Ellie turned off the engine and sat in the truck for a few moments, staring at the dark house. Life had dealt some hard blows over the years, but the last few years had been some of the worst of her life.

She and Dan had been married for five years and the passion had not only cooled but also become downright frigid. They had been trying to rekindle the fire and for their fifth anniversary, he reserved a room in a hotel near the fairgrounds where the state fair was taking place. She had always loved going to the fair and thought it sweet that he booked a place close to it.

Not only that but he paid for them to take a hot air balloon ride, something she had always wanted to do.

If someone had told her that the weekend would be such a disaster, she would have stayed home. The room had a leak right over the bed and the day of the balloon ride, she and Dan had a fight. A big enough fight that he left her behind and went on the ride alone.

Sadly, that morning, when he called her a fucking bitch and stomped out of the hotel room, was the last time she ever saw him. While on the balloon ride, one of the old prop engine warplanes that was flying above the fair pulling a banner hit the balloon. The pilot of the plane had a heart attack, the plane hit the balloon, and the balloon fell right on top of the tilt-a-whirl. Miraculously there was only one fatality: Dan.

Not exactly a great way to end a marriage or a life, but like Ellie’s grandma always said, you play the hand of cards you’re dealt.

Well, Ellie’s cards were real stinkers. Turns out Dan had remortgaged their home for more than it was worth and for more than she could pay each month. Not only that but he’d apparently gotten involved in some kind of online gambling and had run up a mountain of credit card debt.

She tried for two years, worked two jobs, and took on freelance jobs but in the end, she just could not keep up. So, she lost her home, sold everything she owned and moved into one of those pay-by-the-week hotel rooms where truckers and construction workers seemed to dominate the guest list. That was until her boss at her main job decided that since she was a widow, she was fair game and tried to pinch her breast. When she slugged him in the nose and broke it that was the end of her job.

With only enough money in her bank account to pay for two more weeks at the hotel, life was looking bleak. Then fate stepped in. Her father, who had left her when she was four, died and left her a ranch in Florida.

So here she was, getting her first look at her inheritance.

It was not pretty.

Not the house or the land, as far as she was concerned. The house was old. One of those flat-roofed affairs that looked low and squat, and in the moonlight, appeared to be the color of green chalk.

The yard was more sand than grass with big prickly bushes and squat, gnarled trees that were so heavy with moss they looked like some science fiction monster trap.

Ellie laid her forearms on the steering wheel, lowered her forehead to them, and closed her eyes. What the hell was she going to do? She felt like crying but knew that would solve nothing.

After a few minutes of self-pity, she straightened up and reached for her worn leather shoulder bag. Inside was an envelope she had not opened. She had received it in a packet of material from her father’s attorney.

Her name was scrawled across the front of it. Elana. Lord how she hated that name. How she hated the man who’d scribbled it on the outside of the envelope. No, the truth was, she wanted to hate him. She wanted to forget the smell of Camel cigarettes and beer on his breath and the sound of his voice, raspy and possessed with an accent completely unlike her own Southern brogue. She did not want to remember the safety she felt when he held her in his arms or lay beside her at night telling her stories before she fell asleep.

He left her and she wanted to continue to hate him for that because the pain of loving him was too great. He had not loved her enough to stay and she did not want to love him now to mourn his passing.

She blew out her breath, composed herself, and tore open the envelope. Inside was a sheet of paper that looked to have been torn out of the kind of notebook she used when she was a kid in school. The words on it were written in small, tight script. Too small to be read in the dark. She turned on the lights in the cab of the truck and started to read.

Elana, I don’t suppose you’re much interested in anything I have to say. I can’t say that I blame you. But if you’re reading this, then I’m dead and it’s time you heard a few things from me.

First, I’m sorry. I was wrong to walk out on you. When I lost your mom, well, I guess I lost the best part of myself. And I guess the person who was hurt the most was you. You didn’t have a daddy when you needed one. I know you had grannie and I know she loved you with all her heart.

But that doesn’t have anything to do with why you’re reading this letter. I bought this place in Florida and I know the land doesn’t look like much to people from other places, like the Carolinas with all those rolling hills and tall hardwoods, but it’s far more special that it looks. It’s one of a kind.

There is something special here, something important. I was the keeper and did all I could do to preserve what needed to be preserved and to protect what needed to be protected.

Now it belongs to you, and I hope it brings you peace and happiness. I’m sorry I was a lousy dad. I hope this helps make up for it.

Yours truly, Mike Whitehorse Ellie lowered the letter and turned off the light. One of a kind? That’s not how she’d put it. Ramshackle, rundown, depressing, or downright scary maybe, but special? If this place held anything special, you sure as heck couldn’t see it in the dark.

