He
scratched his wrinkled cheek. “She actually fought your grandparents for
custody in the beginning. You were so young, you probably don’t
remember.”
Meg searched her brain for some recognition. A vague memory of frilly
dresses and miniature tea sets flickered briefly, but there was already
too much information to process. God, she wanted this day to be over.
She rubbed her temples. “It’s a lot to take in.”
“I know you’ve had a trying week, but we’re almost finished.” He
flipped another page. “On to the last item. One thousand acres near the
town of Big Rock. The homestead property—”
Meg’s heart pounded, and blood rushed in her ears so loudly it
drowned out his words. Fresh tears stung her eyes. Her fondest childhood
memories had been made roaming those hills with her Grandpa, hunting
rocks to add to their collection, soaking up his knowledge and
enthusiasm like a sponge.
“—and here’s where things get a little muddy.”
“Muddy?” Crap. Concentrate, Meg. Now is not the time for an ADD
moment. “I’m sorry, Bernie. I’m afraid my attention span is a little
short these days.”
“Perfectly understandable. Would you like to take a break? I know you’re probably not used to all the chaos of the last week.”
“No thank you, Bernie. I’m fine.” Meg smiled at his reference. Even
with all she’d had to do, the pace here in Western Colorado was a far
cry from the rat race her life had become in San Diego. She’d only been
back a week, but the relaxed atmosphere had comforted her, and she
embraced it. Even before returning to make arrangements for her
grandfather’s funeral, Meg had been considering making a change. Now
that she was here, she knew she’d made the right decision. She was
moving back to Colorado. For good.
“As I was saying, this is highly unusual. A petition has been filed with the court to contest the Will.”
“I don’t understand. Who…why would someone do that?”
The older man shook his head. “Whoever it is, is trying very hard to
hide their identity. The name on the suit is Goldstone Holdings, and the
only contact information is a law office in Denver. I had Francine
search the name. There isn’t even a website. The suit is based on the
assertion that your grandfather was in negotiations to sell the land,
but I don’t believe there is any evidence to support the claim. We had
already received the order for informal probate, and it was pretty much a
done deal until this was filed.”
Meg didn’t know whether to be impressed by her grandfather’s old
friend being savvy enough to search the Internet or to be plain confused
about why someone would want to contest the Will. One thing she did
know was that there was no way her grandfather would ever sell the
property.
Bernie patted her hand. “This is merely a bump in the road. I have
every confidence there is no proof of a pending sale, and I will do my
damndest to defend your grandpa’s wishes. Your name has always been on
the deed, Megan. However, since the property is part of the estate, you
won’t be able to access the bank accounts until this is resolved.” He
hesitated. “I don’t want to assume anything, but if you need—”
“No.” She shook her head determinedly. “Absolutely not.” Squeezing
his burly hand, her voice softened. “It’s so nice of you to offer,
Bernie, but I’m fine. I have some savings and…well, I’m fine.” Moving
expenses and the fact that she’d already quit her job might make things
interesting, but nothing would keep her from her goal.
“Okay, honey. If you’re sure. I’ve already filed the necessary papers
at the courthouse to request a dismissal. I’ll do everything I can to
get this mess sorted out as quickly as possible.”
Another wave of grief hit her hard and her throat constricted. She
needed some fresh air, time to herself to try to wrap her head around
the information overload. There was only one place where Meg could find
that kind of peace. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she lifted her
head. “I was planning to stay at the cabin in Big Rock, Bernie. Will
this petition prevent me from entering the property?”
“Hmm? Oh, no. I don’t think that should be a problem. This nuisance should blow over without any trouble.”
“Not that I would ever sell, Bernie, but what if I wanted to start construction on some outbuildings?”
“You’re planning to go forward with your living classroom idea?”
It was a dream she and her grandfather had shared. She wanted to come
back home to start a living, outdoor classroom that would bring in
students from neighboring schools for field trips, lectures, and
hands-on experience collecting rocks and identifying them in a small
lab. The property had been in the family for four generations, and Meg
knew the landscape like the back of her hand. She’d always wanted to use
her teaching certificate in some unique way and ached to put her
knowledge of the area to good use. “Yes. Grandpa wanted it as much as I
do. I just wish he were still here to see it become reality.”
“I know he did, and I think it’s a wonderful way to keep his memory
with us. But just to be safe, I want you to hold off on any changes to
the property. In fact, I think it’s a good idea to keep your plans
between us for now. We don’t know who might be watching, possibly
waiting for any reason to drag out this suit.” He pushed a few more
documents across the desk. “All right, then. Unless you have any other
questions, Meg, we can wrap this up.”
A few pen strokes later, he was walking her to the door. He wrapped
her in a tight hug. “You call me if you need anything. Your grandpa
asked me to look after you, and I intend to do just that.”
She hugged him back. “Thanks for everything, Bernie.
