CHAPTER 14
POLLY had obviously been watching for us, because when we were halfway to the front door of Gold Rush Realty she came out and waved. The lights inside were already off. She quickly turned and locked the door behind her before joining us.
I greeted her and introduced Larken. “You two haven’t met, have you?”
The real estate agent shook her head and flashed her big white teeth. “No, we haven’t. It’s nice that you came along to give Ellie advice,” Polly said to Larken. Then slyly, “Or are you actually the interested party?”
I wondered how many times a day Polly used the phrase “interested party.”
Larken mumbled something incoherent.
“Sorry to make you work so late,” I said.
The woman waved it away. “Honey, I work any and all hours. Occupational hazard. Don’t you worry.” She pointed to a red Miata that was parked two spots down from my Jeep. “Since you already know where we’re going, I’ll follow you out there. Okay?”
I nodded. “Sounds good.”
Larken and I returned to my vehicle and buckled up. A few blocks later, as we drove by the entrance to Raven Creek Park, I returned to our earlier discussion.
“How did you and my brother meet? Was it in Colorado?” I knew they’d met on a farm, but neither had filled me in on the details.
She leaned against the seat back and looked out at the passing landscape. “Do you believe in fate?”
“Um. I guess. Sometimes.”
“We met in New Mexico, actually. I was interning at a CSA farm—you know, community supported agriculture? Anyway, he was doing some construction work for the family who lived there, and they let him park the van there. We’d seen each other around, but really got to talking at one of the monthly farm-to-table dinners, and zing! That was that.”
I had to smile. The dreamy look she’d had on her face when she’d spoken of having her own plot of sustainable land had returned in full force as she remembered falling for my brother.
“How long ago was that?” I asked.
“Almost a year.”
I did a double take. “You two have been together that long?”
She shook her head. “I was looking for a place to settle, and he was always looking for the next place to be. So he’d stick around for three or four months and then move on.”
“Wait. That sounds like it happened more than once.” I guided the Jeep around a curve.
“It happened three different times,” she said, grinning over at me. “That first time in Taos, but then I left, and he moved on. I ended up with a job in Texas, and lo and behold, there he was. It was a surprise to both of us. Then when it happened again, in Crested Butte, I knew we were really supposed to be together. I packed what I could in the Westfalia and came with him this last time.”
Frowning, I said, “That’s a crazy story, but I believe it. Sometimes life does work like that. And honestly, it sounds like you’re about as itinerant as my brother.”
She shook her head vigorously. “No. I’m searching. When I find what I want, I’m done.”
“Hmm,” I mused. “I wonder if he’s searching, too.”
“Of course he is,” she said. I looked over at her, and she shrugged. “I just don’t know what he’s looking for in the end. Unfortunately, I don’t think he knows, either.”
We rode in silence for a couple of minutes.
Then I asked, “So you didn’t live in the van with him before this trip?”
She laughed. “God, no. That’s only been for a couple of weeks.”
We went past the trailhead for Kestrel Peak, and I slowed to dodge a pothole. When I glanced in the rearview mirror to make sure Polly was still with us, she was talking into her cell. Her head bobbed in enthusiastic agreement.
“How’s that working out?” I asked Larken. “The van thing, I mean. It’s not exactly like living in an RV.”
“You can say that again.” There was a slight bitterness to the words. Then she sighed. “Ellie, I don’t know what I’m going to do. I love that brother of yours more than I can say. And I’m pretty sure he feels the same way.”
“I think you’re right about that,” I agreed. “I’ve never seen him so head over heels.”
She looked pleased for a few seconds, then strain pinched the skin around her eyes. “I’m glad to hear that. I mean, I know how he feels, but coming from you . . . Still, I don’t know how it’s going to work out. He knows I’m looking for land.” She looked miserable again. “I bet that’s why he didn’t want to come out here with us.” A big sigh. “He’s always talking about freedom this and freedom that.”
My forehead squinched. “He is. But do you know exactly what he’s looking for freedom from?”
Larken shrugged. “From ‘the man,’ from a nine-to-five job, from too many bills, from working for someone else . . .” She trailed off.
“Yeah, that sounds about right,” I said slowly. “He’s not irresponsible, just doesn’t like to answer to anybody.”
“Right,” she agreed. “He’s an awfully hard worker.”
I felt a grin spread across my face.
“What?” Larken asked.
“Seems to me that having your own plot of land, paid for and everything, to support yourself on, is the ultimate in not having to answer to anyone else.”
Her eyes widened. “I never thought about it like that.”
“I wonder if Colby has,” I said.
A deep inhalation, as if she was preparing to reply, but what came out was, “Son of a biscuit! What the heck is that?”
I’d stopped the Wrangler in the pullout in front of the locked gate. She was staring at the acres of chain link surrounding the Sontag land.
“Did I mention the place is fenced off?” I asked.
We got out as Polly steered around a rut in the road and parked the low-slung Miata. Larken was still gaping.
