by Jaclyn Hardy
“Oh, sorry. I didn’t see you there.” He pulled another weed and threw it behind him onto the pile.
“Do all city folk have such a bad sense of direction?” She raised an eyebrow as she pulled the weed off and set it to the side.
“It’s called GPS. Besides, we have the ocean to the west of us. Easy to know where we’re going. Here, there’s nothing to use as a landmark. Oh, look—there’s a rock. And a bush. Oh, and there’s another one that looks just like it.”
Rachel put her hands on her hips and glared, but Patrick caught the sparkle in her eye. “Funny boy. I can do that too. Oh, look—there’s a building. And another one. They all look the same, and block what really matters.”
Patrick laughed. “Obviously, you’ve never been to the city. Every building is a little different.”
“Look at the mountains. They’re totally different. You just have to learn the landmarks to find your way. Same as finding the right city blocks, but with a lot more freedom.” She stood and collected the weeds. “Come on. This one’s done, but we have another two flower beds to work on.”
Patrick stood and stretched his back. His hands were sore from all the pulling, and he wasn’t sure the green and black stains from the dirt and weeds would ever come out, but the sound of her laughter kept him going.
The truck’s cab was stifling, but Patrick was thankful he could finally sit down and rest. His back was killing him, and he looked like he hadn’t bathed in weeks, but the flowerbeds looked perfect, and Rachel was smiling as they pulled away from the house.
“So, I noticed how decked out the town was. Do you guys do a huge celebration for the Fourth?” He leaned his head back against the seat and tried not to move so the heat was more bearable.
“Yeah, we have a market and a huge meal during the day, and then a concert and fireworks at night. It’s gone on for as long as I can remember.” Rachel turned down the dirt road to the mansion and tried the air conditioner again. “Sorry it’s so hot. This will turn on soon, I hope.”
Patrick rolled down his window and sighed at the breeze. “It’s fine. We’ll just go with this for now.”
“That’s usually what I do. I just didn’t want it to get too dusty in here. The wind is starting to pick up.”
“It feels great.” He took a drink from the bottled water Rachel’s mom had given him. “Have to admit, I miss the ocean breeze.”
Rachel smiled. “I’m sure it’s wonderful. Like the cool night air.”
“Considering I’ve only been here at night in the middle of a storm, I’ll have to take your word for it.” Patrick stared at the dark clouds rolling in from the south. “So, can you tell me anything about the house? I only have what I learned on the internet, and that’s not much.”
Rachel was silent for a moment. “It used to belong to some rich family—your family, I guess—who decided they wanted a simpler life. They’d host balls and stuff, but it never really caught on. They moved away, and it just kinda fell into disrepair.”
Patrick frowned. “They hosted balls? Why would they do something like that?”
“I don’t know, but this was the late 1800s, early 1900s. They did things like that back then. The ballroom is absolutely breathtaking, or would be if it was fixed up.” Rachel turned down another road.
“Does anyone else visit it? I mean, besides you?”
“Nope. We’re the closest ranch for miles, and there are enough ghost stories about it that others stay away.” Rachel pulled up behind Patrick’s rental. “Well, it looks like your car survived the storm.”
“Looks like it.” Patrick reached for the handle. “Hey, can you come in with me for a minute? I have a few things I want to pass by someone.”
Rachel turned off the truck. “Sure. I need to get the rest of my books anyway.”
Patrick threw his bag into his car and followed Rachel up the path to the house. She let them both in and shut the door, “How’d you know where to find the key?”
“I come here every few days. Pretty sure I’m the only one who knows where it is.” Rachel pulled out her phone and used its flashlight to find her way through the rooms to open curtains. When light flooded into the rooms downstairs, she wiped her hands on her jeans and turned off the flashlight. “Okay, what did you want to ask me about?”
He took a piece of paper out of his back pocket. “Well, I had some ideas about what I could do with a few of these rooms, and I figured you might be able to help me.”