***
Jake Matthews stood and stretched after checking his patient. She was
a pretty little thing, the spitting image of her mother. The prize
winning Palomino mare turned her big, brown eyes from him to her new
foal as she nursed. He took a few sugar cubes from the bucket nailed to
the stall and held out his hand. The mare’s velvety nose tickled his
palm as she nibbled the treats. “You’re doing fine, Nikki. See, you’re
getting the hang of this.”
After patting her and her new daughter on the neck one final time, he
secured the latch on their stall before leaving the stable.
Jesus, what a long night. And even longer day. The mare had been in
labor when Jake checked on her after dinner last night, and she’d seemed
fine. When he went back out to the stables after checking the other
animals at his veterinary hospital, he could see she was having trouble
and couldn’t just let nature takes its course. The foal had been breech,
and though Jake had delivered breeches before, this one was
particularly difficult. He’d left them at dawn for a quick shower before
he started seeing patients.
Outside, he breathed in the fresh, afternoon air. His gaze wandered
to the brick house, the animal clinic, and the kennels where he heard
the dogs stirring. Sunlight brushed the red mesas and rainbow-hued
sandstone formations surrounding him. He held his breath as he took in
the beauty. No wonder he’d fallen in love with this place. After only
two years in his practice here in Big Rock, Colorado, he was happier
than he’d ever thought he could be again. He slowly released his breath.
Happy? Okay, content. This place was a completely different world
compared to the pressure-filled days at Wyndham Animal Hospital in
Chicago. He hadn’t planned on leaving, but hey, sometimes shit happened,
and Jake wanted to believe it happened for a reason.
The familiar sound of hooves turned him back to the corral. His
future, in the form of a magnificent Appaloosa stallion, trotted over to
him. “Hey, buddy. I just saw your daughter. She’s sure to be a champ,
just like her old man.” The Quarter Horse tossed his head as if in
agreement. Jake stroked the stallion’s muscled neck. He’d gambled
everything he had on this horse, Destiny’s Heart, and so far, the
stallion was living up to Jake’s expectations. The little filly in the
stable was the first of what Jake hoped would be many in the new
bloodline. He smoothed the sleek mane one last time. “See you in a few
hours, Desi. I’m going to try to catch a glimpse of that elusive cousin
of yours.”
Jake never tired of the view on the drive to the secluded canyon.
He’d been coming here ever since meeting the property’s owner, John
Clark, a couple years ago. The old man had enthusiastically introduced
Jake to the wild horse herd that made the canyon their home, and he’d
been hooked on sight. The herd of about two hundred mustangs fascinated
Jake, and John had encouraged him to come out to observe them as often
as possible. His old friend had moved into a retirement community in
Gunnison about six months ago, and while they spoke on the phone often,
Jake had only been able to visit a few times. The news of John’s death
had hit him hard, especially since he hadn’t heard about it until after
the funeral. He hadn’t even been able to pay his final respects.
Memories of his old friend brought a smile to his face. What a
character. John had been one of the first people Jake met when he came
to town, and the two men had become fast friends, bonding over their
interest in the horses. Jake couldn’t help but wonder what would happen
to the herd now. He’d promised himself he’d do everything in his power
to make sure they stayed in the canyon.
After parking and locking the gate, he threw his tripod over one
shoulder, his backpack over the other, and walked the half mile to the
mouth of the canyon. Once his camera was set up, he settled into his
camp chair to wait. The horses had become accustomed to his visits and
weren’t as skittish as they’d been in the beginning. He could move about
freely without spooking them, and Jake could get within fifty feet of
some of the younger, more curious animals.
One horse in particular held Jake’s interest, though. The newcomer, a
beautiful Bay stallion, didn’t have the shorter, stocky build of
typical wild mustangs. No, this horse came from different stock. The
short, refined head, the strong, well-muscled body, broad chest, and
powerful, rounded hindquarters were all characteristics of a Quarter
Horse. And Jake had seen this guy run. He had the great sprinting speed
over short distances common to the breed. Jake wondered how the stallion
had ended up with the herd.
With his worn Stetson tipped to shade his eyes, Jake leaned back in
the canvas chair. The occasional buzz of a bee was the only reminder he
wasn’t alone in this valley. The utter silence had taken some getting
used to. Jake’s life in Chicago had been a blur of noise and activity.
Between the residency program in equine medicine and volunteering at the
local shelter, he hadn’t had a moment of quiet. But even the constant
action wasn’t enough to distract him from the memory—
A sharp whinny broke the silence. Jake jumped out of his chair and
focused the camera on the approaching horses. It didn’t matter how many
times he saw it, the sight of the herd was always exciting. He and John
had shared many early mornings and late afternoons watching the animals
and planning for the wild horse refuge they wanted to develop.
Worry nagged the fringes of his thoughts. With John gone, what if the
new owner wouldn’t follow through with his wishes? It was possible that
John hadn’t discussed their plans with anyone else. Jake would keep his
promise to John and fight for the horses. He would deal with any
opposition if and when it came up. Right now, the equine object of his
curiosity loped into view.
