the circus to buy him an expensive outfit to impress the audience. Do you think that’s the same thing?”
Silence reigned. Finally Allie said, “I don’t get it.”
“Neither do I. Did you, Dad?”
“Well, let’s think about it. The guy in the cold climate needed some kind of a coat, warm or not. The acrobat didn’t need an expensive outfit. Any kind of outfit would have worked.”
“I still don’t get it.”
“Neither do I,” Katy assured him. “My brain doesn’t work like your father’s or Steve’s. As I said earlier, trying to do his homework was worse than figuring out a Chinese puzzle.”
Both his children laughed and kept on chatting with her.
Steve. Her latest boyfriend out of how many? What was she? Mid-twenties? Her age was hard to tell.
She was a catalyst, stirring up conversations they’d never had, prompting them to ask questions they wouldn’t have thought of. Disturbing the peace and tranquility of his well-ordered life.
KATHRYN NOTICED her host let his children carry the conversation the rest of the way to the ranch. They traveled under a low ceiling of clouds. She was glad they’d beaten the latest storm front.
At the entrance to the Circle B, he turned off the main road and they began the climb through a mountain fairyland flocked with snow. It spoke to her heart of hearts.
She felt it happening again. That spurt of adrenaline racing through her body.
The first time she’d experienced it was at the plane when she’d seen the tall rancher striding toward her wearing well-worn cowboy boots and a black Stetson. Rugged, powerful. She’d immediately thought, here was a man to match his mountains.
Over the years at Skwars Farm, she’d roomed with many families in a rotation. The last family she’d been with had a daughter, Nelly, close to Kathryn’s age. Nelly had a driver’s license and could take the family car into town. She always stopped at the library to bring back more Louis L’Amour books for Kathryn, who’d gotten hooked on High Lonesome years earlier.
Ever since Kathryn had been old enough to fantasize, she’d pretended to be Considine’s woman. Considine was the hard-hitting outlaw whose code of honor in the face of all odds helped him survive on the American frontier.
Talk about an out-of-body experience—just a little while ago he’d come to life in the form of Colton Brenner.
Fantasizing was a tool Kathryn had used to survive during her twenty-six years in captivity. Her psychiatrist couldn’t emphasize often enough that it played the key role in helping her cope during the years she was floundering.
But it had been four years since her family had found her and she still couldn’t shut off the mechanism that caused her to dream beyond the boundaries of reality. Staring at Colton Brenner, imagining he was the hero of her young girl’s dreams, wasn’t healthy.
Already she sensed this twenty-first-century family man had staked out his own territory a long time ago. Only a special few had entrée into his inner circle. Kathryn got the distinct impression she was an unwanted guest here, existing on borrowed time because of an unexpected turn of events involving Allie. If nothing else, his set boundaries guaranteed an end to her flights of fantasy, breaking the dangerous quarter-of-a-century cycle.
The car wound around one more curve in the road lined with walls of dense evergreens covered in snow. Suddenly they came upon a vale nestled between the mountains containing a fabulous western-style ranch house. Smoke curled from the chimney.
She picked out the barn, the bunkhouses and bungalows, another house, outbuildings, pens and corrals. In the far distance, she saw the stream that crossed the property and beyond it a herd of cattle.
“We’re home, Katy.”
“I can see that.” She squeezed the teen’s arm. “I’ve decided the name Circle B doesn’t do this place justice. It should be called something evocative like Cloud Bottom Ranch.”
Everyone in the car laughed, even the children’s father. He said, “Our ancestors started what was then called the Ayrshire Ranch on just six hundred acres and a little bungalow. They hoped to raise Ayrshire dairy cows, but the experiment didn’t last long.
“Each generation of Brenners that followed bought other small parcels of land and grew crops. It got renamed the Circle B after my great-grandfather brought in Angus cattle. No one could pronounce Ayrshire properly anyway. He wanted something simple and straightforward.”
She smiled, remembering the problems people had with names like her kidnapper Antonin Buric and the Skwars families. “Americans do have a way of slaughtering most languages.” Once again, the twins roared with laughter.
Through the rearview mirror, she felt their father’s gaze. “As the ranch began to prosper, the Circle B stuck, but I must admit your fanciful version captures its true essence. Interestingly enough, the Sioux and Shoshone had two names for this area depending on the season. In winter they called it ‘Walkway to the Clouds.’”
Kathryn felt a little shiver race across her skin. “How beautiful.” He nodded. “And summer?”
“Valley of the Flowers.”
Another Albion Basin. Just like home.
More stuff fantasies were made of, but she was through with those. Realizing the car had stopped, she undid her seat belt and leaned across to help Allie. “I bet bed sounds good about now.”
“It does.”
“I thought so.”
Matt opened the door for Kathryn while their father picked up his daughter and carried her around the end of the house. Kathryn alighted from the car with her purse. “Thanks, Matt.”
“Sure.” He opened the trunk to get her parka and suitcase. “Follow me.”
The two-story ranch house had been constructed of dark wood and local stone. At the back, there was a large covered veranda with picture windows facing an eastern exposure.
Matt showed her through the door into a room to wash hands and stow boots and parkas. He hung hers on a peg, then walked her down a hall that opened into a vaulted great room dominated by the rock fireplace. On either side were huge, tall picture windows looking out on the mountains. This had to be the heart of their home.
“I’ll take your suitcase upstairs and be right back, Katy.”
“Thanks, Matt.”
The comfortable brown leather couches and chairs with colorful woven throws invited her to curl up. Framed family pictures covered one wall. Her eyes wandered over the floor-to-ceiling bookcase filled with books, games and an entertainment center. Dark honey-colored hardwood floors not covered by oriental rugs gleamed in the firelight.
She gravitated to the fire’s warmth, eager to look at every photo and examine the titles.
“Welcome to the Circle B, Ms. McFarland. I’m Noreen Walters.”
Kathryn
