Chapter 49

For once, Dawson Ridges was as quiet as Hades.

Molly Dawson stood alone at her kitchen window and took in the sight of the dusk moving over their land. It was the last day of the Foundation build, and Cole had texted her things were on track to be finished that night. The inspector had approved all the major structural fixes, now there was some cosmetic stuff to be finished and the grounds to be tidied up. They’d planted a ring of trees around the home too, right at the outset, to protect it in the winter from the harsh winds that tore down from the Arctic, and to give it shade and a welcoming breeze in the summer.

The trees had come from Quinn’s ranch, a bevy of massive Garry Oaks. One smaller sapling was from a few years back and had originally been planted when Christopher was born. It hadn’t done well at Black Oaks, but there the tree—right outside the boy’s window—had taken amazingly well. A few had commented that it looked like it had always been there, and was outdoing the larger, more mature trees they’d planted beside it.

Cole had let her know they might be late. There was also a chance they’d get to stay to celebrate, if the administrators allowed it. He’d offered to send Spence to get her.

She could see it in her mind’s eye. Bonfires, cold ones cracked out. The kids, wide-eyed, watching from their windows, or perhaps being allowed out into the warm summer evening in their pjs, traipsing across the grass, their nurses bending to them, keeping them safe at their sides.

A community celebration.

Burgers, hotdogs, chips, and cheesies. Potato salad. Dax attempting to supervise the home’s cooking staff. She grinned. How would that go down? Not well, she chuckled.

Then someone, likely Ranger, would pull out a guitar, start strumming, and singing softly. The others would pitch in, as the stars came out. The administrators would mumble that the kids needed to be in bed, then scan the tiny bodies all caught up in the moment, and the bedtime curfew would be forgotten.

It was such a lovely picture, and it filled her heart.

When things were normal in their tidy little community of Dawson Ridges, that was exactly how things went. They worked together, hauled together when times were tough. Then played and celebrated together, oldsters to little ones, alike.

It was a good life.

One that soon, within days, would be over.

She’d opted to stay at home, in the unusual quiet, to have her last moments of communion with her home. Alone, as when she’d first arrived.

Be strong, Molly girl. Look out on what you have. Damn it! It’s still all yours, this very minute.

She listened to those quiet words that canted up from the depths of her being, heeded them. Let her gaze roam over what was in front of her, right now.

The green fields that stretched into the distance, the patchy dirt driveway, full of gravel and tire tread marks. Further afield, the forests of evergreens that scented their mornings and evenings. Cradling the trees, the mountains. Those glorious Rockies.

She didn’t know how she was going to handle leaving the spread they’d lived on, that they’d built with their own two hands and an armload of dreams, and loved to life. But it was a done deal, so she stared at that picture. Knew she’d never forget it.

“All I have to do is close my eyes, and it’ll always be there. Giving me strength. My home.”

It was odd, for once, that everyone was off the property. Not one hand remained, as they’d all been called to the build. Cole wanted it done right. Even her beloved, mouthy Jack, had gone to work. He’d finally come home from Toronto, declared he was better than ever, then showed her, very personally, exactly how much better he was. Her face reddened with the memory.

Who said there could only be one honeymoon in a marriage?

Now, everyone was gone to rebuild the Foundation for the kids, and would soon be back. After the celebration she was sure would happen.

Her gaze continued to scan the buildings. The posts they’d put in, the foundations they’d built and leveled. The odd, mismatched boards that patched holes in the barn.

One was a spot where Krys, at twelve, had driven the tractor almost right through the building. Another spot where the kids had worked to surprise her after she’d had a minor operation, and they’d wanted to cheer her up. They’d painted a chunk of the side pink.

Yeah, pink, she thought, chuckling, replaying the memory. The boards were weathered, but still there. Such sweetness.

Then she thought of the animals that had come, and stayed, and become part of the family. The ones that served the family directly—Tawny, Storm, Buttercup. The crazy goats, the yammering chickens.

Even the animals they’d acquired for breeding. A few were incredibly expensive, right now, in that Stable. The work of their hands, collectively, had come to such fruit.

They’d almost pulled it out of the fire. Almost.

Then all that stuff from the past had unearthed itself. Thanks, Son, for that genealogy bit you just had to exhume.

But she smiled. Grim, but accepting, knowing it was right. Once that had happened, everything had changed.

Soon, their beloved Dawson Ridges would be bustling with Quinn Raary’s men. A Black Oaks Subsidiary. She winced, the thought painful, but then got tough with herself.

“If that’s what Jack’s Great Grampa wanted…I’ll deal. We’ll deal. And we’ll damn well do it with style.”

Suddenly, she glanced at her watch. “Good grief, Molly Dawson. There’s food to prepare, packing to do. Stop staring and get working.”

She almost started at the ranch where absolutely no one was home. She could get a lot done, and determined she would.

Until she saw a figure skulking around the side of Stable One.

An untoward chill swept through her body. There was no truck parked outside, no one had just come home. No hands were present. And more?

No one ever skulked here, no hand either. They walked like free men and women, like ones who belonged, because…they did.

Molly Dawson grabbed a sweater from the hook beside the door, from under the mass of her kid’s coats, and threw it on over her shoulders. She ordered the dogs to lay down and stay, then went, as unnoticed as she could, to what was still her damn stable.