Rachel stiffened. “I won’t help you change anything in this house. I told you that already.”
“I get that. I meant working around what’s already here. You’re okay with that, right?” Patrick straightened the creases on the paper as he waited for her answer.
Rachel sighed. “What were your plans?”
Patrick set the paper on an old table in the hallway. He’d drawn out a rough floor plan with sketches of furniture throughout. “Down here could be conference rooms. Here’s where we could have a staff room. It’s smaller, so we can’t use it for a meeting room, but there could be couches and stuff. Here’s where my office could be, up front, so when clients come I’m easy to find. Then upstairs could be the living quarters. That way, I wouldn’t have to change anything.”
Rachel took the paper from Patrick. “Only problem is that the lighting on this side of the house would be a pain during the summer months. You’d have to get blinds to keep the heat out. The kitchen takes out a big chunk of the back, and it’s made for a large group. I’d keep it there. Besides, moving it upstairs doesn’t sound like a great idea. There’s a reason they’re on the main floor.” She glanced up at him. “And clients? You’re in the middle of nowhere. Perfect for ranching and to get away from it all, but to visit a business? I’m not sure you’ll get many people here.”
“You have a point, but this way I wouldn’t have to pay for building space, and the taxes are way cheaper than where we are right now.”
“Cheaper doesn’t mean it’s a good idea.” Rachel handed him back the paper and left him standing in the hallway as she took the steps two at a time.
Patrick glanced at the paper, then up the stairs. Something didn’t seem right here. Why did Rachel care so much about what he did? He climbed the stairs and went into the room where he’d first seen her. She stood next to the bookshelf, piling all the books in her arms.
“I’m going to head home now. If you follow this road back north about an hour, you’ll find a few hotels there. I recommend a bed and breakfast so you don’t have to worry about finding something to eat in the morning.” Rachel rushed past him, and Patrick only caught a glimpse of her face. Her eyes were red. Maybe it was the dust, but he was pretty sure he’d seen tears on her cheeks.
He turned and ran to catch up to her. Rachel struggled with trying to open the door while holding her books, so he took some from her. They walked out to her truck and set them on the seat.
“Thank you. I didn’t realize I had so many up there.” Rachel wiped her eyes and pulled her keys out of her pocket.
“Hey, what’s going on? Are you okay?”
Rachel nodded and gave a short laugh. “Yes. Sorry. This was my escape for years. It’s hard to let it go.”
“You can help me clean it out if you’d like. That way, you can still come every day.”
“I’ll think about it.” She took a breath and finally met his eyes. “I just hate seeing it being changed into something else, you know?”
“Well . . . what would you do with it?” Patrick brushed a strand of hair away from her face and pulled back when he realized what he was doing. He took a step away from her. “Sorry.”
Rachel bit her lip. “You’d laugh if I told you.”
“Try me.”
“No.” Rachel turned away.
Her tone made Patrick take another step back. He’d obviously hit a nerve. “Okay, well, here’s my number if you decide you want to help. Or you can just head out here. I’ll be working for another few days before I head home.”
Patrick climbed into his own car and typed in the address to a hotel he’d found on his phone. Once it was set, he pulled out of the driveway and headed toward town. Plans for the house continued to run through his mind as he traveled. The thought of selling the mansion to use the money for a new place in California was tempting, but it didn’t seem right. This place had something that pulled him in, and he couldn’t wait to find out what it was.
Rachel tightened the saddle and patted her horse, Old Blue, before climbing up onto his back. The storm was building, but it would be another hour or so before it hit. That was just enough time to get a good ride in.
She urged him into a walk until she got past her property and then Old Blue broke into a gallop: fast, hard, and straight down the trail he knew all too well. They rode up into the hills above her ranch, where she could see the whole valley. The mansion stood below her in the middle of overgrown cottonwood trees. On the other side of the trees was an old garden, long past its prime. From here, she could imagine the parties that had been held in the mansion, the men and women who would escape the house and find some quiet in the maze of neatly trimmed hedges.