“Okay, that sounds good, Mr. Newton. We’ll meet tomorrow morning,” Polly said into her phone. “Excellent! I’m sure we can work something out. Bye!” She tossed the device into the passenger seat and turned back to us with a set of keys dangling from her finger. They jingled when she held them up and shook them.
“Ready for a little hike?” she asked.
I bounced slightly on the toes of my trail runners and glanced down at Larken’s sturdy work boots. Then I saw Polly’s high-heeled suede pumps.
“We are, but what about you?” I asked.
The real estate agent waved vaguely. “Oh, I’m not tromping around in there.”
Was I mistaken, or was she suddenly less interested in selling me anything? Perhaps I hadn’t been an interested enough party?
“Polly?” I said.
She paused, eyebrows raised in question.
“Do you know why Joyous Sontag fenced this place off like this?” I gestured toward the gate. “I mean, razor wire? And that padlock and chain look serious.”
“Not my concern, I’m afraid.”
“No toxic waste in there, right?” I was teasing but she looked alarmed.
“Of course not!”
Shaking her head at our apparent paranoia, she strode over to the gate, inserted a key in the padlock, and gave a twist. With an efficient wrench of her wrist, she opened the lock and let the chain fall away. The gate slowly swung open as if pushed by an unseen hand.
“You go on in and explore, and I’ll wait here. Don’t be too long, though. It’ll be dark in half an hour, and I don’t want to have to send in the troops to get you.” She flashed a bright smile before turning back to her car. Within seconds she’d retrieved her smartphone. “Let me know if you have any questions,” she called absently, already tapping on the screen.
Larken and I exchanged a wry look and went through the gate.
And stopped cold.
&nbs
p; “Oh,” she whispered. “Oh, my.”
Oh, my, indeed.
A strange quiet had instantly descended, as if we’d walked through an air lock rather than a plain metal gate. But there wasn’t total silence, not at all. The liquid calls of meadowlarks echoed back from the shallow red cliff, and a pair of red-winged blackbirds trilled back and forth to each other from our right and left. A ruby-throated hummingbird buzzed by, followed by another. The first one veered back and hovered a foot in front of us for a few long seconds, as if inspecting our right to be there. Then it flitted away toward the remains of the log cabin, paused and looked back, then flew on.
Larken let out a shaky giggle. “It almost looks like he wants us to follow him.”
“Come on,” I said, and took a few steps.
Larken didn’t budge. I gently put my hand on her shoulder, and we began to walk.
A chorus of cricket song erupted around us, so loud the air throbbed with the hypnotic rhythm. I could feel more than hear Larken’s gasp of surprise and delight. Colors pulsed in my peripheral vision, the slightest bit brighter than usual. I quickly turned my head to try to catch the difference, but when I looked directly at a bright mariposa lily or golden aster, they appeared perfectly normal.
Still, there was an energy here, strange and unexpected.
And yet familiar.
With a start, I realized this place felt similar to the Enchanted Garden. It was as if the spirits of the flora and fauna were particularly alive and active.
Perhaps even aware.
I looked sideways at Larken. Her eyes traveled over the expanse of grassland and lingered on the old homestead, the cliff face, and a myriad of botanical offerings. There were woolly milkweed, paprika-colored yarrow, and orange pincushion flowers. Some of the wild onions were blooming purple, even this late in the summer. A swath of the white, oddly spiderlike blooms of soap lilies led like a path toward a stand of willows. The willows reached gentle, waving branches toward the remnants of the log home where past generations of Sontags had lived—and probably died.
Among it all, the stands of Atropa belladonna boasted purple-maroon flowers and berries ripe for the picking.
Larken’s gaze lit on the nearest deadly nightshade plant, and she pulled me toward it.
“See?” she said as we stopped beside it. “There’s no way someone would pick that by accident. Certainly no one who knows what they’re doing.”
“Maybe they didn’t know,” I said.
She shook her head vigorously. “That doesn’t make sense, either. Whoever it was made a tea. You don’t just throw things willy-nilly into a medicinal tea. You look for specific plants. And there’s really nothing else that looks like this.” She pointed to the nightshade.
“Maybe it wasn’t supposed to be medicinal. Just a plain old herbal tea.”
She gave me a look. “More devil’s advocate?”
I smiled and shrugged. I was certain the nightshade that had been used to kill Blake Sontag came from here.
“From what I understand, nightshade doesn’t exactly taste great. It’s said to be extremely bitter.” She looked speculative. “Though Euell Gibbons supposedly made a pie with the berries and lived to tell the tale.”
I shuddered. I’d heard of the naturalist and godfather of wild food foraging, and seemed to remember he touted some healthy cereal on television. “No doubt he’s an idol for a wildcrafter like you, but please promise me that you’d never try that.”
Her head tipped back as she laughed. “I wouldn’t dream of it!”
Then I saw the nightshade plant I’d spied through the fence before. It was still leaning to one side. I walked over to take a look. It looked like several stems had been roughly torn off, and it was obvious the area around the base had been dug up. A few roots still lay exposed against the dark soil.
“You’re right about it being intentional,” I said quietly, then turned. “Come on. Let’s check out the ruins.”