***
Tired but excited, Meg drove into the Southwest Colorado town of Big
Rock. The clock outside the bank she passed read 5:20 p.m., and the
oversized thermometer said 101 degrees. “Yeah, but it’s a dry heat.”
Amused at herself, she smiled.
Memories came at her in a rush at the sight of the mountains in the
distance. She’d grown up in Gunnison, a couple hundred miles northeast
of Big Rock, but weekends and any other vacation time her grandparents
had were spent on the thousand acres of desert just outside of town. Any
time her grandfather wasn’t working, he was roaming the hills, scouring
the rock formations looking for specimens for his rock collection. Meg
had been his shadow. He’d taught her everything he knew about this land,
and that had sparked her love of geology. They’d been close, but the
bond between them always grew stronger when they were here in Big Rock.
The fist around her heart tightened. “Oh, Grandpa. It’s going to be so different without you here.”
She slowed her grandfather’s old station wagon as she turned down
Main Street. The 1964 Ford Falcon wagon handled like a tank compared to
her little Miata, but that had been totaled in a hit and run accident in
San Diego. Since she hadn’t received the settlement from her car
insurance yet, she’d commandeered the ‘Cherry Bomb’ until she could buy
something else. It still felt strange knowing she could afford to write a
check for a new car—well, if the estate ever got settled, but for now,
the old wagon would be fine.
“Holy crap.” The sleepy little town from her memory was gone. Bumper
to bumper traffic clogged the streets. The principal road into town was
still only two lanes, barely wide enough to accommodate the huge RV’s,
campers, and trucks pulling trailers. Meg managed to wind her way
through town and was soon on her way to her grandfather’s property,
amazed at how much the area had grown. Instead of the scrub brush and
cactus she remembered, several newer, large homes dotted the landscape.
Other changes caught her attention, too. A large Keep Out sign had
been posted on the side of the gravel road leading to the property.
Surely her grandfather hadn’t posted the sign. He’d always welcomed
anyone who came to visit. The once rough road was now fairly smooth, and
it was wider than she remembered. It appeared to have been graded
recently. Grandpa hadn’t spent any time here in the past six months, and
she couldn’t help a niggling worry that something wasn’t right.
Soon their old cabin came into view. A beautifully carved, wooden
sign hung on the gate ahead. Meg’s lips quivered, and her eyes grew
misty. ‘Dolly’s Draw’. That was something else Grandpa must have added.
She stopped and got out to open the gate.
Stretching, she breathed in deeply, turning in a slow circle to take
in the view around her. Home. “This is exactly what I needed.” She made
quick work of the combination and swung the gate wide. Butterflies of
anticipation fluttered in her stomach, and tears stung the backs of her
eyes as she got closer to the cabin. She parked beneath one of the big
cottonwood trees that shaded their picnic area and got out to look
around. Not much had changed. It was still beautiful and peaceful and
Meg’s heart lifted.
Unloading her things could wait, but her need to reacquaint herself
with this place couldn’t. After grabbing her water bottle and locking
the car, she set off for the trail leading to the canyon. Seeing the
beauty of the land through the eyes of ownership, Meg didn’t know
whether to laugh or cry, so she did both. She’d been away too long, and
guilt nudged its way into the mix of happy memories, grief over the loss
of her family, and awe of the magnificent views. Thankfully, no one
else was around to witness her emotional roller coaster ride.
Lost in her own head, Meg rounded a bend around a rock outcropping and…What?
The shock at seeing a stranger—a man—standing in this remote area
stopped her in her tracks. An involuntary shiver of fear chased down her
spine, and her heart raced. Panic threatened. Without conscious
thought, her hand settled over her abdomen. Though hidden by her
clothing, the thin line of slightly puckered skin reminded her to be
brave. She inhaled slowly as she studied the countryside. Exhaling just
as slowly, she assessed the situation. He appeared to be alone,
oblivious to her as he leaned over a tripod. Was he taking pictures of
something in the canyon? One thing was certain. He was trespassing on
her grandfather’s property. No, her property.
A sense of protectiveness pushed away the fear, and she straightened her spine. Quit being a weenie, Meg. Not all men are bullies. She
patted her front pocket for her ever-present Mace can keychain and
picked up her pace toward the man, waved her hand, and called out,
“Excuse me! This is private property.”
The man whirled around, ire flashing in his brown eyes. “Goddammit!”
He slapped his hat against his denim covered thigh. “They’re gone.”
ere
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Rosalie
Lario is the award-winning, paranormal romance author of the Demons of
Infernum and the Fallen Warriors series. Rosalie double majored in
Anthropology and Classics as an undergraduate student, and briefly
considered becoming an archaeologist before realizing they don’t
actually live the life of Indiana Jones. So what was a classical geek
armed with a lot of useless knowledge to do? Become a lawyer, of course!