Rachel reigned the horse in and climbed down, rubbing Old Blue’s neck. “Rest for a bit, buddy. We’ll head back to the corral soon.”
The horse whinnied and walked over to a patch of grass for a snack. Rachel sat on the branch of an old tree and closed her eyes, enjoying the wind as it blew the hair out of her face and brought the smell of rain and sagebrush. She opened her eyes and searched for the rainbow she knew had to be visible. There. It brought a smile to her lips. Her aunt had been the one to show her this place forever ago as they’d searched for rabbits to take home as pets. If only she really could find the end of a rainbow to catch a leprechaun and make three wishes.
Her first wish would be that Patrick had never found that deed. Another would be for the house to be her own. The last wish . . . Rachel stood and sighed. If wishes were fishes . . . . Old Blue whinnied again as thunder rumbled in the distance, pulling Rachel from her thoughts. She climbed up just as the first raindrops hit the ground.
“Go, boy.” She’d stayed too long. She kept her head low and sped down the trail. Rain and blowing leaves pelted them as they galloped past. Parts of the trail were slippery from the mud, and Old Blue had to slow to a walk. By the time they got back to the ranch, Rachel was soaked to the skin. She climbed off and brushed Old Blue down before running to the house.
Instead of going through the main entrance, Rachel went around the back so she could sneak up to her room. Voices came from the living room, and she relaxed. Mama would be too busy with her visitors to catch her.
“Rachel Ann Poulton, where have you been?” Mama’s voice carried through the dining room.
Rachel cringed and turned. “Hey, Mama. That’s one nasty storm out there. I was making sure everything was locked up for the night.”
Mama folded her arms and raised an eyebrow. “Try again.”
“I was just out on Old Blue and lost track of time. I’ll be down in a bit.” Rachel shivered.
“Yes, you will. Dinner’s almost done. It’s just the family tonight. Your dad ordered pizza and had it delivered to the bunkhouse for the ranch hands so we could have dinner with your Uncle John.” Mama frowned. She took it as a personal insult whenever other food was brought onto the property.
Rachel ran upstairs, changed into a warm pair of sweats, and pulled her hair back into a ponytail. It would take a while to warm up after the cold rain, but the ride had been just what she needed. Not that she had any clue how to get Patrick to let her have the house, but at least she’d been able to calm down.
Mama pointed at the cupboard as soon as Rachel walked into the kitchen. “We’ll use the good dishes tonight.”
“Okay.” Rachel took out the glasses and carefully carried them into the smaller dining room they only used for family. Laughter erupted from the other room. Uncle John must be telling his jokes again.
Mama walked into the dining room holding a large pot of spaghetti. “The garlic bread is in the oven. Grab it, and I’ll call everyone in for dinner.”
Rachel set down the last glass and pulled the bread out of the oven. Rain hit against the window pane, and she couldn’t help wondering if Patrick made it to a hotel. He should have had plenty of time, but the storm hit faster than she’d expected.
“Hey, Rachel. I didn’t know you were around.” Uncle John’s voice came from behind, making Rachel jump.
She turned and smiled, setting the pan on the counter. “I was just out riding my horse. How was the trip?”
“Good. Love the valley this time of year.” He wrapped her in a hug. “Your cousins have been dying to see you.”
Thundering footsteps came toward the dining room, and three kids nearly knocked Rachel over.
“Hey, guys. It’s good to see you.” Rachel was the oldest cousin by several years, but she never tired of hanging out with them.
“Do we get to ride horses tomorrow?” Dallin asked. He was ten and loved everything about the ranch.
“Of course. I’ll take you out myself.” Rachel sliced the bread and set it in a basket to take into the dining room. Uncle John and Aunt Kristi sat at one end of the table while her cousins took up the middle, and Rachel’s parents were on the other end.
Rachel took her place at the table, then helped dish the food before they said grace and began eating.