And she was not about to walk into that house until the sun was up. Just thinking about it gave her a case of the cold sweats. She did not have a lot to spare but she figured she could find a cheap hotel to stay in for the night. Tomorrow was soon enough to explore her new home and try to figure out what in the world this place possessed that would inspire her father to say it was special.

*****

“Well, Cam Marsh, as I live and breathe,” a shrill voice came from behind him.

Cam turned to find a stooped little white-haired woman standing behind him. “Well, hey there, Mrs. Myrtle. What in Sam Hill are you doing out this late? And in a drinking establishment? The ladies at the next church social are liable to skin you alive.”

Myrtle cackled a laugh, and her lined face lit up, making her seem younger than her years. “Honey, I got me a new fella. Old Byron Tate over there at the bar. You know his wife passed on last year. The old-timers got her.”

Cam smiled. “Yeah, I remember someone saying something about that. Shame. So, you’re stepping out with Mr. Tate, are you?”

“Yes, I am, honey. And having the time of my life. But don’t you go telling anyone you caught me in a bar. Those ladies in the canasta club wouldn’t ever let me hear the end of it.”

“Don’t worry, Mrs. Myrtle, your secret’s safe with me.”

“You trying to move in on my gal?” Another voice had Cam sidestepping to make way for a tall, thin elderly man in worn jeans and an even more worn Stetson.

“I was thinking about it, Mr. Tate, but seeing as how I’m pretty sure you’d kick my ass, I decided I better move on along.”

Byron Tate handed Myrtle a glass of something that looked like pink lemonade and clapped Cam on the shoulder. “How’s the cattle business, boy? Or wait, you’re sheriffing now, right?”

“Yes, sir. Not bad—on both counts.”

“I hear tell your brother finally got hitched. Some gal from up north?”

“The Carolinas.”

“She a ranch gal?”

“Yes, sir. She’s a damn fine horse trainer.”

“Well, good, good. Tell your brother I send my congratulations.”

“I will.”

“You get yourself a wife yet? Last I heard you was dating some gal clear up in Tallahassee. Some slick city gal.”

“That was a while back.” Cam did not even want to think about Camille Dresden. She was probably the worst mistake of his life. Beautiful and from a wealthy and politically influential family, she’d turned his head with her looks and then tried to turn him into something he was not. The breakup was ugly and had pretty much made him decide he wasn’t destined for hearth and home.

“Well, one day the right woman will come along, honey,” Myrtle said. “Love finds you when you least expect it.”

Cam couldn’t help but smile at the look that passed between Myrtle and Byron. They might be old, but like his dad once said, just because there’s snow on the roof doesn’t mean there’s no fire in the furnace.

“Well, you two behave,” he said. “I think it’s time for me to call it a night.”

Leaving them to their date, Cam made his way outside. As was typical for Florida this time of year, the air was heavy and moist. The humidity was still high enough to bring a sheen of sweat to the skin if you stayed out more than a few minutes.

He got in his truck and headed home. There wasn’t much of the county left that wasn’t developed. While tourism might fuel the state and there were more people moving in every day, development did not bode well for people like him and his brother, Clint. In the last few years, quite a few of the larger ranches had been sold off. Families who had been ranching or farming in the state for generations were selling out and heading for places like Texas and Montana.

But not Cam and his brother Clint. Before their father died, he helped them buy the ranch and they fully intended to hang onto it. After their dad passed, Carly had taken over running the ranch. Their mother had chosen to stay in Arizona but now spent her time in a condominium complex with her mother, Irene, playing cards and going shopping. That was fine. She was happy and Cam didn’t begrudge her enjoying life. Their oldest brother, Colton, had settled in the Carolinas after he left the military and had a nice breeding farm.

And Cam? Well, he was fine alone. Hell, it was time he was alone. He was almost thirty-five. Aside from the time he’d spent in college and the two years he had spent wandering the country, he had never lived alone, and even then, it wasn’t what you would call alone. His college years were crammed with friends and parties, and the glory of being the star quarterback, of having his choice of the prettiest girls, and becoming one of the hot new stars on the local rodeo circuit.

Truthfully, living in the apartment on the ranch they had created by adding another floor on top of the big garage was not exactly like being alone. Clint and Lily were just a short walk away in the main house, and he spent as much time there as he did the apartment.

As he passed the old Whitehorse ranch, he saw a truck pulling out from the narrow drive. That was odd. Old man Whitehorse had been dead almost six months and the place hadn’t gone up for sale. What was someone doing there?

Cam and his brother had been on little more than speaking terms with Mike Whitehorse, despite their properties adjoining. Whitehorse stayed to himself. And the man hadn’t run cattle in the last ten years. How he survived was a mystery.

But still it was odd to see that old truck pull out of the drive. Maybe he would take a ride back over in the morning and check the place out to make sure there wasn’t any vandalism or a clutch of homeless folks squatting in the house.

Right now, he was ready to shut down his brain and get some sleep.