Dream Chaser (9 page)

Suzanna returned to the motel
, misgivings swirling. The woman thought she was chasing Jonathan? The sheets at the motel weren’t always changed?

The next morning, Suzanna discovered that
Emma’s comment about the sheets was accurate
,
compounded by
what she suspected were
bedbugs when she woke up itching.
A continuous
late-night part
y
from the people two doors away
had
interrupted her sleep. After two days
of short hikes that tired her out
, she
hated
shaking out the bedclothes
and trying to ignore the drunken revelry. She
returned to the post office.

She waited while a rancher paid for a package. When it was her turn, she asked, “Abigail, I’m told you have a list of places to stay other than that motel I’m at.”

“Tired of
it
, are you?” Abby stamped some letters before setting them aside.

“
I’ve decided I want to stay
a little
longer, and I’d prefer something
… uh.” S
he paused
.

“Cleaner and quieter, I suspect.”

“How’d you guess?” No matter the cost, a decent night’s sleep would be worth it.

“People talk. Hang on, let me get the list and we’ll go over it.” Abigail turned to a young man with a shock of red hair under a tattered cowboy hat. “Here’s your mail, Caleb.” She handed
him
a
stack
of mail and two small boxes.

The young man lifted his hat in silent acknowledgement.

“Tell that boss of yours he needs to come see me one of these days, instead of sending you in all the time. Since when is he too busy to
talk to
me
?”

The young man reddened. “Yes, ma’am.” He left, shutting the door behind him.

“That boy. He hardly ever talks.” Abby turned back to Suzanna.
“Where were we? Oh, yes. Here’s the list. Hm
m
. Here. Write these down.”
She handed paper and pencil to Suzanna.
“Here’s three
guest ranches
that might work for you.
Oops
,
make that two.
The Barretts don’t take dogs.
You could try the Triple R ranch. They run dudes. It’s earlier than they usually take them, but they might be willing
,
and their little cabins are clean and neat.” She continued down the list, using her finger to guide her
gaze
. “Here’s another one. These fo
lks have an old log house that’
s too big for them. They rent out rooms
,
and Evelyn’s a great cook. You’d like her. I don’t think they’d mind Sam. He seems the quiet type.”

She stopped to help another patron and then returned to the list.
“I’m not sure about the Schuylers, but it’s worth a call. They used to rent out their cottages.”
She scratched her head a minute. “It’s been
a while
since I looked at this list. I thought there were more.”
She went back into the office, deep in thought. “Well, here’s another one that might be worth a try. The owner has a cabin he d
oesn’t use anymore, though he—
his w
ife, anyway—rented it out once or twice…
long time ago. He might let you have it. Here’s the number.” She handed Suzanna another piece of paper. “Oh, and a local map. I’ll mark where these places are so you can find them. The ranches don’t exactly have street signs like you’d find in town, don’t ya know.” She smiled at Suzanna.

“Thanks.” Suzanna turned to go
then remembered the letters she had written. “Could I use General Delivery if I want to receive mail while I’m here?”

“Sure thing. How long do you think you’ll be around?”

“I’m not sure.” Suzanna bought some stamps, and handed her mail to Abigail.

Suzanna spent the next several hours looking for another place to stay. Two of the ones on the list Abigail had given her were already full, and one other—with a cabin whose roof was caved in—was so run
-
down she didn’t make a call after driving by it.
Her pulse picked up speed when she looked down at the
last
item on her list. The Circle K. It had to be Jonathan Kingsley’s place
.
She wasn’t sure what held her back from going there first. Maybe it was that offhand comment of the librarian.

When she thought of Jonathan, she had a visceral response that both frightened and intrigued her. She wasn’t sure she
should
feel either. After all, he’d only invited her to stop in if she traveled his way. But the intensity of his blue eyes when she’d seen him at the beach, and again when they’d bumped into one another walking the Lake Harriet trail, generated heat she’d never felt before. He was a handsome man, muscled and slim, with a resonant voice that felt like a caress when he’d said her name. Was that all she was reacting to? He was what Penny would have called eye candy. She wanted to think it was only that, but something about him said he represented more.

Suzanna tiredly crossed the other places
off
the list
. “I’m not sure if I should ask about it
, but let’s go check it out
, Sam
. I hope it’s not as
falling down
as the last one.” She found the place on the map, and drove to the ranch, stopping near the entrance where a ranch hand was working on the fence.

“Excuse me,” she said, recognizing the young man who’d been in the post office. “I’m looking for
Mr. Kingsley.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Is he here?”

“No, ma’am.”

“You mean I have the wrong ranch?”

“No, ma’am, but he’s not here.”

“Do you know when he’ll be back?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Would it be possible for me to leave him a note?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He continued fix
ing
the fencing.

Suzanna wrote
a quick note, folded the paper
and gave it to the young man at the gate. “If you could give this to him, please.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He put the note in his
jack
et pocket and returned to his work.

Suzanna climbed back in the Jeep. “Well, I did my best, Sam. I guess we’ll
just
have to wait and see.” She reluctantly returned to the motel.
“Tomorrow, we’ll go hiking again. No sense not enjoying this spectacular scenery.”