Aunt Kristi leaned forward. “I want to know if you were able to get that mansion you’ve been dreaming about all these years.”
Rachel opened her mouth to answer, but didn’t know what to say. She glanced over at her parents before clearing her throat. They weren’t exactly thrilled with the idea of her renovating the old place, another reason she kept the money hidden there. If they knew she still planned to buy it, she’d never live it down.
“Turns out, that’s not going to happen. The great-grandson of the last owner showed up yesterday to claim it.” After admitting it out loud, Rachel couldn’t meet anyone’s eyes, or she would fall apart. Kristi was the only one who knew how much Rachel wanted that mansion.
“Oh, sweetie, I’m so sorry. Did he mention what he wants to do with it?” Kristi place her hand on Rachel’s.
“You didn’t tell me that.” Mama frowned. “Is it that Patrick fellow you brought by yesterday?”
Rachel nodded, pushing the food around her plate. She wasn’t hungry, but it was too early to ask to be excused.
“That’s too bad. I liked him. Something else will come along.” Mama smiled and patted Rachel’s hand.
Rachel bit back the tears that threatened to spill over, and forced a smile. “I know, Mama.”
Mama looked over at Rachel’s cousins. “Now, what are our plans for tomorrow?”
While the rest of the family decided what they wanted to do, Rachel waited for the perfect time to be excused.
Rachel washed her hands and took the bucket of eggs into the house. The only thing she could hear was the humming of the sewing machine. She grabbed her keys and ran out to the truck before anyone could give her another chore to do. She wanted to run to town for the rest of the ingredients for the pies.
If she got done in time, she could run by the house and see if Patrick was still there. She’d stayed awake all night and finally decided to see what he had planned for the mansion and possibly give some suggestions to restore it how it should be. She wanted it to be perfect, even if the house wasn’t hers. Besides, she needed to get her money before anyone started working on the remodel.
The weather was cooler than it had been over the last couple of days, but Rachel still kept the windows rolled down. The smells from the farmland were intoxicating—dirt, wheat, sagebrush.
It w
as still fairly early in the morning, so many of the shops were still closed. Rachel pulled into the small grocery store parking lot and went inside. She walked quickly down the aisles, grabbing flour, sugar, and other staples to make the dough, then she picked out blackberries and blueberries for the filling.
Once she had everything she needed, Rachel went to the checkout line and pulled out her phone to make sure Mama hadn’t texted her about any other errands. She perked up suddenly when she heard the mansion mentioned by the ladies in front of her.
“What did you just say?” Rachel asked and then cringed. She didn’t usually interrupt other people’s conversations.
An older woman Rachel vaguely recognized turned to look at her. “There was an arrest last night. Someone broke into the old mansion. Probably some troublemakers trying to vandalize the place.”
Rachel’s mouth went dry. “Did they catch them?”
“Sheriff Nelson has them booked into the jail. Wouldn’t let me see them, though.” The woman frowned.
Right. This had to be Anita Smith. She’d moved in awhile back and couldn’t keep her nose out of anything.
Rachel let them get back to their conversation, mentally begging them to go faster. She needed to do some digging to find out who had broken in. No one had tried for years, and if they’d found her money . . . . She shuddered. The cashier seemed to take forever scanning all of the groceries, and Rachel practically threw the cash at him before running out of the store.
The sheriff’s office was just a few doors down. Anita might not be able to find out who was in the prison, but Sheriff Nelson had a crush on Rachel. He asked her out every time they ran into each other, so she might be able to get information from him.
The sheriff was sitting at his desk when Rachel walked in. He looked up, smiled, and tipped his hat. “Hey there, Rachel. You’re looking beautiful today.”
“Thanks, sheriff. How’s it going?” Rachel glanced to the back of the building where the cells were located. Her stomach dropped when she saw Patrick in a cell, leaning up against the wall, reading the paper. She was torn between being happy that it meant her money was still safe, but what was Patrick doing there? He was supposed to be at the hotel.