We continued on to what was left of the cabin. One wall was still mostly standing, though several logs had rolled off the very top and now lay haphazardly to one side. The mud chinking between the logs was stained dark, and much of it had cracked off.
“Careful,” I said. “This doesn’t look very stable.”
“Oh, Ellie. Look!” Larken called from the other side.
I peered around the corner to find her kneeling on a ring of stones set before a crumbling chimney. Grass had overtaken the rest of the interior, but the stone hearth still looked like it must have when Blake’s ancestors had kneeled on it to tend the fire.
“Look,” she said again, and pointed to the iron bar set into the interior of the fireplace. “They cooked here,” she breathed. Then she sat back on her heels. “Oh, golly. I love this place. It’s absolutely perfect.” She stood and ran back out.
I followed at a slower pace. Her need to put down roots was palpable, and from the look on her face, this soil would be a solid place for her to plant them.
“We could build a small house right over there, a little nearer to the cliff. It’s still close to the well, but would be shaded from the sun part of the day.”
My gaze followed hers to the old wellhead set into the ground. “Will you look at that. I wonder if that’s why Joyous fenced this place off. It would be awful if someone were to fall in there.”
Larken rolled her eyes. “Why wouldn’t she just fence off the area around it?”
“Good point,” I agreed.
She turned to face me, hands on her hips. “Ellie, I want to buy this land.”
My jaw slackened. “But . . . really?’
“Yes. I’ve looked for the right place for so long, and now I’ve found it.” She gave me a pleading look. “I don’t think I can live in that van for more than a month at a time. I thought I could, for a while at least. I thought I could do anything for Colby. But it’s hard.” Her eyes brightened with moisture. “Maybe I’m just weak.”
I ran my hand over the rough wood of the half wall. “Nah. I get it. I do. You’ve seen how small my place is, but it would be really hard to share it with someone full-time.”
Not that I need to worry about that happening . . .
Pushing the thought away, I stepped back and turned in a circle to survey the area. Now that we were inside the gate, I could see where the chain link ran along the perimeter in the distance. The parcel was slightly wider than long, maybe five acres by six. There was room for a barn, animals, and a large flat field that practically begged to be planted with crops. I could almost see chickens pecking in the grass nearby.
Suddenly, I turned and faced Larken again. “You said you want to buy it. Is that a real possibility, though? I mean, how would you pull it off?”
She grinned. “I have the money my grandpa left me. It’s not a ton, not like a big trust fund or anything, but I haven’t touched it. Not a cent, even for school. I’ve always known what I wanted to use it for.”
She ran over and gave me a big hug.
“Don’t count on that freedom argument working,” I warned. “My darling brother can be stubborn as all get-out.”
“Don’t I know it! Can’t hurt to try, though. Right?” Her smile was so contagious I couldn’t help but echo it.
Was I setting her up for disappointment? Still, a part of me was hoping against hope she’d be able to talk my brother into staying in Poppyville. The idea of this vibrant land being used as a small local farm rather than a big nasty housing development made me almost as giddy.
So maybe I was setting myself up for disappointment, too.
Know what? I didn’t care. It was worth a shot.
The sun was nearly set over the rolling hills west of Poppyville. A quick look over revealed Polly sitting on the hood of her car, her bent elbow indicating she was still on the phone. Or again.
“If you’re serious
, we should look around more,” I said.
Larken nodded, and we took off at a fast walk around the perimeter. The razor wire at the top of the fence lent a sour note to our progress, and we agreed that would be the first thing to come down.
Fingers of flamingo pink and raspberry were spreading across the sky. We turned and headed back toward the cabin.
Interested party, indeed.
At least we hadn’t been just wasting Polly’s time with this junket. I could barely keep the grin off my face even as we passed another stand of deadly nightshade.
It might be for warning, but today it seems like good luck.
“I’m going to check over there to see whether it would be a good place for a solar array,” Larken said when we reached the tumbled logs of the cabin.
“Don’t take too long. I’ll be over by the willows. They look so lush that there might be a small stream or maybe an artesian spring. That would make the well even sweeter.”
Her eyes lit up. “Oh, that would be awesome!”
She went right and I went left. I’d pushed into the circle of seven weeping willows on the other side of the cabin when the fog came.
CHAPTER 15
THE pliant boughs of the willows bent gracefully to the ground, their delicate green leaves looking like they’d been airbrushed on. The ring of trees formed a kind of arboreal room. It was cool inside, dappled with shadow but welcoming, and I wondered if they’d been planted like that intentionally. Since weeping willows weren’t native to California, I suspected some farseeing Sontag had planned this magical place.
The wellhead Larken had spied was between the willows and the cabin, so there was plenty of natural water nearby for them to drink. I breathed in the clean liquid scent of it. When I looked up, the sky appeared vibrantly rosy through the umbrellas of drooping branches.
Grinning to myself, I spread my arms wide and spun in place like a little girl.
But I wasn’t a little girl, and it didn’t take long to for me to get dizzy. I slowed, came to a rest, and plopped down on a tuft of low-growing grama grass.
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