Jonathan Kingsley grabbed his
jack
et off the coat rack and ran one hand through his hair as he looked outside.
Home from the seminar, the second one in the last three months, he was glad to be back. He frowned at the preliminary numbers Curly had given him. If they were accurate, they’d lost more stock this past winter than in previous years. From the weather, or was it cougars again? And that landslide. He and Bill Ames, the rancher whose land adjoined his, had yet to get up there with enough equipment to repair the damage near the lake that fed streams onto their land.

He stretched his arms toward the ceiling, reached for his hat and headed for the barn. . “I need some time
outside to clear my head,” he
told Nate when the old man peered out at him from the kitchen window.
Jonathan
saddled his big Appaloosa,
Squire,
and loped north of the buildings that dotted his
two thousand-
acre ranch.
Deserting the office and the work he knew would be waiting for him was only putting off the inevitable

The horse quickly took him away from the cattle that dotted the nearby fields. He
rode toward
an overlook with a view of the far ridge and the valley between.
Streams meandered down the higher slopes to collect in lakes before joining the river closer to Willow Grove.
The scent of new grass told him spring was truly here.

He was reminded of his daughter’s love of the upper reaches of the ranch.
Chrissie had called last week to tell him she was pregnant. He’d neglected to ask her if she planned to share that news with her mother, a mother who had deserted her children when Neil had barely started school.

Unlike her children, Chelsea had disliked the sol
itary ranch and the people she
had
scornfully called “the local
yokel
s
.” Jonathan
had suggested she take charge of the small cabin
nestled a decent distance from the main house and rent
it to vacationers lo
oking for a rural setting. “You’d
own
a small business, Chelsea,” he’
d said
.
He told all who asked that he couldn’t have raised
the kids
without Nate, the ranch manager,
and his wife, Mary. Sweet Mary,
dead more than
ten
years now
. Neil and Christine
had helped Nate through that bad time
, as only young children could have
.
In spite of their mother’s desertion, the kids
had turned out ok
ay. Now he was going to be a grandfather. Funny, he didn’t feel old enough for that.

Jonathan
pulled his horse to a stop,
stood up in the stirrups and looked out over the valley. Two eagles were riding the airstream high above him, their dark wings highlighted against the bright afternoon sky. He
pulled
his binoculars
out of the saddlebag
to take a closer look,
thinking they were
likely mates. His eyes scanned the tree-covered ridge beyond. A patch of white appeared briefly among the trees near the summit.

“What have we here?” He watched as it appeared again between green branches. “An albino wolf?” The horse flicked his ears back to catch Jonathan’s voice.
“Or a coyote?” When he looked again, nothing disturbed the color of the trees on the far ridge. He absent-mindedly patted the rifle
saddle
scabbard
and
leaned forward slightly
. The
horse began picking his way along the trail, hemmed in on either side by lodge
pole pine
s
.

Ten minutes later,
horse and rider
topped the ridge and a
nother
flash of white caught
Jonathan’s
eye. “That white wolf again?” he mumbled to himself, reaching for the rifle. “No. A dog.” He watched as the white dog preceded a hiker.
The last white dog he had seen was in Minneapolis, trotting next to the recently-widowed Mrs. Wallace. Suzanna with the emerald eyes. That couldn’t be her, could it? He doubted it.

The figure turned into the trees, preventing him from seeing a face or discerning anything more than that the person wore dark clothing. H
e pulled
a
small digital camera out
of
his chest pocket, quickly shot a picture, and signaled the horse. When next he looked toward the ridge, the dog and its master had disappeared.

Let’s find out who
he is and
what
he’s doing
here.
The horse moved down the trail toward the other ridge.

After two hours of steady climbing, Suzanna sat on a log
,
pulled out her water bottle and checked the brochure that described the trail. Sam lay near her, panting.
“If you
didn’t run
so far ahead and have to dou
ble
back, you wouldn’t be so tired, dog. I’ll bet you’ve walked twice as far as
me
. It must be the altitude—or
maybe
I’m more out of shape than I thought.”
But i
t felt good to smell the pines, to experience something different from big-city life
, even if it was cooler than she’d expected. She zipped up her fur-lined jacket, glad she had decided to take it with her, regretting that she’d opted to wear her leather moccasins
.

Sam sat up to scratch then whined.
“
Okay
. Let’s go. I see a break in t
he trees.” She stood, stretched
and headed in that direction. Sam followed her then
rac
ed ahead, eager to lead the way, his tail a
feathery
banner carried high over his back.

From the
top of the ridge, they enjoyed the
view of a deep valley between
her
trail and an upwelling of hills to the south. In the distance, a lake shimmered in the sun. A silver ribbon ran from one end of the lake toward the valley floor. “That must be the
ben
ch lake mentioned in the brochure.” She made a mental note to try the other trail to get to the lake.
“I’ll bet it’s too cold
for swimming
, but it sure is pretty up here.
Come on. Let’s go back to town. I’m getting hungry.
” She headed back the way they had come, eager to
reach
the
Jeep
before dark
ness fell
.